#had to yell at her like 'PLEASE leave the yarn in the basket (you little fucker)

[sue-me-wright]

I simply do not understand why children will see a display and go "I think I need to make a mess of this and break things."

#volunteering to teach 3rd graders on a fieldtrip about fiber stuff #and like three minutes in with the first group #this little girl is like trying to disassemble a skein of yarn?? #and then she's just like 'you know what a good idea would be? #what if I took MORE yarn out of the basket.' #had to yell at her like 'PLEASE leave the yarn in the basket (you little fucker) #you can touch but don't pick anything up' #and fifteen minutes in the display fibers were all mixed up?? #why did they need to MOVE the fucking sheltie fur #and put the label on the rabbit skin #chaperones really need to just fucking yell at kids and tell them no #like my job is not to tell these kids not to be dumbasses #it's to sit there and crochet and correct all the parents going #'look she's knitting!' idiots. while you're busy misinforming one kid #the other is trying to spill dye on everything #and why the fuck to kids see a sign that says 'do not touch' and be like #'hahahahoohoo I'm gonna touch it. it's opposite day I'm gonna touch it' #swear this is gonna be the year a kid gets their finger torn up by a spinning wheel #teach your damn kids to read and follow signs goddamn #also if they wanted to know WHY they can't touch the spinning wheel #they could literally just ask instead of going 'I'm gonna touch it'

[chrwrites]

On Wednesdays We Wear Pink

This was written for the @lovebugs-and-snakecharmers 250 Follower Celebration, I picked prompt #25 from 50 Wordless ways to say "I love you": Wearing clothes in their favorite color.

warnings: Implied sexual content and fade to black

read on ao3

If there was something Luka Couffaine hated doing, that was doing the laundry.

Hanging the clothes out to dry wasn’t much of a problem, just like ironing or putting them away didn't bother him. But sorting through the clothes and separating them according to different fabrics and their colours? That was something he couldn’t do.

No matter how hard he tried, or how many times the amazing fashion designer he was dating showed him how to wash clothes the correct way and was patient enough to repeat herself countless times, Luka would always manage to mess something up.

Why couldn’t he just put all the clothes in the washing machine with some detergent and softener and just start it like he had always done before he started living with Marinette, anyway? The clothes came out fine.

Except, Marinette didn't think the same when he accidentally got her favorite sweater to shrink three sizes, and she officially discharged him from doing this annoying chore after she came home to find Luka struggling with yarn and knitting needles, trying to follow some online tutorial that would help him make her a new sweater to replace the one he damaged.

But now that Marinette would be away for a month, Luka didn't have the heart to let the clothes pile up and give her more work to do when she came back. He had to take care of it.

He sighed as he resentfully loaded the washing machine, only looking at his white clothes to make sure he didn't pick anything that would get them stained. He was almost finished when his hand landed on a small red garment that was definitely not his and distracted him from his task, the memories of the wonderful night spent after taking that small piece of clothing off his girlfriend flooding his mind.

God, he missed her.

His thoughts were interrupted by the phone ringing in the other room, and he scrambled to put the rest of the clothes inside the washing machine before he went to answer.

Marinette's cheerful voice greeted him, and Luka couldn't control the smile forming on his lips as soon as he heard her, “Hello, love. How's Milan treating you?”

He listened as she rambled about her day and told him about the challenges she had to face while working in another city, but the happiness and excitement in her voice made him smile along with her. He went back to the bathroom to set the washing machine in what he hoped was the right way, and started it.

“But enough talking about me,” Marinette said from the other side of the phone, ”I want to know what you've been up to.”

“Well,” Luka sighed, “Nothing much. Still working on the album. I've been trying to write, playing… Missing my muse...”

Marinette’s soft giggle rang in his ears, making his heart stutter the same way it did when they first met, “Aw, I miss you too,” she said, “I'll be back soon.”

“I know, it’s just not soon enough.”

“It’s only another week,” Marinette reminded, “then I’ll be back and I’ll be all yours.”

“I can’t wait.”

Smiling to himself, Luka set his phone down and grabbed his notebook and guitar. He settled on the couch and let the sudden rush of inspiration flow through his fingers to form a soft gentle melody that could do his love for Marinette justice.

He was so lost in the music that he forgot about the world around him, and when he heard a beep coming from the other room he jumped from the couch. He groaned when he realized that it was the washing machine signaling it was done, leaned his head to the back of the couch and closed his eyes to get his focus on the music back. The laundry could wait a little longer. But the beautiful rush of creativity that had previously caught him didn't seem to want to come back. Luka let out a helpless sigh and set his guitar aside, getting up to reach the source of the sound that disrupted his creative process.

Marinette had gotten so excited the first time she realized that their new washer also made sounds, and Luka still teased her for that sometimes. She would do a happy little dance whenever he heard the machine beeping, and as much as Luka loved to see her excited, he kinda hated that the stupid thing made sounds. What was the point of having a silent washing machine when it beeped when it was done?

So that you don't forget it, dummy.

The voice in his head sounded an awful lot like Marinette's, and it reminded him of his girlfriend getting up whenever that silly sound interrupted what they were doing. One moment, Marinette was resting her head on his shoulder, absently playing with Luka's hands as he hummed a soft melody in her ear; then, as soon as that damned washer beeped, she would abandon him.

“Can't it just wait?” he'd ask, and Marinette would laugh and tell him that they couldn't leave the clothes in the washing machine for long, “Otherwise they'll stink. I know, I know," he'd complain before lazily following her so that they could go back to what they were doing sooner.

“I swear, sometimes it looks like you love doing the laundry more than you love me.”

“You know that’s not true! I love doing you much more,” Marinette teased, making Luka struggle to keep his composure while he helped her hang the clothes, “You’ll be the death of me.”

Well, Marinette was going to kill him for real now.

Much to his horror, the first items he pulled out of the washing machine had turned a soft shade of pink.

“Shit,” Luka muttered under his breath. He pulled out more clothes, only to find that they all suffered from the same fate of the first ones. His t-shirts, his socks, his boxers were all pink.

How could that happen? He had paid attention this time, didn't he?

He sighed, tossing the now pink, old and ragged Jagged Stone t-shirt he didn't have the heart to throw away (much to Marinette’s annoyance) in the basket. At least he didn’t wash any of Marinette’s clothes, so he didn't have to worry about hearing her yell at him from another country for ruining her clothes as well. Maybe this time she would laugh when he’d tell her what happened to his clothes. Either way, there was nothing he could do about it now. 

He pulled out the last pieces from the washing machine, sighing when he found what caused his clothes to turn pink. Marinette’s polka dotted slips were of an apparently harmless bright red despite having tinted everything around them. At least it wasn’t totally his fault, he could blame it on his girlfriend’s underwear, couldn't he?

Marinette would have called him stupid and it would have ended there.

He let out a helpless sigh, opting not to try to find a solution for turning half of his wardrobe pink and hanging the clothes to dry instead.

What was some more pink in his life, anyway? His girlfriend was the epitome of pink and pretty, and he loved her for that. Even if he had to convince her not to buy all the pink home appliances she could find for their new apartment. She would complain, and he would kiss her adorable little pouts away before they went on looking for what they needed to make their new apartment feel like home. Two months living together and he still felt a little thrill of excitement whenever he was reminded that he was sharing the roof with the love of his life.

He couldn't really complain about some more pink in his life. He loved it.

Marinette greeted Luka with the warmest smile when she found him waiting for her at the airport. She ran into his arms, Luka’s chuckle ringing in her ear as he caught her and she wrapped her arms around his neck. They shared a long, sweet kiss.

He shivered when Marinette pulled away, his eyes still half lidded as he settled her down. Marinette traced slow patterns on his chest, biting down a teasing smile when she looked up at him, “Is this new? Pink really suits you,” she said, making Luka smile before he leaned for another kiss.

When they got home, his lips left hers only for the amount of time they needed to catch their breath. Luka ignored Marinette's gasp as he let her suitcase fall ungraciously on the floor and led her to the couch. She giggled when she fell on top of him and Luka’s arm wrapped around her.

“I missed you so much,” Marinette whispered, her bluebell eyes locking into his. His free hand reached to thumb her cheekbone, “Me too,” Luka said slowly.

Marinette snuggled close to his chest, her hand absently drawing patterns on his arm while Luka left soft kisses on her head from time to time, his hand brushing through her hair. They stood in comfortable silence, basking in each other's presence after so long of not being able to, sharing soft kisses and quiet laughs. 

Luka held her tighter, closing his eyes as he inhaled her sweet scent. Finally, their apartment felt like home again.

It was much later, when Marinette shifted and slipped away from his arms that Luka groaned, suddenly feeling cold. “Don’t go,” he whined, stretching his arms to grab her waist and pull her closer, “I didn't get enough of you.”

Marinette giggled, “When did you ever?” she asked rhetorically.

“Never?” Luka grinned proudly.

Marinette rolled her eyes, playfully slapping the hand resting on her hip. 

“I really have to unpack,” she said, struggling to be serious when she saw Luka’s pout, “Stay with me, please?” he asked.

Marinette managed to shim out of his hold and blew him a kiss before disappearing behind the door. Luka let out a lovesick sigh, getting up from the couch to follow her into their bedroom. 

“Thought you might need some help,” he said casually as Marinette opened her suitcase and took out her clothes.

“Just say you can’t stay away from me for one second,” Marinette teased. 

“Can you blame me?” Luka shrugged, “I have the most amazing girl by my side, and I want to–

Luka interrupted himself mid-sentence, noticing how Marinette's expression shifted into a frown when she opened the closet.

She put her clothes away, only to rummage a bit longer in the closet to pull out two pink t-shirts from Luka's side of the closet. 

She suppressed a giggle as she turned to look at his boyfriend, whose expression dropped.

“How come half of your closet has turned pink?” Marinette asked, letting the amused tone in her voice speak for her. 

“I…” Luka rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. Marinette raised an eyebrow as an invitation for him to confirm her suspicions, and Luka sighed in defeat.

“Fine, I messed up the laundry,” he could feel his cheeks grow warm at the confession, and he braced himself for any reaction from her.

“No way, I thought you got Rose so mad that she decided to colour all your clothes pink,” Marinette giggled, “Not that I'm complaining, you know how much I like pink, and it looks really good on you.”

“Oh really? You're not mad at me for messing up the laundry again?” he asked.

“It depends…” Marinette said, crossing her arms when she got up, “Tell me, Luka, did you ruin any of my clothes?”

Luka gulped, despite knowing he had nothing to worry about, Marinette looked quite menacing when things didn't go her way, “No.”

“Good,” Marinette smiled, satisfied with his answer, and closed the distance between them wrapping her arms around his neck, “I can fix these,” she said, eyeing at the clothes she dropped on the floor, but Luka shook his head.

“You don't have to.” 

“What?” Marinette asked, frowning in confusion.

“I wanted to take care of it so you didn’t have too much stuff to do when you came back. I don't want you to add more work to your list because of me,” Luka's thumb grazed her cheek gently. “Besides,” he added, his hands moving to her hips to pull her closer, “I like pink.”

Marinette smirked, “Don’t you think it will ruin your image, rockstar ?”

Luka shook his head, his smile brushing her lips, “Screw image, pink is very rock and roll.”

“That's why I like it so much,” Marinette's soft giggle died in her mouth when he kissed her, and she tilted her head to welcome him fully, allowing him to deepen the kiss.

Her hands made their way down his chest, pulling at the hem of his t-shirt, “As much as I like pink…” she purred, moving her lips to his ear and making Luka shiver, “I think you'd look better with this off...”

Luka didn't find Marinette sleeping in the bed next to him when he woke up. He yawned and stretched, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes before he got up and followed the unmistakable clattering of pans coming from the kitchen.

Marinette was standing near the stove, wearing nothing but the pink t-shirt he wore the previous night as she stirred something in a bowl.

He leaned against the door frame, not daring to disturb her and admiring her from his position instead. She was humming while she got the breakfast ready, a habit she picked from him, and Luka felt a familiar warmth spread in his chest. Sometimes he had to pinch himself to make sure he wasn't dreaming, that Marinette was really there by his side and loved him just as much as he loved her. Her sole presence lit up the darkest of corners, and Luka was lucky enough to be able to watch her shine without her light hurting his eyes. 

She squeaked when his hands squeezed her hips and he pulled her back against his chest, “Luka!” she scolded when he left a quick kiss on the exposed skin on her shoulder. He smiled and made her spin around so that she could face him, his ocean eyes bright with admiration. 

“You’re so beautiful,” Luka whispered, his voice still groggy from sleep.

Marinette let out a small laugh and put some distance between them to look up at him, “My hair is a mess, and I haven’t even had my coffee yet. You're only saying this because I'm wearing your clothes,” she countered playfully.

Luka chuckled and leaned in, “Not true, I'm saying this because I love you,” he whispered before pecking her lips, “And also because pink looks great on you.”

He kissed her again, deeper this time, making Marinette sigh on his lips before she reluctantly pulled away, “I love you too, but could we not have burned pancakes for breakfast?”

#lukanette #lbsc 250 followers celebration #Endgame Lukanette #luka couffaine #marinette dupain cheng

[wheredidhiseyebrowsgo]

How about some steter with some good old soft intimacy?

How about, yes.

(Annoyingly) Happy Valentine’s Day by Potrix

(1/1 I 1,797 I Teen)

“Welcome to the Beacon Blossom!” the saleswoman behind the counter chirps happily, and Peter watches, a little dazed, as the blinking plastic hearts attached to her headband bounce back and forth. “What can I do for you on this fine day?”

Peter deposits the bouquet of red roses on the counter, and nearly drops his wallet when the woman coos—actually coos—and says, nodding her head, “A classic. Your wife will absolutely love them, I guarantee it.” She swipes Peter’s card when he hands it to her, then points it at a basket stuffed full with some of the most garishly pink teddy bears Peter’s ever had the misfortune of seeing. “Now, since today’s a special day, if you buy a bouquet and one of our Sweetheart Bears, the cheaper item is 50% off.”

It takes some effort, but Peter manages to bite back his initial, sarcastic retort about the bear clashing with his furniture. Or anything else not absolutely, horrifyingly hideous, for that matter. “Just the roses, please.”

The King and his Castle by luulapants

(1/1 I 4,113 I Explicit)

Epilogue to The Prince and the Pease, will not make sense without reading that first.

The aftermath of the siege of Triskelion.

The Secret in His Eyes by cywscross

(1/1 I 5,901 I Teen)

In the chaotic mess with the Alpha Pack, nobody realizes Stiles was bitten. Even if they did, Stiles doubts anything would have changed.

That’s alright. After Scott lets Deucalion go, Stiles simply lies in wait for the so-called Demon Wolf at the edge of town, and in the dark of night, a wolfsbane bullet puts the werewolf down, and as Deucalion draws his last breath, Stiles’ eyes flare a bright blood red.

Mama's by 100percentfluffster

(1/1 I 16,841 I Not Rated)

Mama’s bar had been around for nearly two decades. In those twenty years she’d seen a lot of weird shit. In a bar in the middle of nowhere that catered extensively to the supernatural community, it was expected for weird things to happen. She’d seen creatures of every kind pass through, some of them pleasant and others terrifying. She’d seen bar brawls that ended in death and destruction, she’d seen alpha power transfers and pack turf wars. She’d helped her fair amount of strangers and dealt with an overzealous hunter ten years back. She was far from an easily intimidated person.

But there was a shift in the air when the Hales walked into her bar on a Tuesday at the tail end of November.

Don't leave me alone by Anything00but

(1/1 I 20,113 I Explicit)

Five times Stiles begs someone to love him and he gets turned down. And one time he doesn't have to beg. It's given to him freely.

Proposing To Strangers by moonstalker24

(35/35 I 50,191 I General)

At the end of a strained relationship, crime novelist Stiles chooses to hide from the world inside a bar with far too many motorcycles outside it for comfort. Here he'll meet the man of his dreams, eat food and propose marriage, all within the first five minutes.

Peter doesn't know who this kid is, but he's cute and looks like he could use a break. So he feeds him. He's not expecting a marriage proposal, but with what comes after, he doesn't really mind.

Hook, Yarn, Sinker by pprfaith

(23/23 I 65,675 I Not Rated)

Stiles is happy with his store, his hobbies, his friends. Peter's just trying to figure out how to raise his nieces and nephew without fucking them up too badly.

Paths cross.

Unpack Your Heart by Julibean19

(20/20 I 101,539 I Explicit)

The coffee table was on fire.

Derek leapt backwards as Stiles scrambled back on his hands in a crab walk until he hit a support beam.

"Stiles, what did you do!?" Derek yelled, eyes fixed on the flames. When he tore his gaze away to check on Stiles, he saw that his eyes were glowing a deep red. An Alpha red? Derek didn't have time to dwell on the exact color too long as the table top cracked and fell to the floor, flames rising higher.

Sequel to The Only Living Boy in which The Alpha Pack and the Darach attack, Stiles becomes the Hale Emissary, Stiles and Peter take their relationship to the next level, and everything is a bit more magic than anyone realized.

#teen wolf #steter #stiles stilinski #peter hale #fluff #magic!stiles

[pbandjesse]

Today was such a good day that my post is much later than normal because we were to busy having fun. Its rainy now and Im trying to wind down. But it is hard. Im just in a really good mood. 

I didnt sleep great last night. And I honestly woke up not feeling very good. I just felt sort of off centered. But I knew Jess was here, and shes an early riser. And with James waking up super early now Im sure he woke her up a bit. But even if I wasnt in the best space I knew I had to get up. We had lots of plans. 

And it was a great day. I got up and got dressed and tried my best to shake off the bad feelings. I took a dayquil and it helped by head but my belly was sort of weird all day. James made us biscuits and after I got dressed I had one of those and it was really good. I missed James's biscuits. 

I felt so stinking cute today. It was a really high self esteem day. And Jess looked so cute too! We were just adorable together. 

We had our breakfast and wasted a little time until it made sense to leave for Joanns. Jess decided to drive today because it was going to be rainy tomorrow so I will drive then. It was nice just being out with my best friend. 

First stop was Joanns for tye dye. I wanted to try this tye dye with black and Im hoping it doesnt overwhelm my other colors. But it was a lot of fun running around the store and finding sales for embroidery hoops and looking for the best dyes. We also just touched all the yarn and talked about projects and it was a good time. 

We had to waste enough time there that we werent waiting for Savers across the street to open. And we ended up taking just enough time and were over at the thrift store only a couple minutes after they opened and that was pretty cool. 

The big look for the day was something for me to tye dye. No luck at savers though. I was also looking for a basket for our bathroom that would fit on the ledge over our shower wall. No luck at savers either. But I did get some other great stuff. I got another skirt over all. One that actually fits me, as my other ones have gotten a little to small. I also got a button up dress I love. And some shirts for James. I also got a printed fleece and Im super excited about it because its thinner then my others but still very soft. I have been looking for a printed vintagey looking fleece but they are very in right now so its all expensive on ebay. But I found one in the men's pj section and Im super excited about it. 

It was funny though, when me and Jess were looking at dresses there were some workers there discussing the resale value of some dresses and it was super annoying to hear this person talk about what you can get something for. Stop pricing out thrift stores!! It is so obnoxious. The fun and the value in thrift stores is that you find gems for cheap. Stop pricing things based on labels!! Its such a pet peeve of mine. You got this stuff for free stop being shitty. 

But I still had a lot of fun, even if we have no self control when were together. We spent to much monies. But It was a good time. 

We went and got lunch next. With a pit stop to look at the ross to see if there was a tye dye able thing. No luck. We stopped for hair dye too since this color came out so nice, so I got a new one for next time. And then lunch. 

We got five guys. And we got our sandwiches with only good natured bullying from the cashier about our order. It was pretty funny. And I was just in a good mood. 

We had a car picnic. Talked about life. Listened to music. Complained about how our fries werent spicy.  And then we were off again. 

Next to the goodwill. Much better tye dye luck!! I found a creamy colored button down dress. And some things for Jess that Im just really excited to see what she does with. I found baskets!! The one was perfect but had no tag and I decided to take it to the cashier just so no one else would be disappointed. But then she was like. I can price this for you! And I looked at Jess like. What the fuck! Because I have literally been yelled at by cashiers at goodwill over tags!! This lady was amazing and I am so excited about it. So I got the perfect basket that is the perfect size for $4. Amazing. Incredible. So pleased. 

It was time to go home though. We got back here around 1. And had about an hour to put everything away. Take off tags. Take a breather. We sat on the bed and looked at a sustainable online shop together. And then it was time to get sweetP in his carrier to go to the follow up vet appointment. 

Which went fine. We got out there in one piece. We were a little early but they took him back and said it would be about a half hour and we could go to whole foods while we waited. 

So that is what we did. We got snacks for us and for James. I got 2 juices so I can have one tomorrow. Had a nice chat with the cashier about the cake we got. And then back to the vet. 

Sweetp did very good. Got all his tests and things. But again the bill was twice what I thought it was. So this whole thing has cost almost a grand and Im trying very hard no to be really upset. And just be happy I have a job and can deal with it. Its just. A lot. But I am glad sweetP will be okay. 

So we went home. And tried to keep the good energy flowing. 

We had out snack. Got sweetP treats too. And got to work figuring out tye dye. We watched some videos and made a plan. Jess was laughing at me when I brought out James's broken bike wheel to use as a drain rack over some bowels but it totally worked. I was a little bit of a director making a video well finish tomorrow. And it was just a blast. Like I said I made mine pretty dark. But I think it will come out cool. And if its to dark I will do the bleach dying over that and keep playing with it. It's all good. It was honestly just a blast doing this project together and Im excited to see what happens. 

Once we finished that we spent a few hours playing animal crossing next to each other. The snow is finally gone on our islands so we just worked on taking down the snow based things and moving stuff around. It was a lot of fun just being together. James made us pizza. And eventually I brought out the crayola crayons I brought from my parents and we went through them to find discontinued color names because Jess collects them and it was so much fun. We ended up find a resource that had all the 900+ colors and we started making lists and reading things and just sunk so much time into this silly fun project and I felt like I was in grad school researching again and it was so much fun. I just feel really happy. 

But we were all tired. James had been playing video games and music and spending some of the night with us. But they work such long days, so they are asleep next to me now. Love them so much. Trying very hard to write the correct pronouns, but its hard to rewire. I will keep trying because I love my James so much. 

We all decided it was bed time. Wind down time. I went and got a shower. Bumped my piercing pretty hard so now its bothering me. I tried on all my new clothes and Im so pleased. And now I am in bed and very sleepy. I hope I can just fall asleep easy and tomorrow I will feel great. 

We are going to a mall together. So weird. I hope its just a fun day and we finish our tye dye and we just feel happy. And I hope you do too! Goodnight my friends!! Be safe out there! 

[creativeskullcreations]

HTaHHQ Episode 2: The Return (part 2)

And here's the end of Episode Two: The Return! Next episode will be out... later. Whenever I figure out what it's gonna be. XD

I mean, I do kinda have a plan, it's just a really loose one. Anyways, I hope you enjoy this chapter, and Outside 12 will be up on schedule.

The room beyond was an odd combination of sewing room and bedroom. Half made hand puppet toys placed on stands, large pieces of fabric, and even a tangle of yarn were littered around. In the center was a small table with a chair, and what looked like a fresh baked pie sitting on top. Beside the pie was a plate with a single slice of pie sitting on it, and Stacy could see where it had been cut out of the bigger part.

Scout was also on the table, looking quite sulky about it. Daisy "stood" across from the chair, whispering something at the small Puppet. Stacy cleared her throat and both them looked up at her. "Ah, there you are Sugar. Go on and sit down, I made you some pie."

Stacy sat, feeling stiff and tense, clenching her right fist before before taking off her left hand glove. She picked the fork up and examined the pie carefully. The pie filling wasn't red, at least, so she could give the Puppet that. Daisy kept staring, so she took a small bite of the treat.

'Huh. Apple.' The girl noted as sh chewed, ignoring the far too happy look on Daisy's face. "It's good." She muttered, not looking at the puppet, who clapped her hands together.

"Excellent!" She grinned. "Now, about that favor..."

'Oh boy, here we go.' Stacy knew what happened when adults wanted "favors", that it was usually chores, or helping younger brothers with something. And, living puppet or not, Daisy was an adult, which meant a chore.

"Yeah?" She asked, wanting to just get it over with, and hoping it would be an easy one. If it was too difficult, she felt that at least she didn't have to do it. After all, Lydia had told her she didn't have to help the Puppets.

"Well, I'm sure you've noticed by now that some little Hand Puppets," she sent the small Puppet a motherly glare, "like to sneak out of their room during the day."

"You want me to play babysitter." Stacy deduced. Mary had actually sad the same line once about Danny. Daisy blinked in surprise, having had a whole speech prepared.

"Er, well, yes." She stumbled. "If you wouldn't mind, that is. Since Scout somehow keeps finding her way to where ever you are, I figured it would just be easier if you kept an eye on her from the beginning."

"Yeah. I can do that." A glance down showed Scout staring up at the girl, a wide, undisguised grin on her face. "Shouldn't be too much harder than watching Danny. At least Scout will be able to hear if I call her."

"Oh, thank you so much Sugar!" She seemed genuinely happy, which startled the girl. Maybe Scout getting out was a bigger problem than she'd thought?

"Uh, no problem?" She didn't know what to say, and leaned away just a little. She glanced at the door, wondering if she should try and make an escape. Daisy noticed and, thankfully, misinterpreted what she wanted.

"Oh, you must be thirsty! Let me get you some iced tea!" Daisy turned to get some, but Stacy quickly stopped her.

"Uh, no thanks? I don't need it!" She hated tea, iced or not. "Besides, I should probably be getting back to work. Uuuuuh, I thought I heard, uh, yelling, earlier." She pulled her glove back on and stood up.

"Oh that was just Riley, dear. She gets like that sometimes." Daisy looked only a little annoyed, more like a mother mentioning how her child won't put laundry away, rather than talking about a Puppet verbally abusing two grown men. It was a little off putting to the girl

"Great..." Stacy was so glad she wasn't working directly for the Puppets. Or rather, only working directly for Daisy, as of right now. She always liked her better than the other two, anyways, even with her explosive temper. Heck, she even found the anger funny sometimes. Still, she gathered Scout in her arms, then paused.

"What's wrong Honey?" Daisy asked from where she was putting plastic wrap over the pie. She placed it in a small picnic basket.

"Uh, we came here through the vents..." Stacy admitted sheepishly. "I don't know how to get back..." She refused to look at the Puppet.

"Oh that's no problem at all! I'll show you the way. You'll need to know anyways, since you'll be back here again..."

Daisy wheeled her way down the hall, showing Stacy to the... elevators? Somehow, and Stacy was unsure of exactly how, they had climbed up to a second floor of the studio, where all the Puppets apparently lived. Although according to Daisy, there was also a few storage rooms and offices, as well as Riley's apparently very real lab.

"But it's perfectly safe." Daisy assured the girl as they rode back down to the studio. "At least, she said it is..."

Somehow, that did not make Stacy feel better.

But they quickly reached the bottom, and as they stepped out of the open doors Lydia approached, staring at a clipboard. She glanced briefly at them as she passed by.

"Oh good. You found her." She said, reading through whatever was on the board. "I knew you would. You always seem to."

"Sure did Sugar. Sorry it took so long, we had some pie and Stacy agreed to do something for me." Daisy told the woman, who motioned for the two to follow them.

"What sort of..." Lydia trailed off as she looked back at the girl, quickly spotting Scout, who waved at her with a cheerful grin. Lydia gave a small wave back, giving Daisy a Look. "Uh, I see."

"I'm glad." Daisy replied, wheeling up alongside the coordinator. She peered at the clipboard, having to raise her stand  a little to see. "Now, where are we on the schedule?"

"Well..."

While the two adults talked, Stacy watched them from behind, still holding Scout.  'I guess Daisy isn't really that bad. She certainly seems nicer than Riley, anyways.' She scoffed quietly, and Scout looked up at her.

"Hey." The Puppet whispered. "Think you can sneak me home in that big bag of yours?"

"What? No! I'm not going to do that!" Stacy whispered back. "I'll get in deep shiitake if I do!"

"Awww, c'mon! Mom said you had to watch me!" She insisted, and Stacy glared a little.

"Yeah, you and the others." Okay, technically she hadn't said to watch the others, but it felt implied. And hey, if it meant she didn't have to sweep again, she was sure she could watch a few kids for a shift or two.

"Then bring them too!" Scout grinned, and Stacy suppressed a groan.

"Okay fine! But not tonight! It'll have to be later, when my parents aren't home."

Scout beamed, and Stacy considered the matter done with. She could easily ask Mary later about when they'd be gone, under the pretense of a movie night with Danny. That movie night would just also include five Hand Puppets, but nobody else needed to know that. And, with any luck, Daisy would be glad to have a night off from them too.

At least, Stacy hoped she would.

---------

"So that's where the girl went, then? And you were going to tell us about this.... when?" Mortimer asked, anger just barely disguised. The work day was now over with, and even Lydia had long since gone home. Daisy had then put her children to bed, leaving the wooden Puppets alone in their kitchen.

"Right now Sugar." Daisy shot back from where she was pulling a ham out of the oven. She put it on the stove and turned, hands on her hips. "I could hardly abandon the girl up here to come update you, now could I?"

"Hmmph." He ignored the logic as he refocused on his paperwork while Riley muttered beside him.

"Why do you get to talk to her? I don't get to talk to her." She muttered, arms crossed as she glared at some unseen thing. Nick paused from his own preparations of dinner to sigh heavily.

"You don't get to talk to her because you terrify children, Riley." He told her, smirking at the offended gasp she gave in response. She didn't really, but her loudness and erratic ways weren't as amusing to the older kids as they were to the younger ones. And so, despite liking working with the older crowd more, she struggled to relate to them.

"I do not!" She hissed. She looked like she might slap him before Mortimer forced himself between them.

"And that's quite enough of that!" He ordered. "Stop it now, or I'll beat you both with my hat!"

"That was truly terrible." Daisy quipped as she sliced the ham. "But no, Riley, I get to talk to Stacy, because I'm not a screeching harpy."

"I do not screech!" Riley screeched. Nick lost it, bending over and wheezing with laughter. Mortimer gave both him and Daisy a disapproving glare.

"I will end you!" Riley hissed out, and if looks could kill, the artist would be splinters. But Mortimer grabbed her by the arms and forced her to her spot at the table.

"Enough with the insults you two. Honestly, I expected better of all of you." He scolded as Nick finally got a hold of himself and helped Daisy place the food on the table. They sat down, and Daisy started serving up the food. Once that was done, the country belle took a deep breath and looked the scientist in the eye.

"I am sorry, Honey." And she really did look sorry, enough that Riley softened her glare a little. "But we need to go slow with this one. Something terrible has given her an awful fright from what I've heard."

"Hmm, Mary did mention that something had happened during the last Holiday Season." Nick mentioned, not looking up from his plate, where he'd sculpted his potatoes into an image of himself. "Some sort of wild animal attack, from what I could make out."

Riley sighed. "I wish you two would stop your eavesdropping! Honestly, it's really rather appalling." She stabbed into her ham, not even bothering to pretend to eat. Not that she saw much point in such an act anyways. She was long past the point of being fascinated with her own body's functions, and even those of humans.

"However you learned it, please do not repeat it." The magician insisted, rubbing his temples. "Spreading rumors is not something I wish to deal with." He also was ignoring his food, paperwork spread out in front of him instead. There was too much to be done for him to take a break, even if he did make the effort to be present. "But enough of all of that. Daisy, obviously, must have a plan to enact."

"Oh you bet I do, Sugar." She grinned. "I've already managed to convince Stacy to watch Scout whenever she breaks out. They already seem pretty attached to each other, even though they've only met once before." She grinned just a little wider. "And, Scout herself has already agreed to help with the next part of my plan."

"Which is?" Nick asked, impatient. He really hated when she decided to be coy. It annoyed him and made him wish she'd just get to the point.

"You'll see. It'll work out better if you aren't expecting it." She smirked, before delicately taking a bite of mashed potatoes. "And great work on the taters, Nicky. You did even better than last time."

Nick grumbled, but couldn't keep the smile off his face at the compliment. If there was one way to get on his good side, it was by ego stroking. It was true both on and off the show.

Daisy only hoped Stacy knew that little tidbit. It would make Phase Two go so much smoother if she did.

#hello puppets #fanfiction #htahhq #happy times at handeemen hq #scout #stacy stein #daisy danger #riley ruckus #nick nack #mortimer handee #lydia harris

[letusdiehere]

sweet ‘n sour

GEN AHIT fanfic (oneshot, drabble)

Warnings: canon canonical undeath, Hat Kid is “missing”.

Summary: Cooking Cat does what she does best for the biggest baddie in town: Snatcher.

edit (ao3 link): https://archiveofourown.org/works/25811209

“Hello there! So nice of your soul to drop in.” The specter drawled, his smile curling. Cooking Cat, as she was known by Snatcher, tried not to shudder in the doorway. She dropped the picnic basket in front of him as he sat on his chair—his throne—and stood patiently with paws clasped. One of his’ extended to take it and he ruffled inside, utensils and plates clanking together as he did.

“I’m impressed,” He said absently. There was a twinkle in his eye that made him look less dead,  "you really came through.” She ducked her head and turned to leave when Snatcher cleared his throat.

“Aren’t you missing something?” Cooking Cat’s eyes darted around the room and her eyebrows knitted together in confusion. The two made eye contact.

“No?” She said, failing to keep the venom out of her voice, “what am I missing?” He gestured to the doorway and he saw four hooded figures scramble away from the hollow.

“I usually wouldn’t tolerate that tone from you, considering the position that you’re in... but they wanted to have some fun with you…” She didn’t like the sound of that. She gulped as discreetly as possible and exited outside.

And that’s how she learned the masked ghosts, at least her captors were children.

“What’s it like outside of Subcon?”

“How often do you watch movies?”

“Do you get to bed when you want to?”

She tried to remain calm as a crowd of them climbed all over her, put their mitten-like hands all over her tail, touched her ears, and took her hat. It was incredibly difficult not to yell. Thankfully, most of them grew tired of her as she began to gather sticks. But when she kneeled down to start the fire, two of them jumped onto her back. She yelped.

“Now listen here!” Her anger finally boiled over and she stood abruptly and turned onto the two that were now on the ground. “Good little girls and boys do not jump on other people!”

“What if you are not a girl or a boy? Neither?” One of the Subconites shot back.

“People should not jump on people!” She corrected, paws on hips and she returned to the cauldron dangling over the bundle she had yet to ignite. She began to strike the rocks together. Sparks flew.

“What are you doing here anyway? In Subcon?” The same one said snootily. “Shouldn’t you be chasing yarn somewhere? Cat?” Cooking Cat grit her teeth.

“This is the one Hat Kid caught, remember?” Skkkh! The flame began to grow and she lowered herself to the ground. “She was right to pick you. You have such a pretty soul…I wonder why the boss didn’t take it?” Cooking Cat sighed, thinking back to Hat Kid. She had followed the girl into Subcon Forest with the intention of protecting her from her 'BFF', and then Hat Kid had simply disappeared. Now that she was looking back... it was her own fault. She wasn't looking for the traps.

“How can you tell? How her soul looks?”

“Look at her aura! It’s so bright…” She said, “you have a lot of magic inside of you, don’t you?”

Cooking Cat looked up, startled. She put a gentle hand to her chest. The flame had grown a decent size, admitting heat and casting them orange on one side. She suspected that she looked the same.

“You…you can tell?” Her voice trembled.

“Is that a yes?” The child’s chin rose, pleased with themself.

“Yeah, how can you tell? I just see it. Her aura,” The other one leaned in close, and Cooking Cat was forced to stare into their swirling face. “I just see… her.” She opted not to answer and tried to busy her hands with the bundle of herbs and fungus she had found. She picked up a mushroom and prepared to dice it with her unsheathed claws.

“Well… when I was ali—HEY!” Cooking Cat and the other child jumped. Aura Subconite surged forward and snatched the mushroom from her paws.

“Hey! I need that for the broth!” Please let her be done. After this, maybe she would finally figure out where Hat Kid was, and she could leave this horrid place.

“It’s poisonous!”

“No, it’s not!” Cooking Cat snapped before she ran a paw over her head, willing her frayed nerves for an ounce of patience, “no it is not. The one with dark blue spots are. These are lighter.”

The aura Subconite brought the mushroom closer to their face. “…How can you tell? You just got here a couple of weeks ago, I’ve been here my entire unlife.”

“I’ve been here before.” She said automatically, her eyes growing hazy. She had when it was… alive. People walked the roads, trading spices, and rumors, and stories. Hadn’t Subcon been a beautiful place once? The two considered each other.

“I recognize you…” Aura muttered, and something resonated in the back of Cooking Cat’s mind.

“Me too.” Cooking Cat said, face softening, Cooking Cat said, face softening. It had like she had literally known Aura from another life.  “J…Jamie?”Aura—or Jamie?— paused for a second. Then they burst out laughing.

“Hahahaha! No? I think you’ve spent too long inhaling spores!”

“What are you cooking for, anyway?” Snooty asked, jumping repeatedly to look into the cauldron.

“I figured…if I am going to be staying here, I might as well…make a good impression on you children.” Never mind that she was contractually obligated to.

“How do you know? That we’re kids?” Snooty responded.

“I’ve lived long enough to know,” She said, “now do you know where I can get some freshwater?"

#fanfic #a hat in time #ahit #cooking cat #snatcher #enemies to friends #original subconite characters #subcon forest #hat kid #self-indulgent #cw: character undeath #cw: character death #just a warm up #more fics might come soon #Aura (oc) #Snooty (oc) #gender-neutral character(s) #short story

[lamiasluck]

Smitten

Summary: Yan has to recover from another heartbreak from her senpai... As she's moping by herself, she realizes that something is watching her. An adorable kitten!

Characters: Yan, Bing, Dark, and others mentioned briefly

Words: 1727

Tags: @bingiplierdaily

Read on AO3!

-

Muffled sobs could be heard throughout the forest. Yan pressed herself against a nearby tree as she tucked her knees to her chest. As she ducked her head down, she reminisced on her hopeless situation.

Another senpai lost from her grasp. How could she have known that this senpai was married?

The blood staining her blade and body dried a long time ago ever since her horrid discovery. This senpai was supposed to be the one. He was completely different from the man she loved last week, afterall! If the other egos had to cope with her heartbreak then so be it. Not like this is the first time they had to endure one of Yan’s senpai driven meltdowns.

Mew!

Yan immediately snapped her head towards the sound. It sounded like… something squeaked? Whatever it was, it was rustling in a bush right next to her. She wiped her tears on her sleeve as she went to investigate. When she pushed away the branches and leaves and was met with…

Mew!

The cutest goddamn kitten she’s ever seen! A tiny munchkin kitten was staring at her with wide eyes. A single head tilt sent Yan in a fit of coos and praise.

“You’re so cute! Tiny baby!” All sense of sorrow was gone and replaced with immense joy. Cautiously, Yan reached over to pet the kitten, only to be surprised by the creature meeting her halfway and butting its head against her hand.

Brrp?

At least this time the tears Yan shed weren’t out of sorrow. This tiny kitten was the perfect solution for such a bad day. She could barely remember her past senpai’s name as she eagerly pet the purring cat. The kitten managed to find solace on Yan’s lap, clearly ecstatic while getting head scratches. Yan picked up the cat to search for its mother or owner. Sure, she just killed a couple in cold blood but she wasn’t going to steal a cat! That’d be too cruel even for her taste.

After a thorough search around the forest, Yan found nothing. Did someone abandon this poor creature? That monster! If Yan ever crossed paths with the culprit she wouldn’t hesitate to skewer them at the end of her sword.  

Yan stared at the kitten, the kitten stared back with curious eyes. Her mind was set. Somehow, someway, she was going to sneak this cat into the manor.

A couple of egos were lounging in the commons area, chatting away to their heart’s content. All was well until they saw Yan attempt to bolt through the room.

“Uh, Yan?” Bim stopped her in her tracks. “You alright there?”

“Yup, just peachy!” She was sweating bullets. Awkward arms covering her stomach hid the tiny lump that was a sleeping kitten under her shirt.

“You’re… you’re covered in blood,” Dr. Iplier wearily said.

“Oh, right. That.” Yan averted her eyes from the crowd. “Senpai didn’t notice me, but that’s okay! I feel better now.”

Everyone in the room was surprised by Yan’s lax attitude. Usually, a failed romance decommissioned the hopeless romantic for at least a couple days.

Mew-

Yan violently coughed to cover up the kitten’s meow. After her fit, she flashed a nervous smile. The others exchanged confused glances amongst each other, but Yan quickly beat them to the punch.

“I-I just feel a bit sick!” She fake coughed again. “I’m gonna go rest in my room. See ya guys!”

Before anyone could object, Yan ran away clutching her stomach. She burst through her room’s door, quickly locking it behind her with a sigh of relief.

Mrow?

“Yes, yes, I know. I’m sorry, but the others can’t know about you,” she replied sympathetically. That was a close one. Surely, the others would definitely continue their questioning with her terrible performance, but at least she had time to think of a plan.

She took the kitten out of her shirt and placed him on her bed, kneeling so that she was eye level with him. As the tiny cat explored the vast space, Yan took the time to admire how adorable he was. Like mentioned before, the kitten was a male. He had pretty orange and black calico spots and walked on the cutest, stubbiest little legs Yan’s ever seen.

Taking care of a cat must take a lot of responsibility, but Yan could take time off senpai hunting if it meant caring for this pretty kitty. He would need toys, food, a litter box… and about a dozen little hand knitted outfits she was going to make in her spare time.

“We can have matching clothes! What’d you think of that, sweetie?”

Mew!

Perfect, the plan was set. By tomorrow Yan would surround herself in yarn and kitty toys.

“You need a name… What do you think?”

Brrp?

The kitten gently batted at Yan’s face, clearly in a playful mood. After some thought, Yan figured out the perfect name.

“Aiko…?” The name felt right as she said it. A proud smile dawned on her lips as the kitten looked at her and tilted his head.

Mrow!

“That’s right, Aiko! My sweet, little love child!” She went overboard on the baby voice as she pet Aiko. The kitten was overwhelmed by the affection and was jumping for joy. The room was filled with coos and purrs, both Yan and Aiko were enjoying each other’s company.

Then there was a knock on the door.

Yan was frozen in place, staring at the door with scared eyes. Hesitantly, she stepped away from Aiko, despite the kitten’s protest, and walked towards the door. There was a faint, but distinct ringing noise on the other side.

Oh, fuck.

Yan cracked open the door slightly and made sure Aiko was out of sight.

“Hey, Dark,” Yan greeted the entity while giving him an awkward smile. “What brings you here?”

Dark looked at the younger ego with an unamused expression. The blood stained clothes and scared attitude certainly must be a sight to see. He exhaled loudly through his nose, everyday was eventful for the entity.

“I heard from the others that you were acting odd, even more so than usual.” Dark’s stern gaze pierced through Yan’s soul. She needed to stay strong. For Aiko!

“Yeah… senpai rejected me today,” she put on her best poker face as she replied.

“Clearly that’s not the only reason why you’re acting like this.”

“Um, I also feel kinda sick.” Alongside the fake cough, she also faked a little sniffle.

“What are you hiding, Yandere?” Dark was becoming impatient, his shell cracked slightly under the stress. Yan flinched with each flare of his shell.

She caved in.

“Well, when I was in the forest… I kinda,” she couldn’t think of the right words. “I might have-”

Mew?!

“I found a cat and I’m keeping him,” she rushed through her words as she opened the door more, revealing Aiko rolled over on his back.

The cat was out of the bag, Dark stood bewildered at the scene before him. Aiko and him seemed to have a staring contest with how intense their unbreaking eye contact was. Out of all the nonsense the entity had the deal with, this was up there. He pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes for a few seconds.

“How are you going to take care of an animal? Do you know how much responsibility it takes to tend to a kitten?” He kept glancing back and forth at Yan and Aiko. “You’re out of the house far too often to have a pet.”

“I swear I’ll take care of Aiko! I’ll cut back on senpai hunting just please let me keep him,” Yan begged while giving Dark the best puppy eyes she could muster. Or would they be kitten eyes in this case? That’s a problem for another day.

Dark paused. “You’ll stop pursuing your senpais…?” he asked out of disbelief, to which Yan frantically nodded her head. He glanced at the kitten once more, the kitten stared back with hopeful eyes. “Fine.”

“Really?!”

“But you’re solely responsible for whatever mess your cat creates.” Dark sighed and started to walk out of the room. “ Don’t make me regret my decision, Yan.”

The second Dark closed the door behind him, Yan squealed and became all giddy. She picked up Aiko and cradled him in her arms.

“Did you hear that, sweetheart?”

Mrow!

“That’s right! You get to stay with me!” Aiko purred contently, kneading Yan’s shirt to get more comfortable. As Yan looked at her pride and joy, she thought about what to do next. Food, she should probably get some kitten food. She should probably change out of her bloody clothes too. She pulled out her phone and texted one of her friends for help.

Yan spent hours playing with Aiko before there was another knock on the door.

“Yo, dude? I got your stuff,” Bing yelled outside her door. As she let Bing in she was greeted with an ecstatic android and a large basket full of kitten goods. “Congrats on being a parent!”

“Oh my god!” She gasped as she looked at what Bing brought. “I thought you were just getting some food?” Not only did Bing get a dozen cans of kitten food, he also got a bed, litter, and a bunch of toys.

“Well,” he awkwardly scratched the back of his head. “You need more than some food for the little guy. I figured I might as well help ya out, yknow?”

Yan thanked her friend while showing the basket of goods to Aiko. The kitten meowed loudly once he smelled food, hungry after hours of playing.

“Aw~” Bing cooed as he saw Aiko. “He’s so fucking tiny, dude!”

“Hey,” Yan paused from opening up a can and scolded Bing. “Don’t swear in front of him, he’s a child!”

“Ah, right. He’s a baby.” Aiko was still preoccupied by the smell of food. “Sorry, little dude.”

“Never copy Uncle Bing, Aiko. It’ll only lead to trouble.”

Mew!

The two continued to laugh as they showed Aiko the various gifts brought for him. The kitten seemed satisfied with each item, meowing loudly and tumbling around. Other egos stopped by periodically to see the new member of the household. Everyone was smitten the second Aiko looked at them.

And Aiko was smitten with everyone too.  

#yandereiplier #bingiplier #Darkiplier #markiplier egos #fanfic

[hellowallflowerfriend]

For it is in giving that we receive. -- Saint Francis of Assisi

During our last yoga teacher training, we talked a little bit about Christmas traditions. It made me think about my family and the things we have done to honor this special holiday which is so important to so many. 

At the end of our weekend training, we shared our different holiday traditions with each other. We sat criss-cross in a circle and told each other the things which make this day so special to us.

I remember a few memories with so much fondness. Kelsey, my twin sister, usually woke up before my younger sister, (Keaton,) and myself. She would climb into my mom’s bed and wait until my mom said it was time to wake up. One morning, Kelsey heard something -- who knows what -- maybe a plane flying overhead. My mom told her that it was the sound Rudolph’s nose makes, and that was more than enough to help Kelsey quiet down. As an adult, I think this is so sweet and precious, that my mother helped my twin sister ignite her imagination: “That is the sound Rudolph’s nose makes!” I imagine my mom whispering it, covers warm and safe, Kelsey lying next to her, just a little girl and full of wonder and hope.

The day after Thanksgiving, we always put the tree up. Some of my favorite ornaments included my mom’s antique ornaments, so fragile and light. I have always been afraid to touch her antique ornaments. They were so breakable, so beautiful, and so full of history. Some of the ornaments were even passed down from my great-grandmother!

We also put up a few ornaments my mom made as a little girl -- including a, “snow globe,” which was made inside one of those plastic containers which toys came inside of out of those quarter machines. There is a little tiny snowman and tiny, “snowflakes,” in it. I have spent several hours perhaps looking at this ornament, imagining my mom as a little girl, with her small hands and hopeful smile, creating a miniscule Christmas scene.

There is a sparkly, beautiful angel that I gave my little sister, made out of a clothespin, which I remember spending money on (from my Mom, of course,) at a school function. I love this ornament because of how happy it made Keaton when I gave it to her.

My mom also used to put skiing tickets on our tree. These are from when my mom and my dad were married. I remember watching her face, the sadness and loss that she seemed to try to hide as she placed these tickets on the tree. They are some of my favorite ornaments because they tell a story of love and recovery.

My great grandma was also quite a master at crocheting. She made some ornaments, the, “God’s eye,” ornament, as well as a miniature basket full of yarn which she crocheted. I love the family history that hangs on evergreen branches each year.

My mom created a tradition with us on Christmas Eve which is in some ways non-traditional. We went to Mass at the Catholic Church, and then we came home to eat appetizers for dinner. We ate summer sausage, cheddar cheese, crackers, midget pickles, and mozzarella sticks. We baked cookies for Santa and set out carrots for the reindeer. We even sprinkled the lawn with reindeer food. Afterward, we were allowed to unwrap one present, and we always pretended to not know what was inside. But, every year, my mom neatly wrapped matching pajamas for us Wylie sisters. We almost always took a picture in our pajamas together in front of the tree.

The next morning, we would wake up -- Kelsey first, then Keaton, then me. (I have always been a sleepy head!) We weren’t allowed to go downstairs until my mom played Christmas music. Then, we would run downstairs, and yell excitedly about what Santa brought.

The carrot always had a big bite out of it. The cookies were always left in crumbles. The milk glass was empty. My mom even admitted to going outside to pick up the reindeer, “food,” we put out, (straw and sparkles,) so that we would continue to believe in Santa.

Christmas morning, the first thing I would do is kneel by the tree and pray. I thanked God for giving us Jesus as I sat by the sparkly tree. (How many times had we played, “I Spy,” looking at that tree before?) I bowed my head and thanked God that He gave my family someone who loves us so much.

My mom and dad would sit by the fireplace and watch us unwrap our generous gifts. My dad had a way of laughing, almost sounding like Santa himself, that sounded something like, “Oh-Ho-Ho!” His eyes would sparkle as he watched our happiness unfold on Christmas morning.

As I grew older, I started to question things. I had always been such a believer, but I started to wonder how Santa could be anyone but my mom. Heck, even the labeling on the presents looked like they were in her handwriting, just shakier. My wish-lists to Santa began to mostly be letters of gratitude. In my letters to Santa, I told Kris Kringle how grateful I was for everything he did for us and how much I loved him, suspecting all along that it was my mother.

After my parents’ separation, it was all girls for the first time: it was me, my twin sister Kelsey, and my younger sister Keaton. We also had Molly (our dog,) there with us. My mom had already started a tradition that we could not go downstairs until we heard Christmas music resounding downstairs. Upon hearing those beautiful notes, we would run down the stairs and first look in our stockings. I usually trailed behind, looking deeply at my mother and knowing that she was probably Santa, knowing from our shared nights together the tears which it took to leave my father.

My mom let us eat a cookie and some Christmas candy for breakfast, and she usually prepared Stratta (one of the last vestiges of our German heritage, an egg casserole with cheese, sausage, and onions.) We opened our presents one-by-one, and usually had a, “fashion show,” after all the gifts were unwrapped.

Fast forward to this year:

It will be the second year that my mom has lived in her small, one-story home. My sisters and I have never lived in this home, but it still feels like Christmas. I think this is because, in our minds, wherever my mom is feels like home. Kelsey, Keaton, and I will spend the night with her on Christmas Eve, and we will eat appetizers for dinner. Eventually, my mom will invite us to open one present. We will pretend to not know what it is, but we will know that it is our matching pajamas. We will put them on, full of smiles, even as adults -- our matching pajamas, and we will line up for a picture in front of the tree.

I will search the Christmas trees for my heritage hanging on a hook. I will stare deeply at the flickering lights. I will not pray, but I will meditate on the beauty which surrounds me in my life. I will think of all the sacrifices, the love, and the beauty which my Mom has made to make my life so meaningful.

We will have a big sleepover, all girls. My mom will wake before us, and she will play Christmas music loudly enough to wake us. We will get up and walk into the living room to see the presents she snuck out overnight -- as if Santa was still real. We will take turns opening presents, one-by-one, savoring the beauty that comes with sharing love in the form of gift-giving.

We will eat cookies, candy, and stratta for breakfast. 

I believe still more than ever in the Love which surrounds this holiday. I still kneel by the tree and reflect on everything which I am grateful for. I hope that each and every one of you find Love more than anything else during this holiday season. I hope that the Good in me helps grow the Good in you. If any of you are having trouble finding meaning, love, or purpose during this time, please feel free to reach out to me -- your Wallflower Friend.

I also want to give a special dedication here to my mother, Joie Rathbun Wylie. Thank you, Mom, for making sure that the Magic always lives on with our little family of girls. I love you and am so grateful to have learned the Reason for the Season through your example.

Merry Christmas everyone, and Happy Holidays! Namaste, dear friends.

[ironwoman359]

A Sanders Carol Chapter Eight

A Sanders Carol Masterlist

Ch.1, Ch.2, Ch.3, Ch.4, Ch.5, Ch.6, Ch.7, Ch.8, Ch.9, Epilogue

Summary: Dr. Logan Sanders is perfectly satisfied with his life, thank you very much. He has his work, he has his position. His bills are paid, and his lifestyle is primed for optimum health. And he is far too busy maintaining his perfectly balanced lifestyle to worry about things like Christmas, much to the dismay of his few remaining friends. Hardened by years of working to get ahead in his field, nothing is capable of swaying his cold heart, not even the dire straits of his graduate assistant or the pleas of his closest friends.He also does not believe in ghosts.So when he suddenly finds the ghost of his old mentor in his apartment warning him of three more spirits to come, what will he choose to believe? Will Logan take the spirits’ words to heart in time to change his ways, or will the fate of his future be sealed forever?

Pairings: Platonic LAMP/T, Platonic Logicality (could be read as pre-romantic)

Warnings (for the whole fic): Death mention, illness, hospitals, allusions of child abuse/neglect, ghosts, lying/deception, Deceit character, crying, angst, please let me know if I need to add anything!

Chapter Word Count: 2,541

Logan stared in disbelief at the sight of Patton sobbing his heart out, but before he could even properly process it, the scene began to shift and change again. Logan gripped the spirit’s arm tighter as the vision of his four heartbroken friends faded away.

“Wait! What happened?” he pleaded. "What...why would I say that? How could I say those things, to Patton of all people, I..." Logan trailed off as the ghost turned to him, his expression solemn. 

He considered the fact that, if he were mad enough, he could see himself saying things similar to what Patton had described.

“Patience,” was all the ghost said, before he turned back to watch as yet again a new scene appeared before them.

They were watching Joan again, following them as they walked out of the science building at the university and down the street. Logan recognized the route they were taking, and glanced up at the spirit.

“Are we going where I think we’re going?” he asked, and while the ghost didn’t respond, he did smile down at Logan before turning his gaze back towards Joan.

Sure enough, the two of them were soon following Joan through the doors of The Gallery, Virgil’s cafe. Logan glanced around the warmly lit space as Joan stood in line for coffee. It showed how long it’d been since he’d been there that even in this muted color scheme, he could tell Virgil had made quite a few changes. The art on display was different, of course, but Virgil updated those displays once a week. What struck Logan the most was the difference in furniture arrangement, and the addition of several new menu items, all named after classic art pieces and artists, as usual.

“What name on your order?” the girl behind the counter asked, pulling Logan out of his thoughts.

“Joan.”  

“Joan? Joan Stokes?” a voice echoed, causing both Logan and Joan to turn.

Thomas was seated at one of the tables, a cup of coffee in his hands. Virgil was sitting across from him, and now both of them were looking over at Joan with interest.

“Yes?” Joan asked hesitantly.

“I thought I recognized you. You were my cousin’s grad assistant, weren’t you?” Thomas asked.

“Oh...you mean Dr. Sanders? Uh, y-yeah, I uh, I was,” Joan said, suddenly looking very uncomfortable.

Thomas picked up on their discomfort quickly, and smiled a warm smile.

“Don’t worry, I’m not mad, and I’m not going to yell at you or anything.” He nodded towards the coffee that was now being pushed across the counter towards them. “Do you have a minute to sit with us?”

Joan shrugged.

“Sure, I guess,” they said, reaching into their pocket to retrieve their wallet.

“Don’t worry about that,” Virgil piped up from behind Thomas. He nodded to the girl working the counter. “Put it on the house, Ari.” The girl nodded, then smiled at Joan before turning her attention to the next customer.

“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” Joan started, but Virgil waved them off.

“Don’t worry about it. It’s the least we can do.”

“I’m sorry, I’m still not sure what this is about?” Joan asked, taking a sip of their coffee.

“Well, first of all, I’m Thomas Sanders, and this is my friend Virgil Picani,” Thomas said.

Virgil smiled at Joan and threw them a two fingered salute.

“Uh, I’m Joan. Joan Stokes, they/them pronouns, please.”

Thomas smiled and nodded, but his smile quickly faded and he looked down at his hands.

“So, um...haha, I don’t really know what to say,” he admitted. “I didn’t plan this or anything, I just...I saw you there, and I felt like I had to talk to you, um…”

Virgil rolled his eyes fondly, taking a drag from his own mug of coffee.

“You’re the one that filed the complaint, aren’t you?” he asked matter-of-factly, looking at Joan with one eyebrow raised. “The one that led to Logan’s suspension.”

Joan stiffened as they looked back and forth between Virgil and Thomas.

“Uhhh, I, uh…” they stammered, but Thomas shook his head quickly.

“No no, it’s not like that! I figured it must have been you, that’s why I wanted to talk to you. But I’m not mad at you or anything, Joan. In fact...” Thomas took a deep breath, then smiled again. “I think it took a lot of courage for you to do what you did. It’s commendable.”  

“I just...didn’t want to work with him anymore,”Joan admitted. “I was only trying to see if I could get transferred to another professor or something. I didn’t mean for him to get suspended on grounds of verbal abuse.”

“That’s not your fault,” Virgil insisted. “He...well, he’s complicated, but that doesn’t excuse how he treated you.”

“That’s what Talyn says too,” Joan admitted, smiling a little.

"Talyn?" Virgil asked.

"My partner...they're the one who convinced me to file a complaint."

Virgil nodded appreciatively.

"They sound smart," he said, and Joan visibly relaxed a bit.

“And that’s why I wanted to talk to you,” Thomas added. “Logan...he’s my cousin, but he’s like a little brother to me. My dad raised both of us together, and after everything that’s happened, I feel as though I owe you an apology.”

Joan shook their head, smiling a bit more warmly.

“No no, that’s alright. It wasn’t your fault either; I certainly don’t blame you.”

“Maybe not,” Thomas smiled back. “But still. If you ever need anything, let me know.”  

“Thank you,” Joan said as the scene began fading away from Logan’s vision. “I will.”

“Verbal abuse?!” Logan asked quietly as the last remnants of the vision disappeared. “How...how did that happen?"

The ghost looked down at him, a solemn yet slightly amused expression on his face.

“I am the Ghost of Christmas Future, Logan. You know your past better than I.”

Logan’s face burned, and he looked away, folding his arms.

“I think you’ve made yourself clear,” he said quietly.

“Perhaps,” the ghost said, and Logan caught a hint of sympathy in his voice. “But we are not yet finished here.”

Logan looked up to see another vision, this one even blurrier around the edges, with the perspective farther away than the others had been. It showed Joan introducing Talyn to Thomas and Virgil in The Gallery, Talyn looking impossibly thin, but excited. He saw their mouths moving, but couldn’t make out what they were saying; it was as if he was trying to listen to them from underwater.

The image shifted, and it showed everyone gathered at Roman’s theater, presumably after a performance judging by the massive bouquet of roses Patton had shoved excitedly into Roman’s arms. Roman was in costume, and from the looks of things was complimenting Talyn’s eyeshadow, which even in near grayscale Logan could tell was impressive.

Another shift, and this time it was just Patton, sitting alone in a rocking chair with a giant basket of different colored yarns at his feet and a list in his hand. He was writing Joan and Talyn’s names at the bottom of the list, and was about to put the piece of paper aside before something stopped him. He looked at the first name on the list, Logan scrawled in a handwriting so messy that it betrayed the youth of the person who had written it. Patton stared at the name for a moment, then sighed and picked up a pencil on the table beside him and quickly drew a line through the name, crossing it out. Quickly, as if he was trying to keep from changing his mind, he shoved the list back into the basket of yarn and picked out the first ball to begin setting his needle with.

Yet another shift, and it was Patton’s house, modest in comparison to Roman’s but filled with the same warmth and holiday cheer from the tiny apartment back from his first year of teaching. Everyone was wearing Patton’s creations, including Joan and Talyn who were sporting matching elf costume patterns on their sweaters. Roman lifted a glass, everyone toasted to the holiday, and towards the back of the crowd of people, Logan saw Virgil put a comforting arm around Patton’s shoulders.

Logan felt the hollowness in his chest grow again at the sight, the emptiness he’d tried so hard to ignore, but couldn’t escape no matter what he tried.

“Please,” he murmured, but the ghost either did not hear him or refused to stop.

Once again, the world shifted around them, and this time the edges were not as blurry as they had been and the sounds were not as muted, evidently this scene had something the ghost wanted him to see more than a few moments of.

Logan leaned forward to get a look, and his stomach twisted unpleasantly as he did. It was the hospital again, and there lying in the bed looking impossibly tiny, was Talyn. Joan stood close by, looking more worried than Logan had ever seen them and clutching Talyn’s hand. A nurse scribbled something on their chart, then turned to leave, and was nearly run over by Patton as he barrelled past.

“Where are they, are they alright?” he asked frantically, and Talyn laughed from their bed, coughing a little as they did so.

“I’m fine Patton...aaand everyone else, too,” they added their eyes growing wide as Thomas, Roman, and Virgil filed into the room behind Patton.

Roman was carrying an enormous teddy bear, Thomas a bouquet of flowers, and Virgil a brown paper bag.

“Thanks for coming, you guys,” Joan said. Their voice was quiet and strained, but a smile managed to worm its way onto their face at the sight of all their friends.

“Of course, Joan,” Thomas replied, placing the flowers down on the table beside Talyn’s bed. “We wouldn’t miss it.”

“Here,” Virgil added, holding out the bag to Joan. “I figured neither of you had eaten, so I brought you some cookies from the cafe.”

Joan reached into the bag, and Talyn leaned forward eagerly.

“Did you bring me a screamer?” they asked, trying to peer around Joan’s shoulder to see the contents of the bag.

Virgil chuckled as Joan pulled out two sugar cookies decorated with frosting to look like the head of the figure in Edvard Munch’s The Scream.

“Of course I did,” he said, as Talyn grinned and took one of the cookies.  

“I have no doubt that you shall conquer this beast!” Roman piped up from the corner where he was trying to get the teddy bear to sit up straight in one of the chairs...and failing spectacularly. “You’ll vanquish your foe and be right as rain in no time at all!”

“Thanks, Roman,” Talyn grinned, but was interrupted by another coughing fit. Frightened glances were exchanged around the room, but Talyn waved them off. “You all worry too much,” they said, forcing a pained smile. “It’s like Roman said, I’ll be right as rain in—” they coughed again, “—in no time.”

“Sorry, Talyn,” Virgil said with a light laugh. “Worrying is how we show affection.”

“If we’re worried about you, it means we care!” Patton piped up, a real smile blossoming across his face.

Logan’s chest tightened as once again he felt an empty hole gnawing it’s way up from his stomach and into his heart. He turned away, not wishing to see any more.

“You’ve made your point,” he said quietly to the ghost beside him, who hovered silently, regarding him with a strange expression. “What?” Logan demand, staring up at him. “What more could you possibly have to show me?”

The ghost sighed, a sound that encompassed both irritation and sympathy.

“It is not I who brought you here, Logan Sanders,” he said quietly. “It was you who brought me.”

“What do you—ah!” Logan yelped in surprise as Patton exited the hospital room by walking directly through him.

“—be right back!” he was saying. “I just have to use the bathroom.”

Logan watched him turn around in a confused circle for a moment, before he shrugged and headed towards the nurse’s station.

“Would help if I knew where it was,” he muttered to himself cheerfully. “Hi!” He said as he approached the woman behind the desk. “I was wondering if you—” 

He was cut off as suddenly the doors behind them burst open and a team of paramedics rushed by with someone on a stretcher. Patton and Logan gasped in unified horror as they both instantly recognized the body as it was rolled by, pale and unmoving.

“Logan?” Patton whispered, his hand flying over his mouth. He started hurrying after the stretcher, but the nurse behind the counter grabbed his arm.

“Let them work, honey,” she said in a firm but kind voice. “Don’t get in their way. If you like, I can send you an update on his condition later. Are you family?”

Patton shook his head, unable to speak.

“A friend then?”

He turned back to face her, his eyes wide and face blank, and then slowly shook his head again.

“No...no, not really. But we...that is, I—” he took a deep breath, then gave the woman a shaky smile. “I...I used to know him,” he said, before turning away to go back to the others.

Logan found himself face to face with his old friend, who looked so tired, so empty.

“Patton?” he asked as they locked eyes. But Patton passed through him again, unseeing, and Logan whirled around. “Patton!” he cried, but there was no response.

The scene began to fade from his vision as Patton made it back to Talyn’s room and wordlessly collapsed into a surprised Thomas’s arms, his shoulders shaking gently with sobs.

“Patton!” Logan was screaming now, reaching out trying in vain to grab hold of something, anything, to reach him, he had to reach him! 

“PATTON! PLEASE, PATTON, I’M HERE! I’M HERE PATTON, I’M OKAY, I’M SORRY!”

The scene was gone now, replaced with nothing but blackness but Logan didn’t stop, tears streaming down his face as he desperately yelled, his voice growing raw.

“PATTON YOU WERE RIGHT I’M SO SORRY, I WAS WRONG, PATTON, I’M SORRY, PLEASE, PATTON PLEASE!” 

Logan choked on his sobs as he collapsed to his knees, gasping for air as an outpouring of emotion was released. He cried, for five minutes or five hours, he couldn’t tell. He didn’t know anymore, didn’t know anything, not that anything mattered. There wasn’t anything left now, just his tears and the darkness. 

A moment later, or perhaps it was an eternity, he felt a hand on his shoulder, thin and bony but strong. Warm. Real.

“Now,” the Ghost of Christmas Future said, his voice soft and comforting, “you understand, Logan Sanders.”

Logan looked up, to see the ghost kneeling in front of him, one hand resting on his shoulder, the hood of his cape pushed back, letting Logan see his pale face more clearly. Without thinking, he threw himself into the figure’s arms, sobbing anew.

The spirit received him, wrapping Logan in his arms and gently stroking his hair as he murmured comfort into his ear.

“There now,” he said with a small smile. “That’s better. Rise now, Logan Sanders. The morning is coming.”

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#ts-storytime 2018 submissions #ts-storytime #sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction #logan sanders #roman sanders #virgil sanders #patton sanders #thomas sanders #ts fanfiction #ts fanfic #my writing #a sanders carol

[talesofealdancynedom]

Jupiter Minkmonk, in her fairy robes shortly after this story. When your children take a level in magic badass, you take a level in magical parenting badass.

Tale 8: Cetus, Jupiter, and Makatchthis (chapter 4. The Craft Supply Store 4/5 ) part 2. Stories of Fey

coarse language

Matcha had been on Tiberius gate for about a month. Palladis kept him on the gate, fed him, and played with him. Palladis took her task of controlling her brothers, the raven princes, seriously. She spent hundreds of years around humans and preferred their company; she knew the stakes. Palladia also remembered the last time a griminthrope was in the day veil. The day one of her brothers first devoured the flesh of men. Even if Matcha was presenting as a normal boy, the fact he was becoming a deadly beast was at the back of everyone’s minds. As for Palladis, she was one of the eldest royal fey, and she took the form of a small white girl with gold eyes and opal raven robes when approached by humans. Being admired as an iridescent white raven was a fun hobby for the younger princesses. Palladis had lived long enough to know that vanity means little, and is a childish pursuit. Matcha, having grown up a bit, was getting curious about the day veil. being stuck on the gate was like being stuck in the nest; stories were not enough satisfying his youthful mind. He had come to his senses now that he had put on some weight and plumage. He tried to fledge off the tower trellises but often fell on his face. Matcha wanted to fly, be with his brothers, and quench his deep hunger. And when there was nothing rotting on the gate, and Palladis could not bring him carrion, he lusted for the hunt. But Matcha had gotten attached to his new family. He was beginning to love humans as companions; thus, he had developed empathy for living things. Unlike other griminthropes, Matcha understood that the dead once lived. That he himself was half human. He would dare not hurt a human or fey, yet feared he would.

For a long weekend Morgan, Regina, and their friends were taken on a field trip to a fey convention. By their  professor, Hara Fyrstan, who was head of fey studies at their magic academy. They took a bus, and packed for up to three days away from home. Cetus and Jupiter began to sweat. Would Morgan sleep walk back such a distance? What if people found out Regina and Morgan were mages and try to persecute them? What if Matcha or another fey wreaked havoc on the village without Morgan’s guidance?

“Honey.” Cetus said tensely, glazed over as he stared at their precious children walk to the bus.

“yes dear” Jupitar responded. Her body clenched. The Ivory skinned, hazel eyed Franc in her was being tested. North Central people had a low bullshit tolerance, iron will’s, and true grit. which is what made her steady in the face of life’s trials. Jupiter and Cetus held hands as they watched their children walk off to catch the bus. They felt each other squeezing the circulation out of their forelimbs, mutually.

“Morgan needs new clothes. Something in this forest’s water is making him grow like a tree. In spite of his trouble eating….” Cetus quivered.

“I hate malls. He is at that age though,” Jupiter said in monotone. “Wait, he still has trouble eating? I thought we got him on anti-anxiety meds and therapy so he didn’t develop an eating disorder. You need to catch them young. After what His father did, he’s mentally unwell.” She grimaced.

“Oh, yeah. I mean he’s better than he was. Give the kid a break. Man I still can’t believe it,“ Cetus grumbled. “wait. Jupe, Where’s Matcha? Shouldn’t we be watching him?” he gasped.

“Damn it, Cetus. Let’s just take the bloody bird with us.”

“he looks more like a boy. He doesn’t birb very often… For someone so eager to be a birb”

“you mean bird? Which isn’t a verb...”

“he he, that rhymed.”

“I’ll get him” Jupiter sighed. She clicked the keys to make the car beep, which was audible from where they parked it just outside the gate. “I love you!” Cetus yelled walking to the car. “Love you too dear” Jupitar exclaimed back, fetching Matcha and her wallet.

Matcha was thrilled to leave the gate, he chattered the whole drive into town. Palladis tailed behind in flight. Raven children were as swift as any train or car.

“look ornaments! Can I eat one? I’m hungry!” Matcha said when they were in the mall. Cetus had strapped him into a shopping cart with winter twine. A type of thin yet sturdy magical rope. They ddidn’t want matcha running around, even with Palladis at their tail. However, the winter displays and decor were overwhelming and bewitching to the young griminthrope. Even Palladis had gotten distracted from watching her brother. Matcha snatched a ornament off a display as they carted by, and tried to eat the trinket, but then threw it up. He swallowed it whole like a pelican, and popped it right back out in perfect condition. He felt and looked very disappointed. Jupiter took and put it back on the next mall display while they kept walking. Cetus was busy looking for the next store, and without looking handed Matcha a toy. Jupiter had the grimace of someone who was reading internet memes; the distasteful kind. She was like that the entire time they were in mall. The sight was something to behold, the two of them were like veteran parents going to a mall with a toddler. But instead of a toddler it was an ominous black fey in a shopping cart. That was nearly the size of the shopping cart. A few people gave them scared looks, even here this was a bit odd. Cetus assured the staff that a wizard wasn’t necessary; they were just ‘babysitting for their nephew’. Which made even less sense. After over an hour picking out clothes and things they needed while they were there, Cetus and Jupiter found a table in the food court. they sat down with their orders looking exhausted.

“Suppose we should feed Matcha too eh? There is no shortage of trash around here, Jupiter.” Cetus said. Jupitar had gone space cadet eating tatter tots. Cetus rolled his eyes and turned to the shopping cart. It had three bags of clothes and a neatly wrapped cord of winter twine in it. “OH SHIT.” Cetus exclaimed. Jupiter perked up like new mother hearing a baby cry in the next room at 2am. She looked at the cart. She looked at Cetus. Jupiter cursed five times in francish, and grabbed the loot from their cart, her husband’s arm, and then walked out of that mall like a soldier into battle. She didn’t even finish the tater tots.

Cetus and Jupiter sat in the car for thirty minutes in silence brainstorming where Matcha would have gone. He was either in a dumpster behind the steak house or somewhere there is music and shiny things. Clubs were not open this time of day. It was noon. Cetus sighed and looked out the side window to see a large store by the professional building. “oh look, a Gabriel’s. Jupe, that place plays top 40 radio and has sparkly stuff everywhere. Matcha might be in there! I also need more yarn and stationery.” Cetus prompted. Jupiter rolled her eyes and they both exited the car. She should have never of joined that couples knitting group.

Matcha had never been somewhere so wonderful in his life. It almost reminded him of the nest. The music, the beads, the glitter, charms, thread, fake flora, bird houses, and gift wrap. It smelled of cloves, plastic, dust and popery. The lights shone brightly like flickering stadium lights, yet it still felt dark. The soft soulless catchy music played in a soft and tinny voice filling every crevice of the open, sparsely populated, glorified warehouse. Matcha had stars in his eyes, and he grabbed a basket like the other customers. He B-lined to the jeweler section and began tossing things in his basket. He began singing the songs on the PA perfectly, and had starting dancing to make every instruments sound. He was a one-man band. Matcha had also 152 dollars of merchandise ripped open and strung together into friendship bracelets. Matcha had decided to sit cross legged and bead like his father on the top of the cake decorating isle. He was on high profile mission of friendship bracelets.

“customers please stay calm. A wizard has been called, and will arrive shortly. Thank you for shopping at Gabriel’s.” an announcement said. This is when Jupiter and Cetus walked into the store. Cetus excused himself to the yarn section. Jupiter saw and heard Matcha a mile away and walked over to the isle he was perched in. She saw an employee and a wizard looking at the top of isle ten. Matcha was like a child that had eaten too many five cent candies. Jupiter looked both ways down the isle, and then walked forward and looked directly into the wizard’s eyes. Her gaze nearly defenestrating his soul from them.

“a North Central lady. Perfect. Last thing we need is a damn franc. Do we have improper posture? Or are you here to mock us well we deal with this…whatever it is…” The wizard said. Jupiter had been made fun of for her ethnic background since she moved to the grand West. It had made her strong. Jupiter punched the wizard before pulling him into a knee to the groin and tossing him aside like laundry. He lay on the floor whimpering. Jupiter then put one heel into his shoulder and the employee slowly walked backward out of the isle. She was not payed enough for this.

“get down here right now, young man.” Jupiter said with an intense thunder in her voice. Matcha froze cold and looked down at Jupiter’s unblinking stare. He wasn’t sure what he had done wrong. Matcha looked at his half-completed work and then stuffed it into a pouch on his side. Matcha held up a charm bracelet.

“look Jupiter! I made a shiny for you! I’m super crafty now! Just like dad!” Matcha Exclaimed. He was so genuinely proud of himself. He flew down and Jupiter grabbed Matcha by the hand, and escorted him to the till to meet her husband. Cetus payed for his yarn at the till, and apologize for the griminthrope. Jupiter stood behind him holding Matcha to prevent him from wondering off.

“sorry about that, were not trained in magic. Just have to watch him for the weekend. We can pay for the damages.” Cetus said. The manager stared silently in fear behind Cetus, at Matcha, well scanning the wool. Macha began to impatiently wiggle and hum.

“So, you’re taking that thing away then? And it’s not coming back?” The manager asked handing over the card reader.

“nope. Staying with us. Can’t apologize enough…Hope he didn’t scare off any business.”

“in that case, you don’t have to pay us for damages. we’ll pay you in place of the wizard, who is still indisposed by the frosting nozzles. Do you want a beading kit for the road? You know… so that thing is satisfied and DEFINITELY does not come back to my store?”

“thank you kindly. I think that is an excellent idea ma’am.” Cetus smiled charmingly.

With craft supplies in had Jupiter dragged Matcha into the backseat of the car and strapped him in. Cetus, about to get behind the wheel, noticed Palladis was on the car hood.

“YOU” Cetus growled.

“don’t tell my dad. We just went past that chandelier and I just… so sparkly…” Palladis said. Jupiter and Cetus both gave Palladis a nasty glare as they entered the car, slamming their doors. Cetus then started the car and turned on the windshield wipers. Palladis slid off the hood, her pleas barely audible through the glass. When Palladis got up and flew away to follow them home, Cetus began to drive. Jupiter looked into the art supply bag from the passenger’s side seat; “That colour? Sweety, we’ve talked out this. “

NEXT--->

<---PREVIOUS

#art #tales of ealdan cynedom #short stories #story eight #Cetus Jupiter and Macatchthis #cetus #palladis #matcha #jupiter #fantasy

[magiimaginationdestination]

Beauty and the Beast (II)

(Kouen x Fem! Reader)

Summary: Jamil is a nuisance and your father has a new invention.

~~~~~~~~

Jamil smirked as he stared at you with your nose stuffed in a book. You were the only woman in town that could ever match his beautiful looks, the best of the best and as he told Budel, he deserves the best.

Jamil sighed blissfully and wrapped an arm around Budel’s shoulder, right from the moment when I meant her, saw her, I fell for her. For she is the only girl in town that’s as beautiful as me,” he said as he gazed at himself on a store window. 

From inside the store, one could see the various woman getting fitted for gowns, hats, shoes, and other accessories. In the store at the moment was Brigit, Fatima, and Dunya. All squealed at the sight of him.

“Look there he goes!” Exclaimed Brigit. As she pointed at him through the window. 

“Isn’t he dreamy?” Sighed Fatima as he looked at Jamil from afar. It seemed that even some men were attracted to him as well. He immediately went to fix his silver hair as Jamil looked his way. 

Dunya placed a hand on her chest, “be still. My heart.” Her heart felt as if it was going 1000 miles a minute as she so much as looked at him. They all swooned as Jamil made his way throughout the town. 

“Oh, he’s so cute!” They all said in unison. Jamil seemed to be the only thing they had in common as they always tuned in to be his cheerleaders. 

“He such a tall, dark, strong, and handsome brute!” They said as they all collapsed on top of each other when Jamil sent them a charming smile and walked off. Budel rolled his eyes at the clueless girls and followed after Jamil to help him win you. 

Jamil scanned the town for you when he found walking away with your head in the book, he grabbed a random bouquet of flowers to make his way over to you and propose.

Jamil ended up getting sidetracked most of the way on account to all the townsfolk in the way. He squeezed through most of them to try and get to you before you got home, “please let me through!” He yelled as he got passed all the townsfolk buying produce and greeting other people.

“You call this baking?”

You sighed as you kept your attention on the book, not paying attention to all the normal gibberish you hear every day. 

“What lovely grapes!”

“How long is that yarn!” 

Your attention was gripped by the book and you soon felt yourself wanting something like the adventures in the books as all of the same phrases you heard every morning were repeated. You ripped your attention away, among all the rowdy clutter you said, “there must be more than this provincial life!” 

Jamil smirked as he quickly got through, “just watch I’m going to make Y/N my wife!” He declared. As they heard your name the townsfolk soon began to say their gossip once more. 

“Look there she goes, that girl is strange!”

“A most peculiar mademoiselle!”

You rolled your eyes and made your way down the dirt road back to your home with your father waiting for you. He was the inventor that most thought was odd, not to mention he used to be the main event in gossip but it was soon switched over to you when you began to read.

Jamil sighed as he realized the town wasn’t going to move, he gripped the top of the roof and proceeded to climb on top of them with Budel trailing behind him on the ground.

“It’s a pity and a sin.”

“That she doesn’t quite fit in.”

“She really is a beauty but a funny girl that Y/N!”

You rose a brow and looked back only to see the people go about their day, you soon shrugged and continued with your walk with your eyes back in the book. 

You heard a thump in front of you and didn’t look up as your full attention was on the book. You were just getting to the good part, you knew what happened after reading a few times but each time was more exciting than the last.

“Good morning, Y/N!”

You peeled your eyes away to greet the person but all you saw was a bouquet in your face. You moved it aside to see Jamil with a grin on his face, it started out with a bit of silence but then he spoke up, “wonderful book you have there!” He said smoothly.

You rose a brow, curious, “have you read it?” You asked, having never seen him read before. 

Jamil said nothing and grabbed it from your hands, he stared at it with a perplexed expression, “well not this one, but... Others...” He said hesitantly. You slowly nodded, not believing him in the slightest. 

Jamil disregarded the book and threw it behind him, making it fall in the mud. You gasped and grabbed it, wiping off the mud with your white apron before it stained. 

“Y/N, it’s about time you get your head out of those books and pay attention to more important things- “ he flashed a smile- “like me.” His look turned sympathetic, “the whole town is talking about this. They say it’s not right for a woman to read, she starts getting ideas and thinking.”

You rolled your eyes and put the book in your basket to avoid further damage to it. Your father didn’t think like that, he was your only friend in this town. Sounds a little sad but if one met the people in this town it would be understandable. 

You rolled your eyes, “Jamil you are positively primeval,” you said, chuckling while wiping down your book. 

He smirked, “why thank you,” he said as he glowed under your supposed praise. It wasn’t praise but he didn’t have to know. 

He then brought up the flowers, “for your dinner table. Shall I join you this evening?” He asked with a confident demeanor.

You shook your head, “no...” You said slowly, trying to hide your feelings on the standpoint. If he came it would be a disaster and a horrid one. 

“Busy...?” He asked, unsure of himself. You shook your head again and at this point, Budel came jogging up to you two, most likely to help Jamil. 

The three girls followed Jamil around looked at you in disbelief. “What’s wrong with her?” Asked Fatima, pointing at you.

Brigit clenched her fists, “she’s crazy!” She exclaimed, if she could have just one minute with him she would faint.

Dunya sighed dreamily, “he’s gorgeous!” She squealed as he looked at him with you.

“I have to help my father with something.” It wasn’t a lie as he always asked for your help on new inventions or small paintings he did on the side. 

Budel started to crack up as you mentioned your father, “that crazy old loon?! He needs all the help he can get!” He said causing Jamil to crack up with him. 

Your fists clenched, “don’t talk about my father that way!” You yelled. You can deal with people talking about you but you always got defensive when ti came to your father. 

Jamil frowned and turned to Budel, “yeah! Don’t talk about her father that way!” He said to Budel, knocking his fist on the top of his head. Budel groaned and almost passed out due to force. 

“My father is not crazy! He’s a genius!” With that said you made your way back home, leaving Jamil and Budel to laugh amongst themselves. 

You rested a hand on the wooden railing on the steps of your house. Hearing soft music come from the attic, you stopped. He must have been working on that music box as of now. 

A small smile graced your features and you walked down to the attic where your father normally worked on his inventions. You quietly opened the wooden doors and were immediately met with paintings, canvases, nut, bolts, and all other assortments. 

You looked to see a familiar purple head sitting at a desk while gazing at a small windmill playing a soft lullaby. You smiled and remembered he was planning on taking it to the county fair soon. 

Your father smiled as he looked at the inside of the windmill which held a ceramic woman wearing a red dress while holding a baby with e/c eyes and h/c hair with a purple haired man painting the both of them. 

How does a moment last forever

How can a story never die

It is love we must hold onto

Never easy, but we try

Sinbad looked back at the painting that showed your mother and you as a baby. He smiled and turned back to the windmill which showcased their old home in Paris. 

Sometimes our happiness is captured

Somehow our time and place stand still

Love lives on inside our hearts

And always will

Sinbad closed up the windmill and glanced up to see you there, “oh, there you are. How was town today?” He asked as he put on his glasses to get a better look at the gears, he reached for a tool but didn’t get it as you chuckled and handed it to him. 

He smiled up at you and his gaze went back to the gears. You then sighed, remembering his question, “same as always. People gossiping about and the same normal morning as always.” You reached into your basket and pulled out your book, “I did get a new book though!” You said, excited.

Sinbad pressed a kiss to your head, “that’s good but something seems to be on your mind, what is it?” He asked, squinting his eyes as some screws seemed out of place. 

“Jamil... He asked me to join us for dinner! Can you believe that?!” 

Sinbad knew better than to interrupt you when you were going on a rant. “I mean one could only guess what goes through his mind when he wants a woman to marry. He even had the nerve to laugh at you!” You exasperated, you fell onto a chair, “honestly, papa, this town isn’t for me... I don’t fit in here... Do you think I’m odd?” You asked referring to what all the villagers say.

Sinbad scoffed, “the only people that are odd are the small-minded townsfolk here! They gossip because they don’t have anything else going on that’s interesting in their lives!” He declared while putting his handmade tool down and turning to you. 

He grabbed your hands, “even in Paris I knew of a woman that was like you, ahead of her time. People mocked her but soon found themselves imitating her,” he said as he was referring to your mother who was just like you in the sense that she was stubborn and strong-willed.

Your grip tightened on your father's rough hands, “please just tell me one more thing about her,” you persisted as you never remembered much about her on account that she died early in your childhood.

Sinbad sighed and let go of your hands, he began tweaking around with the gears again. “You mother was... Fearless...” He said as he screwed something in, locking a gear in place. 

Sinbad closed up the windmill as it was finally ready. You smiled and wrapped your arms around your only family left, “I love you.”

Sinbad rested a hand on your head and one around your waist, “I love you too.”