#i suspect the answer is once again 'you are thinking too hard about a magic system that muir has gone to great pains to avoid describing in

[nonasbirthday]

I still don't understand why Crux had to die for the tomb to be opened at the end of NTN. Wasn't the tomb already open? How could it have re-set to need John's blood again?

It sounds like Paul was somehow able to get some of Kiriona's blood despite her impenetrable skin ("Take all of it." "I don't need all of it - but I need to keep it wet..."). And that maybe they only needed "fresh thanergy" because Kiriona (and presumably her blood) is dead. Because Harrow didn't need to kill anybody the first time she went in, right?

But in HTN it's implied that Harrow entered the tomb multiple times and that it took her a while to dismantle the traps in each section. And she presumably didn't have Gideon's blood under her nails every time she went in (hard to say for sure, since the memory recounted to us has been edited to be Certified Griddle-Free). (And anyways, doesn't Pyrrha say in HTN that fresh blood is thalergenic, not thanergenic? So why would Gideon's blood being fresh meet the thanergy requirement?)

So I don't understand why the tomb wasn't just open for our little rescue crew to bust in, and if it had been re-locked, why Crux dying unlocked it. (Or how they got Gideon's blood, really, but for that one I'm willing to just accept the magic of "it happened offscreen.")

#i suspect the answer is once again 'you are thinking too hard about a magic system that muir has gone to great pains to avoid describing in #detail. also muir needed kiriona to do something shocking to demonstrate how she is not the same gideon #and also to give kiriona all of gideon's wishes fulfilled and still leave her empty' #but you know. #WHOMST is re-locking the tomb. is it anastasia's ghost #the locked tomb #nona the ninth spoilers #nonasbirthday

[ibbythebee]

Anything

pairing: Fred Weasley x Prefect!Reader

summary: Fred would do anything to see you, 'Hogwart's strictest Prefect', loosen up.

genre: fluff 'n stuff, and only slight angst, also borderline slowburn

warnings: swearing, bullying moments, implied that reader is in Slytherin, lots of teasing, flirting, kissing, Fred is completely and utterly whipped for reader, "your highness" nickname

a/n: not me in the middle of writing a neville fic and then having a shower thought of a fred x reader and writing this instead.

words: 6.9k

masterlist

»»————-　⌁　————-««

You can hear them. And you know it's them, because of the sniggering and that laugh.

By now, when you patrolled outside of class hours you'd find yourself actively seeking out these boys. Today happens to be good day to continue your spotless Prefect record.

With a hand sliding to your hip, you smoothly round the corner of the door to your Potions classroom and as you suspected, Fred and George Weasley are there, huddled over a particular cauldron. Something's clearly already been brewed and Fred is holding a cork screwed flask with the mysterious liquid.

It takes a minute until Fred happens to glance toward the door and sees you there, nose in the air and hands now clasped in front of you. He's trying not to laugh when he sees you, and elbows his brother.

The said Weasley is about to say something, but as he meets your gaze his lips press together in a slightly curved line.

Successful in catching their attention, one eyebrow and then one corner of your lips gently raise. "We've really got to stop bumping into each other like this."

"I think you wanted to bump into us," Fred says with a prominent smile. He looks innocent, just like always.

You neither confirm nor deny his remark and instead stride closer to them. You take your time, head turning in each direction, eyes scanning for any other suspicious looking activity. It feels good, because you can feel their stares and how they wait with bated breaths for your next move.

With a last step you settle on the opposite side of their table. You look at Fred, head tilted softly, studying his expression.

His smile only grows when you reach his eyes and it's finally time to address the elephant in the room.

In a newly straightened posture you say in a slow and sarcastic tone, "did you know... that I can take away points from your House? From each of you, in fact?"

"Oh, come on. Our favourite Prefect. Can't you pretend you never saw us, like last time?" George answers.

"Sorry what was that? You'd like 30 points taken away?"

"Hey, hey, hey!" Fred waves with a chuckle, "let's not get hasty. What about... a-a compromise?"

George nods desperately.

Your eyebrow raises again, and you lean back, crossing your arms. "A compromise, instead of taking away your precious points?"

"Yes, we'll do anything."

"Anything?"

"Anything." Fred glides a tongue over his bottom lip, speaking to you through his eyes.

For once he looks completely serious and it makes you smile in delight. An expression seldom found in your features. It's completely magical and Fred finds no regret to bargaining with you.

"There is something you can do for me," your eyes glaze over Fred's face and then you turn to George, leaning forward over the table on your elbows. "The next Quidditch Game."

"Yeah? Slytherin v Gryffindor. Need us to bug someone?" George grins.

You shake your head and smile again. You're frighteningly beautiful with that curve on your face as you continue. "I need you to make sure that Slytherin wins."

"What?"

Fred captures your attention, so you lean in closer to his side of the desk. "It shouldn't be too hard for you both, right?"

He squints, unable to hold back a smile of his own. In the previous times when you had caught the twins in the middle of scheming, you'd never been so coy with them. Ruffling your feathers a bit was always the boys' goal when getting caught by you, however now that you seem to be playing along, Fred can't get enough. "That's hardly something to wish for, your highness. You can have anything from us, really anything. Don't hold back."

You shrug, "well, that's what I choose."

"But if you think about it you cou—"

"I can take the points off now, if you like? It's really no problem."

"Fine. W-We'll do it." George huffs, and his brother follows with a playful bow.

"Your wish is our command."

"Please just don't take the points off. We'll be kicked out of Gryffindor if you snitch again."

"Me? Snitch?" Your voice drips in sarcastic innocence, and you push yourself off of the desk. Your feet turn to walk back outside first, but your eyes remain on Fred until it's physically impossible to stay focused on him. As you saunter to the door, you feel their gazes on you again and it's oh so satisfying to know that you get the last say. "You need to get better at not getting caught. Because, if I didn't know any better, it looks more like you want me to bump into you."

You turn around to face them again, and stare at the flask in between Fred's long fingers. By some miracle you'd never found yourself to be the butt of their schemes, unlike the other prefects. Even as a chaser of the twins' opposition in Quidditch, you've been the only lucky soul on your team to come out the other end. The question was why? Why spare you?

"Who in Salazar's name threw that?" Your captain shrieks, massaging the back of his head, small flakes of snow dropping to the skin of his neck.

How bothersome, you think, looking around at the rest of your teammates who're busy cooling down after Quidditch training.

"What?! A snowball just happens to gain sentience and hit me, huh? An owl maybe? Just come forward, admit you did it and I'll go easy on you—"

The spray of snow flies off of the captain's head again and you dodge the icy substance in time, some of it landing on your beater and chaser teammate. Everyone exclaims except you, you're too busy scanning over the field.

Suddenly, the burly boy of a captain huffs toward you, and you take a shove to the shoulder.

Stumbling back by a metre, you frown. Increasingly annoyed by your captain's baseless judgements. "What the hell is wrong with you? How many times do I have to tell you I'm a prefect?"

"I know a guilty person when I see one."

You're about to give him a piece of your mind until the idiot is hit again and you stifle a laugh at the noise he makes.

"Clever," he says through gritted teeth. Despite clearly looking at you just seconds before the snowball made contact with his thick skull, his pride is still hell-bent on accusing you. "I knew you were good at school, but I didn't think you'd stoop so low to use non-verball spells for something so stupid."

"Well, I knew you were delusional before, but now it's perfectly clear that you just don't have a brain."

As though your words were a signal, a tsunami of white ice balls appear in the sky and you don't hold back your smile as it pauses over your team. They each look up, faces with panicked expressions, and before they can even begin to escape, the snow crashes down over your peers. Figuring, it's the perfect moment to leave, you zoom out of the field on your broom and land to your feet once you can't see those angry faces anymore.

And that's when you hear him. That laugh, and he's looking at you and combing a hand through his ginger hair, all whilst adorning a satisfied ear-to-ear grin.

"Thanks." Is all you can say at first, then you realise his partner-in-crime George isn't right by his side. "Where's your brother?"

"On the other end of the field."

You nod. When you don't say anything more and turn to leave, you feel long fingers wrap around your wrist. He's warm against your icy skin, and your eyes shoot up, only to be greeted by a soft smirk.

"You're not going to snitch on us are you, your highness?"

"Me? Snitch?" You stop yourself from feeling so giddy about the previous event and instead focus on the fact that would you be doing your prefectoral duties correctly, you would have absolutely told a Professor about the twins. But the adrenaline rush feels too great and so you finally shake your head at the tall ginger. "You were just... watching us practice, right? I don't see anything suspicious about that."

His smirk twists into a genuine smile, and he allows your wrist to slide out of his grasp. A twinkle of mischievousness reaches your eyes, and then you're off, jogging into the distance. A few metres in, you take a chance to glance back to where you left Fred. And you don't know whether it was from training or the adrenaline, but you feel your neck and cheeks flare with heat at the sight of him lean against the frame of the entrance, steadily watching you run.

Clearing your throat, you push your recollection of the past away and take out your wand.

“You know you’re not allowed to use spells outside of class, your highness,” says Fred, his voice playful.

“That’s okay,” you shrug, “because I know you won’t tell on me.”

“Are you quite sure about that?” George chimes.

You nod immediately, the easiest question to answer. “I’m your favourite prefect, am I not?”

Fred’s expression is unreadable to you at first as he shakes his head slowly. He looks shocked, but at the same time pleased and a hint of something else that you can’t quite grasp.

Figuring you’ve stared at him long enough you send the twins’ a wink and the door shuts with a swipe of your wand.

»»————-　⌁　————-««

Your robe is floating behind you, a spitting image of Professor Snape, as you walk with purpose to your class, books cradled in your arms and head held high. You round a corner of the halls smoothly and find yourself at your Potions classroom. It's been a week since finding the Weasleys in there, and you still haven't found out what concoction they had created.

In any case, your class has already begun, and Snape's voice is barely audible with the door in front of you. You let your fingers clench around your books for a moment, taking in a breath. Then you push your way in, and each one of your classmates turn their attention to you.

"How lovely of you to join us, Miss L/N."

Having already predicted the Professor's sarcasm-filled reaction to your tardiness, you hand out a small slip of paper. "A note from Professor McGonagall."

He barely skims over the words and indicates for you to find a seat. Fingers clenching around your books again, you let yourself look over your peers. There's a seat next to Ginger Jorkins from Hufflepuff, but after noticing your stare she's quick to put her belongings where you could have sat. You hold off from sighing, because to your relief there is one more free seat, all the way at the back of the room. Right beside the vacant spot is a familiar head of red hair, and the pain from your tight grip subsides upon seeing him. That sigh you've been holding lets free once you sit down and the class continues.

"Welcome to the back of the class," Fred whispers with his signature grin. "You're with the cool kids now."

"Speaking of..." You glance behind him and frown. "Where's your brother?"

He makes a face. "What do you mean?"

"I mean..." And then it hits you. The Slytherin versus Gryffindor Quidditch Game. The compromise. The "make-sure-that-Slytherin-wins" game. The "George-has-been-completely-annihilated-by-a-bludger" and "won't-be-walking-around-anytime-soon" game.

"Oh... right."

Fred simply nods, finding the way you froze for a moment to be equally funny and endearing. The rest of your face doesn't show it, but he notices the panic in your pretty eyes and gives your arm a little nudge. "Hey. The git's okay. Says it was worth the pain because the girl he fancies paid him a visit."

You bite your lip and let yourself focus on Snape, who's mouth is moving, but you can't hear anything coming out. "It's still technically my fault. He looked awful."

Fred leans forward, his head turning to rest against his crossed arms. He studies your features as you attempt to listen into the class. When he speaks, his voice is a whisper again. "Come to Hogsmeade with me."

You give him a side glance. No one's ever invited you to come before and for all you know he could be making fun of you. It'd been hard in the beginning, though you eventually found comfort being in your own presence; drinking butterbeer while other people joked and laughed and shared stories and the gossip of the week. And talked about how they received a pointless detention after being told off from that know-it-all bitch.

"I-I don't..." You stumble upon your words, the crease between your brows growing deeper as you try to recollect your thoughts.

"Yeah, you're coming," he declares. And when you go to protest, he sits back up, sending you a wink.

"AND so..." Snape glares in your direction, "by the end of this class, I will be testing the quality of your potions by using a simple leaf. If it melts you've brewed successfully, and if not... you'll be in here on the weekend till you get it right."

To your surprise, Fred doesn't make a fuss, instead he beams at you with a clap of his hands. "Let's get started then, shall we Professor?"

The said man only grunts in response, so you all begin.

Forty minutes passes by in an instant, and no matter how well you follow the recipe, the liquid in your cauldron doesn't look like a liquid anymore and it smells differently to Fred's.

Wait. Fred's?

You frown down into his cauldron. His potion's immaculate.

You pull at the sleeve of his robe till his head comes down and his long hair tickles the tip of your nose. "How are you doing this?"

"I'm smart when I want to be," he chuckles.

"That's not an answer. I demand you give me an answer, or... I will take off points from Gryffindor."

He feigns an expression of shock which immediately gives way to a smirk, face just a few inches away from yours. "And what if I do tell you? You promise not to snitch?"

"Me? Snitch?"

That mischievousness is back into your dolomitic eyes, and Fred swears that the potion isn't required to melt the leaf.

"How about a compromise?" you whisper.

He shoots a glance toward the Professor and then hums when he feels it's all clear to keep talking. "I'm listening."

"I come with you to Hogsmeade, and I promise to do whatever you want to do. Deal?"

He doesn't need a moment, or even a second to reply. He's already nodding, slipping a hand into yours. "Deal."

You share a knowing look and shake your intwined hands. Compromise confirmed. "Now—"

Before you get to finish, he pulls out a very familiar cork-screwed flask, and in perfect fashion you keep from gasping or reacting at all, but Fred can see it in your eyes. He scans over the classroom, Snape's busy writing something on the board, and so he's clear to lower his head to you.

Your fingers graze as he passes you the concoction he had made with his brother. Electricity runs through the veins of your fingers till it hits your heart, skipping a beat.

"Someone might've tipped us off about this assignment," Fred murmurs. "So, naturally, we just wanted to be prepared. There was no way we were going to miss out on a Hogsmeade visit."

Not with George in the Hospital Wing, you think to yourself with guilt, pulling your robe sleeve down to hide the flask should your Professor stop by.

"Well... my beloved brother sadly will. I'll never forget his bravery." Fred makes a show out of a simple sigh and you feel like slapping his arm. He places his hand over his chest and sighs again, only it's a little louder this time and longer. "A girl we know threatened us to rig the Quidditch game so that Slytherin would win, if we didn't do as she asked she would've gotten us into trouble—"

"Fred." Images of the poor Weasley twin with a whole half of his body covered in the sickening colour of a bruise flood your brain.

"—and being the good man that he is, Georgie sacrificed himself, in order to satisfy the needs of this girl."

"Oi! I already feel horrible, okay?" You finally give his arm that well-earned smack, and when all he does is laugh, you huff with a pout.

He recollects himself, and makes sure Snape's still preoccupied. He bends down to your level again, and his breath fans over the strands of hair by your ear. "I would do the same for this girl."

There's that heat in your neck again and yet another electric feeling runs up your spine at his worlds. You don't meet his gaze and instead stare forward. To save yourself from embarrassment, you lift your chin and with one swift movement, the liquid from the flask falls into your cauldron.

Fred watches in delight as you stir until your previously horrible creation morphs and dissolves into that flawless fluid that you had just seen in the Weasley's cauldron. From such a result, you're unable to stop yourself as your lips curl into a smile, parting slowly to reveal your teeth.

You are the embodiment of this potion. Any person or creature of the magical world would completely disarm at the sight of your expression. And Fred's lucky enough to be your first victim.

"You seem very pleased, Miss L/N."

The black figure of Snape shadows yours and Fred's vision as he glides in front of your desk. He peers into your cauldron, nothing shows on his face and then he's examining Fred's, the same reaction of nothing.

The man then clicks his tongue and floats back to the front of the classroom, picking two leaves off of the plant on his desk. He returns swiftly, gesturing the rest of the class to join him by your table.

"Look closely." Snape says as his hand hovers over your creation, and then his fingers let go of the green object.

Hushed breaths watch as it hits the surface of the liquid with a ripple. There's no reaction at first and it fills you with dread. You even see Fred stiffen in the corner of your sight.

Then the leaf twitches with a change in colour, and soon it's no where to be seen, dissolved. Successful.

Someone mutters a 'wow', others share glances of contempt or roll their eyes. You on the other hand feel relieved and lean onto your hip, arm brushing against the tall boy beside you. He relaxes at your gentle touch.

"It seems you will have the fortune of freedom this weekend." Professor Snape mutters, and then with no time to waste, moves on to Fred. You barely have a chance to thank the man. His hand hovers, fingers open and a new leaf falls.

In a blink, the leaf has melted and you feel the Weasley straighten up in pride.

Snape however, isn't convinced and folds his arms. "How convenient that you should produce a successful potion - out of many failures - when seated beside Miss L/N."

Innocent until proven guilty, you think and look up at Fred, who's only smiling like a fool, his focused trained on Snape's. Your classmates murmur, and it isn't hard to place who they're talking about with their not-so subtle glares pointed in your direction.

"So I did a good job?" The boy's happy expression grows with innocence.

"Somehow. Five points... to each of you." The raven-haired man admits, his gaze lingers on the Weasley before he turns away, addressing you both and the rest of the class. "L/N and Weasley, seeing as you have completed the task, you may be dismissed. However, by next class I expect a 2,000 word written report of your method and findings. That'll be all. The rest of you... you have fifteen minutes."

Groans and curses hidden under breaths echo through the room, you and Fred, however, turn to each other with eyebrows raised and stupid grins plastered over your faces.

Adrenaline kicks in, and you both scramble to clear up the desk and snatch up your belongings. You sprint out the door not after sending the Professor a 'thank you', and then you're out the door and sprinting into the courtyard, crisp winter air nipping at your extremities.

You pause by the fountain, leaning against the tall structure and Fred follows suit, situating himself in front of you. "I can't believe I did that," you say in a breathless tone still grinning, books hugging into your chest.

He chuckles in between his own pants of breath. "Feels good doesn't it, your highness?"

"I hate to admit but... yes."

You watch as his gaze on you softens, as well as his grin subduing into contentment. "You make a good partner-in-crime. I think I might just replace George."

"Then he will surely kill me once he's recovered! That is... if he doesn't already."

Fred winks, "I'll make sure that won't happen. A princess such as yourself deserves a knight-in-shining armour."

"Oh yes." You give a curtsy and wave of your hand, your voice forming a posh accent. Well, no more posh than you already sound. "Then will you do the honour of escorting me to Hogsmeade tomorrow?"

With a fist to his chest, Fred bows. "For you, my dear, anything."

»»————-　⌁　————-««

It's irregular of you to be so fashionably late. Last night you'd found yourself restless, thoughts of sleep hidden behind scenes of you and Fred eating candy together, laughing, using magic outside of class to throw snowballs at your Quidditch Captain. Despite the chill of a winter night, being covered by your duvet and blankets was suffocatingly warm, especially when you kept seeing Fred pull you behind a tree, gloved hands drawing you into him by your hips, noses barely touching and lips parted with warm butterbeered breaths.

Your chocolate-brown screech owl whinnies by the foot of your bed and you flinch, adjusting your beanie for the hundredth time. "What do you think, Prim? Do I look tired? I look tired, don't I?"

The owl blinks and gives another whinny, a sound similar to that of a miniature pony. You check the clock on the wall of your dormitory and bite your lip, jostling through your belongings and retrieving a small purse of galleons to shove into your coat pocket.

One more look in the mirror, just one more. Your hair looks surprising lovely, strands of it squished against your thick scarf, and fortunately covering areas of your blemished face that couldn't be covered enough by your concealer. "It'll have to do!"

Prim purrs when you stroke her head and then you're off. You almost trip at the bottom of the stairs and as a result you pause, taking in a breath, calming the pounding in your chest. This Hogsmeade visit is just like any other. Just like any other. You’re just… not alone this time. That’s enough to get you smiling, as you saunter through the halls and finally out the gates, where you see a few groups of students still hanging around Hogwarts.

At the top of the steps you crane your neck in an attempts to find Fred amongst the small groups.

“I was beginning to think you stood me up.”

You spin on your heels at the sound of his voice, and are greeted with a growing grin. Teeth sparkling and everything. It takes a toll on you not to tackle him in a hug right then and there. The thick hoody he’s adorning, as well as the adorable beanie all look extra cuddly. Those gloved hands that you’ve been thinking about slide out of the pockets of his jeans and reach for your scarf, gently tightening the fabric around your face and neck.

On the outside you seem unbothered by his action, but he already sees what you’re really feeling through those dolomitic eyes of yours. “A deal’s a deal,” you finally say. “But it was rude of me to keep you waiting so long, so I’ll buy you a butterbeer.”

He shakes his head, fiddling with the hem of the scarf. “You turning up is enough for me.”

You shake your head back, dipping your chin into the material to hide your smile. “I’m buying you one. Argument over.”

“Alright then.” He chuckles and gives your scarf a gentle tug. “No more time to waste, your highness, let’s go.”

“Lead the way, Sir Weasley.”

You’re perfectly giddy as you trudge your way to the little village. Fred tells you about his plans for Christmas and you tell him yours, not very big and not very exciting, but he adores listening to you speak. He tells you about George and his recovery, and teases you when he sees guilt written over your face. Then despite your many differences, you both bond over your love for Quidditch, especially the Irish team. Occasionally, your shoulders and arms graze, and other times your fingers, as you stomp through the snow covered grounds. With every touch your chest grows warm, and your belly flips. You almost forget that you should be looking out for any bad behaviour. You almost forget that you still have a duty to uphold to the school.

Hogsmeade is bustling with life when you finally arrive. More so now that you could share it with someone.

“Come on, let’s warm up first.” Fred tugs your scarf again and successfully gains your full attention. He pulls you into the Three Broomsticks, greeted immediately by a wave of warmth. He’s still pulling on your scarf so you swiftly ask for two hot butterbeers and allow him to lead you to a table at the far end of the room.

“Am I your pet? Leading me around like that.” You sit down opposite him, motioning to his hand still holding onto the end of the long material.

He hums for a moment, and doesn't look to have any intention of letting go. “More like restraining you from going into ‘prefect’ mode.”

"Hey! Some people need disciplining," you pout.

"You sound like a Professor..." he narrows his eyes at you, lacking the skills to stop smiling so big. "You're not Professor Snape using Polyjuice potion, are you? Trying to figure out my secrets for passing your class, huh?"

Slowly, meticulously you straighten your back and fold your hands over the table, and void any emotion on your face. Your voice is low and slow and articulating every syllable as you speak. "What a ri-di-cu-lous suggestion. However... while we are on the topic, you didn't... copy off me, did you?"

Fred is so bad at suppressing his smirk. "Bloody Norah, you found me out! You're so smart, Profess— I mean... your highness."

The clink of glass hitting your table interrupts yours and Fred's thoughts. Madam Rosmerta's standing over you and when you meet her gaze she winks. "Good to see you with company this time around, Y/N."

Your face squishes into the fabric that Fred's still holding onto as you feel heat rise in your cheeks. Desperate to eliminate the fact that she basically just called you a loner in front of him, you fish into your pocket and pull out some coins, placing them onto the woman's open palm. "Thank you, Madam Rosmerta."

"Pleasure, dears. Enjoy.” Another wink is sent your way and she’s off to tend the rest of her pub.

As you bring the hot beverage to your mouth, you peek through your eyelashes. Fred has removed one glove and is now using that bare hand hold onto his drink, allowing the warmth to transfer into his already warm skin.

"Thank you," he says.

Your brows press together, "what for?"

"For paying."

"Well... thank you too."

He raises an eyebrow as he takes a good sip of the butterbeer, waiting for you to elaborate.

"For inviting me," you say shyly, fingers sliding across the surface of the mug.

"Awh, that's nothing," he chuckles, gently swaying your scarf.

"It's not 'nothing'. I didn't get a wink of sleep last night because I was so excited to come with you."

The ginger-haired boy presses his lips together tightly and then leans his face closer to you. "Wait, really?!"

How many times has it been now that you've felt your face heat up around Fred? You could play so coy and confident before, but now you felt like any other girl-with-a-crush in your year. "As a matter of fact, yes." You raise your chin and attempt to sit up straighter. "I know it may seem that I only agreed to come because of a compromise, but... I really did — do — appreciate you considering me."

"I don't think we'll need to stop by Honeydukes, your highness. You're so sweet, that my teeth already ache."

"You're so...!" You smack his arm.

But he's grinning like a fool, pulling at your scarf. "I'm so what?"

"I'm gonna take points off Gryffindor, just because you asked."

He guffaws, "what is this abuse of power?"

You take a swig of butterbeer and shrug, head high and smirk on display. "I like to call them perks."

"See?" You feel on your neck as he gives a tug-tug. "This is why you need to be kept on a lead."

Before you can retort, you notice he's pointing at his upper-lip and quietly chuckling. It sets off your heart.

"Brilliant moustache you got there," he says.

"Oh... thank you." How embarrassing. You really thought he was suggesting something else for a moment there. You glance around the room to make sure no one's watching before you slide a tongue over the sweet foam above your lip. "Is it gone?"

"Just..." at first there's a second of hesitation, but then he pulls you in over the table and meets you half-way, un-gloved hand coming up to cup your face. Why is he always so warm? Why is it that one of the most notorious rule-breakers of the school is taking your fancy? And so easily at that.

It feels like an hour passes when his thumb smooths over the left corner of your mouth and you hold in a breath, fingers clenched around your mug. You simply cannot help the urge to look at his own lips; pretty, pink and gently parted, calm breaths passing through.

His movements pause all of a sudden, so you glance at his eyes, but he's already looking at you. Completely under your spell, completely forgetting how to move, and completely forgetting that you're in public. You seem to have forgotten the same, still not pulling away from his touch. He catches your eyes dip to his lips again and he swallows thickly.

Then he's moving away and sitting back down, clearing his throat. "There, now you're good."

"Thanks," you wipe a finger over for extra measure and then look out the window, clearing your throat and straightening your back.

"You know how you mentioned that part of the deal was that we'd do anything I want to do?" He inquires, finishing his drink with a last swig.

"Yeah. A deal is a deal," you answer, finally turning back to him, surprised to see a confident smile carved into his features.

"Perfect. There's something I want to show you, but first I have a really good idea to help you unwind and forget about your prefect-ness."

"That doesn't sound good," you tease, chugging the last bit of your own butterbeer.

He's smirking now, "you won't be saying that when you see what we'll be doing."

»»————-　⌁　————-««

You're both crouched behind a boulder that oversees the Shrieking Shack in the distance. The perfect spot to spy on anyone who visits the lookout point. The perfect spot to snog outside of school walls. And it also happens to be the perfect spot to stock up on snowballs and wait for one particular person to fall into your trap.

"I hate to admit, but you were right, Sir Weasley. Again," you mutter, rubbing your gloved hands together.

"The more you hang out with me, the more you'll find out just how right I always am." He peeks over the boulder for a moment and then his hand shoots up in alarm, speaking in barely a whisper, "he's here."

He is. You can hear your Quidditch captain now and a few of his buddies, chatting and laughing. Someone puts on a voice, and it makes the group howl, but makes your stomach churn. The closer they get to the lookout, the clearer their words sound and the more you're looking forward to breaking the rules.

"—thinks she's all that, just 'cause she's a prefect. Like, bitch, I'm older than you!"

Their laughter is equal to that of nails on a chalkboard. Pelting them with some snowballs might not be fulfilling enough.

"Nah, it's 'cause she's got Snape behind her, hah. Thinks she can say and do whatever she wants."

Fred is hearing all of this. You feel like screaming, and perhaps hexing the hell out of all of them. They need a proper disciplining.

"Yeah, that's probably what's happening!" The group laugh again, and the next thing they say is the last straw. "She only got prefect because she's fucking him."

The bottom of your vision is blurry, but you tell Fred you're ready and he only nods. You both raise your wands, and he counts to three.

One snowball hits the back of the captain's head and to your satisfaction he lands on his face. You and Fred are enjoying the scene a little too much that it isn't until one of the idiots shout your name, do you realise you've blown your cover.

"Shoot!"

"Quick! We need to unleash all we've got!" Fred takes your free hand and guides you up to stand beside him. "One, two, THREE!"

Adrenaline shoots through your veins, as together you swish your wands and the rest of your snow pile is sent into the air. One more flick of the wands, and the balls fly with the speed of a snitch. Straight toward their faces. Exclamations, grunts, yells echo through the woods and open winter air. They swipe at their faces and eyes, blinded by your attack. The captain's still trying to recover from the first hit, from head to toe the entire front half of him is covered in white.

You let out a laugh, and suddenly Fred takes your hand again and you're sprinting away from the crime scene.

"HEY!" The Quidditch captain shouts after you, pure rage in his tone.

But you couldn't care less, because that grin on the Weasley's face is too contagious as you run by him, gloved hand in gloved hand.

He peeks over his shoulder to meet your gaze, only resulting in a skip of his heart and a flip of his stomach. Losing that Quidditch match was absolutely worth it, and Fred had to remind himself to thank George later for taking the blow.

You share breathless laughter as the shouts increase in amount, but decrease in volume. You're both much too fast for them and manage to get back to the village where you could hide within the crowds.

Your feet slow to a walk, and you both check if any of the idiots followed. Fred spots two pass by a tree and squeezes your hand to gain your attention.

"In here," he jerks his head, and pulls you into a small alley between two buildings.

Finally having a moment to catch your breath, you realise that it isn't really an alley, and more like a small gap. The space is so narrow in fact that your body is essentially pressed up against his. Back against wall. Heaving chest against heaving chest. Feet and legs side-by-side each other as though woven.

You don't care to look to your left where those jerks could be looking for you. You simply can't. You can't because all you can see are Fred's parted lips again, and he's looking down at yours. After which, your gazes meet and you don't think you've ever felt so hot in the middle of winter before.

"You're so beautiful," he breathes. No grin, no smirk, no teasing, just facts.

"And you're..." Your eyes dip again.

His hand slides out of yours, and then you feel weight by your hips and he's squeezing against the material of your pants and sweater.

You crane your neck, and he dips his head, as those gloved hands of his pull you into him.

Your own hunger has your fingers smooth over his chest and grip the collar of his hoody, desperately tugging for him to come closer and closer, tension in the air building with each breath.

"And I'm... what?" He purrs.

Something stirs in the bottom of your abdomen as the scent of butterbeer fills your senses, just millimetres away now. And then he captures your lips. And it's like heaven, because his hands can't help but slide up under your sweater and hold you by the skin of your waist.

At first the kiss is gentle, hesitant, but then you open your mouth a little wider and Fred takes this as a clear invitation. He smooths a tongue over yours, the taste of the sweet foamy drink still lingering on your lips.

His bold action elicits a hum from you, and his grip only tightens, craving more and more of you and your pretty sounds. You go until you can't breathe, mouths parting reluctantly but eyes still closed.

Fred presses his forehead against yours, your noses brushing in a feather-like touch. His thumbs caress your sides as he whispers, "you never answered my question."

"You wanna know what you are, right?” You murmur, hands sliding down over his collarbone and resting on his chest.

“Yeah. You’ve said it twice now and never finished your sentence.”

“Okay,” you lean in, lips feathering over his. “You’re…”

Good Godric you’re addicting. He pushes his head forward to meet you, but you pull back with the most attractive breathy laugh he's ever heard. Your lips stay brushing against his, but you won't give him any more than that and he loves it.

"You're..." you say again on his mouth, and he hangs on every single one of your words. "You're the best thing that's ever happened to me at Hogwarts."

He watches your eyes for a moment, and leans into you once more, hands climbing up to lay flat against your back, your sweater pooling by his wrists. And you share the softest kiss ever, full of adoration, full of care, full of absolute affection.

"You saying that, you being here right now... feels like I've just won the Quidditch cup," he says when you part.

"I really mean it, Fred." You wrap your arms around his middle and squeeze him there, cheek squishing into his chest. "You've heard how people talk about me, but you don't seem to care about any of that stuff."

He returns your gesture, his own cheek landing on the top of your head. "You're right. I don't care about it, because I've seen how much you care for the school and care for keeping things in order. A little too much, but to each their own."

"Oi."

"I have to tease, I have to. Still, joking aside, if anyone says that kind of shit about you and you hear about it, find me and tell me. Me and Georgie have your back."

"Just don't get caught," you smirk.

"You won't take points away if you catch us, will you?"

You pull away from the cuddle and send him that beautifully, intimidating smile of yours. "Not if you promise to keep losing your Quidditch games."

"Low blow, your highness!" He laughs and then you're running away, giggling like a fool.

You manage to slip through the crowds and head toward the woods by the Shrieking Shack lookout, your giggles only getting louder and more frequent when you see Fred bounding closer and closer to you. Your cadence slows when the ground starts to feel icy under your boots, and sooner than you think, you feel arms wrap around your stomach and you squeal.

Fred's laugh vibrates against your back, and after a few pants of breath he speaks into your ear. "There's still something I wanted to show you."

"Oh?" You spin around in his hold. "That's right. What is it then?"

"Surprise. Follow me." He's hasty in his movements, as he takes your hand, running further into the woods. Then he rounds the corner of a large tree trunk, his fingers slip out of yours as he twists around to face you and then he's pulling you by your hips, grin on display.

Your heart flips when your back meets with the rough surface of the tree, bodies pressing into one another and then his mouth is hovering over yours. There's hunger in his eyes, yet he's waiting for your next move.

"Wow. 'I have something to show you'. That was so corny," you tease in a whisper.

He chuckles, feeling your lips just barely touch his, "but you loved it."

"I did. You're right again, Sir Weasley."

"Always am, your highness."

He squeezes your hips. You lift your chin and you kiss for a third time that day.

#fred weasley x reader #fred weasley #fred weasley x reader smut #fred weasley smut #fred weasley x you #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley fluff #fred weasley x y/n

[softguarnere]

Memories Feel Like Weapons

Edmund Pevensie x gn!reader

Summary: “People can be different. They can change. You’ve changed.” Gently, you use your pointer finger to hook his chin and turn his face towards you, making him look you in the eye. “You’re a good king, Edmund, and an even better man. A good brother. A good boyfriend. Everyone has forgiven you for what you did as a child.” A/N: What's up, y'all?! It's been freezing these past few days and I hate it! 🥴 So this is for all you other lovelies who are currently being plagued by SAD 🫶🏽 Also, in case it's not clear in the fic, for the purposes of the story, we're just gonna assume that reader's parents also sent them off to the country during the war to stay with the professor, that they met the Pevensie's there, and went to Narnia with them. Anyway, I hope you enjoy! ❤️ Warnings: Edmund has SAD but it's Narnia so it's never actually called that, the author is (once again) overusing commas

As interesting and as magical a place as Narnia is, you’re willing to admit that diplomatic negotiations are something that usually bore you to tears.

You try to take an interest, you really do, for Edmund’s sake. Political wheeling and dealing is his bread and butter. You’re not particularly adept at it yourself. Edmund has tried to explain the finer points to you many times, but it’s not something that you can wrap your head around. But maybe that’s just because you get too distracted thinking about how good looking your tutor is. Sometimes you raise a question or a particular point that you know he’ll jump to answer just to see how passionately he talks about his favorite subject. As far as you know, he hasn’t caught on yet.

Today proves to be different, though.

A chill in the air greets you when you awake. A crackling sound from the corner tells you that a servant has crept in at some point and started a fire in the hearth to stave off the cold. Blinking to adjust your eyes to the light, you’re greeted by the type of cold, white sunlight that announces a wintery morning and the season’s signature magical touch that often appears overnight – snow.

You leap out of bed, gasping when your feet kiss the cold floor. Hurrying to put on slippers, you wrap yourself in a fluffy robe and hurry to the door.

Edmund hates the winter. He hates the snow even more. No one can blame him for that. But you’re the only person he’s confessed this to.

Sure, his siblings might suspect as much. Those first few years in Narnia, no one dared suggest that they play in the snow whenever it arrived, for fear of what it might imply, and for fear of inadvertently upsetting the youngest Pevensie brother. After a few more years, he would find excuses to be tucked away in his library on snowy days, and no one would breathe a word of the fun they had without him while he was around. A delicate subject and a fine dance around it, to say the least.

It was only last winter that Edmund confided in you, and only because you had recently become a couple. He said the winter was hard enough on its own, but the snow brought back too many bad memories, ushered in nightmares so vivid that he sometimes woke up questioning what was real and what wasn’t.

This is going to be a rough day for him, to say the least. Which puts a damper on the mood, since ambassadors from a nearby kingdom are arriving to negotiate trade – something he was so looking forward to.

“Edmund?” Your voice seems too loud for the quiet library, and the echo makes you flinch slightly at the loudness of your own voice, at the desperate quality it holds.

Stepping further inside the room, you listen, and tune into the crackling of the fireplace along the far wall. You follow it until you can see the chairs in front of it, and in one of them, Edmund, slumped over a large tome, asleep.

He’ll have a crick in his neck from sleeping that way, you think. If you hadn’t known why he was here, finding him in his favorite place like this would be sweet. It still tugs on your heartstrings, yes, but in a different, heavier way.

“Edmund?” You gently shake his shoulder before stepping back.

The Just King startles awake, his book slipping out of his lap. His eyes are wide and wild as they flick across the room, struggling to make sense of his surroundings. Finally, they land on you and soften. “(Y/N)?”

“Good morning, sleepy head,” you reply, trying to keep your tone light, casual. “If you say that your neck doesn't hurt after sleeping like that, then you’re a liar.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” The painful popping noises that echo from his spine say otherwise, but you let it go. Slowly, he rises, stretches, and then takes a step closer to you and plants a kiss on your forehead. He sighs through his nose. “Today is the day.”

You slip your hand into his, intwine your fingers. “How are you feeling?”

Edmund shrugs. His relationship with his siblings has improved leaps and bounds in all the years that they’ve spent in Narnia, but sometimes he still hesitates to show certain emotions around them, to express himself the way he should. Sometimes it’s easier when it’s just the two of you in a space like this where he’s comfortable.

“I’ll manage.”

“If you’re not feeling up to it – “

He squeezes your hand. “I’ll be fine. It’s just a day that I have to get through.”

“Spring will come again,” you assure him, using the mantra that you often whispered to comfort him through last year’s winter season.

“And we will greet it with open arms and grateful hearts,” he finishes. He attempts a smile, but it looks more strained than usual. “Don’t worry, darling. Everything will be fine.”

. . .

It is almost immediately not fine.

The ambassadors arrive in all their splendor. Fine fabrics and shimmering jewels assure that no one can take their eyes off them as they enter the hall and approach the five thrones. They bow to Peter in the center, to Susan and Lucy on his left, then to you and Edmund on his right. Servants carry golden trunks behind them. They have come to these diplomatic negotiations bearing gifts in the most literal sense.

Though you will all retire to a separate chamber for the actual negotiations, the gift giving is a public affair for the whole court to witness. And because it’s so formal, it’s rather slow.

Strong weapons forged of foreign metals are gifted, followed by clothes of their country’s latest fashions, and small samplings of food for each of you, a different dish for you each to try based on what the ambassadors have heard about you.

Thank goodness you’re a good actress, because the ambassadors seem to think that you really do seem excited to try the food in the bejeweled silver container that they gift to you. In reality, you’re trying your hardest not to grimace at the unfamiliar looking treats inside of it, and trying hard not to become preoccupied wondering if the taste will be as . . . unique as the smell that emits from them.

“And finally, for King Edmund,” one of the ambassadors says with a bow before presenting a silver container to Edmund with a flourish. “I have heard a rumor that you are quite fond of these.”

Thankful for a distraction from the gift in your own hands, you turn your attention to Edmund. Sitting beside him, you are in full view of the show that his siblings are not. You can see the rosy color, the powdered sugar. The Just King’s smile immediately falters. Strong hands clamp the container shut before anyone else has the chance to see what’s inside – Turkish Delight.

For a moment there is nothing but silence, the labored sound of Edmund drawing a breath. It goes on just long enough that his siblings glance at him. Only then does Edmund seem capable of forcing himself to smile, to nod, to thank the ambassador for such a thoughtful gift. If his siblings sense that something might be wrong, they don’t even know the half of it.

Because what has just happened, really? Is this a slight on behalf of the other country’s rulers? Or do they genuinely have no clue the implications of their actions?

As the exchanging of the gifts comes to a close, Edmund coughs into his fist, clears his throat. Does it again. He thumps the flat of his palm against his chest.

Peter turns to him. “Are you alright?”

“I think I just require a bit of fresh air, if you’ll excuse me for a moment,” Edmund replies. He says it far too quickly, and he uses the excuse to dismiss himself from the hall. The silver container that holds the Turkish Delight has been abandoned, left behind on his throne.

It takes everything in you not to race after him, to follow him, to make sure that he’s okay. Instead, you’re stuck helplessly glancing between the doorway that he’s disappeared through and the ambassadors who won’t seem to shut up.

Finally, the niceties end. The other king and queens of Narnia begin to migrate into a separate chamber with the ambassadors to begin the negotiations.

Quickly, quietly, you catch Lucy by the sleeve of her dress and lean in close to her ear. “I’ve got to go find Edmund,” you whisper. “I’m worried about him.”

Lucy’s eyes go wide, but she holds her composure under the watchful eyes of the court and the visiting representatives. “I’ll cover for you,” she whispers back.

As one of the five Narnian monarchs, you don’t technically need anyone’s permission to leave – except maybe Peter’s, since he’s the High King. Still, you’re the only one who’s not a Pevensie sibling, which can sometimes be a little isolating. Knowing that Lucy has your back boosts your confidence as you slip away, heading for the nearest place that you think Edmund might have disappeared to.

A quick search reveals that he’s not in the library. Or the armory, or any of his usual haunts. As a last resort, you duck into his bedroom, and it’s there that you find him, standing before the hearth, staring into the flames. His hand holds the place on his side where the White Witch stabbed him on the battlefield, though the gesture seems absentminded.

“Ed?” You make your voice soft so as not to startle him.

He looks up, eyes wide, surprised anyway – and hurt.

You don’t waste time asking if he’s okay. Instead, you cross the room to meet him in front of the fire. “Oh, Edmund.”

He doesn’t bother lying and saying that he’s fine. That’s how you know it’s bad. When Edmund Pevensie goes quiet, retreats within himself, it means that he’s truly wounded. This is something deep inside of him that aches, that rots.

Not knowing what to do, you take a seat on the rug in front of the hearth. You’re careful not to touch him, trying to offer him the space if he needs it. But he follows your lead and takes a seat, too, which seems like a good sign.

For a while, neither of you speaks. You just sit near each other, staring into the fire. Edmund looks very numb when he finally says, “I didn’t mean to leave like that. I just . . . panicked.”

“No one blames you.”

“Seeing that stupid Turkish Delight – “ He shudders. “I can’t figure out if it was a poor choice given with good intentions, or if it was a slight on my honor, a reminder of what I did.” He frowns. “I suppose to some people I’ll never be Edmund the Just – I’ll only ever be just Edmund, The Traitor.”

“No,” you protest. Space be damned; you grab his hand in yours and squeeze it, like that gesture can also grab his attention, infuse the meaning of what you’re about to say to him so that he cannot ignore it. “Edmund, you’ve changed. You’re not a traitor.”

“Anymore.”

“People forget that I was there, too,” you remind him. “I tried to follow you to Jadis’ castle.”

“That was different. You were trying to stop me from betraying my family.” His brow furrows at the memory. “So I shoved you into a snowbank and ran off without you. And then you went back to Beaver’s the help the others. (Y/N) the Loyal,” he employs the epithet that Aslan gave you, but you can’t be sure why. Because of what you did then? Because you’re here with him now?

“People can be different. They can change. You’ve changed.” Gently, you use your pointer finger to hook his chin and turn his face towards you, making him look you in the eye. “You’re a good king, Edmund, and an even better man. A good brother. A good boyfriend. Everyone has forgiven you for what you did as a child.”

Edmund shakes his head. “But they haven’t forgotten. And I can’t, either, if I’m being honest.” He doesn’t meet your eye when he confesses, “It haunts me, the memories. Every winter.”

“No. But you can do something else.” You pause to make sure that you have his full attention when you make your suggestion. “You can forgive yourself.”

Edmund blinks. As smart as he is, it seems like the thought has never occurred to him before now.

“It doesn’t have to be now,” you assure him. “It’s not an instantaneous thing. Just . . . something to work on. A project. An ongoing one.”

Silence falls between you again as he turns back to the fire. It takes a few moments before he nods, the light shining off his dark hair and his crown.

“I’ll work on it,” he says, resolved. He turns back to you, and when he speaks again, his voice is so unsure, so timid, that you have the sudden urge to hold onto him with one arm and use your other to draw your sword and fend off anything or anyone in the world who might come near and cause him harm. “Can you help me do it?”

You nod. “Of course.”

“Thank you,” he clears his throat, shakes his head. “I’m going to need more than my own forgiveness for being late to these negotiations.” He makes no move to get up. His gaze wanders across the room, as if seeing it for the first time, before landing on the window and studying the portal to the frozen, white world beyond it.

“You don’t have to go if you don’t feel up to it.” Then, trying to lighten the mood, you bump your shoulder against his. “I’m sure Susan and Lucy ganging up on the ambassadors will give them a run for their money.”

Edmund chuckles, settles back on the rug. “Good, because I honestly don’t think I can look into the eye of a person who tried to give me Turkish Delight without hitting him over the head with my sword.”

Even though you’re in a relationship, it’s maybe the most vulnerable that Edmund has ever been with you. He places his head in your lap and stares into the hearth as you card your hands through his dark locks.

“Spring is coming soon,” he mutters, his voice heavy with the sleep that’s trying to catch up with him. “Maybe then I can start over . . . Would be nice to not have to worry about freaking out over a bad gift and embarrassing myself in front of the whole court.”

“Spring will come again,” you remind him, voice soft in case he’s already dropped off to sleep. “And we will greet it with open arms and grateful hearts.” Then, for good measure, you add a new line to aid you through your latest challenge. “And it will allow us to start over.”

#Edmund can have SAD - as a treat #edmund pevensie #narnia imagine #narnia fanfiction #narnia x reader #edmund pevensie x reader #my writing

[inkdemonapologist]

OK, I was reading through past posts about the escape au. What's all this about Sammy being a murder suspect? I understand him being ex-prophet, but that was ink people... right?? Right???!!!

NOPE. This is based on book canon; in DCTL Sammy is responsible for murdering Norman Polk and at LEAST two animators in preparation for his attempted demon-appeasing ritual. Sammy disappeared for some time just before he went full murder-cultist, and was actually reported missing, so THE POLICE SHOWED UP AT JDS to investigate...

I think BatDR has pretty effectively jossed this, but I also had a headcanon at the time I created Escape AU that Sammy had been responsible for Jack’s murder, as well. They were so close, why would Sammy NOT want to make Jack a part of the salvation he’d found?

I haven’t read Fade To Black as of yet (I'm hoping to read it pretty soon so do not send me FtB info please lmao), so no idea if this gets addressed there, but like 4 or 5 people disappearing mysteriously immediately after police were tipped off about a missing person seems REAL HARD to make fly under the radar, and once you’re investigating you might run into other missing people (Jack, the violinist) who were connected to JDS, too. But somehow JDS didn’t get shut down for any crime reasons, it just went bankrupt. So… I think the easiest possible way out would be if the disappearances ended up pinned on Sammy. Lots of people saw him acting explosively volatile before he stopped coming into work, he already had A Reputation for being Very Strange even before the ink, and it sure would not be hard to imply the tragedy of a Mad Genius who must’ve just Lost His Mind And Finally Snapped for reasons definitely completely unrelated to workplace conditions. Even if Joey didn’t lean the narrative in this direction himself, SURELY it would be a suspicion, at least in retrospect? The police ask questions, nobody is particularly kind to Sammy’s character and likely paint a picture of someone who is absolutely the kind of guy who would murder a bunch of people. He stops coming into work, makes a huge mess of his department, and then 4 people disappear. Joey shuffles the ink machine to New Jersey for a lil bit for ““““““repairs”””” and the police are able to investigate JDS to search for bodies they will never find. It’s a cold case, but like… Sammy would be your biggest suspect, right? Because it’s not Joey! He’s eccentric in DCTL but he’s not MURDER eccentric! And the music director was SO clearly troubled. You’d just kind of assume that Sammy probably did it and if we had ever found him, we might know more about why and how he did it.

So I think if Sammy Lawrence in Escape AU turned up in the public eye again, that would immediately be the question: Did you kill all those people? And the answer isn’t quite “no,” ("I did, but I was under the influence of magical demonic ink") and Sammy is, unfortunately, incapable of answering this question in a way that doesn’t make him sound very suspicious.

#Escape AU #sammy lawrence #i know you have questions you always do

[tmntxthings]

request: can I get a platonic Rise!Turtles(mainly Mikey cus I love that boy way too much, also can you add April if possible?) x GN/Male Reader. The prompt is that the reader is this omniscient spirit-like entity from a different dimension who likes to travel through worlds and interact with them or simply watch them from afar through astral projection and just so happened to lend into this one and had caught an interest by the Turtles(because they're the only beings so far that radiate magic energy) and decided to follow them around

In This World

author’s note: omigosh so sorry for the wait, I rlly rlly rlly rlly hope you enjoy >.< to tumblr, u need auto save, like I was almost done (._.) three perspectives are missing, don’t do this to me AGH

warnings: platonic relationships, fluff, comfort, unedited

—————————————————————————

Leo

Leo never thought a silly game of ouija board would amount to anything other than him scaring the bejesus out of Raph and Mikey, he didn’t have any hopes to scare Don. But as fate had it, unbeknownst to them all, you were watching the game and decided to have a little fun.

Now Leo had planned on pushing the piece around the board, and acting as if a ghost had done so. But before he could apply much pressure the little glass piecing was already moving to the letter ‘y’ after he had asked “Is anyone out there?” Leo immediately suspected Donnie had went ahead and moved it so Leo shot him a glare

But Donnie was raising his eyebrows and giving him a look that said what?? “Alright wait a minute, everyone let go..” Leo said and everyone retracted their fingers from the glass piece. “Is anyone out there?” He asked again and watched in horror as the piece moved on its own. Spelling out yes.

All the brothers were up from their spots around the board, running to the edges of the room and screaming bloody murder! “A GHOST IS HAUNTING US!!!” Leo couldn’t believe it, he thought everything had a rational explanation, but he couldn’t exactly refute what his eyes were seeing.

After things settled down and more questions were asked, full blown conversations had with not a ghost they found out but you! Turns out Donnie’s whole theory about the multiverse and space time continuum was true, Leo didn’t know what that all meant but basically it meant you weren’t dead, nor a ghost, nor haunting anyone, though you admitted to them all that you found them very entertaining

Leo might’ve become a little more entertaining after that, but the coolest part was when you finally revealed your astral projection/image, the two of you got into trouble plenty of times after that, mega pranks being pulled, if Leo was ever bored out of his mind, he’d go to you with a big smirking expression on his face, “Y/n~~~~ who do you wanna prank this time???”

Donnie

After finding about your existence you better bet your bottom dollar that Donnie is taking the ouija board in his lab and asking all the questions his big brain can think of, this turtle has some hard hitting inquiries too. “How is this possible?” “How does your power work?” “How many realities have you been to?” “What made you stop in this one specifically?”

Come to find out, the turtles mystic energy is off the charts after the events with the kraang. I was drawn to your power signatures but I stayed because it’s never a boring day here, you tried your best to answer all of Donnie’s questions, you found it quite endearing how curious he was, to you having become used to the traveling you didn’t think it was that special

Donnie would try conducting experiments once you revealed your astral form, though much to his dismay he found that he couldn’t exactly hook you up to a bunch of wires, they’d just fall to the ground right through you, what boggled his mind completely was when you would hand the wires back to him with a shrug, not being able to explain how you could touch things, yet things couldn’t touch you

The logic befuddled the genius turtle, but it seemed a lot of things as of late were defying logic and reason, don’t even get him started about the whole gravity situation by metro tower during the kraang invasion, some things just weren’t meant to be explained, he guessed he would have to classify it as magic: science that has yet to be understood.

“Y/n I think I’ve come up with an alternative method of experimentation,” Donnie said as soon as you floated into the lab, “but if this fails I have 36 new questions I would like to discuss.” His goggles come down looking real scientific, definitely meaning business as you held back a smile, his enthusiasm to learn knows no bounds!

Splinter

Splinter was used to the crazy weirdness of the world. So he wasn’t that shocked when his sons finally introduced you to him. You reminded him so much of the Hamato Clan legacy, how they too showed up in a similar form as yours, helping Splinter and his sons when they needed it most.

He didn’t mind your presence when you came to float by his recliner in the projector room. As time passed he came to accept you just like he had with April. “Hello friend #2” he’d smile, Hello Master Splinter~ you would reply. You would indulge him as he talked about his past and adventures as Lou Jitsu.

Sometimes late at night when the brothers were all asleep, you would float back into the room to see Splinter was still awake, on those nights he would talk to you about his worries, how he didn’t think he did a good job raising his sons, how he wished he could’ve done things better, he wished he would’ve thought more about them than himself..

Well, I think they turned out to be just fine, but I think you still have time! They may be teenagers but they still look up to you greatly! Splinter would nod, it would get quiet and he’d stare off at the projection, not paying much attention to the commercials. “Yes, I think that is what I shall do.”

“Don’t tell my sons, but you are my favorite.” Splinter said sneakily as he looked over the recliner to make sure neither Red nor Orange heard. Purple would be absolutely devastated. Blue probably not so much, though Splinter loved him, all his sons. Your secret’s safe with me you promised.

Raph

Raph would be skeptical about you at first, he didn’t have a good track record with beings from other places. Especially since they had finally recovered from the kraang. But with time he came around, realizing you were different, you meant no harm to them or the rest of humanity for that matter.

Though you did like to pull pranks with Leo, which Raph was a victim of plenty a times. Poor guy actually would let a high-pitched scream every time you would pop in to hang out with him. Raph may be the biggest and strongest, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have fears. He hated scary movies and you resembled what he would call a ghost for a lack of a better term.

“AH! Oh- it’s you!” He’d breath out in relief as you smiled sheepishly. The whole lair would know whenever you tried to hang out with Raph. Which would mostly be when he was working out or training. One time when he had finished a particular brutal workout he had been too tired to pick up the weights.

I can help, you offered and floated over to the heaviest dumbbell. You picked it up with ease and floated over to where they were stored. All the while Raph’s mouth was gaping in complete shock. “You’re really strong!!” He gushed, the only other person who could lift that besides himself was Mikey when he was using his mystic abilities.

You didn’t have the heart to explain to Raph that it all came down to mental will, which as a reality shifter you had a lot of, so it just came down to how badly you wanted to pick up the weight. He watched as you quickly cleared up the rest, Raph would definitely be asking you to workout with him!

Mikey

Mikey was also afraid of you at first, but he came to trust you way more swiftly than Raph. He absolutely loved the idea of having a friend who was ready and waiting to hang out! He’d call out to you to do just about anything together. “Hey Y/n do you wanna watch me color? Look I made this for you yesterday!”

Wow Mikey, it’s gorgeous! Thank you so much you beamed as he added it to your designated pile since you didn’t have a place to put them. He would ask you if you wanted to watch him cook, or to watch videos with him, or if you wanted to go out to the surface together!

Mikey rarely wanted alone time, and if you weren’t hanging out with one of his brothers then you were there by Mikey’s side, listening to his rambling. One day he took you by surprise, turning to you, looking down as his fingers came together. “Y/n?” Yes Mike? “Do you think if I made a portal, I could reach your reality? Then maybe we could hangout.. for real?”

You listened intently, you knew of Mikey’s powerful abilities, his mystic energy was the greatest out of all his brothers. You had been drawn to it like a moth to a flame. Though that may be possible, I am perfectly happy with the way things are now… thank you for the offer though Sweet Mikey

You smiled at him as he looked up with a slight smile, sighing, “yeah you’re right things are fine this way,” he didn’t want to admit it to himself but it would probably take a lot out of him to make another portal so soon. As long as you were happy though Mikey wouldn’t do anything risky. “You just let me know if you change your mind Y/n, maybe Donnie could help too!”

April

Now you weren’t exactly the normal friend that April had been hoping for, but a new/astral projection/person was a friend nonetheless. During the day when the turtles were asleep you would hang out with April. She was very aware you were around during school, seeing you pull pranks inconspicuously.

Those pranks were mainly pulled on the students who gave April a hard time, aka bullies. They’d be bending down to use the water fountain and it would suddenly be spraying them in the face. You tried to keep it toned down since you didn’t want rumors of the high school being haunted spread around.

April would always shake her head saying she didn’t you to do that. But you could tell she secretly liked the thought of having a friend who wanted to stick up for her. Someone who could extract a little harmless vengeance. “Yo! Y/n you there?” April would be walking home from a long day at school and the sidewalks quieted down with little to no traffic. You would appear floating next to her, Yup! How was your day?

April rolled her eyes, like you didn’t already know every little detail. But she obliged, telling her point of view and how she was feeling, what she was looking forward to. “I’ll be heading to the boys later tonight, can you let them know for me?” You gave her a thumbs up and she waved goodbye as she entered her apartment complex.

#platonic relationships #platonic reader #tmnt fandom #tmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #teenage mutant ninja turtles #turtle bros #leonardo #donnatello #raph #mikey #rise turtles #rottmnt donatello #rottmnt headcanons #rottmnt #rottmnt movie #tmnt 2022 #rise tmnt headcanons #tmnt headcanons #headcanon #rise splinter #hamato yoshi #lou jitsu #april o'neil #raphael hamato #michelangelo hamato #leonardo hamato #donatello hamato #save rottmnt #rottmnt x reader

[shivunin]

Yayyy you’re doing prompts again! What about 14 for Maria?

Hehe yeah, it's been a bit, hasn't it? Thank you for the prompt! c:

For "14. one muse is sick and the other takes care of them:"

(Trope Prompts)

A Friend in Need

(Maria Hawke/Fenris | 1,376 Words | Hurt/comfort | No warnings)

The water in the bathtub was pleasantly hot, but Fenris was not sitting in it. He was leaning over the edge instead, breathing in the steam and watching Hawke’s blurry reflection in the still water. 

“Is that any better?” she asked, frowning. She held a jar in one hand and a handful of leaves in the other. 

She’d only asked him if he wanted healing once, perhaps an hour ago. Then, as always, she’d abided by his answer. Fenris had expected as much by now, but he hadn’t expected her to turn up at his door half an hour later with a basket of jars and a pot of tea. Fenris suspected she would leave if he asked her too—and he’d nearly asked several times. The truth of the matter was that he felt miserable enough to dislike the idea of languishing in such obvious vulnerability while he recovered. For this reason and this reason alone, Hawke remained. 

But—as it turned out, she was skilled in healing even when it involved no magic at all. The steam was heavily scented with something that reminded him of Tevinter, sharp and green. He’d hardly been able to breathe through his nose for days, but he found he could manage it well enough now. Even his headache had eased, to his astonishment. 

“Yes,” Fenris said, and slumped against the cool rim of the tub. “My thanks.”

“Of course,” she said cheerfully, screwing the lid on the jar and setting it aside. “They might be common enough, but these summer agues are miserable. I’m sorry this one hit you, too. Anders says the clinic is full to bursting with it.”

“Hmm,” Fenris said, still not terribly up for conversation, and leaned closer to the steam. He was close enough that his hair dipped into the water. He was likely to regret being damp later, but at the moment he hardly cared. 

“Would you like me to tie it up?” Hawke asked, and her reflection leaned closer. “Your hair, I mean. If you’ve trouble with your stomach again, it would be best to keep it out of the way.”

Fenris considered it for a moment, watching her in the water. Her fingers tapped out a steady rhythm on the edge of the tub—a waltz, he thought—and one of the leaves floated past, obscuring his view. 

“Yes,” he said at last. The hair clung to his neck and temples with sweat. Loath as he was to be touched, he did not think he could stand the sensation of his own hair against his skin much longer. Hawke rose and rounded the bathtub, drawing something from her pocket. 

“I’ve a comb here,” she said, and showed it to him. “If I pull too hard, tell me right away and I’ll stop.”

Fenris acknowledged this with a halfhearted nod, the back of his neck prickling when she crouched behind him, but he did not move away when she lifted the comb to his hair and began. 

The motion of the comb was so smooth and consistent, beginning at the tips of his hair and rising gradually to the roots, that he began to doze. Under any other circumstances, he supposed he would never have allowed it. They’d known each other for three years now. He trusted her, much as he could trust anyone, but the two of them were not friends in the same way that she was friends with the others. 

This is only because she cannot heal me, Fenris reminded himself absently, head pillowed on his forearm. Hawke's fingers brushed against the skin of his forehead. They felt cool for once, which was likely not a good sign for his fever, but which felt extremely pleasant. He sighed despite himself and she drew back, tugging softly on his hair as she bound it up. 

“Sorry,” she murmured, and Fenris made an indistinct sound in response. 

Hawke was careful, but fast, tying off the end of his hair with a slight tug and moving away again. For a time, he rested there, listening to her move around his bedroom. If he’d tried—if it had been necessary—he probably could have risen and dragged himself to bed. It was easier to stay where he was, listening to her hum quietly and unpack things from her basket. 

“Fenris?” she said some time later. Fenris jolted, unaware that he’d fallen asleep, and Hawke crouched where he could see her, palms out. 

“Everything is alright,” she told him. “I wanted to see if you’d like help back to bed before I go. I supposed you wouldn’t want company all day, but I’ve set up the tea and soup in reach of the bed for when you get hungry. I can come back in the evening, if you like.”

Fenris was shivering again, skin chilled despite the heat rising from the water and the hearth. Her forehead creased between the brows, and the sight of it almost pushed him to tell her to go. He did not want her concern, and he had little interest in her hovering.

But…

“Stay,” he said instead, his voice hoarse and thick. 

Hawke blinked.

“Are you certain?”

“Yes. Unless—” he was interrupted by his cough, which burned his throat and lungs. Fenris shuddered when it finally eased again, but when he opened his eyes she was holding a cup of tea out to him. She’d only filled it halfway; none of it spilled onto his hands when he took it from her, shivering, and the warmth and sweetness of the tea soothed the burn in his throat. He handed back the empty cup and slumped against the side of the tub. 

It would be wisest to ask her to heal him. He knew that. It was only…that it felt wrong when it was not an emergency. 

“If you’d like,” he finished at last. Hawke set a careful hand on his back, her fingers brushing over his bare spine for only a moment before shifting to the side. 

“Come on, then,” she said. “Let’s get you to bed. You’ll feel better once you sleep, I guarantee it.”

Fenris groaned when she helped lever him to his feet. He was certain he would not feel better once he’d slept; it certainly hadn’t helped him these past few nights. He allowed her to help him into the bed anyways, and did not protest when she drew the blankets over him and pulled a chair closer. 

“I’ll read aloud, if you don’t mind,” she told him, swinging one boot over her knee. “I used to read to the twins when they were sick. Stop me if it bothers you, alright?”

“Yes,” Fenris said, shifting slightly until the lumps in the mattress rested in a more favorable position. 

Hawke opened a book bound in red leather and brushed a lock of dark hair back from her face. Her eyes scanned the page for a moment, and at last she began to read. Her voice followed him into the shadows of sleep, calm and steady through the fever-gripped and restless dreams. 

When Fenris woke several hours later, she was still there, though she’d stopped reading. Her eyes were focused on the window instead, her expression distant and troubled. The book rested open in her lap, one hand pressed to the pages. He wondered how long she had been sitting like that, quiet and remote in his bedroom. He wondered what she was thinking of with that troubled look on her face. 

When he shifted in the bed, her expression cleared at once and she sat forward. 

“Any better?” she asked. 

Fenris lifted a hand to brush his hair from his forehead and found it neatly plaited back instead. When his hand brushed against his skin, he found it comfortably warm to the touch. 

“Better,” he told her, his voice still ragged. He was surprised to realize that it was even true: his fever had certainly broken, and some of the haziness in his vision had faded. He was not cured, but he was certainly less miserable. It was better than he’d hoped.

“Good,” she said, and smiled at him. 

It wasn’t until much, much later that Fenris recognized the lurch in his chest as something other than lingering sickness.

#thanks again for the prompt c: #maria hawke #fenhawke #hurt/comfort #prompt response #ask response #shivunin scrivening #ahhh naming things my old nemesis

[scrollsfromarebornrealm]

on our fates alight--the shieldmaiden, her witch and a bird

Y’shtola sighed.

“Zoissette?  A word?”  She queried.  It had been her intent–well both hers and Zoissette’s own, to properly introduce themselves to the Scions’ newest Dominant.  They’d kept their distance for a few days, the better to let Riven adjust to her new surroundings.  She’d already fled once before because of all the Archons…and Y’shtola could not blame her.  Not after what Minfila had revealed about Riven’s origins.  Priming as Valefor–and then suffering as a lab experiment in the depths of Sharlayan.  Zoissette was particularly nervous about making a good impression, as she was a scientist…

But her beloved was standing there.  With a hand up in greeting.  With that smile firmly fixed upon her features.  And sitting not too far away from them was Riven.  Frozen while eating her food, looking at the two of them–or rather Zoissette with worry.  Her body was tensing, and at any moment Y’shtola expected the younger Dominant to run.

“Zoissette.”

“Hm?”

“Can I speak to you in the corner?”  With a hum Zoissette agreed, and the two researchers headed to a nearby cupboard.  Once out of eye distance, the Elezen winced.

“Did I have the smile again?”

“You did.  But you looked much friendlier!” Y’shtola quickly reassured her.  “Just…it still does look a little unnerving.”  Zoissette sighed gustily, her shoulders drooping.

“And here I was trying so hard to look…”  She trailed off, gesturing with a hand.  “Not evil!  Like a proper scientist!  An ethical one!”

“If it makes you feel better, I expect her to turn tail and flee when she glimpses my Archon marks.”  Y’shtola admitted.  She sighed, glancing towards the alcove where Riven was hidden.  “And at some point we must question her about what happened.  I fear that will not go over well.”

“I strongly suspect that there have been other groups that have operated in the same way as this Site Sixteen.”  Zoissette put a finger to the bridge of her glasses, adjusting them.  “The Garlean Empire being chief among them.  In fact, I’m wondering if they have a connection to this.”  The statement made Y’shtola start, and she stared at her lover.

“You think the Empire had a hand in Site Sixteen?” 

“Native anti-Eikon technology in Eorzea is primarily centered around containing the Eikon and forcing them to obey their new master’s will.  The imperials center around killing and wiping out Dominant bloodlines, as well as all magical traits.”  Zoissette answered. “If someone in Aldenard was the recipient of the misbegotten experiments done on Riven and that other trapped Dominant, we would have already seen the results during our travels in Eorzea.”

“And we haven’t.”  Y’shtola finished.  “And then there’s those rumors of the ultimate anti-Eikon weapon that Gaius van Baelsar is working on." She looked back at the alcove.

“It seems our newest addition might be able to answer a great deal of questions.  If we can coax her into talking.”

------ (starring @driftward 's Zoissette! Thanks for the screenshot!)

on our fates alight masterpost

#ffxiv #ffxiv-ffxvi au (the other one) #on our fates alight

[chrysanthemumgames]

I just read chapter 8 and wow, it was so amazing! I don't even know if I prefer the aftermath of the chapter 7 fight + the ending with the fruit and all, or if I prefer the whole Orpheus and Eurydice thing!

Eurydice literally tackling Orpheus out of the Underworld had to be one of the biggest "she did WHAT" moments of all times for me, but it was so great! Especially with it allowing a good ending too! Or well, at least as good as it could have been given the circumstances. Not to mention, I quite admire you for making something inherently "funny" still being more shocking and suprising than anything else thanks to how you described it. It could have easily turned into a comedic scene considering what happened, but somehow you avoided the pitfall. I also really liked the small detail to allow the MC to stim out of stress during the whole ordeal. It's these little details and how much freedom we get over them that truly make your game special - well, among other things.

Back to the fruit scene though... It's interesting - I was somehow both surprised and unsurprised that it was such a "mundane" thing. It's a bit hard to describe, but on one hand I thought that maybe eating the fruit would be something dramatic, and on the other hand it also felt like people in the Underworld would just treat that as something "normal" to do. Well, I'm assuming if the MC keeps the fruit for now but doesn't eat it yet it may turn to be more dramatic later heh - but that wouldn't really make sense for my specific MC. I really love the fact we can decide to share the fruit though! Again, such a nice thought.

That aside, I have a two questions if you don't mind!

First one is about the magic sharing thing (sorry if it was asked before and I somehow missed it!). Will we be able to determine how our MC feels about their "partner's" magic? I don't mean how they feel about the fact the magic is shared in itself - we can already determine that - but really how they feel about their partner's specific magic. Hades saying he finds the MC's magic rather pleasant was so sweet, and I'm curious if we'll be able to determine how the MC feels in return, basically.

Second one is about Orpheus and Eurydice. In my ending to the story, they will be staying half of the year in the Underworld and half in the mortal realm (I love the parallels with the original Persephone deal here too!) - for any good ending where it's relevant (I'm assuming there are variants), will we be able to talk with them a bit more in future chapters, once they've calmed down and all? Especially since it would be interesting for the MC to discuss being a demigod with Orpheus I think - all the more since he was raised as a mortal and the MC as a god. During the whole trial thing, my MC talked with Eurydice because it's what made sense - they were sort-of-friends at that point, and it made sense that she would be the person my MC would seek there and the one easier to "influence" out of the two to help them succeed, but that means he didn't have the opportunity to interact with Orpheus, sadly.

Thank you and have a great day!

Heya! Thanks as always for the reading and the feedback. :) As to your questions:

I don't have the next book planned down to the individual choices or anything, but I'm pretty sure that one will come up, yes.

Sort of the same answer, really. I do think I'll be looking for opportunities for the PC to talk to other demigods (besides Pyri), and an Orpheus who is around some of the time is definitely an option there. So I suspect there will be, depending on where they are and what they're up to, further opportunities to interact with those two!

#ask #kind non anons #konoi and noir

[lmelodie]

The Santa Clauses Season 2

It's here! And I have access to it, and all of my drably splintery thoughts on the first two episodes.

As an FYI, all my reviews are gonna be hella spoilery so I'll be doing all the reviewing under read mores and under the tags #TSCS spoilers and #Review2

Oh boy unsolicited thoughts HERE WE GO!

Episode 1:

I gotta say, Fluffy is not a bad character in this so far. Christmas Churros are a gold mine and I'm surprised no one has tried to capitalize on that yet.

Scott immediately assuming that Carol was going to kill Gary says a lot about the both of them and their dynamic that I wish was consistent. I love the idea that Carol is down for murder, keep that in cowards!

I have zero idea why Scott is so uptight about Riley keeping this secret when you literally gave EVERYONE IN THE WORLD MAGIC SNOW GLOBES. Nobody here is doing a good job of keeping any of this secret! No one!

And not the North Pole having a Gaslighting Department. Thats, just actually so funny to me. And you bet your sweet ass that Jack frequents that department, he might be employed there!

And once again to reiterate, these songs breaks are just NOT it. As someone who usually love musicals! The songs are mid at most and are just shoehorned into the most random places. Idk, still not vibing.

But Betty and Noel? STILL TOP TIER. I'll talk about them more in a bit, but they are literally perfect. The Blueprint. Betty and Noel get no notes from me. They made cardboard cutouts of each other's faces, like come on! They're cute as SHIT.

Mad Santa lore? Its aight. I appreciate the franchise trying to carve out its own lore after more than 15 years of inactivity. Its decent lore! For the world that it exists in at least. It's just not my personal cup of tea, and I don't see myself utilizing it in my own stories. But I appreciate that it is there.

And you cannot tell me that Jack hasn't tried to team up with Mad Santa before. It just seems like something he would do to, noticing that there was a Santa getting a bad rep and he could feasibly swoop in and break down the institution.

I wanna imagine he went up to him like, so I've heard you've been trying to subjugate a people. Here's my resume, I am all for murder, I do work well with gnomes, consider me. And then he got promptly ghosted.

Episode 2:

Bro the training vest is made out of St. Nicks robe?? What ISNT made out of that robe??? Isn't that like...an important artifact? I would assume it would be if it has that much Christmas magic in it. Why do we keep cutting it up and using it to make things? Is there any of it left?? Does it regenerate its own fabric??? None of these questions will ever be provided answers, I'm sure.

YO ITS MY BOY CUPID!!! LET'S GOOOOOOOO!!!!

Fucking LOVE Cupid! He's just as great as I remember! And because he had so little screen time, he didn't get too butchered!

And I like how he lists only specific Legends that are concerned with the succession. Implying in universe that Father Time and Tooth either think Cal is a good choice, or simply don't give a shit. And i love that for them.

But Cupid does list Sandy, EB and Mother Nature as people who do care. And we already know that were gonna get confirmed Sandy and EB cameos later, so I'm gonna CROSS MY FINGERS SO HARD for a possible Mother Nature cameo at some point. I just want her to lay down the LAW that's all I ask!

Let's how about, leave the puberty topic, out of this series entirely? Wish that whole miscommunication. DIDNT happen.

But we do have WITCH SANDRA!! This was the only possible choice for her, go off queen! Lucy and Sandra with the clasping hands meme: Teenage Girl with Magic Witch Powers. This was the best possible turn for her character, love that for you babe!

As I suspected, Befana in these episodes is a peach yet again. Fucking love Befana, no notes for her either, she's always great.

BUT LET'S TALK ABOUT NOEL AND BETTY!? and how they gave them the most romantic, whirlwind love story of the century? How they met was so FUCKING CUTE! Romeo and Juliet can pack it up! Because THEY are just better!

Betty really took one look at Noel and went, Tee hee, giggle, twirls hair, kicks feet. And I love that for her!

#nonart #the santa clauses #TSCS spoilers #review2 #I liked Mad Santa more than I thought I would! #And Sandman's cameo later on in the season is gonna give me LIFE

[116t98]

I think Emily should’ve been in “Max Out” instead of Ken

I think Ken, Gwen’s older brother, is a character the show could’ve done a lot of interesting things with (like exploring how he’s the only grandchild of Max and Verdona who’s left out of the alien/magic loop), but it’s hard to accept that he’s supposed to be important when he’s never seen or mentioned ever again in any capacity (he’s not even in the family photo on Gwen’s desk in “What Are Little Girls Made Of?”)

As much as I like the concept of Ken, he’s entirely needless; in fact, his episode could’ve played out perfectly fine, maybe even better, without him

How?

By replacing him with Emily, Gwen’s apparent best friend since childhood

Emily is also a cool one-time character who’s, unfortunately, never mentioned again after her debut episode, but her existence and supposed importance to Gwen is easier for me to accept bc she’s not a Tennyson, so her not being brought up in casual conversation is kinda understandable (unlike Ken, who you think would’ve at least been mentioned in passing at least once prior to “Max Out”, and then occasionally throughout the franchise)

I know that Ken only exists bc the show needed a good excuse to justify Max coming out of hiding, and what’s a better excuse than to rescue your grandchild? However, I honestly think he would’ve went looking for Emily too; not only is she a civilian in need (you can’t tell me Max the heroic ex-Plumber wouldn’t have tried to save an innocent person if he could), but she’s his granddaughter’s best friend, and it’d make sense for him to want to save someone Gwen’s familiar with

So, imagine this:

Max finds out that Emily was abducted and decides to go after her himself. Meanwhile, Ben (who’s just learned the same thing) asks Kevin to help find her on Gwen’s behalf since she’s on the phone in the background (learning more about the situation from Emily’s parents)

Kevin asks if Emily’s a Tennyson too; when Ben says “no”, he questions why he should care if she’s not their family, which is when Gwen tells him she’s her best friend. And since he’s whipped for her, Kevin agrees to help them

On the drive over to her last known whereabouts, Gwen talks about her relationship with Emily, mentioning that they’re super close, but they haven’t been talking lately bc of a fight they recently had (the reason for said fight will be revealed later on). Maybe this could be when Kevin notices Ben isn’t super jazzed to be talking about Gwen’s missing friend, which is when Gwen mentions that Ben and Emily aren’t talking either bc of a date that “went poorly” (which happened before “Pier Pressure”, so he didn’t cheat on Julie or anything like that)

The interrogation scene could play out similarly to how it is in the show, except when Emily tries to claim that she doesn’t know anything, the DNAlien doesn’t believe her since “they have reason to suspect that she knows more than she’s letting on”

Fast forward to the scene where the trio saves her from the xenosite, Gwen rushes to make sure her friend’s okay, and after confirming that she’s fine, Emily swears to Gwen that she didn’t tell the DNAlien anything about them, revealing to the audience that she already knows about Ben and Gwen’s powers

Gwen then takes the opportunity to apologize to Emily, who we now learn was upset and hurt that Gwen didn’t tell her about their powers herself, as Emily had to demand answers from Gwen afterward her disastrous date with Ben (we still don’t learn what actually happened in their date in this episode, but we eventually realize she only found out bc Ben transformed in front of her and left her on top of a building). Emily, now fully comprehending just how dangerous it is for her to know their secret, forgives Gwen for the secrecy, and the two finally make up

Then they all team up to find Max, and you know damn well Gwen taught her best friend some martial arts moves for self defense, so Emily would actually hold her own in the fight against the DNAliens (think of Oracle from DC comics)

Maybe this gets Kevin to like her, mirroring how he eventually sees why everyone thinks Ken’s so cool; perhaps he wasn’t impressed by how Gwen described her in the car (thinking she was just another preppy snob), but seeing this side of her makes Kevin reevaluate his assumptions of her. And likewise, maybe seeing Kevin be a hero and caring for Gwen makes Emily change her mind about him, having previously assumed he wasn’t anything other than the town’s resident good-for-nothing bad boy

Skipping to the end of the episode, the four teens are left alone after Max’s sacrifice

It still baffles me how Gwen reacts like this after Magister Labrid died

But she (along with Ben) reacts like this after her grandpa sacrificed himself

So, I’d have Gwen fall to her knees in despair, crying over Max, while Emily pulls her into a hug and comforts her, showcasing how supportive she is of Gwen

Ben would be silently crying too, and Kevin would put his hand on Ben’s shoulder, trying to comfort him in his own way

But they’re still in the middle of a mission and he needs to act like the team leader Max wants him to be, so Ben wipes his eyes, looks out to the horizon and rallies his team in the wake of Max’s “death”, even more resolved to end what his grandpa started

#Ken is cool and all #and I really do think you could get a lot of mileage out of his character #but given what we got in the series proper #it’d probably be better if Emily was introduced in this episode instead of Ken #ben 10 #ken tennyson #gwen tennyson #ben tennyson #max tennyson #kevin levin #alien force #ultimate alien #uaf #mine

[construingseacats]

Umireread: Turn of the Golden Witch: Chapter 2 - Wonderful Utopia

The following contains spoilers for the entirety of Umineko. Please do not read if you are yet to finish it.

This is a promising chapter name. I presume we’re in for quite the fantastical time, then?

Not content to just monopolise the scream market, Jessica’s VA corners the funny market with an extremely exaggerated read on hugs and kisses. I honestly couldn’t imagine reading this without the voice acting.

Ah, I suppose the scene we opened on wasn’t the first time she saw an aquarium then - although it does say something that she can go on that date again and have it feel like the first time. Young love, eh?

This is an interesting one to think about - Yasu definitely wouldn’t have seen this in a positive light. I can’t help but wonder where things would be if George had tried to be a little more forceful.

I suppose this falls more towards a Bern-esque hypothetical that rips the guts out of the characters for the sake of a story - the answer would be that a fundamentally different George erases the human that Ryukishi has built up inside him, and the plot effectively doesn’t happen with an early exposure of Yasu as Furniture.

God man. I love Jessica so much. My heart really breaks for her all the time.

Yasu is unsettled by how extreme her Beatrice persona is, the lengths she has forced her to go to revoke her status as Furniture - but none of this would have been possible without that very forceful push to destroy the status quo.

I, too, loved having my imaginary friends mess around with others when I was younger.

I’m… pretty ambivalent towards all this discussion of the mirror and the torii shrine? I’m not seeing much of a deeper meaning here - beyond the initial assumption of it being the adornment of the test of the bombs - so all the framing of it as a magic sealing mirror that stopped Beatrice from existing falls flat for me. The fact that it’s discussed in this much detail makes me think I might be missing something here, but I’m starting to suspect that it is just intentional misdirection.

I remember being extremely bored at the start of Episode 2 on my first read, but man, it’s really out for blood with anyone rereading it. It shouldn’t be much of a surprise that the sections focusing so heavily on ‘Furniture’ hit harder once you know the connotations behind it, but man.

We have an angel and a devil on the shoulders here - one of them is telling you to abandon the concepts of love and be content to live a pitiful existence as furniture, and the other is telling you to kill everyone in the world.

We’re just lampshading that here and now, I see?

While I suppose we’ve already dug into a lot of the framing of fantasy and reality in Episode 1, Episode 2 sure is starting strong with it here. Maybe things are terrible. Maybe life is pain. But if you believe hard enough - you convince yourself of the fantasy, you seek out the magic - the sea can be deep blue to you too.

It’s interesting seeing all these conversations through the lens of internal dialogue - of Yasu convincing herself of things, swayed by her many aspects - but for the most part there’s not much to add beyond acknowledging it. This is a great scene, but it mostly speaks for itself, you know?

Umineko and NieR: Automata sit in a very questionable hall of fame where they make a poignant scene comedic by censoring the word “love” and letting our immature minds fill it in with any other four letter word we desire.

Over a million words to comprehend the meaning of a single sentence. It sounds insane, but it’s so worth it.

It’s really weird seeing Kinzo outside of the study. His sprite feels so out of place on a sunny day.

There’s a few moments of disconnect here where the sprites are yet to change to the emotion that the text is describing, which gives you odd combinations like this.

The answer was there all along Kinzo, you just had to make an imaginary girlfriend and pretend Beatrice was still there with you.

��I jest about that, but come to think of it, isn’t that partially the truth? The servants make a point about how they buy into the illusion of the Witch for Kinzo’s sake. I know that’s partially a hint towards Yasu’s existence, but I can’t help but wonder if that’s part of it as well. Of course, mandating servants to indulge in your fantasies means they are not treating them with love, but with compulsion; and, as hard as you try, you cannot obtain magic by sheer compulsion. Kinzo’s many years as a sorcerer are more than proof of that.

I feel a little underwhelmed by the chapter name being “Wonderful Utopia”. I suppose it’s reflective of Yasu’s honeymoon period following the establishment of Beatrice, where she can enjoy the temporary joys afforded by a relationship with George, but I think I was expecting something a little more… juicy, I suppose. Ah well, it’s not like we’re leaving the flashback period any time soon.

#umireread #umineko #umineko spoilers

[pagiecakewritesstuff]

INTERLUDE II. MORPHEUS|DREAM OF THE ENDLESS X READER/OC

We are getting into comic book territory, so if you haven't read season of mists (highly recommend) then you might encounter some spoilers.

SERIES MASTERLIST

He stands in his gallery, framed sigils glaring at him with intense thrumming magic, and unlike him he is nervous. He is not the kind to call for help or advice, having heard and read everything possible during his long life, but now he is scared, even now that the danger he feared had passed. Again, he checks if the key still lies within the folds of his robe where he had hidden it in desperation. It's there, brimming with an intense underworldly power he never wished to taste again. He went to Hell to save Nada after his older sister convinced him that is the right thing to do. Now he is back in the Dreaming with Lucifer's key to their realm and with a new troubling piece of information. Above all without his former lover.

 "Sister, I stand in my gallery and hold your sigil. Will you talk to me?" To him, his voice is surprisingly calm, though he is sure his sister will be able to tell that something had shaken him up rather deeply. On the wall, the white carved ankh ripples then disappears as Death turns up in the frame, enthusiastic as ever.

 "Hiya, big brother? What's happening? But make it fast- I'm in kind of a hurry." She does look like she is in a hurry, her looks more dishevelled than usual.

 "My sister..." Thinking for a second he corrects the ruffles on his elegant overcoat, dragged out somewhere from a lonely young woman's dream, set in an 18th-century drama. He changed his attire to something he deemed more appropriate just before Death appeared. "...once you berated me for not calling on you when I had a problem. And now I have not one, but two problems; and I am coming to you for advice."

 "Shoot." She answered leisurely as if for a moment she didn't have somewhere to be.

 "Shoot?"

 "I mean tell me what's wrong."

 "Mm. Shoot." He muses for a second on the newly acquired expression. "Yes. I went to Hell sister. To free the woman Nada..."

 "I know. You went to Hell, and you found Lucifer had turned everyone out."

 "You know?"

 "Of course, I know. And he gave you Hell. But there is something else, I can see it on your face, you have more to tell. What happened?"

 His sister knew him all too well. Morpheus bowed his head, finding it suddenly hard to take in enough air, and he thought nothing can have such an effect on his composed self. Honestly, he would have rather fainted then and there, back in Hell when Lucifer told him this, but he held himself together successfully. Until now.

 "Lucifer, he did not only leave me with his key." Syllable by syllable he choked out the words. "But also with a troubling piece of new information."

 Death leans out of the frame, concerned, half hanging into his realm.

 "What is it?"

 "Talos." The name tears open scars of festered wounds in his soul, sickly yellow pus oozing out from them, blood flowing freely. "Talos was in Hell all along."

 Then Death's expression is unmoved, with no signs of surprise. The realization dawns on him.

 "You knew?" He chokes out, emotion colouring his tone, he doesn't even try to hide it.

 "I had suspected it." She admits.

 "You had suspected it?" He wishes the ground would split open and swallow him with all his pain and sting of betrayal. "And you didn't tell me? For how long?"

 "I ran into Talos a while ago and was asked not to tell you about it. That didn't stop me from digging around a bit, and eventually, I figured out what must have happened. Roughly figured it out. I couldn't find the reason behind Lucifer's actions."

 "You were asked not to tell me about it?" How can they tear into him even more? He kept on searching, even when everyone told him to stop, telling him that what he was doing will lead to nothing. Yet Death knew something all along. "Why?"

 "Talos did not wish to hurt you." Death explained compassionately. "Only believed that you would be in imminent danger upon finding out details. I'm sorry."

 "Why?" His knees buckled under his now suddenly heavy weight, used to a feather-light body, so he let himself fall against the nearby wall to help hold himself up.

 "You know well Morpheus that the Writer's orders are above mine. I did not ask why."

 "Hell is no more." Dream muttered to himself, trying to make sense of his painful revelation. "So where is Talos now?"

 "None of us would be able to tell. Talos will either come back to you or not." Deaths form began to disintegrate. "About the key; it's your choice. You'll figure out something. And soon, I hope. Look, I have to run. I'm doing what I can, but the dead are coming back little brother. The dead are coming back."

 When alone again he shakily slid down to the floor, key already forgotten, imposing clothes falling away from his frame. Did Talos stab him in the back, like the others he loved once? Was he really in danger? And why before they agreed to sort out everything between them? Maybe Talos was taken against will? If so, then he wasn't there to help. The guilt gnawed on him through his already weakened flesh. Oh, how he wants to die now a little, but the key is still in his pocket, buzzing, calling his name. Why?

 With a flick of his wrist, he transports himself to his personal chambers, cold and lonely. He has not used the bed since escaping from the Burgess estate. Since he laid in it with Talos. That must have been roughly two years ago. Yes, two years. One and a half since they've seen each other. And for over twelve months he searched relentlessly.

 A silent teardrop slides down his cheek and he prevents it from reaching the corner of his mouth with a furious wipe of his hand. No. He can't fall apart now. He is the King of Dreams and Nightmares and has a problem to solve. Yet, the words don't sink in like they should as he continues to suffocate in pain and confusion. He believed Talos to be alive all along, yet the information served to him as a plain fact slapped him across the face.

 To his left a stone gryphon suddenly shifts, moving like it was carved out of nothing but pure muscle.

 "My lord?"

 "...Go away." He transported his castle to a nearby mountaintop to escape his anxiety, he wanted to be undisturbed, yet one of his gatekeepers decides to bother him now. They should know better.

 "We have visitors at the gate, my lord. There are many of them."

 "Tell them... To go away. I am not..." A hiccup escaped his mouth, a telltale sign of the lump in his throat, forecasting more tears o come. "...receiving visitors... at this time."

 "But there are envoys, my lord. I recognise a few of them. Some have been here before-- as honoured guests. We gatekeepers cannot keep them all out, should they take it to force their way in. Not unless you lend us strength..."

 "Enough." Getting himself into a crouch, his gaze turns predatory. No rest for the wicked, he would be too lucky to remain alone and nurse his anguish until there is nothing else in the rooms of his heart but that. He wants it to pour out of his body, taint the furniture, to wipe away every touch of Talos', because now he is angry, mainly at himself, but at everyone else too. Mostly at his uninvited guests.

 "What shall we do, lord?"

 He thinks about it for a second.

 "Let them in."

 The gryphon nods and then solidifies into stone again and when Morpheus is sure that he has complete privacy he changes into his regal attire, fit for a Dream King. He still has problems with anyone seeing his body after his hundred years of imprisonment. Before that he didn't even mind Lucienne spotting him in the baths or while dressing, he handled it effortlessly. They all had bodies after all no? Now he trembled at the idea of anyone spotting his bare chest.

 He settles on meeting them in the throne room, it's easier to address all of them at the same time that way. He even takes his sceptre to hold by his right, while he displays the key to Hell in his left hand. The cape he wears stretches to the ground, ornamented with rich embroidery.

 "Welcome to the Heart of the Dreaming. I extend my hospitality to you all."

 His voice is loud in every corner of the space, none can miss it. He observes all his guests, some he knows well, others not so much. It's a colourful company, to say the least, but that doesn't really matter to him, he will have to please them either way. They enter in a rapid flow, announcing their titles and the reason for their visit. It's all the same. They want the key.

 From Hell comes two daemons with Azazel, a formerly prince of the realm. And an achingly familiar face with him. When he can see clearly again from the shock, his heart skips a thousand beats. 

#morpheus fanfiction #dream x reader #the sandman #morpheus #dream of the endless x reader #fic:assorodus #morpheus x reader

[thespacelizard]

15 Questions, 15 Mutuals

jumping on the opportunity to blorbo-post from @lawful-evil-novelist!

Rule: Choose a character from a WIP and use them to answer the questions below.

you might be suspecting an Obedience boy but no! i wanna talk about Sorrow from my Valloroth series, because i love him, and he loves any chance to talk about himself

1 - Are you named after anyone? - I chose my name like a good little Zashi, and if I’m named after anything it’s the fate the Archdemons decided for me—if they want my life to be a misery, I can at least have fun with it.

2 - When was the last time you cried? - I laughed so hard I cried at camp last night, does that count?

3 - Do you have kids? - Unlikely. I’m enchanted against such things when it comes to infernii, and unless the gods have decided to make us compatible with dracarii recently, there’s little chance I’ve spawned an egg. That would be interesting though…how many horns do you think they’d end up with?

4 - Do you use sarcasm? - Oh, no, sweetheart, never.

5 - What's the first thing that you notice about someone? - The way they react to me. It’s not self-centered, it’s self defence; some Vallorosians still have a few quirky little hangups about infernii, and Zashi and Naazgaran infernii alike always react to broken horns.

It’s the ones who act as though they don’t care about any of it that you have to watch.

6 - What's your eye colour? - Cyan. Not human-cyan, infernii cyan, the whole thing, and no it doesn’t make our vision worse, despite the persistent rumours. If anything missing half your eye ought to make you see worse—how do the rest of you manage?

7 - Scary movies or happy endings? - There’s nothing like a Zashi horror story in the middle of an Infernus night, with demons howling beyond the camp walls, the huddled breath of a dozen young infernii making the tent so humid you can hardly breathe.

Fear’s as good a way as any to stay awake.

8 - Any special talents? - Apart from looking this good? Finding the right people and bringing out their unique skills. I’ve an eye for talent, and I do hate seeing it go to waste.

9 - Where were you born? - Infernus.

10 - What are your hobbies? - Food, fucking, and a little bit of anarchist plotting. You know, all the fun ones. I did a bit of fire-dancing once, but it’s tricky when you've lost your fire-resistance. Maybe I ought to take it up again now that Excellence made me that enchantment...I'm sure I won't burn down more than half the K'zinla headquarters.

11 - Have you any pets? - Does the Wraith count? He acts enough like a cat to count, I feel.

12 - What sports do you play/have played? - I’ve never been a very sports for sports sake sort of infernii. Aspiration taught me to fight to begin with, and she put me on my tail more times than I care to remember.

13 - How tall are you? - 5’9”, but we’ll call it an even 6’ with the heels, shall we? You’re not going to see me without them unless one or both of us is flat on our backs, and at that point, height isn’t the part of me you’re going to want to measure, now, is it?

14 - Favourite subject in school? - I used to like magic, and history. Never would have been much of a wizard, I expect—too much memorising and not enough fun—and since I wasn’t born a witch, that was it for that.

History though…now that’s worth remembering. So many don’t. They like to forget, don’t they, the things that happened? So they can pretend the world has always been the way it is.

Not the Zashi though, no, they have songs going back to the days of the Archdemons, and I’d trust their accuracy over any book.

15 - Dream job? - I aleady have it, don’t I? Prince of the House of the Houseless, captain of Vetusak K’zinla—what more could you ask for? The travel benefits alone are unmatched!

i don't think i have five writing mutuals, let alone fifteen, so I'll tag @foxboyclit, @britta-ashcroft and @everybodyloveshippos, and anyone else who wants to do it! (if you do then tag meee, i love to hear about Blorbo From Someone Else's Brain)

(bonus content: my renegade prince art tag has. mostly him and his idiot assassin boyfriend in it because i love them)

#i have no tags for writing stuff that isn't fic TT_TT #oc: sorrow #wip: valloroth

[harmonicsys]

Low Power Condition

A Witch finds her magic failing and must turn to her dolls for an answer. CW: mild threats, D/s themes, dissocation/plurality

"Do you know why I've gathered you all here today?" the Witch began, a menacing look in her face. She looked her cadre of dolls up and down. "Something is wrong, and I suspect one of you is doing it."

The Witch continued, "For three weeks now, my power keeps fizzling out. Runes rendered ineffective, spells unable to be completed, rituals ending in emptiness."

The dolls glanced at each other anxiously. Not one seemed to want to respond.

"Well? Don't make me punish all of you for the failings of one!" bellowed the Witch.

One doll had a tear in its eye and started speaking, "Miss… This one doesn't mean to, …" before trailing off.

"You! Stay right where you are; the rest of you can leave," replied the Witch.

One by one the dolls filed out, until one lone doll remained, trembling slightly, eyes downturned, breathing shallow.

The Witch looked sternly at the remaining doll and said, more softly, "You need to tell me what's going on. Right now."

"This one isn't sure… there's this cloudiness, a sense of commotion in its mind, and…" the doll mumbled.

"Bare yourself to me," came the command.

The doll moved to start removing its adorable outfit---

"No. Not that." The Witch clarified, "You know what I mean. Your mind isn't bared to me, and I don't think it's been for some time."

She stepped towards the doll and gently laid her hand on its hand. "Relax," said the Witch, "and let me see your truth."

The doll started to relax… The Witch's mouth gaped open in amazement.

"You did not disclose this to me, when you agreed to disclose everything and be known fully by me, in order to become one of my dolls."

"This one is sorry, there was some magic at play. This one couldn't seem to speak about it."

The Witch looked slightly puzzled, her brow furrowed. "I've never myself encountered this with a doll before, but I've heard of it. You have another self, and the other self… has magic."

"This one was vaguely aware of that situation, but couldn't seem to disclose it before." The doll began crying hard, managing to say in between gasps, "This one is so sorry, please do not punish it, there was magic, and, and---"

"Silence! Be Still, little one," came the stern voice. "There is a way out of this mess yet. But I need to speak to the one with magic."

The doll blinked its eyes several times, then stood up very straight. "What do you want?" came a strange voice.

The Witch, "Who are you, and why are you in my doll?"

The voice replied, "I am Agatha, the Witch of the Nine Runes. And you must be Mira, the other Witch." Agatha continued, "I was summoned into this doll many years ago, when it was still only a doll on the outside, before you transformed its outsides. It cried out with all its being for a Witch and had found none to answer its call, until it pulled me back to the living world."

Mira's eyes grew wide and she replied, slightly shaken, "This would explain a lot. This doll has always given a bit of trouble. But my magic only started to fizzle out recently, which I don't understand."

Agatha spoke, "When you transformed this doll's body, I went dormant." She continued, her strange voice still emanating from the doll's mouth, "But I had too much power in my old life to stay dormant forever in the mind of this doll. Once I'd found the world of the living again, I couldn't so easily leave a second time."

Mira frowned. "Well, Agatha, I am friendly with other Witches and welcome you into my home, but I cannot work with the power drain caused by your return, which evidently caused the doll to have to hide its mind from me. I depend on my dolls' honesty for some of my power."

Agatha thought for a minute and offered, "Here's what I propose. You can set this doll free. Or, you can have this doll, and I will work with you on spellwork when our interests align, but I need my foothold in this world and my own doll for my own power."

Mira responded, "I make a promise to all my dolls that I will never abandon them, only setting them free if they desire it. So I will have to discuss it with this doll."

The doll blinked a few times, and a look of apprehension returned to its face. "Miss? What happened?"

"I know now about Agatha. Tell me, little one, why did you come to me, then?"

The doll looked around then spoke in a pleading voice, "Serving Agatha was so very hard, trying to share a body, and this one was so frustrated, hoping a Witch with her own body would help things."

Mira nodded. "I see. It was wrong to withhold that, but I won't punish you for it now. But I do need to know if you want to continue to serve me."

The doll seemed relieved. "This one would very much like to continue to, Miss!"

Mira looked it in the eyes. "Okay." She paused before speaking again, "Well, this arrangement could work, but we're going to need two things. First, a willingness from you to share your body with Agatha as needed. Second, Agatha has requested her own doll, for her own magic."

The doll looked a bit overwhelmed. "This one is willing to work with Agatha on sharing, as long as it can continue to serve you. But it cannot help with Miss Agatha's need for her own doll."

Mira called out, "Dolls! I want all of you back here."

The dolls quickly returned to the room.

"I have been afforded the opportunity to do ritual work that requires two Witches. But the second Witch is a spirit-form which resides in the head of this doll here," spoke Mira, gesturing to the doll in question.

She continued, "The second Witch needs her own doll."

An older doll, the oldest one in Mira's service, stepped forward. "Miss, this one would like more information about this arrangement."

Mira said, "It is the best way out of a quandary, but whichever doll volunteers --- if any --- will be under Agatha's service, not mine."

The older doll spoke, solemnly, "This one has been in your service for a long time and understands magic well. It had sensed Agatha's presence within these walls. It would like to do one final act of service to Miss by volunteering, so Miss may do rituals with a second Witch."

Mira took the older doll's hand. "If this is your choice, then I thank you for this final act of service. And I will give you over to serve Agatha, after I say goodbye to you properly."

The older doll nodded and looked longingly at Mira.

Mira lovingly ran her hands through the older doll's hair, slowly, gently and kissed it on the forehead. "For a few moments, be Still, one last time, for me."

And it was.

#microfiction #writing #empty spaces #threats #dissociation #plurality #D/s

[incorrigibill]

It all seems different now. Not smaller exactly, but contained in a way, like a lego set you have nearly completed. The number of parts is exactly the same (hopefully) as when you tore open the package and dumped them on the floor, but the way they fit together now takes up less space, at least in your head. In this case though, you have not been working to assemble it. Not consciously. You have been drifting in and out of this giant room, leaving pieces here and there, qui e li (quee a lee). You have felt frustrated at times, wondering if this giant mess in your mind would ever come together. You’ve wandered off countless times and somehow made it even messier.

And then you wandered again, slower this time, and without purpose. Alone. You lingered and circled and stared at things you knew you had seen weeks, if not months before. But still you stared. You never touched your phone. Not once. And magically, this day, it all came together, from on high, a place you would have never suspected and nearly missed.

But you didn’t. You didn’t miss it. You didn’t listen to that little voice in your head that was saying it wasn’t even ancient. That it was just a tourist attraction. That you had things to do. You have learned this about yourself, finally. The little voice, the one that criticizes and judges and urges onward at times, is not actually you. And it often is the thing keeping you from finding the answer you need.

I am sitting at Caffe Greco, on Via Condotti, near the Spanish Steps, which I see towering above me from my table on the street. But those are not actually the steps! The towering parts are the dual bell towers of the Trinità dei Monti, the Church of the Most Holy Trinity on the Mounts. But when you say the Spanish Steps, I bet most people think of the beautiful towers at the top of the steps. Or maybe it is just me.

I am the first to sit outside today and have the little street patio of Caffe Greco all to myself. It is the oldest bar in Rome, by which I mean a place for coffee, or a cafe. It opened in 1760 and its patrons have included dozens of noteworthy intellectuals and writers including Keats, Byron, Goethe, Schopenhauer, and especially Ibsen, my favorite of the “ancients.” But even Mann and Joyce and Twain were here. And it is not hard to see why. It is a beautiful cafe and exactly my color scheme too—red walls, red upholstery and just the right amount of dark wood accents throughout. And it is curious inside too. Little passages and nooks and some larger rooms too. Something for everyone.

I tried to find a place inside—it was a bit chilly outside—but today nothing seemed right to me. I’m grateful that I persisted in my search and wandered back outside. Sometimes in Rome, a mere ten minutes can seem to have a temperature change of nearly the same amount. And when I looked up towards the steps and saw the bright blue sky without a cloud to be seen, I put my piccolo piquadro bag down and gazed at the tips of the bell towers, which seemed almost ablaze in the sun.

When a waiter finally emerged from inside, I had already done my homework for my order. I pointed to my phone and the picture I had taken moments before and said “Come si chiama?” “Fagottino,” he said and then waited for me to respond. “Crema? Ricotta?” I asked. “Ricotta, si, un something something, raisin, caramel,” he said. Two kinds. I of course asked for un caffe and the something, something, raisin, caramel. He nodded and was off and I took out my blue book, the one that is nearly full now, and started scribbling, which is an accurate description of my handwriting on a cool morning.

When I crossed the Tiber earlier, I remembered this street. I remembered too seeing the huge Lego store and the Ferrari store further back. And much further back, near what I now call the Piazza Cavour—and then called the Supreme Court building—I happened by the French bistro that my friend Walid had pointed out my first or second week here some two months ago now. That I had not even seen it since then tells you much about human beings and their tendencies towards tighter and tighter rings, especially if you knew how close it actually is to the CEA center where I go several days a week. It all seemed so disconnected then and so vast. A clear idea of things seemed it might never emerge.

But it did, yesterday. I had planned to go to the Baths of Caracalla with Jason in the early afternoon, but when he cancelled to get some grading done, I thought I would enjoy wandering back there anyway. The last time I was there was over thirty years ago and I do recall being impressed then with the intricate tile work and the enormity of it all. If there is one thing you need to give the early Romans credit for, it is thinking big. But as I took the first few steps out of my apartment, I found myself veering towards the Piazza di Popolo and Via del Corso, and the idea of the baths seemed to just drift away. I do not know exactly what drives me at times, but I know it is not ruins or antiquity. It is something much more alive.

I love Via del Corso. It is such a modern experience in so many ways. So many shops. So many people wandering the streets. It reminds me of the Minnesota State Fair streets, packed with people, seemingly purposeless—out for a stroll and some window shopping. But after being in Pompei and the areas around the Forum, I wonder if it hasn’t always been this way. People always seem to be drawn to other people, and of course a little food and maybe a little something nice.

Via del Corso also draws a straight line from Piazza di Popolo all the way to the Victor Emmanuel Monument, also known as Altare della Patria (Altar of the Fatherland). It is impossible to miss from almost anywhere along the street. The enormity of it and the enormous winged equestrian sculptures flanking the ends soar over the city below. As I looked back over my shoulder toward the Piazza di Popolo and its central obeslisk, I was reminded of Jan’s Roman history class and his comments about the public spaces in ancient Rome and how they were often positioned to visually connect and align with other prestigious spaces and places to increase the status and prestige of the new monument. (And especially the new monument’s honoree). It was ever thus.

That feeling became much more pronounced when I decided traverse all of Via del Corso and to climb the stairs at the Victor Emmanuel. I had been by it before on the way to the Forum, and on the way home from the Colossium, and other times too. Yet I had never climbed the stairs. It had seemed kind of ridiculous then, vaguely like watching the Yankees on your phone while you are sitting in the stadium. That isn’t exactly right, I know, but it seemed like a cheap distraction then, a decidedly tourist thing to do. But I had nothing better to do, I had seen all this before I said to myself, and I did want to see what the Piazza di Popola looked like from way up there. So up I went.

And it was lovely. I decided to climb to the upper terrace level, above the sculpture of Victorious Victor on his high horse. It wasn’t much of a climb but I was surprised at my latent resistance to follow the excited crowds. So I did it anyway. Sometimes you just have to take total control of yourself. And that view was amazing too. The Piazza di Popolo obelisk is very faint from here, not nearly as visible as Victor from there, which says something I think, about “the people” versus “the one,” who always seems to be higher and more visible no matter what the circumstances nor the era.

I thought right then that this day, which earlier seemed the epitome of a broken play, with the misfire and the change of plans, and then the other change of plans—the randomness of it all combined with the unexpected—had suddenly become almost the pinnacle of the trip. The place where the pieces finally came together into a more coherent whole, all while doing nothing to force it. It reminded me of the article Abe Flexner once wrote about the usefulness of useless information. Sometimes, maybe most times, the real breakthroughs come when your mind is elsewhere and you are simply a creature in the world.

But even creatures will need to find an exit from the top of the Victor’s High Horse. In the post-Covid era, the idea of an exit as something different from a reverse entrance has taken firm hold. I tried to go back down the same stairs I ascended but was stopped and redirected. And then found another set and asked the police officer where the exit was—uscita? I must’ve said it just right because she launched into full blown high-speed Italian, gestures included, and all I could do was say “Si, Si, Si—grazie,” and move away, still confused but more like a local than a foreigner. I followed a stream of people into a small stairway, and then a passageway, and emerged back into the open air with what seemed the same scenic views. But they were not.

I walked up to the edge and looked out and immediately saw the Colosseum. And tracing a line back from there, went right over the Forum and all those places within that space that we had stopped and listened to Jan wax not exactly poetic, but perhaps emphatic, about anything and everything in that place. Suddenly, almost shockingly, all of Rome—my Rome—snapped into place. Piazza di Popola to Vittorio Emmanuel to the Colosseum to the Forum and even the Spanish Steps. I stepped back for a few minutes and then took it all in again. It is all of a piece now. Interconnected. Linked. I finally have a sense of what I’ve been walking through and around for nearly three months.

With the newfound enthusiasm of a model almost complete, I simply had to backtrack to the Pantheon and the Piazza Navonna on my way home and snap them into place too. They are very familiar pieces and I could almost put them on blind-folded, but I did it anyway and then went back to the Piazza di Popola just to make a full circle. Because my circle is almost complete too. I head home in less than two weeks and now I feel like I can carry all of this back with me. Finally.

(By the way, that pastry above, the fagottino—most delicious thing I’ve had in Rome.)

[guaxinimraccoon]

jesus christ why-

oh mY DEAR GOD-

FIRST OF ALL I'm SO sorry for taking so damn long to answer those, I've been really really busy and I'm very sorry, I'm doing my best to answer everybody ; o ;

BUT FINALLY let's talk about our big last Euphoria reveal (about four months ago but ok-), where I showed you guys that Alex is Brad's father and Elisa is Toby's mom.

"BUT GUAX WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK??? HOW?? WHEN??? WHERE??"

SHUSH , CALM YOUR TITS DOWN and let me explain:

Ok, so I'll be putting some links here and there because yes, Alex and Elisa's story is very, VERY connected to Brad and Toby's. 

And get ready for a veeeeeeeeeeeeery long post. You were warned.

As you all already know, Alex and Elisa had a troublesome meeting, but eventually got closer to each other, they fell in love yadda yadda yadda BUT their will to get closer to each other, in other words, their relationship brought HUGE consequences.

Yes, they did manage to build a healthy relationship, they were happy, they were fine.

But they were also adults, adults that wanted something serious and concrete, they couldn't spend the rest of their lives as forbbiden lovers.

So Elisa did something literally illegal. She did a potion that was forbidden by the Colony authorities - a shrunken potion - to get closer to Alex.

Those potions were never developed, they're rustic and really antique, so they could do more harm than good or not work at all.

But Alex didn't care, he took the risk and drank the potion to get closer to his girl, the woman that was the love of his life.

The effect of the potion is temporary, so Alex would drink them from time to time whenever he had the opportunity to visit the Colony, spend some time with Elisa and, of course, be a part of her life.

He wasn't just trying to "be like her", he was also trying to be a part of her home. He made friends with her friends, he met her family, he met new imps, new fairies, all of it under his "imp disguise". He even fought for the Colony at it's war times (that is lasting till the current story time). He EVEN presented himself with a more “impish name” - Turk - to make sure people wouldn’t suspect anything.

Of course, people eventually started to ask why didn’t he live in the Colony with Elisa, why did he only showed up from time to time. Alex and Elisa lied, obviously, they told everyone that Alex belonged to a secluded imp tribe that lived walking around the forest as nomads, which made sense since those types of imp communities do exist.

ANYWAY THE POINT IS Alex grew affectioned of those people and with their lifestyle. He started to feel like he was one of them. 

And, of course, he was now closer than he ever was to Elisa.

Since they were different species, they never worried about having kids. I’ve never said this before but Alex is a doctor, he knows about this stuff, so he always made sure to reassure Elisa that "they were their own condon" and, as sad as it may sound, they couldn't have kids.

... Or so Alex thought.

You know how tigers and lions can have offspring together? Yeah, it's the same thing.

It's very hard to happen, but they spent YEARS together if you know what I mean so yeah

That's how Alex and Elisa gave birth to their first child: Tobias, the only one of a specie that is a mix between human and imp.

His parents were really worried at first, afterall, they new NOTHING about Toby's condition. They didn't know if he was going to grow as large as a human or if he'd assume imp proportions forever. After some research with his son's blood, Alex found out that Toby was indeed half human and half imp, but he was predominantly physically an imp. That means his biological features are, mostly, imp like: he'd hardly grow as large as a human through his life's course and could live as a normal imp in the Colony. The fact that he showed talent for magic (once he was old enough to do so) and was able to do it just like any other imp in the Colony also made things easier.

Elisa and Alex chose to raise Toby in the Colony, they believed it’d be healthier and safer for him (especially after some events that I’ll be talking about in other posts), although it hurt Alex to pretend that he was an imp to his son and that he couldn’t see him everyday. 

Even if they couldn’t see each other everyday, Alex and Toby were very close. Toby loved his daddy very much and was very attached to him.

After five years after Toby was born, Elisa got pregnant again and gave birth to their second child: Bernardo (that’d eventually be nicknamed as “Brad”), one of the two only beings of the specie Alex and Elisa accidently created together.

For preucation, Alex took a bit of Brad’s blood and made some research, just like he did to Toby.

And what he found out wasn’t exactly... relieving.

Brad, just like Toby, was half human and half imp, but he had expressed mostly human features in his physical body. He was as small as a baby imp now, but it was a matter of time until he started to grow very VERY large.

Unlike Toby, Brad couldn’t live as an imp in the Colony and things got very complicated for them.

Alex wanted to leave. He told Elisa the Colony’s community would NEVER accept their youngest, they would never accept Alex and probably wouldn’t accept Toby either. They had to leave that place before they couldn’t hide the truth anymore, even if it cost revealing Toby, a five year old child, that most of his life was a lie.

But Elisa was hesitant. She didn’t want to leave her home, her parents, her friends. She knew Alex was right, they couldn’t stand that play for too long, but how to leave everything she had built behind? How to leave everything she knew as home behind? It wasn’t that easy.

Until something very bad happened.

Remember I said Alex made a few friends in the Colony? So, one of them was Stefan, a experienced fairy soldier that had known Elisa for as long as she was alive. He was pretty much her best friend (even if he was old enough to be her father) and now he was also great friends with Alex.

Stefan is important here. He has a very tragic backstory involving humans. He lost pretty much everything to them: his whole family and his wings, something that meant more than just flying to him.

So, as expected, he hates humans and truly believes that they are nothing more than monsters that try to manipulate you and to get advantage from imp’s and fairy’s magic. 

After some years, he started to get very suspicious over Alex. Some things weren’t making any sense anymore and that “nomad imp community” was starting to sound way more like an excuse than the actual truth. He simply didn’t understand what was stopping him to live with Elisa and his sons for once.

So he did some investigation. One day, he followed Alex (that he knew as Turk) out of the Colony, in one of the days he had only come to visit his family. Alex had said earlier that he had to “go back to his own society”. Yeah, right. Stefan was hiding the whole time and followed Alex till a good distane from the Colony’s limits. 

And he didn’t get exaclty happy to see his best friend growing impossibly huge out of nowhere.

Stefan now knew the truth: Alex was pretending to be an imp using shrinking potions. He didn’t belong to any nomad imp group, he was a human that lived in his own house and was coming to the Colony to play family with them.

Of course, he didn’t only felt betrayed, but pissed as fuck. Stefan didn’t waste any time: as soon as Alex came back to the Colony he confronted him. Alex tried to explain himself, but they only argued and ended up having a pretty bad fight.

In anger, Stefan didn’t want to hear no more explanations, so he told some of the Colony’s high authorities about Alex’s lies and that they had to do something about it. 

The Colony’s Council decided to call Elisa and solve things between imps and fairies only. But they showed her no mercy.

They basically gave her two options: or she’d prove her loyalty to the Colony and would kill her husband and her human son, or the Colony would sentence all of them to death penalty, including Toby and Brad, children that they claimed should have never been born. 

Elisa was in shatters. She didn’t know what to do. She couldn’t kill the man she loved and her baby child, she just couldn’t. She was about to accept the second option, rathering die with her family than killing them, but Stefan decided to help her out.

He wasn’t expecting the Council to be so cruel and he started to regret his decisions the moment he saw how Elisa was worried about her family and how much she loved them, even if they were human. He hated Alex and Brad, but seeing Elisa in excruciating pain over them was impossible for him, so he made up a plan with her to save everybody.

It cost Elisa to trust Stefan, he had told their secrets to the worst people possible, but she had no option aside from accepting his help and following his plan.

The plan was simple: Elisa would tell the Council she’d kill Alex and Brad and would tell Alex that she had changed her mind and that they should leave the Colony as soon as possible now that Stefan knew the truth.

Alex believed her and, after Stefan’s confirmation, so the Council did. The next step was to take Alex and Brad to the Colony’s limits, pretending they were about to leave. 

Then it happened.

Elisa made, with Stefan’s help, a huge barrier on the Colony’s frontier that didn’t allowed humans to cross it. It was basically a security method that they never thought it’d be necessary.

But now it was and it wasn’t meant to protect the ones inside the Colony...

Of course, Alex didn’t understand SHIT.

He spent MONTHS returning to the Colony in his shrinking form, trying to find a way to cross the barrier and to get Toby back. 

Or to talk to Elisa.

Or to understand.

Or anything.

He just wanted his family.

Eventually, his potions ended and he was left to raise Brad on his own and to never see his wife and oldest son again.

Since then, he hates Elisa. Or at least thinks he does. He’s just deeply mad at her, he doesn’t understand why she left them. 

He did everything for her. Denyed his own race, submitted himself to the dangerous effects of a extremely nocive potion which he faces the consequences till this day, did his fucking best to be the best father and husband his family could have-

All this love, all this effort, all this sweat and blood

Wasted.

It took years for him to fully recover. Aside from the health problems the abusive use of the shrinking potions brought, he also became alcohoolic. Because he wasn’t mentally estable enough, neither to take care of himself and of his very very small son, he went to live in his parents house. His family knew about Elisa and the children they had together, his folks actually liked her a lot so it saddened them as well that she simply abandoned Alex and Brad and that they would never see Toby again.

His family didn’t had to worry about Brad’s very little size for too long though, before he was one year old he had already reached his human size.

Anyway, Alex’s family gave him a huge help until he was healthy enough to take care of Brad, the only one left from the family he built.

Back to Elisa, she didn’t told Alex her plan because she KNEW he wouldn’t want to do it. She simply knew Alex would be too stubborn. He’d have wanted to try to escape or to face the Council. Both alternatives would get them all killed.

Toby didn’t understand why his mother did what she did. He was forced to go back home with her, screaming the whole time, saying that they left his father and brother behind while Elisa was crying endelessly.

Stefan came to them eventually and calmed Toby down. His heart broke when he saw Elisa. She was... not okay.

Unfortunately, he didn’t have time to assist her. He immediatly went to a representent of the Council and took them to Elisa and to the Colony’s frontier to prove that she had done it and did even more than she was suppose to. Of course, not without consequences to her sanity, she had just killed her husband and baby, of course she was in pain.

Nevertheless, the Council confirmed Elisa had done her part and left to leave her alone with the child they let live.

After that, Toby spent weeks returning to that spot of the frontier to look for his dad and brother. No sucess.

As time went by, he eventually forgot about Brad, he was very young when they tore apart and Elisa and Stefan never talked about him nor Alex. All he can remember is that there was a baby in the middle of that mess, but he can’t relate to it.

He kept the memories of his father though, who was closer to him, and till this day he believes he’s alive somewhere and that he can be found. But he has no idea he’s a human and has no idea of his own true nature.

Elisa and Alex miss their respective sons deeply and think about them everyday. They also miss each other very much and the first months after the incident were terribly agonizing for the both of them.

They kept going for the child that had remained for the both of them and raised them apart from each other. Alex never told Brad what happened and so Elisa did to Toby. Like that, none of the brothers knew about the existence of each other.

Until the day Toby was sent, coincidentally, to his “little” brother’s house

And none of them has no idea of this fucking long backstory I just spent four months writing :)

enjoy

#g/t #giant/tiny #size difference #g/t community #euphoria #euphoria backstory #alex #elisa #alelisa #brad #toby #oh my sweet GOSH #my fingers hurt my hand hurt help #sorry for the fucking one mile long post #but this was going to happen sooner or later #i guess #there are a bunch of little details here and there but I had to be #objective #yes this was me being objective #my friends hate me #also sorry for any grammatical errors #my english sucks