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thoughtsbydorian · 1 day

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Random Hazbin HCs cause I can’t sleep

- The cannibals don’t have eyes because they eat them after they regenerate. Cannibal town works so well because no one actually dies they just take turns being eaten before regenerating. Cannibals are NOT hellborn, rather most of them are victorian folks who indulged in the mummy craze.

- Molly died before angel dust, i think she died in a shooting because of the mafia when they were teens/young adults. Hence why Molly was never really involved in the family business and I think it could also account for Angel’s turn to illicit substances.

- Angel and Husk knew each other in life, maybe even hooked up briefly. Husk is actually the younger of the two but not by a lot.

- Charlie used to have another group of sinner friends but they were all killed in the first extermination.

- Angel and Alastor are the only ones of the main crew who were never married in life.

- Nifty got married her senior year of high school and did her best to be the perfect wife. She had some fertility issues and had mental breakdown, causing her husband and family to have her institutionalized. After a while she escaped and took out her rage on her husband and her older cousin who he was cheating on her with. She ended up setting the house on fire and causing a small explosion in which she lost an eye. However she tried to continue her rampage, going to her parents where her father was the one who shot her down.

- Vaggie was never alive. Rather she was created to care for children souls in heaven before she was recruited to be an exorcist. Part of the reason she became an exorcist was to protect the kids. She was under the impression that all children went to heaven. Though when she went to kill the cannibal kid, she realized she was wrong and the system was far more flawed than she realized.

- Angel was a an overlord under his father for the first few years he was in hell (leaving after he realized that he didn’t need to pretend he wasn’t gay anymore)

- Every so often Charlie locks her self away to cry about the idea of losing all here friends

- Alastor has a very strict moral code when it comes to who he kills. He only kills those who take advantage or abuse of others. Which is why he didn’t kill Husk when he could’ve.

- Nifty and Alastor would tag team Valentino so hard

- Part of the reason Vaggie didn’t put together that Angelic weapons could harm angels is because she thought she had already fallen before her eye was cut out. She thought the mere thought of questioning the system made her fall.

- Valentino has a major superiority complex, so he thinks he’s the one in charge of the Vees when in reality he’s the last person to be consulted on big decisions.

- Vox was a small local news reporter with dreams of going national. Unfortunately that never happened as he was killed by a falling set piece on live, making him more famous in his death than in his life.

- Sir Pentious had two sons when he was alive. One lived well into adulthood, the other died when he was barely a teen from typhoid or some other old timey disease. It’d be the same disease the Pent ends up dying from. Though not before he starts obsessing over how to cure it, his other son continues his work and ends up discovering the vaccine for it.

- Pentious was a snake’s oil salesman for most of his life.

- Nifty had a lobotomy in life

- If others hadn’t been there, the val and charlie would’ve ended much differently(she was ready to kill him before angie stopped her)

- Charlie has tried to cut her hair short(like pixie) multiple times but whenever she loses control of her powers it just grows back, the only loophole for some reason being and undercut or side cut. as long as the hair on the crown of her head is long it’s fine.

- Alastor’s mom was a teen mom; my brain says 13 or 14. Her parents kicked her out after they found out she was pregnant forcing her to become fully dependent on her (now) husband. They had a shotgun wedding and a really tumultuous marriage. His dad left them both when he was 5 or 6. He also isn’t an only child though i’m not sure if he has a younger sibling or older. probably younger.

- Husk’s actual name is Jack, it’s part of his deal with Alastor that his old name was sold to Alastor. Him and anyone who knew him as Jack have completely forgotten it, they know his past but think he’s always been Husk. I’d like to think if he or anyone else rediscovers his name the deal would broken, kind rumplstisken vibes.

- Quite a lot of the sinners had kids in life, most of them assume that their kids ended up in heaven.

- Sir Pentious’ sons did end up in heaven and recognized him instantly and was elated to see his dad after so long.

#hazbin hotel husk #controversial hazbin hotel takes #hazbin valentino #hazbin hotel headcanon #hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #hazbin angel dust #hazbin vox #hazbin charlie #hazbin vaggie #hazbin niffty #hazbin sir pentious

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bethanydelleman · 7 months

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Does Jane Austen usually use the word plain to describe someone as Ugly?

I have assembled as many relevant quotes (see below) as I could find in Austen's works and I have a pretty good idea that "plain" is the opposite of handsome/pretty.

Etymoline agrees, "Of appearance, as a euphemism for "ill-favored, ugly" it dates from 1749."

One thing to add, there are many vaccine-preventable childhood illnesses, smallpox among them (which was being vaccinated for but this was new), that could cause permanent facial scarring. I'll put a mild example below the jump (do not Google if you are squeamish). I wonder if some of the "plain" people that Jane Austen was imagining were plain for this reason. Also, Sir Walter talks about plain women in Bath, but as it was a health destination, he may be seeing people who are actually ill.

Facial scarring from smallpox

Pride & Prejudice

Mary, who having, in consequence of being the only plain one in the family, worked hard for knowledge and accomplishments, was always impatient for display.

Not that I think Charlotte so very plain; but then she is our particular friend... Oh dear, yes; but you must own she is very plain. Lady Lucas herself has often said so, and envied me Jane’s beauty. (Mrs. Bennet)

Sense & Sensibility

When their promised visit to the Park and consequent introduction to these young ladies took place, they found in the appearance of the eldest, who was nearly thirty, with a very plain and not a sensible face, nothing to admire

Mansfield Park

Her brother was not handsome: no, when they first saw him he was absolutely plain, black and plain; but still he was the gentleman, with a pleasing address.

In a quiet way, very little attended to, she paid her tribute of admiration to Miss Crawford’s beauty; but as she still continued to think Mr. Crawford very plain, in spite of her two cousins having repeatedly proved the contrary, she never mentioned him.

She was then merely a quiet, modest, not plain-looking girl, but she is now absolutely pretty.

Emma

She was a plain, motherly kind of woman, who had worked hard in her youth

Oh! not handsome—not at all handsome. I thought him very plain at first, but I do not think him so plain now.

He is very plain, undoubtedly—remarkably plain:—but that is nothing compared with his entire want of gentility

Miss Campbell always was absolutely plain—but extremely elegant and amiable.

Mr. Dixon, you say, is not, strictly speaking, handsome?”

“Handsome! Oh! no—far from it—certainly plain. I told you he was plain.” “My dear, you said that Miss Campbell would not allow him to be plain, and that you yourself—” “Oh! as for me, my judgment is worth nothing. Where I have a regard, I always think a person well-looking. But I gave what I believed the general opinion, when I called him plain.”

Persuasion

He hoped she might make some amends for the many very plain faces he was continually passing in the streets.

Miss Carteret, with still less to say, was so plain and so awkward, that she would never have been tolerated in Camden Place but for her birth.

“I think very differently,” answered Elizabeth, shortly; “an agreeable manner may set off handsome features, but can never alter plain ones."

#jane austen #question response #vaccines are the best ya'll #plain #word use #jane austen is too polite to call people “ugly”

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tulipscomeinallsortsofcolors · 2 years

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Goodbye

A witch and familiar are the dwelling of a single soul in two bodies.

A familiar, alone, is just a cat.

Pairing: LAMP but its not the focus and roman and patton are not present.

Word count: 1770

Warnings: Major Character Death, both past and depicted. Animal/pet death, euthanasia, grief, funerals.

Notes: part of my Love and other Fairytales verse, taking place 80 years after the end of the main story

thank you to @airiervessel for beta-reading

---

Trinity knew the Sanders better than most.

Not well. She had a feeling she’d known them better when she was a child, because her great uncles Corbin and Sloane had brought her around some, let her play with DJ and Seth. DJ had even deigned to use her blessing for Trinity a few times.

They’d died when she was just eight, and Grandma Chloe had never been as close with the Sanders as her cousin.

Dizzy made up some of her favorite memories from those early times. She’d loved that cat, her smart sass and the way Mr. Gage talked to her like she was no cat at all.

Trinity was close enough to them to know the truth.

Nowadays, she wondered if that’s why they’d picked her.

For weeks after the funeral, no one saw the Sanders. The old flower shop stayed shuttered and dark. Not a glimpse of the prince. Not even Kit and Remus, manning the Gage family’s stall of apples and eggs, normally a fixture of the farmer’s market every Saturday.

And then, Trinity came to open the clinic, and there was Mr. Sanders, sitting on the wooden steps – a cat carrier under his arm.

She came up to the door cautiously.

“Hey, Mr. Sanders,” she said.

“Good morning. Do you take walk-ins?”

“... I’ll see if I can fit you in,”

Dizzy was a cat with no records, no chip, no files to speak of. Trinity knew why – those were probably lost to time, decades past in some ancient computer in a dump somewhere or more incredulously, on paper. Dizzy had outlived every vet who’d ever touched her, but she wouldn’t outlive Trinity.

“So are we just here for a vaccine update?”

“She needs to be fixed,” said Mr. Sanders quietly. “And chipped.”

Trinity hesitated.

“Okay,” she said carefully. “Chip I can definitely do today, you won’t even need to make an appointment. Fixing- fixing’s a little more complicated-”

“I figured I would have to make a second appointment.”

“It’s- it’s not just that, Mr. Sanders.”

“Please, Trinity,” said Logan. “It’s Logan.”

“Logan,” she said softly. “Dizzy... Dizzy is so old. I don’t know... the anesthetic, she might...”

Logan looked like she was killing him, and Trinity had learned, a bit, to compartmentalize that in this job, but this-

Nearly the whole town had come to Mr. Waller’s funeral. Again, to Mr. Gage’s. Dizzy had been at the first, but not the second.

Logan took a deep breath, petting Dizzy with a miserable smile.

“She requested it,” he said, his voice level in spite of the fact that he was now crying freely. “I promised.”

“And there’s no way to... ask?”

“No,” he said. “For better or worse, Dizzy’s sentient mind left with- with Roman. This- we still love her, make no mistake. But she is a cat. No more or less.”

That- that hurt. Trinity had figured that Dizzy would not last long without Roman, but to have her mind stripped away seemed unnecessarily cruel. And the rest of the family, left to mourn them both even when only one was fully gone.

“Okay,” said Trinity. “I will do my very best to respect her last wishes, Logan.”

“Thank you, Trinity.”

She could only hope her best was enough.

---

Dizzy was a model patient. The Sanders were model clients. She made it through her surgery beautifully, and Trinity had almost cried herself when all four of them showed up, Logan and the prince and Kit and Remus, and cuddled her drowsy form close, ecstatic. For weeks afterwards Trinity saw shadowy, bright-eyed Cait Sidhe all around the clinic – all their surgeries went flawlessly, all their meds worked perfectly, and Trinity herself found her bike had never worked better.

For the next year, they brought her for regular – and slightly too-frequent, but Trinity could hardly fault their nerves – check ups. Dizzy was everyone’s favorite.

She’d known. Right from the very first day, Trinity had seen an old, old, cat, and known she was on borrowed time.

“It’s kidney failure,” she said quietly.

The prince didn’t normally bring Dizzy to these appointments – usually it was Logan or Kit. He looked out of place in their rickety chair, cuddling her.

“And what does that mean?” he said, and Trinity pushed and shoved and compartmentalized, because that’s what she had to do.

“Even if I treat her as aggressively as I can, she would get very sick, and be in a lot of pain, if...”

He looked up at her, and the eye contact made Trinity’s heart pick up a staccato beat of terror before she beat it back down again with reason.

“...If we don’t euthanize her.”

Trinity held her breath, unsure and more than a bit terrified of how he’d respond to such a statement.

“Relax, Trinny,” he said, because while Logan seemed to have properly recorded the passage of time, the prince couldn’t seem to untangle the child on her great-uncle's knee from the woman in front of him. She didn’t fault him for it. “I’m familiar with the concept of mercy killing.”

Trinity didn’t flinch, but it was a near thing. She believed in the rightness of putting animals down instead of leaving them to languish and suffer, could never have done this job if she didn’t, but few called it so bluntly what it was.

“Do you do house calls?”

Trinity hesitated – no, normally, or at least not for non-farm animals.

“Please,” he said quietly. “She has children. A mate. They should be with her.”

The prince did not cry, but Trinity wondered if she might.

“Of course.”

It was late. Off the clock. Trinity had known she’d want this to be the last thing she had to do today, to go home and process it with the gravity it would need.

She started crying as she approached the house, and she remembered that too, the way Kit cried and everyone would cry with her. She figured it wasn’t going to stop, so she pushed through, climbing up the steps and knocking on the door.

DJ opened it, and Trinity wasn’t expecting that. She was gestured in with a sad smile. It seemed like the entie clan was here - DJ’s brother Seth, their elderly parents Brian and Augustine, Kit and Logan and the prince and Remus, his partner and what Trinity could only assume were their children, a gaggle of little fae children, one of which looked less than preschool-age and whose tiny, hiccuping sobs were like getting repeatedly poked with a needle.

All crowded in the living room around a little cat bed, five Cait Sidhe of varying sizes and eldritch levels laying in a cat pile on Dizzy. All the humans and Logan wore black – the prince, Kit, Remus, and his family were in white.

This was a funeral.

“Sorry,” muttered Trinity, wiping her face.

“It’s fine, kid, my fault,” said Kit, and Trinity would have raised a brow at being called ‘kid’ by someone who looked ten years younger than Trinity’s thirty, if she didn’t remember that same twenty year old face looking down at her at six.

“Take as much time as you want,” she said. “I’ve got nowhere to be after this. I’m gonna go get some water.”

Call it a tactical retreat.

As soon as the words were out of her mouth a fresh wave of tears welled up, and Trinity fled to the kitchen. She braced herself on the counter, choking on secondhand sobs – but they weren’t secondhand, because Trinity felt like she was reliving every euthanasia she’d ever done all over again, at once and tenfold. She clawed at her chest, an empty, yawning chasm of grief threatening to swallow her completely.

Someone folded her hand around a glass, pressing it to her mouth, and Trinity took grateful gulps of the cold water. Someone was holding her other hand, stroking the thumb back and forth.

The water helped, and she found herself staring at the pink and green nymph, the in-law. The pronouns were escaping her at the moment.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” said Trinity. “Yes, I- sorry, that was unprofessional.”

The nymph watched her solemnly with gray-purple eyes.

“You are a healer,” said the nymph. “I think empathy is your profession.”

Trinity let out a weak, startled laugh.

“Hey.”

It was DJ in the door.

“We’re... we’re ready.”

Trinity wondered if they’d sent one of the humans to say it because the fae wouldn’t have been able to.

The Cait Sidhe were still piled on Dizzy. Logan, Kit, and the son had laid down on their sides around her, and Trinity didn’t dare ask them to move as she carefully stepped between them and kneeled, pulling out her syringes.

The paler tortie Cait Sidhe launched forward, hissing and spitting angrily, and before Trinity could leap out of her skin the orange male wrestled her back.

“Um-”

“It’s fine,” said Logan. “Dusty is just emotional. She’s- she’s very close with her mother. She won’t attack you again.”

After that, it was almost routine, aside from the fact that Trinity was still weeping. The click and uncap. The sedatives first, just like falling asleep. The final draw. The hand on her tiny furred chest, holding for the heartbeat until it stopped.

“She’s gone,” she said wetly.

The littlest fae girl wailed, and the windows rattled ominously. Kit scooped her up and cuddled her close, her sobs redoubling, and the Cait Sidhe picked up miserable wails in echo of them.

Trinity stood, fruitlessly rubbing her face. She stepped back to give them space, and the prince stood as well.

“Let me walk you out,” he said softly.

She followed automatically, because one didn’t just not listen to the lord of the forest – he was basically the whole town’s scary cryptid uncle – but she turned the sound of his voice over in her mind.

Cold, but not unfeeling. Bleak. Haunted.

At her car, he thanked her again, and Trinity couldn’t stop herself from speaking.

“You did the right thing,” she said.

He stared at her, his face blank and impassive as stone.

“You did,” she repeated, steeling herself. “I know you did. I swear.”

He twitched, but otherwise didn’t react for several moments, before the corner of his mouth twitched into a wry, heartbroken smile, and a single tear escaped his shiny eyes.

“I know,” he whispered. “It... it was mercy.”

He turned, and walked back to the house, his hands stuffed into hoodie pockets older than her.

Trinity climbed into her car, set her head on the steering wheel, and wept for all of them.

---

If you like this fic, and you feel like shooting me a little tip or present, I have a ko-fi and a wishlist! I also have a patreon where you can get prioritized Q&As, previews, voting power on the next fics I work on, and at higher tiers early access to rough drafts!

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#love and other fairytales #mcd tw #major character death tw

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fouralignments · 4 months

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It's nice to see you reblogging me. Cause I'm stuck at home for 3 kings day due to my mom getting her ass kicked by the vaccines she took yesterday.

Haven't been able to leave my house this year.

So I'm watching my gay pirates show because my asshole hpmophobic Dad at work. Mom is upstairs "dying" cause of the side effects.

Drinking sparkling cider.

It's a holiday and we never got to finish the rest of bottles we didn't open on Thanksgiving, Christmas or new years. .

Got bookclub later at 5. Got an hour left

Well if it makes you feel better, I am also stuck at home for my family belated Christmas extend family party. I'd realized during cleaning up the house how much I loathe the holidays. Oh yeah, my mom is now dating and Danny is coming over.

I've got myself non-alcoholic Prohibition cocktails that I got for myself. I've been going back and forth between a walkthrough of Spider-Man: Miles Morales on Youtube, curse you Youtube and your anti-ad blocker stance and Top Chef.

As much as I love my family like my sister and her fiancé like on politics and I can be more queer, be myself. One of cousins brings the drama; but I can't be myself around my extended family. It sucks. Because during my Uncle memorial service at a Cowboy Church, I felt like I was being proselytized; I wanted to leave because I was that uncomfortable; I don't know if your area has a Cowboy Church, but think surface level cowboy aesthetics, Methodist with the megachurch vibes of evangelical.

Have a hug!

#ask 4align

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lil-gremlin-gal · 5 months

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NaClYoHo Days 17, 18, & 19

The 17th was a busy day for me. I had energy and wanted to make sure I used it while I could, so I:

gave the new cast iron pan another oven seasoning session

cleaned the microwave for the first time in forever

found some cans of paint from the previous owner of the apartment and started a paint cupboard so that our tremclad spray paint could live with its cousins

finally took clothing consignments to Plato's Closet, and

took dead appliances from the kitchen crazy cabinet and an exploded can of spray insulation to the recycling depot

Of course expending any amount of energy will result in what I call 'reckoning days', where my symptoms all surge and leave me feeling tired, crappy, and struggling to function at my usual level. After going out 2 days in a row and doing a lot of salty pirate tasks last week, the weekend took me down a peg.

My big accomplishment on the 18th was being able to unload and reload the dishwasher. It's not a lot, but I wasn't able to do that just a few weeks ago, so I am really, really grateful that I was able to make clean dishes on a reckoning day.

The 19th was similar: dishes, changed the sheets on the bed, and managed to fold towels. I managed to stay awake all day and perked up a little in the evening enough to finish making rainbow tassels for my NaClYoHo craft project. :)

On the list today is to handwash dishes, deep clean some old birdcages and a piece of furniture I need to sell, fold some laundry, and get as much rest as I can. I finally got my doctor's approval to get my COVID and flu vaccines, so that will happen this Wednesday and I need to rest up in advance.

#naclyoho #salty pirate month #disabled and doing my best #national clean your home month #huzzah for recycling

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hellodenisestuff · 7 months

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Sept 10-17, 2023

I had planned to write this blog on Substack but it got too complicated for me so I will continue these African Adventure posts on Tumblr.com.

This will be the journey to Kenya to participate in the volunteer program of African Impact in the Pardamat conservancy of the Kenya National Wildlife Reserve, Masai Mara.

What a long journey from Hawaii to Kenya. Fortunately I have a very good friend, Maggie, in Pacific who I get to visit when I am passing through San Francisco. I stayed two nights in her delightful company and rested up before the long flight to Kenya.

I arrived several days several days after I was exposed to Covid at work. I wore a mask on the flight but where 5 days had passed we thought we were safe, which proved to be true, but I was not fully comfortable till the 14th day had passed. I never got it. Hooray! Those around me could breathe a sigh of relief as well. I am vaccinated up to the gills so maybe that saved me?

Anyway, I digress. i flew KLM. airways which is marvelous. Great service. Seems they were always offering food or drink or hot towels. I watched 4 movies on the first leg which ended in Amsterdam for a three hour layover.

Because I get wheelchair service, I did not find my friend Joanne who was also traveling on the same flight to our destination in Kenya till we were ready to board the next flight for the final leg of our journey.

We got in somewhere around 10:30 PM after an aborted landing because there was debris on the landing strip! Finally after circling and losing our place in the landing line we did so.

Went thru the usual immigration and customs, again not seeing Joanne. I went outside and waited and waited, and was getting worried. A nice young soldier asked what I needed and he called the man who was to-pick us up, who was with Bonfire Adventures and tours. He found us and we waited some more. Finally Joanne appeared and we walked to the car and were driven to Masai Lodge near the town of Rongai. It is on the Southern border of the National Park. The drive took over an hour. The last 3 miles over an horrendous dirt road. We arrived around 1 AM pooped but happy to be back in Kenya.

We love that lodge. It. is mainly for the local people. Despite its name, it is run primarily by Samburu people. the Samburu are cousins to the Maasai. The lodge looks out over the Nairobi Game Park. Animals come into the large green area below the lodge which sits on a hill. There we see warthogs, antelope and baboons. There are tree hyrax and rock hyrax busy in the surrounding areas. The tree hyrax are quite used to people. Cute little creatures resembling a bunny without the long ears.

The 4 nights at the lodge allowed us to get over jet lag and start to get used to the altitude. It is like Denver, a mile high.

I was able to visit my dear friend, Dr. Paul Sayer, my colleague from teaching at the veterinary School in Nairobi back in 1967-1969. It was delightful to be with him and catch up on our lives and reminisce about the old days. (See-my book African Sojourns on Amazon.com to see what we did back then…)

The next day Joanne and I went to visit her friend, Rachel Kabue, who founded and runs The Cat Sanctuary in Nairobi. There are about 170 cats there now as she found homes for close to 130 of the most fit ones recently. Some there are very thin, and I fear may have some sort of blood parasite or Feline leukemia. However most are quite fit; they are all sweet and get along. She also has rescued a few dogs who live together with the cats. It is scrupulously clean with no odor.

Rachel, Some of the cats and dogs, Denise and friend, and Joanne and another rescue.

I spent one day sleeping a lot. Another day we had a guided walk by a Samburu man in full regalia looking very exotic and handsome in his colorful short dress like outfit with knee high socks and beaded ornaments and carrying the spear in case we ran into any aggressive animals. As it happened we only saw Impala and some monkeys and baboons. We met up with two Masai gentlemen in Western clothes who ran a nearby lodge and were friendly and fun. They all wanted photos which Joanne took but I have not got them right now. Will send next time.

The African Impact Driver came for us to transport us to Brackenhurst Conference Center in the Highlands in a town called Limuru. It is at 7000 feet so it has rather brisk evenings. It always tickles me when there, as after dinner, I come back to a bed with a hot water bottle in it. There we rested till the next morning where we would start out at 8:30 AM for the long drive to Pardamat.

I will write more tomorrow about the first week at the volunteer placement.

#hellodenisestuff

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medicated-au · 1 year

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So, uh, here are some random questions...

Did Anne get hallucinations when the Boonchuy brought her to the doctor? Heh it's amusing to imagine high Anne

Does Medicated!Hop Pop hate being a freeloader? If so, was it because of Cousin Stanley's visit?

So, Anne is slightly more responsible in this fic, has she been trusted by Hop Pop to drive Bessie during Newtopia trip? Given the 'Anne Theft Auto' debacle

Did 'Children of Spore' already happen? I'm not sure if this has already happened, but we know how kids are

Are Sprig and Ivy already dating? I'm also not sure if this has already happened in this fic

Did Sal, Monroe, MicroAngelo, or Barry already appear or be mentioned in Medicated? I know they have a minor plot, but I'm just curious, especially with Hop Pop's old friend and rival

In Medicated, did the amphibian have a "holiday" like in 'The Shut-In!' episode? Making fear gourds, telling scary stories, etc?

And last, did you two already read Marcy's Journal? Will it change anything in this fic?

Sorry if there are too many :P

I (Opin88) just woke up and saw this! Okay, let's see what my freshly woken up brain can do to answer these questions!

She didn't get any hallucinations because all they did was a physical and get her her vaccines. There's no anaesthetic in any of those, so she didn't get high this time around.

He does indeed hate it and yes, it was because of cousin Stanley. However, he never felt like one in this AU because of how often he helped out with household chores. He was practically a live-in maid for the Boonchuys!

Short answer: yes. Anne Theft Auto did kinda happen 'cause Anne got frustrated with Hop Pop's rules and Bessie's manual. She figured it was almost like he made it super boring on purpose and that was unfair. So of course, she took Bessie out without reading it and well... you can guess what happened from there.

Children of the Spore did indeed happen. The only real difference between canon and AU on this one was Anne being coated in a frog themed coat of paint. That's why we didn't put it into a chapter. But yes, it happened!

As much as I hate the shipping of children, yes they're dating. We referenced it in chapter 16, after all.

We didn't mention Sal, Monroe, or Barry yet. I'm pretty sure MicroAngelo got mentioned somewhere, but I'm actually not 100% certain.

The Shut-in is very much a thing in this AU. I mean, that's how the story of The Newtopian Book Beast spread, isn't it?

I've gotten the journal and I finished reading it in about 3.5 hours after getting it. As for @silly-sketchy... the place we ordered it from doesn't ship to her country, so we had it shipped to my place and then I mailed it to her. She's received the package, but hasn't opened it yet because she's been busy. As for it possibly changing something...

WE'VE BEEN USING THE WORD "NYMPH" FOR THE WHOLE FIC!! AAAAAHHHH!!

In all seriousness, it actually already did change something in chapter 32. Specifically the description of how it felt for Anne to use her blue powers with the portal like that.

#medicated au #ask

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coffeedrgn87 · 1 year

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December 14th Drarry Drabble: "Sweet Tooth"

Tags: Flatmates, Slow Burn, UST, First Kiss, Flirting, Snuggling, Fluff, Even asleep Teddy is the perfect matchmaker

“Harry, I found the most adorable reindeer doughnuts you’ve ever seen—” Draco hollered from the hallway, delighting in the snug warmth inside the two-storey flat he shared with Harry. It was absolutely freezing outside, and Draco was glad to finally be home. He toed off his shoes and kicked them aside, then haphazardly slipped out of his winter coat and flung it over the bottom newel post. A well-practised swish of his wand sent the cardboard box of reindeer doughnuts floating into the kitchen at the end of the hall, and then Draco was on his way up the stairs, taking two steps at once.

He found Harry in his bedroom, and when he poked his head in to check whether Harry was asleep, he noticed that Harry had company. Teddy, his godson, was fast asleep in Harry’s arms. His signature blue hair was a dishevelled mess, and his face was blotchy and tear-stained. Draco arched a curious eyebrow and pushed the door open a little further. He quietly stepped into the room, careful to avoid the creaking threshold floorboard.

“What happened?” he whispered.

Harry let out a soft sigh.

“Bit of drama at St. Mungo’s today. Andy took him for his scheduled dragon pox vaccination, but he refused to let the Healer anywhere near him without me there. Begged off work when Andy floo-called to ask if I could help. Afterwards, he wouldn’t let go of me, so I told Andy I’d take him home. He’s with us for the weekend, I’m afraid.”

Draco grinned.

“You big ol’ softie.”

Harry rolled his eyes.

“Like you wouldn’t have done the same.”

Draco shrugged. He gently closed the bedroom door behind him, then crossed the room and sat down on the edge of the bed.

“Why all the tears?” he murmured.

Harry let out another sigh.

“His arm was sore after the injection. I tried to dilute a few drops of pain potion to make it kid-friendly, but he refused to drink it. Threw up when he smelt it. As you can imagine, we’ve had quite the morning. I finally got him to sleep about twenty minutes ago, but I’m afraid to leave the bed if it wakes him up again.”

Draco huffed a soft laugh. He pulled his legs up onto the bed and, curling up next to Teddy, gently combed his fingers through his cousin’s hair to restore some order to it. Teddy mumbled something garbled and curled into an even smaller ball.

“I’ll stay with him if you need a break.”

Harry shook his head.

“Nah, I’m OK. Did I hear you say something about reindeer doughnuts?”

Draco nodded.

“There’s a new bakery café on Carkitt Market called Sweet Tooth, a hole-in-the-wall sort of thing with two tables on the inside and a queue to rival any book signing Flourish & Blotts ever organised. They drew more of a crowd than you the last time you decided to eat your lunch sandwich out by the fountain. Went to check it out and thought you might like some reindeer doughnuts; they’ve a treacle filling.”

Harry’s eyes sparkled brightly.

“You are my saviour,” he said.

Draco turned his eyes upwards.

“Laying it thick here, aren’t you, Potter?”

Harry shrugged.

“Dunno, perhaps, I don’t care. Treacle is heaven.”

Draco chuckled.

“You’re too easy to please, Potter.”

Their gazes met. Like so often, Draco felt unable to look away. His cheeks flushed with heat, and after a few seconds of deliberately ignoring the thumping in his chest, Draco tore his gaze away — it required enormous effort. He tried very hard not to think about the fact that he’d climbed onto Harry’s bed without asking and to distract himself from being close to Harry—their feet were practically entangled, and he could feel the heat of Harry’s body—Draco focused his attention on Teddy. He caressed the little boy’s face, and when Teddy mumbled something else in his sleep, Draco instinctively pressed a lingering kiss to his cousin’s temple.

“He’s burning up,” he whispered, flicking his gaze at Harry.

Harry nodded.

“One of the side-effects of the vaccine. Should be gone by tomorrow.”

“I’ll brew something in a bit. I can tweak the Pepper-Up recipe a bit. If you whip up one of your famed hot chocolates with cream and marshmallows, I’ll slip it in. He won’t know a thing and will feel better in a flash.”

“He’s darn lucky to have you, you know.”

Draco smiled.

“Us,” he corrected. “Anything for the little monster. He’s got my whole heart.”

“Who’s the big ol’ softie now?” Harry teased with a grin that made Draco’s stomach flip as his heart helplessly stuttered inside his chest.

He shrugged.

“So what if I am?”

Harry grinned.

“Exactly, so what,” he said. His hand found Draco’s, and they entwined their fingers underneath Teddy’s pillow.

Draco failed to suppress a goofy grin (not that he was trying especially hard), and resting his head on his upper arm, he glanced at Harry. Being this close to Harry made it difficult to ignore how Harry’s proximity woke the butterflies in his stomach, and while they danced and fluttered about, his heart rate surged. Draco let his eyes fall closed. He concentrated on the way Harry smelt—of fresh citrus, coffee, a faint whiff of Mungo’s, and his signature cologne—and the way Harry gently caressed the back of his hand with his calloused thumb. He poked Harry’s feet with his toes. They played footsie for a while, just lightly rubbing their feet together, and then Harry shifted a little.

“Draco?”

“Hm?”

“Can I kiss you?”

Draco opened his eyes in a flash and stared at Harry. He wanted to say something, but it felt like a cat had gotten his tongue, and the harder he tried to find the right words to answer Harry’s unexpected question, the more he struggled to establish a connection between his brain and vocal cords. It was like he’d suddenly gone mute. He cleared his throat a few times or tried to, and as his cheeks pinked and then turned crimson, he stared up at Harry, utterly perplexed.

“Er,” he eventually said.

Harry smiled.

“What an eloquent answer,” he murmured. “And that from the man who usually has it all together.”

Draco resisted the urge to roll his eyes, ignoring the taunt. For now, at least.

“It’s not a no, though,” he pointed out.

“It’s not a yes either,” Harry countered.

Draco briefly considered his options, their friendship, their living situation, their entangled lives, the fact that five-year-old Teddy was fast asleep between them, and, perhaps most importantly, that Harry had, for some bold reason, decided to put a sudden end to their little dance and song. They were both aware that there was more to their friendship and had been for a while. Even their friends, a weird group of Slytherins, Hufflepuffs, Gryffindors and a Ravenclaw who all appeared to get on splendidly, knew there was more between them, and regularly joked about it or made bets. But until now, Draco had never felt the overwhelming urge to change anything about his and Harry’s relationship. Sure, thoughts like what Harry might taste like and whether he was a good kisser crossed his mind every so often, but something always held him back from making the first move. Apparently, now he didn’t have to.

“If you don’t want—”

Draco hissed a pointed, “oh shut it already, Potter,” then smiled. “If Edward here wakes up and finds us snogging, you can explain the whole birds and bees situation to him.”

“And what do I do if he wants to know whether you’re the bird or the bee?”

This time, Draco did roll his eyes but swallowed a groan.

“You’re ruining the moment, Potter,” he said.

“Oh.”

“Just— kiss me already.”

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khangi · 2 years

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Like, I know I’m speaking to the choir here but like.

Fucking wear a mask and get vaccinated.

Having Covid, even mildly, really fucking sucks. I’m currently fearing long term lung damage to pile onto my already alarming pile of long term lung damage.

And that entire week? I went out once. I was in the house for days, but the one time got me fucking Covid, which now my spouse and one of my partners has. (And he hopefully doesn’t pass it to his grandmother that he lives with.)

What really scares me is that my cousin came out to drop off the kitten, right before I was exposed. If it was after, she could have taken that to see her niece and nephew. Her nephew who has never left the hospital, 2 years after birth, and needs assistance to breath. What if that had been passed along to him?

Or my mother, who I barely saw but has COPD. She gave me a hug after dropping off my birthday gift, and took a bunch of n95 masks bc she can’t seem to get any.

But yeah, some dipshit went into public with Covid and now I get to suffer the consequences.

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godesssiri · 1 year

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Doug the Pug got fixed today. We highly suspect the breeder who had him looked after him well physically up until they decided to retire him as a stud and then they just didn't care. They did give us his vaccination records so we could prove to a vet that he was ours now and we hadn't stolen him or anything, so we do know he had all his shots and regular vet checks. But if you're using a dog as a stud he needs to be healthy so he doesn't get the mothers and puppies sick.

The day we were introduced to him by the pet shop owner who facilitated the adoption she noticed his ears were really dirty and gave them a clean, I was shocked by how gross the wet wipe that she used became. But I did some research when we got home and found that pug's outer ears need to be cleaned once a week and their inner ears need cleaning every 4 weeks, so I figured maybe his hadn't been done that week and ordered the ear solution with the best reviews. I told Mum to ask the vet to check his inner ears when he was in to get neutered because we had no idea when they'd last been cleaned. Whelp the vet today said his inner ears were really bad, but he's cleaned them out and that the solution I ordered was good stuff and use it again in 4 weeks.

He was also incredibly smelly when we got him. Mum bathed him and said the bathwater turned a very murky brown.

Everyone who has met him just adores him and he is so chill. Mum took him out to lunch to meet my cousin and her 2 toddlers and they all loved each other, there are some very cute pictures of Doug and my 1 years old cousin inspecting each other trying to figure out what exactly they were looking at. She also took him to meet a friend who's ex-husband was called Doug and she laughed her ass off because she'd always wanted a pug and she kept saying this was the Doug she should have gotten.

#Doug the pug

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fayeandknight · 2 years

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Personal venting about boundaries.

My cousin invited me to the cabin for Memorial Day Weekend/my birthday and I said yes so long as it was just us, and that we worked on having our dogs safely and comfortably being around each other. She agreed, yes of course, very reasonable blah blah blah.

Her dog, H, likes Faye but has gone after Forte before. I've stopped letting them interact months ago due to this. I'm not keen on putting any dog at risk for being attacked by another. But this is especially a big deal because Forte is training to be my service dog and I do not want him to develop fear or aggression around other dogs.

So today we took all three dogs on a walk and it was fine. Cousin declared it all good. I said no, because going on a group walk is not the same as sharing a house. So I let H and Forte meet with dropped leashes in my front yard. Forte sniffed H and H immediately grabbed Forte. I was fast enough to keep the damage to some pulled out hair but no actual injury. Forte did not react back, just laid down when I told him to while I hauled H away.

My cousin was quick to write it off as no big deal. But it is a big deal. H didn't give Forte any warning outside of stiff body to get out of his space, no moving away, no snarling or growling, just went straight to grabbing Forte by the neck. Having them spend the weekend together is unfair to both dogs. But it's also unfair to me, I don't want to be on edge all weekend or spend my time preventing a dog fight. I may be a dog trainer but that's not how I want to spend my free time.

After we parted ways she calls to tell me actually her dad, my uncle, is coming for the weekend too. I'm not okay with this. The least complicated reason is that he's not vaccinated and COVID is still a thing although it feels like everyone has forgotten that.

Made the mistake of telling my mom that I wasn't going to go anymore. And she just completely dismisses both my boundaries. I'm a dog trainer so I can manage the dogs or leave Forte behind for the weekend. Also COVID is inevitable at this point so it's not a big deal. And I'm just !!!!! what the actual fuck?

Both these factors are big deals if for no other reason than because I clearly stated them as my boundaries up front.

I'm so tired of people who plow over my boundaries and then gaslight me regarding it. That is not how I want to spend any weekend, much less my birthday weekend.

So now I have to figure out how to explicitly inform everyone that I'm not going without all the whining, crying, and guilt tripping that comes from me telling family members I'm not going to do something they want me to.

I already struggle with my birthday and boundaries in general, I do not need this shit on top of it.

#vent post #boundaries #personal post

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joie6000 · 1 year

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Thanksgiving week was a doozy. My dad got a call that his only sister’s grandson tested positive for Covid. A vaccinated person getting Covid is no big deal but a 25 year-old suffering with Duchennes Muscular Dystrophy getting Covid is the absolute worst deal.

My parents, specifically my dad has helped his niece, Cami, with her son, Zachary, for about 20 years. It all started when we were visiting them in Atlanta. We went to one of Zach’s soccer games and I told my mom that he didn’t run correctly. The gait was awkward and very unnatural. He fell too much. My mom suggested something to Cami about it - more like a “maybe he needs different shoes” or just needs to do some PT to strengthen his muscles. With my dad as a doctor and mom a nurse, most people trust the opinions so she took him in.

After months and months of meeting with specialists he was finally given his tragic diagnosis of DMD. Typically anyone with this disease, mostly boys, will not see their 26th birthday. From then on, my parents sprung into action. They pulled some strings and Zach into one of the best DMD hospitals in the country. They helped him get home aids and better wheelchairs. My dad made sure to visit Zach in Florida as much as possible and Zach truly loved my dad for it.

My dad always said that the Duchennes wouldn’t kill Zach but ultimately he would probably die from a respiratory illness like pneumonia. So once Covid hit, they stayed home and did nothing. Zach couldn’t do much anyways because he was in his 20s and pretty much bed-ridden but they masked and stayed home.

No one knows how exactly he got Covid but they think it was him home health nurse as she was the only one with a life outside of the walls of their home. He got it on a Thursday and was in the hospital by Saturday as the Covid turned into pneumonia. My dad was on a plane down to Florida by Sunday. By late Sunday night Zach had died.

Zach had a shit life and that’s the only way I can explain it. His father left Cami when Zach was little to then start a new family with another woman and forget about Zach for months and years on end. He would randomly call maybe every 3 years to wish him a happy birthday, sometimes not even on his birthday.

He had to go to a modified school schedule at a young age because DMD is exhausting. He had no friends. Zero. He was a Make-A-Wish kid which was a wonderful experience but temporary. Any enjoyable was temporary. In the hospital he signed his own DNR. Can you imagine as a 25 year-old signing that?

My dad stayed in Florida to help his sister and niece clean out Zach’s room and arrange the cremation. My cousin, for the first time in many years, didn’t have to be up multiple times a night to help toilet/clean/care for her for aching son. I can’t imagine. I don’t want to imagine.

My dad flew home and needed to quarantine because he had been on the Covid floor at the hospital hence we decided to move Thanksgiving to later in the weekend. We all met my dad at the airport and he was sad and exhausted. My mom asked for Abby to stay at their house because no one makes my dad laugh like Abby.

I chose this picture of Zach because this is how I want to remember him. The boy who was not happy I was marrying Patrick because at 8 years-old he wanted to marry me. The boy who would send me a Facebook message with “happy birthday” or whatever letters he could type.

I read a quote this week that said, “if you get to tuck your healthy child into a warm bed you have already won the lottery of life.” It’s just unbelievably true.

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wagner-fell · 2 years

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Yrah and Catia

@hahahax30 Hope you like it!!!! Make sure to tell me if anything is ooc :)

Christopher Lightwood surveyed his latest creation with a sense of pride he hadn’t experienced so strongly since he set his eyes on his son for the first time. Not that he would go as for as saying he considered the metallic oval standing before him anything akin to his child (why, by two years old Isidore could already race with his older cousins, while his device needed hours of proportion each day to even stand upright) but he certainly was extremely proud of his part in bringing both of them to life.

Thomas sat on his worktable a few paces behind, his long legs folded beside him. The scar he had gotten when a five year old Khina had stabbed him in the ankle on full display. He kept his distance from his cousin’s invention ever since it burnt off the beard he had been working so hard to grow. Alastair had teased him relentlessly for weeks.

“Do you think it is going to blow up today?” Thomas asked sincerely. “My apologies, Kit, but if it does I’m afraid I cannot assist you in rebuilding in the following fortnite. Alastair is traveling to Idris to assist Aunt Charlotte in private Clave matters, per her request, and Khina has just taught Dara to climb the bookshelves so now I have two children falling tumbling from the ceiling every chance they get.”

As if on cue, a loud crash came from upstairs, immediately followed by a panicked yelp from Grace. Christopher couldn’t blame her. When compared to Isidore, who might as well have been a mouse for all the noise he made, or rather, all the noise he didn’t make, the Carstairs twins seemed like a pack of rabid dogs, instead of the pair of painfully adorable children they were.

“I hope not,” Christopher replied cheerfully. He absentmindedly scratched at the beard beginning to form on his own chin. “Though we can never be to sure!” Thomas took that as his cue to slide off the table and step backwards until he could do so no further.

If he could actually get it to work, this device would finally earn him some respect in the shadow world. A portal that would let you travel up to 150 years in the future. Imagine that. They could bring back vaccines for deadly diseases, meet their great-grandchildren or simply just take in a new era.

“Are you ready, Tom?” Christopher asked. His fingertips hovered over the lever that would turn it on. It hummed with magic, and potential.

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Thomas said, attempting to make himself as small as possible. Which, with his height and all, wasn’t very small at all.

Christopher yanked the lever down with all his force, jumping backwards and tugging on his goggles overtop his glasses. The machine whirled and spluttered, shaking so hard Christopher was afraid it would topple over. It didn’t. Instead, gentle, blue light began pouring into the empty space in the oval from all sides. It met in the center growing stronger and stronger until it looked solid. He could barely contain his excitement. It was working! The months and months that lead up to this moment were finally paying off.

Christopher was so thrilled he almost didn’t notice the blue oval shoot straight back, disappearing from view and leaving the machine empty once more. It fell to the floor with a grand thump.

Hearing it fail once more, Leonie Werger emerged from her hiding place in the stairwell. She had, somewhat reluctantly, been assisting Christopher in the magical side of tampering with the natural order of things. He may or may not have ambushed the ward of the head warlock of Amsterdam when she was in London. Either way, she was an enormous help.

“I just don’t get why I didn’t work this time,” she mused to herself, swatching away any dust floating around in her vicinity and eyeing the fallen machine critically. “You thought about your goal in going to the future this time, correct?”

“Yes! I thought about seeing Isidore’s future spouse and that sort of thing!”

Leonie’s violet iris bore into him. “‘And that sort of thing’?” she asked incredulously. She spun to face Thomas. “What exactly happened?”

Thomas stood taller, straightening his back against the wall of Christopher’s basement. There was just something about Leonie that made you want to earn her respect. Christopher couldn’t think of a single person he had ever seen slacking off in her presence. “Well, it was running smoothly, better than it had so far, but then the portal went backwards and just disappeared. It was all rather queer, it wasn’t anything like our other failed attempts.”

Leonie closed her eyes slowly, shoulders slumping. “I thought that might be what happened.” She turned her attention back to Christopher. “I’m afraid your invention did work, just not in the way you intended it to.”

“What do you mean, Miss Werger?”

“I think you may have forcefully brought Isidore’s future partner far into the future.”

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

Catia had no idea where she was. However, she wasn’t exactly mad about that fact. She was surrounded by the most exquisite dolls, all beautifully grotesque in their own ways. Some had missing arms, others were adorably bald, the entirety of their plastic hair torn out.

In the center of the circle of dolls from Catia’s wildest sat a young child. They looked to be about her own age, if long forgotten gods of decay, reborn again to spread the mighty gospel of Death, did age.

Their head was tilted upwards slightly, presumably to ensure the black buttons resting over their eyes stayed put. They didn’t seem to have noticed her yet. Which Catia enjoyed thoroughly. Her happiest moments in recent memory were when Eej was so absorbed in a task she forgot her daughter’s presence, allowing Catia to catch a glimpse of what her next life, bound to ghost hood, would look like.

The unspoken trance the two children found themselves in was broken when the foreign child sneezed. Their head shot down to tuck their mouth into their elbow and the buttons previously resting on their eyes fell softly to the floor. When the child looked up, they looked at Catia, not with shock, but with annoyance. They asked a question in an unfamiliar language, crossing their small arms over their chest.

In lieu of answering in her own tongue, or in one of the thousands of tongues from her previous lives she had forgotten due to the traumatizing experience of being made to walk the earth again, Catia sat beside them and picked up the doll closest to her. It looked relatively normal at first glance. Its greasy black hair was parted down the middle and put into identical twin braids, its face and clothing blemish free. But when Catia turned it over, she was greeted with the most wondrous sight. The doll’s back had been neatly sliced off, a mouse’s skin sewn on in place. She would tear out all her teeth in order to keep it.

The child said a series of unfamiliar words. Catia stared at them blankly. Realization dawned on the child’s face, the annoyance disappearing as quickly as the monstrous sun banishes the glorious darkness each morning. They reached over and placed a single pale finger on the doll. “Merricat,” they said slowly, carefully pronouncing each syllable. Then they pointed at themself. “Yrah.”

Yrah. That was the child’s name. Taking the hint, Catia pointed at herself and said queen of the deformed sheep in Mongol. It was Yrah’s turn to stare at her with a blank expression. Catia’s sigh was as heavy as the shovel that would one day come to bury her in the earth. “Nomintsetseg.”

Yrah reached behind them to grab another doll. Catia took this as a sign she would be allowed to keep her teeth. She hid her disappointment as Yrah bumped their doll against hers. They said another string of words in their strange language but by the way they laid their doll on the floor and made the miniature knife sewn into the doll’s hand stab its own eyes repeatedly, Catia thought she got their meaning.

She moved her own dolls hands so they picked up one of the buttons that lay on the floor near Yrah and placed it on the doll's face.

Yrah took the button off the dolls face. Catia felt a frown appear on her face until they put it on her own right eyes. They put the other one, still on the floor, over their left eye.

They grinned at her, and she couldn’t help but grin back.

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

Catia spent four and a half eternities (or one afternoon in mortal terms) sitting by Yrah’s side, allowing her legs to go oh so wonderfully numb.

Yrah set the surplus supplies in between the two. There were needles and multicoloured thread, a glass bowl full of blood she dearly was real, small blades to slash the dolls disgustingly standard, symmetrical faces and an extraordinary amount of buttons.

Catia was just finishing sewing an dull green button, dipped thrice in the blood (mixed in with a bit of her own, this was her first experience using needles), onto the foot of a doll called Cabbage Patch Kid when a woman opened the door to Yrah’s bedchamber. She shared the same ghostly white hair as them. With her violet eyes and regal stature, she was the splitting image of what Catia thought the queen of the underworld would look like.

Though her cool exterior melted away the second she laid her eyes upon the young Mongol girl. The woman knelt by Yrah’s side, attempting to nudge them behind her back. She asked Catia a question in that unfamiliar language Yrah seemed so fond of.

The two of them could have been speaking the holy language of the demons belonging to the deepest levels of hell for all she could understand. Catia shook her head at the woman, her long twin braids swinging by her ears. Eej had tricked her into sitting down so she could do them that morning, telling her the only way to attract tongue devouring wolves was to have unknotted hair.

Despite the woman doing her best to hide Yrah from her view, they reached out and pointed at her. “Nomintsetseg,” they said. “Mum, her name is Nomintsetseg. She doesn’t speak any English, or Salza for that matter! It’s all rather queer. But she does have a fondness for my dolls and that’s enough for me. She doesn’t treat me like the other children, Mum. Can she stay with us?”

While Catia didn’t comprehend a single syllable that came from their mouth, she did get the impression Yrah was speaking of her fondly. Catia made a mental note to bring her beloved collection of takhi teeth next time she saw them. Yrah was the only person she had met who was worthy of seeing them. Perhaps she would even let them keep one.

While it was true her interactions with others of the wretched, fleshy species she belonged to had been limited, Yrah was the first person she had ever met whose interests were so keenly aligned with hers. Catia and her mother only ventured outside their small village on occasion on account of some unspeakable horror her mother had committed before she was born. It was rare that she met other children, even rarer that she met other children who didn’t run away from her within minutes.

Yrah didn’t run away, they embraced her.

The woman appeared to be deep in thought. She gently spoke to Catia in various languages, none of which made a lick of sense to her. Though she looked quite calm, a certain panic in her eyes betrayed her.

Seemingly having exhausted all languages known to her, the woman stood. She offered one of her pale hands in Catia’s direction, her smile silently urging her to take it. Catia got to her feet and took it.

She knew it sounded silly, but something about this woman reminded her of Eej. It might have been the way they carried themselves, as if they had carried the weight of the world on their shoulders and survived. Or perhaps it was the determined look in her eyes that reminded the young girl so much of her mother, like not finding a solution to the problem at hand wasn’t even in the realm of possibilities. Catia decided she trusted the strange woman.

The woman led Catia to the dining room, Yrah following in toe. She gestured for her to sit on one of the lavish chairs. She did so, still clutching Merricat and the doll she had been constructing in Yrah’s room to her chest. Yrah climbed into the chair beside her. Apparently having noticed how famished Catia looked, she had disappeared right before breakfast, the woman placed a plate of pastries on the table. Catia glared at them conspiratorially.

The woman took a rectangular device from some unnoticeable pocket in the folds of her revoltingly elegant gown and started typing on it madly.

Yrah picked up a jam tart from the plate and started munching on it. Well if Yrah trusted the peculiar desserts…

She picked up the pastry closest to her. It was crescent shaped and repulsively soft to the touch. Catia put the entire thing in her mouth, not wanting to hold it any longer.

Yrah laughed lightly. Catia didn’t quite get the joke but she laughed as well. Laughing with what she guessed some would call a friend made her feel so light she might have floated into the sun.

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

Many years later, after Catia had returned to her home country, after she ventured to England for her travel year, after she married, after she gave birth to her eldest son, Andrew, she thought of the first friend she ever made as she gifted him Merricat. And she thought even more of them as she gifted the doll she made, tucked away in their room, to her son Franklin.

The doll��s name was Yrah.

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

Merricat is the main character in what would be Catia’s favorite book had she lived in modern times, We Have Always Lived in the Castle

Also I know the logic of how this happened didn’t make any sense but, as we say in America, “it’s Tuesday, don’t worry about it” which basically means don’t think about it too hard lmao

#i know i mentioned before that leonie was a shadowhunter but than i realized she’d be better as a warlock #the kinship chronicles #tkc #heart of stone #hos #yrah everitt-melton #catia monteverde #atalanta everitt-melton #khulgana nyambayar

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