#and oliver who has more magic power than lit anyone else because of a fucked up thing he went thru

[arytha]

He frowned and looked at Ann: “I already understand your strength, Your Highness, but like I said, war and adventuring are completely different. No matter how strong the individual strength is, it can’t withstand tens of thousands of people together. To be honest, after announcing your news, the two neighboring armies will be mobilized to deal with us. I must carefully measure their strength. There is no room for any mistakes on the battlefield.”

“Oh,” Ann said. “Isn’t that just right? We have three armies here.”

“Armies?” Gallagher politely raised the tone at the end of the sentence.

“Yes—the leader of Tumbleweed, it’s mission time, and the employer is going to make a request.” Ann narrowed her eyes.

“Oliver and Nemo, you two are on the same team. Cross and Dylan, you two are on the same team. I think this should be able to handle two battlefields—Dylan, to be honest, right now I still have no idea about your strength. Do you need me to leave the parrot with you?”

Jesse saluted exaggeratedly. “Of course not, your Royal Highness. I just need that goat.”

“Then Bagelmaurus followed me. Let’s keep an eye on the marshal’s ass in case a female assassin is sent across the street to make this guy’s severe arrogance relapse again. How about it, commander?”

Gallagher’s expression was like he had seen a ghost. “Two men on each side of the battlefield. You call this an army?”

“Trust me,” Ann said. “If you don’t want to damage your relationship with the nearby lords, they’ll handle it better than anyone else.”

“There may be tens of thousands of troops on the opposite side.”

“I know.”

jesse, oliver, and nemo are armies on their own

[oh-theres-a-woman]

Pine’s Tale

Authors Note: Everyone you have no idea how long I’ve been trying to find this story I wrote! This was written in August 2016 back when I was studying my eleventh-grade outside of high school (like a lot of people the public school system wasn’t for me)! While I was studying my lecturer had a class blog and this was one of the submissions that I posted on it. Something earthy and quite raw. 

To be frank with you all, I had to get out and leave the classroom. Since between listening to really calming and beautiful instrumental music. This story made me sob like a child (as it did the lecturer and a friend). In light of everything that has been going on, I thought it’d share this memory and a tale I really enjoyed writing. 

Taglist: @hesagod-notyet​, @itsfrancisneptun​, @fandom-fucking-shit​, @amy-booxx​ & @dylanlover24​

Word Count: 1549

▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫Days like these, I’ve seen many of them. The weather was lovely, just the perfect temperature for me, to help with my growth. Leaves were growing once more on my branches, and my bark was going back its uneven texture. This was a sign to me that spring was here once more, kissing the nature in the park where I lived, where I grew into this tree. The birds nesting in my branches, laying their eggs so the next generation had a chance of survival, and their bloodline could go on.

If you have already guessed I’m a tree, a pine tree to be completely true to the facts. I’m roughly about seventy years old now, I was grown from a small little plastic cup in the year of 2016, for a class project that my friend Ava had. How could I possibly explain Ava to you? In the past, she was the most caring, and blossoming child with the eyes and hands of a green thumb. Her mother and father were gardeners, who loved the environment and everything that came with the environment. When we met, I was sprouting from the cup that she had been put in charge of growing seed from. The memories of that day were still clear in my mind, she was there looking at me with the biggest smile, dark skin of olive, hair that look like a brown sponge, her eyes as dark as my bark now. 

She was only ten years old then, now she’s much older, seemingly at the end of her days now. My sweet Ava’s parents had long since returned to the earth. For each family member, she lost she planted a tree in this lovely park full of life. Whereas at the time when Ava planted me here, when I got too big for the pot she had for me at her house on the back porch, I was alone… 

The life here was all brought there by Ava, to keep me company, she told me that every time a tree was planted. She’s put her hand upon the bark of my tree, and tell me to take care of her family members that the trees represented. The first two trees that joined me were for her mother and father, who took to a nasty illness and died together in the long winter of 2029, Ava was twenty-three at the time, and newly married. 

Ava used this place as a symbol of life and new beginnings, she always seemed to come here when she needed to talk to anyone. I was always the lucky one it seems, she told me when times were low for her, and going well. When a bench was first put under my tree, I remember Ava coming and huddling there, reading a book to her children. This only happened during the finer seasons, spring when all the flowers bloomed along the paths throughout the park, this time of year the gravel pathways looking brighter than ever and cleanly moved back into place from the harsh winter’s breathe. Every season Ava seemed to do something with me. 

I felt happy thinking about the fond memories of the past as I let the memories of years gone by rekindling. Thoughts of how I was decorated with solar-powered Christmas lights in the season of giving. It was the same for all the trees, they were decorated by my beloved Ava’s family. Her husband hanging the solar-powered lights on all of the beautiful trees. This created something magical looking in the park, as rows and rows of pine trees had beautiful decoration, snow-covered the floor of the pathways, and we lit the way through the cold days and nights when people decided to go for a walk. Shining whites, greens, yellows and reds showed the way throughout the park. The first time this ever happened I began to understand the word ‘beauty’ which humans used so often. 

Now I gleam proudly every year with the help of Ava’s grandchildren, and their children. Ava herself has become quite elderly and older, so she’s too fragile to get up and run about like she used to. So she stays with me, under the tree, sitting on her bench, which the local park rangers have dedicated to her for what she has done for the environment. With her time I saw Ava grow into a beautiful flower, and I knew her time was coming to an end, maybe soon she’ll become a tree with me and husband for company. One of the strangest things I saw with Ava, that which was inside her very heart and drove her to stay alive, was to make sure that we, all the trees, that were left to be taken care of.  So that more of us could be planted, for the more trees, the better the future is for everyone.

I’ll always remember that drive about her, as her visits became fewer and fewer. Though I still get the visits from her youngest great-grandchild, and she reminds me so much of Ava when she was young. She often sat there in old-hand-me-down dresses, her sponge-like hair was braided back. I never really saw her face, she seemed no older than about ten years of age. From behind she reminds me of Ava when she used to sit down on the ground, and read me a new and exciting tale about something that she had to read for school. Lavender her great-granddaughter was different though, she wrote stories in an old leather-bound book. 

‘The Tale of Pine’ was the latest story that she was writing at the current moment, and it was my tale, and Ava’s tale. I had no understanding about why she was writing a book about me until one hot day in the park, a large group gathered together and were digging a place in the earth. I saw Lavender, and many other children dressed in black, it was the same with the adults. There were so many people standing there in silence, then a song grew. Maybe it was a song of hope or legacy. It spoke of a girl and her love for nature, and how she made a place once clear of life become filled with the trees that could mean life once more for those who were lost. The story spoke of how it began with one tree, and how they became life friends, and she planted him more friends. That girl had grown into a loved member of the community and died the hero of largely wasted parkland that was now home to all different types of beautiful rare and exotic trees that grew together in harmony. My beloved Ava had died. 

I watched on as the ceremony about her life had been made, the town community had attended this. A whole range of people was there; Ava’s family, friends, visitors of the park who watched her through the years. Children she encouraged to do more for the environment sobbed there. Something else that the people wrote messages on was there, it looked like a book. A published novel. Something important. But I didn’t know what could be so important about a book. 

Through the breeze, I heard myself and the other trees begin to sob, and I watched them mix Ava’s ashes with the earth they were going to plant the sapling in. Carefully they placed a small little fence around the sapling. I could hear a new tone of voice through the sad sobs that filled the park, humans and trees sobbed as the sapling was watered and Ava’s soul had a new chance, like a tree, a beautiful little sapling. People let go birds that were going to be released back into the wild after healing from injuries. The birds' songs flew through the air as everyone mourned, I and the other trees wept tears of leaves. Such bitter feelings mixed as my old friend was gone, but I heard something that made me stop and listen. 

The breeze blew my attention to the little sapling, and I heard the words once more. The calls of the little sapling. ‘Hello?’ I heard her call out to us, the older and grown trees. I replied to her calls, listening to the lost little young the sapling spoke with. “Hello my little friend, welcome to our big family,” I spoke in a gentle, and almost reassuring manner watching the sapling’s little leaves blow in the small summer breeze. “What’s your name, little friend?” I heard him ask softly looking to her in a calm manner, letting the wind blow. 

“My name is Ava, will you be my friend?” I heard the little sapling reply, and happiness grew within me and I knew right there and then. My Ava was born again and now has a new life as a small sapling. My old friend Ava had died at the age of eighty, by now I have a young sprout sapling friend who was my beloved Ava reborn. I’d had her with me for many years, and I’d now never have to worry about how she is because she’ll always be there.