#his body and surroundings to an extent based around where his mind has dwelled

[wizardlocation]

[image ID// A lightly shaded drawing of my ocean wizard oc done in colored pencil. He is standing and facing the viewer, one piece of his cloak held tightly in one of his hands, which is raised to his chest in order to reach it. His other hand is idle at his left side. The tail end of the wizard's long and finned hat is currently curled around and draped over his left shoulder. The fins on top of his hat are drooping and a little haggard. in the middle of the image is a white watermark that says 'wizardlocation' // end ID]]

I forgot to draw the rest of his manta cloak but we can pretend it's tied up behind him to not snag on things djksngjksngkng. Long time no wizard but it's been plaguing my brain a little for the past few days. Specifically I want to finish drawing the seagull wizard I have that's one of his sole visitors every few years. This'll tie into the work I'm doing involving the world around the ocean wizard and why he's done so much to bar himself into the spire he lives in and its surrounding area.

[lovely-necromancy]

A Cure for Insomnia Ch.3

WARNING DECEPTIONS OF A PANIC ATTACK

I understand seeing others go through this can sometimes cause panic or anxiety attacks in some and with the use of some imagery I've used I'd feel better if I gave a fair warning that there is a detailed panic attack early on.

,,,,,,,,,,

Whoever said eight hours of sleep was the right amount for humans has never met an insomniac who just spent the last six days and five nights awake. You hoped that fucker is in hell burning for his sins, he probably has more of them that you don't know of. But with bleary eyes looking at your phone you can barely make out that it's just a little past six in the morning. This is backed up by the slimmers of light shinning through the blanket you put over the window last night. Briefly the thought of keeping it up today passes through your mind as you try to curl into an even tighter blanket cocoon.

Stretching out your legs and toes you let your muscles melt into mush in the warmth and comfort of your bed. Closing your eyes and burying your head back into the pillow, you might not be able to go to sleep but resting is nice too. You're so relaxed it almost feels as if all your limbs are floating and you feel the buzz of energy come surging back through you, you hum along with it nuzzling into the pillows.

'Your car was broken into.' the thought flashes through your mind and has you jolting up right.

Chest heaving slightly as frantic eyes dance along the room that hasn't changed since the night before. The buzzing energy from just a few moments before turns into an icy feeling flowing in your veins. It chills you to your core and you've noticed the tremors in your arms causing you to tremble. There's a sick feeling that bubbles up your throat, as you feel the phantoms of tens of hands grabbing at your arms and torso. They move erratically all over and their grips are suffocating, there's a lump in your throat that you have trouble swallowing down.

Bringing a hand up to your throat you jab your thumb right above or right at where your larynx would be. The slight pain from the pressure helps ease the lump away and you're able to get out a few frantic breaths. You hardly notice the wetness on your face from the few tears slipping free from your eyes.

'Gross, gross, gross, gross.' is the only message that rings clear in your mind as you're assaulted by these phantom hands.

You're aware this is a panic attack, but it does little to calm you down. Putting more pressure on your throat and using your feet to propel you back into the mattress. Vaguely you're aware that tiring your body out should calm you or maybe it's the release of an emotional fit that calms you, you aren't sure which and you don't really care at the moment. So flailing your legs you let your feet forcefully slip off of their purchase as you push your muscles to their full extent with force. It doesn't take long before you can't feel your limbs and are gasping for breath.

The phantoms are gone, no longer touching you as they please, and while the lump still sits at the bottom of your throat making it hurt to swallow and breathe around you can begin to feel calm. Actually it's the numbness that takes over you, not a sense of calm. The sense of an empty shell broken from its exertion. One thing's for sure you can't take your car today. If you had a panic attack just by thinking of your car you don't want to risk actually getting behind the wheel.

Everything feels tense, the muscles in your legs are starting to ache and you're pretty sure you'll have a bruise at the base of your throat.  You check your phone with shaky hands to see it's now seven twelve. If you get up now and leave you think you can probably make it into town by eight forty giving you time to grab something from the Dunkin' on the corner across from the shop. Or you could call out, Nate would totally understand. But just the thought of being alone today sends a chill down your spine and the feeling of those phantom hands start creeping their way back into your personal space.

“I'm going to work!” jumping up and out of the bed, away from the grubby grabby specters.

Running around the room you throw on a pair of black shorts, unusual for you to wear at work but if you're walking you'll have to deal, sweaty jeans are uncomfortable and joggers aren't very cohesive to a work environment. Deciding on a binder made from a breathable swimsuit material for the same reason, sweaty bra is too uncomfortable and bra-less isn't really something you're comfortable with. Grabbing the first shirt you find, it's a black tee with the words “The only man for me is Mothman” printed on it surrounded by little white stars and a chibi lil mothamn.

Looking at your outfit altogether cheers you up. It's casual but cute, not to mention these shorts do a lot for your thighs and butt. But, there's no time to dwell on how handsome you are, you need to grab food and get out the door like ten minutes ago! Grabbing a mask printed with the word 'No' dead center and your headphones you leave your room. With the thought of grabbing Dunkin' before work you settle on a Pedialyte Pop to hold you over during your walk, nausea shouldn't hit you right away anyway. Checking your door was locked, thrice, you started your trek to town.

Most people would complain about having to walk or hike while wearing a mask, often times saying it was hard to breathe under the fabric. But you'd say they just didn't have the right size mask for their face shape. You'd run into a few masks that hadn't been the right shape or size throughout the years but you're thankful that your first three had been perfect. Had they been too big or small you probably wouldn't have fallen in love with wearing masks, they were so comfy and let you interact with people without your voice getting stuck in your throat.

You'd taken to wearing them after high school when you'd taken a job of watching an elderly hospice patient's corgi while her family worked on moving to Virginia and closer to her. Anytime you and little Russel went to visit her you'd had to wear a mask, so instead of wearing the disposables you'd bought a set of three reusable ones.

After noting the change in behavior she mentioned your Autism, she'd been a retired social worker and saw the signs when she met you and after spending nearly 40 hours a week together for half a year she was certain you somehow fell through the cracks. It was a shock to you when she threw out the off handed comment but after stating who your pediatrician was, she was sent into a fit of laughter.

“Anya is a dear and a great surgeon, but I think the cultural barrier has stopped her from diagnosing children for years.” she had said all the while wheezing through the oxygen mask, eyes crinkling in amusement.

She'd sat you down with a list of books to look into and written out all your symptoms, she said if you ever wanted to get tested having the list of symptoms would be more helpful than straight up asking for a diagnosis. Some doctors were too by the book back in the 40s so Autism has rarely been studied in depth. Only in the last decade or so has a movement gained momentum to spread not only a wider awareness of the disorder but also acceptance for it. But to a doctor it would seem like you were grasping for attention at least to anyone who spent less time with you than she had. But without at least six thousand dollars to spend on a piece of paper that confirms what you already know you'll just have to stick to coping by using methods you read about from forums and blogs made by people with Autism rather than their parents or someone who's “very close” to them. And like Mary Anne said before she died, “just because you don't have a diagnosis doesn't mean your symptoms aren't there.”. A statment that reassures you from time to time, when you think you must be faking it for attention. And that somehow you managed to fake tics your whole life.

Snapping out of your memories because you could hardly tell your mask was on, and has been for the past forty minutes or so since you'd finished your pop. It wasn't too hot at the moment and like the previous day Kepler's climate has no humidity whatsoever, a huge change from the coast. Checking the time again on your phone you see the clear white numbers stating boldly that it is eight o' nine. You don't feel any closer to town but figure that's normal when all you've seen is the old over grown road. You feel you should have seen the road leading to town by now,  you hope you see it soon or else you'd really over estimated how long it would take to get to town, then you'd be hella late and sweaty. With the way you still had signal to the spotify you doubt you've even made it far enough to reach the dead zone.

Sighing you look down as you walk hoping to maybe find a rock to kick, walking's really boring when there's nothing to explore and you're on a time crunch. A loud honk takes you out of your head and you startle looking up. Doesn't take more than a second before you see a car stopped in the middle of the road in front of you. It's well taken care of for sure but not necessarily new or anything, you don't know too much about cars other than it looks like a black Camry no wait that's the Hyundai symbol. Some type of sedan then.

The back window on your side of the car rolls down and a man leans out and calls to you, you don't hear him at first. Slipping your headphones down to hang around your neck he repeats himself, “Do ya need a ride?” He has a southern accent on the thicker side, not abnormal for West Virginia but you can tell it's not the same dialect, probably from further down. The man has blonde hair styled in that fluffy swooped faux hawk that a lot of gamers had back in 2017/2018. He's got slight thin stubble along his jaw, not quiet five o'clock shadow so he probably has trouble growing facial hair. His eyes are that hazel color everyone wishes they could have, the kinda that had the orangish yellow glow about them. He looks like a fuck boy.

You're nearly ready to point at your mask in an indication of 'no I don't know you creep' when you catch sight of the driver. A boy around your age maybe who looks apathetic, that's not what catches your eye everyone looses the will to live at some point. What draws your attention is the mask he's wearing on his face. He could potentially be like you, or maybe he's just sick and being considerate, or he could have allergies. Whatever the case may be you can't honestly be considering getting into a car with two random men just because one wears a face mask. Hell for all you know they've orchestrated this situation, they could've been watching you analyzing your every move to know that breaking into your car would send you into a state of panic where you wouldn't use your car the next day or two, then you'd be out in the open to kidnap on your walk to town where you couldn't call for help due to being in the dead zone. Why else would they be this far along the old dirt road?

“Ah...miss?” the southern drawl brings you out of your inner ramblings, and the words cause you to bristle.

“I'm not a woman.” you say calmly but firmly.

“Oh, ah sorry sir.” you can't help but huff a laugh at the quick apology, your eyes catch movement through the window. Oh they have a dog with them, a rottweiler at that. Cool kidnappers with a dog, who's wearing a vest how...wait dog in vest oh he must be a service dog. Cool not kidnappers then, just strangers, nice. Seemingly trans allys, slight common ground with the driver, and a service dog it might be safe to engage...or at least humor these men.

“It's fine, I'm They/Them for the record.” You say approaching the car, you make your way to the man leaning out of the window, somehow the presence of a service dog puts you more at ease, especially when the dog only spares you a single glance before his attention's back on the driver, who's not even pretending to pay attention to the two of you. His leg is bouncing up and down, it's not rhythmic and no one's paying attention even as it shakes the car. Probably has ADHD, your dad does that all the time when he's at a stop light, it's a subconscious movement he even does it in waiting rooms or anywhere where he has to sit still really.

“Oh, well sorry 'bout that Mx.” the man in the window stresses the “Mx” but not in the typical fuck boy way, more like he was reinforcing it to himself. “We just saw you walkin' and wanted to see if ya' needed a ride anywhere.” he says.

“If you're going to town, I'd appreciate one, but I wouldn't want to be a bother.” his smile brightens at this but you notice it doesn't reach his eyes, probably just being polite.

“Sure thing, hop on in.” He moves to slide back but you've already opened the passenger door and slid into the seat. Effectively snapping the driver out of whatever haze he was in to look at you, he looks back at his friend with confusion.

“Hi” you say to the driver who gives his own wary 'hey' in response as you buckle yourself in. The driver looked even more apathetic up close, dark eye bags under his eyes that were such a deep brown you couldn't see his pupil he also had that fluffy brown e-boy hair. Not the frizzy hair marketing itself as fluffy but the type that's genuinely fluffy looking forming soft waves in his hair.

If they are kidnappers they're really bad at it, especially if all you have to do to stun them is sit up front in a seat that has the second most control in the car and can escape quicker if the need arises. However, glancing back at the dog you notice his attention's still on the driver, it would be really dumb if a kidnapper brought their service dog with them to do a kidnapping so you're reassured that it's just two southern boys driving through Kepler. And they happened to spot a “damsel” in distress, so they came to the rescue.

“Oh, don't mind Connor he won't bother you. He's here for Toby right now.” The man in the back says and you see the man beside you grip the steering wheel tighter. You nod in response and feel a tickle at the base of your skull, you'll try holding back the tic to not freak the two out.

Just as “Toby” is about to put the car in drive, a bark is heard from the back seat. A frustrated sigh leaves Toby as his hand leaves the gear shift, scowl clear even on his masked face. You guess Toby needs Connor to let him know when he's safe to drive, it's rude to ask about these things but you can't help but guess why that'd be the case.

Another bark leaves Connor right as your head snaps to the right moving back to place, then right, right, up, and right before cracking violently.

“There we go.” you verbalize.

Toby's looking at you in what you can only guess is shock, not the worst reaction you've had to your tics, meanwhile you notice Brian's looking to Connor who's looking directly at you now. Then his head whips around to Toby and he barks, like clockwork Toby's shoulders jerk forwards and his hands jolt up. Connor looks back at you and gives a bark, your head jerks three times cracking your neck two of those times. Connor's gaze is still on you and you know he'll be in an ongoing ping pong game between you and Toby if you keep triggering each other's tics the entire drive, if you'd even be able to get to that point.

“I'm fine, thank you.” you said looking at Connor while holding the sides of your head, trying to as your friend Emonie once said 'keep the bobble head away'.

Thankfully Connor must have had a training course similar to ones you've helped with because he looks away from you and focuses on Toby, who he gives several barks to. Following those barks Toby pops his knuckles and makes a 'mrrwo' sound, sort of imitating a cat, before his head jerks sharply into his knee that jerked up at the same time. You cringe at the sight knowing that must have hurt, hands still firmly pushing your head you see Connor settle down in the back, still on alert but laying down as if to say the muscle spasms have passed. You won't risk removing your hands, you still need a ride into town and this whole situation's put you behind to where you won't make it if you walk now.

“pfft...” you look back to the blonde and he looks ready to burst with laughter from what he just watched. Heat creeping up your face you turn and look away, sure the situation's funny but you don't know these two men and honestly you just feel so embarrassed right now. Especially with last night's incident at the mini mart still fresh in your memory.

“Will you fucking shut up!” Toby barks out, and the blonde tries harder to suppress his laughing fit. Toby glares at his friend before turning his attention back to the road, hand on the gear shift he waits for an alert before putting the car in drive and doing a U-turn back to town.

It's been a while since you've been a passenger in a car, you actually get to take the time to relax and enjoy the passing scenery as Toby drives. He's a surprisingly good driver, most guys his age are speed demons and always want to see how fast they can get away with driving. Toby on the other hand is abiding by the limit even on this open stretch of road with no other cars. But you guess it comes with the territory of needing a service dog to be able to drive, have to abide by the rules. The drive's quiet, you take it as a good thing that the men aren't trying to question or get to know you. If they were kidnappers or up to something nefarious surely they'd be trying to distract you right now with endless chatter to let your guard down. Especially if they'd been watching you and knew what a total chattering encyclopedia you could be when given the right topic. You're gazing out into the window seeing the sign of the town get closer finally when the thought hits you.

“So, your name's Toby, is it short for Tobias?” turning to look at the man, he spares a single side glance with his furrowed brows before responding with an uneasy 'Yea'.

“Cool, sorry if that was a weird question. Tobias is like the best name I've ever heard but I've only met three Tobiases, including you. Could I call you Tobias or do you prefer Toby?”

“I don't really care.” gotta love apathy.

“Cool, cool. Thanks for the ride Tobias!” you chirp out.

“Hey, forgetin' that I'm the one who offered the ride?” The man in the backseat speaks up.

“No, you just never gave me your name. You said Connor's” and ear twitch is all you get such a good boy, “and you said Tobias'. Never mentioned your own.”

“It's Brian, sugar.” you were correct, this man is a fuck boy.

“Yikes, that's gross.”that was a reflex and it was now Toby's turn to laugh at his friend. The man didn't even hide his snickers even had his shoulders bouncing up and down, you think you even caught a mumbled “I won't hesitate bitch”. Meanwhile Brian sat stunned, guess he was used to people finding his nicknames more endearing, meaning he probably meant nothing by it and it was probably the southern accent but it just made you think of the senior men who'd hit on you back before you moved out here.

“Yea don't call me 'sugar', anyway, I'm YN, it's nice to meet you three.”  Toby just nods as his laughter dies down a clucking sound resonates from his throat, Brian however goes right back to his friendly persona with a 'good to meet ya.' Again it's slightly off, it doesn't feel like he's trying to be polite...it feels like...you can't put your finger on it but it's familiar. Like when you fake a conversation with Nate or your mother on the days where exhaustion is nearly killing you, but Brian doesn't seem tired or sluggish.

The rest of the drive is relatively quiet as you direct Toby how to maneuver the streets and he parks in the parking lot of Dunkin'. While you were getting out you'd asked the men if you could get them anything from Dunkin' as a thank you for driving you. Brian tried to decline but Toby spoke over him with what “they” wanted.

“Ok cool, can Connor have a pup cup?” unsure if service dogs could have treats while working.

Sparing a glance to the good boy in question Toby shrugged “Yea, he's due for a break any-anyway.” he ends with popping his knuckles. You assume Connor only alerts motor tics when Toby is driving or about to start driving, since that tic didn't get clocked.

You repeat the order to the cashier once inside. You also get a frozen caramel coffee and an iced caramel coffee for you and Nate along with a box of donuts to pick from for the day. When she hands you everything you're able to balance Toby's order on top of your box and your drinks in the other hand. Walking out with the help of the next man coming in, nodding thanks as you pass him, you see Toby leaning against his car with Connor sitting next to him, no vest on.

It's terrifying how well trained Connor is, because the dog you left in the car barely paid you any mind. While this hyper pup's tail is wagging at just the sight of you, his paws lifting slightly in a tiny dance as you get closer. But he doesn't dare move from his sit, looking up at Toby for cues and looking at you who holds his treat.  Had you not worn a mask for so long you may have missed the smile Toby gave Connor as he pat the dog's head. The slight crinkles around the edges were a dead give away though. With a quick snap Connor is released from whatever command he'd been held by and runs up to you once you're five feet from them.

Drooling mouth opening and closing in an odd mute bark for a dog this size. You take note of the fact that while he's jumping excitedly and pawing the air he hasn't laid a single paw on you. Whoever trained him knew what they were doing that's for sure. Looking up to Toby you hold the one hand outstretched for him to take his items, a tray with Connor's pup cup and his iced coffee, and a white baggie with three donuts, strawberry glazed, maple glazed, and an apple fritter.

Once he's taken his items you balance your drinks on top of the box. Connor's attention hasn't moved from you even through the exchange. You're a little confused by the pup's antics but he probably thinks he can get a donut off you.

“Sorry bubbie, your dad's got your treat not me.” that dopey little face tilts to the left not understanding you aren't the treat giver at this time. You laugh letting him smell the hand that had the coffee in it so maybe he'd understand you didn't have his treat. He excitedly sniffs you, and gives you a few licks before sitting back right in front of you with a blur of a tail behind him. Such a silly boy, he deserves some chin scritches.

“He's smart, told him you'd give 'im this.” Toby says holding out the pup cup to you, as you bend at an awkward angle balancing food in one hand while scratching his dog with the other.

Connor's a little disappointed when his pets stop but jumps to all fours when he sees the pup cup. His tail is wagging so fast you'd be afraid his butt will fall off, if that was a thing that could happen. You go to put the cup in front of him but Toby stops you.

“Hold on, Connor sit.” As soon as his name was called his bottom was on the ground. “You already know his release word so when you want him to take it just say the release.” He says offhandedly while placing the bag in the passengers seat and his drink in the cup holder. You can hear murmured arguing from inside the car, but choose to ignore it. These guys clearly aren't kidnappers, and if they were it's so stupid to kidnap you in broad day light after you just made a purchase and with literally a street in between you and your work, where your boss is waiting for you.

Placing the cup in front of Connor you didn't think it was possible for him to get any more excited but his tail is now undetectable by the human eye. He looks from his treat to you, back, and back to you. Toby said you already knew the release, and there's only one thing you've said to Connor throughout the trip.

“Thank you.” it's immediate, for such a well mannered service dog on and off duty this pup has no table manners. There is whip cream everywhere it's on the ground, his paws, even behind his head. How on earth did he manage that? This must be Connor's only character flaw because Toby is back with what you can only assume are all the napkins he had received in the donut bag, and service vest under his arm.

Once the pup cup was utterly decimated Connor sat happily, butt wiggling, as his dad wiped the rest of the whip cream off of him. Showing the pup the huge glob he had behind his ear only had him licking it off the napkin before licking his dad's face.

“Wrong.” Toby called, a little bummed the pup calmed down a bit but his tail was still going. Toby paused before he slipped the vest back on Connor. Head jerking back twice he looked over to you.

“You wanna say 'bye'?” you perked at the question, if you had a tail of your own it'd probably be wagging just as fast as Connor's.

Do you want to pet a dog, what kind of question was that? Of course you fucking do. Yea you might be late to work but petting a dog is always worth it. Setting your breakfast and coffee on the hood of the car you bent down with Toby to Connor's level.

If that dog could talk he'd tell everyone you gave the best ear scratches, sure you may have smooshed his wrinkly face a ton. But you were so nice and was that baby coos, ah he loves you new best friend. Connor jumped up when you started cooing and gave you a ton of kisses to the face. You couldn't stop laughing and the repetitive motion triggered a tic. Thankfully your mask was on so Toby couldn't see you tongue poke out repeatedly as you said “bleh” in between giggles.

“Wrong.” he says gently pushing the drooling pup away. Shaking the spit off his hand before scratching the pup under the chin, right where the bottom of his ear met his jaw. The pup instantly melted calming into his handlers touch. With his dog now calm he whistles and Connor is standing up straight, Toby slips the vest over his head and secures it. Connor the puppy has turned back into Connor the good boy working pup.

Grabbing your stuff from the hood of the car you turn to Toby and Connor, “Thanks again for the ride, and for letting me pet your dog.”

You're met with a simple shrug, not much phases Toby you've noticed. Aside from his tics that is.

“See ya later Tobias!” with that you're on your way to cross the street legally, and by that you totally jay walked out into traffic in front of the sheriff. You may have jay walked in front of the sheriff, but he didn't do anything so you're fine.

[giantchasm]

Antimatter Aguri AU Masterpost

Sack has entirely too many AUS about Aguri? Sack has entirely too many AUs about Aguri!

Anyway. I decided to finally make a post explaining this AU to the general fandom, since I’m proud of it and not sure I’ll ever get around to entirely writing a fic based on it. So I may as well share the concepts.

Have you ever wanted an AU where Aguri lives? But do you feel a simple ‘she lives with no complications AU’ is too easy of a way out, and ignores a massive part of Korosensei’s arc? Have you ever wanted an AU that would make you hate the villains of Assclass even more than you already do? Have you ever wanted an AU with cool monsters smooching cool monsters? Have you ever wanted an AU where Aguri S U F F E R S? And have you ever wanted an AU about long term recovery after massive trauma?

Then BOY do I have an AU for you!

The rest is under the cut because this is going to be a LONG post.

In this AU Aguri manages to survive her close brush with death.

How she survives, however, is significantly less uplifting.

Basically Yanagisawa pumps her full of Antimatter shit after finding her body in a desperate attempt to save her life. And it works. Hooray!

He hurries her into another part of the lab before Akari can see a thing, and continues pumping her full of Antimatter to try and stabalize her. But being a Known Cunt, things don’t exactly go too well after she comes to. Especially considering she's ALIVE. Without his weird fucked up revenge quest to serve as motivation he still has nothing to strive for, so he goes right back to his experiments. 

This time on her. 

Like the moment she wakes up one of her first questions is "wait. Where did the reaper go? Is he okay" and he FLIPS his SHIT on her. Yells at her for being obsessed with the Reaper and accuses her of not giving a shit about him. (CAN YOU BLAME HER?)

She tries to deescalate the situation and turn it into an amicable breakup, but considering he fucking sucks hes not gonna take that for an answer. He decides that Korosensei escaping in the first place was her fault anyway, scapegoats her for the entire thing, then locks her in that room and continues his experiments. Namely this time he’s curious about finding out if an Antimatter being that won’t explode can be created.

And it. Is. Bad.

Like these experiments continue over the course of months and she degenerates more and more until she realizes everyone thinks shes dead. That she’s never going to get to see The Reaper or her students or her family again. She resigns herself to a life of suffering. Like. Pretty much wishes she'd just DIED back there. Which is. Really sad.

Sometime during this time she sees Itona and begs for help, but considering Itona’s pretty much out of his mind in his own right during this time he's not of much help.

When the tentacles ask her what she wants, she answers “safety.” That’s all she wants. To stop being hurt. She dwells more and more on the last time she saw the Reaper. And that’s what her form begins to reflect. So she starts lookin a lot like Korosensei did during his escape w/ the writhing tentacles and such.

And with that wish that’s when something starts to shift w/ the experiments. Like. They go completely off the rails.

She can no longer receive injections. It just doesn’t break the skin. Antisensei weapons simply don’t work on her to the same extent. With force, they can cut her, but nothing like how they make Korosensei’s limbs outright explode. 

Suddenly this is terrifying. CONSIDERING KOROSENSEI WISHED TO BE WEAK. AND ENDED UP THAT FUCKING INVINCIBLE, SHE'S ON ANOTHER LEVEL ENTIRELY. 

Her restraints are like tripled and the room is reinforced with Antisensei material. They find a way to keep pumping her full of antimatter. Despite ppl working under Yanagisawa starting to voice their opinions that this seems dangerous, he doesn’t relent because this isn’t about scientific development at this point, much less safety for him. It’s about his fucking power complex.

And around this time back in the main class, the Itona redemption arc is going on. And as soon as Itona’s back in his right mind hes like

"OH. MY. GOD." 

LIKE HE'D SEEN THIS LADY IN THE LAB BEGGING FOR HELP BUT JUST BEEN TOLD "OH, DON’T WORRY ABOUT HER SHES NOT A THREAT TO YOUR QUEST FOR STRENGTH. SHES PATHETIC" 

When she was begging for help she namedropped Akari. Itona does some digging and finds out Kayano's true identity, before confronting her with what he saw. 

As you can imagine, Kayano kind of flips her shit?? Can’t exactly blame her considering her dead sister is A) Alive B) BEING TORTURED

Kayano comes forward to Korosensei. Asks him if he'd be willing to do anything for his students. For her. He of course says yes. But to that she replies "Even save the life of someone you tried to kill?" 

He's understandably confused. But she explains everything. What she saw. About her tentacles. And about what Itona told her. And in turn he tells her about everything, too. The truth. He begs her to remove her tentacles, but she refuses until she knows Aguri is safe.

Korosensei anxiously tries to explain that there’s no doubt the lab is reinforced, and he doubts they can even DO this. Kayano says she knows they can do it with her classmates on their side, but Korosensei argues he promised he’d protect them, and he REFUSES to put those kids in a situation like that. 

But Kayano argues right back that they’ve dealt with worse (i.e Takaoka) and that if he doesn’t ask them, she'll ask them her damn self. She doesn't need him. Does he want to help or not? 

Korosensei reluctantly (VERY RELUCTANTLY, both out of his caring for Aguri and his desperation to keep Kayano and the rest of the kids safe) agrees to help rescue her.

They give the class VERY vague details (No dump about Korosensei’s backstory, nor about Aguri being Kayano’s sister. There's literally no time for that. Just that there's something like Korosensei out there that needs their help. They do… however tell them that this new Antimatter creature is their former teacher, as they feel it will help inspire the kids to do this.)

Irina and Karasuma are not let in on what’s going on. Korosensei and Kayano actually gather the class after school to specifically avoid those two.

Cue them breaking fucking in. Knocking out lab workers and shit. I don’t know how to describe action sequences. Eventually they find her. And it's so much worse than they could have imagined. Not even really her physical form. (Though that’s pretty grotesque too.) Just how MISERABLE she looks. She has this dead look in her eyes. She's completely pinned down. She doesn't even see them approaching the class because she's so restrained she can't turn her neck. It's like she's a shadow of herself. Miserable and scared and alone.

They break in and free her. She's completely taken aback. This can’t be real. But Kayano and Korosensei are already helping her to her feet as she asks 100 questions. Is... Is that the REAPER? And... What on earth is Kayano implanted with? She's clearly super dazed and acting like she isn't really processing any of this, but she's still worried. She doesn't even really get her answers, namely because they're interrupted. 

Surrounded by people working in the lab and approached by Yanagisawa. He starts to monologue about this happening due to Korosensei’s escape, because that was her fault. And now this is Korosensei fault! It’s beautiful, really! Perfect cause and effect. 

If he hadn’t escaped she never would have been reduced to this. It’s all. Korosensei's. Fault. He hadn’t even cared to try to save her life! Now THAT proves he doesn’t really care. Not like YANAGISAWA cares. He- he doesn’t get to finish his villain monologue because in an EXTREMELY CATHARTIC CHAIN OF EVENTS Kayano goes ape shit on his ass and RIPS OUT HIS OTHER EYE.

YEAH. She’s fucking PISSED.

It’s about now Korosensei’s having an internal debate, because on one hand he’s REALLY trying to be better and be a No More Mr Murder Man, namely BECAUSE of Aguri. On the other hand this guy SERIOUSLY hurt Aguri and might hurt his students, too. 

They’re being surrounded by guards and scientists with Anti-sensei equipment by now. Korosensei's seriously in danger. But that’s where Aguri’s INVINCIBILITY really gets to shine. She protects Korosensei, while ALSO BEGGING KAYANO TO STOP (By now she’s practically lighting that bitch up. LMAOOO) 

Something something she’s been hurt by Yanagisawa but “HE DOESN’T DESERVE TO DIE!” (Oh get a fucking grip, Aguri I love you but he really does deserve to die at this point) 

Finally, Kayano’s classmates manage to rip her off him and they all make their escape. Every student comes out of this unharmed. Thank fuck.

The moment they're out there there's. A lot of things to process and a lot of explaining to do. Like Korosensei hurriedly rushes literally all of them miles away from that hell place, and the ENTIRE TIME THEY'RE ALL ASKING QUESTIONS. 

"WHAT WAS THAT??" 

"DID YOU KNOW YUKIMURA SENSEI??" 

"IS SHE OKAY?" (NO LMAO) 

"WERE YOU A PERSON TOO?" 

"HOW DOES SHE KNOW KAYANO? WHO'S AKARI?"

Korosensei and Kayano are getting flooded with all these questions while Aguri’s pretty much on the brink of sobbing because its the first time shes been outside in six months and the breeze feels so nice on her face and she can see the sky and oh my god its so overwhelming. She never thought she'd see or feel any of this again.

Like shes completely emotionally compromised. Lots of happy tears and sad tears and fuck-i-don't-even-know-what-emotion-this-is tears. 

Korosensei eventually manages to shoo all the students. Tells them to go home and get rest. He'll answer it all in the morning. But for now him, Aguri, and Kayano have a LOT to deal with. 

He removes Kayano's tentacles. It's about now he notices someone hanging back in the trees watching them and gets nervous for a second, but quickly realizes who it is.

"OKAY, YOU CAN GO HOME NOW, NAGISA." and hes like "OKAY OKAY OKAY. I JUST WANTED TO MAKE SURE KAYANO WAS REALLY OKAY" BEFORE SCRAMMING.

(BLESS HIS SOUL. HE’S A GOOD FRIEND.)

And kayano's like "Yay! No tentacles! Okay, so now you can do that to Aguri too, right?" and Korosensei and Aguri are like "hhahhahahahahhahhhhha." Because lets face it, tentacle implants and routinely having antimatter directly injected right into your bloodstream for months on end are pretty different situations. 

"I'm afraid not, Kayano." Korosensei says.

And Kayano's like "...Okay." and they head back to Kayano's place. Kayano just wants to go home with her sister, but she gets Aguri and Korosensei also have a lot to talk about, so she lets him stay the night.

Its clear the tentacles took a lot out of her because she's conked out before they know it. Aguri has to tuck her in. Cue more crying because she never thought she'd see her baby sister again and oh my god she's so tall and oh my god she dyed her hair and oh my god look at her sleeping so sweetly and oh my god she fought so hard for her and oh my god oh my god

Then Korosensei and Aguri go to Aguri's room. Which hasn’t been touched in months. Its depressing, really. But its also like coming home. 

She says she thinks she just wants to sleep, too. But like. Does that thing where you "want" to sleep but keep talking? Yeah. She just keeps saying "one more thing" and rambling to Korosensei about how traumatizing that entire experience was and how much she missed him and everyone else and how weird it is seeing everything again and none of this even feels real. Like she's going to wake up and she's going to be back there and she's never going to get to see them again. 

There's a LOTTTT of crying. But he's there to try his best to help.

She also 100% confesses to him and they PROBABLY make out, but its not like an "officially together" sort of thing because he realizes shes. Super emotionally compromised right now. But he promises that he gets it. He gets. Pretty much exactly what she's going through. And that he'll be there for her. No matter what, this time. 

Eventually she manages to sleep. It's sweet.

And the next morning is weird. ‘Cause all the kids and Korosensei and Aguri are waiting anxioussslyyy at the school. They're there super early. 

But Karasuma's equally as prepared. He SLAPS a newspaper on the desk. "HEY WHAT"S THIS ABOUT A LAB BEING BROKEN INTO LAST NIGHT??" 

And Korosensei's like "AHAHHAHAH...AHAHAH.... YOU THINK THAT'S BAD? WE ACTUALLY HAVE LIKE 800 MORE IMPORTANT THINGS TO TALK ABOUT." AND MOTIONS TO AGURI.

Karasuma loses his FUCKING MIND

"WHAT DID YOU DO!??!?!?!?"

Around now Irina's arriving and. You can imagine she's equally as baffled.

But Korosensei begs them to hear them out. And he finally sits down and explains his Tragic Backstory to his students (and more details of it to Karasuma) far earlier than he’d liked to have.

That’s great and all, but only raises the question of what to do now. Kids are already arguing about whether or not they don’t want to kill Korosensei anymore, and that’s not getting STARTED on Aguri. Do… does she need to die, too? There’s instantly EVEN MORE arguing over that, especially on Kayano and Korosensei’s part. Like that's a BIG FAT NO, CHIEF.

Aguri sheepishly admits she thinks that would be difficult anyways, and showcases her near invincibility. Karasuma loses his FUCKING MIND YET AGAIN and makes a lot of calls. 

He tries to dismiss class for the day, but Korosensei refuses. They actually have a bit of a fight over it. People NEED to come and collect Aguri and do tests. But Korosensei refuses to let her go through that alone after what she’s been through, and also refuses to shirk his job and let his kids miss class over this. Karasuma reluctantly allows a delay until class is over. Namely because its not like he (even with government help on his side) could forcibly take either of them in.

It becomes pretty clear pretty quickly why Korosensei fought so staunchly for this, aside from just his responsibilities as a teacher. It was for Aguri. He felt she needed this. To be in that normal environment and be a teacher again, even just for a day. 

Her demeanor's. different. And the students notice pretty quickly. She's nothing like the goofy happy go lucky Yukimura-sensei they had a few months ago. but she's trying her best, even if they're super worried for her.

Anyway, that night things go DOWN. the government figures Aguri is NEAR INVINCIBLE and shits themselves. It looks like the world’s going to fucking end. They work harder on developing more and more deadly things, but it looks.... bleak.

Meanwhile obviously the E Class, Karasuma, Irina, and Dos Horny Octopi are already putting their heads together to try and find a way to prevent that. While they try to deduce how to save the world AND their teachers, arrangements are made to let Aguri teach as well (With EVEN MORE money slid Gakuho’s way…) They get the scoop on Yanagisawa, and learn he’s in no condition to be a threat right now. (But I’m sure that won’t last.) And finally things return to… Some sort of normal, but it’s hard considering everything that’s gone down has shifted their views on everything so radically.

Anyways enter the COMFORT half of the this hurt/comfort AU.

From thereon out its about Aguri trying to find her place in the world and trying to find a way to be happy again while chipping away at her trauma. Trying to find a way to want to live again after feeling like she lost everything. About, like, ll the little things she missed and her emotional reactions to them and trying not to blame herself for feeling unhappy. About wondering if she'll never feel like the same person she was back then, and if that makes her broken (HEAVENS NO. OF COURSE NOT!) 

And of course, about Aguri reconnecting with her class, reuniting with her sister, getting to know Karasuma and Irina, and [reads smudged handwriting on hand] dating Korosensei.

Stuff like them going on dumb dates in their shitty normal people disguises and feeling awkward about how everyone's staring at them but then laughing because "They're totally staring at you more, dork!" 

Needless to say, Korosensei lives in this AU. 

The shield is still put up and its. Super sad. Like Aguri's stuck outside of it and it's 100% a callback to how they couldn’t touch each other before. Like going from being separated by that wall to being separated by that fucking shield. "I want to touch you Mister Reaper..." again indeed.

I don’t know exactly what I’m going to do with 2.0. I feel like Aguri would try and force Korosensei to reveal his identity during the 2.0 arc, all things considered. But I don’t know if that would make things better or worse. Would it just make 2.0 more vengeful, or is it not too late for him to find some peace and acknowledgement from his mentor? I... Don’t have an answer.

But either way, yes, with or without 2.0, things get NASTY in the shield like in canon when Yanagisawa shows his head (You thought Kayano maiming him was going to hold him down? NEVER.) And when it looks like Korosensei and the students are in danger, Aguri forces herself in through the shield despite the fact that it SERIOUSLY INJURES HER. (Like, God, even w her near invincible tentacle boost she's practically maiming hersel.) Because she NEEDS to protect Korosensei, and she NEEDS to protect those kids.

She lost everything once. She never thought she'd be happy again. But she is. She’s managed to find that. And she won’t let anyone fucking take that from her. She gets to be the one to defeat Yanagisawa, essentially thematically taking back her agency completely.

And something-something the kids use the power of media against the govt in the same way the govt used it against them, and livestream Koroagu’s beautiful reunion to the point that something something people don’t want them killed or something. Or maybe she shields Korosensei from the laser herself (Again at massive risk to herself) or both or I DONT KNOW. But either way they LIVE because they’ve been through much and they’ve earned it and I WANT them to.

Like in manga canon Yanagisawa survives but paralyzed. Aguri stops by once, talks a little (He can’t respond LMAOOO), essentially reaffirms she’s refound her happiness, she knows who she is, and that she doesn’t hate him. She’s scared of him. And she hates what he did to her. But she doesn’t hate him. Because that’s not the sort of person she is. It’s never been. And letting what he did to her take that from her would be letting him win. She says she hopes he finds a way to be happy someday, then walks out, reclaims her life, and never has to see him again. (Which obviously I don’t think is the best way/the only way/even a good way to react. You should NEVER feel obligated to forgive your abuser. EVER. Even superficially. But I do think it’s a very Aguri way.)

Her and the kids and Korosensei live happily ever after. Well. “Happily ever after.” There is no happily ever after after trauma. After depression. After wanting to die. But it does get better. And she’s finally, finally surrounded by people who love her. So maybe even if she’ll never quite be the same, that’s okay. She’s not broken. She’s pretty happy. And even if she’s not completely happy yet...

Who knows? Maybe one day she will be. 

And that’s a pretty beautiful thought.

[portraitavengers]

Portrait

Chapter 9 - Number 13 as years go by

Tick Tock  goes the clock on the wall, Lila’s eyes were transfixed upon the pair of hands as they slowly made their journey around from one side to the other. She sighed heavily, three months had passed without a problem. This handler of hers had not made themselves known. No knock at the door or casual meeting in the hallway between neighbours who wanted to make small talk about this or that.

Lila couldn’t bare to wait inside for another second longer, she moved towards the door. She had been far too patient, waiting for this mystery person to make themselves known to her. To sudden appearance out of left field, when it was convenient to them. This was an arrangement that was grating on her last nerve. 

She pulled her front door open, revealing the deathly silent hallway. No one would be awake at this early hour of the morning. Unless they were night owls working the graveyard shift, preferring the unsociable hours to escape the general hustle and bustle of the masses. Lila doubted that her neighbours were quite like this, she had started to notice patterns in their comings and goings with all the free time that she presently possessed.

She pulled the door slowly towards her back, trying to minimise the sound. She needed not to caught, she needed to make a break for freedom. Lila wanted to disappear into the night once more. Taking a few deep breaths, she took a few steps away from the door and towards that goal.

With her head held down, Lila passed the first few doors, they all remain silent and closed. This was a sign, waves of confidence rushed up from her toes. She continued on, her stride wider and fast as she made her way down towards the stairwell. She was too lost in her mission to notice a door had open.

“Out of a nightly stroll Miss Wright?” A voice called out from behind her, making Lila stop in her tracks. She froze in place, knowing that she had been stopped, discovered. She tried turning her head to look over her shoulder to see who it was. To see which one of them was awake and in the hall with her. She couldn’t turn her head far enough around. Lila had no choice but to turn around.

She soon found herself turned around, facing the way that she come from. Her eyes quickly landed upon the open door, finding a blonde haired woman leaning against the wooden doorframe. 

“I was unable to sleep” Lila found herself answering, as she realised this woman knew who she was, yet her face was unfamiliar. Lila had not seen in her in passing in the last three months, not even for but a moment. Then a thought dropped through the confusion, maybe this was one that she was waiting for. 

“I highly doubt that Miss Wright, I was planning to introduce myself in the morning” Frustration wrapped around the words as the blonde woman spoke, annoyed by this sudden change in her plans. “Yet here we are, I am your handler. Agent Sharon Carter but to prevent my cover being blown, you will call me Kate” She started briefly explaining the details but this was far from the right place for such a private conversation.

Agent Carter placed her hand upon her head out of sheer annoyance for this sudden change in her plans, but she needed to call it a night. “We will continue in the morning, right Miss Wright?” 

Lila stiffly nodded in reply, stunned by this strange interaction in the middle of the night in an empty hallway. “Sure but I have…” She started but the blonde agent interrupted her flow.

“I don’t doubt that you have many questions but in the morning. Good night Miss Wright” with that the conversation was over. Agent Carter didn’t hesitate to drift back into her apartment, closing the door, leaving Lila alone with her thoughts. She had a choice then a there, standing in the middle of empty corridor. Leave or go back to her apartment and wait for the morning. She torn between the two options. This was the moment that she had waited three months for, could she wait one more night?

She had waited this long, she sighed once more before making her decision. Lila headed home, to sleep and discover what tomorrow revealed

  Three years later

The early morning sun begun to breach the horizon, soon it would be shining down brightly, reflecting itself back upon the water of the lake that stood at the steps of the Lincoln memorial with greenery of the surrounding area, which would soon be soaking up the light of the dawning sun hidden below. 

It was a beautiful day, perfect for jogging around the area for both exercise and sheer pleasure. This was the reasoning that Sam Wilson had as he began his lap, all whilst knowing that another would be running the same daily route as him. Maybe today, he would be finally say hi. 

The great city of Washington D.C dwelled mere feet away, framing the sweeping, quiet park with it’s majesty. Forever reminding anyone who dared to glance backwards of the history that came with such a city, a crowning jewel where the country had been build up from. Sam felt a wave of proudness rise from deep within, as he slowly jogged on.

“On your left” He heard shouted from behind him, as a blonde haired muscular man, with a familiar face caught up with, before quickly dashing past him. That kind smile that blurred as the man disappeared into the distance continuing on with his lap. Sam did not think anything of, shaking his head chuckling to himself before he heard the sound of approaching footsteps from behind him once more.

“On your left”  Came once again, from the same male voice as he lapped Sam.  “Uh-huh on my left, got it.” He called back as he continued on his own lap. He had not answered before now. He tried to concentrate on controlling his breathing, as he pushed his body forward around his familiar haunt.

The familiar fast paced footsteps echo from behind once more, Sam knew what was coming. He knew that this man was going to shout out as he passed him by.  “Don’t say it, Don’t say it”   He shouts out in frustration, as the blonde rushes past. For a moment, there was silence but soon came a call.

“On your left”  Came for a third time,  “COME ON!”   Sam shouted loudly, showing his annoyance and frustration. He pushes on, rounding the corner, trying to catch up with him. His pace quickens but it is not enough to run shoulder to shoulder with the blonde man. His breathing deepens, as his lungs begin to burn. He knows now that he will not be able to reach the other’s man pace. It is simply impossible feat. He has to stop, just to catch his breath for a moment.

He slows his pace, until he comes to complete standstill before struggling over to rest beneath a tall tree. His breathing fast and unsteady as he stands there, shaded by the leaves and branches high above his head. Beads of sweat drip down his face, leaving wet streaks in their wake before he slides down the trunk to sit at the base of the tree with his back against the bark. The grass rustles as someone approaches, Sam looks up, as soon as he sees a shadow at his feet.

“Needs a medic?”  The same voice as before questions, worry and concern mingled amongst the words. He lifts his head, with his breathing returning, slowing back down. The pain and burning in his lungs dissipating away which was soon replaced with laughter. 

“I need a new set of lungs”  Sam jokingly said before continuing to speak “  You ran like thirteen miles in thirty minutes” Surprise and confusion lingered as he spoke, shocked that such a feat would be even remotely possibly but this man had done such a thing. He could not hazard a guess at the extent. 

“I guess I got a late start” His fellow runner answer explaining away for his actions. Sam couldn’t hold his response back, it had lingered upon the edge of his tongue for but a moment before suddenly falling.

“Oh, really? You should be ashamed of yourself. You should take another lap”  His words were softly scolding the man for his actions but there was no malice in his words. Sam found it easy to banter with this blonde stranger. He hesitated for a moment before speaking again but this time with a more playfully sarcastic tone.  “Did you just take it? I assumed you just took it” The reply was one that he wasn’t expecting to hear.

“What unit you with?”  The man said, with a curiosity that was almost tangible as he spoke. Sam’s eyebrows lifted in surprise but soon enough he answered honestly.  “Eighth, Pararescue. But now I'm working down at the VA. Sam Wilson”  He introduced himself finally, the blonde held his hand out in direct response to his words.

“Steve Rogers” He replied with a small smile upon his lips. Sam’s thoughts on how this man had been confirmed. Captain America, the man frozen in time. The sun shone brightly over their heads, as the pieces began to fall into place. He had considered the possibility that this man might of been Captain Steve Rogers who had saved the world twice. 

“I kind of put that together. Must have freaked you out coming home after the whole defrosting thing”  He said confirming what he already knew to Steve before sheepishly changing the topic, not wanting to make the conversation anymore awkward than it already was.  “It takes some getting used to. It's good to meet you, Sam” Steve spoke, honesty rung through. He was slowly getting used to the fact that he was struck here, seventy years in the future leaving those he knew in the past, behind him with no way of them catching up with him. He turns to leave, it’s time to head back home. Sam could tell that something was bothering Steve, why else would he be out here to run, clearly not to see the sights. He was running to escape the thoughts rushing through his mind. 

“It's your bed, right?”  Sam questioned, he had seen the signs before. The question had stopped Steve in his tracks, he turned his head to look back at the man before turning to completely face him.  “What's that?” Steve replied, wanting to see where this line of question was leading.

“Your bed, it's too soft. When I was over there I'd sleep on the ground and use rock for pillows, like a caveman. Now I'm home, lying in my bed, and it's like.. ” Sam explained, remembering those nights vividly, as if it had only been yesterday. Those nights were unforgettable. He stopped mid-sentence as he tried to find the right word to explain the feeling of laying in bed at night away from the sounds and horrors theatre of war. 

“Lying on a marshmallow. Feel like I'm gonna sink right to the floor” Steve finished the sentence for him, knowing what Sam felt at night, for he had experienced it each and every night that he laid his head down to sleep. Sam could only smile back at Steve, words had escaped him as the blonde man had hit the nail on the head. Understanding exactly what he went through when his head meet the soft pillow upon the bed. 

“How long?” Steve was curious about Sam, he could easily see a few similarities between himself and this man stood mere feet away. He could understand the struggles of coming away from the field of war. They were men who had been rearranged and scarred by their experiences, by what they saw and lived through. 

“Two tours” He started, each time he had gone back, Sam knew that he had returned a slightly different man. He was happy to be home but yet memories of war remained at the forefront of his mind haunting him from the moment that he closed his eyes. 

“You must miss the good old days, huh?”  He continued speaking as he crossed his arms, this time bouncing the question back to Steve’s court. He wanted to dig a little deeper, hoping that he would answer. He was pleasantly surprised to see that Steve had returned his verbal serve as he began to speak.

“Well, things aren't so bad. Food's a lot better, we used to boil everything. No polio is good. Internet, so helpful. I've been reading that a lot trying to catch up”  Steve reminisced, speaking for the both past and present. Remembering days with his mother when she would boil his clothes clean but things had rapidly moved on since then, without him.

“Marvin Gaye, 1972, "Trouble Man" soundtrack. Everything you've missed jammed into one album” Sam offered up, it was something that he had fond memories of, days and nights that spend jamming to that album brought a smile to his face. Those were good days, days before he went off to war like a good soldier. 

Steve nodded, eagerly listening to the suggestion that had been freely offered up to him. “I'll put it on the list” He replied, as he pushed a hand into his pocket, pulling out a small notebook and pen. He was going to add this to his growing list of events, music, movies and food that he had missed out on. Things to experience, moments to make. He scribbles down the title of the album at the bottom of the list but before he could thank Sam, he heard the now familiar sound of his phone going off in his other pocket, alerting him that a message had just come through. 

Steve’s eyes takes in the message, quickly reading what was written on the small screen before he then raises his gaze to meet Sam’s again before speaking and holding his hand as a sign of a friendly parting of ways.  “Alright, Sam, duty calls. Thanks for the run. If that's what you wanna call running” His words joking poking at the other man. Sam chuckles before quickly taking the hand offered to him, before shaking it. 

“Oh, that's how it is?” He teased back, the mood becoming lighter than before. It was almost as if they had been friends for years, teasing and poking fun at one another “Oh, that's how it is” Steve said without hesitation returned the quip, his smile reaching his eyes. It felt good to connect with a fellow soldier. Steve turns once more, to walk away.

“Okay. Any time you wanna stop by the VA, make me look awesome in front of the girl at the front desk, just let me know” Sam offered, laughing as he spoke knowing that there were other veterans like Steve who could always use a place to meet fellow soldiers, who understand what it was like going from the battlefield to home, struggling to adjust and accept the peace. Steve turned back around, to face Sam again to listening to his words, to his offer. “I'll keep it in mind.” Steve replied, with a smile upon his lips and promise lingering in his words as he spoke.

“Okay”  Sam responded quickly as the sound of car engine grew louder, closer. A black car with tinted windows pulled up on the curb beside them. The passenger side window rolled down, to revealed a red haired woman behind the wheel.  “Hey, fellas. Either one of you know where the Smithsonian is? I'm here to pick up a fossil.” She calls out to them, there was a playfulness to her words as she spoke. She was teasing them, well one of them at least.

“That's hilarious.”  Steve answers as he makes his way over to the parked vehicle. He reached for the door handle, pulling it open and without hesitation got it beside the woman. Sam took in the picture before him, a beautiful car with a just as beautiful woman driving it around the city. He wasn’t going to miss the chance to say something.  “How you doing?”  He flirted, smiling at her taking in what he could see.  “Hey” She answered back, with a quick greeting.

“Can't run everywhere”  Steve said, breaking the silence that had lingered in the moments after Natasha had spoken.  “No you can’t” Sam called back, taking one final look at both Steve and the red haired woman before the window quizzed back and the car darted away. What a strange morning it had been for him, he had not expected this when he had left home.

  London, England

Wolfe Ltd

Whispers in the dark had not failed to reach across the pond. She was still alive, Lila Wright was still out there. She had fallen off their radar for a few years but she would always reappeared. It had been her way for years. Lila was creature of habit, always reinventing herself in a town where no-one knew her story, her long entangled history that spanned decades. 

“You never change, do you”  A feminine voice spoke, looking down at the photo that sat in the centre of her desk.  “We’ve got your back Lila, We Wolfes are just as loyal as the animals whose name we bear” They continued, a friendliness lingered in the words as if they had been friends for years but this was not the case. Sybil Colvin-Wolfe had never had the chance to meet the woman in question. Her beloved had always told her that Lila wasn’t ready, that she had been avoiding them for decades. For Elise had left instructions and warnings in her will for those left behind, and for those who were not yet born. 

“Maybe it’s time we met and welcomed you back in the fold like Elise did all those years ago”  She said loudly to the empty room, the words echoing back to her as they bounced off the walls. She smiled widely, before pressing the intercom.  “Joseph, can you let the Missus and Kia know, that I’ll be late home tonight. I have a important meeting to prepare for. One that simply can’t wait” She said through the speaker to her trusty assistant, she hated missing dinners with both of her lady loves but this was something that could not be put on hold. Lila Wright might not be ready but the Wolfe family was.

  It was time for a reunion, that was had been put on hold for far too long

[fanatical-san]

Omg 6, 22 or 24 for Drarry - I can’t decide which one as I think they’d all be amazing, so I’ll leave it up to you! :)

I have spent a day writing these, so I apologise if the quality’s really low. Fasting doesn’t really help, either XD

I answered 24 here for another person here, so you can go read it (AO3 version here). I answered six for you as a separate post here (and there’s also an AO3 version). And finally, here’s twenty two (which is also available on AO3): “Sorry.You’re the first person I’ve spoken to in ten years.” I’ve called the piece ‘Herbal Tea’. Yep, it’s one of those.

And yes, I answered them all, because I couldn’t help myself. A massive shoutout to @skarhead and @jostaart, though, because I trawled through their brilliant blogs for inspiration, and these three drarry fics are the result. Whilst they’re based on the prompt, not particular artwork, @skarhead and @jostaart was crucial for bringing my ideas to life! And um, I got a little carried away with this one, so some of it’s under a cut. I hope you enjoy it, and that it’s not completely boring. Here goes:

The November air is chilly, although the temperature isn’treally anything new to Harry, living in Britain. There’s something distinctlydifferent about it to October, though, and he takes a moment to pause andbreathe it in. He’s been doing that more and more; taking a moment to pause. Heneeds it nowadays, especially; ever since declining the position of Head Aurorand resigning completely, the press has been swarming around him insistently,which is a feat considering how much they regularly pester him about thecontinued absence of any romantic relationship. Hermione does her best to keepthem away, but it’s his problem to deal with, and deal with it he does.

Self-care is something he’s been neglecting for years now,trying to stay above everyone else’sstandards rather than his own. He should’ve been able to move on from the war,but his Mind Healer tells him that by throwing himself into the path of theDark Arts for a living, he’s been forcing himself to hang on to those toxicmemories. Well, not anymore, and he feels no obligation to explain it to anyoneapart from his friends and family, who wholeheartedly agree with him. At leasthe’s done that right.

Harry is rudely yanked out of his thoughts by someonerunning into him, full force. The weight of the person topples him over, andHarry is ready to give them a piece of his mind, before he looks up at a facethat, whilst having matured since he saw it last, is still shockingly familiar.

“…Malfoy?!” Ifthere was one person that would not have been found in Muggle Manchester, ofall places, it would be Draco Malfoy. Not only because Malfoy Manor was inWiltshire, and not even because he was in a Muggle area rather than a wizardingarea, but because Malfoy hadn’t been seenfor years. Most people assumed that he’d either remained reclusive within hisown house, or that he’d moved. Some hoped that he’d been dealt with, Harrybeing the polar opposite; he’d tried to find Malfoy multiple times, and forvarious reasons, with no success. He’d stopped himself from searching MalfoyManor, because it would’ve looked obsessive, and Ron and Hermione were alreadyworried for him.

And now, here he is, on top of Harry, looking terrified. Heclutches Harry’s jacket, and blurts:

“Potter, I know you hate me, but I will pay you whatever youwant to just get me out of here.” Hisvoice is rough and hoarse, and he seems more surprised than Harry is at hearingthose words. Harry wants to ask more, but at that moment, he hears the firstyell.

Malfoy’s crystal grey eyes look desperately into Harry’s,and something in him compels him to wrap one arm around the platinum blonde andDisapparate – straight to his house, which is under the Fidelius Charm. There’sno turning back now; Malfoy knows the location of his home.

Speaking of Malfoy, the man is passed out on his sofa. Hishair is expertly ruffled, and falls in waves around his angular face. He’slean; too lean, as if he hasn’t been eating well. Whilst he wears designerclothes (Muggle, strangely enough), it’s apparent that he’s been wearing themfor too long.

As dishevelled as he is, Malfoy still manages to look…angelic, almost, which is unsettling,because Malfoy is not an angel in any way. He decides to leave him for now,although questions are buzzing about his mind. Harry knows from experience thatit’s never a good idea to dwell on such thoughts, or to bombard a person withquestions after they’ve passed out.

Harry instead decides to make some hot drinks. Luna showedhim a wonderful recipe for various herbal teas that work different calmingeffects into a person, so Harry begins brewing a certain tea that has specialsoothing properties. Harry loses himself in the rhythm of stirring and addingingredients, to the extent that he doesn’t notice Malfoy until the blonde isstanding next to him. He says nothing, choosing to let Malfoy speak when he’scomfortable to.

It’s a surreal situation; standing in a cosy kitchen, thepeaceful aroma of herbal tea filling the air, with Malfoy by his side. It’s notunwelcome, though; Harry finds that he doesn’t mind the company. Malfoy clearshis throat.

“You may possibly have the most uncomfortable couch I’ve ever crashed on, Potter.” His voice isweak, but his tone strong, and Harry is briefly reminded of a darker time, andthe words, ‘I can’t be sure’. Hepushes it from his mind, and addresses Malfoy.

“Nice to see you haven’t changed, Malfoy.” He says itquietly, but Malfoy freezes at the words for a second, before replying.

“Sorry. You’re the first person I’ve spoken to in tenyears.” Harry drops the spoon, startled; he’s not expecting to hear that at all. Malfoy deftly catches thespoon, though, and takes over brewing. “That’s quite an advanced magical tearecipe you’re making, Potter,” he says absentmindedly. “Consider me impressed.”

Harry still hasn’t quite absorbed the information, and heknows it’s a bad idea to ask, but he does it nonetheless.

“Malfoy…what do you mean, first person you’ve spoken to inten years?” Harry speaks slowly and hesitantly, not sure how Malfoy is going toreact. The blonde simply scoffs.

“Potter, I’m not an injured kitten. You don’t need to usethat tone with me.”

“Sorry.”

“You’re still doing it.”

“Sorry?” Harry doesn’t want to overstep his boundaries; heneeds to avoid Malfoy closing off. The kitchen is quiet for a minute or so, thesilence broken only by the soft swish of the tea being stirred.

“Thanks, though,”Malfoy says after a while, his voice softer than before. “for helping me getout of there. But I don’t want you to treat me like a trauma victim.”

Harry doesn’t know if it’s right to respond, so he doesn’t,but gets two mugs out of the cupboard. Malfoy pours the drinks, appearingrelaxed, but Harry doesn’t believe that he’s just suddenly alright.

“Yeah, okay. But I’m not going to tell anyone anything youtell me. What you say here stays here, I swear. So, try to trust me, even ifit’s only for now. Please.” Malfoy sighs.

“Do you have a better place to talk?”

*

Snowflakes fall lightly, and lights twinkle in the distanceas he and Malfoy sip their hot drinks out on the balcony.

The balcony is one of the perks of Harry’s home, one hewasn’t quite expecting. It’s spacious, and with a few waterproof charms,warming charms, as well as a few select beanbags, it’s become one of hisfavourite spots in the house.

“And I just stopped trying. There were so many people afterme. I would stay over at Blaise’s, or Pansy’s, or Greg’s, never sayinganything, but they were probably the only reason I survived. It was never safeenough, though; I had to keep moving constantly.”

“The DMLE got rid of all the members, though; we trackedthem all down. It was a major investigation at the time.” Malfoy laughsbitterly.

“The Aurors got rid of the main body. They had hired peopleto carry out their dirty work for them. As you know, some of the leaders werein too high a position to have each target killed personally. The people afterme were some of those employees, still intent on revenge.” Harry groans,frustrated.

“This is a whole other issue. How many were there?” Malfoy’slooking out over the other buildings, and something about the sight draws Harryto him.

“About thirty-five,” he says. Harry can’t believe thatMalfoy was able to survive that many trained killers after him especially. He’sabout to reply, when Malfoy continues. “I don’t blame them. I can’t beforgiven.”

“Malfoy-”

“Draco. Call meDraco. We aren’t kids anymore.”

“Draco,” Harry corrects himself, turning to face himproperly. “the people hunting down ex Death Eaters are the ones in the wrong.It’s the kind of behaviour that started a war in the first place. And I forgaveyou years ago; you are most definitelycapable of being forgiven, but you have to forgive yourself first. No-one else can do that for you.”

Draco chuckles.

“When did you become so sappy, Potter?” Harry rolls hiseyes. Of course Draco isn’t going to take it seriously. These are words comingfrom him after all.

“If I get to call you Draco, you get to call me Harry.”Draco shoots him a pointed look.

“Fine then, Harry;where is this all coming from? Younger you probably would’ve told me that Iabsolutely can’t be forgiven and thatI’m being pathetic. What changed?”

“I grew up,” Harry answers seriously.

“You mean you grew older.You’re still really freaking short,” Draco teases.

“Shut up,” Harrygrumbles in response, but he’s smiling.

*

“Are you sure about this?” Draco asks sceptically, surveyingthe room. It’s well furnished, with an ensuite and all. A king-sized bed stands proudly in the centre, with lusciousred curtains surrounding the four-poster bed.

“Draco, Narcissa wantsyou to stay with me. I’m not going to say no to her. And besides, now that youaren’t as bigoted, you’re actually a decent person.” Draco sighs in defeat,answering back nonetheless.

“Since when were youso chummy with my mother?” heretorts. But Draco full well knows that this is the safest place for him. Hismother was brave enough to approach the Saviourof the Wizarding World, of all people, and who’s Draco to say no to somerefuge?

Plus, Harry himself is a bonus. Gone is the scrawny,righteous kid that Draco always despised. He’s not actually grown that muchtaller, but it suits him. Years of Auror work have served him well, buildingsome muscle and defining his jawline, and Draco has found himself staring moretimes than he’s comfortable with.

“Are you really going to throw a fuss about this?” Harry asks with an eyebrowraised, and Draco smiles sweetly.

“Of course not, oh Saviour.” Harry punches him in the armlightly.

“I’ve told you not to call me that, Ferret.”

“Whatever you say, GoldenBoy.”

“Prat.”

“Scarhead.”

“Are you two really bickering at this age?” Narcissa says, appearing from the stairs. “Anyonewould’ve thought you two were still schoolboys. Now,” she says, addressingDraco, “are you all settled in?”

“Yes, Mother,” Draco replies, earning a look from Harry.Narcissa doesn’t seem to notice this when she turns to him.

“Please tell me if he causes any sort of trouble. I know howpicky he can be.” Draco splutters.

“Mother!” Narcissa only smiles knowingly at her son,sweeping him into a hug.

“You know I love you, Draco. Stay safe for me, darling.”Draco hugs her back for a long moment, flooded by how much he’s missed her. Shepulls back and looks at him. “You’re safe; Harry Potter is looking after you.”

And aren’t those just the words that he never imagined hewould hear?

*

The first time Harry wakes up next to Draco is over a monthlater, on Christmas Day. Well, wake upis relative term. It’s much more accurate to say that he’s forced awake by aparticularly grouchy Draco yelling in his ear. He opens his eyes blearily tofind that he’s lying on Draco’s chest, arms wrapped out around him. Harry turnsa bright red and scrambles back, embarrassed and confused.

“Draco? What are you doing in my bed?” Draco’s cheeks becomea matching shade of red.

“You forgot to put up those Silencing Charms last night.” Oh shit. “You were screaming, and I cameto wake you up, but you, uh…you seemed to want me to stay. So I did.”

If the ground could just open up and swallow him, that wouldbe wonderful.

“Yeah, um…sorry about that.” Draco rolls his eyes.

“Don’t fucking apologise, Harry; it was my own decision.”Harry tries to respond, but ends up yawning, making Draco smile a little.

“What time is it, anyway?” Harry asks, rubbing his eyes inan attempt to feel more awake. It doesn’t work.

“Six a.m.,” Draco replies smoothly.

“What?! Why the hell would you wake me up so early,Draco?” Harry complains, but Draco simply leaves the room. Harry follows him,demanding an explanation. They end up in the living room together, where Dracopoints to a present under the tree that Harry is certain wasn’t there before.It’s addressed to him. Harry hesitantly picks it up.

“I don’t know if you’re waiting for next Christmas,” Dracodrawls, “but I’d recommend you open it.” Harry doesn’t say anything, butcarefully pulls the ribbon off, and not-so-delicately gets rid of the wrappingpaper. Inside is a perfectly sculpted crystal snow globe, with two miniaturefigures inside it, sitting on a balcony and sipping drinks. Harry stares at it,transfixed.

“Here,” Draco says, gently twisting a key on the side of theglobe. Soft music begins to play, and the figures rotate slowly.

“Draco,” Harry breathes. “It’s…it’s gorgeous. You didn’t have to…”

“I thought it would look good on the mantelpiece,” heresponds simply, placing it there himself. He turns back to Harry, trying togauge Harry’s next move. “Well…Merry Christm-oof!” Harry tackles him to the ground in a bearhug, and they staylike that, until Harry pulls back slightly.

“I don’t know about you, but I’m frankly still knackered.Wanna get some more sleep?” Draco grins at him in a way that makes Harry’sheart clench ever-so-slightly.

He doesn’t know whatit is exactly, but Harry does knowthat this is the beginning of something great.

As they go back to bed, comfortable in each other’s embrace,snowflakes begin to fall softly outside, just like on the very first day thatthe universe threw Harry and Draco back together.

Yes, it was fricking long. Hope you liked it, though! Have a lovely day

[lostinthe-pines-blog]

Fate Doesn’t Write My Stories pt. 6 - Dreamers

This is a multi-chapter story about MC, and Chris finding their way back together after years of being separated post graduation. Chris’s career takes him to Boston, a city he’d promised was her territory. But it’s not just Chris, fate has seemingly brought the entire Hartfeld crew back together.

NOTE: This is a fictional story based on Pixelberry’s Choices App. *Books The Freshman, The Sophomore, The Junior. I am not affiliated with Pixelberry nor do I own the rights to their original characters.

 Tags @jared2612  @katurrade @annekebbphotography 

The little red light on the bottom left of MC’s ancient laptop began to flash, her battery was dying. Had they really been talking that long? MC grabbed a pen to continue taking notes as she powered down her laptop. She’s really hit it off now with the young athlete and his stories intrigued her. Three hours they’d been talking, shocked the pair of them hadn’t been kicked out of the small coffee shop she looked around her gaze focusing out the bay window she’d looked out before. Her focus was pulled from the conversation as she noticed Chris sitting on a park bench a crossed the street. Her mind began to wonder… had he been there the entire time? MC looked back to Miles as the two of them finished their conversation.

“Thank you again for meeting with me” She thanked him graciously. “I’ll do my best to put out the honest and true version of who you are. The Patriots are lucky to have a player like you.”

Miles nods humbly but doesn't dwell on her praises. “Would you mind if I asked you a question? You don’t have to answer it…” he pauses patiently waiting her response.

“Sure?” she responds cautiously.

“I know nothing about you or your past with Chris, but I do know whatever he did he’s extremely sorry for it. Would you ever think about giving him a second chance?”

Miles inquiry settles in her mind as she looks down to her lap. How was she supposed to tell Miles that Chris had ruined any chance of that when her body was telling her otherwise. After a few uncomfortably long moments MC looks up to Miles. “I have a boyfriend” she gives a simple and childish answer.

“That is the most bullshit excuse..” Miles yells and MC knows it’s true. “I spent 3 hours baring my soul to you MC and the best you give me is ‘I have a boyfriend’. I would have rather you taken my offer not to answer at all” his voice playful now. “Seriously set your boyfriend aside, does my friend” he pauses “Does my best friend, even have a chance with you? Or should I tell him to move on?”

MC takes a deep breath and admits to herself, and the stranger before her something she’d know for the last 4 years. If Chris ever sobered up, if he ever apologized and came back she knew she’d fall for him again. MC’s eyes meet Miles now as she tries to resist the urge to speak the truth. “Yes, he does” she says lightly and shoves her notepad in her purse. Reaching her hand out quickly for a handshake she stands from her seat. “Thank you for the interview, I’ll send you a copy of the article before sending it to publish.” she harshly changes the subject and Miles yet again stops her.

“MC you promised me something in return for this” he reminds her his gaze moving out the bay window to where she’d been looking before.  “That man has waited outside on that bench for 3 hours.” his voice soft, “Him and I drove separately, he’s not out there waiting for me.” Miles looks to her shaking her hand and walking away, as he reaches the door he looks back to the auburn haired writer. “Don’t break your promise to me MC.” his voice serious and almost threatening.

MC stands in the coffee shop her head and heart pounding. She needed to get home she needed to start writing but her moral compass was leading her toward the rusted park bench. “Ughhhh.” she exclaimed while forcing her laptop into her bag out of frustration. She looks out the window, Miles gone and Chris still waiting. She swings her bag over her shoulder and jay walks a crossed the street quickly.

Chris is so focused on whatever he’s reading on his phone he doesn’t even see her coming. He’s startled when her voice fills his ears.

“I keep my promises, whether I want to or not.” her voice stern now as she fights her body’s instincts. “So you wanna talk? This might be your only chance.” MC was straight forward and bold. She’d been burned by this sandy haired boy before and she had truly learned from it. She was independent now, she didn’t need a man anymore, not even Carter.

Chris’s eyes meet hers already apologetic. “Can I walk you somewhere?” Chris asks standing to meet her. “If by the end of it you don’t want to talk again, we don’t have to. I’ll continue to run Miles’s publicity through you but that will be the extent of our communication.”

MC nods one hand resting on the strap of her bag she falls in line next to the man who’d once consumed her every thought. The pair of them walk silently for far too long before Chris realizes he’s missing out on time with her.

“You look great” he starts and immediately regrets his choice in words. “Not that you didn’t before MC.” his eyes fall to the ground as he leads her up the street. “I’m an open book now and I want you to ask me anything… I’ll answer. You deserve answers.”

MC looks to him but his eyes never leave the ground. She studies his face and feels worry radiating off of him. Four years ago she would have used this opportunity to yell about anything but now she only had a few questions. “Was it hard? Your recovery? Was it hard?”

Chris looks over at her shocked and for the first time in four years their eyes finally meet. He mindlessly studies the hazel coloring and she focuses on the once comforting blue. He’s shocked that out of everything she could ask her question was about him, about his healing. He’s taken back but he does his best to answer honestly.

“It took a year to truly snap out of it” he recalls “I moved back home and for the sake of my siblings my mom cut me off of everything. I’d be lying if I said it was easy. The pain and headaches, detoxing it was all horrible. Having to face my sister knowing that she knew I wasn’t truly myself anymore, that was harder. I couldn’t be the brother she’d looked up too... It was around Christmas that year that I finally started to find myself again, I worked for a Christmas Tree lot. I spent a lot of time chopping, wrapping and driving trees around. That time alone in the cold was what truly healed me. By March I’d finally stopped craving alcohol though it still tempts me even today. I haven’t had a drop since that March.” he answers with a hint of pride. “It was the longest year of my life though there were a few small victories. Almost a year to the date of the crash I won the lawsuit against the driver. He was jailed  and I came into enough money to get me back on my feet.”

MC analyzes his response, “I’m happy for you Chris.” she says softly almost hoping he wouldn’t hear it. “How’d you end up working with Miles?” she questions avoiding the subject of their demise at all.

“My recruiter from the Eagles, he met with me in August of the following year. He was very good to me when he didn’t need to be. He said he saw promise in me not just in my sports talent but my business talent as well. He offered me a job to assist him for a year, try my hand at the business side of the NFL.” Chris laughs, “It was the closest I’d been to a football field in over a year and I loved it. After my year I got a couple recommendations and a coworker Jonathan asked me to move with him to co manage a new player for the Seahawks. While Jonathan quit halfway through the season Miles asked me to stay and I can’t imagine turning my back on him now. He’s frustrating, but he’s also wise beyond his years.”  

MC doesn’t respond this time allowing silence to fall over them again. She begins to recognize the streets they were walking down. She didn’t know what exactly he was playing at but he was leading her to Harvard. They enter through an opening in one of the gates and they begin to walk through the connected courtyards surrounding the old stone buildings. MC knew this campus as if she’d attended here. She toured the school three separate times in high school.  Chris leads her to the cement steps outside of the Widener Library. They sit next to each other sharing a step near the top in the shade. MC is uncertain of why he’d lead her hear, but her heart knew he had deeper intentions behind the choice.

“I know this place means a lot to you.” Chris begins knowing now he’ll be entering treacherous grounds. “I don’t want to ruin it by talking to you here but I need you to know a few things.” he looks over at her trying his hardest not to break eye contact no matter how truthful he became. “The biggest mistake I have ever made was letting you go. I had convinced myself that you would be better off without me. And you have been, you’ve built a life for yourself. But that Christmas I realized how much I really missed you. I knew you’d never forgive me so I had to live without you. I tried dating” he laughs “None of them worked out… in fact some of them were completely disastrous.” he chuckles at the memories running through his head. “None of them were you.”

“Chris…” MC begins but doesn't know how to continue. Her mind wanted to scream and yell and remind him of the pain he’d put her through but her heart and her gut wanted to hug him to remind him of what her embrace felt like. She’d never really felt this type of conflict before.

“I just want you to know that you’re the only girl for me. I’m sure I could fool myself into loving someone else, but deep down I know they wouldn't be you. Regardless I made my bed and I fully intend to lie in it. I let you go and that was my mistake.” he moves his eyes from her proud yet saddened by his confession. Looking at his fidgeting hands in his lap now he speaks again. “Harvard was your dream, and NFL was mine. While neither of us truly accomplished those dreams they are still apart of us. It’s my hope that in the last four years you haven’t stopped dreaming. I hope that you still wear your Harvard sweatshirt from your Jr. High years whenever you get cold at night. I was truly unlucky to not be there to share the past few years with you but it is my strongest hope that you will let me share the next few. Maybe not by your side but as your friend and truly as one of your biggest fans.”

MC boldly moves her right hand over his and slides her left hand to his cheek to lift his eyes to her. “You broke me.” She admits her eyes full of pain. She watches the pain transfer to his eyes though he doesn’t look away. “And I would love nothing more than to let you in, to let you fix this. But I’ve changed and unlike you I have fallen in love again.” she lies now, she’s using Carter as an excuse not to open up. MC loved Carter but knew she would never be with him forever. She selfishly kept him around.

“Friends then?” Chris questions.

MC flashes him a smile “Friends” she agrees.

The two of them wandered the campus for hours stopping at bookstores, coffee shops and gift shops as they caught up. Chris shares the stories of a few disastrous dates and MC shares about her promiscuous roommate Molly. They laugh about both of them avoiding Becca’s wedding in fear of seeing each other. The sun has gone down now and MC has lost all her writing time and forgotten her promise to celebrate with Carter. The two of them finally approach her apartment building and she turns to say goodbye. “Chris, Kaitlyn has a concert here in Boston tomorrow night. Zack, Becca and I are all going… you should join us.” she offers.

“I wouldn’t miss it” he nods and takes a step backwards down the steps leading toward her door.

“Wait!” MC says reluctant again to say goodbye. She follows his movements down the step and kisses his cheek softly, lingering longer than she should have. “It’s good to have you back.” she admits before turning inside quickly.

[geek-patient-zero]

Part 1, Chapter 7

Or: Lameth the Suburbanite Schlub

Blood War: Masquerade of the Red Death Trilogy Volume 1

St. Louis—March 11, 1994

When we last left Dire McCann, he had three problems: the mystery of the Red Death and what connection he could have with the rising Nictuku, Flavia figuring out that he’s secretly an ancient and powerful Methuselah possessing a human body, and Rachel Young, the singer from The Club Diabolique and suspected assassin of Tyrus Benedict, stealing his mail from his office while he was out. Now he’s leaving his office and going home to have a drink, think about those problems a little more, and hit the hay.

For the first two pages, the narrative further establishes how the World of Darkness is a Harsher, Crueler Version of Our World, and how cautious, suspicious, and prepared McCann is as a result. He waits ten minutes and spends more money for a security guard to get his car out of a city-run underground parking lot.

Despite security cameras and motorcycle patrols, muggings, rapes, and murders were common occurrences in these parking garages. Rumors had it that the security patrols were the ones responsible for many of the crimes. No one knew for sure, as dead men told no tales.

Evil rent-a-cops aren’t the only plague on the city.

McCann didn’t mind spending the extra money if it avoided unnecessary confrontation. The city was a dangerous place. Urban America was increasingly becoming a jungle in which only the strongest and smartest survived. More people died these days from gunshot wounds than from any disease.

But don’t worry. Our government’s hard at work making sure preventable illnesses come in at a close second.

The government claimed that crime was under control. But nobody believed the politicians. The truth was on the streets.

Survival depended more on recognizing the perils that haunted daily life and adjusting to them than on superior firepower. A fact of life in the nightmarish world of modern society was that someone else always possessed superior weaponry.

Good to know in the Stark, Desolate Landscape of the World of Darkness, with all it’s vampires, werewolves, and wraiths, gun violence is still the bigger problem. ‘Murika!

McCann lives in the suburbs, instantly losing some cool points. I bet you thought, after all that talk about Urban America being a jungle where only the strong survive, he’d live in a shitty apartment in the city where you need to have street smarts to survive just getting to your floor. Nope. Suburbs. It makes all the stuff about how dangerous the city is sound like a sheltered suburbanite repeating something Tom and Susan told them in hushed tones at the Nelsons’ yard sale.

But McCann doesn’t want to live just anywhere. He wants somewhere private and secure.

McCann lived in a small brick home in a new development a few blocks off Highway 80. Located on a wide lot at the end of a quiet street, it was surrounded by a wrought-iron security fence, isolating the building from the rest of the block. Which was exactly what the detective desired. He wanted to be left alone. In these troubled times, no one considered his security measures the least bit unusual.

One of those homeowners, huh? There’s at least one house on the block that has security cameras or a pack of doberman guard dogs or something, even in the safest neighborhood. Who knows, there could be an “urban” person a few blocks closer to the highway just waiting to case your home.

He had bought the house for cash less than a year before, when he first decided to settle in the St. Louis area. He knew none of his neighbors and had no interest in meeting them. He worked at night and slept during the day. The few times he had seen anyone he had raised a hand in greeting, but said nothing. McCann considered his home a safe place to rest and relax. His office served as his base of operations. He socialized in neither of them.

Someone’s never watched The ‘Burbs. Buying a house with cash, surrounded by a wrought-iron leave-me-the-fuck-alone security fence, working and sleeping at odd hours, and never speaking to anyone? All while living near people often stereotyped as gossipy rumormongers who never mind their own business and spy on anyone “unusual”? A private person like McCann should never be able to rest and relax. He’d live in fear that somehow, someday, Tom Hanks would break into his house and discover all his World of Darkness secrets.

Alright, enough talking about suburbs like I don’t comfortably live in one. McCann parks his car in the garage but before he enters his house, he checks on his real security system by placing his hand on the wall.

Certain arcane rituals from the dawn of civilization imbued a home with the personality of its owner.

McCann’s house is also a smug secretive jerk who thinks it’s the greatest and wisest schemer ever. Aww, look, he’s comforting the sexy white house across the street whose neighbor burned down. Oh no, it accidentally gave away its biggest secret!

A master magician, and McCann was among the greatest ever to walk the Earth, could immediately sense any disturbance in their dwelling.

I know I said McCann only knew simple parlor tricks to barely pass as a mage, but I might’ve downplayed the true extent of his powers. A bit.

There was none. McCann was safe. At least for the moment, neither the Red Death nor the mysterious Ms. Young had discovered his hideaway.

Shame. It would’ve been funny if he went inside and scary ol’ Red Death was casually relaxing on his couch like Darkseid.

Later, McCann’s sitting in his sofa, drink in hand, listening to Billie Holliday on the stereo. We get a description of the room, and it’s nothing special. Sofa, coffee table, no TV. McCann believes in “simple comforts” but the real point is that he doesn’t have many valuable possessions because he moves around a lot, never staying in one place for long. Reminds me of a friend of mine. He said he had wanderlust, but I suspect he just didn’t know what he wanted to do in life, chasing one passion before getting distracted by another. Lost track of him somewhere down in Florida. McCann moves around for a very different reason, though. His wandering was necessary for his “complex scheme.”

But as he relaxes, he wonders if all his moving around and plotting is even worth it anymore.

At times, he wondered why he still bothered playing the game. So many of his kind no longer struggled. Some had plunged into the great unknown from which there was no return, while others had retreated from cruel reality into a dreamworld of their own creation. He was among a handful who continued fighting. In truth, the prize hardly seemed important any longer. It was the diversion that kept him amused.

The detective shook his head and finished his nightcap. He had engaged in this mental exercise a thousand times and never arrived at a satisfactory conclusion. He was like Ol’ Man River, ‘tired of living, but scared of dying.’ For those like himself, there were no easy answers. Just more questions.

McCann finishes his introspective episode and thinks about the group he learned the Red Death was part of thanks to his bullshit telepathy power; The Children of Dreadful Night. He’s never heard of them before, but the “Dreadful Night” part makes him suspect they’re a Gehenna cult. They’re typically groups of vampires who either want to prevent Gehenna or find a way to save themselves from the Antediluvians when it begins. Then there are the ones who want to help bring it about, but the narrative is focusing on the ones who fear Gehenna for one reason or other. Technically the Sabbat is one huge Gehenna cult, but they’re much more powerful and influential than the smaller groups the term usually refers to. More cults have been springing up lately.

As it did many mortals, the approaching end of the millennium frightened them.

Oh right, the Y2K bug. I doubt that’s calming the Kindred down either.

McCann used to think the cultists were just a bunch of fringe crazies, but now, with the Red Death...

Speaking of, remember when McCann used his brain probe on the Red Death and learned that he both recognized him and had a pretty awesome counter for his psychic powers? He’s worried about that too. It means that Red D. knows his true identity somehow. He’d kept a low profile the past few decades, presumably while separating his Dire McCann identity from whatever one he was using just before that, and preferred “to forward his schemes through unsuspecting agents.” Whatever those agents were doing, no one should have suspected McCann was involved.

He felt certain no evidence existed associating the human detective, Dire McCann, and Lameth, the Dark Messiah of the Kindred.

Wow, okay, so that’s one of the floweriest wannabe impressive not impressive fucking 90′s Image Comics titles you can give a shmuck like McCann. Not to mention redundant. We already had ~*~The Dark Angels~*~, did we also need ~*~The Dark Messiah~*~ too?

The funny thing is, I think Weinberg knew that title was over-the-top. Back when McCann was thinking about the Children of Dreadful Night, there’s a line about how “Kindred possessed a bizarre fondness for nicknames.” Like he thought that if he didn’t show at least a hint of irony, every nerd, geek, or corporate suit that worked on nerd and geek franchises would rise as one, like a perma-virgin hivemind, and institute a cross-genre ban on “The Dark” as part of a character’s title, rank, or nickname. And then where would vampire fiction be?

Shaking his head, McCann wondered if Anis was behind the attack. She was one of the few Kindred who knew many of his secrets. And, like him, she continued to plot, undaunted by the centuries.

Hold up. I know what you’re all thinking. Anis is a perfectly legit Arabic name. Quit giggling.

McCann considers the other weird things that happened last night. Ms. Young was genuinely terrified of the Red Death, convincing McCann that they weren’t working together, but he still believes she killed Tyrus Benedict, stole the Baba Yaga photos, and later stole his mail from his office. And there was that phone call he got, the one warning him of the attack before it happened, made from an out of service phone booth, whose information was erased from McCann’s recording devices the moment it ended. Or, as the narrative puts it:

Reality had twisted immediately after he received the warning, which hinted that an extremely potent mage was at work.

Oh great. Actual mages.

Then there’re the assassins. We already know that Makish hired them on the Red Death’s orders, but McCann doesn’t yet. 

He still has the billfold he pocketed from one of the assassins.

Except for the money he had removed earlier, it was absolutely empty. However, that didn’t mean that it couldn’t reveal secrets.

The detective rested the leather billfold on the coffee table. Placing both hands on it, he let loose the full power of his mighty will. The air wavered with titanic energies. Squeezing his eyes shut, McCann concentrated on a solitary word. Find.

Despite that whole thing about the air wavering with titanic energies, what he’s doing is most likely The Spirit’s Touch, a power from the third tier of the Auspex discipline, which let’s you use an object’s “resonance” to learn things about it and its owner. Pretty basic, and you don’t have to be a Dark Messiah from the dawn of time to use it, but handy for detective work like this.

This is also the second time that a Kindred discipline being used is described as someone using their “mighty will.” I know some powers were namedropped earlier, like Fires of the Inferno and Body of Fire, but it makes me wonder how many listed disciplines actually have names in-universe. If a player has their character activate Awe, in-universe does the character think “I’m using Awe, the first tier Presence power”? Or “I will extend my mighty will to get everyone’s attention”? Like how Superman’s laser vision is just called laser vision and not “Burning Gaze of Rao.” 

Not that Weinberg should’ve used the discipline name every time. “The detective used Auspex” would be much duller writing.

The detective learns that the billfold’s from Washington, D.C.  It was stolen from a government file clerk by the assassin, just so he’d have somewhere to keep the money McCann found in it. We learn about the Kindred’s political situation in Washington. The part of it that doesn’t involve the spreading gang wars.

The nation’s capital had long been a source of friction between the Camarilla and the Sabbat. Though the Camarilla controlled the city, both organizations had agents in the suburbs.

Must be like a cross between Desperate Housewives and Cannibal Holocaust out there. A bit of Weeds, too.

The constantly shifting population also brought in new Kindred. Each sect controlled politicians and lobbyists.

I always had my suspicions about the Long Pig Lobby.

However, the frequent changes in government officials thwarted their ambitions for absolute domination of the government.

That darned democracy, making life in Washington for the vampires inconvenient. Someone should do something abou- Actually, no, that joke doesn’t work. Certain officials come and go in the capital even faster nowadays.

The city was a potential battleground between the cults. The Camarilla held it, but Sabbat forces surrounded it. Sooner or later, warfare between the two groups was bound to explode.

McCann had carefully avoided the city. He disliked being too visible anyplace where the balance of power was in flux. He worked best when in the shadows. However, this assassination attempt hinted that perhaps he had made a mistake by ignoring the metropolis.

After much time spent thinking and thinking, the detective’s all thunk out and decides to go to bed. He mentally checks his magic defenses on the way to his bedroom. And one other thing.

With a wan smile, he rested one hand on a small, detailed sculpture resting on the end table in his bedroom. Carved from sandstone, it depicted a man’s face remarkably similar to his own. Not particularly large or impressive, the statue originally came from Egypt and was over four thousand years old. It had been with McCann for a very long time.

Did you get that Dire McCann is super old? Need it hammered in a little more? You dumb bastards?

If you got rid of that last sentence, this could be a nice little moment for McCann’s character. Him looking at the statue, briefly allowing himself to feel nostalgia for an age and people gone by. A moment where he drops the master schemer act and let’s the old man out. A little heartwarming. A little sad. But the last sentence turns it into another reminder of something we already know.

Eh, maybe I’m being too nitpicky. Looking too hard for flaws.

The detective grinned, remembering Flavia’s tale of Masqueraders. It was an entertaining fable. He wondered how she would react to the truth. Maybe, someday, he would tell her.

No, fuck it, this one I have something to say about.

Back when Flavia was explaining her “tale of Masqueraders,” this was how McCann reacted:

McCann laughed, trying to appear amused. “What utter nonsense.”

and

McCann forced himself to remain quiet. He had said too much already.

And when he’s back in his office, reflecting on his conversation with Flavia:

McCann, sitting behind his desk in his office an hour later, sighed heavily. The detective folded his arms across his chest. For all her grief, the Dark Angel had not stayed in mourning very long. He trusted Flavia not to reveal her suspicions to the Prince for as long as it suited her purposes, and not a second more. If not handled properly, the Dark Angel could prove to be as dangerous to him as the Red Death

Those aren’t the actions and thoughts of a guy who a few hours later would be thinking “Silly bitch, what an amusing fable. Maybe one day I’ll tell her what I really am.” That��s someone whose intimidated by what she knows, and wary of what she’ll tell her fifth-generation vampire boss.

Flavia said that Masqueraders are Methuselahs who possess mortal bodies while in torpor in order to experience life like a mortal again, while giving them some Kindred powers to protect them. McCann is secretly a Methuselah named Lameth, over four thousand years old and notable enough to earn a title like “The Dark Messiah.” We’re also told that his current body is mortal, aside from a few Kindred powers. A detail we’ll learn in a few chapters may complicate things, but for now the similarities are spot on, and back in Chapter Five McCann knew that.

Flavia may be the very definition of what feminist media critics call a Strong Female Character (i.e. a character whose presented as a well-written woman because she’s physically strong and capable of *gasp* holding her own against a man, but in the overall narrative is a satellite character revolving around a male character, often used as fanservice, a love interest, or a prize to be won despite her “strength”) and maybe it’s a leap of logic to get “secret ancient vampire” from a human who can stop one of her attacks, but she more or less figured McCann out, and he knows it. The detective shouldn’t get all haughty or dismissive now because she might not know every detail. Or because she doesn’t know he’s actually ~*~Lameth, the Dark Messiah of the Kindred~*~ and not Sven, the Socially Awkward Apostle of the Kindred. She got your number, dick.

Anyway, the smug bastard goes to sleep and the chapter ends.

[abitoflit]

Science Within the Time Machine

Science, “the intellectual and practical activity encompassing the systematic study of the structure and behavior of the physical and natural world through observation and experiment,” (Oxford Dictionary). In his 1895 novel entitled, The Time Machine, H.G. Wells employs the use of several different scientific disciplines in order to propel the plot of his story, accentuate his character’s feelings, provide a warning to his readers, and lend his story a greater amount of drama. First, Wells’ protagonist—the Time Traveler—manipulates the laws of physics in order to devise a time machine, which can accelerate so rapidly as to propel him through both time and space and into the future. Thus, allowing for the plot to unfold. Secondly, as the Time Traveler explores the year 802,701 AD and makes note of the world around him, he looks to the skies for information. By making some brief references to rudimentary knowledge within the field of astronomy, the Time Traveler is taught when to be afraid and when to feel safe based on how much light remains in the sky. Furthermore, astronomy is used as a method of separation, which accentuates the Time Traveler’s feelings of being both lost and alone in a distant world. Finally, Wells alludes frequently to the field of biology and to evolution. His references become the most evident whenever the Time Traveler devises theories as to how the world became what it was in the distant future. Theories, which explain how man’s descendants—the Morlocks and the Eloi—developed into two distinct races, which created conflict not only within the Time Traveler’s heart; but, within the foreign land to which he traveled.

           In his construction of the time machine, the Time Traveler employs a combination of engineering for its overall design and physics, to bestow it with the capacity to travel through both space and time. H.G. Wells needed to manipulate physics in his novel in order to provide his story with a vehicle by which it could commence. Therefore, he had the Time Traveler produce a model of his invention, which he presented to his peers in a demonstration that proved he was capable of time travel. Wells had the Time Traveler accomplish this feat by placing the tiny model upon a table in front of the fire, (so that all of his witnesses could see it clearly), before he explained that “this lever, being pressed over, sends the machine gliding into the future, and this other reverses the motion,” (Wells 10). After the Time Traveler had given each of his witnesses ample time to study the model so that they could be certain there was “no trickery,” (Wells 10), the Psychologist sent the model away and each witness “saw the lever turn… and the little machine suddenly swung round, became indistinct… and… was gone,” (Wells 10-11). When the Time Traveler constructed a larger version of the model he used in his demonstration, it operated by the same principles; but, on a much grander scale. Thus, after he had pressed the lever, which commenced his machine’s movement, the Time Traveler found that he was “slipping like a vapour through interstices of intervening substances!” (Wells 20). Eventually, he landed in the distant future amongst the Eloi, which allowed for the continual unraveling of the novel’s plot, because without the time machine, the Time Traveler would have remained home and Wells wouldn’t have a story.

           After the Time Traveler arrives in the year 802,701 AD, he soon comes to realize that the world has changed. At first, he believes that he is alone with a single descendant of man—the Eloi; but, after having lived amongst the peaceful “Upper-world” folk for some time, he realizes that they are not alone and are being hunted by the carnivorous Morlocks. Since the Morlocks are a nocturnal band of hunters, the Time Traveler begins to use a rather rudimentary examination of the night sky and his basic knowledge of astronomy to determine his level of safety. At night, he knows to be afraid of the Morlocks, who come out to seize their prey. Thus, the night adds tension to a novel, which would otherwise be pretty boring and without conflict. The Time Traveler also seeks the stars for comfort when he and Weena were caught out in the dark. “Through that long night I held my mind off the Morlocks as well as I could, and whiled away the time by trying to fancy I could find signs of the old constellations in the new confusion,” (Wells 55). Although the sight of the sparkling celestial bodies comforts the Time Traveler, his inability to recognize the constellations they form accentuates his sense of loneliness. I feel as though this is the case because the Time Traveler is trapped in a world with two separate races who are nothing like himself, in a land which looks nothing like where he lives, where he has no one to talk to, and is being kept from those like him by a span of more than several hundred thousand years. In a way, the sight of the stars and the use of astronomy deepen the novel’s conflict because they remind the Time Traveler of the extent of his self-inflicted isolation. The discomfort aroused by his reflection makes him feel as though he is within “the most hopeless trap that ever a man devised,” (Wells 36). I believe it is the emotions, which the sight of the sky evokes, which in part, propel him to search more fervently for his time machine, which the Morlocks stole shortly after his arrival. I think that in many ways, it proved necessary for him to strengthen his search, simply so he could avoid the welling sense of loneliness that had arisen within his heart.      

           Throughout the course of his novel, Wells relied most heavily on the field of biology, which encompasses the study of evolution. It proved necessary for Wells to refer frequently to evolution so that readers could understand the Time Traveler’s theories pertaining to both the Eloi and the Morlocks. Furthermore, his discussions on how each of the two races changed over time in order to adapt to their surroundings and more successfully combat the obstacles presented by their environment created another level of conflict, which was used to entice his readers. The Eloi were said to have hair, which “came to a sharp end at the neck and cheek; there was not the faintest suggestion of it on the face,” (Wells 23). The lack of hair upon the Eloi’s bodies was most likely a response to the hot weather that existed upon the Earth’s surface in the distant future. Being that the Eloi would need to keep cool in order to remain comfortable and keep from developing illnesses, (such as heat stroke), profound hair growth began to die out as man progressed. The Time Traveler also noticed that the Eloi were “strict vegetarians,” (Wells 26). Being that the distant future had an excess of fruits and other forms of vegetation, it would appear as though an omnivorous diet could no longer be supported, so those tendencies died out.

           The Morlocks, in sharp contrast to their fairer surface-dwelling counterparts, were described as “ape-like,” (Wells 41). Furthermore, they were said to be “subterranean” creatures, who bore “the bleached look common to most animals that live largely in the dark,” and had “large eyes, with the capacity for reflecting light,” (Wells 43-44). They were creatures, which demonstrated “evident confusion in the sunshine,” and “hasty yet fumbling awkward flight towards dark shadow,” (Wells 44). The Morlock’s development proved useful to them from an evolutionary standpoint for a few separate reasons. First, their fur coats would provide them with an extra layer of insulation, which would help them keep warm in the cool underground and aboveground, when they went out to hunt during the cover of night. Second, their eyesight would help them see within the darkness of the underground, which would prove beneficial because it would keep them from bumping into one another, etc. Their inability to tolerate light; however, serves as a way of balancing a race, which seems to greatly overpower the fairer Eloi. In other words, the Morlock’s extreme sensitivity to light was Wells’ way of providing the Time Traveler with a way to combat the carnivorous, antagonistic band of Morlocks who sought to eat him and the Eloi. Their weakness also added tension to the novel because it ensured that both the Time Traveler and his hosts were kept in constant fear of what could happen to them if they failed to be ever vigilant. Finally, the Morlock’s sensitivity to light ensured that they would have no competition for food with the Eloi.

           In addition to the genetic shifts the two racial descendants of mankind underwent prior to the Time Traveler’s arrival, the Eloi and the Morlocks were forced to alter their diets based on the food that was available to them. The Eloi became herbivorous creatures, while the Morlocks were made into carnivorous ones. Meanwhile, a symbiotic relationship developed between the two races, which the Time Traveler thought had arisen based on their joint history with one another. The Time Traveler surmised that the Eloi were once the aristocracy, while the Morlocks had once made up the working class. He said that, “the Eloi… had decayed to a mere beautiful futility,” and still dwelled upon the surface of the earth because “the Morlocks… had come… to find the daylit surface intolerable,” (Wells 52). Since the Eloi possessed only “the intellectual level of one of our five-year old children,” (Wells 24), and were lazy, “the Morlocks made their garments… and maintained them in their habitual needs, perhaps through survival of an old habit of service. They did it… because ancient and departed necessities had impressed it on the organism,” (Wells 52). In return for their labors, the Morlocks fed upon the Eloi out of necessity, since they had run out of all other food sources some time beforehand. Therefore, the Eloi had been “reacquainted with fear,” (Wells 52), and reduced to “fatted cattle,” (Wells 56), which served as a deepening of the tension between the two races.

           At the same time, the deterioration of man into two very distinct races served as a warning from Wells to his readers. The fall of the Eloi from their place of power as society’s aristocracy demonstrated that not only can evolution have negative effects on society; but, that society’s members should never grow lazy or complacent. This is due to the fact that evolution surrounds change. Sometimes, that change is for the better; but, at other times, it is not. Being that the Eloi neglected to use their mental capabilities to the fullest extent, their mental capacity deteriorated after an extended period of time to the point where they possessed merely “the intellectual level of one of our five-year old children,” (Wells 24). Their laziness proved the truth of the phrase, “use it or lose it.” Therefore, The Time Machine serves as a reminder to its readers never to depend too much on others to do things for you because, eventually, you and your descendants will become incapable of such things.

           In conclusion, H.G. Wells’ novel entitled The Time Machine references three different scientific disciplines—physics, astronomy, and biology. Wells employs each for a different purpose, which allowed him to add depth to his story by degrees. In the beginning of the novel, Wells had the Time Traveler craft a machine, which could propel him through both time and space. By manipulating physics, the Time Traveler accomplished an astounding feat, which allowed for the continuation of the plot and the existence of the entire novel. By having the Time Traveler refer to astronomy and observe both the sky and stars above him, Wells managed to highlight the man’s sense of fear and accentuate his sense of loneliness, which played a part in propelling him to strengthen his search for his lost time machine. Finally, Wells alludes heavily to both biology and evolution and the many changes, which take place over time as a species adapts to its surroundings. By having the Time Traveler devise theories pertaining to how both the Eloi and the Morlocks came to be, Wells not only created conflict to entertain his readers; he also added a degree of depth to his novel, which would not have been present otherwise. Furthermore, in his novel, he issued a warning to his readers, which reminded them to never grow too dependent upon the services rendered onto them by others.

Works Cited

“Science.” Oxford Dictionary, 2017. Web. 11 Jan. 2017.

Wells, H.G. The Time Machine. Metairie: Megalodon Entertainment, 2010. Print.

[govaastunaresh-blog]

Introduction of Vaastu

WHAT DOES VAASTU SHASTRA MEAN?

Vaastu Shastra, an ancient Indian science developed thousands of years ago by ancient Indian saints and rishis, puts forward rules for the construction of buildings and temples and has been practiced for centuries.

Vaastu Shastra, an integral part of Indian architecture, having its its roots extended in Indian Philosophy, maths, geology, geography, religion and takes into account, factors influencing a Site, such as topography, roads, structures around, Sun’s effects, Earth’s magnetic field, cardinal directions, Earth’s energy fields and elements of Nature. Vaastu literally means “HOUSE” or dwelling place of human beings and consists of the following:

  Bhoomi – means the plot or extent of land where the building is proposed.

Prasada – includes the compound wall and buildings which are built within the Bhoomi (Site).

Yaana – means all the (chariots) vehicles parked within the Bhoomi (Site).

Shayana – includes all the furniture and utensils in the building (Prasada).

WHAT IS VAASTU SHASTRA?

Vaastu Shastra is an ancient Indian Vedic Science of Architecture that puts down guidelines on the construction of buildings such that they are in harmony with the environment or nature. The harmony management is achieved by managing the flow of cosmic energy through and around the buildings, which in turn promotes the well-being, peace and prosperity of the inhabitants.

As per Vaastu, when buildings are in tune with the underlying cosmic principles, they become a part of the basic structure of the universe and vibrate in harmony with it. These positive vibrations are believed to have a positive effect on t by he inhabitants.

It is common sense that a properly designed house is the one which has aesthetic, hygiene, comfort, and space to move around and thereby giving pleasure of living. In such a house the inhabitants will be happy and contented, whereas, a poorly designed house will not be comfortable to live in and hence create uneasiness in the minds of the inhabitants.

Vaastu Shastra takes advantage of and manipulates the natural resources like sun, wind, air etc. and the topography of the site, the surrounding pathways, trees & plants, water sources, other structures etc. to harness the positive energy and prevent imbalance in the building and thus bring about harmony between man, nature and his built environment.

DO VAASTU SHASTRA AND FENG SHUI HAVE SIMILARITY?

Though Vaastu Shastra is conceptually similar to Chinese ‘Feng Shui’, as in both the methods an effort is made to harmonize the flow of energy (called ‘Prana’ in Sanskrit and ‘Chi’ in Chinese) through the house. The major difference is that, Vaastu gives the exact directions in which various objects, rooms, materials etc are to be placed. Vaastu considers the various principles for Architecture, Sculpture, Mathematics, Geometry, Geology (Geopathic Stress), Geography, Religion and Philosophy. It lays down principles on all aspects of Construction such as : Site selection, orientation and location of the building on the site, space around the building, orientation and location of rooms and other element of a building, direction of the  doors, location of water sources,   trees to be planted, colour scheme and even the suitable date and time for Foundation Laying Ceremony and the House Warming Ceremony.

IS VASTU SHASTRA A SCIENCE OR SUPERSTITION?

The name Vaastu Shastra itself suggests that it is a ‘Shastra’. Shastra means a rational Science based on observations and facts. It takes into account the laws of nature which are governed by a set of principles. Vaastu Shastra was formulated nearly 5000 years ago and with time and generations it has evolved. Being based on practical fact it has survived the test of time indicates that it is a Science and not a Superstition.

Vaastu Shastra was formulated by our Rishis as they has the wisdom to understand the thinking of people. If they did not enforced the principles of planning very strictly, people would build according to their understanding. Since people have differing tastes and ideas on aesthetics they would create ugly and unaesthetic structures. Perhaps to prevent such a situation, the principles of Vaastu Shastra were made as strict rules. It was said that if one followed the Vaastu principles strictly, one would live a happy, content and prosperous life. And if they were not followed, the inhabitants would be sick, unhappy, quarrel with each other and even die at early age. As a result, this ‘Science’ became a ‘Superstition’. Even today many people follow the basic Vaastu principles while designing their new house or reconstructing one, as they fear that there could be adverse effects if not followed. There are people who exploit the common man’s fears and superstitions and charge exorbitant fees by exploiting the ignorance and beliefs of the people. Such practitioners of Vaastu blindly following the standard thumb rules of Vaastu Shastra, without realising that the changed socio-economic conditions without considering the fact that each site is unique by virtue of the surrounding structures, trees, water sources, orientation, topography etc., and hence should be planned accordingly.

To really help people achieve positive energy in their buildings, one has to have in depth knowledge of Vaastu and understand the logic and reasoning behind each and every principle.

ORIGIN OF VAASTU SHASTRA

Vaastu Shastra was formulated by our ancestors nearly 5000 years ago, as a vedic science for layout and planning of buildings. This science has evolved over the centuries to improve standard of living of every human life on the earth. Vaastu Shastra is a Vedanga, a branch of Sthapatya Veda, which in turn is a part of Yajur Veda. The body of Vaastu knowledge is monumental with lakhs of shlokas, which were handed down to succeeding generations by word of mouth and through hand written monographs such as:

Manasara Silpa Shastra (by Manasara),

Mayamatam (by the Mayasuras),

Viswakarma Vaastushastra (by Viswakarma),

Samarangana Sutradhara (by Raja Bhoja),

Aparajita Paricchay (a dialogue between Viswakarma and his son Aparajita, written by Bhuvanadevacharya) Silparatna.

Other treatises such as Agni Purana and works by Kautilya and Sukracharya are not popular even though they preceded the above mentioned documents.

THE FIVE ELEMENTS AND PANCAHMAHABHUTAS

WHAT ARE THE FIVE ELEMENTS OR THE PANCHAMAHABHUTAS?

Basic principle of Vaastu is based on the assumption that the earth is a living organism, out of which other living creatures and organic forms emerge. Out of the nine planets in the Solar System, only Earth has life because of the presence of the five elements or Panchamahabhutas namely Aakash (Space), Vaayu (Air), Agni (Fire), Jala (Water) and Bhoomi (Earth).

Space (Aakash)

The unending region, beyond Earth in which not only our Solar System, but the entire Galaxy exists. The most effective forces are light, heat, gravity, magnetic field and waves. It provides shelter to the other four elements.

Air (Vaayu)

The atmosphere above the Earth consists of Oxygen, Nitrogen, Carbon Dioxide, Water in the form of Vapour, Dust particles etc which are all essential for living things. Human physical comfort values are directly dependent on correct humidity, proper air flow, and suitable temperature of air, air pressure and composition of air.

Fire (Agni)

It represents light and heat and is essential element for existence of life. It also represents days and nights, seasons, energy, lightning, heat in volcano and the Sun and the solar system energy. The enthusiasm, passion, vigour in every living thing is because of light and heat only.

Water (Jala)

This is represented by rain water, river water, and seawater. It is in the form of liquid, solid (the ice) and gas (the steam, the clouds). It is a combination of Hydrogen and Oxygen and is perfectly neutral. Every plant and animal is composed of water in different proportions.

Earth (Bhumi)

Earth, the third planet in order from the Sun, is a big magnet with North and South poles as centers of attractions. Its magnetic field and gravitational force has considerable effect on everything on the Earth. Its rotation about its axis and revolution around the sun brings about day and night and seasonal changes.

HOW DO THE FIVE ELEMENTS AFFECT US?

It is fact that, all these five elements are necessary to sustain life on this planet. There is an invisible and constant interaction between these elements. In an open field these elements operate freely and are in equilibrium. However, when a structure is placed in this field, the equilibrium is affected because these forces act for or against each other to create either harmony or disharmony. If there is disharmony, then it needs to be restored in such a manner that the energy flows harmoniously, making our lives well-balanced.

Vaastu can help us to understand the effectiveness of the five elements and use them to our advantage. Vaastu can guide us in creating a balanced and harmonious environment to live in.