#just realized he probably stopped his education after being banished

[dyingrubberchicken]

whoever says dallas liu isnt the best zuko to ever possibly zuko needs to rewatch the original atla series ASAP.

YES he's whiney YES he has the survival instincts of a drowned fish YES he is an angsty teen.

BUT THAT'S WHO ZUKO IS.

my guy lost to aang, angrily doodled him, smacked him on a wall, and burst into flames. he is the embodiment of >:(

LOOK AT HIM. and im talking season 1 zuko here. that man is the DEFINITION of angsty teenager. he is a soggy wet cat. he is hopelessly incapable of social interaction and we love him for it. look at that dumb dumb man and tell me dallas liu does not perfectly encapsulate what an absolute idiot (/aff) season 1 zuko is.

thank you for coming to my ted talk.

[velvet-apricots]

A friend went “Fyra lore when” and I realized aside from my fanfics I have not really given a lot of info about my Tarnished! So here we go.

Fyra is like Roderika and Fia, in that she comes from outside the lands between, from a group of Tarnished who broke off from Godfrey when he was banished and settled and made their own way in life, going from warriors to farmers, blacksmiths, and carpenters. They all live in villages scattered in a fertile valley, and have a governor that lives in a wooden fort. They are not a strong or super wealthy  people but the warrior blood still runs in them and they can defend themselves decently enough.

Fyra is a farm girl on a big farm her father owns and works on, she has a country accent, and a strong body. She spent her time feeding the chickens, milking cows, and fighting off minor nuisances to keep said chickens and cows safe. As such, she can hold a sword and has a bit of combat skill. She has no formal education, but can read/write and do basic math. She can’t solve ten times ten or tell you what precarious means, but she knows that when you have six eggs from one chicken, and four from another, you have ten eggs

She used to talk a lot. She was a chatterbox and a flirt and likes boys (and girls sometimes). Her father gave up trying to stop her from having fun with them and just gives a basic “don't let 'em put it in you till you're married’ warning to her. 

She is very girly and likes dresses.

She was unmarried and in her 20s when she left. She has sutors though… Well she had suitors.

Fyra has a grandmother, who likes to tell stories to her about the lands between, however her grandmother tells stories of before the shattering, so when Fyra does get to the lands between by hitching a ride on a boat with other Tarnished who are trying to make the journey, the lands are not much like what she envisioned in her head.

There are no undead where fyra is, but there are dragons. A big old dragon lives in the mountains around the valley, and there are other creatures one could consider ‘fantasy’ like (oversized spiders, giant rats, goblins, giant bats, ect). Whether the dragon comes from the lands between or somewhere else is not really known, as it leaves them alone, and the people in turn leave it alone.

Fyra’s mother and grandfather both passed away. IDk why either died, but for her grandpa, probably old age.

Fyra at first ignored the call of the lost grace, but oer time the fires of ambition burned hotter and hotter in her, until all she wanted was to fulfill the prophecy of being elden lord, even if it seemed impossible, given she had no real skill aside from the bare minimum. It was the fire that drove her onward.

Fyra hitched a ride to the lands between on the same boat Godfrey did.

Her talkative nature was killed pretty soon after coming to the lands between. She spoke to much to a certain white masked man, and he got so annoyed with her, his facade cracked and he murdered her by cutting out her tongue. He tried to be nice after she revived and helped her as he does in game, but you really can’t go back from that, can you? After that, she stopped talking a lot, fearing someone else would do the same, and in time, that fear morphed into a fear of just talking to people in general, because everyone she spoke to suffered in some way. By the time she slays the elden beast, she is totally mute.

In her time of trauma, Gideon shows her kindness, as such she latched onto him and grew to love him deeply, even if he was heavily flawed.

Rogier was her best and first friend in the lands between. His passing hurt her deeply. 

She was also close to Fia, and while she liked D, he eventually stopped talking to her as she too pitied the undead. When Fia killed D, Fyra was horrified and felt like it was her fault as she gave him the dagger. 

Fyra is also close friends with Nepheli, despite the awkwardness that comes with… well fucking her dad. Nepheli considers Fyra her family, with fyra feeling the same. When Gideon abandons her, Fyra tries to mend their relationship and give Nepheli comfort. In the end, Nepheli becomes Lord of Stormveil, and while she has civil conversations with Gideon and considers him her father still, there is no fixing what was never broken in the first place.

Boc means everything to her. She loves him and encourages him in everything he does. Indeed, he becomes a royal seamster to her, making her all of her dresses once she becomes Elden Lord. And though maybe not perfect, she loves every single one of them. As one of her few remaining friends, she is protective of him, and won't let anyone talk down to him.

Fyra of course is close to Hewg and Roderika as well, as both of them temper her weapons and ashes respectively. Fyra is so grateful they both get out of Roundtable Hold when it is burning with the Erdtree

Fyra’s favored ashes are the lone wolves Ranni gifted her, Banished Night Oleg, and the Crystalian.

Fyra is terrified of Seluvis. Like, legitimately she is so creeped out by him. Once she learned what he did, she left Ranni’s rise and never returned, leaving a lot of work unfinished. She feels terrible for it, but that man… That man freaked her out.

On the other hand, she very much likes Iji, Blaidd, and Ranni. She calls Ranni “Miss Ranni”, which Ranni finds endearing.

Fyra also does not like Dung Eater. When Boggart warned her of him, and she found out he had a physical location, she went out and flat out murdered him in his prison cell. She had no regrets doing that.

She’s so nice to him, Patches can’t really bring himself to shove her off that cliff. Other then that he doesnt think a whole lot of her, given she’s as gullible as a three yearold when they first meet.

She. Adores. Alexander. Like, he was one of her most favorite people to run into cause he was so jolly and clumsy.

She liked Dialos a lot, and helped him when she could. She probably would flirted with him, had they met under different cercumstances.

[rizumary]

Like A Soda Pop (part.2)

This was the highest peak of Hajime Iwaizumi’s delicate springtime of life—according to Tooru, who definitely didn’t have any say in Hajime’s love life. At all. (Or, the one where Iwaizumi got overwhelmed by a kouhai’s not-entirely-unwelcomed romantic advances and Oikawa did have any say in his love life, after all.) [Iwaizumi/OC; confession fic]

Writer: nutteu | AO3 version [part 1] ー [part 2]

There were days that felt like Akeno; soft, airy cotton candy days filled with wondering eyes and quick-silver heartbeats. Where his hands trembled with the confusion of wanting to hold Akeno’s hand or to punch the wall because he was too overwhelmed by her.

But, there were also days when Hajime felt like he ached so deep within his marrow. The cramp from their latest bout of harsh practices, the looming threat of competitions, the painful anxiety of losing, of not being able to play a little bit longer—just a little bit more—

For people like Tobio, like Ushijima, even Tooru, the ache must have been filled to the brim with growth and potentials. But for Hajime, it felt like bone deep weariness and fear. That it wasn’t enough, that he didn’t try hard enough, that eventually, he wouldn’t be able to catch up no matter how hard he worked for it. He was neither the gifted nor the talented. All he had was his love for volleyballs, and the stubborn, unmoving desire of reaching the pinnacle of championships with his team.

On those days, he smiled less, hit the balls harder than ever, took every cramp and ache in his muscles. He came early, went home the last. On those days, there was nothing he would like to do but scream, and practice until his legs give out; nothing but staying away from everyone and curl up and cry. The juxtaposing needs made him tired, so tired.

Tooru knew, of course he knew. On those days, he gave as good as he could; teased less, and pacified the other members when they were worried about Hajime’s unusual walls he erected around him. They all got used to it, in the end, letting him vent out his frustrations instead of coddling him. Joked around and acted like he didn’t run himself to the ground just the day before. They didn’t ask, because there were certain things that couldn’t be shared unless they were awake in the middle of the night, or too tired to pay attention properly after a rigorous training camp.

Akeno Hana brought a change to that—abruptly, with her brand of awkwardness and earnest intention.

When everyone else had left, she waited in the gym for him, sitting on the polished floor with a terrifying focus on her delicate face. Hajime almost jumped in surprise when he realized that he wasn’t alone. The irritation was fast to catch up to him. Tooru really needed something to gag his stupidly big mouth. A fist, preferably.

As if reading the hard lines on his face, Hana shook her head and talked first to soother his fraying nerves. “No one told me, they wouldn’t. No one sells you out, Iwaizumi-senpai. Although, they’re as worried as I am. I just—“ she hesitated, and Hajime let out a long sigh. It wouldn’t do anything to snap at her just because she was on the wrong place, at the wrong time.

He reached for his bottle of water and towel, and sat next to her. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I wasn’t mad at you. Things are just… difficult for me sometimes,” he said. He didn’t know why he bothered explaining this to her. He never did, not even to Tooru; not even to his mom, though she probably understood anyway. Maybe it was the way Hana just showed to him that she perceived and paid attention more than anyone thought, maybe it was the patience he saw in her eyes, maybe it was because—

Oh, God, he thought, heaving a deep sigh that suspiciously wavered at the end. He was tired, he was so tired. Worrying about his passion, the continuation of his education, his career path—it all built up inside his chest, and in days like these, he couldn’t rationalize it, couldn’t clear his head enough to control his mind and emotions.

Hana nodded, and took the box of something that he assumed was a bento. She unwrapped the cloth covering, and he noticed, out of his will, that her hands was delicate, pretty. Acutely in contrast with his calloused, blistered hands. He wanted to try holding her hands, he thought, and shook his head to banish the thought away. Hana didn’t seem to notice, thankfully.

“I, uh, I made this,” she started, sounding shy and proud. “I remembered that you mentioned you like these, and—and you made me chicken karaage too when I was sad. I wanted to help you too, senpai. But I don’t know if I can do something that actually counts, so I thought—maybe at least I can cheer you up with these?”

Hajime looked over, and was stunned to silence. On the red bento box, alongside the regular assortments, were agedashi tofu that glazed so beautifully Hajime was reminded of his hunger. But above the dish, and the fact that he hadn’t eaten since lunch, the fact that she remembered, that she cared enough to try to cheer him up with this—Hajime swallowed, his throat felt dry all of the sudden. He forgot how to speak, for a moment.

“I—“ he croaked out, and was startled to realize that his eyes were watering. She must have been puzzled as to why he looked like he was about to cry right now, because she suddenly rambled in frantic manner, gesticulating with her hands as her small face scrunched up in worry and panic.

“Of course you don’t have to eat these if you don’t want to, senpai!” she hurried to explain. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to intrude or to patronize! I swear, I just—“ she bit her lip, and looked at him with pale, pleading eyes. “I just wanted to help. Please, let me help, Iwaizumi-senpai.”

He managed a small smile, and took the bento from her hands; felt an electric current ran through his fingers when they brushed against hers. “No, this is more than enough, Akeno. Really,” he said, when Hana still looked unconvinced, “you’ve helped a lot by just being here.”

And that might be too honest, contained more implications than what Hajime would be willing to admit right now, but he couldn’t bring himself to take it back or play it off as something mundane when Hana flashed him the most brilliant smile, happiness etched into the creases around her eyes. He smiled back, stronger, more sincere this time. They were silent after that, but it didn’t feel stifling. Just a comfortable silence to fill in the scant inches of distance between them.

On days like these, Hajime usually wore himself out until he couldn’t think, couldn’t stay awake long enough to let the fear consumed him. But this, he thought as he looked over to Hana’s still smiling face, it felt nice, too.

Hana confessed, out of the blue. Or not so much out of the blue for literally everyone.

It seemed like, Akeno still had one last surprise for him. The biggest, most unexpected surprise that actually felt like a massive, enormous bang in Hajime’s heart: a confession.

(Or maybe, just maybe, Hajime was too busy being conflicted with himself, too busy being enamored by Akeno Hana’s soft, sunny, enveloping charm, to notice that once again, Tooru was right. Hajime really was too dense about romance.)

At first it was like any other day. Of course, it wasn’t any other day. In his defense, Hajime rarely ever got the chance to marvel and enjoy the full extent of Valentine’s Day. Mostly because Valentine had no business at all in the volleyball court. It didn’t matter whether the whole school was in tizzy from the hormone buzz, if coach said lapped until they collapsed, then they’d lapped until they collapsed—Valentine’s Day or not.

Which was probably why Hajime didn’t suspected anything when Akeno walked alongside him, wrapped in her winter uniform and a pink scarf. It suited her, he thought, glancing down at the top of her head. She seemed… nervous. Or maybe she was just cold. She insisted on coming with him to the club, and it was pretty early in the morning. Maybe he could offer her his jacket, too? Yeah, he could do that.

When he opened his mouth to offer, however, Akeno ran ahead of him, before stopping, and extending something on both hands. For a moment, the world stopped. Hajime lost the words forming on his lips as he stared, open-mouthed, at the small, blue box in her gloved hand. She was bowing, her hair falling into curtains and hid the majority of her face, her voice though was as clear as the sun after a rainy day.

“I like you, Iwaizumi-senpai!”

For a heart-stopping second, there was nothing but the faint sound of the students in the distance; the echo of Akeno’s confession ringing in his mind; his accelerating heartbeat beating drums in his ears. He stood there, stock still, too shocked to wrap his head around the situation. Did Akeno… just say that she liked him? Like, the girl who had been charming him left and right and leaving him feeling warm and fuzzy, was actually here, offering him a box of chocolate, and confessing to him? What?

Unfortunately, his mouth only caught up with the last part. “Uh,” he croaked out, hesitant, bewildered, overwhelmed. “What?”

Akeno looked up then, and Hajime suddenly had the epiphany that her reddened face since they met this morning wasn’t just from cold. But because she was holding this in. She looked—afraid, but determined.

“I fell in love with you since the first time we met, senpai,” she said, her voice wavering for a little bit, before strengthening. “I have heard things about you from Kyoutani, but the first time we met, I was immediately taken by your charm. You were so kind even when I was embarrassing myself, you were patient with me, you helped me a lot, you paid attention to me, and you—“ she stopped to take in a breath, and powered through, as though if she didn’t get this out right here, right now, she wouldn’t be able to let out everything in her chest. Her eyes were bright with affection and determination and shyness, but her next words carried on without a hitch.

“You made me feel welcomed. You made me feel accepted and protected, cared for and cherished. I’m so happy when you asked me about things I like, when you mean it, when you hold me as I tripped, when we played together in the arcade. Every day we ate our lunch together, I felt the happiest because I could sit by your side and get to know you more. I’m thankful, that you let me know you in return, and that you trust me enough to open up to me.” There was a small smile playing on the curve of her lips, almost shy, full of happiness as she recalled her memories of them together. “I—I know that there are other girls who you like better than me, but senpai, I, too, wanted to shine in your eyes because in mine, you are the only one I’ve ever had the eyes for.”

Their breaths puffed out in small rush of fog, eyes wide as they stared at each other. Hajime, every so slowly, took the box of chocolate from her hands, and stared at it in amazement. Akeno’s previous words played in continuous repeat inside his head. He was—surprised, extremely so. But his chest felt so warm, despite the weather. It was just that he didn’t know what to say, didn’t trust himself enough to talk properly.

Akeno must have translated his silence into objection, because she seemed even more flustered than before, and her words started to jumble together. “And! I just thought—I thought, I wanted senpai to know about my feelings. Because they feel like they’re about to burst from my chest. Like—like a soda pop! I just wanted you to know, that I like you, senpai! And that you are very precious to me, and I’m thankful for all your helps as well, and that you’re the most amazing person I’ve ever met. So—so um—oh my god, what am I doing—“ she squeaked at herself, and looked up at Hajime with pleading eyes. “so—I just want to say—I like you so much, Iwaizumi-senpai.”

When Hajime still didn’t move, or say anything, Akeno visible gulped, and grinned stiffly. “Um, anyway. That’s all I wanted to say.” She laughed, awkward and very much still high on nervous energy. “Have a nice valentine!”

As she left him, he could faintly hear her murmur, “a nice valentine? Does that even make sense? Stupid Hana!” as she hit her head with her hand. Hajime took a long ass minute standing there, looking at her retreating back, and back to the box that he was pretty sure contained chocolates on his hand.

Everything was happening too fast for him to comprehend, and it almost felt like a dream. But it wasn’t. It didn’t feel so. Because the weight of the box was real, and Akeno’s swaying hair was still in his sight as she left, and the warmth that slowly spread inside him despite the coldness on his face was very much real. This wasn’t a dream. Akeno had actually confessed to him. As in, she liked him.

“Oh my Gods,” he whispered out brokenly after long minutes just staring at the spot where Akeno disappeared. “Oh my Gods she likes me too. Holy shit.”

The revelation, the sudden intensity of happiness, the giddiness that made him lost his breath. Hajime laughed, in disbelief and slightly hysteric because—he just couldn’t believe it. She liked him, as in liked him. . A romantic type of like, the one with fast heartbeats and the unbearable urge to hold their hands, or spend time with them, or smiling when they talked excitedly about their passion. The type of like that now had become one of the spotlights in his delicate springtime of life.

And then, he realized that for the entirety of the confession, he just stood there looking like a dead fish. “Oh my Gods,” he groaned, frustrated and panicked. He hoped Akeno didn’t make the wrong assumption. But then again, she might have. He didn’t even deign her with any answer whatsoever. Which, was fair. She didn’t ask him out or anything back there. So… so it was fine right? Right, it was fine that he didn’t answer because there was never a question to begin with. She just confessed her feelings, and then—and then Hajime could talk to her about his feelings too, and maybe then, he could ask her out. Yeah, sure, he could do that. He just needed to calm down first, and tried to wipe the giddy grin on his face.

(He didn’t meet Akeno for the rest of the day, but Tooru had seen the box of chocolate in his bag, and was so insufferably smug that Hajime had to punch him. He ate the chocolate at home. It was a tad bitter—she probably took the wrong type of chocolate—but it warmed his heart nonetheless.)

Akeno didn’t come to the club anymore after that. She avoided him in the hallways, didn’t come to their usual lunch time, didn’t reply to his messages, didn’t pick up his calls, even Kyoutani was at loss. Hajime was, to say the least, panicking. No, it wasn’t right, he was an absolute wreck.

He was worried about it to the point of considering just ambushing her after classes, but she would just squeak and run as she did these past few weeks. The other players had been asking about her, too. “Did you guys get into a fight?” they asked, or something like, “There’s finally a problem in the paradise, huh?” which would get a glare from Hajime, typically. He couldn’t exactly tell them that it wasn’t a fight; it was a confession, which was mutual, but they both were too dumb to deal with it properly.

It went on for about a month, before Hajime finally snapped, and turned to Tooru.

That motherfucker laughed. Of course he did. He spent his sweet ass time rolling on Hajime’s mattress, after eating Hajime’s cookies, laughing at Hajime’s misery. It hadn’t even been five minutes and Hajime had regretted this decision, very much so.

“So, in conclusion, she confessed to you, but was too nervous to ask you out and just hightailed it out of there?” Tooru asked, after calming down and wiping tears from his eyes.

“Yeah,” he replied curtly, frustrated and was five seconds away from throwing Tooru out of the window.

“And you were so shocked that you didn’t even say anything? And then you just stupidly thought she’d come around after that?”

He wanted to punch Tooru for that, but in the end, he just conceded with a defeated, “Yeah.”

Tooru exploded into another bout of obnoxious laughter. “Oh my Gods!” he wailed, “oh my Gods, Hajime, this is precious! I can’t believe it!” he dissolved into another giggle, as Hajime groaned and rubbed his face with both hands. He should have never asked Tooru, this just increased his blood pressure and made him consider murder.

Finally, though, Tooru took a pity on him, and said, “Iwa-chan, hana-chan is a simple girl, you know? She likes cute and cool things, she forgets anyone else is in the room when she talks to you, she cries eating your bentos, and she makes you handmade chocolate on valentine. You don’t need grand gestures, just give back what she gave to you—sincerity and clear affection.”

Hajime was stunned for a moment. He actually half-expected Tooru to joke about this and didn’t actually give a useful advice. But he was surprised yet again. He considered it for a moment, and Tooru left him to it after some more teasings.

Something simple, something she liked, and something he knew meant a lot to her. For the first time in weeks, Hajime might have a clue about what he should do. He just hoped that he was right, that it would be enough to win Akeno back.

It was almost six in the morning, and Hajime barely slept a wink last night. He stared at the ceiling in his room hard enough to make himself dizzy, as if he could drill a hole through it. After spending ungodly hours at the arcade yesterday, and quite possibly losing his pocket money for two weeks and several blood vessels from anger and frustration at the crane machine, he finally got the god forsaken thing that thought—wished—would help him and his ironically comedic, disastrous, wonderful crush on Akeno Hana.

He managed to sleep at ten, and then woke up at one am, thinking about ugly things that might transpire when he confessed. He tried to calm himself down, but the thoughts of what if she lost interest, what if she got heartbroken, what if she—kept him wide awake until 4 in the morning. Finally, the memories of spending time with her, the soft curve of her smile, the shine in her eyes when she talked about arts and her dream, the way she looked so sincere, so pretty on the day she confessed, calmed his nerves down. Enough to catch a little bit of sleep.

It didn’t last long, though. He was sleep deprived, was running on nervous energy, and his stomach felt like a knife had been twisted into it. When he finally couldn’t take it, he took his phone from the charging station, and, before he could lose the short burst of bravery, dialed Akeno’s numbers. He knew that girl had a habit of running late to school. This might the only time when she wouldn’t be aware enough to reject his call.

As he predicted, the call connected, and Akeno’s groggy voice greeted him from the other side. She sounded like a child abruptly woken up from a nap. It was cute, but Hajime wasn’t going to be distracted by cute things. Regardless if the said cute things came from the very person he liked. Whom he was going to confess to. Today. In just a moment. Oh Gods, he wanted to throw up.

Instead, he strengthened his resolve, and said, “Go get ready. I’ll be there in half an hour.”

Akeno sounded more awake then, cautious. “But… why, senpai?”

Why indeed. But Hajime couldn’t just back off now. He didn’t want to. A month filled with uncertainty about their relationship and the abrupt absence of Akeno in his life, was enough to fill his courage. He didn’t want to go through that again. “I really need to see you, Akeno.”

There was a soft hitch of breath, and then Akeno’s trembling voice. “Y-yeah—uh, I mean, yes, I’ll get ready. Um, take care on your way here, senpai.”

Akeno was already waiting on the front porch when he got there. She looked nervous, but there was a hesitant happiness that peeked through her pale eyes. Her mom waved at him from the door jam, and he bowed, nervous and awkward all at once. They parted with a knowing look from her, and walked to the nearest bus stop that Akeno usually took.

They walked side by side in silence, the both of them too nervous to break the tension between them. It was as if they were waiting on the edge, and Hajime felt like throwing up again. Even playing in tournaments didn’t feel nerve-wracking, even if both the tournaments and Akeno Hana were just as important to him.

Akeno was the first to break the silence, however, by tripping on the side of the road, over nothing. Hajime’s quick reflexes prevented her from falling over and scraped her knees on the pavement, and she shot him a grateful smile. “Thank you, senpai.”

And maybe it was the familiarity, of holding her like this when she was about to fall, of the words he hadn’t heard in a month, of the smile he hadn’t seen much these days, that he just blurted out, “you’re so clumsy. If you got any clumsier than this, you might trip and lose your head, you know?”

Akeno, affronted, choked on air and replied, “Hey!”

He chuckled, and straightened her up. He started walking again, and Akeno followed his lead. Still looking ahead, he started pouring his heart out, so his gut could finally stop twisting, and his heart could finally calm itself down, and he could breathe once the truth was out.

“You’re so clumsy, and you easily got lost if someone didn’t hold your hand. You’re such a crybaby, and sometimes you’re either embarrassed too easily, or entirely too shameless. You look adorable either way.” Next to him, Akeno let out the trademark squeak of protest.

“You have no sense of personal space, and yet I like it when you’re close. Your eyes look the prettiest when you talk about your art; I just realized that you give your whole attention to me when I talk—and I like that as well. You always wake up late, you got these crazy eyes whenever you’re playing crane games, you cook well but you suck at making confectionaries. You are such a mess of genuine feeling and wonder, and I like you too much to even think about a proper confession.”

Next to him, Akeno had stopped walking completely, and instead was staring at him with wide, wide eyes. So he turned, and smiled, and said, “I’m sorry it took me so long to figure this out,” he pulled out the item from his pocket, and keeping his fist close around it, he offered it in front of her. “Happy white valentine,” he said. “I got this for you, and you better like it because I didn’t just spend my time torturing myself in that cursed machine, and not getting a wink of sleep because I was too nervous.”

“Too nervous for what?” Akeno finally spoke after being shocked still for so long.

“To ask you out, of course,” he said, and it felt so easy, sliding off his lips in light cadence. It felt alarmingly natural on his tongue, like it waited his whole life to reach this delicate springtime of life to finally say it. “Instead of, you know, running away after the confession.”

At that, Akeno finally snapped out of the trance and pouted at him. Even pouting like that she still looked unfairly cute. Hajime was indeed going insane. Simp, he faintly heard Tooru’s voice whispered viciously in his head, complete with the shit-eating grin.

“Hey! It’s not nice to embarrass people like that!” she yelled, high pitched and patting her cheeks to alleviate some heat. They looked appropriately reddened. “I was nervous, okay. You know I do stupid things when I’m nervous, senpai,” she whined, and he chuckled low.

He stepped closer to her, and slowly, carefully, brought his hands to where Akeno’s were and wrapped them around bunny plushy he had tried so hard to get, her soft smiles in mind every time he failed to get it. Hana’s eyes widened, pale irises recognizing the object in her hands immediately, and held back a sob as she realized that Hajime remembered. “So, how about it? Will you go out with me? I promise I’ll make you karaage any time you like, and I made really good confectionaries, and you can steal all my jackets as you like and we can get you all the bunny plushies in the world and—“

And Akeno was laughing, crying, taking the bunny plushy from his hands and rushed forward to envelope him in the tiniest, warmest hug he had ever received in his whole life. “Yes,” he heard her saying, then, more clearly than ever, like a ringing bell in the foggy morning, “yes, I’ll go out with you, Iwaizumi-senpai!”

And really, if people looked at them weird because they were hugging on the side of the road, crying and sniffling and giggling like middle school girls, Hajime could honestly give less than half a shit, because he was too busy wrapping his head around the unfathomable happiness that filled his heart to the brim. Oikawa was going to be insufferably smug, Hajime was too happy to even feel frustrated though.

Because they were shyly holding hands on their way to the bus stop, the bunny plushy safely strapped to Akeno’s bag, and her smile was bright enough to light the whole world. Hajime’s world, at least. And as he looked at her, smiling softly at the radiant joy on every line of her face, he felt his heart beat so loud he could hear it in his ears. Like his feelings and happiness and sheer force of affection for Hana was about to burst.

Like a soda pop.

[rosepetals-flyingbirds]

Alluring. (5/5)

With: Detective!Bucky x Witch!Reader.

Words: 3,632.

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All the amazing time you had banished like thin smoke in the air.

Yasmin was desperate and confused about how the frog grabbed Jack's ring.

Barnes went mad to the hotel, the last time he felt so welcomed it was way before he was an adult. And even if forbidden any interaction with witnesses or suspects, he loved the morning he had. You were very nice, the girls likes him and he felt, peace.

And by your reaction, you knew who the pedant belonged to.

And then, he acquired a proof of Yasmin's involvement in Jack's missing, and you, he scoffed thinking of how naive he was.

It was forbidden to spend time with the suspects, he needed to make questions and leave, not having breakfast!

Which made you guilty for hiding information and protect a suspect from the law.

The education and gentleness you showed him were probably to mislead him.

As Bucky grabbed the letter you've sent to Yasmin before Jack disappeared, you walked to the hotel he was staying.

Lying farther wouldn't help, and lying to him seemed even more... tainted.

You asked about him in the reception, and even if the impolite old man didn't tell you which room the detective was staying, the fact that it only had a room being rented you knew it was him.

Taking a deep breath you prayed that whatever occurs won't take your daughters away from you.

Four knocks met the door and it opened with a surprised James Barnes.

"Hi, can I come in?" You asked in a small voice.

Bucky's face kept stoical, professional, as he should have been the whole case.

Years of professionalism to be dragged out of the window with such ferocity.

James nodded and you walked in the small room, files placed in the bed, you spotted a familiar one and retrieved the paper with your words on it.

"What is this?"

"Yours."

"Yes, and why do you have it?"

"Because it speaks of a disappeared criminal, so it's the government’s property now." His voice was still composure and you threw the letter back at the mattress.

"Jack Rollings is dead." You confessed.

"Who killed him?"

"Me."

"Why?"

"It was self-defense, and I assure you that. I never killed anyone before. He was abusing Yasmin and one night, she called me asking for help. That he was out of his mind, punching her, obliging her to do... sex." You took a deep breath at the mention of abuse. "I mean she won't agree with this, will only say that he wanted to have more sex and that was okay. And when I drove to get her back home, he placed a knife on her neck, he was drunk and probably on drugs too, I had to drive his car whenever he told me to or else he would kill my sister. As you know, I know how to deal with plants and herbs, and has a herb called belladonna which Yasmin used to calm him down times to times, so there was a small quantity in his car. He made me stop to piss somewhere in the road and dragged Yasmin by her hair, so I wouldn't drive away with her, which trust me! I would. So in an instinct I grabbed the herbs and placed in one of his alcohol bottles, the quantity I placed wasn't to kill him, I just wanted him to pass out so I could run away and press charges against him. But maybe the belladonna mixed with some other drug and he died, overdose probably. Yasmin started to yell and say that I would lose my children and they can't be without me, trust me I know how it's to grow without parents and they lost their father already they don't have to lose me too." Tears started to fell from your eyes and Bucky grabbed a box of tissue handing it to you. He kept silent, waiting for you to finish the story. "You've done your research, therefore, you know how people in this town call us witches. Part of that is true, but I never did any sort of black magic, but with Yasmin yelling and the idea of losing my children I got desperate. I drove back home and I and Yasmin did a ritual to bring him back, and it worked."

"He got back to life?"

"Sort of, when you do magic that involves dark elements, it doesn't work as it should. Bringing someone back from the dead it... it's terrible."

"And you did it."

"Yes, I mean it was a raper and abuser, who bad he could come as? He... did, he woke up but his eyes were blank, he grabbed Yasmin by the neck and strangled her, he was stronger than before so I hit him with a pan over and over. And he died, again, so that time we buried him in my yard. I don't know how that bird held his pendant, I really don’t. But that is the truth, I know enough about the law that the fact that I lied with make things worse, and... and do whatever you have to do."

Bucky kept staring at you silently, hundreds of thoughts running through his head. Yes, you could have fixed this, going to the cops and explained what happened.

But as you lied to a federal and had a body in your yard, it made things worse.

His chest was beating in disappointment, you didn’t deserve it.

He should take you out of his room, or put cuffs on you and take you to his city, but instead, he sat in the mattress by your side.

"I don’t believe in magic, but I don’t believe you would kill someone. Am I wrong?"

"No. I swear for my life that it was self-defense."

"Alright. I..." He took a deep breath, and for your surprise, he chuckled. "Magic uh?!"

"Yeah."

Seriousness found him again, he had a job to do. "Listen, I have to take you and Yasmin back with me, and found lawyers to the two of you."

It was inevitable, then you had to prove for the judge. Which was impossible.

You looked down at your hands and glanced around his room, clearly to avoid him.

"I, uh, I-" He stuttered. "Well, I wish things were different. I really do."

Looking up at him you realized how blue his eyes were, up close, a hint of grey making them even more charming.

In a trance, you pressed your forehead against his, he was pulling you to him, and you didn’t know why.

Buck forgot all of his police speech and grabbed your cheek placing his lips against yours.

Your surprise was momentanous as you quickly got engulfed at the feeling.

Your hands found his neck and after what seemed like seconds you were straddling him. Bucky gripped your hips and pulled your body closer to his, while you were lost in the moment you realized how stronger his left grip felt, you broke the kiss and looked down at his hands, he always wore gloves.

You touched his hands and pulled the material off of his hand, the right on was normal, flesh one. And the left was metal. "What?"

Bucky looked at his hand and worried that your face was of disgust.

While you thought about the spell you made years ago, and like a flash, you started to rememeber the items. Blue eyes, bake a cake in 10 minutes, like children, like animals, you wouldn't be able to lie, an arm metal arm like Robocop, a man of justice.

You got in your feet and left the room in a rush, he couldn't be! It was a spell, an ingenious spell.

Bucky saw you leaving and looked at his arm in disappointment. "I lost it in a war."

                             …

That couldn't be happening. You were a kid! A mere kid that made a stupid spell, and you were very clear in what to pinpoint how your "prince charming" would be like.

It couldn't be real.

It couldn't be James Barnes.

As your steps lead you home, your thoughts were running a mile per hour. You kissed him. The detective that will put you and your sister in jail.

Reaching your house you heard shouts, Amélia's shout.

Your heart broke and you ran to her reach, going up the stairs you saw Iara crying in the floor and Yasmin desperately looking at Amélia.

"What is happening?"

"Is Jack! He is using her!" Yasmin yelled and your eyes filled with water, fear filling your being.

Amélia was in bed, sweating and shaking. "Leave her alone!" You shouted and tried to touch your child.

Jack's almost transparent figure got out of her body and stared at you, his eyes filled with mockery. "Little Amélia was so nice seeing me in the yard, how could I not take advantage of that."

"Get out of my daughter's body!" You shouted and Jack's kept hurting your daughter.

The door downstairs was beat and after a couple of seconds Bucky came to the room, you looked at him confused and him, even out of breath, stopped his steps and stared at Amélia. "What is going on?"

Amélia looked at him and smile. "Oh Detective Barnes, came all the way over here just to find me?" Amélia's lips formed into a mocked pout.

"Jack?!" Bucky was wide-eyed.

Amélia grabbed your arm and you cried at how hard her grip was, Bucky ran to your reach and held her arm pulling her away from you, an instinct of protecting you rising on him, but as the metal hand touched her skin, she screamed, and Jack's transparent spirit got out of her.

Yasmin looked at Buck's arm and knew it was because of the metal.

"Y/N! Ghosts don't like metal!"

You looked at Buck and back at Amélia.

The girl fell in bed sweating.

"Sweetheart, hey hey." You called her and was relieved to know Jack wasn't inside her.

For now.

She started to cry and you hugged her firmly. "Shh its okay, baby."

You looked at Buck who was still shocked about the whole thing. You grabbed Amélia's face in your hands and looked at her deep in her eyes. "Listen, you stay here with Bucky and me and Yasmin will grab aunt Bim and aunt Mira. Okay? He will protect you and I'll be back. Alright?"

She seemed unsure for a bit but nodded, you held Bucky's hands and tried to regain your breath. "Listen, the metal in your arm will hurt Jack if comes around again, I need to place his body on fire so his spirit will be gone. Alright? Please, I- I know it's a lot to ask but please just... protect her for me."

Buck could say no and that he had a job to do and take the body back to his city, he could run away from the mess and avoid all of the baggage.

But how could he say no to you?

"Of course." He held Amélia's arm and you grabbed Yasmin's hand, Iara was still crying so you kneeled in front of her and dried her tears. 

"My love, do you want to go with me and aunt Yasmin or stay with Amélia and Bucky?"

"I want to stay."

"Alright then. Be careful." You kissed her forehead and looked back at Amélia who was almost sleeping duo exhaustion.

Since Yasmin came back and the aunt knew something was going on they left the house and stood in a cottage in the woods.

You and Yasmin ran to them but since the family bond made them feel your distress they found you in the middle of the path.

"Hey, so, listen-" You took a deep breath, oxygen running away from your lungs. "There is a ghost of a really bad man and he possed Amélia and we need to place his body on fire!"

They nodded instantly and went to the house after you. "He possessed little Amélia? Oh I will burn him with salvia!" Bim yelled.

Back at home you and Yasmin ran outside getting the sholves and started to take the earth out of Jack's burial.

Finding his body you and Yasmin looked at him on the floor and the aunts came running with salt, gasoline and some herbs to make sure he will be gone.

Forever.

You and Yasmin got out of the whole and you held the salt throwing it on his body.

The four of you started to recite a expelling spell and the winds started to go faster making the leaves in the floor flown.

Yasmin threw gasoline on his whole body. And your aunts threw the herbs. You grabbed a match and lit it letting it fall on Jack's body.

Since the quantity of gasoline it got fire instantly.

Jack's spirit got back to his body and he yelled in agony. As the fire grew bigger and the chanting louder Bucky and the girls came downstairs to see what was happening.

The fire grew taller before dying completely.

The smells of burned flesh was heavy and you coughed looking at your aunt to be sure it was done. They smiled at you with a nod and you let a relieved sigh.

You and Yasmin placed the earth back to the body, when it was done, you kneeled in the floor hugging your children, you looked up at Buck and he gave you a small smile trying to tell you that it was okay.

Buck left after a couple of hours and hugged your children and hugged you briefly saying that he had to go, but for you do not worry.

Seeing him leaving made your heart break, there it was, the agony you always tried to prevent.

A Month Later.

After placing Jack's body on fire everything got back to normal. Yasmin started to help you in the shop and even sold a few of her made clothes.

Amélia was great and the incident was forgotten.

And you... well, you kept breathing. Doing your chores, being there for your kids.

But something was missing, someone.

Buck didn't contact you afterward, he sent a letter to you that was a digitized document of the government saying that Jack's body wasn't found and the case was closed.

Your eyes filled with grateful tears reading the paper, that meant he lied for you, lied to save yours, your sister and your kids' lives.

After that, he didn't send anything else.

Didn't call. He did nothing.

Two Months Later.

You were sitting in your yard, gazing at the stars and thinking about life when your heart clenched, your blood ran faster and you knew he was close.

Looking back at the house you saw Buck coming with a smile.

You walked to his reach and when you were centimeters from him he clashed his lips against yours.

It was heaven.

"I missed you, Y/N, so much."

"I missed you too, Buck, why did you help me? Why you told your boss and colleagues that you haven't found the body?"

He grabbed your hands and brought them to his lips. "I never believed in magic, but when I saw your daughter in pain and Jack's body, well, spirit, getting out of her flash I couldn't just ignore that. Jack was a monster and you did what you did in self-defense. And they wouldn't believe, they didn't see what I did, and I couldn't bear the error of placing you in jail. You're not a murderer."

Your eyes filled with tears, you didn't mean to kill Jack, not really. And his understanding of the matter meant a lot.

But as his lips reached yours again you pulled back. "I, I have something to tell you."

You sat in the floor again and pulling with you, Buck was worried about your scared look.

"When I was a child, I didn't want to fall in love. Ever. So I made a spell to prevent it, but we can't block love so I decided to prevent it by choosing someone that didn't exist. I said that he would have the bluest eyes, he would be kind, gentle, a man of the law, that he would like kids, and animals. That he would bake a cake in 10 minutes, he would speak four languages and would have a Robocop's arm. And that is you." You cried harder and Buck was confused by your words, yes, it was almost a description of him but it wasn't like you made him up.

"Y/N." You avoided his eyes. "Hey, look at me."

"I can't."

"I love you."

You looked at him startled, you loved him too, with your whole heart. But it wasn't real. It was a spell.

"You don't."

"I do, I know what I feel. What are you scared of?"

"Because it's not true, it's a spell."

"Y/N, how old were you when you made it?"

"Around six years."

"I'm older than you, I was born already." He smiled. "I was giving ma and dad a lot of trouble already." You smiled. "I know that what I feel is real, and I know you feel the same."

You tried everything to prevent it, to love and be loved. And when you broke your own rule, your sweet Paterson died, because of a curse.

But James Barnes was your impossible man, the man that you asked about because it wasn't real.

But there he was, and the curse wouldn't reach him.

You jumped in his arms hugging him, keeping his scent in your mind, feeling safe.

You broke your firm embrace and looked at him, slightly embarrassed. "So, uh, what how? I don't want to rush things."

His laugh was rich and made you smile contagiously. "I think it is late for that. I mean, I already have your family’s approval and we already had breakfast together, and we are sort of kissing in your yard so." He joked making you smile wilder. "But seriously now, I will take you on a date and if you take me in I'll stay here with you. Because I know it's where I wanna be, is where I always knew I needed to be. I always felt alone, out of place, but I found you. And that is magic for me."

                   …

@salimahbicharara-comun​ @buckybabybaby​ @velvetwonderbucky​

[justatiredghost]

Fixes to the Timeline Ch5

Klaus and Dave generally have a nice time for a change, and Dave gets to meet and actually get to know Ben

(Start at Ch1)

-

Of course Dave had seen televisions before. His family had had one, even if they hadn’t been able to afford the fancy new ones with color. But the one Klaus showed him was absolutely nothing like he was expecting. It was like they had a movie theater in their living room, but instead of a grainy projector it was just a huge screen, so thin he thought it had to be built into the wall instead of simply hanging on it. 

He was so amazed by it all that it thankfully distracted him from how nervous he suddenly found himself. He’d invited Ben along on a whim, not really thinking beyond knowing Klaus would probably appreciate it. Besides, Dave was a friendly guy, he liked meeting new people and hanging out, and he’d heard so much about Ben he was excited to actually get to know him. But this wasn’t just anyone. This was Klaus’ best friend and closest sibling and Dave really didn’t want to mess this up. He just desperately wanted to make a good impression.

Thankfully Ben was incredibly easy to get along with. The three of them had a very similar sense of humor and they talked and laughed constantly. And the movie they picked was absolutely fantastic. Their sister was an amazing actress and getting to hear stories of what she’d been like growing up and the various antics they used to get up to really just made it even better.

When Klaus left to grab snacks after the first film, though, all of the anxiety came flooding back. Having Klaus there had made it so easy, but now without him to play off of Dave panicked and suddenly had no idea what to say.  His brain tended to shut off entirely in moments like these and he would just say whatever nonsense came to mind. Not ideal when trying not to put off the brother of the man he’d really like to spend the rest of his life with.

“So,” he said with no real idea what was about to come out of his mouth and just hoping he wouldn't sound like a complete idiot. The quiet always did make him uncomfortable. “How have classes been?” 

Nice, that wasn’t too bad. Maybe he could get through this after all.

“Not bad,” Ben said. “It’s been difficult getting used to studying and having responsibilities again but honestly the structure it provides has been kinda nice.”

“That’s good,” Dave said. “I never did graduate highschool.” And there it was. He really hadn’t lasted long, had he? 

It wasn’t that he was ashamed, exactly. It was common enough for kids to drop out of school to help supplement the family’s income, especially where he grew up. And while education had always been important to his family, he’d never had the sort of ambition his brilliant sisters had so ensuring they could go to college was one of the few decisions in his life he’d never regret. It was just that there was so much about himself that was unremarkable and he couldn’t help but feel inadequate next to this family of literal superheroes. 

Sure he’d only really spent much time around Klaus, Five, and now Ben, but this entire family just seemed so smart and amazing and he was worried he’d never be able to impress any of them. Klaus already knew all his secrets of course and for some reason didn’t seem to mind, but Dave didn’t exactly want to go around announcing anything that could be perceived as a shortcoming to these people. His usual strategy was to get people to realize he was amusing enough to have around before they found out how otherwise boring he really was. 

“I think, technically, none of us did either,” Ben said and that was a relief. Maybe no one in this family would be the type to look down on him for it then. “I’m not sure Dad’s curriculum was exactly approved. I wasn’t really sure what to do with my second shot at life, though, and figured this was somewhere to start. What about you? Any ideas what you want to do now?”

“I honestly have no idea,” Dave laughed. He wondered if he should have some sort of stock answer for this he could throw out, but he didn’t want to be insincere with Klaus’ family, even if he was worried about giving the wrong answer. “I didn’t even know what I was going to do after the war and now suddenly I’m in the future? Still can’t wrap my mind around that. I worked a bunch of odd jobs but I don’t know if any of that knowledge will get me anywhere here. I mean, it’s not like I have any references.”

“Yeah, we’re gonna have to get you a new ID or something,” Ben said. “I don’t think anyone’s gonna believe that you’re, what, 75? 80?”

“Yeah, at least I look good for my age.” 

Thank goodness Klaus chose that moment to come back and put an end to Dave’s floundering.

-

It was a lazy day, all in all, filled with more talking and joking than anything else. It started raining at some point and Klaus ended the evening in the best way possible, curled up against Dave by the window, watching another movie, Dave continuing to rave about his sister’s acting abilities. By the time they finally retired for the night, Klaus had just about banished the shadow that had been hanging over him since that morning’s nightmare. It was hard, dragging himself away from his comfortable position, but they’d already stayed up much later than he’d meant to and he didn’t want to push Dave too much while he was still healing. 

“So,” Dave said as he collapsed into bed with a heavy sigh. “How do you think it went? Is he okay with me?”

“I’d say more than okay,” Klaus said, kissing his cheek as he crawled into bed next to him. “You were amazing.”

“Yeah, right,” Dave scoffed, staring at the ceiling like he was avoiding eye contact. 

“What’s up?” Klaus said as he sat up, finding his hand and lacing their fingers together..

“We haven’t really talked about it,” Dave said, still not looking at him and sounding incredibly hesitant. “But what happens if they don’t like me? I know how important your family is to you, I don’t want to ruin--”

“I’m just gonna stop you right there,” Klaus said. “First of all, that’s impossible. Everyone loves you. Which means they’ll love you too, and I’m always right--”

“You’re rarely right,” Dave cut in with a grin, finally looking at him.

“I’m always right,” Klaus reemphasized. “And second, it really doesn't matter what they think. It’s the same as when we were talking about going back and maybe meeting your family. We’re in this together, right?”

“Hmm,” Dave said, still sounding uncertain as he studied the ceiling again, but then he turned towards him, bringing their clasped hands to his lips briefly. “I still don’t want you to lose what you’ve built here. Guess I better just pull out all the stops and charm the heck out of all of them.”

“Why don’t you ever pull out all the stops for me?” Klaus asked with a grin, cuddling closer, tangling their legs together.

“I do, all the time,” Dave said, looking surprised. “Wait, shit, have you never noticed? Maybe I’m not as charming as I thought.”

“I guess you do all right,” Klaus allowed with a half shrug.

“Oh, just all right?” Dave asked, kissing his nose.

“Everyone knows I'm the one with all the charisma.” 

“It’s true. I love you,” Dave said, wrapping his arms around him and burying his face in his chest.

“I love you too,” Klaus said, holding him close.

They were quiet then, Klaus wishing there was more he could do to reassure him. He loved his family, of course he did. As messed up as they all were, he still liked being around them. Most of the time, anyway. But this was Dave and there was no way he would lose him again. If his family really couldn’t be happy for them, then fine. He’d already done this without them and he could do it again. But he didn’t want to do this without Dave.

Not that it was likely to come to that. He really did mean it, Dave was always able to win people over, even in a war zone where tensions were high and yet he never seemed to realize how impressive that was. That was probably why he doubted himself now. Klaus didn’t want to leave the conversation here, he wanted to at least distract Dave from his worries so after a long pause he finally spoke up again.

“So,” he said. “What did you think of our TV?”

“It’s so huge!” Dave all but shouted in his excitement, pulling away so he could gesture broadly. 

“I know, pretty great, right? Ben, Diego, and Luther picked it out. Dad would be so pissed. Frivolous entertainment, and all that. I think that’s why they got it, really. Now that he can’t stop us, we gotta fill the place with everything he’d hate. Also, it’s something Diego and Luther can do that doesn’t involve arguing which is a bit of a relief for the rest of us.”

“Well, good, I’m glad they have something to bond over,” Dave said. “I just can’t get over how thin it is. Is all technology like that?”

“I guess,” Klaus said, raising one shoulder in a half-shrug. “I never really was up on the latest tech news, but they do seem to be making the hardware smaller all the time. Bigger screens are more normal now, but ours is definitely overkill.”

“The future is wild,” Dave said, settling back down again. “I really don’t know what to expect from the future. It’s a bit intimidating, honestly”

“I don’t know, I feel like it hasn’t changed all that much, apart from the technology of course. And medicine. But don’t worry, I’ll show you around.”

“My hero,” Dave chuckled. “Can’t wait.”

-

Klaus wasn’t used to waking peacefully, so when he found himself slowly coming to in a warm bed, the ghosts unusually quieted to a whisper, his first thought was to wonder what had gone wrong. But he was still sober and when he pried his eyes open it was to find himself in his bedroom lying beside a quietly snoring Dave. It was hard to hold onto any worry when confronted with the sight of Dave sprawled against him in a way that did not look comfortable at all, his face pressed into the pillow, mouth slightly open as he drooled a little, his hair messy and sticking up at odd angles. He was absolutely beautiful.

Klaus found himself reflexively hiding his smile against his arm as he just looked at him, feeling warm to his core in a way that had nothing to do with the temperature, although he was cozy enough wrapped up in blankets, pressed up against another warm body. It was a feeling he’d never really experienced before, not until he met Dave of course. It was affection, yes, but also admiration and so much more. It was knowing that he was the first and last thing he wanted to see every day, it was wanting to go on adventures and to always find out new things about him. And knowing that Dave felt the same as well.

Even back in the war, with the constant chaos, every sense overwhelmed with too much noise, too much action, too much pain, he would still sometimes catch sight of Dave, see him be just so incredibly himself, probably doing something inconsequential or stupid, and Klaus would be hit with this feeling all over again. 

It was hope, too. Dave always had been too optimistic and at some point it had rubbed off and he’d made Klaus hope as well. Apparently Dave had been right in the end, because here they were, safe and alive. The world wasn’t ending and there was no war raging right outside that they had to get back to. Sure, the future was still terrifying and he had no idea what he was supposed to do with his life, but he didn’t have to think about that right now. It really could just be the two of them here, together.

Dave stirred beside him, pulling him out of his thoughts. He stretched with a huge yawn before his eyes finally opened and he spotted Klaus watching him.

“What?” he mumbled, voice adorably rough from sleep. “There something on my face?”

Klaus launched himself at him, pulling a breathless laugh from him as he wrapped Dave in a crushing full body hug, practically lying on top of him.

“You’re cute,” Klaus said where his face was pressed into his shoulder.

“Pretty sure you’re the cute one,” Dave said, rubbing a hand across his back, still chuckling. 

“Well, obviously, but you can be too.”

“Good, we can be cute together,” Dave said, stifling another yawn. “You sleep okay then?”

“Yeah, you?”

“Yeah, I think I’m finally getting used to this bed.”

Klaus was tempted to stay like this forever, but he suddenly had so much energy, he wanted to move, to do things, and to spend every moment with Dave.

“Breakfast?” he asked, lifting his head to look at him.

“Breakfast,” Dave agreed, giving him a quick kiss before they reluctantly drew apart, getting up to get dressed. There was a spring in Klaus’ step and it seemed to be contagious because Dave was smiling as well. 

Klaus’ outfit ended up being a bit more ostentatious than it had been lately, he was feeling too good to wear anything boring so he gravitated to some of his favorites. He was just checking himself in the mirror to make sure everything was just right when he caught sight of Dave in the reflection.

He wasn’t sure he’d ever really get used to the way Dave looked at him sometimes. Sure, Klaus had been admired before, often actually, but this wasn’t quite that, or at least it was more than just appreciation. Dave looked at him like he was someone to be proud of, like he admired not just the way he looked but who he was as a person as well. There was just so much fondness in his eyes that it left Klaus feeling off balanced and brought back that warmth deep in his chest. 

“You look great,” Dave said as he moved to stand behind him, arms around his waist and chin resting on his shoulder.

“Thanks,” Klaus said, winking at Dave’s reflection. “Not so bad yourself.”

“Come on, Ben leaves for college tomorrow, right? We should take advantage of today while we can.”

“I’ll happily ditch him if you wanted to have a quieter day today,” Klaus said, turning around to face him properly, arms around his neck. “He’d understand.”

“I honestly don’t mind, I had fun yesterday,” Dave said, giving him a quick kiss. “He’s important to you so he’s important to me too.”

“Someone can be important and you can still want some time alone,” Klaus said.

“You trying to tell me something?” Dave joked.

“Hilarious,” Klaus said, rolling his eyes. “You know I want to take up all your time.”

“Glad to hear, me too,” Dave chuckled, before continuing more sincerely. “Really, though, I’d like to get to know your family.”

“You’re gonna regret those words,” Klaus said with a grin, only half joking. But he laughed as he took Dave’s hand and they headed off to find some food.

[bellatrixobsessed1]

A Flame For A Cabbage (Part 11)

Azula feels a faint sense of accomplishment as she lounges in her booth at the Jasmine Dragon. It is a shame that the old man in charge has been arrested, even with all of the ingredients, she can’t seem to make roast duck the way he does. She sighs, why does this victory feel so empty? She should be thrilled, she has just taken down the boy responsible for consistently destroying her cabbage stalls. Yet, she can’t help but to feel this sense of incompletion. A soft inkling that somehow the boy has survived and that her cabbages are still very much in danger. It helps less that Princess Sie has stolen half of her Dialluminati agents. One of the remaining agents had apologetically informed her that the other half were off to a top secret conference for the lizard people. He was killed immediately. She had to flee, for she now knows too much. This, she realizes, is a recurring problem in her life. She is an intelligent young cabbage merchant and people fear that kind of intellectualism.

She looks up from her stolen meal and shudders. A man in black glares at her from across the vacant tea shop. He has been following her for the better part of the day, occasionally holding up signs that read, ‘surrender your memories and we won’t hurt you’ and ‘you’ve heard nothing’ and ‘your reality isn’t real, you aren’t real’ and ‘Tin-Tin’s Turnips, only 2 copper pieces!’’ She thinks that, that last guy is confused as to what the Dialluminati’s objectives are. That or he is not part of the Dialluminati at all, he is simply trying to advertise and the extra signage is hindering his business.

No matter, Azula drinks from her tea. She refuses to let pesky secret agents slow her down, not after such a grand victory. With the avatar out of the way, she can sell cabbages without fear. Really, she has arrived at a new high point in her career, she is in the perfect position to begin expanding her business.

She has come to a striking realization. A realization that she is wasting her talents here in the Earth Kingdom where these savages have not acquired a taste for the delicacy that is a good cabbage. Indeed she has traveled all about the Earth Kingdom and for her troubles, has only received little pay off.

Well she is done dealing with and fraternizing with barbarians. It is time to move on. She knows in her heart that the Fire Nation is where she belongs! Now those are people with the riches and class to appreciate the wonders and unbridled joys of a perfect cabbage.

All she has to do is get Jet to stop hissing and screeching whenever she mentions firebenders and the Fire Nation. “REEEEEEEE!” He yells, and swipes his claws at her.

“Come on, Jet, we need to do this.”

“REEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!” He screeches again, but this time with more passion. He flings himself from the table.

“Jet.” She says firmly.

She is met with another hiss.

The Dailluminati agent tasked with stalking her judges her from the table on the other side of the tea shop.

.oOo.

“You seem so downcast. Has Mai gotten to you already?” Sei (for he hasn’t spelled his name that way in a while) is well aware of Mai’s ability to spread her drab demnor. It is her superpower. She doesn’t know it, but she is a type of spiritbender; left unchecked, this will become a problem. It is already a minor issues, as she is unknowingly adding gloom to the auras of many around her. “Though actually, Mai has been in a strangely good mood lately.” It is probably because Zuko is home and she knows that they can make out in the turtle duck pond again.

“I haven't seen Dad yet.” Zuko replies. “I haven't seen him in three years, since I was banished.”

Well no shit, Sei thinks. He really does hate it when there is a forced plot summary, especially when a show has been at least ten years past its conclusion. But then again, it has never been discussed that Zuko had been banished for leaving his socks just laying around the house, despite father politely requesting that he does not.  Ozai has a fear of socks. In fact socks were outlawed in the Fire Nation. But Zuko somehow got his hands on contraband socks and was fool enough to leave them lying around.

“So what?” Sei finally asks.

“So, I didn't capture the Avatar!”

Sei rolls his eyes. “Who cares? The Avatar is dead, unless you think he somehow miraculously survived.”

Zuko seems to drift off then, thinking about something. Sei imagines that he is thinking about frozen yogurt. Seeming to come back into the present, Zuko replies, “This isn’t Mortal Combat, there's no way he could have survived.”

Sie (growing sick of spelling his name, Sei) glares down at Zuko. And Zuko glares up at him. And he glares down at Zuko who continues to glare up. And then they shift positions and glare at each other from a different angle. And Iroh glares at both of them from his cell. They cannot see it, but they can feel it.

“Well, then I'm sure you have nothing to worry about.” This isn’t strictly true. He should be worried about Iroh. They should all be worried about Iroh. Iroh is very. Very. Angry.

.oOo.

Azula frowns very intensely. “Jet, get down from there!”

But the boy has gone absolutely feral. Azula sighs, she didn’t want to have to do this… She wanders up to the Dailluminati agent. He flinches, never before in his days of following a target has the target approached him. Usually they just note his presence with sideways glances and nervous laugher. This girl is brazen. “Agent, you will help me transport my boyfriend to the Fire Nation.”

She would do it herself but Jet is heavy in all his muscular, chiseled glory, and she is still very woefully small.  “I will subdue him and you will carry him into the ship.”

“I don’t know if I feel comfortable helping you abduct your boyfriend.”

“But you are comfortable abducting me and taking me to your shady lizard-person organization for memory erasure and possible re-education?”

The Dailluminati agent chuckles nervously.  

“That is what I thought.” Azula declares. “Now, help me get him to the Fire Nation.”

Jet throws himself at Azula who gives him a light zap. He recoils with another hiss. Azula shakes her head. “You are going to have to face your fear and hatred of the Fire Nation, Jet. It’ll be good for you and for our business.”

On all fours he scampers into a corner, still hissing.

“I didn’t want to have to do this…” She trails off, lightning dancing on her fingers.

“You’re not supposed to have lightningbending.” The Dailluminati agent declares.

Azula scoffs, “And, you’re a background character, you’re not supposed to have any lines.” But it is too late, her lightningbending has been revoked. It is a good thing that she has a backup plan. She wanders into the backroom and fetches a spray bottle. “Don’t make me do this, Jet.”

.oOo.

Nighttime arrives in the Fire Nation. It has arrived several hours ago, in fact. Zuko has wasted his whole day away, brooding and sulking, and thinking about the avatar and failure. And he is about to waste his night away...and Sie’s...doing the same.

“Why'd you do it!?” He demands of the princess.

“You're going to have to be a little more Pacific.” He coughs. “I mean, specific. Sorry, it’s three in the morning, I should be sleeping.” He gives his brother a pointed glare.

“Why did you tell Father that I was the one who killed the Avatar?” He ignores the princess’ saltiness.

“Can't this wait until the morning?” Sie grumbles.

“It. Can.” Zuko replies. “But I want to make this conversation as aggravating as possible!”

Sie groans. “Fine.” He mutters. “You kept whining like a lil’ bitch because you hadn't captured the Avatar. I figured if I gave you the credit, you'd shut the hell up.” He shrugs.

“But why?”

He truly is trying to be annoying as hell. Rising from his bed, Sie says, “I just answered that.”

“You're lying!” Zuko accuses.

“No, I really did just want you to shut up.” Sie says. He realizes that he is being uncharacteristically unkind. Usually he is a timid man. He thinks that the power is getting to his head. He apologizes to Zuko.

“You have another motive for doing this, I just haven't figured out what it is.” Zuko rambles. Sie thinks that Bosco’s big reveal has pushed him back into his conspiracy theorist phase.

“Please Zuko, what ulterior motive could I have? What could I possibly gain by letting you get all the glory for defeating the Avatar?” He muses. He decides that it is time to annoy Zuko back. So he encroaches in Zuko’s personal space. He puts a hand on his shoulder. “Unless, somehow, the Avatar was actually alive. How crazy would that be!? But you said it yourself, that was impossible.”

Zuko visibly shivers. But Sie is only trying to prep him for all of the possibilities. Things always tend to go amiss for him, he has learned to take every victory with a grain of salt. “Sleep well, Zuzu.”

Zuko’s nose crinkles at the nickname.

.oOo.

“You need to stop crying. Crying is weak. We can’t afford weakness when making such a huge step in our business.” Azula says matter of factly.

“But I don’t wanna goooooo.” Jet wails as though he is not already in the middle of the ocean.

“We are already on our way.” Azula declares.

“But firebenders are evil!”

Azula finds herself deeply offended, but she can’t place why. She is not a firebender. She is, when the plot calls for it, a cabbagebender. But mostly she is but a humble cabbage farmer tending to her cabbage crops. No less she replies, “some firebenders are actually somewhat decent.” She thinks that most people are more or less decent, so long as they aren’t particularly destructive of her cabbage stall.

Without warning, the boat lurches. The tides are growing restless. Azula frowns, she does not like tides. They slam into the boat once more.

“These tides are making me nervous, captain.” A crew member cries out.

But it is not the tides that they should worry about. They should be worrying about her. She, who is growing more and more dissatisfied with every crash of the tides. A particularly strong slap sends ship furniture sliding. Azula’s eyes go wide. She watches as her cabbage stall sails, seemingly in slow motion, over the railings. “My cabbages!” Azula laments to the swirling, merciless, sea.

[mitigatedchaos]

Isekai Iterations

(The baseline calibration isekai, “How Can I Be the Hero; I’m Just a High School Student?!” is omitted for brevity.  Please contact your representative if it hasn’t already been downloaded to your template library.)

My Hero, My King (Romantic Comedy, Anime)

All of the force of all of the gods together could not destroy the Demon Overlord, so powerful was his grasp over the very fabric of magic.  But slamming an unstoppable object into an immovable force (we omit a more technical explanation of the arcane principles at work) creates a paradox.  That reaction tore open a portal between worlds and unceremoniously dumped the Demon Overlord in a developed island country that suspiciously resembles Japan.

...where, stripped of most of his otherworldly power, and shocked by the advancement of humanity free of the crush of magic and seemingly also divine intervention, he becomes a video gamer.

And not just any video gamer.  He vows to use his dazzling intensity to become the king of all video games.  

Our story follows the female gamer in his guild that has silently vowed to win his heart, and the challenges she faces in attempting to date the Gamer King.

Twist: At the end of the first season, the Demon Overlord’s analysis of the stars, which he’d put off at the beginning in the first episode, reveals that this isn’t a different world, it’s the same world, millions of years into the future.  The second season gains more drama as magic starts to come back, this time reflecting the nature of the video games around him.

And So I Became A Salaryman (Drama, Live Action)

Ten years ago, Tarou Tanaka was an ordinary high school student who was called away to become the savior of another world, because he was the only one who could.  He fought, and he bled, he met chivalrous damsels and stoic knights, and watched some of them die.

But he won.

Five years after the collapse of the Castle of Shadow, with the world of Lalasenne at peace, a cursed item he had overlooked near the middle of his quest, prepared to stop him by the Dark Lord, hurls him back to reality.  Now in Japan as a 26-year-old man who has been missing for ten years, and having never completed his high school education, he must struggle to reintegrate himself into a world that will believe him delusional.  He’s used to struggle, but the kinds of struggles he’d spent years enduring were physical and dangerous, not quiet and routine.  But he still believes he can succeed.

Twist: Lalasenne isn’t real, but the shadowy laboratory for the military testing of experimental neural interfaces, artificial intelligence, and deep simulation sensory immersion virtual reality is.  Broken signs and fragments of Lalasenne, including figments of the people he once knew, presented in a 2D format that is disconcerting relative to the rest of the 3D show, slowly guide him there, slowly guide him there, to the forbidden place that shouldn’t exist.

Overlord, Inc. (Anime)

Strength, magic, the position of the Moon... these things may be different between worlds, but ambition is not.  That’s the thought of the former vice chancellor of the demonic hordes who was cast into the reality of New York City on Earth... and crawled his way up from homelessness to the boardroom, with the help of making a few mob connections on the way.

Now that he’s stronger than ever, and he’s found an ancient Greek gate which he’s brought to his penthouse suite, he’s decided to go back, and use his newfound knowledge of modernity, including his experience managing the slick logistics of the major corporation he is the vice president of, to teach those who destroyed the demon army and banished him a lesson... through the efficient application of violence.

Twist: After the portal reopens in the second season, he begins to exploit cross-dimensional trade for his advantage so as to become the master of both worlds, but despite the magic, he is arrested by the U.S. federal government on suspicion of trafficking in weapons of mass destruction.  He dies after the mob decide he might reveal too much information on them while in government custody, as the agents who closed in during the late second season begin to unravel the true story behind his empire.

Bountiful World (Anime)

An ordinary student at the magic high school of Montbard in the realm of Elysee is pulled into a strange, ultra-modern world seemingly without magic after being hit by a speeding carriage.  There, he uses his expertise in the magic-enhanced games of his world (and probability-analyzing magic) to become a champion of board and other games in the greater Osaka area.

His mastery reaches such a level as he begins to grasp the more fundamental abstractions on which the rules of the games are based, because in his world, no one had reason to use this kind of magic so deeply and so frequently, and he is recruited by the government in order to resolve business and then political situations.

Twist: He comes to the terrifying realization that life itself is a game that the gods play against each other, and even with all his power, he is just another piece on their gameboard.  On the verge of going mad from this revelation, he considers throwing himself into the harbor, only to realize that this, itself, would be just another move on the gameboard.

The Blackhand Army (Anime adaptation of web novel, Political Drama)

An entire army of orcs, complete with much of its command structure, just straight-up appears one day in the Yunnan province of southern China, without explanation, and leaving the orcs just as startled and surprised as the humans.  A tense political situation results, as internal political factions in China and the neighboring countries argue about whether to capture the orcs (the only source of magic in the world), or destroy them, or attempt to convert them, with different countries - and different battalions of orcs - making different claims.

Twist: When the actual intended leader of the orcs, a very powerful wizard, finally arrives, many of the orc armies have already sided with a human country, fled the area, or are fighting with the Orc Liberation Front to establish an orc territory, and don’t end up obeying him.  His magic still represents a grave threat, however, and the human countries team up to destroy him with their military power, providing a happy ending.  Kind of, anyway.

[treatian]

The Chronicles of the Dark One:  The Dark Curse

Chapter 46:  Beyond Their World

And so it began.

Regina was married. And as he'd watched her walk down the aisle, escorted by her father, and take the King's hand in her own while Snow White beamed, he'd had a vision. A beautiful vision. It was one that he hoped was not the doing of his own imagination but rather the result of the Seer that still lived in his very skin. The vision was of Regina, but not the scared little doe-eyed girl that was marrying the King if only to keep herself safe from persecution, no, certainly not. This Regina was older, darker. The white smile on her face was not one of true happiness but rather a smile of a trickster. She'd been dressed in black, her clothing showing off shapely curves, her hair twisted high into a knot on her head. In her hand was a heart, glowing red and beautiful and the name, the moniker that came to mind as he watched the priest pronounce them Man and Wife was not Queen Regina, but rather, The Evil Queen.

How reassuring.

And yet, there was still a long way to go before that vision was achieved; he simply knew it. The lessons that followed it confirmed it.

Regina was different than Cora in several ways, some good and some bad. Her strength, the magic that flowed through his new student, was powerful, far more than her mother's. But getting her to use it…now that was a tricky task. Cora had had such a difficult life she'd been determined to do anything she could to get ahead. That determination was her motivation, and Cora had taken in every lesson he'd ever taught her, taking it upon herself to quickly master what she'd never had access to before.

Regina had no such motivation. True, her childhood with Cora had not been an easy or enjoyable one. But where her father, Daniel, and even her horses were concerned, she'd had a much better life than Cora. The good had outweighed the bad. And now with Cora secure in Wonderland, the guards searching the Kingdom hopelessly for her after Regina had told them she'd stepped out and never returned, there was very little he had to work with. Her father was with her, happy and healthy, getting along splendidly with the King. Her horses were safe and at her disposal. And Daniel…he, or rather, his body was a problem. Still kept protected by Regina's preservation spell, she was often distracted by that body. It gave Regina hope, and he realized after a short amount of time that it wasn't for power or even protection she was learning magic, but rather with the hope that one day she might bring her love back to life. She was wrong, of course, in many ways. She needed hate and devastation to fuel her as he'd seen thus far. Not hope.

All he really had to work with after Cora's banishment, was Regina's current marriage. Being married to the King was not something Regina was happy about. There were perks, and what came with the union was why she'd ultimately followed through, but it wasn't what she'd hoped. And how could it have been? Married again barely a year after his wife had died?! Leopold was too attached to Snow to really care for his new wife the way a husband should. Regina knew it. And she felt it as well. He encouraged those emotions, not only because he knew what would come, but because it helped egg her on now.

Cora's spell over the mirrors turned out to have been sealed using blood magic, and he was quick to convince Regina that it would be smart to undo it, but the actual act had been something of a challenge.

"But then…if I do this…won't people be able to see in to me? Dressing or…or bathing?!"

"The answer to that is simple…" in midair, he conjured a blanket and threw it over the mirror they were working with. "No sight…no sound…but as it is, if you ever found yourself with a need to get in communication with someone, say…your teacher…you'd be able to see, but not hear…very poor way of communication if you ask me.

"But then…" he removed the blanket quickly. "What does it matter? If it makes you uncomfortable? It's not as if you're not already watched constantly by the King…by Snow White…the servants even…"

"But…I am watched by them. Constantly, it's as if they don't ever stop looking in on me."

Indeed, it was getting more and more difficult for them to find time and places to practice for even just a few minutes before someone stormed in to demand her time.

"So…wouldn't it be nice to have the upper hand, to give them a taste of their own medicine? To watch the King as he works? To overhear every last word dear Snow White says to everyone?"

A sneer grew over Regina's mouth. "Show me how!"

And with that, Cora's spell was undone. Sight and sound into Regina's life was restored. But it wasn't always easy. One problem Regina had that Cora never did was time. Engaged to her Prince in his castle, she'd always managed to find time for magic. But as the acting Queen, step-mother to a young girl, and wife to the King, her schedule was packed tight. In the end, the mirrors were helpful to communicate even if all they had was ten minutes or so. The rest of the time he spent back at his castle, waiting for the next summons, plotting his next lesson…and listening to Jefferson.

He had to admit that his own education was growing considerably as well, thanks to the boy. He was becoming something of a regular occurrence in his life. He never returned with news of the curse, but at least he never came back from an excursion empty-handed either. He often brought him strange and interesting items from other realms that he visited. Useless to him or not, money was never a concern, so he bought them from him just to hear the stories and absorb as much information as he could about these other places. Some of them had such strange customs and items.

"Stethoscope…" Jefferson explained as he sat upon the table, allowing him to examine the odd object in his hands now. "Pinched it from the Doc when he wasn't looking in the Land Without Color."

"A doctor, you say…"

"Yeah, about the only interesting part of that world if you ask me. He's trying to resurrect the dead. But I don't go there often; it's difficult to blend in during the daylight."

"And why might that be?"

"Well, I didn't name it the Land Without Color for its rainbows," he retorted from his place on top of the table. "It's without color…black, and white, and gray all over, and I'm…well, not without color."

"Yes, yes, I see, you needn't have added that last little bit," he growled as he paid him for the object.

On and on, he could talk about realms far from this singular one he lived in. Realms without end it sometimes seemed, though he did promise him that there was an end, an edge. One realm in particular, where time stood still and the sun hung in the sky in eternal sunset.

"Or maybe it's sunrise? Ah well, I don't like to go there either really so it doesn't really matter," he commented. "It's bad for my health! Time moves differently in all these realms and there especially it's incredibly fast. I spent a week there once, laying low after stealing a ruby from Agraba, I was really after some scissors, but it was a nice consolation prize. Anyway, when I went back to try and sell the thing they nearly killed me again, it was still the night I'd stolen it!"

"How curious…" he muttered absent-mindedly. On and on, Jefferson could talk about realms when he wanted him to and when he didn't want to. He was attempting to test the potion he was working on while Regina was out touring the Kingdom with her new family, and Jefferson was chattering on and on by his side. This was one of those times he really would rather have concentrated than listen. "Tell me, Jefferson, you don't like Wonderland, you don't like The Land Without Color, and you don't like this Edge of Realms…where do you prefer to go?"

Jefferson stared at him blankly for a moment, then shrugged his shoulders. "Oz isn't bad. And the Land of Untold Stories is pretty interesting, not to mention all it requires is a key and not my hat to get there. London is quite profitable too. To be honest, I like anywhere I can make money easily!"

Cities of emerald, Wonderland, and at least three different realms that each had a very different copy of a city called "London", where magic was different in each one; he'd never admit it, but sometimes thinking about the realms made him dizzy. It was all fascinating, truly it was. He welcomed the information. What wasn't always welcomed was Jefferson's long stays at the castle between trips. He wasn't sure how the boy had gotten the invitation to stay at his castle like he was some kind of teenager who didn't want to go home to his parents, but he knew that he was growing accustomed to being at work and seeing Jefferson sudden appear seemingly out of nowhere and haunt the halls of his castle before he suddenly disappeared just as mysteriously as he'd arrived.

In truth his yammering was only a problem for his sanity. The boy did seem to recognize some boundaries, though he did have a habit of testing his luck.

"Any sign of my curse?"

"Nothing on that," he sighed, sounding disappointed himself. "I ask everywhere I go, but mostly all I get for it is blank stares. If you had more information…"

"If I had more information, I wouldn't need to send you out looking to and fro now, would I?"

"Just a suggestion. It's not like looking for curses is in my typical wheelhouse. I usually specialize in rare items that glitter and make me money. But I'll keep looking. Never know what you might find out there. Last week I actually discovered a world where pigs fly. If that's possible, anything is!"

As Jefferson muttered his last word his head snapped up. Someone had just come onto the castle grounds. Two souls, one human and the other...at the speed the individual was approaching it must have been a horse. The Seer said nothing about the unexpected visit. It was probably a nobody coming to make a deal. He hoped they were more interesting than Jefferson, or at the very least less annoying. They'd be to the door any second now.

"Wait here and stay out of sight!" he snapped at the boy when he finally heard the knock on the door. With a wave of his hand, the objects he had on the table in the great room vanished back up to his workstation.

"What you think I'm not used to the rules of your business by now?!" Jefferson hollered after him as he left the room. He didn't panic. Annoying as he was, Jefferson was a smart man and knew better than to stay around when he wasn't wanted. When he returned to the room with his "business", as Jefferson had called it, he knew the boy would be gone from sight. Or else he'd find someone else to work that hat for him.

[namjoonchronicles]

1, 22 & 14 !! namjoon :)

1. “Come over here and make me.” + 22. “I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I don’t notice.” + 14. “Hey, I’m with you, okay? Always.” I’m so sorry it took so long, I wasn’t feeling very well, and I know it’s not an excuse, so I hope you’ll like this *crosses finger*It’s slightly long~ so I might repost it as an actual fic with a title later.

“You’re fired, get out,” he massages his temples with his fore finger and thumb resting just underneath his cheekbone. The aura in the room shifts immediately. Swallowing a thick gulp, you begin to blink rapidly as you try to process the words that came out of his mouth so tactlessly, so dry and so immaculate. It sounded so foreign despite it came to you before so frequently as a nightmare that jolts you awake before your alarm manages to ring. It felt surreal.

Blood drained out of your face, warmth stripped away from your fingertips, as you began to realize the weight of being unemployed in this economy is simply a step away from being homeless. But still, you couldn’t let your pride dissipate into thin air and you bring your chin up, holding your breathe and peer at him from your nostril, to let out a shaky but stern, “Thank you.” Passive aggressiveness at best, you shrug your shoulders from the weight it has been carrying and the pressure that you’ve been keeping inside you, released. 

You twisted the knob of his studio open and leave, understanding that you’ve done your ultimate best and still he, sees you as an incompetent, inexperienced and emotionally impulsive worker. He’s courteous enough to let you on this long, and you’ll never forget all the things he had taught you. It was a simple mistake. All you had to do was play the correct version of the song during the concert and you were sure that the track was there and labelled, twice! The fact that the shorter and non-extended version was played, was beyond you. Either someone was out to sabotage your work, or you’ve been spacing out again. Must be the latter, because why else are you getting fired, right? You always blame yourself, and obviously, you’re going to beat yourself for it. 

Two days had passed, you nailed a part-time job at a nearby coffee shop. The irony. You used to be their customer and memorized Namjoon’s preferred coffee by heart and now you’re working there. It was a slash to your pride and ego, and as a staff at Namjoon’s record production office. It was also a slap in the face, for the reality of life aren’t always great. Namjoon probably got himself a new assistant while you were brewing coffee. 

—–

Namjoon sat in his office long after the office hours ended. Surely, the way he saved the performance was effortless, but the set list is ruined. There’s nothing more he hates than to have a well-sought after plan, damaged in a way that it is irreparable. 

And he had to fire one of his close staff because of the incompetence. Finding the constricting air in his office, no longer bearable, he leaves it and seek refuge underneath the stars on the rooftop with a bitter cup of bitter coffee, that leaves a peculiar aftertaste, particularly tonight. He hung his head low, holding himself against the handrail, letting out a long sigh. “Must you go to that extent…” he questioned his own integrity. Or was he blinded by the affection he has on you. Was he afraid that he would no longer able to keep his work ethics because of the feelings he hid from you? Was he afraid of the things you’d see? Did you get too close for him to banish you at any chance he gets?

Whatever it was, Namjoon rationalize himself, you may be just an assistant to him, but this was your full-time job. And he could have let you off with a  warning instead of firing you out of fear that you might find out that he had a crush on you.

“Mr. Kim?” A small voice called for him by the door and Namjoon turns around to see a younger trainee in his office whom he met maybe two months ago, at a recruitment event. 

“Who…?” Namjoon drawled, arching an eyebrow.

“I-I’m a trainee under internship under your assistant’s supervision,” he stammered, “I heard you fired her because of a wrong track played on the concert, sir, I just want to tell you that it wasn’t her fault, it was mine…” 

Namjoon fully face this boy now, pretty tall for his age, squaring shoulders. 

“I misheard the instructions and switched the track, I meant no harm to anyone sir, and–”

“–Stop,” Namjoon held his palm outward and returned to watch the sky, “Just go.”

The trainee heard that well and followed the instruction. Namjoon however, still had some issues hanging over his head. Was he really pissed off because of merely a wrong track played? Or was it because of the boldness you’ve showed him days before? And the week before that? Or the past months? You questioned his collaborating choices, and talked to one of the clients you had helped reached but Namjoon had cancelled at the last minute?

Last week,

“You are inconsiderate, tactless and selfish,” you stormed at him, leaving the others that surrounded him to squander away in fear as Namjoon stood on, dug his tongue against his cheek, grabbed the door to his studio open and waited for you to come in.

“As you were saying?” he crossed his arms leaning behind the closed door.

“You cancelled the collaboration with IRON because you’ve gotten better collab with the western artist. You leave him in a ditch because he’s a direct string to the past you’re trying to escape. You are a coward, indecisive and profit-driven prick.”

He hollowed his cheek, nodding a little bit at the insults you threw at him, and he cocked an eyebrow at you, “I am the producer here, not you. Every music I make is under my jurisdiction and it has nothing to do with you. Like it or not, I’m not doing it with him. He has a baggage to carry, and I know him longer than you do. So if you’re done with your insults, you’re free to go. I have work to do.” Namjoon moves toward his work desk and begin clicking things on the desktop noisily, crouching over his leather chair.

“You made me look for him, and I gave him promises that the collaboration is going to happen soon, now you want me to tell him that it’s cancelled after he sends 25 samples? Do you know that he’s living under a bridge right now? Literally?” You stare at his back, bent forward spine. Face out of view. 

“That’s the problem with you. You’re overwhelmed with sympathy and emotional investments, you think with your heart and implore those in your occupation, that’s why you’re what you are. An assistant.” His eyes wildly search for files in folders, mouse underneath his palm glides.

He should know how his words stings. But he relentlessly continue, “You think I would have gotten this far if I think like you? So make him stop calling my cell because I have a flight to catch.” He hung his jaw.

The way you leave his room was slightly different that day, because before you walked out, he felt you pausing by the door but decided to be the bigger person and left him alone. 

—–

When you greeted this last customer of the night, you were embarrassingly unprepared. Not only has he come with a long look on his face, you know the expression he has after hours of thinking and contemplating over a track and lyrics he is going over with; he came with something else you didn’t think he has: guilt. 

“Welcome, to CocoMoco, may I take your order, sir?” you beamed and did your best even though there’s no other customer around to belittle you if you were to treat him differently.

Namjoon presses his lips and dart his gaze to the sides, ceiling, floor, every where so he doesn’t have to look at you in the eye and risk spilling everything he is feeling. His index fingers tapping and drawing random circles on the tip of his cloth as he wandered his eyes to every furnishing the cafe had, asking in a small voice, “Do you have time to talk?”

“We don’t have that on the menu,” you blinked at the cash register, doing the necessary check on each money received today.

“Is it fun working here?” He pulled out a chair but chose to stand behind them instead of sitting. Fear?  You gave him your back as you rolled your eyes, wiping mugs. You set them down and gave him a soul-snatching glare. So his eyes fidgets, side-to-side, uneasily as he slowly started to reveal why he was here, ten minutes before you close. 

“Come to think of it, I was a little dramatic…” he blinks, staggering in his stance as he admits his fault, “Even though you were empathetic, I didn’t think you would be stupid enough to admit a mistake that wasn’t even yours,” he gather up whatever strength he has, and looked at you in the eye as he declares, “I fired you without properly looking into the matter, I apologize.”

You could almost feel pity for him having to come here, but there’s just something about the way Namjoon treated you as a staff that makes you grow colder and colder as the years passed. And today was no different. He has make you bitter to the core and you resented him to no end. “It seems almost to me that you’re trying to find excuses to fire me at any chance you get,” you crossed your arm, chin up, getting bold because you no longer beneath him, you’re equals. As a human.

“Do you hate me that much?” you knitted your eyebrow, “Have I done something to you that make you feel like it’s okay to nitpick on everything I do for you, to you, and with you? Our ways are different but you continue to be rather harsh with me… so why are you here?”

“I want you back…Need,” he corrected himself with a shake of his head, “Need you back.”

“Is a 5 feet 4 and above girls, unavailable?” you smiled as you circled your way around to collect used mugs from tables, “I read the comment you wrote on my resume. You couldn’t find something you hate about my educations so you attacked my physiques…” 

Namjoon blinked in confusion because he didn’t remember doing those until he realized, he didn’t remember because it was almost 6 years ago. 

The mugs are placed in the tray while Namjoon followed you around like a lost puppy, “I was stupid back then, I didn’t know any better.”

Your head whipped to the side and he stops in his track, “So you say sorry and everything goes back to how it was?” 

“N-no…” he sounds so small. 

“I’ll gather my resources and get you a 5 feet four or taller girl that resembles your high school lover so could get your morning coffee and she could do all the dirty job for you like I did… Give me like a week.”

“But I don’t want them… Can you, can you listen to me?”

“I’ve been listening to you for 6 years.”

“I just… I fired you because I was scared that I’m falling for you and couldn’t stay professional.”

“Lame excuse. I know you long enough to know that you would manipulate feelings so the situation is in your favor.”

“Will you not talk about work, for once? I’m talking to you as a person who has feelings.”

“Come over here and make me,” you set the trays down and challenged him because you were certain that he was lying. But he charges forward, cupped your face and pressed his lips on yours. So, so heavenly soft. Feels like floating. Flying, slicing through the clouds. Wait. He’s Namjoon. You freed yourself and stumbled back. Your lips was tingling for more and your eyes widens while he stiffens, unsure what to do. This doesn’t happen in romantic movies, often.

“Did you… Did I. You don’t like that?” He scratched the back of his neck and took several steps back.

“I thought I was seeing things,” you gulped, hand on your hip, another covering upper half of your face, “I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I don’t notice, but I didn’t think too much of it… I didn’t know, oh fuck…” your hands fall to each side.

“Please don’t kill me,” Namjoon squeaked, “I didn’t know what to do. Don’t sue me. Or sue me, and I’ll gladly compensate you with monthly salary so you don’t have to work here anymore…if you don’t want to see me again, I just need you back at the office, I tried scheduling myself today and nearly booked myself two tickets to Seoul whilst staying in Seoul, I just–I can’t function without you and I think I may have acted out of jealousy, because you seemed so close with the new producers, and I’m not thinking straight.”

“If you don’t shut up, I’m going to kill you for real,” you groaned. 

“Okay.” Namjoon lowered his head.

“You are shit at giving confessions,” you added.

“I deserve that. I was hoping you could teach me how to be more, compassionate.”

“I will teach you nothing, but hear this. If I take this job back, I want a double pay, I will not be handling the shit you cowardly avoided, you do that yourself,” you paused, “and I want date nights. Lots of them. As frequently as we both can. While keeping it a secret.”

Namjoon lifts his head. Eyes twinkling. 

“And should you go through any hardship, I must be included,” you stated, “And you have a lot of nursing to do with my damaged soul. I practically can’t feel emotions after six years underneath your tyrant leadership.” Namjoon trudges forward and opened his arms for you. When you awkwardly rest your head on his chest, he pats your hair lightly, “Hey, I’m with you, okay? Always.”

You couldn’t shake the uneasiness in your heart as he said those words. You have trust issues because of his passive aggressive ways of handling things, but you’re excited on how thing will unfold after tonight. To witness and enjoy Namjoon’s other more vulnerable and adorable side. Apart from being a boss.

[neqeyam]

Forgotten Myth; Chapter two.

Words- 2967

Warnings- height/falling, fighting, arguing, mentions Lee’s death

Summary-  When fourteen year old Ruby Moore is chased down the hallway at school by a character out of one of her fever dreams, she gets thrown into a world of tales and myths that society has ruled out to be fake. Befriending a Pegasus that hates everyone, and gathering friends strong enough to be considered a small army, she has to embark on a journey that will change her life forever.

POV- Ruby

Chapter One- https://rqmcuwdwpjo.tumblr.com/post/188285543834/forgotten-myth-chapter-one

Will took me around the camp, Camp Half-Blood according to his shirt. Showing me everything from a strawberry field to the infirmary. He told me stories of our dad, about how Apollo got banished to be a mortal a while ago and since he’s back being a god he now has a new sense of identity. He took me to the archery range, where I impressed him with my archery skills even though I was new. I didn’t have the heart to tell him that I took archery lessons from age six to age ten. 

By the end of the educational tour, I was exhausted. I felt like I’d just ran a million miles, but he didn’t stop there. He took me to the only building in a rectangle of twenty other oddly specific buildings that literally was glowing gold in the setting sun. Inside there were about ten bunks, all pushed to the outside edges of the building so that there was room in the middle for three cots. 

“Please tell me I don’t have to sleep in one of those.” I whined, pointing at one of the cots. Will made a face as if to say: I hope you like back problems. I almost started complaining but he laughed and placed a hand on my shoulder to keep from toppling over. 

“Those are medical cots silly. But anyways, welcome to cabin seven; where children of Apollo learn the trades of our father.” I looked around and took in the scene. Books on various topics lined the many bookshelves in between the bunks, medical supplies spilled out of bags while syringes soaked in a yellowish-brown liquid. One thing that stuck out to me the most, was the fact that everywhere I looked, some sort of archery target hung from the walls with very distinct holes in the bulls-eye. Will rummaged around under one of the bunks that looked abandoned and pulled out a box. When he opened it, a faint light filtered out as if they’d trapped it in there. 

“This was Lee Fletcher’s bow. If you want it, it’s all yours,” Will said, sadness drifting through his voice. I was tempted to ask what happened to Lee, but something about Will’s posture and aura told me that I’d better just accept the bow. 

“It looks perfect, thank you,” he handed me the bow, and I had to admit; it was perfect. The nocking point seemed to be in a direct line to my shoulder, the bow string wasn’t too taut, I felt like this bow had been crafted just for me. As I was holding it, I realized that the bow itself was actually glowing; not blindingly, just enough for me to see a faint halo of light outlining the bow. 

Once Will had enough of reminiscing about Lee’s bow, we went back outside. A horn blew in the distance, scaring me so badly I screamed and hid behind Will (Not my best moment I’ll admit). 

“That’s the dinner horn, nothing to be afraid of-” he said, a dark figure appeared out of seemingly nowhere cut him off. 

“eccoti, ti ho cercato dappertutto,” the dark haired kid said. 

“Nico, for the last time, I don’t speak fluent Italian.” 

“Ciao, chi sei,” they all turned to me as if I just grew another head. Though the black haired kid looked more grateful than confused. 

“Puoi parlare italiano?” the black haired kid -who Will called Nico- asked. 

“no, perché dovrei?” I asked. Will’s face flushed red, but he looked rather pissed. 

“Would you two stop that! Ruby you’re speaking Italian!” He yelled, taking both of us by surprise. I looked down at my hands as if they’d give me answers; but no avail. I was thinking in another language too, symbols rather than english letters were flying around my head. I realized the same symbols were almost everywhere around camp, telling me where to go. For a moment, I completely forgot english and my whole sense of identity blurred. Will set a hand on my shoulder, drawing my attention from my hands. 

“pós boró na milíso angliká?” I asked frantically. Nico handed me the book he was reading, thankfully it was in english and the other two languages seemed to go back to their hiding places. My mind went back to thinking in my first language; I handed the book back to Nico and huffed, “Thank you,” he nodded and started up the hill.

Dinner was cool, I could order whatever I wanted and however much I wanted. My plate just seemed to refill itself, the Greeks really knew how to eat. Mr. D (Will told me his real name is Dionysus, the wine dude) stood and banged a knife against his goblet of diet coke. When he had everyone’s attention, he turned to Chiron. (yes, the Chiron from the ancient times.) 

“You all know what today is, the first Friday of the month. Which means-” he was cut off by the Ares table pounding their silverware on the table, chanting CTF; whatever that meant. The rest of the cabins joined in their chants till it was just a rumble of voices and an earthquake of silverware pounding. A stocky girl with dirty blonde, almost brown hair stood up and thrust her spear into the air. 

“We’re on her team this month. If we win, I get the Apollo chariot back that she stole from us while Michael Yew was our senior counselor.” Will spat, he didn’t sound happy about being on her team. 

“Then I guess we have to win.” I stated. I’ve always been competitive, and now I finally know how I’m so good at basketball. Will grinned at me, his eyes alight with an emotion I couldn’t place. 

After dinner, and after Chiron was finally able to explain the rules; Will led cabin seven through the hoard of people and into the woods. Everyone seemed to know their place, some went up into trees, scaling them like squirrels. Others turned invisible and the only hint that they were still there was a rustling in the bushes. Will led me to a pile of rocks that looked like a thumb, a blood red flag shone brightly in the setting sun. he scaled a tree next to the pile of rocks, something told me to do the same. I climbed a tree with surprising ease a few yards away from the flag so I’d have a clear view of who was coming through. Two kids that wore the same mischievous grins that Ayla defaulted to walked through the clearing. Behind them, enough teenagers to be considered a small army without the multitude of weapons came walking into the clearing. The girl, who Will told me was Clarrise, barked orders at people. 

“You excited?” someone asked behind me. My instincts pulled an arrow out and notched it all while turning around. I was met with a smug smile that I was so used to. Then I checked my pockets. 

“More nervous than anything, your dad is Hermes isn’t it.” I asked Ayla. It hadn’t occurred to me that she looked exactly like him -based on a description from a book I found- She nodded and perched in the tree next to me. I looked over to where Will was perched to see him lazily going in and out of being visible. He flickered sometimes, like he got stuck halfway through his change. 

“You and I are gonna charge the flag. According to Connor, they’ve got the entirety of Demeter’s children on guard duty, with Hecate’s scattered throughout the woods.” I nodded along with her, we’d need a plan to get through Hecate’s children’s magic. A bunch of grease covered kids walked into the clearing, -probably Hephaestus’s kids- and Ayla let out an audible sigh. I followed her gaze to a semi scrawny kid who would not stop moving -his dark curly hair and tanned skin gave him away as hispanic- talking to an equally dark skinned girl.

Clarrise held a thumbs up to the sky and then a few moments later a horn sounded. Our ranks bolted into the woods, and the Hephaestus kids started waving Wii remotes around really quickly. 

Yells and screams erupted from the woods, and a few kids watched everything through a shield looking thing. The first wave of kids were all blonde except for the black haired kid from earlier (Will told me that he’s the son of Poseidon, Perry Jackson, or something like that). Ayla drew her daggers and charged from her spot in the tree. Will and I rained arrows down on whoever got too close to the flag (Although, most of my arrows missed). A water spout rocketed toward me, but I jumped and fired one of the rope arrows into another tree, swinging across the battlefield kicking anyone that got too close. Light beams burned kids slightly when they started their assault on the flag. We were being overrun by kids. Another kid with blond hair came running through the mess and I thought it might be Will, but then I started to feel sleepy. 

“It’s Clovis’s magic!” someone yelled. I took a closer look at the blond haired kid and I realized that he was sleeping. Our defenses were dropping like flies, snores started the echo through the woods. They seemed to be protecting him, drawing a crescent moon around him. Next to me Ayla sleepily fluttered down onto the branch and closed her eyes, a good sized rock almost fell out of her hand. I knew what she wanted me to do. 

“C’mon Apollo, gimme one luck shot,” I murmured and wound up. The rock left my hand at an upward angle, then arced down; smacking Clovis right in the temple, he fell like a load of bricks. Some of his defenses tried to wake him up but he didn’t. Our defense team woke up one by one, recharged and ready to go they fought harder than before. 

My vision blurred and I saw a figure running for our flag, but I couldn’t see her. I sensed her. When my vision returned I saw someone grabbing at our flag, it rose and started down the hill. Almost all of the offensive troops had retreated. 

“Team Ares!” I yelled, gathering everyone's attention. “Stop our flag,” they followed my finger and watched as Annabeth emerged from nothing and set down the flag. A wave the size of a small house flung half our troops out of the way, then the dark haired kid (Perry? Percy? One of the two  I can’t remember what Will said) started fighting his way through the mess of kids. Ayla grabbed my hand and the next thing I knew we were zooming through the woods at top speed. She smacked into an invisible shield of some sort and crumpled to the ground with a groan. A few snickers from the other side brought my attention to a bunch of Demeter and Hecate children. Clarrise growled a few feet away from me and stabbed at the shield, getting thrown back. Ayla and I exchanged glances, something told me she wanted to go up. So we did. 

The shield was definitely not as strong on the top as it was near the bottom. The only problem was that we were suspended fifty feet up in the air by some jello. Ayla pried a hole in the top and I shot four arrows down. Unbeknownst to me, they were all sonic arrows. Each arrow sounded like it was on eight amplifiers and a surround sound speaker. Good news, it was enough to blast out the shield and disoriant their first line of defenses; bad news, Ayla and I were now falling fifty feet to our deaths. Someone caught me, I was met with brown eyes that screamed anger. He set me down and kept running, as Ayla lowered herself down next to me. Together, the three of us ran at the Aphrodite children. I stayed back a little bit and shot anyone out of the trees, while the rest of our offense fought against Aphrodite, Nemesis and what was left of Demeter. 

“Ayla! I have a plan!” I yelled, before I even had a P-L-A. She came running and I told her about what I saw Will doing and how he briefly explained it to me. Another kid came with her, however; it was the brown eyed Ares kid that caught me. 

“You’re going to need a brute for that,” he grumbled, trying harder than necessary to sound mean. I didn’t have time to argue so I just grabbed their arms and ran, praying to Apollo that this worked. 

The fact that no one tried to stop us told me that it worked. We ran and dodged roots that were constantly growing. When we came to a clearing where a stream ran through, I slowed down. In front of us stood their flag, and a multitude of traps. Ayla groaned at the sight of the traps but I told her to just fly over everything. A blond kid that looked to be about my age paced in front of the first trap, folding over a knife in his hand. He grumbled about something, we didn’t stick around long enough to hear what he was saying. Ayla flew us over everything, groaning and complaining everytime one of us moved the wrong way. The brown eyed kid, -who refused to tell me his name- grabbed the flag and bolted for Ayla and I. An alarm sounded in the trees and two more cabins came running into the clearing. 

“Great, now what,” brown eyed boy grumbled. I hadn’t thought this far but I had the beginnings of something that would either be super cool, or the biggest failure in the history of camp. I pulled out my last arrow, it was a rope arrow. Thank Apollo, I thought. Without saying a word I shot it at an angle at Ayla; the arrow wrapped itself around her waist, almost pulling her out of the sky. Brown eyed kid seemed to be following my train of thought because he ran towards the closest kids near us and grabbed their shields. He threw one at me and stuffed the other under his foot. I stopped the shield with my foot, and gripped my bow better. 

“AYLA, FLY!” I screamed and she took off. The brown eyed kid grabbed onto the rope with his other hand and held the flag under his arm. 

We sped through the woods on shields, Ayla was going so fast that almost nothing could touch us. I’m sure we looked like a more badass version of the Three Stooges. She started laughing maniacally over the wind and we jumped a hill. Annabeth and the black haired kid (I’m pretty sure his name is Percy) were running back with our flag, thankfully they hadn’t made it back to their side yet. They ducked under us and gawked. Cheers erupted from the tree line where Ayla’s half brothers and sisters were gathering along with the Hephaestus kids. We were almost across when a wave knocked Ayla out of the sky, she hit the ground like a ton of bricks. 

“Connor! Go long!” he yelled and threw the flag like a spear. One of Ayla’s brothers broke off from the crowd and flew to meet the flag, pulling it over the line; the crowd cheered and lifted him up on their shoulders. With Ayla’s momentum and no one to steer, brown eyed kid and I rammed right into a tree. He turned around right before we hit and grabbed me, his back smacked into the tree hard, and my head smacked into his armor. We both crumpled to the ground, groaning. Will was already working on Ayla who had hit her head on a rock. A few of my other siblings ran over to brown eyed kid and I, healing us with no problem. I stood up and stuck out my hand to help him up, he took it gingerly. 

“That was quite the plan, Ruby,” he said and took off his helmet. For a moment I was overtaken with confusion but then I realized who he was. 

“You- you told Mrs. Johansson that I FAKED A PASS!” I yelled, poking a finger at his chest. Jackson Ryans stuck his hands in the air in surrender, though the grin on his face told me he was just getting started. 

“It was all part of the plan.”

“What plan?!” I demanded, only now realizing that he was a solid three inches taller than me. 

“To get you here of course, we needed an actual reason to get you here or else you wouldn’t believe us and someone kept telling the monsters off your scent,” he explained as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. That didn’t help the fact that I got a detention out of it and was benched for two basketball games. 

“He’s right, we did need a reason and Jackson volunteered to tattle on you,” Chiron said as he helped Ayla up off the ground. She brushed herself off quickly and thanked Will, who went to work on the others that were lying around groaning. 

“I was benched for two games because of him!” 

“Yeah, sorry about that one. That definitely wasn’t part of the plan,” Jackson said, scratching the back of his neck, still grinning. I wanted to smack him but Ayla led me away before I could, throwing me into a celebration that resulted in me, Ayla, Connor and Jackson on various peoples shoulders. Ayla and Connor start playing chicken, with two of the stockier Hephaestus kids. Slowly I realized that I was on an Ares kids shoulders, he was taking me toward their chicken game. Ayla punched me in the arm and Connor shoved my shoulder. 

“Hey! No tag teaming!” I laughed, shoving them back. Jackson came over and shoved them with me, together we pushed Ayla off the Hephaestus kids shoulders and then went to work on Connor. He gave up and flew off the kids shoulders. Jackson held his arms out for a hug, I was reluctant but it’s kinda hard to dismiss a hug that you’re forced into. Jackson’s brother moved so that he could pull me into him. 

“Okay okay, I forgive you… I guess,” I said so he’d let go of me. Did I actually forgive him? Not really; but something told me I’d have to or else this camp would be absolute hell.

[lunarlooroo]

I loved all of your 🔥🔥🔥prompts where Heather and Severus where going at each other heh. I have a traditional crack!fic request: the ministry mandates that sex ed be taught at Hogwarts. Unfortunately, this year Snape and his assistant are in charge of addressing the whole student body en masse. It ends up being an uncomfortable experience for most, a hilarious one for some, but also an interesting one for Heather ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

DAY TWO OF TWELVE DAYS OF FICMAS!

Probably not as raunchy as what you had in mind. Also, I did the bare minimum amount of research into this topic, so don’t hold it against me if there are any glaring inaccuracies.

“Come, Heather. We are due to give the lecture on sexuality education this year.” Severus walked past her, scowling up a storm.

Blinking, she hastened her footsteps to catch up with him. “Wait, what? What do you mean?”

“Are you not aware of the most recent demand from the Ministry?”

She frowned. “I think I heard something about it, but I thought Poppy would be in charge or something!”

“Well, last week the Sorting Hat decreed that the responsibility would be foisted onto me. Otherwise, I would never be involved in such a troublesome matter,” he said in distaste.

Well, that really put a new perspective on ‘picking a name from a hat’.

“Okay, but what does that have to do with me?” She raised an eyebrow. “The hat didn’t call my name, now did it?”

Severus stopped and turned to face her with a smug expression. “Indeed. However, as my apprentice, you are obliged to carry out tasks that I set aside for you. Trying to impart such delicate information to immature cretins is something I refuse to do alone.”

Sighing, she nodded in resignation. “Okay, but why am I only hearing about this now? Wouldn’t it have been better if we’d done some sort of preparation?”

“What is there to prepare?” he asked dryly, “Ah, good they are here.”

Heather walked through the door after him and almost froze in shock. What seemed like the entire population of students, from the first to seventh years, were seated in the room, which had probably been expanded for this very purpose.

She caught Severus’ arm and pulled him closer. “The lecture isn’t for all the students, is it?” she hissed, “That’s just preposterous! What we’d need to teach 11-year-olds and 17-year-olds are totally different!

Severus sneered, crossing his arms. “Blame the sodding Ministry. This was not my idea at all. Fortunately, in future years we will only need to give the talk to the first years.”

Heather didn’t know how they were going to pull this off, let alone next year’s.

“Attention!” Severus said, not even bothering with a Sonorus. The whole room quietened, knowing better than to cross their Potions Master. “As you are no doubt aware, this lecture is focussed on sexuality education.” A few snickers sounded. Severus glared around, cowing everyone into silence.

“Make no mistake. This is not sexeducation orsexualeducation. Surely even you lot can fumble through that yourselves without me to hold your hand through it.”

Heather had to stifle a laugh at the innuendo, knowing Severus must have said it on purpose, despite his straight face. She could see a few students half-disturbed and half-amused by their strictest Professor saying anything even remotelysuggestive.

“We will begin with basic anatomy.” Severus produced a large scientific diagram with both the male and female human body, parts annotated clearly. He ignored the sudden chatter for about a minute, before shushing them all.

“We will begin with the male body. Pre-puberty, the testicles are less than 4 millilitres in volume.” The image of the testicles on the diagram lit up. “Puberty is the period in an adolescent’s life when they undergo changes to their body for sexual maturation. Theoretically, after puberty the person is a fully mature adult. Of course, I know this is rarely the case.” He stared pointedly at the seventh and sixth years, who fidgeted in their seats.

“In males, puberty begins with the enlargement of the testicles, typically beyond 4 millilitres. They experience an increase in height and muscle mass. Some pubic hair will grow around the groin. Thereafter, their penises grow in length and their voice breaks and begins to deepen. They begin to grow facial and axillary hair.”

As Severus described the changes that occur through puberty, the diagram changed as well. Up until the picture of the boy became a man.

He then went on to describe the development of females in a similar manner. Though Heather noticed the girls looked a tad discomfited at having a male teacher teach them this.

She was rather impressed that Severus knew that much about this subject, though. She probably wouldn’t have been able to give this much detail, and so clinically, too.

“If you have any questions thus far, you may direct them to Miss Potter.”

Surprised at being called, she straightened to attention. She placed an encouraging smile on her face, stepping forward to receive questions.

A few hands were raised, mostly from boys. There were a few girls that she saw seemed to want to ask something, but were too shy to.

“What does axillary mean?” a third year Gryffindor asked.

Heather gave Severus a look, wordlessly suggesting that he stay away from scientific jargon for the remainder of his lecture. “It is the scientific name for the armpit region. Next?”

Most of the questions were simple and easy to explain. Eventually, she managed to get the shyer kids to speak up as well. The older students, on the other hand, were beginning to fall asleep.

Severus then moved on to explain the mechanics of intercourse and reproduction, speaking so dryly that not even the most rambunctious of students were able to make any dirty jokes.

In fact, some of them were looking rather disturbed by how boring Severus was able to make sex sound.

“Poor Miss Potter. The bat can’t be very satisfying in bed if this is how he’s like. I bet his idea of foreplay is reading a Potions journal.”

Because she was closer to students, she was able to hear the snide whisper from one of the sixth years. Though she didn’t put it past Severus go have heard it anyway. He had ears as sharp as, well, a bat.

Far from being offended, Heather was beyond amused. She certainly had no complaints about her lover’s prowess in bed, not that it was any business of her students’.

She didn’t if know what people said about men with big noses was correct, since a single anecdotal case wasn’t exactly robust evidence, but suffice to say these boys were reallyoff the mark.

Shaking her head, she banished the train of thought from her mind. A classroom was hardly an appropriate place to be thinking of such things.

“We will now be covering our last main topic. Menstruation. Sometimes referred to as monthly bleeding or periods. You will find, of course, that not every person’s menstrual cycle is the common 28 days. Each person’s body varies, so naturally no two cycles are exactly the same.”

A group of boys began making a ruckus. One foolhardy one amongst them stood up with a defiant tilt to his chin. “Why do we have to sit here and listen to this? It’s gross, girly stuff! Sir.”

The female yearmates sitting around the group all pinned their collective ire on them. Heather foresaw that these idiots wouldn’t be enjoying the next few months. It was when she saw some younger girls hunch in on themselves, ashamed, that she wanted to throttle the boys herself though. Puberty was difficult enough without ignorant people making them feel embarrassed about their own bodies.

Severus got to them before she could.

“Farley,” Severus intoned lowly. The single word was enough to make the boy pale and look regretful of his decision to speak. “Tell me, do you have a mother, sisters, aunts, any females close to you?”

The boy, Dorian Farley, looked back to his friends for help, but none of them dared to meet his eyes. Heather resisted the urge to scoff. Typical.

“Answer the question!”

Farley jumped, visibly gulping. “Y-yes, sir.”

She nodded to herself. The boy was a middle child, with two sisters. One of whom had been in the same year as Rian and the other, a third year sitting right in this very room.

“Tell me then, why you would disparage a natural process that occurs in most women, a process, I might add, that was crucial to your very existence? Any reason other than pure ignorance and selfishness, of course.”

His younger sister, Bella Farley, was glaring daggers across the room at him, eyes promising some sort of retribution. The girl was a spitfire, Heather knew.

“Well, don’t keep us all waiting, Farley. Surely you have a good reason to dismiss this heavy burden placed on women everywhere by nature. Perhaps you do not deem it necessary to learn more because you do not respect the hardship they have to face on a regular basis and you have no intention of doing what you can to ease the struggle?”

A few moments passed before Farley realized that Severus really wouldwait for his answer before continuing. The combined stares of everyone in the room might have done the trick as well.

“N-nothing, Professor. I don’t have a good reason. Sorry.” His words all but slurred together as he forced them out, face burning red. He sat down hard enough that a ‘thump’ echoed through the room.

Severus continued to Lookat Farley for a moment more, before stating, “Now, as I was saying…”

No one made a peep during the rest of the lecture, especially not the boys.

By the end of it all, Severus was on the receiving end of multiple starry-eyed gazes, not the least of which was her own. He had made himself something of a hero, with his passionate speech. On the menstrual cycle, of all things.

He had always been considerate of her during her periods – understanding when she felt a little moodier and not holding it against her, casually handing her a hot bottle charmed to remain at a perfect temperature, even handfeeding her chocolate, on some memorable occasions.

“If any of you have any personal questions that you don’t feel comfortable asking now, please feel free to arrange a meeting with either of us, or submitting a note if that is easier for you.” Heather said, as Severus wrapped up the lesson.

Heather beamed up at Severus as the last student filed out. “You did a wonderful job! I barely even needed to do anything! I don’t know why you insisted I be here.”

Her lover turned his back to her to pack up his diagrams and models, not saying a word.

Pursing her lips, she pondered over his behaviour. A delighted smile took over her face. “You were nervous!”

“Of course not!” he rebutted, too quickly. He faced her with an indignant frown. “I was- concerned, that I would not be able to instruct them properly. I’m not the first person anyonewould go to for matters of such a delicate nature.” He ended his sentence with a deprecating twist to his lips.

She shook her head fondly, going up to wrap her arms around him. “Severus, believe me when I say that you handled that excellently. The only thing I would find fault with is your use of too-complicated language. If you had perhaps dumbed down your words a little, then it would have been perfect.”

“It went better than I expected, I admit.”

“Oh come on, that’s an understatement if I ever heard one. You’ve amassed quite a following amongst the female student,” she said teasingly, “And who could blame them? You were quite thorough in your advocation for menstrual cycle awareness. My gentleman.”

Pink dusted over Severus’ cheeks. “Nonsense.”

Giggling, Heather leaned up to peck his lips. “I’m not joking. And I really am impressed with your lecture. You really got them to take the topic seriously. There were hardly any dirty jokes at all! Well, aside from your own, of course.”

Severus rolled his eyes. “Well, at any rate I’m glad that’s over.”

“Mmh. I’d say you deserve some reprieve after all that. Why don’t we head back to our quarters and just relax.” She lowered her voice to a husky whisper. “Don’t worry, I can do all the work.”

His hands clenched in her robes. “That, Heather, is a fine suggestion indeed.”

[princessesofauradon]

Lana: Isle vs Auradon

a/n yes it is I, Bianca, aka @darlingsteveharrington , back from the dead and ready to write for Descendants again. So I posted these a while back and I have since revamped them and I am so much happier with these. My babies have been reborn!!!! I’m so happy to be writing for them again I missed them so much anywho (also requests anyone?)

also shoutout to @askhaylieooc I saw your ask and I have no clue what happened but it’s not there anymore :( I did see it though and thank you 1000 times over for showing interest in my OC's and inadvertently helping me start writing for them again <3

Lana on the Isle

All through her childhood Lana never once stepped foot on the Isle. She was raised in the Underworld by her father. The closest she ever got to it was her father’s restaurant and even that place was nothing compared to what was outside its walls. Her mother died on the Isle of the Lost and, despite what most people thought about him, Hades was almost overprotective of Lana.

She has on occasion visited Mount Olympus though. It was always when there was a meeting of the Gods. Her father, being the God of the Underworld, was invited to them (albeit a little reluctantly). The Gods were different than the people down on Auradon. Staging a failed coup wasn’t the worst thing one of them had done and so they always greeted Lana with open arms. It was during one of those visits when she met Kellan wandering around the gardens.

That was the first time Lana had had a living friend. A few days later Yen Sid delivered a letter to the restaurant. Kellan had sent it to her from Auradon. They exchanged letters back and forth and Yen Sid soon became her designated messenger, not that he minded much.

Hades was quite possibly the only parent on the Isle who genuinely cared about his kid. He had a temper, for sure. More times than one he banished people’s souls but still, that was tame compared to some of the more…spirited villains. It was part of the reason why Hades had avoided sending her to both Dragon Hall and Serpent Prep. Instead, he sent her to Elysium three times a week to be taught by some of the better ancient philosophers. “C’mon Lana, who doesn’t want to be taught by some dead guy who everyone thinks is so great”

Hades actually tried to talk Lana out of finally heading up to the Isle. “Lana, those people are crazy. Trust me, you don’t want to be around them” “Can’t be any crazier than the ones down here” After a lot of arguing Lana finally convinced him to let her see the Isle. They compromised and he armed her with a dagger that was said to be able to rip the soul straight out of your body.

Lana was a bit of an urban legend around the Isle so there was a lot of talk when she finally left the Underworld. Mal and Jay were the first ones to approach her. “It’d be in your best interest to fall in line with us. I’ll even teach you everything you have to know about his place personally” “Sorry, I don’t fall in line very well”

That day she went to Yen Sid to pick up her letter and that was when she was approached again. “Your Hades’ kid?” “Who’s asking?” “He came to the Chip Shop a few days ago and told us you’d be heading up soon. Recommended we take you under our wing” “Did he? And who might you be?” “Uma”

Uma and her pirate crew adopted Lana almost immediately. They called her ‘the purest thing on the Isle’. Lana hadn’t been exposed to enough of the chaos to become as corrupted as the rest of them and it had made her more than a little naive. She was trained to defend herself by Uma’s best, Harry and Gil.

It wasn’t long before she ran into Evie in the markets. Lana caught her trying to take some fabric from one of the little shops. “You really should get better at that, you know” They talked for hours and eventually somehow ended up in Evie’s castle looking at all her designs. They exchange some scraps they had gotten ahold of and at the end of the night they’ve successfully made each other a new outfit. Lana becomes almost as close with Evie as she was with Uma and the crew.

Lana told Evie about her single encounter with Mal and she laughed. Ultimately she did convince Lana to talk to her one more time to try and fix things. Reluctantly, Lana followed Evie to Mal’s loft and although she didn’t think she was the best, at least they were on speaking terms. Jay she thinks is pretty okay. Besides Evie, Carlos is her favorite.

She watches him tinker with whatever objects he can find. Eventually, she develops a habit of stealing items from the pile of things that had been confiscated from the new souls. She takes whatever she thinks Carlos will like and gives them to him. They have a lot of surprisingly meaningful talks late at night as he’s messing with whatever object she’s brought him.

The more time Lana spent up on the Isle, the more she realized why everybody, didn’t matter where they were from, looked towards Auradon with longing. It was just out of arms reach, taunting them every single day and she too grew tired of it quickly.

Two guards, each with the symbol of the palace, found Lana one day and handed her two letters. She recognized the one from Kellan and opened it immediately. You’re going to love it here, Lana. I convinced Ben to let you come along and I’m already making a list of everything you have to see first. Lana protested going to Auradon all the way back to the Chip Shop.

“There’s no way I’m going off to Auradon while all of you stay here” “You’re going Lana” “No I’m not. Good luck making me” “You can’t just turn down the prince of Auradon” “I can and I will” “No you won’t” “I’m not leaving you all behind. You’re all more deserving of that place than I am” “Then go and you can help get us there next”

It took hours of convincing before Lana agreed to consider going. She went back to the Underworld to talk to her dad about it. She was more than a little surprised by his answer. “Take the chance to leave while they’re giving it to you” “But what about you?” “I’m gonna be fine, Lana. Besides I got Cerberus to keep me company”

Lana watched the Isle disappear from the back window, almost melancholy.

Lana in Auradon

Lana’s foul mood disappeared quickly once she saw Auradon up close for the first time. She stepped out of the limo that was sent to pick them up and immediately more whispers started. Everybody had a good feeling about who she was for two reasons. One, she was obviously not completely human: the children of the Gods were always exceptionally radiant in a way no one could quite put their finger on. Two, Kellan hadn’t stopped talking about her.

Kellan wasted no time in rushing through everybody, running past Ben and Audrey (almost knocking over Fairy Godmother in the process) and practically tackling Lana as he shouted her name repeatedly. The two of them talk animatedly back and forth for a few minutes, not paying any attention at all to what Ben is saying. It’s not until he clears his throat, telling them he’s about to start the tour that they pay him any attention. Kellan literally begs Ben to let him take Lana. “Come on, babe! I promise I’ll bring her to you in one piece later. (Ben agrees, mostly because he is almost incapable of saying no to him)

Lana takes to Auradon immediately. By the end of the day, she’s caught on to plenty of things and talking to dozens of people. She even talked to Chad for a while, whether it was completely civil is up for debate. As promised, Kellan takes Lana to Ben and needless to say she had a lot of things to say to him. Ben had never been so intrigued by somebody the way he was with Lana at that moment.

It doesn’t take very long for Fairy Godmother to realize that Lana is way ahead of the others academically. “Please, the schools on the Isle are a joke. Maybe if you spent more time trying to educate people other than the royal kids we would have genuinely reformed villains kids” Her constant remarks are what land her in Remedial Goodness 101 with Evie, Carlos, Jay, and Mal.

Lana spends a lot of time learning the politics of everything and what the best way to get her friends off the Isle would be. She asks Ben a lot of questions, after all, who better to ask than the future king? More than a few times she’s been found sitting where ever faces the Isle, a guilt-ridden look on her face.

Lana quickly becomes a huge fan of tourney. Kellan drags her to practice one day and she gets probably way too into it. After one practice Kellan offers to show her the ropes and she quickly finds out she’s terrible at it. Nonetheless, she still enjoys watching and a couple Friday nights later she starts getting way too into the games.

After Jay, Carlos, Evie, and Mal get a call with their parents Lana gets one with her dad. They spend a good hour or two talking and only stop when Kellan joins them. “Oh hey Uncle Hades” “Kid, I’m not your uncle” “You kind of are though”

The longer she spends in Auradon, the better Lana gets at hiding how mischievous she really is. She’s able to talk her way out of whatever trouble she gets into. Usually anyway. Ben is the only one she just can’t seem to convince and it drives her insane.

Speaking of, she hates the fact that Mal opted to use a love potion on him. True love is a big concept on Auradon and although Lana didn’t quite believe in it herself it wasn’t fair to be manipulating it. It causes a huge rift in her already rocky friendship with Mal. “Oh come on, your dad is a villain just like our parents. Don’t act like you don’t want what we do” “Of course I do but manipulating somebody into thinking they love you just to use them to do your bidding is terrible on a whole other level!”

She may not agree with Mal’s method but she still takes her side after the whole incident on family day. Lana was easily the one who had fit in on Auradon the fastest and easiest. Her father had been declared a villain and so that made her a villain’s kid, despite people’s opinions that she ‘didn’t count’.

Later that day is the first time Lana’s hair turns to flames. Some snide comments from more than a few people set her off. She starts screaming profanities, her eyes go dark, and her hair turns to blue flames. She ends up being dragged away from the scene by Jay. It takes close to four hours for the flames to die down.

She has to be carefully guarded until everything dies down. It means Kellan gets into a lot of fights that week. At one point it’s the about the twelfth time he’s late to class and Lana has had enough. “What do you think you’re doing?” “I’m defending you” “I can handle myself, thank you very much” “Yeah well it’s been proven that you’re scary when you’re angry so trust me, getting punched by me is the better option”

Evie requests Lana’s help in getting their coronation outfits ready and the two of them have the time of their lives. One conversation leads to another and somehow they decide to create their own label if all goes well.

Lana’s thrown off by the entire coronation. She quickly comes to the realization that she doesn’t like the spotlight. A lot of her time is spent beside her family who all came down just for Ben’s coronation. She spends it mainly with Persephone, who reminds her of a lot of home and her father.

She’s a little bit surprised after the whole fiasco that happened at the coronation. But she can’t deny that the second Maleficent shows up she begins plotting how to get her friends off of the Isle. Her attention is taken, however, by Mal insisting that she wants to change. If she’s honest, she had no idea that was going to happen. But still, she helps defeat Maleficent and watches as everybody comes to again. “What was that?” “That was me taking into account what you said. Turns out you were right, Lana”

Lana and Evie offer to make Adelaide and Eva outfits for some event they both have to go to and they love them. Soon the two of them are getting commissions from most of the girls in school. They send Kellan and Jay on runs to get more materials for them and they quickly establish a system that works near perfectly.

Two months after the coronation Lana starts spending a suspicious amount of time with Ben. Suspicious in the sense that he always seems to be around, whether it’s while she’s hiding in Kellan’s room or running into him in the most random of places.

It works to her advantage eventually. Even as time passes she doesn’t forget about trying to get her friends off of the Isle of the Lost. She has her fair share of arguments with Ben about laws and proclamations and such. “It’s not as simple as you make it seem” “Isn’t it though? I’ve been through countless pages of documents and there’s not much standing in your way. You’re the King of Auradon, Ben!” “You are insufferable you know that?” “Likewise”

There is so much tension between the two of them and everybody starts noticing it. It isn’t until a conversation Lana has with Mal one day that she realizes it herself though. “You know even while under that love spell, which is one of the most powerful, mind you, Ben always found a way to bring you up” “No he didn’t” “Oh I can assure you, he did”

Lana is the most stubborn person and so the next day she very begrudgingly asks Ben if he wants to go to some postseason party Kellan is throwing with her because “everyone says we have tension and I kind of think they’re right so here I am embarrassing myself and I get-” “It took you long enough” They’re officially dating the next morning.

Lana finally draws up a proposal that both Ben and his committee agree on and not even a week later Uma, Harry, Gil, and the rest of the crew are on Auradon. She is so excited and literally will not leave them alone. It’s then that she understands Kellan’s enthusiasm when she first arrived. “Lana that’s the fourth bathroom you’ve shown us, I think we’re okay for now”

Exactly a day later she’s causing trouble with them again and it’s like she never left them. Lana also may or may not have gotten a little emotional. “You said you’d get us here and you did” “How could I possibly leave you guys behind?”

[veryloyalfan]

Soriel Week 2018, Day 1: Queen

There were plenty of times where it was hard to think of Toriel as ever being a queen. When Papyrus was walking away from them in exasperation, and they were on the floor, laughing so hard that there were tears in their eyes, for instance.

Or when she was plunging the kitchen sink drain because it was clogged with white fur.

Or when she worked so hard the whole day, that she just plain passed out on the papers she was grading, and he found her snoring loudly in a puddle of her own drool.

In those moments, she was Tori. The voice behind the door that belonged to a lady as real and gentle and kind and down to earth as she was pretty.

But there were times… however few and far between, where it wasn’t just easier to remember she’d been queen… it was downright impossible to forget. 

As she stood over him, with that disapproving frown and nonsense banishing tap of her foot, Sans decided that this just MIGHT be one of those times. He held out the carton as a peace offering. *heya, tori… heh, “donut” you want to…

“Do NOT try to distract me with puns.”

Wow. Not even a waver or a twinkle in her eyes. Yep, he was really in for it this time. *ok, but just so ya know… you don’t have the “hole” story yet.

He “pun”ctuated the comment with a wink, even as her jaw tensed a little more. She was real imposing, alright, but see, the trouble was, he’d never responded all that well to imposing authority figures. If she’d really wanted him to take this seriously, she should have come to talk to him. This regal, stoic, angry person staring him down wasn’t registering as the same Toriel he’d do just about anything for, even though he knew full well she was in there somewhere, and he hoped she got back soon, because she was a lot more fun.

“Sans.” There was a warning edge of steel in her voice.

He considered relenting. *you boss monsters really do get “steamed” don’tya?

The “you WILL take this seriously” look was only intensifying, and she wasn’t backing down, but, she wasn’t venting out her frustration with him into rage, either, and this WAS Tori, so he supposed he could throw her a bone. He sighed. *alright, so i’m guessin’ yer upset about the kid’s project, huh?

Her nostrils flared, which, should have been terrifying, but, it was just kind of cute. “When you said you were going to help Frisk make a model of the solar system, I assumed that you meant an accurate one.”

He grinned. *so, were ya expecting something too big to fit in the room, or something microscopic?

“You are WELL aware that is NOT what I meant.”

*heh. i’m really not that ‘deep’.

Her narrowing gaze alone was going to singe his hoodie if he didn’t stop, but, honestly, she was kinda cute when she got like this. Nothing wrong with being passionate about something, or wanting to protect it. But it wasn’t really anything to incinerate anyone over, either, and he highly doubted she was actually mad enough to go THAT far. Which was one of the big problems with trying to intimidate someone, really. Even an implied threat that you’re not willing to act on won’t take you far with the wrong person. Asgore had taken years to get the memo. Undyne still hadn’t learned.

It’d never even been a conscious thing he’d done. It was just sort of a natural defense against the ‘do as I want because I’m bigger and stronger than you’ mentality. Just because he couldn’t take a hit didn’t mean he had to “stand” at the mercy of everyone all the time. After all, a lot of battle situations were hit or “miss”.

Again, he thought about reconsidering his approach. After all, this was Toriel. If he was going to cut anyone some slack, it would be her. But the whole, “beware the wrath of those who outrank you” stigma had never made any sense to him.

He honestly expected her too “cool” off, but she was just as stubborn in her refusal to back down from her position as he was.

Made sense, he supposed. Most monsters probably wouldn’t be standing her quietly musing while Tori had “that” face on, and he highly doubted she was even aware she was doing it. It was just kinda amusing to him that it had the opposite effect on someone who’d already try to find a way to give her the world if she asked for it.

“Any accuracy at ALL would have been preferable to… to… that, multicolored, chaotic mess…”

He shrugged. *hey, that’s the model monster kids have been learning in school for ages.

Her fists clenched a little tighter, but her voice had a little tremor in it that was much more effective. “That is precisely why this project was so important… not only for Frisk, but for the other children in the class as well.”

He sighed. *aw, tori, i told ya, you don’t have all the facts yet. the anime solar system is pretty unscientific, i’ll give ya that.

Her eyes changed, from furious to just plain disappointed. That stung a bit. Quite a bit, actually. Sure he was used to disappointing people, but that didn’t mean he liked it. “And yet you could not even be bothered to try?”

All of his defenses were crumbling. This wasn’t Asgore trying to pry information out of him, or Undyne trying to intimidate him into doing his job, or a flower/child with time travel powers trying to make him feel small and helpless. This was Tori. And she was looking at him like he’d betrayed her.

“Sans?”

That sounded more like the Tori he knew and loved. He just wished she’d made a reappearance before he’d started to shrink in on himself. What was happening to him? Sure his bro was the cool one, but Sans was known for keeping his ‘chill’, not matter how “hot” the situation.

A paw closed over his shoulder. “I realize that education does not mean to you, what it does to me, but I simply…”

She’d done it. Cracked right through his chill and made him feel like dirt. He should have just played along before she’d dropped the nostril flaring in exchange for that wounded look. He should have known better than to string her along like that. It almost made him wish that he had slacked off. That way, he could grin sheepishly and apologize, and she’d forgive him, and they wouldn’t be at this awkward juncture anymore. He studied the ground between them. *it’s not the whole project.

“Excuse me?”

*the anime solar system is just an example of monsters previous misconceptions. that setup was different, and new to frisk, so the kid wanted to make one of those. we worked out a presentation on the actual science stuff to go along with it.

When he glanced up again, she was staring at him in dismay, like she’d actually been about to incinerate him for a misunderstanding or something. The absurdity of that thought lifted the corners of his sockets a little. The way her cheeks were starting to flush under her fur lifted them a little more. “Sans… I…”

He full on grinned at her. *eh, don’t “sweat” it, tori. shoulda cleared that up right from the start, ‘specially considering what a “flaming” passion you have for the education system.

Her eyes narrowed, but into a smirk this time. “And why did you not?”

He shrugged. *i dunno. isn’t anything personal. i’m just enough of a jerk that i’d have kept it up until you screamed ‘off with my head’. but ya’know… you’re not the queen of the underground anymore, tori. ya “goat”a learn to “chill”. stop to smell the roses, whether they’re painted or not.

She huffed. “I am not the queen of hearts, either, Sans.”

Ah, right into his trap. He winked. *you’re the queen of mine.

She looked startled as her blush deepened, and then she finally laughed, and it was well worth the wait, as usual.

Yeah, Toriel might not always act in the most queenly of ways, but there were still plenty of reminders that she was still very much royalty… even when it was just the two of them.

[longsightmyth]

Chapter-by-Chapter, The Naming, Chapter 11

PELLINOR

And from his icy throne a king

Rose from his spellbound sleep and saw

A vision of the banished spring

A form so fair and luminous

That from his frosted eyes the hoar

Ran down like tears and, marveling,

He felt the chains of winter thaw

And years of thraldom ruinous

Between them stood a wall of ice

And round them barren winter waste,

But each saw in the other’s face

The light of summer lingering:

And then like thunder broke the frost,

The chill wall fell, and morrowless

Immortal maid and man embraced,

Their light and shadow mingling.

That’s two verses from The Lay of Ardina and Ardhor, and that’s how this new section (Rachida) starts out.

Maerad and Cadvan ride through the dark and the rain for a couple of hours before coming to a small town called Stormont. They’re still in Innail Fesse (basically the lands that Innail is responsible for educating, healing, and in general helping) and Cadvan feels safe enough to rent some rooms at an inn without disguising him and Maerad. The innkeeper knows him and assures him that he’ll be discrete.

The next morning Cadvan wakes Maerad up and they’re ready to go within an hour even allowing for a giant breakfast. Maerad reflects that if their stays are always like this the trip won’t be too bad.

Maerad is less genre-savvy than she could be. It’s unfortunate. Also unfortunate: everyone and their cousin seems to think Cadvan might be shacking up with a sixteen year old on the sly. I’d forgotten that.

The innkeeper mentions as he sees them off that he keeps hearing stories about things being ‘out of whack’. Cadvan says that things are, but the bards are doing what they can and hopes that the inn remains untouched. They’re off.

They ride for a day before coming up on another inn. Cadvan is clearly being nice, and he tells Maerad cheerfully that after this she should be ready for tree roots. Here they pretend to be husband and wife, and I sideye EVERYONE, though I suppose if they’re pretending not to be bards Cadvan could be assumed to be in his mid-to-late twenties and I GUESS if we’re going with vaguely Renaissance culture (as stated in the appendices) sixteen isn’t too young for marriage but also she’s sixteen. Ugh. Anyway.

The innkeeper here gives them a suite, and Maerad realizes that in the biggest fanfic cliche ever there is only one bed. She stands there, getting more and more nervous, until the innkeeper leaves and she quietly points this out to Cadvan.

“There’s only one bed,” she whispered.

Cadvan glanced up quickly, and Maerad understood that he knew or guessed more than she realized about her doubts and fears.

“That’s easily solved,” he said. “I’ll sleep on the couch. Luxury for a man like me.”

“A hard man of the wild,” she said, suddenly feeling lighter. “No doubt a stone floor is a king’s sleep.”

“The finest swans-down. But of course, you are welcome to such comfort if you desire.”

Maerad laughed, her anxiety dissipated.

They have dinner (“a thick beef casserole fragrant with herbs and topped with a chewy layer of melted cheese, with fresh bread and local wine” and yes I am now hungry) and the innkeeper offers them some apple tart too, because his wife (the cook for the establishment) makes super good clotted cream and her tarts are good too.

It’s super good. Maerad and Cadvan tell the innkeeper so when he comes back for plates.

“Marta will be grand happy to hear that,” [the innkeeper] said. “She takes a lot of care over her cooking, so she does, even if some don’t care or notice.”

I am officially invested in this innkeeping couple, okay. He’s mad that people don’t appreciate his wife’s work. He brags about her skills. We haven’t even met her yet and I ship it hard. ANYWAY.

Cadvan does some probing in regards to Ettinor (Helgar the racist dick’s school, if you recall).

“I hear the bards is demanding up in Ettinor,” said Halifax [the innkeeper]. “And they leave scarce little for the people to make a life with, living high on the sweat of others with nary a thank-you. Not like our School here, where they run things fair, if you know what I mean. They do Barding proper here, they do. They’re here every Springturn and and harvest, and the little ‘uns hereabouts know all their letters. And I remember when my daughter had the witchfever, back when she was a babe, and she looked like dying, and Oron herself came and laid her hands on her.”

Halifax also mentions more specific grievances, such as the two people who felt like bards leaving without paying the other day. He leaves to take care of other guests.

Maerad asks what all of this means. Cadvan doesn’t know for sure, but he doesn’t like it and he fully believes that the innkeeper was right about something being off here too.

“Innkeepers are not stupid, they are used to meeting many kinds of people, and their intuitions are often more practiced than most.”

They go to sleep, and Maerad dreams.

Something creeps along the road to Innail and tries to get into Silvia and Malgorn’s house but fails miserably in a bright flash of light. It picks itself up and keeps moving.

Dernhil looks up “like a deer scenting a wolf” just before there is a knock on his door. He doesn’t answer it, but it busts open anyway.

Two figures stood in the dark hallway beyond.

Dernhil stood up as the figures walked into the light. They were heavily cloaked and booted in black, and their hoods obscured their faces, although he could see their eyes burning red. A chill, like that of a tomb, entered the room with them and Dernhil lifted his hands as if to fend them off.

“You cannot ward against us!” said one of the figures sharply, making a strange motion with his hands.

Dernhil was suddenly stilled, as if he were frozen.

“We are come for a little information, Dernhil of Gent. Help us, and our master will reward you richly.”

There was a long silence. “I know who you are,” Dernhil said at last. His speech was thick, as if he were in pain. “I’ll not have any dealings with your kind.”

They want to know about Maerad. Dernhil says absolutely nothing for the last very few minutes of his life, but he does radiate “an aura of light, recalling the luminosity of sunlight on summer trees or the radiance of a fountain.” It seems to hurt the hulls (that’s what they are, okay, we know) but they aren’t stopped and try to probe his mind for info. Dernhil and one of the hulls meet eyes, and Dernhil shouts and collapses, dead.

“There was nothing there,” [the hull] said. “Nothing.”

Maerad wakes up when they leave the room, but first they kick Dernhil’s body aside pretty carelessly. She takes a long time to go back to sleep.

Pages: 12

Fragments: 2

Em-Dashes: 3

Ellipses: 0

THRONE OF GLASS

Only one chapter this time! It’s chapter 23.

Celaena has a dream where she’s back in Endovier being whipped. It’s a pretty effective piece of writing up until the very end, where it goes flowery again. She wakes to Chaol telling her it was a dream, and we are reminded that she has three whip scars on her back.

We also learn that it’s Samhuinn, and Celaena is angry that no one told her. They have toilets but not calendars? Anyway, she’s not training today, and she wants to know if there’s a feast.

There is, Chaol says, and she’s not invited. Celaena says of course she isn’t and manages not to exposition dump what Samhuinn is but still convey the idea of it in dialogue, which I appreciate even though it’s Samhain. It’s just Samhain.

Chaol does say she can go to the temple services as they sit down to breakfast, saying that religious observances shouldn’t be denied anyone. I agree with the sentiment but question the practicality of allowing the assassin in the same room with all the royals and courtiers.

She keeps adding sugar to her porridge and at one point makes a ‘demented’ face. We learn by way of her complaining that there is another Test coming up, and that the last one was three days ago and involved javelin-throwing from horseback. Celaena’s wrist is still sore.

We switch to Dorian’s PoV. He was bored during the service and doesn’t like religion, which also means we saw none of the religion. He is also bored with the women at court, because they all titter and fawn and flutter their fans and lashes or whatever. Probably these women all titter and fawn and flutter their fans and lashes because they live in a court at the whim of an apparently tyrannical and murderous ruler and are playing it safe, but what do I know? Probably every single woman in the entire court of Adarlan is actually a hollow, empty shell who cares nothing about anything but looking pretty, that one seems more likely.

We learn that Perrington wants to bring in more soldiers and launch a full scale assault on Eyllwe, on whose political status I am still unclear. Are they a protectorate? A tributary? Have they somehow managed to stay their own independent nation? If so, why only Eyllwe out of all the other nations? Or are Fenharrow and Melisande ALSO nominally still under their own rule but have Adarlanian ‘advisors’ or some such? Why does Dorian say there are no more princesses? I know Fenharrow has the council of lords and Melisande has a puppet queen, but neither of them seem to have the same presence or consideration at court that Eyllwe does. TELL ME.

Ahem.

Dorian runs into Celaena, Nehemia, and Chaol. Chaol seems to be over his difficulties about Celaena hanging out with Nehemia. Dorian comments on Celaena’s dress, which is out of date (hey look! Consideration of the evolution of fashion!). Chaol says that her maids were at the service so she had to get ready herself, but that makes no sense from a timeline or nobility/entitlement standpoint so idk. Dorian reiterates that Celaena can’t go to the feast when Nehemia asks. For some reason Nehemia and Celaena intimidate Dorian by cracking one joke about him keeping women entertained.

Nehemia rags on the king of Adarlan in public and asserts that soldiers and guards are the same thing. Nehemia, I expected better princess Leia-ing from you, madam. Nehemia also declares that Celaena will teach her Adarlanian, to which Chaol acquiesces. I’d believe the royal pressure more if Chaol ever caved to royal pressure in ways that doesn’t directly benefit the plot just because.

They see Cain cleaning the marks on the ground around the clock tower. Nehemia says Celaena is hiding something from her. Celaena can tell Nehemia is hiding something from her too. They agree to meet after supper for Celaena to teach Nehemia her language. End chapter.

Pages: 12

Fragments: 2

Em-Dashes: 3

Ellipses: 0

COMPARISON

I just don’t like Throne of Glass, y’all. I just don’t. I find the worldbuilding shoddy at best, the characters unlikeable and inconsistent, and the morality upsettingly protagonist-centered while masquerading as feminism. Putting one female character on a pedestal and dragging down all other women who don’t actively uphold that pedestal is not feminism, it’s just being an asshole.

That being said, this is not its worst-written chapter. We manage to learn something about the religion (or at least a religious holiday) in a pretty natural-seeming conversation AND get some idea about current fashions vs historical ones, Nehemia and Celaena are being bros, and there is some actual foreshadowing (however clumsy I personally found it).

I still despise Dorian. I despise him with every fiber of my being. Anyone who decides that every woman around him (except our beloved protagonist, of course) is a shallow, vapid twit with no brains and fails to note that the only factors they all have in common are a, him, and b, his tyrannical, murderous father, is a selfish dick who refuses to see past the end of his own nose. Miss me with that ‘Dorian is our hope for the future’ nonsense, Chaol, I don’t want him.

Meanwhile, Nehemia’s spycraft is slipping sideways into shoddy. It’s unfortunate, but moreover it undermines the scariness of the king of Adarlan. I can’t be scared of him if he never does anything, book, and unfortunately the later murder of a rebel group that we’ve never met and knew nothing about doesn’t give me-the-reader the kind of low-key dread that I’d have if everyone at court worked hard to never naysay him or be heard speaking against his policies or just plain disappearing if they did. That would be scary, book. That would imply consequences. As it is, he just lets people who actively and loudly undermine him run around court? Sure. That sounds like a demon who has no regard for human life running a conquering nation with an iron fist. Absolutely.

Over in Pellinor, we have Maerad and Cadvan riding and riding and riding, and we learn all sorts of things about the world from what bards are expected to do, how good bard leaders behave, and the respect Cadvan has and is imparting to Maerad for non-bards.

We also get people thinking Cadvan would sleep with a sixteen year old. What is this, y’all. Why. She’s sixteen. She’s a CHILD. Renaissance-based culture, etc etc, I know, but we’re writing for modern audiences and I just. Maerad and another sixteen year old or even eighteen or twenty or whatever, okay, I get it, but Cadvan and Dernhil are both fully mature bards around the same age and Cadvan is in his seventies so…? Book. Book culture. I’m watching you.

Cadvan and Dernhil do respect Maerad’s feelings and boundaries, though, as opposed to Celaena’s 500+ year old love interest/mate/husband in later books though, so like. Am I grading on a curve? Does Pellinor get points for having a mature and cautious slowly-developing relationship after having another dude react maturely to rejection? Does it lose them for having a romance (two?) between what is after all a sixteen year old and a 70+ year old even if he is essentially a Dunedain? Do I give Throne of Glass points because (most) of Celaena’s love interests are around her age, or take them away because she ends up with a 500+ year old jerk who doesn’t listen to her about her own body or feelings? It’s a dilemma, y’all (it’s not: they all lose points, Throne of Glass just loses more)

Speaking of Actual Peril with High Stakes, Dernhil is dead. Dernhil, we hardly knew ye, but we did know you were an emotionally mature librarian and Silvia liked you, so. Props for bardically killing yourself so the hulls couldn’t get anything out of you about Maerad and Cadvan. I’m sad about it.

[jorelassicpark]

Imagine Being Thanos (AU, spoilers, duh)

Something I wrote really quickly.

Apologies for turning Titan into Man of Steel’s Krypton.

Imagine this: you're young, you're optimistic, you're among the brightest and best of your planet. Your family loved you. You're among friends who'd die for you. You've had one of the best upbringings you could ask for. You never go to bed hungry and you've got a job lined up for you once you complete your well-earned education.

But outside of your circle, what your family and friends ignore, is strife - poverty, racism, homophobia, xenophobia, nationalism, us vs. them, politics vs. politics, riots, hunger. Resources are dwindling while the population rises. Your hometown was once quiet, even if it was big - now it's stuffed to the gills with the rich getting richer while the middle class can't afford a house now because all the jobs are being taken by either the overqualified or the rich, while criminals prey on the poor and rich alike who're moving in hoping to snatch up a job. The schools are stuffed to bursting and the teachers get paid for shit. Your friends who start families have to start homeschooling them or scrape up money to send them to a private school to get a quality education, or keep them away from gangs that are popping up. You're assaulted twice, and criminals looking to start fights with you because you were born big break your bones. Even your family can't afford the bills anymore. You're followed by beggars - some you recognize as your old classmate from high school, hit by another recession. Some are completely out of their minds, talking to Gods that aren't there and screaming and hollering. One nearly slashes your throat open with a rusty blade because he thinks you're recording him with your phone.

You notice the summers getting warmer, earlier. Winter doesn't feel like winter anymore. Everyone knows it's the factories struggling to keep up demand spewing smoke into the air. The leaders of each country repeal the fragile environmental laws in place. Your dad used to take the family jetskiing and fishing. You can't do that anymore - the fish are completely gone and the last person who took a swim is dying in the hospital from Gods-know-how-many chemicals. Last week, it hit

In your lifetime, one war after another pops up, in one way or another. Nation A accuses Nation B of meddling in their politics. Nation B invades Nation C that used to be a part of it. Nation A's citizens argue back and forth about Nation B. The right is cleaved in half, one finding Nation B a right-wing aliy, while the other half can't forgive the shadow war waged for the last century. The left fares no better - one half despises its lack of free speech, its own bigotry, while the other half believes it to be an ally against Nation A's own longstanding issues with hatred - slavery in the past, subtle racism that keeps minorities in ghettos now, police brutality. Your nation elects a bigot who seethes against the other every day. Your university shuts down several times. You're tear-gassed by police as you try to make your way to the laboratories. You're mistaken for the Other by one faction or another and you barely escape with your health more than once.

You try to help. You donate to charity, and find the board has been stealing what should be cancer research funds to go party on their yachts. You give blood, only to read that 99% of it goes unused because the collection methods spoil it before it can be used. You

Then it hits. War comes home. Half your family is dead. Half your friends go missing, disappeared into prisons to never be seen again or simply *gone*. You used to share a room with your brother and it takes a long time for you to stop coming home and start talking until you realize the bed above yours is empty. You don't see the sun for days because there's so much thick smoke choking the air from all the bombings. What's left of your family huddles in candlelight after the power shuts down for the nth time, hoping the rifle cracks don't get closer.

The war doesn't get better. Nations are gone overnight. Another half of what remains of your family is drafted to die in a land they don't know. Half of your university is gone, also drafted into the war. In the break room, the professor of philosophy - a man you respect, a man who taught you how to debate, to question what you see, to make sense of other people's suffering - watches the news. The damage is catastrophic. Nuclear weapons poison lands irreversibly. Another scientist is quoted that out of a once roiling planet of one trillion, five billion are left, and dropping *nightly*.

The city mayor calls an emergency meeting. The food supplies are dwindling. Medicine is zero. The remaining hospitals had to put the old, the terminally ill, the critically wounded in palliative care and lie to them that they'll make it.

Something inside you snaps. Maybe it's the fact you barely made it out of an artillery shelling last night. Maybe you're so hungry that you've considered eating the bugs coming out of the rubble. Maybe you're tired of the arguments on who to banish next for some petty thing - banish him because he looks fat and maybe was hoarding food. Banish him because he used to be a racist. Banish that guy because he voted for the party that got us into this war.

You suggest everyone draw straws. One half with the tallest straws get to stay. The other half... you want to say banishment, but you've seen the girl down the street die of radiation poisoning in the gaping crater when she took the wrong path out of town.

Everyone - even your own family - stares at you like you're pure evil.

You work alone, now. Trying to find a cure, and it's hard without anyone to help you move isotopes or work the microscopes or bring you raw materials. But what you can do is math. Prove that your plan, as evil as it is, is right. You draw up statistics. You call on census records and the remaining orbital satellites to determine who is left. You sample soil and watch the clouds and orbit and temperature and all the food sources - animal, plant, and otherwise. Math is simple and easy to understand - it didn't make fun of you for being different, it didn't care if it couldn't understand you.

You have your final plea to save the world. There isn't much time to execute it, and a shred of you hopes you are wrong.

You broadcast your plea. End this. Save what we have left.

You find nothing but mockery. Your plans are broadcasted to other nations to prove yours is an evil, genocidal one when you meant nothing like it.

Another half of your city is destroyed in a bombing sweep trying to target you. The cowards didn't even spare one of their foot soldiers to do the job personally.

One night, your father wakes you up. His eyes are red, and there is something other than hollow shock in his eyes. He leads you to what is left of the laboratories. The readings are getting worse - the tremors are shaking continents apart. The oceans will evaporate in a year, no matter what anyone does. Soon, everyone who survives the quakes will have their lungs collapse into a poison sludge - if the last leaders of every 'great' nation just finally settle for Mutually-Assured Destruction.

He used to be a rocket scientist. He helped Titan meet other worlds, trade peacefully, explore the stars - and that technology is now used to deliver more missiles to nations no longer there.

His personal ship can only fit one. He says he was trying to modify it to fit the family, but that's moot now. It's just you and him.

You're not going, you say. You don't want another hole in your heart. You don't want another ghost haunting this world. You tell him he's older and wiser and he can orate and argue and that he was a diplomat. They'll listen.

You know you screamed at each other, begging not to go. You don't remember much of the exact details - but you remember one. You remember the strength you inherited from him picking you up and tossing you bodily into the cockpit.

You are in orbit when your father is proven right. Nuclear strikes scour light into your eyes. For days, you can't see anything but the memory of your planet turning to the sickest pitch black for a second is burned into your eyes forever.

You drift through space. Your father had set coordinates for the nearest friendly planet. You hope and pray for a diplomatic mission to meet you, to have some kind of shelter. You look forward to a bed and clean food, even though you know they'll probably ignore you at best.

You're beset upon by pirates, beaten to an inch of your life, your ship scrapped for parts. But you live. You manage a living doing hard labor. You work your way into the sciences. You hope this planet avoids another war.

And this world repeats what your world did.

Once again, you escape with your life on a one-man ship. And this time, war has spread through the system - into the next one. You see ships burning unnatural fires into colonies. You see planetary rings formed from endless dead fleets.

It is here, alone in the galaxy, utterly, completely alone, that you decide you will make them listen.

[asherahlives-blog]

The Pool of Asherah

The dream started with an ordinary-enough yet unusual situation: I was hanging out with two women friends (I didn’t know these women in the dream) at their home, preparing to spend the night there because I was going to accompany the one named Lynn on a road trip the next day as part of my education. I’m 62 in life, and I was 62 in the dream. 

We talked and laughed and had dinner; while cleaning up after the meal, an additional friend knocked and came in through the kitchen door. In unison, Lynn and Lesley said, “Elizabeth Power!” and dissolved in laughter. I was perplexed. Quite aware of my awake-life in the dream, I remembered a friend of friends named Elizabeth Power. I didn’t really know her, but when I met her once, her humor and wisdom were apparent.  

Together, we laughed uproariously for what seemed like ten minutes when I asked, “What time do we leave tomorrow, Lynn?” and she responded, “3:15 am to get to Memphis on time for my meeting.” Elizabeth Power piped up, saying, “It’s 2:30 now! Already tomorrow, girls!” and we practically shouted with laughter, astonished by  the passage of so much time in such a short space of reality. 

In the dream, I had no doubt Lynn spoke of Memphis, Tennessee, since we all lived in the Nashville area, but once we reached our destination, it didn’t seem at all like the Memphis I’ve visited before. Not in the least. Lynn, Elizabeth Power (we always addressed her by her full name) and I took what seemed like the shortest road-trip ever, even though the trip west on I-40 is about 3 hours long and boring, especially in the dark. But we three ladies, absolutely energized by our conversation and laughter, weren’t tired at all. Elizabeth Power, noting there was plenty of time, wanted Lynn to stop at a friend’s home on the river, so Lynn drove there first. 

Dawn was approaching as we parked and headed down a grassy, wooded path.Somehow, I knew this visit was for me; I knew this too was part of my education. The lessons of the past few years have been anything but exciting (more like excruciating), yet for this lesson, I tingled with anticipation. I realized we walked purposefully into a vortex, Elizabeth Power taking the lead. Like a little girl, she skipped along the pathway covered by large pinkish stones, turning to encourage Lynn and me onward. Clearly, she had been here before and knew what was ahead. Lynn spoke to Elizabeth Power and turned around, returning to her car and the meeting she was due to attend. Elizabeth motioned for me to continue, saying “They’re waiting for you, darling! I’ll be along.” Then I was alone. So, I continued. 

The stones in the pathway were very large and their color simply stunning, a golden-pink with white veins, like worn, unfinished marble. Now, a stream was rushing alongside the path, and suddenly the path opened to a huge room with a natural pool in the center, surrounded by the same pink marble. The path of stones ended with one last stone, more worn than the rest, jutting out in the center of the pool. 

I realized I was young, wearing summer sandals, white shorts and a flowy white blouse. I noticed people all around the pool, and others on the path behind me, gently encouraging me to…dive in? I was incredulous, since my mind knew it was a cold, early morning February day. I saw Elizabeth Power, and she nodded. The warmth in her eyes conveyed a joyful, “Yes!” 

Diving in seemed like the most natural, logical thing I ever did. The water was warm and cooling at the same time. It was healing and nurturing. I turned to look at the next person standing on the diving spot; a very old man, stooped over, wearing his best clothes, clean but ragged and wrinkly. He was poor, yet unashamed because in this healing place, all were made welcome. We floated around together, the lines on his face relaxing, his smile becoming a radiant with bliss.

Someone held out a hand and I clambered out of the pool, dripping, but nobody cared. The floor was slightly elevated toward the center with channels along the edges to direct the healing water back to the pool. My white clothes clung to my body, but I wasn’t chilled. In the company of many others, some wet and others dry, we went into another large room with tables of wonderful, fragrant food and drink. The walls and floor were white marble, not polished, but with a patina of antiquity. I thought of Frank Lloyd Wright’s architecture, and the way his ideas bridged the outdoors and indoors in a seamless oneness.

A hush came over the assembled people and Elizabeth Power’s voice, quivering with elation, announced, “She’s here!” An unusual electricity swept over me and I was suddenly and entirely dry. My white attire was gleaming. Some of the people darted around furtively, as if  trying to hide from whoever this “She” was. I had the impression that it wasn’t a good idea to look into her eyes.  I was told to sit on the floor in a darkened storage hallway, but then I caught a glimpse of Her. I wasn’t going to sit on any floor after that!

She was a Goddess, and I knew it. It seemed as though her being was encased in an ancient wooden statue. She seemed unable to move freely, but She was alive and powerful, even though encased in the wooden form so old it was petrified. The statue was about six feet tall, with a long flowing dress carved from the wood, similar in fashion to a Grecian goddess, and I remembered the immense statue of Athena on display in Nashville’s Parthenon. And yet, the residual paint on her face reminded me of Durga, a principal Goddess in the Hindu pantheon, and it would not have surprised me to see multiple arms spring from her form. Her form glided around the room, as if looking for someone.

Elizabeth Power motioned to me from across the room, holding my gaze as I began to walk toward her. I didn’t notice who was behind me until I felt a tap on my shoulder and heard Elizabeth Power laughing again. Whirling around, I looked straight into “Her” eyes and she into mine. I heard “I am Asherah, and so are you” and a lightning bolt ripped through my being with a loud crackling sound as “She” crumbled to dust. A woman’s laughing voice said, “All clear, my darlings!” The gathering merrily resumed and I awakened from the dream.

                                       ***

It was one of those dreams that was really a vision, with a clarity and intelligent aura of truth and authenticity well beyond physical reality. I knew nothing of Ashera before the dream. Sure, I had heard the name and probably pulled an Ashera card from a deck of Goddess cards before, but I didn’t remember anything about her except ‘ancient,’ so the research began. From one of the first (and best) articles I found, I was astonished to read the following: “They worshiped Her [Asherah] under every green tree,” according to the Hebrew Bible (the Old Testament). The Bible also tells us Her image was to be found for years in the temple of Solomon, where the women wove hangings for Her. “In temple and forest grove, Her image was made of wood…carved of a tree, and perhaps the image was a stylized tree of some kind.“The archaeological record suggests that Asherah was the Mother Goddess of Israel, the Wife of God, according to William Dever, who has unearthed many clues to her identity. “She was worshiped…throughout the time Israel stood as a nation. Asherah’s image decorated household shrines. [Many images of  Asherah] emphasize Her breasts, suggesting Her role as a fertility goddess, but Her nature [is] as a mother in general.  She no doubt aided in the concerns of mothers, including conception and childbirth, but was probably also the mother of all, a comforter and protector in an uncertain world. Inscriptions from ancient Israel tell us that Yahweh and “his Asherah” were invoked together for personal protection. Her identification with trees suggests that Asherah was also Mother Nature…She was, in other words, everything you would expect from the feminine half of the divine creative duo, a Great Mother. Who was She, this lost Goddess of the Hebrews? And why is She no longer worshiped in the Judeo-Christian religions of today? Asherah’s image was lost to us not by chance.” 

I thought about ‘Elizabeth Power,’ and how Elizabeth, wife of Zechariah, mother of John the Baptist and Mother Mary’s cousin, was an aid to young Mary’s concerns about becoming a mother, how she comforted and protected Mary in her new and uncertain world, how she empowered Mary to become the Mother to Christ and Mother to the World. Additional research connect Asherah with both the Tree of Life and Sophia (Greek) or Hokmah/Shekinah (Hebrew), the Goddess of Wisdom. For example, Proverbs 3:13-19 says,“Blessed are those who find Wisdom, those who gain understanding, for she is more profitable than silver and yields better returns than gold. She is more precious than rubies; nothing you desire can compare with her. Long life is in her right hand; in her left hand are riches and honor. Her ways are pleasant ways, and all her paths are peace. She is a tree of life to those who take hold of her; those who hold her fast will be blessed. By Wisdom the Lord laid the earth’s foundations, by understanding he set the heavens in place.”

There is a whole wealth of knowledge about ancient Sumerian, Ugarit, Babylonian, Egyptian, Roman and even Hindu Goddesses, but the stories intermingle and specificity is rare. Many Goddesses were depicted with serpents and many others, lions. Asherah is associated with Ishtar, Astarte, Inanna, Anahita, Sekhmet, Libertas and even Durga, Supreme Mother Goddess of Hinduism. One thing is certain about the Biblical Asherah, however, and that is her banishment from Judaism and later, Christianity. Her name was  removed and replaced with “tree”  or “grove of trees,” and all semblance of Asherah worship, from altar pieces to “Asherah poles” were burned or banned. “Scratch the surface of the Bible stories just a little and you’ll find the serpent staff and the tree worship of Asherah under every green tree, but in official monotheistic doctrine the obvious meaning of these symbols is disavowed. And so we lost Asherah, the Wife of God, the Tree of Life, and the ability to access Divine Wisdom.” It’s time for the grand return of Asherah. We need Divine Wisdom like never before! Stay tuned, because it appears I haven’t begun to scratch the surface of what this is going to mean for me.

Libby Maxey is a Visionary Voyager into the "What If?, wife to her twin flame, minister, mother, nana, writer of books and blogs, transgender advocate and egalitarian. Her book titles I Am Liberty and One Becomes One are available on Amazon.com.

Asherah articles:  

1. Parts I, II and III of https://thequeenofheaven.wordpress.com/2010/10/27/asherah-part-i-the-lost-bride-of-yahweh/

 2. http://www.asphodel-long.com/html/asherah.html

3. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Asherah