#should i get we rarely become heroes tattooed on my body yes or no. i feel like the answer is yes

[harrowharkwife]

you ever think about wake's notes? about how her revenant wrote that "THE ONLY THING OUR CIVILISATION CAN LEARN FROM YOURS IS THAT WHEN OUR BACKS ARE TO THE WALL AND OUR TOWERS ARE FALLING ALL AROUND US AND WE ARE WATCHING OURSELVES BURN– "

" –WE RARELY BECOME HEROES."

only to end up a hero herself? 'cause i do. i think about that a lot actually

[dabis-azure-songstress]

Your Scars Are Beautiful (Todoroki Shoto x Reader)

A/N: I got way too into this one! It's my more romantic style of writing as opposed to the smutty filth that I usually write. This is my first time trying to write Shoto Todoroki and I hope I nailed his character awesomely! I hope you enjoy him and becoming his lovely wife. ;) This is the Taste the Peppermint version. Please enjoy yourselves and be sure to drop some love or comments if you like! This is the one I've worked the hardest on so far, so I hope it gets some serious love but if not, oh well~ I really enjoyed writing it. If you all don’t like it, I’m seriously going to let Dabi spank my bare butt with his fire on his hand. xD Because oh my god, I worked so hard

Pairing: Shoto Todoroki x Reader Warnings: Passionate loving, NSFW, TASTE THE PEPPERMINT Reader's Quirk: My OC, Shinju a.k.a. Electro-Dancer has an Emitter-type quirk called ElectroMance that allows her to harness the power of lightning. She can also call forth storms if one is in the area that has lightning with it. Honestly, it's attracted to her both as a good tool and in a bad way. When a storm is called (by her low whistling, I call is Storm Whistling, as a belief from some of the more witchy culture which is a part of what I'm into) she can imbue some of the droplets with varied amounts of lightning to paralyze an opponent by intercepting brain/muscle signals where the droplets touch the opponent which she calls "Electrostatic Precipitation". Think of electro-therapy almost or a taser.

Shoto glanced swiftly to his side where Y/N ran alongside him (though somewhat clumsily) on his ice. She slides as she came to stop. He grabbed her hand quickly and stared at the masked hero. "Can you do it from this range? Can you manage?" he spoke. "I think so! Here we go!" Y/N clasped her hands together rapidly and let out a low but soft whistle before periwinkle lightning crackled between them. A loud rumble resounded overhead as the angry grey clouds above began to spill their bounty of precipitation and lightning began to strike from the clouds. The villain was still going at it with Deku as Y/N infused a select few droplets above them with lightning charges. As they began to hit the villain, his body tensed as they paralyzed the muscles as they intercepted his nervous signals. "Electrostatic Precipitation!" Shoto watched in amazement, yet his face remained quite aloof as normal. It was the first time he'd been paired with the lightning quirked female, despite his years of school and friendship with her. Suddenly, the sky lit with lightning and Todoroki tried to intercept the strike with ice, but was a bit too late as it hit Y/N directly. She cried out sharply and her body shook from the charge as the ice below their feet shattered. Todoroki managed to catch himself as he created more, but the other heroine continued to fall. "Hey, Half N' Half! Be careful!" Bakugo roared as he propelled himself forward with explosions to catch the heroine. "Take her somewhere safe! She's short-circuited herself worse than Dunce Face, literally!" Bakugo hollered as he landed on Shoto's ice with a careful slide. Todoroki nodded as Bakugo loaded Y/N onto his back cautiously. Shoto managed to move to an evacuated building basement before he laid Y/N down on a spare bed he found inside. Swiftly, he began to check her vitals and body for further injury or shock. Luckily, she was alright until he could get her back to Recovery Girl or Recovery Girl to her. Y/N's eyes flicked open in utter panic and she groaned loudly. "T-Todoroki, it hurts! SHIT! It burns! Please!" she began to cry loudly. "What does? What's going on?" he replied monotonously with a slow blink. "M-my side! You've gotta unzip my suit quick! Please! I'm begging you, Todoroki," she sobbed, "My body hurts so bad!" He stared at her a moment before he began unzipping the underside of her sleeve and the side of her hero uniform. Shoto's eyes widened at the deep and angry red Lichtenberg mark that swirled and curled down the side of her body and over her right hip like a tattoo. Y/N was in too much pain to be embarrassed by the situation. "S-Shoto..." she cried helplessly and squeezed his hand roughly with her. The pressure made him have to fight not to freeze her. Maybe I can distract her. Without thinking, he placed his lips upon her knuckles quickly. "It's okay. You'll be okay. Kisses make everything better." He mostly got a pained breath in return, but her body seemed to relax slightly. "Easy." he shushed lightly as if speaking to a terrified child. She slipped unconscious beside him. ---A Few Hours--- "She'll be just dandy. That right hip might give her a bit of trouble walking temporarily, but she should heal up just fine besides having a nasty scar." Todoroki nodded as he watched Recovery Girl inspect Y/N and whispering to All Might. "You did well not to move her more. Probably would've put her body under more stress and sent her into cardiac arrest. Do you know if she has any family at home?" Shoto shook his head. "Alright. Out. I'll see if I can get her up and changed." Todoroki looked up as he heard approaching footsteps at the basement doorway and much slower, unsteady and awkward limps. Y/N looked at him, H/L down and frizzed slightly with a crutch under her arm and now changed into a plain white tee and grey sweatpants. "Ah, Young Todoroki. Can I trust you to help her home?" He nodded at All Might who took a spot by Recovery Girl. He nodded. ---- "You...really didn't have to help..." "Nonsense. With your hip hurting like that, you look like you're barely able to stand, much less walk." Y/N huffed gently. "Thank you, Shoto." He was surprised that her apartment wasn't really all that far from his. They came to the door and Y/N was very much freaking out. "Y-you don't have to come in, I'll be okay." Heterochromatic eyes watched her fumble with her keys. Her trying to keep him from entering kind of went over the poor guy's head. "I-I didn't pick up my laundry." she stuttered. "That's okay. I have a sister and I won't pay any mind." She'd never had another person in her apartment before honestly. Y/N relented and pushed the door open finally. They stepped inside and Todoroki glanced around. "This doesn't seem so bad." Sure, there were really clothes kind of flung randomly about and there was a trash bag completely filled in the kitchenette that needed to be taken out, but Todoroki thought it seemed homely and cozy. Y/N didn't look at him. "D-do you want anything to drink or something?" "Tea is fine." Y/N hobbled to the kitchen slowly as she started the tea. Then Todoroki took note of it. There were no photos on the fridge, walls, or tops of the furniture. "Y/N, I noticed there are no picture frames anywhere." Y/N paused in her movements as she set the teacup down carefully. "I don't know my family. I've heard mama was quirk-less and dad was like me. I've only had a boyfriend in my life for a little while, but we broke up last year so I tore all those down." Shoto listened quietly before he grabbed her hand softly with his hot one. "Then, I'll be your family. Would you like me to be?" He was as stoic as ever, but his eyes held a gentle softness. "Y-you're going to be my family? The great Shoto Todoroki?" Y/N began turning into a blubbering mess. "Not like I care what my dad thinks. You're powerful and I know you don't like him, but...After all these years, you've been taking care of yourself? Even as hurt as you've been in the past? Yes, I am your family. I want to be your family. The one you rely on." Y/N sobbed loudly and limped her way over to wrap the taller male tightly in her arms. She'd never heard him be so touching with anyone before. "Thank you, Shoto. That means so much to me." The male stroked her H/T hair and rested his head on her crown softly. It suddenly all made sense to him and clicked. How she was always working side jobs and came into her classes and even work exhausted and nearly on the verge of passing out a few rare times. Yet, she was still one of the best and strongest fighters they had, even managing to hold her own with Ground Zero and winning occasionally. He was impressed by the strength she obviously possessed physically, mentally, and spiritually. -----A Few Years Later----- As the years progressed, Y/N and Todoroki had begun dating and grew closer. They were inseparable. You rarely ever got one without the other. Especially since Shoto had promised to be there for her always in case she needed him. Lo and behold, they were in another battle when the villain's earthquake quirk had trapped them in a pocket under rubble and debris. "Sho, I don't see any way out." "Me either, but I turned the location on in my phone before we fell. Hopefully, someone will get us out of here soon. It's too dangerous to use our quirks." Y/N nodded and sat in front of him cautiously. "Baby, come here." Y/N moved carefully into his lap as he beckoned and he held her softly with her legs thrown over one side of his lap. "You know, I have been meaning to ask you this for a while now. Since I'm your family, how would you like to make it official and maybe make our own?" he inquired as he swept a stray strand of hair behind her ear. Y/N paled softly. "A-are you serious? You're asking me now?" Shoto chuckled lightly at her bewilderment. "I don't want any regrets, just in case. I also just wanted to gauge your reaction, but yes, I am entirely serious. I'm sure we also have quite a bit of time to ourselves here." Y/N felt flustered and stared off as a little movie flashed in her eyes. Their first meeting, their first date, all the work lunches, and all the work together. She finally glanced at him directly and Shoto was watching her softly with a small smile. "I-I'd love that...b-but..." "Hush, my love. A simple 'yes' or 'no' would suffice, but I'm so happy to hear you love the idea of marrying me as an answer." He caught her hand and held it tightly in his own cool one tightly. "My sweet love..." He leaned in slowly, capturing her lips passionately. Their mouths and tongues danced in sync. Her hands twisted into Shoto's two-toned locks softly. "Mm, I love you, my darling." Shoto cooed as he began to work her zipper down and slip the suit from her shoulders, peppered kisses following the trail of revealed skin. "I-ah-love you too, Sho..." she gasped softly as his tongue meticulously swirled around a swiftly budding nipple and his heated thumb massaged at the other gently. She hummed softly as he adjusted her to straddle his lap instead. "My Sho..." she purred lightly, grinding her hips down against his own. He grunted gently as his body reacted eagerly to her ministrations. He removed her uniform entirely before he held her firmly against him again. Y/N suddenly shied away slightly, the large scar down her side causing her to overthink. He'd seen her before after he had helped her shower and change into a new set of clothes the day it happened, but this time she wasn't exhausted or sore enough to keep her mind from speeding off self-consciously. She squirmed and was going to shield herself, but Shoto grabbed her hand and placed it over the scar upon his face softly. "Don't. You're so beautiful, my darling. Your scars are beautiful. I love it because it's so unique, just like you. I understand how you're feeling, but I love every. single. breath-taking. inch of you." he accentuated with gentle kisses between his pauses. Y/N melted immediately, stroking her thumb over his scar as they met in a gently appreciative kiss. "It's not really the appropriate place, but please permit me to show you, my love." Y/N nodded nervously at the suggestion as she pulled at the zipper on the front of his uniform and began to unbuckle his belt meekly. She blushed at the feel of his broad chest under her fingertips and his arousal proudly pressing itself up against her core. "Sho-" "Shh, my darling. You don't need to worry or use your words. Let me take care of you." Y/N nodded and relinquished herself to him. Shoto was intoxicated with her lips as he pulled her closer to him, one hand pressed gently on her upper back and the other sliding feather-light down the scar that adorned her body before it came to rest on the top of one of the supple cheeks of her rear. Blush filled her face. It was the first time he'd ever touched her so intimately with simple touches. Then the hand on her back slowly descended to trail down her front as they continued in heated kisses. Her soft moans parted them gently as his fingertips softly orbited the silky hear and nerves at the apex of her thighs. Nuzzling her cheek gently with his nose, he sighed out softly, "Such arousing noises, my love. You will make a beast out of me. I can barely refrain from ravaging you, but such conduct wouldn't be acceptable for this time." He hummed gently as he massaged her opening gently before sinking his middle finger slowly into the depths of her velvet. She mewled out sweetly, having long dreamt of the situation Y/N found herself in. "You're so hot and needy for just my hand, my love. I can't wait for your undoing when you finally have me in here." She hummed lowly, pushing her hips softly against Shoto's hand and digit. Shoto was nearly pulsing with need as he slipped another finger into her core. Y/N was beginning to feel too hot as she felt the flame in her core beginning to lick and build. "Sho..." she moaned out as after the slightest feeling of her clench on his fingers he'd quickened his attentions and begun curling his fingers sagaciously. "Does that feel good, my darling?" he purred. "Yes...yes...Sho...I-hngh..." She shuddered with a breathy sigh and her thighs quivered as the coil inside burst forth. He blushed softly, surprised at the sensation of her orgasm coating his fingers and inwardly proud it had just been with his fingers so far. See her so wanton and reciprocating of his ministrations had caused his desperation to bead up at the top of his rock-hard and straining shaft. "I think you're finally ready. But, just to be sure, are you ready?" he whispered softly into the shell of Y/N's ear hotly before he nipped gently. Her mind was still buzzing as she trembled and nodded, sliding her hands from his biceps and slipping her arms around his neck. They locked their lips heatedly as he prepared himself to delve into the most sacred of her depths. Shoto was hot against her and then he was slowly slipping deeper and deeper. They both moaned at the sensation as she began to stretch and spread wide to accommodate his girth. "You're in control of this, my love. The pace, the depth. It's all for you to set." Y/N moaned out as she shook and lowered herself to sheathe him entirely. The bi-colored haired male nearly rolled his eyes back enraptured in the pleasure and couldn't bite back the curse that slipped from his lips. "Fuck." Then Y/N began at a slow, deep, intimate pace that had both of their minds and nerve-endings reeling. That soon melted away though as they began to fall to their needs, and the soft fleshy sounds of their love-making filled their secluded area. "Unh, baby~" Shoto moaned out, gripping her hips tightly as he pulled her down to meet his urgent thrusts. As her head tilted back, he took the opportunity to suck a dark bruise into the silky skin of her neck. Y/N's back was arching and he moaned at the pure sight of her. "I can't take it anymore, my love. Hang on." He paused their movements before he laid out the top of his uniform on the ground behind her. "I can't get enough of you like this. Need more." Shoto pushed Y/N back onto his top gently before he had her pressed into the mating press position, not daring to remove himself from her, despite the slight discomfort of shifting. Shoto pushed until his pelvis was flush against her and she groaned at the feeling of being so full, causing him to twitch slightly. Y/N stared up at him with deeply glazed eyes and once he drew back, she was all but pouting as he pushed himself back in. "You take me so well, my love. You're just made for me." he praised, stroking a cheek with a starting-to-get-icy hand. She moaned at the praise and he had to let go of her hips to bury them in the dirt before he lost control of his quirk as he continued to drive into her. Y/N noticed the small clouds of their breaths as she dug her nails deeply into the skin of his back. She was feeling too good and the effort of their actions kept her from being cold to the nippy air. Shoto laced his icy hand with Y/N's by her head as he gyrated particularly deep. He groaned out loud. "My love, I won't last much longer if you keep gripping me like that." Y/N moaned beneath him and lifted the upper half of her body to sweetly kiss him. "I'm sorry. You just feel soooo goooddd. I can't help it. There's always our honeymoon and next time.~" Shoto was losing it as he heard the promise and he had to release her hand before he froze her. "Fuck." His thrusts picked up a more brisk pace. "Sho-wai-I-agh!" He moaned loudly as her heat tightened in spasms and creamed around him, some of her release even dripping onto his top below them and around his length. Y/N squirmed as he continued to thrust into her oversensitive and soaked heat. "Just a-" he shuddered out as he hit his peak, hips stuttering and pausing as his length throbbed and coated her insides with his snowy white release. The woman below him moaned at the feeling of his cream and he removed himself, blushing furiously at the soft flood that tried to follow as he glanced at her entrance to ensure he hadn't hurt her. Shoto huffed slightly as he noticed his right hand and part of the ground had frozen together. Y/N giggling sweetly below him made his cheek burn slightly as he got himself free. "Are you okay? Can you stand?" There he was, back to normal Shoto, but his eyes always told you everything. "Yeah. Give me just a few minutes, darling." --- The two of you redressed quickly, though Todoroki was sans shirt due to the mess you two had created on his shirt. "I can get another. I'm just going to burn this and we'll pretend it got ripped or something," he spoke, alighting the crumpled garment in his left palm. Y/N cleared her throat softly, slightly embarrassed and attempted to fix her hair. Shoto reached to touch her and his eyes widened as a loud electrostatic discharge 'POP' went of with a bit of a blue spark. "O-ow." "B-baby! I'm sorry!" A chuckle cut Y/N off. "It's alright, my love. At least you didn't strike me down with lightning like you did to yourself the first time we worked together. Though, I may need to invest in an ESD bracelet for future reference." --- Y/N and Shoto were found by none other than Deku and a few other friends who helped to get them out. The shirt excuse would have been bought if not for the angry nail marks down Todoroki's back. Cue everyone's embarrassment and trying not to say anything. Shoto got Y/N the ring of her dreams and she was happily content with the man of her dreams. Her pregnancy was announced soon after her honeymoon and Endeavor wasn't too happy but Shoto was Shoto about it. He kind of liked being a rebel and pissing his dad off. Although technically, Y/N had conceived before the honeymoon. ;)

[fc5holidayexchange]

An Inconvenient Longing

T- Rating: mentions of violence.

Hey, hey, Happy Holidays! My beta and I had to co-write some of this, especially the end, because I was running a fever for most of the last two weeks. I hope this is okay.

Rook first thought Joseph Seed only referred to his brothers and counterfeit sister as his family. Father, after all, was a common enough title for a priest. None of the Seeds used social media but some members had profiles hiding in strange little corners of the web. Yet, as the investigation wore on, those rare profiles disappeared. The idea filled Rook with a strange longing to delete their own profiles. What had one of the audio files of Seed's sermons said again?

Our family does not live in the digital cloud, or some bullshit.

Yet, like most mildly inconvenient things, Rook shook the longing off. Marshal Cameron Burke made it even easier to shove the feeling into the back of their mind. A kind description of Burke would be 'dedicated to his job'. Rook mentally deemed him a self-important asshole the moment he waltzed into the station. Still, someone had to arrest the guy.

The strange longing didn't strike Rook again until a few days into the Resistance. As they scouted the Durbman Marina one night, they caught sight of a female cultist kicking a vending machine. Although his gentle whisper could barely be made out over Mrs. Durbman's irate words, a male cultist reacted with strange familiarity. "Sister, calm your wrath, please. What would the Father think?"

The two looked nothing alike, didn't even pass as the same race. Rook watched as the woman relaxed into the touch. They didn't catch her response over the sound of their own heartbeat. They fled the scene, and tried to squash the longing. True, Montana was not Rook's home. The other deputies and Whitehorse were not their family. The other fighters were barely even friends. Still, Rook had a job to do.

Learning new skills became the easiest way to distract themselves. Want to lure a Peggie away from a hostage? Blow up a car nearby. Bow hunting? Well, Rook didn't consider themselves to be much of an outdoors person but ammo and food didn't buy themselves. Want to learn rock climbing? Sure, grappling hooks can be useful. Those ridiculous stunt courses some local hero set up? Why not!

It didn't take long for Rook to start traveling alone. They cleared entire outposts without alerting a soul. The missions turned into a twisted but soothing routine. First, survey the area, choke someone out, drag their body to a dark corner, loose an arrow at someone else, turn off the alarms, and call in the Resistance. Rook suspected that they'd need therapy after this violence but that inconvenient line of thought got pushed down with the longing.

Of course, the Seeds didn't let Rook do this undisturbed. Jacob called it 'playing soldier' and threw them into a red-tinted world of horror. Pratt, poor, downtrodden, equally broken Pratt, told them they shouldn't have come. Boy, did they believe it. Fleeing the north made sense. Faith pulled them into The Bliss twice. Images swirled in Rook's head. The Marshal's leap. Jackalopes. Joseph's Vision. The world covered in ashes. No, not ashes. Nuclear. Fucking. Fall. Out.

Oh Lord, the Great Collapse. 

They moved to into Holland Valley. It only took a few interrupted baptisms, complete with drowned VIPs, and exploded silos for John to take notice. Rook's own baptism came with Bliss sparkles and too little oxygen. They stopped drowning VIPs after their escape.

The people of Fall's End did great things to squash the longing. Welcoming folks, with warm flannel and lukewarm beer. Boomer, a trusty old dog, became Rook's constant companion. The Spread Eagle turned into a place that felt like home. Rook saw themselves fitting right in here, when the dust and gunpowder settled. Not a Montanan by blood or upbringing, but by sheer grit.

It all changed when John took Rook again. It should have been straight forward. Get out, preferably quietly, and get back to Fall's End and Boomer. Rook prepared to jump a man kneeling for prayer. Unfortunately, the longing had other plans. The prayer, a simple 'help me accept these people', struck deep. Despite the fact that these people were doing evil, this one man had nearly pure intentions. 

Rook didn't mean to cry. They went from a crouch to sitting awkwardly on the floor like a child.

The man startled and grabbed his baseball bat. "Hello?" Then, just like that, he was squatting in front of them. "Aren't you the Junior Deputy?"

Rook nodded once.

"My name is Eric. Is Rook your name or just something the sheriff's department calls you?"

"It's my first name, yeah. I picked it myself," they croaked.

Eric took a deep breath, straightened up, and offered his hand. "Let's get you back where you belong before John becomes too wrathful. You'll have to confess to trying to escape."

Rook nodded and followed behind Eric. They ignored the staring eyes of the other Peggies until they got back to the torture room. John came bursting through the door they were about to enter. "Brother John, I found Rook."

Rook watched, fascinated, as the televangelist facade slipped onto John's face. Before he could say anything, they blurted out, "My sin is Envy."

John smile turned dark. "Confessions are private, Brother Eric."

"Good luck, Rook." Rook stepped back into the blood soaked room with John. The door slammed and Rook flinched.

"We'll have to do this on the floor, Deputy, since you destroyed your chair. Sit."

Rook found a spot that was mostly dry and sat ungratefully. With their shirt collar ripped, the room felt cold. "What happens now?"

John knelt beside them with a roll of duct tape. "Legs out straight. I need to make sure you won't escape. You must reach Atonement."

Consenting to it all felt strange. John quickly cocooned Rook's legs in tape, like some redneck mermaid. Unlike Eric, there was no compassion or affection in John's eyes. He seemed excited as he moved his equipment to floor level. The light shined painfully in Rook's eyes. "This isn't meant to be comfortable. Let's start at the beginning."

"Well, I said my sin was Envy."

Rook should have expected the smack but it still stung.

"I mean your beginning, dear Deputy."

***

It took hours of punches, smacks, and swallow cuts for John to accept Rook's rather undramatic life story as truth. He examined everything for truth. Yes, their birthday really was Christmas. No, there's no deep reason why they aren't close to their retired parents anymore. Yes, they'd legally changed their name to Rook when they were 22 and stupid just because they wanted to. Weren't you a lawyer John? Those things are public record. Fuck, there wasn't even a noble reason they moved to Montana and joined the Sheriff's Department. It was just a job.  They were pretty confident they had never spoken about themselves that much. Everything hurt, seven their throat. Satisfied, John stood. "Now, why Envy?"

Through their sore throat, they whispered, "I envy the Project's sense of community." The room fell into a tense silence. Rook closed their eyes, expecting a kick. 

"Why is that a sin, Deputy?" Since they closed their eyes, they only felt John push the ripped fabric of their shirt aside and the tattoo gun buzz to life. "Come on now, open your eyes."

Rook didn't. "Because there's a community in Fall's End that isn't a brutal, murdering, doomsday cult?" The attempt at snark came out weak, with a questioning tone that turned into a painful cough.

"No, Deputy, try again. Surely you can figure it out." The buzzing temporarily stopped. "Hold still. It's not supposed to be only an E."

Rook took a deep breath to stop the coughing fit and raced through every impression they had of the cult and John. What did he want them to say? It was the truth. In those moments of profound loneliness, they could have gone to the jail, or the Whitetail Milita or talked to Father Jerome instead of the dog. As far as they could tell, it was an honest confession. They opened their eyes.

John sighed, then stood again, walking back his tool bench. "Deputy, Deputy, Deputy. Should we add pride as well?"

"Joseph does disappointed better than you." A familiar flash of anger crossed his features, like the moment he almost drowned them. Inspiration hit and the lie tumbled out. "I should have said yes. I could have turned myself in at any time. What I wanted was right there and I was too prideful to say yes. Instead, I fought against what I wanted."

"Are you going to say yes now, Deputy? Will you work towards Atonement?"

"Yes."

***

Rook came out of that bunker with three tattoos: Envy, Pride, and Wrath. John explained the last one for them. "You don't kill that many people without being fueled by anger, Deputy." They hadn't expected to come out at all. Waiting for the Collapse in a cell in an abandoned missile silo seemed fitting somehow. Yet, Joseph wanted to ensure a genuine conversion. Rook moved into the Invidia dorm on his little island with only a single radio announcement of their conversion.

Before returning to the island, Rook assumed Joseph's compound housed some of the elites. Instead, it housed everyday Peggies. Devout, yes, but they weren't major players. The only thing they seemed to have in common was a need for Joseph's direct attention. Many beds were empty. On duty elsewhere or dead, Rook didn't dare ask.

A certain familiarity coursed through the compound. Everyone knew everyone's name. Rook expected the Peggies to use all sorts of cruel nicknames for their newest convert but instead 'sibling' slipped out.

Like he did with most people, Joseph called Rook his child, and, more surprisingly, little lamb. Rook's role appeared to be following him, just like Mary's lamb. Rook wasn't extra security, even though they were trained. They weren't allowed weapons. Part of their conditions of atoning for wrath, according to John. Rook didn't understand why Joseph wanted them near. Part of them longed to know but it terrified them

By day three of prayers, sermons, and the random things like gardening, canning, and laundry, Joseph realized Rook wasn't speaking. The group that didn't have guard shifts were eating lunch. Most sat around a picnic table. Those with prominent Sloth tattoos stood. "I watched the play back of your confession, my child. Did I miss the part where you took a vow of silence?"

It took a moment for Rook to catch that he was teasing. "I--I'm sorry?" A rather unfortunate voice crack and a cleared throat later, they tried again. "I'm sorry. I've never been super talkative. I work alone, usually."

"You aren't alone now," a Peggie said. "You have us."

The words, the lie, slipped out naturally. The longing for it not to be a lie bubbled up but they squashed it. "And I'm thankful for it. I just need time to process this."

"Of course you do." Joseph's sympathetic smile seemed almost genuine.

Things fell into a routine. For two weeks, things stayed peaceful. Rook even let themselves smile and relax around Joseph and the cultists. Simple touches stopped making them flinch. Joseph let them work alone with the others while he prayed. Rook helped wherever they were needed. Weapons were still, regretfully, off limits. Rook understood why, but the lull in action made all the inconvenient thoughts simmer on the surface.

Then, Faith's body washed onto the compound's boat dock. An attempt to take the jail must have gone horribly wrong. Rook had to shut down the part of their brain that enjoyed investigation. Instead, they watched Joseph mourn. Joseph filmed the eulogy alone, just the two of them and a camera on tripod.

Rook stood awkwardly near the door of the Church. "My children, a seal has been open."

Rook quietly stepped outside the church, leaving Joseph to his broadcast. Sitting on the floor, or in this case, the ground, had become an unexpected past time. Rook at for as long as was reasonable and then returned to work.

No new Faith took the mantle but Rook briefly wondered if Joseph meant for them to take the job. He never broached the topic. Joseph withdrew, spending more and more time praying and fasting in the church. Rook made themselves indispensable around compound.

Rook consciously recognized the moment they started believing in the coming Collapse. While waiting for some freshly and taking a break in some shade, it dawned on them. The government didn't react to a Federal Marshal going missing or an entire county going off the map. Hope had decommissioned missile silos. Was that information declassified? Was Hope a target?

Joseph appeared seemingly from nowhere. "My child."

"Father. Forgive my sloth." Rook got to their feet.

"You see now."

"I do." It felt like another confession but they couldn't force out an apology. Something bad coming didn't excuse the kidnapping and murder. Their eyes went to the fence around the property. Despite the longing, they were technically a prisoner.

He did that strange forehead touch. "Child, I have news. Sheriff Whitehorse and Marshal Burke are dead. They were beyond saving."

"Oh." Rook blinked. They expected some inconvenient feelings but nothing came up. It was as if they'd been made blank. "I was only a Deputy for a few months, Father. And, this is an unchristian to say, forgive me, I didn't particularly like Burke. We'd only just met."

"I assumed they were your friends."

"No, Father." Rook didn't feel the need to explain further. "I didn't belong there."

"Do you see where you belong now?" Joseph asked.

"Here?" That longing, inconvenient as it was, surged. Shame came along with it. Murderers, kidnappers, thieves, and Rook wanted to be one of them. Although they would never admit it out loud, they'd been interested in the cult from the beginning.

"Yes, my child. This is your home."

Rook sank into the feeling, the longing finally gone.

[silhouetteofagirl]

Catalyst (from A Study in Synonyms)

A short story about how Sigyn totally fell hard and fast for Sigrun while still being madly in love with Alistair where time is wobbly and verb tenses don't matter. Again, briefly featuring a dog name the Lord of Farts.

Talk about a rare OT3.

Read On AO3

To any human or elf or spirit in a dead man’s body, for that matter, watching the two dwarves meet, they would have thought that they were old friends finally reunited.  For as soon as they had been able to parse what they were seeing, Sigyn had rushed into the fight with her daggers drawn.  It was contrary to her usual behavior, rushing headlong towards the darkspawn who were trying to recapture the other woman.  They had followed suit, of course, Justice bringing his great sword down and rending the hurlock grabbing at the woman nearly in two.  Once the other dwarf had regained her footing, she had joined Sigyn in attacking another.

They have never known the warden-commander to be cruel, but she tears the darkspawn with her daggers.  Later, she will tell Nathaniel that she prefers archery because it makes death a bit less personal, her daggers are only meant as a last resort and for those few personal kills she wishes to make.  Nathaniel will recall this fight and it will make sense, but for now, her brutality contrasts starkly with the woman who had killed a tainted human with as much mercy as she could manage when he had asked for relief.

The explanation that the two women new each other might explain her next actions as well.  When the last darkspawn falls with a gurgle, Sigyn is pulling off her helmet and grabbing the other dwarf by her shoulders.

“You’re alright.  I’ve got you, sister.” she says, her low voice is panicked.  “They won’t—”

“They got the whole legion! I was the only one who escaped—”

“Women?”

“Yes.”

“Ancestors take their souls.”

“And quickly.”

The exchange is rushed and the other dwarf removes her helm as well.  They bear the same brand on their faces, but hers is littered with tattoos.  There’s a moment of silence between them where they just look.  They contrast each other, Sigyn is dark with her chin-length hair and tanned skin.  Aside from her brand, the only markings on her skin are the faint holes where jewelry goes when she’s not fighting.  The stranger is fair with clear blue eyes and her dark hair is pulled back into small ponytails.  Whatever they see in the other, it seems to reassure them because then the other dwarf is cradling Sigyn’s head between her hands and Sigyn rests her forehead against hers.

“They won’t get you and if they do, I would give you a swift death should they try to turn you.” Sigyn words are spoken firmly and solemnly.

“Thank you.  I would try to return the favor.” She replies.  Then they part and the moment is over.  A look of comprehension crosses her face and she smiles, “Hey, you’re the duster who became the warden!”

“Better than dust town.” she shrugs and wipes off her daggers.

“I know a man who would give his teeth for your signature.”

“Teeth aren’t that valuable.  Don't know if I should be offended or complimented.” Sigyn frowns at a thought.  “Unless you’re using the teeth as a base for the upper castes…”

The other dwarf nods in confirmation.  “Doesn’t matter, though.  They won’t want to see me back.”

“Legion?”

“Yeah, these darkspawn are—”

“Wait, do you two know each other?” Anders can’t seem to contain himself as he butts into the conversation.

“Oh, stone! I’m Sigyn Brosca.” she holds out her arm.

The other dwarf grasps her forearm and her smile makes Sigyn fight a blush, “Sigrun.  Though now that you are a warrior caste, you sure you want to be touching a duster like me?”

Sigyn rolls her eyes and squeezes her arm, “I’m still a brand, and worse, a surfacer.  Besides, in Legion your caste means nothing.”

“I suppose that’s true.  Still, you can’t blame me.  You’re a hero.” Sigrun laughs at Sigyn’s grimace.  Then they let go of each other.  Sigyn quickly makes introductions, though Justice takes a few moments to explain.

“But he looks like—”

“I know, but reanimated corpse, not—”

“Corpse walking.”

“Yeah,” Once whatever clarification had just been made, Sigrun tells her story to the crew.

Much later, when Sigyn is curled up with Alistair and shakily telling him about how much she loves Sigrun, he’ll comment that it seems to him that it was almost love at first sight, “or should I say first fight?” She will groan and punch him lightly in the stomach.  He’ll moan in mock pain, but then she will straddle his lap and kiss him senseless.  Alistair will feel just as cherished as the woman his love is describing.

They push into the darkspawn breeding grounds, leaving Nathaniel behind to travel back to Vigil’s Keep.  “I need you to live, Nathaniel.  You are best suited of all of us to run the Keep.” Sigyn tells him softly as they prepare to chase after the lost legion.

“What’s Vigil’s Keep?” Sigrun asks as Nathaniel leaves them.

“The humans gave me my own fortress if you can believe it.” Sigyn laughs humorlessly.  “Keep trying to make me get to judge all these human affairs.  Me, a duster, being asked should we hang a man who stole some grain so he could feed his family.”

Sigrun’s blue eyes widen and she scoffs, “Really? Ancestor’s beards.”

“Keep telling people I’m a duster, not the best equipped to judge, at least not in the way they want me to.”  Talk becomes scarce after that as they find a survivor of the Legion, crawling away from the old taig.

Their mood is tense and somber, even Anders keeps his commentary to a minimum.  Eventually, he will piece together what had caused their fearless commander to jump at shadows.  And when he does, he will understand why both Sigyn and Sigrun murmur a quick blessing when they drop the lyrium bomb onto the nest of brood mothers and their clutch.

There isn’t a lot of time for Sigrun to fully settle at Vigil’s Keep.  In fact, there isn’t even time for her to complete the joining before Amaranthine is being sieged, but there is enough time for her to marvel at the place.  It’s not that Sigyn has gotten used to Vigil’s Keep and its splendor, it’s more that she can’t stop looking at it as a project.  Sigrun, however, can see the marvels and experience the wonder Sigyn can’t.

“I’ve never seen so many books in my life!” she exclaims at one of the many alcoves of books that are littered about the fortress.

“That isn’t even all of them.  We have a full library.  It’s just a mess after the explosion.  You can read them if you like.  I mean, if you were taught.”

“Only recently, but I did learn! Varlan, a legion squad mate, helped me.  Just had the one book.” A sad look crosses her face, “Didn’t think I’d outlive him…”

“Tell me about him?” she asks softly.

“There’s not much to say.  He wanted to die in battle, in glory.” her voice catches and Sigyn places a hand on her shoulder.

“It sounds like he got what he wanted.”

If Sigrun sniffles while looking at books so her face is turned, that’s her prerogative.  In the future, Sigyn will wipe tears away as she cries freely and Sigrun will return the favor.

But now Sigrun inhales sharply and says, “Yeah, he did, I guess.” Sigrun quickly wipes her eyes and turns to smile at Sigyn.  “What about you? You need lessons?”

“No,  I’m not great at reading, but my sister taught me the basics.” At Sigrun’s quirked eyebrow, she nods and leans against the opposite side of the book nook.  “Noble hunter, so she was worth teaching.  When we had a quiet moment, she would teach me.  But I got a lot better when I reached the surface.  Once it got out that I was barely proficient at reading, Alistair got me a few books and carried them.  Morrigan helped me the most though, it was easier reading with her.  If she judged me, she didn’t let me know.”

“You mention him a lot, this Alistair.” Sigrun has turned back to the bookshelves and is looking through them.  She’s been pulling out books, skimming the covers, and putting them back.  “Hm… there seems to be a lot of books about mabari war hounds.  Huh, what’s this?” Sigrun opens the book and quickly closes shut with a snap and a blush.  “Oh, that is a romance.  I dunno what an antivan milk sandwich is but— Aren’t we talking about something else? This Alistair fellow?”

Sigyn laughs softly and looks pensively as Sigrun continues on her search.  “Alistair’s mine.  He’s a fellow grey warden, very sweet and funny.  He always knows how to cheer me up or just offer comfort when I need it.  He’s actually one of the first humans I befriended when I hit the surface.”

“He’s human? Is he at least a short one?” Sigrun glances over her shoulder at the warden who is worrying a plain gold band around her finger.

Sigyn flushes scarlet and shakes her head, “Ah, no.  He’s actually quite tall.  This is beside the point.  I’m okay at reading, but not the best.  My writing is terrible, I will be forever grateful for Nathaniel.  He, at least, knows how to do this whole noble aspect of being an arl and his handwriting is beautiful.”

“Nathaniel is tall,” Sigrun says conversationally as she puts another book back into the shelf.

Sigyn stammers, “Alistair is taller and Nathaniel is lovely, but no.”

Sigrun cracks a grin, “I kid.  Just wondering if you like… height or if you are also open to folks more on your level.” Sigyn is still blushing as Sigrun gives another cursory glance at a book.  “Oh, this book looks interesting! It’s about human lore, maybe I’ll be able to understand more of their turns of phrase.  Anyway, Commander, don’t let me keep you.”

In the not too distant future, when Alistair comes to Vigil’s Keep unannounced to surprise Sigyn, he’ll meet Sigrun first.  She’ll be carrying a small pile of books, out of her armor with her hair released from its usual ponytails.  She will be the only person he can find this late in the night.  He, on the other hand, will be worn from the road and holding a very enthusiastic Lord of Farts who wants nothing more than to explore this new location.

“Pardon me,” Alistair will ask “do you know where I can find the Warden-Commander?”

She’ll look surprised and adjust the pile of the books so they rest on her hip, “Oh, didn’t no one tell you?”

“Tell me what?”  Alistair will note the expression of worry flicker across her face.  Trepidation will climb into his chest with icy fingers.  It had been a while since Sigyn’s last letter, but he knows just how long it takes her to write one.  He hadn’t been worried about the gap, especially since she had reported the death of the broodmother, until now.

“She’s sick and isn’t allowed to see anyone. Herbalist’s orders, not that she’s listening to them very well or keeping her from doing work.”  Sigrun will shake her head fondly.

Relief will flood him and he’ll chuckle, “That sounds exactly like Sigyn.  One time she got sick and we happened to be resting out at an inn.  One of the few times we spent any significant time in a town, but despite the fact she was exhausted, she adamant we leave.  Didn’t even listen to Wynne’s instance that she give herself time, but then I started to sneeze, hazard of sharing a bed, and then she was alright with spending a few days resting. Thank the Maker, I thought I was going to have to sit on her and I’m much heavier than she is.”  He’ll notice about halfway through his rambling story the look of comprehension on her face and raise an eyebrow at her.

“Stone, she wasn’t kidding about the tall part.” She’ll mutter to herself.  She’ll then perk up and smile at him, “I’m Sigrun. You must be Alistair.”

“Ah yes, I should have known. Your tattoos are very nice.” His next words will be hesitant as he won’t be sure what to make of Sigrun in this moment, “Did she mention me?”

In a moment, much, much later from this future moment, she will admit to him that she was trying to not resent him.  But nevertheless, in this moment, she will laugh softly, “Of course she mentioned you.  I was just going to take these books to her, walk with me.  But yes, while she’s reserved, it’s kinda hard to miss with how she blushes and worries that ring of hers. I just usually only get tall as a descriptor of you before she’s blushing too much to continue.”

“That sounds entirely unlike her. I’m the blusher.” he will say.

“Really? Maybe I’m just good at making her blush.”  In that same much, much later future, he will admit that this is when he started to feel the pangs of jealousy.  She’ll be surprised to hear that as it was clear to her just how thoroughly in love Sigyn was with him.  But before Sigrun can respond, Sigyn will sit straight up in bed, look at them blearily, and ask a question.  It will make absolutely no sense as she is still asleep.  They will tell her in unison to go back to bed.  She will then pout and her next sentence will make a modicum more of sense.  They will share a look and a smile.  Alistair will help pull Sigrun to her feet so they can crawl into bed with her just so Sigyn will lie back down.

But this time when they enter her room, there will be no greeting, no garbled language, just Sigyn asleep in a chair by the fire with paperwork scattered on the ground around her.  Sigrun will sigh fondly and put down the stack of books on the cluttered desk while Alistair will be frozen for a few moments looking at the woman he loves.  While he is temporarily paralyzed, Sigrun will gather the paperwork from the ground and place it on top of the books.

“Thank the ancestors she’s finally asleep.” She’ll murmur to Alistair as she makes to leave the room. She’ll give Sigyn a wistful look and then inform Alistair where she can be found should they need anything.  He’ll nod numbly and she’ll close the door behind them.

Then Alistair will suddenly be able to move again and he will command the Lord to sit and be calm.  Then he’ll cross to her sleeping form and just watch her.  Her nose is pink, her mouth is open, and she’s drooling slightly.  Alistair will still have to fight tears at seeing her for the first time in almost a year.  When he pushes her hair behind her near, she’ll stir a bit but remain asleep.  He will smile both at her and the row of earrings revealed, still defiant to high society’s standards even when sick.

He’ll press a kiss to her forehead and murmur soothing words as he gently lifts her so he can carry her to bed.  Sigyn will surface just enough to ask in a scratchy voice, “Alistair?”

“Yes, my dear.” He’ll reply as he puts her on the bed.

She’ll hum and mutter, “This is a nice dream.”  His heart will clench as she then snuffles and curls onto her side.

Then he’ll strip out of his travel clothes and pat the foot of the bed so the Lord of Farts will know he is welcome.  Alistair will, finally, crawl into bed with her and pull the covers over the both of them.  He will marvel that even after all this time, she curls into his warmth and how well she fits into his arms.  Silent tears will fall down his face as he presses a kiss into her shoulder and she lets out a small snore.  Eventually, he will fall asleep and in a few hours he will wake up to a very sick and very confused Sigyn.  Despite her croaked warnings, he will kiss her thoroughly and enjoy the proceeding week of sickness as an excuse to stay in bed with her.  But that is not now.

Now there is horde of darkspawn attacking Amarinthe and Sigrun is giving her a reassuring smile.  She’ll die for the cause of the Legion and, by extension, the Grey Wardens; however, Sigyn cannot shake the feeling that Sigrun will die for her.  The warden commander will take her newest and most enthusiastic recruit with her as they go to save the city and hopes it will not cost her life.  They barely know each other now, but something about Sigrun’s honest wonder makes Sigyn’s breath catch and her soul ache.  Given the chance, she could fall in love with Sigrun’s sincerity and, eventually, she will.

[savvywriting]

The Time of a Healer

Hey there. This is a story I wrote for my creative writing class, enjoy!

January 4th, 2017

I was used to staring at the floor by now. I seemed to be able to hide myself by memorizing the dents and scratches on the school’s tiled floor. I’d like to believe that by keeping my head down I was invisible. Of course, that’s not realistic. I’m still found. Her voice slashes my view away from the school’s shoe base. When I say “her” I refer to the vain of my existence, the one person whose words are equivalent to being stoned with rocks.

Kata.  

           She’s the bully loved by many. Kata somehow tears down my self-esteem on a schedule, but is still applauded for her stellar grades, and above beyond volunteer hours. You’d think that someone with that royal level of popularity would have something better to do than verbally shred me like an expired license. She’s always able to make a window of time for me. She’s able to because I’m me. Julia Azar. Julia whose skin under her eyes are darker than a haunted house on Halloween. Julia who’s not seen for her talents, but for her small physical abnormality pointed out by the champion of beauty at school. Julia Azar is the girl who’s under eye skin resembles a night sky without stars.

           “Do you just not sleep or something?” Kata laughs, “or are you clumsy enough to get two black eyes?” Her words move the tectonic plate layered in my brains, resulting in a violent shake of my confidence.

           Later on, my mom finds me in a fort of self-hate. The mirror in my ballerina pink room is covered with a bedsheet, and I’m reading a magazine article on painting my face with concealer. Her soft drum beat of her footsteps becomes louder, and somewhere in my mind I register it. Though, I am too engrossed in a feeling of familiar failure to react. My mom’s French manicure grabs the teen-beauty-heartthrob-collage of words from me. I’d say my reaction of teenage annoyance is valid.

            My mom is always the person who I come to, and she still manages her composure. She’s always so strong for other people, therefore my hero. Yes, my mom is my hero.

           Her eyes bounce to the magazine article, the concealer in my hand, and then to me. Only now there’s something new sparkling in her eyes, and I can’t decide if I like it or not.

           “We need to discuss something” her eyes announce with the words dancing in her exhale of breath. I don’t think I like this new gaze.

           My mom sits me down and over the next hour I realize that my family is either certifiably insane, or thinks I’m very gullible. My mother says that according to my genetics my dark under eye circles makes me some kind of ancient healer. This type of healer tends to injuries and emotional damage of those hurt in selfless acts. If this was true, I’d basically be a mythical badass. Sadly, I think my mother is doing some weird analogy to make me feel better; deeper truth to trigger confidence. Throughout my mother explaining my glorifying Lebanese heritage she sees my expression of continuing disbelief.

           Finally, she sighs out “I understand you think I’m lying to you,” I let out an eye roll, “but you’ll see the truth tomorrow.” I’m then wrapped in a comforting awkwardly positioned hug. I’m separated from the loving embrace as my mom lightly walks out of my room, closing the door behind her.

           Hours later, I’m staring at my ceiling. It’s funny how at school I look down, but I end the day looking up. With my tranquilizing floral duvet neatly creased around me, my pillow opens my dreams.

           I feel the light on my eyelids before they open. I feel the hot sun resting on my skin. I feel the warmth dancing through my bones. I do my typical morning routine of procrastinating through thoughts to opening my eyes. As I think I realize that my room is always cold in the morning. Anxious curiosity tears my vision open.

Horror seeps around me as I realize this is not my room.

I’m covered in a light cotton sheet, now sitting up on an oak bed. As my vision focuses I see that the room I’m in is covered in patterned curtain like fabrics. If I wasn’t horrified, I’d probably recognize the beauty of the room. However, I am terrified. Suddenly over aware of every one of my senses, hear feel a gush of wind and the quiet sound of someone walking in through the curtain.

“Hi Julia” a soft yet confident voice says as I sharply whip my head around. It’s a young woman speaking, she can’t be older than nineteen. Her stained oak hued hair goes to her shoulders of the small frame. A stormy sky gray contrasting silk and linen dress covers her lightly tanned body. What I notice most is her face. What I notice immediately is that under her dazzlingly shaped hazel eyes are darkly tinted skin. That’s a first to see, I think. Despite her peculiarity of a facial feature, she is absolutely beautiful.

“I’m assuming you’re confused” she smiles. I slowly nod my head, unable to have the paralyzing intimated thoughts roll off my tongue.

“I’m Beth,” she begins “I know your mother told you the story of your eyes last night. I don’t blame you for not believing her, it sounds like a prank a first.” No kidding. “I can tell you’re putting the piecing in your head together right now” Beth kindly humors, “Your mother told you the truth. You’re a healer, you have abilities to make the world a stronger and loving place. You can heal the heroes, you’re a true gift.”

“I’m really overwhelmed” I’m able to admit. I can admit it, because despite the insanity of the situation I feel so right­.

“I’ll tell you what’s going on, and then you ask away,” Beth sits on the bed I’ve unknowingly occupied “although I doubt you’ll have any questions. Our girls rarely do.”

She speaks swiftly yet comfortingly now. “You’re currently here with eleven other girls, two mentors, and I –the guide. We’re all bound together by our spirit, physically shown through our under eyes. Outside this structured tent is a hidden dessert. We’re invisible to the outside world and provided with everything we need. Despite the climate surrounding us, you’ll never be too hot, or too cold for that matter. Starting today, you’ll be learning how to capture your gifts and control them to heal our patients. When you’re training here is complete, you can choose to go home or travel where needed as an official healer. Training usually lasts eight days. Any questions now?”

Despite the confusion that an outsider may acknowledge, I have no questions. It’s almost is I’ve always known this, and I just got a refresher.

So I shake my head, feeling my lips tug up while doing so. Beth back beams at me.

I’m then given a small tour of the site and introduced to the rest of the group. After I’m given an identical outfit to Beth and all the others, the training begins.

The training hasn’t been brutal. In many narratives, the protagonist will talk about how much harder the training is than they would ever expect. At first I was mildly concerned that I would be put in a situation that I couldn’t handle, but that didn’t happen. I’ve been here for six days now, and so far everything has come naturally to me. Every tradition and ritual has easily floated through me, empowering me. For the first time in so long, I’m not thinking about my appearance. Instead I’m thinking about who I am on the inside, and how I have a purpose.

I actually feel beautiful, which is why I’m making the decision to continue my work as a healer.

I’m now sitting with Beth and the two mentors, Roan and Maxine. Around me are curtains similar to the ones in the tent I woke up in. Fascinating patterns that leave me curious are blowing towards me by the presence of the wind. Everything feels so right.

“Today we’ll be discussing your test, should you pass the journey of healing may begin” Maxine addresses. Maxine had the darkest shade of red hair, and always sported a new henna tattoo every day. Roan had long wavy sandy blonde hair running down her back, and had her always had her nails painted. The nail polish reminds me of my mom back at home. I’ve noticed that I’m seeing people for more than just their under eyes. I see so much more in people, which I pride.

“This will test your ability to heal both mind and body, and use will power in your emotions” Maxine finishes.

“There are some girls who are unable to complete this test, it is extremely difficult” Roan warns.”

“I’ll do my best,” I smile through my anxiety.

“Julia your test is to heal the spirit of Kata Anderson,” Maxine’s voice cuts through my newly found confidence. I’m gazed at with empathy by the three women in the room.

“Julia, your final test is to be selfless to someone who has been selfish” Beth informs me calmly.

“She’s the reason I hated my appearance a week ago” I find myself whispering, horrified.

“She has been horrible to you, we know” Roan tells me softly, “but the true value of a healer is being able to help anyone and everyone.”

“Julia, she has problem which will be releveled.” Beth says quietly as she lightly squeezes my shaking hand, “if you help her you will become a healer.”

I take deep breath full of knowledge and nod my head, feeling insecurity resurface.

 I’m sitting on a bench in a park. I think it’s kind of funny, because so many event happen at parks in stories. A first kiss, a heart to heart, friends making up, slow walks, playgrounds… it just keeps going. This however is none of that. What’s about to happen is not the Disney land fireworks of a first kiss, or romantic comedy where you run into an old love. This is going to be a forced interaction of misery. I don’t even know why I’m here, but I’m here. I’m here sitting on a wooden bench breathing the crisp Sunday morning air, and I’m waiting.

Time ticks and steadily continues, and so does the waiting. I’m watching a toddler playing with her mother. She’s dressed in an outfit she obviously picked out herself, and can’t be more than three. Her father is pushing her on the swing, calling her beautiful princess, while her mother takes pictures with her phone. The little girl’s giggles and squeals surround my mind, reminding me of my family dinners. The dinners filled with laughter and horrible puns about food, the rare time when I don’t think about my appearance.

I’m still contently watching the family dynamic when my eyes focus in on Kata sitting on a similar bench watching the scene too. Only while I have a small smile on my lips, she has small tears on her cheek. Kata’s face is blotchy like kid’s painting experimenting with reds. Small dots of mascara dot under her lower eyelashes, and her blonde hair is limply falling past her back. For the first time ever, she doesn’t look like the arrogant yet loveable perfect student. She’s not on her perfect stand, instead Kata’s on a bench crying.

The hardest part is forcing myself to stand up. My bones are trying to glue me to the wood, and my brain is screaming “DANGER”. Somehow though, once I start walking it becomes easier. The same feeling that happens when I’m in the secluded desert while I’m healing overcomes. Before I know it, I’m sitting on the bench with her.

Kata looks at me, and for a half second looks as if she’ll throw an insult at my face, but she doesn’t. Instead she speaks in small curiously quivering voice.

“Where were you last week?”

I wasn’t expecting that. Why would the sun of the solar system notice a small ring around Saturn?

“I was visiting somewhere I might be moving to soon” I half-truth.

           Kata’s eyes grow as big as the Grinch’s heart.

           “You’re moving?” she asks, shocked.

           “Well yeah, I mean maybe.” My mind is swimming in more confusing waters now.

           “But if you move… what will I do?” her voice is in a whisper, more to herself than me.

           Here it is, what might help me pass my test and be rid of her forever, “What’s going on?”

           I expect her to darkly laugh or roll her eyes. Instead she looks over at the playground family, who are now beginning to walk away. The girl on her father’s back and the mother throwing her head back in laughter off of something that was said.

           “I’ve never had something like that before,” gesturing towards them “my mom still has to approve my outfits.”

           “Why?” I ask, my voice now expressing my confusion.

           “Appearance is everything, my family lives by that. My appearance never seems to match up though.”

           “But Kata, I mean… you’re perfect.”

           Now she lets out a dark laugh, but it’s quieter than expected. Honestly the laugh resembles an ironic chuckle. Kata doesn’t respond to that verbally, instead shaking her head once while a few salty tears make their way down her face.

           My shock is wearing off and I’m able to say something that has more than a ‘W’ word.

           “I think you’re beautiful,” I start off softly as she continues looking at the playground, “I mean everyone does… If anything I’ve envied you for years.”

           Kata’s head stays bowed but she whispers “That was the point.”

           “Wait-what?” I find myself saying out loud instead of in my head.

           “I wanted someone to be jealous of me, to think that highly of me,” Kata looks at me before she continues, “You were shy and seemed insecure, I thought a jab or two might boost my confidence. And well- it did. The way you’d look at me like I was above you, it made me feel beautiful when nothing else did. I guess I got a little carried away, and before I knew it middle school and most of high school had gone by. It went by so fast, too fast.”

           I don’t know what I feel, let alone what to respond. Is this real?

           “God,” Kata throws her head back in a groan, “I don’t even know why I’m telling you this! We’ve never even had an actual conversation.”

           Right then and there I’m hit with an odd type of energy, like I know exactly what to say. So I say it. “I’ve recently made some new friends who’ve helped me realize that life has so much more to offer than looks. When I surround myself with people like that, I feel unstoppable.” I say honestly. “And you have so much more than your looks. Maybe that what your family thinks comes first, but it’s not. The teacher’s like you because you’re a good student and volunteer a lot, other kids like you because your funny and just likeable. I mean even after the stuff you’ve said to me, I can’t help but like you,” I chuckle, “pretty weird.”

           Kata then lets out a laugh, the same genuine one you can hear from across the cafeteria.

“People really think that?”

           “I wouldn’t say it if it wasn’t true” I laugh back, “it’s not like I owe you anything.”

           Then Kata looks at me, not in the judgmental eye glance way. In a humanizing big eyed childlike way.

           “I never thought you were ugly, to be honest I didn’t think about you in a physical appearance way at all. Just a selfish intention on my part.” She admits.

           My ears ring at those words. “Just remember that there’s a lot about you other than you’re looks, and you’ll be just fine.”

           Kata smiles at me,

           I smile back.

  It’s not until later that I realize that I had done my job, I healed. I didn’t even notice I was doing healing either, it all just happened. I know I can go back to my mom, back to school, back to Kata, and things would be different. Now though, that’s just not my home. My home is where my gifts are needed, and there’s nothing left for me in a building for eight hours a day. As I’ve told my mentors, it’s time for me to move on.

           I’m ready to start my new voyage through the waters of change.