#the ancestor's scales

[acronym49]

Sunny Appreciation time

(rambling about my wof headcannons in tags below!)

[twinsunsintatooine]

idgaf if this is cringe or if yall hate sai but no chances actually fucking eats im not sorry

[fenharel-archived]

VALERIA "VAL" DE LA TORRE. my mc from disenchanted if in these picrews x, x.

draca / glamoured

[lagosbratzdoll]

Oh, isn't it just delightful how Daenerys is painted as a whiny, self-important murderer simply for daring to fight against the heinous practice of slavery? But of course, in the very same breath, I’m hearing impassioned defences of upstanding citizens like Aegon the Usurper and Aemond the Kinslayer. Because nothing says “honourable” like usurping a throne and slaying your own kin, am I right?

Daenerys is entitled for wanting to go home, the Starks are not, despite wanting the exact same thing. Oh, and Daenerys must pay for the wickedness of her ancestors, but the Starks don't need to pay for theirs. She must die because the Targaryens are the most despicable family in Westeros.

After all, Aegon the Conqueror conquered Westeros, but the First Men, Andals, and Rhoynar did not. Obviously, the Starks never committed any genocidal acts – they simply asked nicely for the land they built their castles on, and those who sing the song of the earth retreated into the forest of their own free will. It definitely had nothing to do with being hunted to the brink of extinction.

And as for the Warg King and his family? I mean, maybe the Warg King and his sons and his greenseers and his beasts just conveniently dropped dead, and perhaps his daughters married the kings of winter because it was true love. These were surely happy marriages and not a case of killing the man and his sons and taking his daughters as prizes.

[mewkwota]

*Overdramatically tosses a Holy Water at you*

I like this pose too, but that body bend was unsurprisingly a challenge. And no matter what, Simon has to do that little dainty thing with his hand (I told you I am not hallucinating, also it's cute).

[nanamismoonchild]

the ancestor's scales (part 2 chapter 1) - disaster at the wedding

→ pairing: dragon prince! namjoon x dragon princess!poc OC

 → genre/au: fantasy, royalty au, smut, fluff, humor, soulmates au, explores a little of African/Korean mythology 

→ summary: Isador's hand has been won by none other than Namjoon. Now weddings bells are ringing and she has to walk down the aisle.

 → rating: 18+

→wc:2.9k

→warnings: mentions of not eating, edibles, poison mention, fainting

→ author’s note: the banner is by the lovely @eerieedits​ !  i finally have come to my senses and am going to see this story through. plus i missed isador and namjoon. :D

read it on ao3

Halim was panicking. 

The desserts had already been served and, so far, everyone had eaten their delicious pastries. Except, Halim had messed up with one of the key ingredients for the brownies. 

Ndaque was beside them, ushering anyone with a brownie in their hand to toss it into trash she had grabbed. 

Out of the corner of her mouth, she chastised them. “How even do you get cannabis mixed with chocolate?!”

Halim quickly wiped the sweat from their brow, “It was a new strand I was testing. I mixed the, uh, herb into some chocolate to test…”

“You know what, I don’t want to hear anymore,” she glanced over to the rest of the desserts that were leaving the tables quickly. “I think I managed to stop anyone from eating your dumb brownies. You’re lucky this is only the reception and not the wedding.”

Halim nodded quickly and headed off to make another batch of brownies, but, this time, Ndaque followed them to make sure the chocolate was chocolate. She hoped she would still have time to peek in on Isador before the wedding knowing her friend would need the extra pick-up. However, thanks to Halim, she would have to put it off for later. 

Isador was a nervous wreck. The soft piano and booming drums was the signal for her to begin the imaginative long trek down the rose carpet.  

A million different scenarios ran through her mind. What if she tripped over the unnecessarily long dress? What if she burped or farted? Or what if her stomach decided to protest against her and made a rumbling sound that those in Drogan could hear? She hadn’t been able to attend the reception as she had been occupied with getting her hair and dress on. She was starving. The sunflowers in her hands were looking like a tasty treat. 

It didn’t help matters that practically the entirety of dragon-kind had found its way inside the enormous venue for the wedding of Prince Namjoon and Princess Isador.  There were bound to be thousands of eyes on her as she walked.  The only solace she would have would be that the roof had been completely removed for the most important part of the wedding and she would be able to breathe in cool air. 

You only need to focus on mine, Isa, came the smooth voice in her head. Namjoon, her soon to be betrothed. 

For the past few weeks, the two of them had explored their telepathic communication with one another. They found that no matter how many times Isador raised her wall–Namjoon could still speak with her.  And they found that it didn’t matter how many miles were between them. They could still communicate with one another. 

It had been a little unsettling as she wasn’t used to anyone being in her head, but it had become comfortable as Namjoon only used it to comfort her when she needed it. 

Right. I can do this. 

Of course you can. 

She smiled to herself, feeling her face warm. 

Isador took a deep breath and nodded to the guard, who had been watching her hesitation with amusement, to tell him to open the door.

As he opened the wide brass doors, she tightly clutched the bouquet of sunflowers and forced herself to find the man waiting for her at the altar. 

Namjoon smiled at her as they made eye-contact. 

You’re gorgeous. 

You’re not bad-looking yourself. 

In fact, he was looking as handsome as ever. 

He was dressed in the traditional clothing of Seoul: a lilac hanbok with a white trim.  His hair had been cut short into an undercut. His smile was huge as he watched her walk towards him.  He looked a lot more comfortable than her with his loose robes.  

The dress was designed for a princess becoming a Queen. A sheer top with golden embroidery had been seamed into a royal purple ball gown that flounced as she moved. Her hair had been picked out so that her afro sat high on her head. The makeup had been kept light. She couldn’t have felt prettier. But with the amount of people in this room, the dress was stiflingly hot and she felt that one wrong move and her heels would snatch onto the veil that trailed behind her and she’d bowl straight onto the altar. 

The crowd around them bowed as she passed each row. She kept herself looking forward, pretending that it was the only two of them. Easier said than done. They hadn’t been alone together in a long time between planning the wedding and being told not to be alone together. 

You’re almost here. 

The man was practically bouncing on his heels, and looked as if he wanted to rush down, scoop her up, and rush her to the altar. But he had to wait. 

The Walk of the Queen was the most important part of the wedding. It signified that Isador had been on a journey of experiences into her queendom. That’s what the grandmothers had told her anyway. It really felt like a sorry excuse to justify the long walk. 

Another two minutes marked the end of the journey and the piano player switched a low tune.  Namjoon smiled widely at Isador and bowed. She did the same before giving him the bouquet of sunflowers–a gift at the altar.  He offered her a small box of chocolate that he knew she had been eyeing. 

“Now that the wedding gifts have been given, I will begin the process of marrying the new Queen and King of Gailan,” the officiator, Kila, said. She was an old friend of the family who had been officiating their marriages since Isador’s grandmother’s Harriet’s wedding. She couldn’t miss the granddaughter’s wedding.  

“Kim Namjoon, Second Prince of Seoul, is to be crowned King of Gailan.  Isador Mileis Abioye, First Princess of Gailan, is to be crowned Queen of Gailan.  Does anyone believe this is not to be?”

No one raised their hand or said a word. Everyone agreed with it. 

“The union of Seoul and Gailan will bring about a new turn of dragon-kind. The Queens of Gailan have married one each from each province. We will gain new wealth and knowledge from this unification!”

A small cheer came from the back of the room. 

“But today! We celebrate a union of affection and commitment in two people who were determined to meet and love.  So I ask that you both please join hands and look at each other and find that love that you have.”

Namjoon moved so quickly in his excitement that he pulled Isador into his arms in an accidental hug. A short bout of laughter came from the audience and herself.  

Blushing, he gave her a quick apology and placed his hands in hers. 

Found the love yet?

Isador focused on his eyes. They were soft and held more than she could possibly put into words. 

Of course.

"Do you, Kim Namjoon, take Isador to be your wedded wife, your Queen? From this day forward, to have and to hold, for better, for worse, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do you part?"

“I do.”

“Do you, Isador Abioye, take to be your wedded husband, your King ? From this day forward, to have and to hold, for better, for worse, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do you part?”

“I do.”

Two people carrying pillows with the crowns nervously scurried over. The person with the King’s Crown settled beside Isador, and the one with the Queen’s crown placed themselves by Namjoon. 

“Instead of rings, we shall use crowns. Please take the respective crowns and place them on the head.” 

Kila nodded for Isador to go first. She had to fight the nerve to wipe her sweaty palms on her dress. 

Picking up the crown, she noticed that it had an emerald placed at the head. Her own father’s crown had an amethyst. In fact, she saw many differences between the two. While her father’s had been a rich golden with the ends being pointed like a sword’s, Namjoon’s was silver ash and was rounded flat with flowers etched into the metal.  

This fits you. 

I sure hope it does. 

Stifling another giggle, she motioned for Namjoon to bend down so she could place it on his head. When he did, she began to recite the vows she had memorized. 

“We’ve only known each other for only a couple of months. However, I think we’ve found something that only the tales in Graele’s books can explain. You used to be a thorn in my side, but I truly believe that thorn was a part of a rose bush.  A lot of annoyance to get to the thing that I needed. I truly hope that our love can bloom as the years pass by.”

Her face warmed as she finished. It was short and sweet, but it captured exactly how she felt about Namjoon.  She did love him. They had come to be each other’s support in a short time. 

Namjoon was told to do the same as Isador.  Her crown was tall and adorned with flowers instead of crystals. Rose petals, baby’s breath, periwinkles, and daisies were wired together on a simple white metal.  As he placed the flower crown on her head, he recited, “You’re my person, you’re my desire, you’re my pride, you’re my everything. I couldn’t imagine this moment being with someone else. I know it took you a while to feel the same way about me. However, I do believe we were meant to be. Call it fate or destiny.  You’re my love. My soulmate.”

The room became at least ten degrees hotter with all the warmth that was spreading through her body.  Her words looked plain and simple next to his poetry.  

She was his everything. 

And he was her everything.  

In only a few short months, he had invaded her every thought. Quite literally.  She loved the moments where they could sneak a moment’s breath with each other and learn about each other. 

She inwardly chastised herself for not speaking to them allowed, before chastising herself again for thinking that. She wanted to save the special words for when they were alone together. 

Come out of your head Princess. We still have a few more things to do before we’re alone.

Ughhh. 

Turning back to the wedding, she heard Kali saying the last of her speech, “And here we stand in gratified content to celebrate a new decade of a Queen and King whose marriage shall go into the history books in infamy.  Please,” she gestured towards the crowd, “change into your dragon and let us sing our song as the new King and Queen fly high into the blue sky.”  

Isador let Namjoon help her out of the dress (she didn’t want to ruin it when she changed) then she helped him. Nudity in the dragon world was only a myth.  

She felt the familiar stretch of her muscles as they elongated and were sewn together as her form began to change. It was like taking off two layers of clothing once you got home. Her dragon form was much nicer to be in than her human. 

She soared into the sky with the intention of being higher than the elevated peak of the mountains.  It was an important part of the cultures of all provinces to do this. They honored both the legacy of Gayle and Arushi. Honor what was given to protect them and continues to protect them.  Flying higher than the peak before marriage signified vulnerability.  Anyone could see them from that height. 

Humans who just so happened to be passing by could see them. 

Today, Isador hoped that, like the rest of the married couples, she would see nothing but crystal blue waters. After being attacked by a human arrow that was poisoned, she wished that was the end of that. Just a one off incident. 

Jimin was down there monitoring open areas. She didn’t know how the grandmothers expected a human without magic to be in multiple places at the same time. Somehow he managed.  He needed to only send a flare to alert everyone who could see it. 

None had come yet. And that was a relief. 

Namjoon, her mother and father, and her grandmothers made a wide circle around her. The moment was coming and Isador felt her heart beating rapidly in her chest. 

You got this, love. Everyone will see how strong you are.  

They will definitely see how strong I am. They will try to murder me in jealousy, Joon. 

She felt his silence as he knew it was the truth. They had done the same to her grandmothers. The family gift of elements had been removed for generations before Isador was able to conjure the magic again. Not only did she have the cursed gift, she had multiple “blessings.” 

Reaching above the peak, Isador heard the beginning of the Ballad of Dragons. Gentle humming before guttural growls from deep within. To others, it may have sounded like a nightmare, but to them, it was a dream. A song for the gods, for the ancestors who unfortunately did not have a Gayle, for the protection. But most significantly, the gifts.

Without the gift from the gods who knows what would have happened to the dragons. 

It was why this ceremony existed. Everyone would see what the Queen and King had to offer.  

Of course most knew about the telepathy that Namjoon had. However, Isador had not shared with anyone her a single one of hers. 

The ancient song became louder and her body warmed. Her heartbeat slowed as she looked out into the ocean. 

Nothing. 

She closed her eyes and broke down the wall that had protected her mind for so long. Now she was willingly taking it apart so everyone could see who she was. On the inside and out. 

A burst of different voices popped into her mind. Everyone speaking at once. 

It can’t be. 

She’s lovely. 

The gods must be joking. 

This is a mistake. 

Multiple gifts are unheard of, and they both have multiples. 

Powerful. 

Isador, focus on me. I know it’s a lot. But just focus on my voice. 

Thankfully, the ruckus had died down in unison. Even Namjoon was no longer in her head. She couldn’t feel him. 

She opened her eyes and found images of her abilities in front of her. A brain for telepathy (odd), a cloak for invisibility (made sense), four crests with air, earth, fire, and water symbols for her elemental magic (also made sense), but there was another one. One that she herself didn’t know she had. She didn’t think she had a name for it. 

Gayle, the great-great-great grandmother, flew into Isador’s space. Isador hadn’t noticed until her grandmother cleared her throat. 

“You were blessed by the Arushi. A herald. A messenger to the ones who oversee our kind.”

“A messenger?”

“Yes. An important job. They must want to know something from you.”

Great. Just great.  Her grandmother called it a blessing, but she felt as if it were an inconvenience.  Why would they decide to declare this now of all times? 

This filthy child is a messenger to the gods?

Why does this family continue to receive all of these blessings but the rest of us have to feign for power?

Isador inwardly rolled her eyes. The same questions every time. As if they had not caused her family trauma beyond reason.  

She hoped the gods never blessed them. As much as it sucked to think about it, she noticed none of them had said a word about Namjoon and all of his gifts.

The gifts of telepathy, strength, and invisibility were all floating around his form.

She hadn’t expected for the both of them to share  two out  of three of their gifts. It made this marriage feel as if fate were pushing them together. Like Namjoon had said in his vows. 

He knew something. And Isador had a feeling there should be a fourth bubble around him.  Alas, the obvious elephant in the room needed to be mentioned. No one had procured even a slight grudge against Namjoon and his lineage. It was just pure jealousy fueling their internalized hatred for the family. 

Kali, the officiator, floated in between her and Gayle, who had been looking at her legacy with pride and joy. 

“Now that the song of the gifts has been sung and the gifts,” she placed emphasis on the word gifts, “have been shown. We shall let the Queen look into the waters.”

Hadn’t she already done that?

“We ask the gods to lift the veil and show us the true image.”

What?! 

She saw Namjoon flinch in the corner of her eye as she screamed in panic.  A veil!  

She turned her head to glance at her mother, but former Queen Safiyaah only nodded for her daughter to continue.  She tried her father, but to no avail. History books hadn’t taught her about a veil, and she definitely didn’t remember this being at the other wedding. None of the grandmothers or her own mother had told her about such a thing. The world was holding secrets that only a Queen could know, and she didn’t know if she wanted those secrets. 

“Queen Isador Abioye, as the granddaughter of many daughters of Gayle. You are the only one who can see what we cannot. The only one who can speak to the gods.  You have been chosen as the herald. Let the soul of Orunmila fill your bones as you recognize the freedom your family has given us all. See beyond.”

Isador hated every second of it, but did as she was told. And then felt herself falling.

[catman-draws]

Chapter 6- Page 7

First- Previous- Next

[dieletztepanzerhexe]

I really dont want to be a prisoner of my body. There are many things wrong with me that result in my hrmful thought patters and self destructive desires, but nothing makes me want to hurt myself, starve, sometimes kill myself, punish myself as strongly as looking at a scale of seeing myself from an unflattering angle.

[muffinlance]

Prompt: Scaled Over

Do it! Sink my whole concert weekend; I dare you!

(You’ve already hit Dress rehearsal and Opening night. I have 3 more shows. Can you go 5 for 5?)

I'm coming for you, and your little concerts too.

Chapter 3 preview:

---

The docks stood below the cliffs, the cliffs below the town. The traders’ ships were welcome at the lower markets and exactly no further. The Southern League wished for trade. It did not wish for visitors. Not when the Fire Nation still had a bounty out on waterbenders, and any other nation would be as happy to load up on dragon pelts as on seal-wolves’. 

It wasn’t that Katara didn’t trust the traders; it was that she knew there was no one outside her tribe she could trust. Children with golden eyes learned that lesson faster than most. 

“Master Yuu Lin,” she said, with sugary sweetness, “that was the price you agreed to last season.”

“Yes, yes,” the spindly excuse for a man said, stroking his beard, “last season it was quite fair. But you see, with the war…”

The war had been going for a hundred years. Unless Ba Sing Se had fallen, Katara didn’t want to hear more excuses about the war. Particularly not the same ones every year, used to stiff the Tribe on deals already agreed upon. 

She let the man talk. And talk. And talk. Tried to ignore the way he said things like I know you haven’t much experience yet, but… and Perhaps I could speak with one of your elders? As if her teacher being gone for her usual full moon exploits in any way changed Katara’s competence. Smiled over her gritted teeth as he added Or one of your women, if none of the elders are available— As if they were anything like the North. Let her teeth show when his eyes flicked, again, to the lit flame resting by her hand. Standard procedure, of course: every trading office had one. The docks themselves were lined in them. The traders could not know which of them were dragons, and which weren’t. Not when a respectable man like Yuu Lin, cousin to the Bei Fong family itself, was still prone to avoiding her eyes.

Never stare a predator in the eyes. 

“Master Yuu Lin, we agreed upon this price. I’ve our contract here. Some years, you turn a tidy profit on these deals. Do not expect to take it from our hides on the years you don’t. If you can’t keep a forward contract, don’t sign one.”

He looked at her hand, tapping on the papers next to the flame. He watched her smile, still sharp. He did not meet her eyes. 

“...Of course, child.”

And just for that, she was going to use their set of Omashu weights when measuring out his delivery, rather than the Ba Sing Se ones. 

“Princess,” she corrected. Not because she cared about the stupid titles that Sokka wouldn’t stop crowing over, but because the Earth Kingdom should. Her smile stretched wider. “Now, would you care to negotiate for next year?”

“...Yes, Princess Katara.”

(You can read Scaled Over on AO3.)

[dnangelic]

what if i said part of the reason why daisuke doesnt ever hurt anybody is bc even in the shape of a monster (a la dark's form) if he genuinely hurt anyone and they started looking at him differently he'd never ever forgive himself. he doesn't want to hurt or be hurt but if he ever has a choice he'd rather be the one punished and outcast and left scared than ever try to make someone feel that way himself

[ashesofariandel]

yknow i love how there are so many games that are coming out about timeloops because i know they were in development for several years so i know the timeloop has been in game devs common ideas for several years now

[mejomonster]

When ppl in person realize i can draw, and i mention im writing, theyre like: oh are you making a comic? Then when i say no, it took me 30 days to do a 30 page 1 chapter comic last time I tried at 4-6 hours of work a day and ideally id like a turnaround of like one 30 page chapter per 1-2 weeks if i was going to do it long term so. No. I am not making comics any more.

Then theyre like: are u gonna illustrate ur book???

And while i deeply appreciate the sentiment. Its also like... well my good sir madam elder, do u typically... look for adult novels with illustration pages? I mean yes i love illustrations too but im not sure why id draw extra, when im already gonna probably make my own cover, and i want my books to be enough within confines of expected that ppl idk... give em a chance? Idk. Food for thought. Do i illustrate my book chapters mm

[yr-obedt-cicero]

What's the problem with Phil being a freemason?

I have a personal bias against their bad theology, sexist systems, and just secret societies with suspicions of being at fault for murdering members that leaked information in general.

[nanamismoonchild]

the ancestor's scales (part 2 chapter 2) - GODS

→ pairing: dragon prince! namjoon x dragon princess!poc OC

 → genre/au: fantasy, royalty au, smut, fluff, humor, soulmates au, explores a little of African/Korean mythology 

→ summary: Isador's hand has been won by none other than Namjoon. Now weddings bells are ringing and she has to walk down the aisle.

->wc:1.5k

This is your descendant, Orunmila?”

“Yes.”

“She is who you picked to spread our messages?”

“Yes.”

Isador’s head was ringing. The voices were not helping in any way.

“Isador Abioye, are you awake child?”

The noise she made was something between a grunt and an affirmation. The ringing was becoming louder and was making everything fuzzy. She could’ve sworn someone had said Orunmila.

“I believe she is incapacitated. Give the girl some water from the healing fountain.”

Was she in the hospital? If so, why were they talking about the gods and healing fountains?

She felt a glass being pressed to her lips, and she tasted cold water. She drank it feverishly and felt a cooling sensation through her body. Her head stopped spinning and she was able to open her eyes to see two people standing above her. One looked concerned while the other was annoyed.

The concerned one was a well-built man with a muscular physique. He looked like her but much older. Dark brown skin, kinky hair that raised towards the sun, brown eyes, and full lips. She instantly knew this was Orunmila. The god of wisdom and the god that bestowed her grandmother with the strength to lead the dragons to a new home.

The annoyed one looked like someone from the Seoul Province. In fact, Isador thought the person looked a little like Namjoon. Piercing almond eyes, long legs that went on for miles, and chestnut tanned skin. She wasn’t sure who they were but they were connected to Namjoon’s ancestry. If Isador squinted hard enough from her view on the floor, she could see that their eyes were really the color of a fire.

Racking her mind, she finally came to realize that this was Jowangshin.

“Are you clear minded now, child?” Orunmila asked.

Isador nodded and pulled herself upright. This was when she noticed that she was in her human form. She had clearly been in her dragon form.

She took in her surroundings, noticing the different drawings and writings on the walls. Isador could see brightly colored dragons and stick figured humans on one of the walls. The humans had pickaxes and swords while the dragons lay motionless. Chained. Weak. It was the time before Graele saved her people.

As many times as she heard the story from her grandmother, nothing could compare to the actual horrors dragons must have faced. Her grandmother still had the scars.

“You have no survival skills, child,” the annoyed one said, obviously irked. “We could have killed you ten times over now.”

“Jowangshin.”

“I’m just saying, Orunmila. She’s not asked a single question about us.”

Isador fought against the urge to roll her eyes. In retrospect, Jowangshin was correct. She hadn’t asked a single question. Isador felt as if she didn’t need to ask anything because it was going to be answered anyway.

If these were truly the gods her grandmothers always talked about, then they were wise beyond their years. And Jowangshin looked as if they would get annoyed if Isador asked questions.

So her situation wasn’t the best.

Orunmila squatted to reach Isador and bowed his head. Isador did the same in respect.

“It is wonderful to finally meet a descendant of the courageous Gayle. I was blessed to give her the gifts of the elements and more.”

Isador withheld her incessant snort and let him continue.

“But, it has come to my attention that someone took those gifts away. Especially at a time when you would need it most. Are you truly the only one with the gift? How was it stolen from the family line of Gayle? The line of Orunmila?”

“Here we go with the narcissist-like attitude,”Jowangshin said snarkily.

Orunmila shared a secret eye-roll with Isador but ignored the other god. He waited for Isador to answer.

Isador was surprised, which would be an understatement. “The gods took away our gift once they realized that the dragons were on the brink of civil war because of the elemental power that only my family could have. Were you not a part of that decision?”

Orunmila shook his head and cast a knowing look at his companion. Isador still had no clue why they were here. They hadn’t done anything but patronize her very existence.

“I would not take away something I kindly bestowed on a descendant I found worthy. That is not the way of the Arushi.”

Isador wanted to point out that it actually was the way of the Arushi, but she saw Jowangshin glare at her from behind Orunmila and kept her retort to herself.

“Isador, let me introduce you to Jowangshin, the god of the underworld. She is kin to the one you have made vows to.”

Vows. Isador had completely forgotten about the wedding. Namjoon and her family were probably freaking out, meanwhile she was being held hostage by the most two confusing gods she had ever (and these were the only two) spoken with.

“Namjoon is a descendant of hers and was granted a gift that equals yours.”

Jowangshin cleared their throat and gave Orunmila a pointed look. “I can introduce myself ‘Mila. You don’t do me any justice anyway. Why’d you stop at god of the underworld and kin? I am much more than that.” The god had begun to rant in a language that Isador recognized as old Seoulan.

She had learned the language as a child, because her grandmothers liked to tease her. Of course, like everything else, she had to adopt the new languages of the provinces.

She waited for the god to calm down before asking, “What is this about? I need to go back to the wedding.”

“Listen, child,” Orunmila began. “As you know now, you are a harbinger for the gods. You are our messenger. When you saw the gift, that was our que to bring you here. We need questions answered, and so do you. Your wedding can wait.”

Maybe all three emotions packed into one is a good idea. But curiosity did kill the cat, but satisfaction brought it back.

“What questions do you have that you think I can answer? Aren’t the two of you supposed to be all-knowing?”

They both answered “No” at the same time.

Jowangshin crossed their arms and leaned on the wall, “One of the questions you already answered for us.”

“Great. Let’s hear the next ones so I can get back.”

Orunmila shared another look with Jowangshin–something that was starting to get on Isador’s last nerve.

“Our second question is-”

“Actually,” Isador interrupted. “I have a few questions of my own. Why am I the one with the gift if it was taken from us? Why do I have more than one gift?"

"All questions will be answered in due tim-"

"If I answered your question, then you answer mine."

Jowangshin lifted their eyebrows but Isador saw the minute smile growing on their face. " So the princess does have a spine," they said. "Fine. I'll answer why you have more than one gift. It's the same reason why Namjoon has more than one."

"His is hidden," Isador interrupted.

"Yes. For good reason. Where you are the harbinger of the gods, Namjoon is a death odemi."

Isador tilted her head in confusion.

"An odemi is a demon. A powerful one. There are many types but we’ll only focus on the death part.”

Orunmila shook his head at his companion. “Another time. Isador needs to go back.”

Jowangshin simply shrugged, “Isador, when you get back, everyone will be a little worried. You did fall almost 30 feet down-”

“What?”

“But thankfully,” they continued, ignoring Isador,” you were in your dragon form anyway. You will not tell anyone where you have been.”

Orunmila nodded, “I will say that it will be easy for you not to mention it. In fact, I will show you what you missed before we brought you here.”

The god placed his hand on her forehead. Isador felt a pulling sensation before a vivid image flashed before her eyes.

Oh gods.

“This is what I would have seen?” She couldn’t hide the panic in her voice.

Both of the gods nodded.

Her head began to pound again and her arm felt heavier.

“You are waking up, child. We’ll be calling you back soon.”

Orunmila stood to his full height. Isador hadn’t even realized she was still on the floor.

“Isador, I don’t like you that much. But I do like my descendant Namjoon. Stay near him and you will be protected,” Jowangshin said. “And practice your elemental gift. You will need it.”

The room was beginning to fade in and out, and the headache was turning into a migraine. Her arm was definitely feeling weird, and if Isador had to guess, it was broken.

Orunmila had one last thing to say though.

“History is repeating itself, Isador, but this time…the gods will not be on your side.”

[poptartmochi]

tav tav tav tav 💃🏻

[always-a-slut-4-ghouls]

I would say that the United States, as of right now, has three main food groups (aside from junk food) and those are, Italian, Mexican, and Chinese. All of which have been Americanized here to some extent but differently in different parts of the country. I find this very funny because I have heard people from Italy be indignant about what we’ve done with the stuff (and about good restaurants too!) like, sorry if you guys weren’t creative, mixing things up a bit is great. “What about (regionally popular food)?!” I know we all have those, I haven’t heard of bitches in the south eating lefse, but that’s not my point! What was my point actually? I think I was going to say that, even if we bastardize stuff a lot, I’m super glad we have, as a country, agreed that more seasoning is good. Because if this place had been like “fuck immigrant food forever, we are eating British style” I think I would die.

This country has historically treated immigrants like shit, but we do tend to cave eventually and go like “actually,

your food is really good” a kind of shallow prize I guess, but I’m glad we actually start doing it eventually because I WILL mock British food and I WILL be sad that the only good family recipes my family has from before immigrating are all desserts. Don’t get me wrong, I love sweets, but I’m pretty sure there is a reason we stopped making other stuff

Wait, I re-read this today and realized I sound like my family is British. We are not. What even are British desserts? I bet they don’t have enough cardamom. Although lefse doesn’t have cardamom and i like a lot of things without it, my point is that their holiday and special event foods probably don’t have enough! Which wouldn’t surprise me tbh because apparently the only place that went crazy for the stuff outside of where it originated seems to have been Scandinavia for some reason. At least some maps I looked at seemed to suggest it. Which rocked me to my core