#God bless the teachers who know when they’re going to be absent and they can schedule subs in advance

[simple-persica]

I don’t think I thought my job choice through…

I’m subbing for a year and the way I’m riddled with anxiety before I go to bed and when I wake up is almost comical because I’m just waiting for a last minute call.

I already have anxiety, this is a whole new level of Tom foolery

[avadescent]

Rivetra-Parent AU but modern is still lodged in my brain, so here’s Eren attempting to win a Science Fair.

Crossposted on AO3 w/ references

Eren bursts in through the front door like a high-powered locomotive on a one-way rail track, and as he kicks his shoes off expertly before striding into the meticulously polished threshold, Levi feels no need to act like an accommodating parent today and decides to leave Petra in charge of all the damage control.

She catches him by the sleeve before he can slither away from the kitchen however, and promptly threatens to make him sleep on the couch should he leave her to deal with their rambunctious thirteen year-old alone. Cleaning up is his specialty, after all.

Really, Levi thinks as he seats himself once more, Wives just have too much power sometimes.

“Eren!” Petra greets warmly as he rushes into the kitchen. Levi arches a brow, because Eren on a normal day is a big, bumbling, annoying idiot whose pent-up energy needs a thorough rain check; Eren today looks like even more of a big, bumbling idiot than usual.

This is not good.

“How was school today?” Petra ruffles his hair like nothing’s amiss and Levi shoots her a nasty look because he knows she knows that Eren’s firecracker energy today spells Impending Doom. Instead of giving them a colorful, sparkly show, Levi is quite sure they’ll be given an explosion and one hell of a kitchen to clean the longer they allow this overly excited version of their adopted son to linger.

“Good evening.”

The clear and pleasant (albeit slightly monotone) voice that greets them from the kitchen doorway causes Petra’s smile to widen even further—and Levi’s patience to wear thin.

“All right, spit it out,” he orders, crossing his arms in the hopes to get this over with as soon as possible. “What did you do this time?”

“Eren didn’t do anything!” another voice pipes up, a shock of blond peeking out from behind Mikasa’s scarf. When Levi’s perpetual glare settles on this poor, unsuspecting child, Armin hastily blurts out a mandatory: “Yet.”

“They just announced that the Science Fair’s coming up!” Eren informs, still too enthusiastic for Levi’s comfort, but that’s where Petra comes in.

“Are you planning to join the fair?” she asks, and to Mikasa and Armin, “Do your parents know that you’re here?”

“Yeah, but we had to go to Mikasa’s to ask for permission, that’s why I came home a little late,” Eren answers for his friends, his voice turning sheepish at the end, eyes darting nervously between his father and the floor (not that looking at the floor is alleviating his anxiousness in any way, Levi’s obsession with cleanliness stares him back in the face as glaringly as Levi’s gaze itself).

“So what,” his father bristles disapprovingly, “Are you going to build a baking soda volcano or something?”

“Or… something,” Eren supplies meagerly, and it doesn’t help that neither Mikasa nor Armin are offering any placating clarification or better yet: an explanation.

“And what exactly is this something?” Petra asks, god bless her soul.

“We’re still working out the details!” Armin says, now looking as nervous as Eren. “So is it all right if we stay for dinner… sir, ma’am?”

Before Levi can open his mouth to deliver the big fat No he’s been itching to deal out since Eren came crashing in, Petra shoves Eren and his friends in the direction of the stairs and says with what Levi can tell is genuine sweetness, “Of course! Levi will drive you guys home too, so don’t you go walking out in the streets at night, you hear?”

“Yeah, thanks!” Eren beams at her and then he’s rushing off with his friends to conspire. “Holler when dinner’s ready!”

“You mind the time, brat!” Levi snaps, having crossed the distance between him and his wife. “Either you come down on time for dinner or you’re getting leftovers.”

Eren blanches, and then he’s mock-saluting, used to his father’s attitude. “Aye aye, Captain!”

The kids disappear behind Eren’s door with a loud bang, and then Levi is whirling on his wife, displeasure evident in the crease of his brow. “You and I both know encouraging him was a bad idea.”

“For your kitchen, maybe,” she quips easily, all versions of his glare having lost its effect on her years ago.

“I’m not just talking about that,” he grouses in a tone that indicates he is just talking about that. 

“Young adolescents need encouragement!” is her defense, and then she’s pushing past him. “Especially around his age.”

“Who told you that?” he scoffs, “The Parent-Teacher Association?”

The way she blushes slightly is telling enough. “Seriously?” He sounds genuinely shocked.

“He’s entering high school now, I’m just trying to be a little more… lenient.” She shrugs, and he absent-mindedly brushes her hair back from her face when it falls forward with the motion of her cutting the vegetables. “Let him spread his wings and all.”

“At a Science Fair?” he replies incredulously. “You want him to end up like Shitty Glasses?”

“First of all, that is not how we regard friends in this household,” Petra scolds uselessly. “Second of all, why not? He seems excited about it.”

“Wait until he steals all your bleach to conduct hair-brained experiments,” he scoffs, and Petra rolls her eyes at his argument because the only one who cares for kidnapped bleach is him.

“Listen, they’re probably planning right now,” Petra begins.

“You mean Armin’s doing all the planning,” Levi interjects, grumbling.

“Exactly!” Petra beams like he just walked into her trap and he realizes a millisecond too late that he did. 

(Wives definitely have too much power.)

“Armin’s a smart boy and he knows how to keep Eren in check—remember that incident with the rock?”

She builds a solid argument and Levi has to admit that, albeit he does so with a bit of snark, flicking her hair like they’re still teenagers and sending her a complimentary ‘tch’ sound to put a cherry on top of all his irritation.

Her muffled laugh at his reaction serves as a familiar response, and as they settle into a comfortable rhythm in their kitchen as they always do, she looks up at him with a considerate smile and aims to bargain, “We’ll just trust him with whatever it is he plans to do, okay? He came asking us for permission, after all. Teenagers I know would have run off and done whatever it is they wanted to without asking for anyone’s permission.”

The reference to his days as a rogue in the outskirts of the city is plain as day, but as always Petra manages to make it seem like something worthy of admiration—something cool, and not at all something to be ashamed about. She’s always been one to see something for what it is, and Levi doesn’t doubt for a second that her admiration for him isn’t misguided at all, because he knows—he’s learned—all the ways that Petra is genuine, and this is one of the ways.

So even though he’s usually the one calling the shots around here, for a rare occasion, he relents and listens to her.

“You can keep him in line if he goes too far,” she continues, and she sounds so sure that nothing will go wrong that Levi almost believes her, “Since you’re the only one who can do that.”

He huffs, flicking her hair again. “Are you stupid?” he asks, and the question has bite but he manages to relay it in a way that sounds so incredibly fond, “You’re forgetting all the times he’s listened to you instead of me.”

“We’re even then.” She grins, and he’s a little surprised when she leans forward to press a chaste kiss to his cheek. “Thanks. You’re doing great.”

A thousand nights of doubting himself and his abilities as a caretaker weigh behind that last sentiment—a thousand nights of hurling insults into the sky at self-righteous parents who thought he was unfit for the job, a thousand nights of Petra sitting by him and letting him take his frustration out on the grimy state of their house’s outer walls because they were wrong, because for all his crass he would never walk away from his kid—and because this is Petra, he believes her.

And because this is Petra, he tilts his head to take advantage of their solitude, and dinner is delayed by a few minutes.

— 

“So,” Eren preludes, his grin still far too exuberant for Levi’s liking, “We have a plan!”

Armin nods in tandem with the announcement, but his mouth is too full of mashed potatoes that he has yet to provide any input into this so-called plan.

“All right, we’re listening.” Petra opens the floor for discussion with a slight wave of her knife, and Levi finds the unconscious action amusing. Maybe this is why he does all the threatening in their relationship. “But first, when’s the Science Fair?”

“Two weeks from now,” Mikasa informs. “Eren wants to generate biodiesel.”

Levi and Petra blink. “He wants to what?”

“We’re going to store used cooking oil and treat it to remove impurities, then we’re going to subject it to transesterification in order to produce biodiesel that we can use to power a toy car or something,” Armin rushes to explain, though the looks of impervious ignorance gracing the adults’ faces does not fade in the slightest, “We’re still working out the kinks, but it’s a solid plan and will most likely just take a week of trials, so we’ll be in time for the fair.”

“I’m making the posters,” Mikasa adds, as an afterthought.

“Hold on.” Petra shakes her head. “What’s this about biodiesel?”

“Biodiesel is an eco-friendly fuel source made from cooking oil!” Eren tells them enthusiastically, though he just sounds like he’s citing a Wikipedia article the way Hange prattles away about her experiments. Levi side-eyes Petra with a damning look of ‘I told you this would happen.’

“Basically it’s like gas,” Armin explains, always ready to back Eren up with solid fact. “But it isn’t harmful to the environment. We’re thinking of creating biodiesel for the Science Fair, because—”

“It’s sure to win!” Eren interjects animatedly. “We’re going to beat that horse-face Jean and his potato arc reactor if it’s the last thing I do!”

‘Arc reactor?’ Petra mouths confusedly, but Levi’s just as clueless as her.

“So basically…” Petra tries, and Levi continues her sentiment with a deadpan, “You want to turn my kitchen into a fucking power plant.”

A look of sure-fire guilt and hopeful excitement crosses Eren’s face at the fact that Levi understands exactly what they’re trying to do here—which could end in a disastrously good or a disastrously bad way, depending on how he takes it. (Eren made his friends promise to cross their fingers behind their backs while trying to convince Levi into allowing them to conduct experiments at home, just for that extra boost of luck.)

“Walk us through the methodology,” is the order that comes out of Levi’s mouth, but it’s leaning more towards that hopeful excitement than the sure-fire guilt from earlier, so Eren’s still revving in full throttle when he delivers a run-down of what he and Armin had discussed earlier, with the occasional input from Mikasa.

“We’re going to let Mikasa cook three hundred grams of chicken in three-hundred grams of oil,” he starts slowly, so as not to lose his parents—or himself—in the process of explaining their project. “Because Armin said it should be a one-to-one ratio.”

Levi nods like he understands, so Eren continues, “Then we’re going to heat up the used oil at sixty degrees for about an hour to remove any moisture or impurities.”

“Hold on. How are you going to do that?” Petra asks, her brows furrowed. “What equipment are you going to use?”

“We’re going to borrow flasks from Mom’s lab,” Armin supplies, “We’ll put the used oil inside, then we’re going to heat the flasks in a pot—kind of like a water bath for the oil.”

“And that’s it? It becomes biodiesel?”

“Um.” Armin flushes embarrassedly. “Not exactly. That’s still the… first step.”

“How are you going to generate biodiesel then?” Levi crosses his arms derisively, like this is the sign of Impending Doom he’d divined earlier.

“Well—we let it react,” Armin stutters, “With methanol. And sulfuric acid.”

There’s a long stretch of silence that pervades the dining table at the mention of hazardous chemicals, and Eren is tense the whole time, Armin quivering beside him and Mikasa coiled as though ready to spring into action at any moment, and some niggling part of these kids’ brains whispers in fright that maybe they’ll find a dinner table flying at their faces at any given moment now, even though Levi hates it when he has to clean up after broken glass.

It doesn’t help at all that Petra is simply staring at him lengthily, as though waiting for him to say something. That means she’ll agree with whatever he decides and if he decides they can’t do it then that’s a promising project going right down the drain. Eren crosses his fingers harder.

“You better make sure we don’t get food poisoning,” Levi finally says, spooning vegetables into his mouth, and at the verdict both Eren and Petra look like they’re ready to bring him the entire fucking moon.

— 

A few days later, Levi shuts the door in Hange’s face.

“Hey!” comes the muffled yell of outrage from outside. She seems to have brought bothersome company with her, because after that he’s being scolded.

“Levi, this is not how you should be treating your guests,” Erwin’s voice booms, but Levi can’t really bring himself to care, so he turns around and walks away, except he’s intercepted by Petra, who with her welcoming nature disrupts all his last-minute plans for a peaceful weekend.

“Hange, Erwin, wonderful to see you!” she greets, and the taller woman falls forward to press a grateful kiss to Petra’s cheek in return.

“Wonderful to see you too, unlike some people,” Hange gripes, and if he were any younger Levi probably would have flipped her off in reply. Instead, he just passes his handkerchief to his wife with a grave aura about him, pointing to his cheek when Petra tilts her head at him in confusion.

“Is Aunt Zoë here!?” Eren yells from upstairs, but his parents find no need to give him a positive response when they can already hear him thundering down the stairs. “Aunt Zoë!”

“My little titan looks like he’s grown so big!” Hange gushes, already accepting the firecracker that is Eren Ral into her open arms and swinging him around like a stuffed toy. Eren laughs, because then he’s swung into his Uncle Erwin’s arms too, who catches him with as much ease as it had taken Hange to pick him up. “What have you been feeding him, Petra? At this rate he’ll grow taller than Levi! You haven’t been giving him an overdose of Cherifer, have you?”

“The only person in overdose here is you, Shitty Glasses,” Levi grouses, and Hange flicks his forehead in return.

“Where’s Armin?” Erwin asks, setting Eren down. “We’ve brought all the materials he asked for from Hange’s lab, so you should be ready to start your experiment.”

Armin and Mikasa hurry from the stairs just as Erwin asks, and the former is beaming up at the man with unreserved gratitude. “Thanks Dad!”

“No problem,” Erwin replies, patting his head. “Eren, you help me carry the stuff from the car.”

“Yessir!” Eren rushes outside with Erwin in tow, and as they do so Mikasa tugs on Petra’s sleeve.

“What is it, dear?” Petra smiles, and Mikasa looks up at her, that overcast gaze clouded with a steely determination.

“Ms. Ral,” she starts, “Can you show me how to cook fried chicken?”

— 

The weekend is—and this is the understatement of the year—a Fucking Disaster.

Eren has managed to turn their kitchen into a laboratory this time, with a digital weighing scale plugged in next to the microwave and a big pot filled with three Erlenmeyer flasks settled upon Levi’s most prized possession: the induction stove.

He stands like a cactus in the corner of the kitchen—prickly and dry and harmful to anyone who comes within reach except maybe Petra—surveying the people who have invaded his home and who are now boiling three flasks of used cooking oil, methanol, and sulfuric acid inside his cooking pot.

He’ll have to buy a new cooking pot after this weekend if the way Hange’s leering over it is any indication.

Petra and Mikasa are situated by the stove, cooking batches of chicken thigh that Petra had him drive to the store to buy (he has to crack that Wife-Power thing before it does him in someday). Mikasa’s adept at learning and that applies here, as she whips out batch after batch of fried chicken and pours golden oil into a beaker for Hange to separate into a For Analysis test tube and a For Experiment flask.

Eren had tried to cook a chicken, but it had blackened as a consequence of his sporadic attention span.

So now he’s just the designated stirrer, since a water bath is these kids’ alternative for a three-neck batch reactor (as if Levi and Petra even know what the hell that is) and the reaction needs to be stirred constantly, according to Hange and Armin, who parrot each other frequently regarding the methodology that now everyone’s got it memorized. 

Even Levi, who stipulated earlier that he would not be helping them turn his kitchen into a disaster zone whilst raising a spray bottle of self-concocted cleaning solvent in their faces like he was going to shoot them with it any second.

The first time Armin tries to pour a batch of oil into a flask for pre-treatment he’s shaking so badly under Levi’s dead-eyed stare that he accidentally spills everything. Levi’s muttering a string of profanities as he proceeds to do self-designated clean-up duty. 

Erwin pats the boy on the back and when he tries for the second time, Eren notices his uncanny ability to pour just enough oil into a flask to make 250 mL.

That sort of diverges into a little side-experiment where Hange encourages Armin to pour oil at a variety of different volumes—20 mL, 50 mL, 150 mL, and so on—and it vaguely reminds Levi of a drinking party when they cheer every single time Armin gets the exact measurement after one try.

It takes Petra asking them in learned Levi-fashion “what they’re trying to do” that everyone remembers they’re here for a biodiesel experiment and not an experiment to test Armin’s Hidden Talent (even though Levi’s 110% sure Hange has an entire encyclopedia dedicated to her son’s growth alone, and that’s not including the record she’s probably kept of Eren over the years, from all his baby teeth down to every single nail clipping).

They go back to watching over the cooking-pot slash water-bath, and Hange yells bloody murder when she realizes they’ve let the temperature get to one-hundred—Levi moves in anticipation of a coming explosion but thankfully that doesn’t happen.

At some point Petra’s hand ghosts over his butt and he turns his head to snap at her for stealing his phone, but everyone’s suddenly back in Drinking Party mode as Petra records Mikasa flipping chicken thighs like they’re pancakes and aiming them at the plate Eren has raised a few feet away. Hange’s yelling in admiration and scribbling onto a notepad—Levi’s brows crease because since when did she have a notepad—and then Hange asks like it’s the end of the world: “How do you manage to make every chicken land on the plate?”

Mikasa turns in that aloof manner of hers that Levi can respect, and then she’s saying: “I’m good at calculating angles.”

That gets Hange’s undivided attention for the rest of the hour, with Eren trying to get her back on track with reasons along the lines of, “We’re not here to study Mikasa’s eyeballs, Aunt Zoë!”

Levi thinks that maybe they all would have been arrested right there and then if anyone else had heard it—for fuck’s sake Erwin is the goddamn Chief of Police, but all this so-called Chief-of-Police does is turn to look at Armin with a jovial smile and a politely asked, “So what’re we doing next?”

It’s midnight by the time Eren gets four rows of biodiesel samples to test on a toy car the next day—if he can wake up to greet the next day, that is—and it’s nearly one in the morning by the time Levi’s got the entire kitchen spotless and all the trash (including Hange and company) out the door.

He crashes into bed after a quick three-minute shower, and he can barely question why the heck Eren is in their bed too before Petra rolls to curl into his side, sound asleep. 

He sighs in reluctant compliance, but it’s easy to sink between the warmth of Petra and Eren at his sides, and when he drifts off to sleep he thinks the comfort is well-rewarded after a rather tiring day.

— 

The day of the Science Fair comes, and Levi looks bored as he scrutinizes all the other booths around them. He spots the mandatory baking soda volcano off to the side and decides Eren’s got this competition in the bag until he notices a horse-faced classmate flaunting some Potato Arc Reactor with much vigor. 

“That’s the horse-face you were talking about?” Levi asks incredulously, because he hadn’t expected Eren to be accurate in his observation of the other boy. Eren nods in a manner that can’t be described as anything else but “repulsed”, his eyebrows scrunching in the middle like he’s itching to just punch the boy in the face. Which Levi wouldn’t really mind—he thinks this fair could use a little more flair.

“Well I think you’re definitely going to win!” Petra cheers, and her positive energy is the only boost Eren needs because when the panel of judges comes strolling by he leads the presentation and the demonstration of his project with what Levi deems is adequate decency.

“You three really made that?” one of them jeers. “I don’t believe you for a second—you seem to have used chemicals unavailable to high schoolers. Did you solicit outside help for this experiment?”

Eren, dumb and determined as always, doesn’t disappoint when he snaps back, “The only people we asked were our parents, and the guidelines say we can ask our parents!”

Another judge narrows his eyes—Levi recognizes him as Nile Dok, that annoying prat who usually leads the Parent-Teacher Association meetings, and he feels inclined to punch this man in the face and break a few teeth when he whirls on Petra to ask, like he’s ready to persecute the lot of them for breaking the rules, “And what exactly were your contributions to this project, Ms. Ral?”

The man stumbles back in surprise when Petra levels him with a stern glare and a just as sternly said, “I simply showed them how to cook the chicken to get their used oil, Mr. Dok. Nothing more than that.”

“Hm.” He studies her for a long moment before turning to face Levi instead, which would have been a huge mistake if they hadn’t been within school premises and Levi had all the room to demonstrate just how many ways he could break this man’s teeth. “And you, Mr. Ral? Did you contribute in any way to your son’s project?”

“Hah? Of course I contributed.” He shifts his weight onto one foot, and with an air of nonchalance that manages to qualify Eren for first place in this stupid competition, he says with all seriousness: 

“I ate the chicken.”

[buggie-hagen]

Sermon for Fourth Sunday after Pentecost (6/20/21)

Primary Text | Mark 4:35-41

------------------------------------------------------

Dear People of God,

We have God to thank and praise because he has provided us with passages like this in the Gospel of Mark. The story of Jesus calming the storm, though brief, is super encouraging in matters of faith. Its point is to strengthen our faith. So we have it, after teaching the people Jesus and his disciples got on a boat and set out to sea. While on their route a great windstorm arose. Wave after wave began smashing against them. Water began filling the boat to the point that the boat was going to sink. They were going to drown. While the storm was wreaking havoc, Jesus was asleep at the back of the boat lying on a cushion. The disciples must have thought, “We’re about to die, how can it be that he is still sleeping?” So they woke him up and asked him, “Teacher, do you not care that we are perishing?” Let us pause the story here. The disciples are relatable. A great and terrible storm is upon them and by all accounts it looks like they’re about to die. Now most of us living in Wyoming don’t need to worry about our boat sinking in a storm. But we do face our own storms in our own ways. A storm can be anything that threatens stability in our life, in our person, or in our world. Christians are by no means exempt from great and terrible things happening to them. And like the disciples, when bad things happen, we might be tempted to think God doesn’t care. For example, we might think: “I got this rare disease, so God doesn’t care about me,” “I have no friends, so God mustn’t love me,” “I lost my job, my loved one, my feeling of security, therefore I am doomed,” “My life has been ruined because of this or that, therefore God has abandoned me.” If we base how much God loves us on whether or not life is easy or difficult, we do not have a firm foundation on which to stand. No wonder many people think God is absent.

Back to the storm. When the disciples wake Jesus up and ask him, “Teacher, do you not care that we are perishing?” we learn who God is and what faith is. Jesus then admonishes the wind and tells the sea “Silence! Be still!” At which point the wind stopped and the sea became calm. Then Jesus turned to his disciples and said, “Why are you afraid? Have you still no faith?” Here we have the point of the story. It is to teach us about faith. We will indeed face things that make us sweat, our heart pound, our body shake…but that by no means means that God has abandoned us. Faith believes God is gracious even when by all accounts it seems the opposite is true. Faith believes God is gracious and preserves us even as it seems we are perishing. Faith believes God is gracious and saves us even as the storm beats its waves against us and the ship is sinking. Faith believes God is gracious when life grows weary and hope is dim. Faith, of course, is not a feeling. Nor is faith something that we can make with the force of our own will. Faith is itself, God’s gracious gift. Even if it is weak or hard to perceive the Spirit has placed it in our hearts. Faith is something that we can depend on God for. This is true both in life and in death. No matter what storms we face in life God has not abandoned us. And, unless the Lord comes back soon, each of us will face death. Faith is our greatest comfort because when we do die, it is a gracious God who calms the storm, holds us tight, and will one day raise us up again…so that death is really falling asleep, to one day be woken up to a new life.

As Christians, we are not exempt from terrible things happening to us in life. Storms happen to everyone. But we do have hope. A sure and certain hope. It is a hope that comes from beyond ourselves. When everything goes wrong, we need not despair and give up. We know this because when Jesus died on the cross death did not keep him down forever. He rose again. And because of this we have peace with God. Jesus died and rose again to one day calm all storms. And he especially died and rose again to forgive sins. Your sins. Faith believes God is gracious not for the sake of ourselves, but for the sake of Jesus Christ. Because for the sake of Christ God forgives your sins fully and completely. And no matter what storms you face, be still. God has you. He will not let you perish. (Pause) We forget daily that God is gracious. But God gives many reminders of his goodness. So if you need someone to calm your storm, you have it by the mouth of human preachers—and not just pastors but anyone who can assure you of God’s good promises. Whether it be me or another Christian, we can remind you about Jesus and his peace that passes all understanding. (pause) I had a friend in college. We were fellow music education majors. She played guitar and wrote her own music. One day I went to see her perform at the coffee shop in my dorm. One song she performed that night changed the course of my life. The lyric went, “At the end of the day, I get on my knees and pray, and thank God I know his love, his unconditional love.” Even though it was a song, even though she was an ordinary young women—in that moment she preached to me. We are preachers whenever we share the love of the triune God made known in Jesus. And that’s what she did, she preached to my troubled ears that God loves me. Life in college and as a young adult is filled with much uncertainty and many storms. Through the words of my friend God assured me that his love is unconditional, that no matter what storms I would endure, and I have weathered many storms, the promise remains that nothing can separate me from God’s love in Jesus Christ. The same is true for you.

Whatever troubles are before your eyes, disregard them. Do not rely on your eyes. It is only the promise that can be relied on��the promise of God that exists despite all things against it. If the Lord himself endured suffering and the cross, we his followers will also face these things. Yet, we are with the benefit of God’s favor. Not only does God calm the storm in the words we say to each other, but he also provides for that calm in the Lord’s Supper. There the Spirit gives his promise to forgive your sins, to give you new life and salvation. In the Holy Supper you receive the Lord Jesus’ true body and blood, the very testament of God’s enduring love. The Spirit also places his promises in baptism. When you were baptized, you were baptized into Christ’s death and resurrection. So that you too will walk in newness of life. Which is why we baptize not only adults, but also infants. They too belong to God’s promised redemption in Jesus Christ. We, the Church of Jesus Christ, ought also to give them God’s blessings. You have a God who serves you relentlessly, forgives you relentlessly, shows you his favor relentlessly, on account of Christ. At the end of the day, when all is said and done, we are only upheld by the promise. On the other side of that stormy cloud is a rainbow, and sunshine, and a new you who has life in the Son of God.

[yzssie]

FANFIC GONE... GOOD? Pt. 1

Characters: Tom Hiddleston x reader

Chapters: 1/3

Warnings: (College) Teacher x student, smut.

Words: 2.8k

A/N: Ok so I thought of posting this yesterday since we had a birthday boy ❤ But I was out all day so I couldn’t proof-read. I had to split this fanfic in two parts because I wrote over 5k words, Jesus Christ I WAS EXCITED. Therefore, the first chapter has no smut and is just explaining our situation /evil Loki creepy smirk/ Without further ado, action!

*part 3 is out, check Masterlist*

English literature was a course you always loved but surprisingly, things could get even better than you thought.

Your original teacher moved away and the college was obliged to hire someone new since the other teachers were already busy. You weren’t expecting that the nice old lady who made you love literature more than you already did, was going to be replaced with the most handsome male you have ever seen before your eyes.

Mr. Tom Hiddleston. Now, you don’t want to sound desperate but, the truth has to be spoken. The fact that he is an English literature teacher makes him twice as hot as he already is.

The first time you saw him entering the classroom you couldn’t help but stare, and you weren’t the only one. His tall lean figure was graciously walking to his desk. His white shirts, God bless his outfits choices, was perfectly wrapping his burly chest, so you could almost see his delicious abs through the thin material. His long legs were taking slow but long steps, swaying his hips in the most tenacious, yet manly, intimidating style. His pants were molded on his round ass in a way that made your fists clench at the thought of running your fingers along his back muscles, down to his spine and finally grabbing those delectable asscheeks. His eyebrows were furrowed, cheekbones popping out, his strong jawline covered with a trace of a copper beard, and as soon as his shiny blue eyes moved to scan the whole room, his lips broke into a charming smile before as he introduced himself. If his tantalizing face wasn’t enough, his voice was so deep and husky, you swore your lower part trembled in arousal. Studying your professor, instead of studying his actual notes, you observed he has a habit of running his long fingers through his brown curls and of licking his lips when he concentrates on an answer. During the class, he is usually rolling up his sleeves to the elbow, showing up his veiny and muscular arms.

That’s what got you here now, typing silently on your laptop while darting your eyes on the enticing teacher. You have this secret Tumblr blog you’re running, writing smutty content in order to relieve yourself from the sexual frustration you’ve built up all these years while not finding the right time to enter in a relationship. You had a considerable amount of followers who are always excited about every new story you post. You would have never done this at school, but Mr. Hiddleston right here doesn’t help your current state too much and you couldn’t handle yourself. Thoughts flow continuously as he’s teaching his course, your fresh new teacher x student piece of work is extremely appreciated. You are almost in the last row of seats, the row behind you is empty. The perfect place for nobody to pay attention to what you are doing besides your best friend seated next to you, rolling her pen while concentrating on your teacher’s remarks. The third chapter is getting a good start until a little bump in your sides startles you and when you look up at your teacher you find him staring directly at you.

“Miss Y/N, have you been listening to what I was saying?”

Panic envelops your whole mind. Shit, we're talking about Othello, aren’t we? You steal a glance at your best friend’s laptop and read her last phrase. Your answer is more a question than an answer and he narrows his eyes.

“Are you asking me or are you answering me?”

“Answering,” you try to sound more confident but you’re pretty sure he saw your eyes flash to your friend’s notes.

“Indeed we were,” his lips tighten as he glances at the clock. “Please send me your essay on our last analyzed work now and then you’re free,” he tells to the class after throwing another short judging look to your presence.

You admit that you are extremely embarrassed right now, so you quickly close both of your fanfiction and essay and attach the document on your desktop to the email before sending it to Mr. Hiddleston. You get up quickly and mutter a “goodbye” while your friend storms out after you.

“I have told you that you need to get a grip of yourself!” she states while she’s struggling with her bag.

“I know,” you sigh taking a seat on the closest free bench you find. “I love literature and I am usually paying attention, but… look at him!... It’s like… like he’s sculpted by the Gods,” you roll your eyes and your friend chuckles.

“You and every other girl drooling over our literature teacher.”

“I am pretty sure you'd do the same if you didn’t have a boyfriend,” you peer at her as you’re starting your laptop again.

“Your new fanfiction is really good though,” she grins at you and you smirk back.

“That’s why I was a little bit absent. It… gets better if I write it while I have the inspiration in front of me,” you crack your hands before opening your fanfic folder and your breath hitches.

“What?”

“Fuck, fuck fuck fuck fuck, why isn’t it here?” you curse and go back to the desktop to open the document saved there.

“Oh my God,” your whole body freezes as the file named “Document” which was supposed to be the essay was actually the third part of your newest fanfiction. You were in such a hurry that you forgot to rename the fanfiction file and switch to the specific folder for fanfiction. The actual essay file was in your documents folder, where you saved it last night at 4 am. You were too tired to review it and you just lazily saved it as it was, without a name or a specific location. You were actually planning to read it again and make the final touches during class but you were caught up in the fanfic and forgot to do it and then Mr. Hiddleston flustered you and… you’ve just ruined your life.

“Earth to Y/N, what happened?” your friend shakes you and your face contorts in regret.

“I have sent… I… the file… my fanfic….” you were stammering with your words.

“You sent Mr. Hiddleston the fanfic you wrote about him?!” she whispers and you nearly scream at her.

“INSPIRED!” you nearly yelled at her before pausing, “Inspired by him,” your voice lowers and you feel your whole existence crumbling away.

“Shit. Just… send him another email with the right document and tell him that you mistakenly attached a different file.”

Your fingers were shaking on the keyboard while browsing through the Gmail again.

“What if he opens it?”

“I don’t know… write something like “please ignore it?” “

“That’s exactly the wrong thing to say. He might get more curious.”

“Then just send it by saying you got the wrong essay and done.”

“I have to erase that email,” you shudder after you successfully sending the right file.

“Sure, what are you going to do? Break into his office?”

You turn your head at your friend and she frowns.

“No… no no no. Are you crazy? This might get you expelled!”

“The fanfiction itself will get me expelled!”

“Maybe he won’t read it. C’mon, you gave him another file. Why would he bother?”

“Wouldn’t you?”

“I… I guess so. But he’s a teacher.”

“So what, you think teachers have no curiosity?”

“Y/N, breathe, relax. You can’t break in anyways, the cameras will see you. And how are you supposed to open an unlocked door? You may have been watching Supernatural but your bobby pin skills are shit.”

“I can… I can just wait for him to exit his office and quickly get inside and and…”

“Who doesn’t lock their office while they’re out?”

“Even for a bathroom break?” you realize that you sound stupid but right now, you couldn’t allow that man to have that piece of work in his fucking email inbox.

“Let’s say he does. What will happen when you’re seen on camera?”

“Teacher offices don’t have cameras inside.”

“And the hallway one?”

“Do you think they actually pay attention to all of them?”

“I don’t know.”

“In that case… I will enter, delete what I have to delete fast and then get out and wait at the door for him. If someone actually checks the cameras, I can say that I wanted to talk with him and I didn’t find him inside so I left his office and waited.”

“You will enter his fucking office! And stay for like at least two minutes. It only takes a quick glance inside to see that he’s absent!” your friend’s arms raise in the air exasperatedly.

“I’ll just say that I stormed in without thinking and I knocked over something in his office and picked it up to put it back in place and then...”

“You’re stupid,” she finally concludes. “Do not do that,” she stands up and heads for the next class. “Coming?”

I look at her with pleading eyes and she shakes her head. “I’m not getting into this. And neither you are. Now be a good girl and go to your next class without causing trouble.”

You had two different courses from your friend, the optional ones which were split into two groups because of the large number of students who applied for them. Unfortunately, you were in the last group because of your last name’s first letter and your friend was in the first one. You considered it bad luck before, but now you were happy that you would be separated from your friend for 4 hours so you could get away with your idiotic plan.

“Ok,” you mutter and feign to have lost all the interest in whatever mission you planed.

“Good.”

Ok. Breathe. You can do this, somehow.

You lean on the wall, watching from the end of the hallway the door of Mr. Hiddleston's office. Classes already started so it means he has no courses for now. Perfect. It's near lunch break so he might actually get out to grab something while he still has free time. And indeed he does, only that he locks the door. You hide behind the corner as he turns around and heads for somewhere.

Maybe she was right… Who would leave their office door unlocked? Your concentration draws back to Mr. Hiddleston's gracious form entering back into his office, carrying some papers. Damn. This will be harder than you have expected. You really hoped that there's going to be an opening but two hours pass and you're still there. He leaves from the office two more times by the third hour, each time locking the door. When you almost give up, another door cracking sound gets your attention and your teacher leaves his office WITHOUT unlocking the door. Your mouth drops for a few seconds, then run to the room you have been watching. Your heart pounds like crazy when you get in and quickly head for his computer. You click on the Gmail icon and your chest stings. He is not logged in. Why??? A low groan escapes your throat and right at that moment the door flings open, displaying Mr. Hiddleston in full grace. Your eyes widen and hands start to tremble on the desk while he actually doesn’t seem that surprised by your presence.

“You’d better have an extraordinarily believable excuse for this situation Miss Y/N. Or this is going to get a lot worse than it already is.”

Your breath is caught in your throat, chest clenching in panic. You would find this exciting if you were living in your damn fanfiction, but this is real life and the chances of being expelled are now very high.

“I'm… I… Mr. Hiddleston,” your eyes are fixed on his strong gaze, burning holes into your flushed face.

“See Miss Y/N, you're not very subtle at spying someone. And I want to believe you're more than just a cheating student, which I actually doubt it since you have been ranked top of this course for quite some time.”

“I AM SO SORRY. I… I WAS WRITING SOMETHING ELSE DURING TODAY'S CLASS BECAUSE I READ ALL THE NOTES YOU GAVE, NOT JUST THE INTRODUCTION THAT YOU ASSIGNED SO I MADE THE BAD CHOICE TO CONTINUE WORKING ON THAT… SOMETHING ELSE BUT I PANICKED WHEN YOU SAW ME AND INSTEAD OF HOMEWORK I HAVE SENT YOU THE DOCUMENT I WAS WRITING AND IT IS VERY PERSONAL THEREFORE I WANTED TO DELETE IT BEFORE YOU COULD SEE IT!” your voice becomes higher and shaky as you speak.

“And why didn't you just send the correct file afterward?”

“I did but... I was afraid that you might still check the first one.”

Mr. Hiddleston scoffs, “What do you take me for? I have no interest in other than the essay I asked for.”

“I… knew… it.”

“But you still thought it was a good idea to sneak into my office?”

“Just in case you might accidentally…”

“Enough!” his stern voice startles you and you yelp.

“This is a very serious situation. However I do not have time to deal with it now,” his presence moves next to yours and you back up from the desk. He types something, the silence between you two killing you. He motions to move closer and you do so.

“Is this the wrong one?” he points.

You nod, afraid to make another sound which might upset him further. He presses the delete button and you would have enjoyed this accomplishment if it weren’t for the given situation. You want to melt into the ground.

“Now get out!” his tone was calmer this time although you can still sense the annoyance. With your head slightly bowed, you apologize again and storm out the door.

He couldn't just believe his eyes. You actually had the audacity to break into a teacher’s office. Was that wrong document even the real reason? Or was it a lie for some sabotage? His mind was going wild with scenarios, and he couldn't handle himself. Curiosity? At first, he might not have opened both files but after you have just risked getting expelled for some stupid document, he admits that it stirred some curiosity. But now he could cover it up with the fact that he has to make sure this whole situation happened truly because of that personal thing.

He pinches the bridge of his nose and seats on his leather chair, his hand involuntarily retrieving your email from the Bin Folder. He opens it and a single-page story pops out on the computer screen. He scans the writing and can’t figure what exactly that is. It’s a story for sure... with a teacher? At the end of the file, there’s a link and he almost has second thoughts but clicks on it anyways and a Tumblr page opens in his browser. What is he doing? He knows that this kind of site has, different things and here he is: a grown ass adult checking a student personal material. Now, he probably would have stopped if it weren’t for you breaking into his office, so he throws away any guilt and starts reading whatever popped on the site. And then his mouth drops. This is a written fantasy of yours with… a teacher. He shakes his head and closes his eyes for a moment. This is an actually pleasingly written piece of work, though it’s all, adult content. He shifts in his seat, already feeling a little bit turned on by the amazingly details given. However, he’s soon hard enough when he reads the description of the teacher and becomes aware of the similarities between him and the character…He shakes his head, maybe it’s just his imagination, but then, a specific comment catches his attention.

Tumblr user comment: This is so good! Can you tell us which celebrity do you portray as the teacher?

Your comment: Oh! I actually do not have one. I could say I am inspired by someone real /wink/, but can’t reveal more. I don’t want to get kicked out because I daydream of my teacher hahaha

Tumbler user comment: Omg, author has a hot teacher! Keep up with the good work!

You have been writing your sexual fantasies about him, during his own class. He is struck by your boldness and can’t admit this doesn’t thrill him. Of course, he is aware he has a specific presence, students might swoon over him and it was possible that some might even daydream about different scenarios. The fact that you are one of the most down to Earth and most talented students he has ever meet, has some stirring effect to his own self. He would have never imagined this kind of scandalous relationship even if he’s a college teacher for master degree courses and the given situation isn’t exactly illegal or forbidden. He always sees his students as just his students. He groans and closes the page quickly.

This won’t do it. Just erase everything you read from your  mind and act as if this never happened, Tom.

Taglist opened(please mention which one do you want): 

Loki/ Tom Hiddleston taglist: @drakesfiance , @cutiepotpie177 , @brokenthelovely , @ultrailoveharrystylesblog, @mooncrow123 , @heart-shaped-hell

[alphabees-writes]

Glee - S1 E3 (Acafellas)

“I’m excited to watch this one, only because I remember actually really liking the Acafellas covers? Let’s see how hard I cringe now!

I’d have to guzzle wine if I had to have dinner with Terri too, Will’s mom...

“Oh it’s just hamburger casserole! Look out for bones.” Lucky for you she likes her casserole boneful!

Sign #8 That Mr Schuester Is An Asshole: Deciding to announce Terri’s pregnancy to his parents WELL before the 12 week standard, without asking her first. He literally springs it on her. Yeah she’s awful, but so is he right now!

“I started at Zuckerman and Zuckerman while I was in college” Alternate timeline where Lauren Zises and Puck start a business together confirmed?

Is it mean of me to be distracted by how HUGE Will’s dad’s ears are...?

Theme of the day: Placating William Schuester’s ego

Quinn calling Rachel “sweetie” even though it’s dripping with sarcasm just makes my Faberry bones jingle

The way Quinn says “Did you ever perform Mr Schuester?” is a god damn SMACK! DOWN! 

Emma roasting John Stamos, who will be her husband in about a season’s time, is golden

Will spends too much time in Emma’s office. Aren’t the students meant to have appointments? There’s no way there’s a single school in the world where the counselling service isn’t totally overwhelmed with a mile long waiting list

The “For he’s a jolly good fellow” scene is me and my sister every time we hang out

Will turning into the camera to kick off “THIS IS HOW WE DO IT” is one of the better transitions on this show, honestly

This is one of the few occasions I actually like Matt Morrison’s delivery a lot. He genuinely sounds like he has no idea how awkward this group would be to watch...

Ahh... Nothing squicks me out quite like the face of William Schuester when he knows he’s about to get some coochie

Sign #9 That Mr Schuester Is An Asshole: Rachel and Quinn tell him his dance moves are old fashioned, and he starts being completely absent in rehearsals... Very professional of you William

The way he says “whatever” to Rachel makes me want to throw him into a bonfire

“Do you see anybody else in here with a plate of ‘I’m sorry’ cookies? BOOM! Smack DOWN!

Again, Finn just straight up not knowing what anything is is making my god damn day

Of COURSE she’s still upset Finn, you bozo! YOU PULLED A KISS-NUT-RUN!

How Many Times Can We Fit The Word Guts Into One Episode Challenge

Quinn and Santana are filling Sue in, but Brittany’s missing. I like to think she’s lost.

Wow for a while I forgot Santana and Puck were ever a thing... Can I re-forget it?

How can Mercedes look at Kurt in THAT jacket and think “yeah, that’s a heterosexual right there” I just. I can’t

Mercedes: Have you ever kissed anybody? Kurt: Yes. If by someone you mean the tender crook of my eLbOw... I’ve never wanted to be an elbow before wow!

Kurt and Mercedes reminding one another that they’re the best people within a 100 mile radius? Perfect.

“Every moment of your life is an opportunity for fashion” is a GREAT philosophy until you’re me and have about as much style as a dumpster raccoon

POISON! I hate that I actually like this cover...

You ready Ken? I’m ready. You ready Oooooonrie? I’m ready Will, are you?  Like, just pull the plug RIB

I can’t complain about how supportive Will’s parents are tbh it’s kinda wholesome?

Why was Figgins at this random acapella show...? Nice of him to show up anyway

“Is it too late to call Will Schuester the next Micheal Buble?” YES. Don’t sully the name of Mr Christmas himself

Oh wow. They really dragged Josh Groban into this! I nearly forgot...

MERCEDES LOOKS CUTE AS HELL IN THOSE SUSPENDERS!!! AND TINA’S WEARING THE MOST BEAUTIFUL SHIRT??? GIRLS!!!

Ah, the form-fitting sweaters that stop at the knee... Where would we be without them? Well, idk, if Burt Hummel was in charge apparently we’d all have nice cars

Kurt bb you have no idea you’re being asked out do you??? Bless your heart. Also poor Mercedes, she thinks he said yes...

I’m sorry, but NO car wash is going to raise you $8000. I don’t care if you’re washing those cars with caviar, it’s just not gonna happen!

Sign #10 That Mr Schuester Is An Asshole: Henri ends up in the ER because he’s been chugging cough syrup like it’s Redbull and all he cares about is not being able to twerk for Josh Groban :/

Imagine seeing an ad for the Acafellas on fucking craigslist. Sign up now, feet pics optional!

Sign #11 That Mr Schuester Is An Asshole: Belittles Finn for wanting to quit glee, while completely ignoring and neglecting glee.

Imagine your high school Spanish teacher holding you back after class to ask you to join his acapella band ._.

Puck join glee for MILFs and ONLY for MILFs. That’s all he wanted

Santana told Puck she ended it over his credit score but really it was all the heterosexuality

Oh god for a second I thought the first cougar was Santana’s mother I nearly flipped

“I also stopped beating people up so much” is ICONIC

Hey Ken! Maybe stop grabbing your student like that? Thanks! fuckhead

“My BOWELS have better moves than you” God damn it. I want to hate Puck, and I think we all know why, but... I love this character. 

ThAt BaSeBaLl ThInG sUrE wAs GoOd Mr ScHuE!

I know this isn’t the point of this scene, but I NEED to see Kurt just walking around school in a corset. Just chilling in his lessons like that? Icon.

Mercedes asking Kurt to be her boyfriend is PAINFUL but also I fucking love her confidence? She knows what she wants! It’s just a shame she vandalises his car right after :/ 

Kurt’s FACE when Mercedes says “Rachel?!” He can’t believe he lucked out like that oh my goodness

SHE SMASHED THE WINDOW. HIS FACE OH MY GOD. Why are all the half-naked Cheerios polishing the busted car now 

Amber busts some MOVES for this number... She kills it. I mean, don’t smash cars up kids, but if you do make sure you know your choreography for after!

It must’ve been so much fun to smash up that car for the dance oh my goodness. Did they have to shoot that in one take? Or did they just have a line of Navigators out back? RIB will never wear form-fitting sweaters that stop at the knee ever again...

“Well you busted my heart!” Ok Mercedes but like... He didn’t put a fucking ROCK through it he just doesn’t know what dates are???

Mercedes sticks up for Artie, and then Kurt sticks up for them both when Dakota Stanley starts being a bitch... They’re wonderful friends! So proud of them

Ok he’s a little gremlin man but “I feel like a WOODLAND CREATURE!” is still something I quote

I know Rachel’s nose is a recurring thing but... It’s not a bad nose? Like, at all? It suits her perfectly, and it’s not noticeably large?

Will you really don’t need to be that close to fix Finn’s tie. In fact, you don’t need to fix it at all?

I know you’re not gonna sing THAT song!

They did NOT pay Josh Groban enough for any of this. Especially not “Josh Groban loves a blousy alcoholic”

“I’m a teacher... And a really good one” Are you, Mr Schue? Are you?

The look on Kurt’s face when he comes out to Mercedes... You can see the panic there. His eyes. Oh god. And then she ACCEPTS HIM because HE’S WONDERFUL THE WAY HE IS and she’s a GOOD FRIEND!!! Oh god he’s tearing up I’m going to cry...

Although I’m not 100% in love with the way she implies that telling everybody in the glee club is as simple as being true to himself. He’s not ashamed, Mercedes, he’s terrified... Although I know her heart is in the right place. She just wants him to know they’ll accept him at the end of the day!

He’s crying... My baby boy...

Sue permanently has old Cheerios footage playing on the TV in her office, because of course she does!

Quinn can say Sue taught her that lesson, but we all know she learned it from Rachel. With whom she is in love, of course.

Ahh, the first real Faberry moment... Delicious. Finally, some good fucking food!

[thecloserkin]

fic rec: Are You Mine? and I Want Some More by PoetHrotsvitha

fandom: Assassin’s Creed: Syndicate

pairing: Evie Frye/Jacob Frye

word count: 54k and 50k respectively (one is a direct sequel to the other)

Is it canon: yes

Is it explicit: this is the most explicit material i have thus far reviewed on this blog

Is it endgame: yesssss

Is it shippable: yes

One thing you guys should know about me is I don’t read a great deal of smut. I don’t actively avoid it either, and I for sure consume more smut in the context of fanfic than in professional published fiction because I feel the following quote in my bones: “It wasn’t that friendship needed to be sexualized, it was that erotica needed to be … friendship-ized.” So when I stumbled on this fic that is 80% smut stretched over the thinnest pretext of plot, based on source material I have zero familiarity with, what did I do but fall headlong for this pairing and this story. Bless you, anon who brought Fryecest to my attention, and praise the Lord for modern AUs where knowledge of canon is not mandatory.

Jacob and Evie Frye are twins born into an Assassin family and raised by their exacting taskmaster of a father to take down the Templars. There’s no Templars or Assassins in this modern AU of course, just Evie’s looming A-Levels and their absent academic of a father. Evie’s still the golden child, of course—she’ll follow in their father’s footsteps and get her Ph.D. Jacob is the problem child. He’s already fallen in with the Wrong Crowd, he’s impulsive, he drinks and gambles and mostly solves problems with his fists. His relationship with their dad is hella strained. And because this is supposed to be PWP the author wastes no time in ratcheting the sexual tension up to 11 by having Jacob pick Evie up from her posh school on his MOTORCYCLE, each of them pretending not to be so turned on they could have combusted from desire by the end of the ride. Cool cool cool.

Their relationship begins barreling in a dom/sub direction almost from the word go. Evie is one thousand percent the take-charge, Type-A personality, so the idea is that she needs to relinquish that control in the bedroom, and Jacob is the only one she trusts to dominate her. Because they’re twins and they balance each other out adfkdfkdfjdkfd. The scene in the beginning where Jacob tells her not to button up her blouse while she’s making breakfast, and she actually listens to him instead of ignoring or insulting him, holy shit that was hot. It starts so small but eventually he’s got her wearing a wireless vibrator to class and begging for her “punishment” when she takes it out without his permission because it was too distracting.

I imagine this is what the 50 Shades of Grey phenomenon was about. I haven’t read 50 Shades of Grey myself, but I’ve interacted with people who rave about it and clearly got something out of those books, bad as they were. I’m not trying to compare the quality of this story to 50 Shades of Grey—it’s lightyears superior to that dreck—just that when I finished this fic I had the dazed realization that this was why people read smut.

There’s a throwaway line in Jacob’s internal monologue where he muses “they seem to be going about this backwards,” because he’s buying flowers for her the day after fingering her to a screaming orgasm, and yes I am 100% here for this trope. Ffs he sits with her in the library to keep her company while she studies! He waits for her/escorts her to her one hundred and one extracurricular activities! He’s a really immature 17-year-old and he’d never dream of doing this for anyone else, but when it comes to Evie he becomes suddenly sweet and thoughtful and solicitous. He’s constantly pausing in the middle of sex to ask for her enthusiastic & affirmative consent and reminding her to use the safe word. At the same time he’s madly jealous when anyone else shows a flicker of interest in her and he regularly makes her admit he “owns” her during their role-play. They are each other’s firsts which for some reason is really important to me in these kinds of they’re-teenagers-exploring-their-sexuality setups. This is Evie hitting up the lingerie boutique in preparation for their FIRST WEEKEND GETAWAY:

“I’m going away for the weekend with my-” Evie almost stumbled on the word, “-boyfriend.” What a strange concept.

I AM TRASH FOR THIS INCEST TROPE i love the way she stumbles over that word. Bc that’s not the box that Jacob occupies for her, is it? He’s much more than that. I love the way she alternates between begging him to put it in her cunt and calling him a prat and a shitheel; just because he’s the love of her life doesn’t make him stop being her insufferable little brother. You know what else I’m trash for? ALL the sneaking around tropes. One time while sexting with him in a storage closet at school she’s busted by one of the teachers and only barely has time to lock her phone before he confiscates it.

So the first fic ends with their dad finding the sexts and nudes on Evie’s phone, disowning them both, and Evie choosing to go to University of Edinburgh because their dad knows too many people at Oxbridge. The twins get a flat together and it’s happily ever after. Except no! In the sequel it’s ten years later and Evie and Jacob have returned to the house they grew up in to say goodbye to their dying father, and they’re ESTRANGED OH NO WHAT HAPPENED. Evie has a four-year-old in tow. We find out in fairly short order that the kid is Jacob’s, but Jacob doesn’t find out the truth until we’ve sent him through the angst wringer. The fic is about how they grieve and reconcile and how Jacob learns to parent, and this one is actually like 60% plot and I think I like it even better than the first one. This author’s note really spoke to me:

I’ve read a fair number of sibling incest modern AU fics in a few different fandoms and they all tend to end at “and then they ran away from their families and lived happily ever after/epilogue of sexy fun times possibly with the introduction of hey they've had a kid!”. And I mean I love that, don't get me wrong. But I guess I’m also weirdly preoccupied with the part about what comes after that, because it always seemed far too dreadfully simple an outcome. Normal relationships are rarely that easy, so why would these be? Then again I'm probably putting too much thought into a porn fic, LOL.

DEAR @poethrotsvitha, THIS IS A SIGNED PETITION TO PLEASE NEVER STOP OVERTHINKING THE PLOT OF YOUR PORN FICS. Like, nobody starts fucking their brother unless they really mean it, because the risk of the relationship going pear-shaped and the two of you still being stuck in each other’s orbit because there’s no “breaking up” with family? That’s a big risk. And also why incest pairings feel so high-stakes and I am trash for them, obvs. One of the reasons the dom/sub dynamic is so integral to their relationship was because Evie had a tendency to dictate to Jacob what he “can and can’t do,” and he understandably chafed against it sometimes. It’s what led to their breakup five years ago. And so him taking charge in the bedroom is a kind of counterbalance, and there’s a scene in this fic where she lets him role-play a noncon situation as a way to partly soothe his jealousy.

To a large extent it’s their son who brings about their reconciliation, but their son is also a hyperactive little git who throws a monkey wrench in their sex life, so now instead of hiding their relationship from their dad they’re tiptoeing around a four-year-old. And the big character development that happens on Jacob’s part is him recognizing that Thomas is Evie’s #1 priority now, and there comes a moment where he has to make a difficult decision to prioritize the two of them in his own life, too (by quitting his job and ending a toxic relationship). The other thing I really liked was how Jacob thinks ruefully he could have gone a another round if he were ten years younger, which he’s not, but Evie seems satisfied and that’s what matters. The recognition that he’s not a teenager anymore, and doesn’t have the stamina of one, but he’s also more mature and this time he’ll be able to give Evie what she needs? Oh, my heart. Like I said I loved them being each other’s firsts as teenagers but this, this second chance they’ve got as adults, this is beautiful.

Ok so this is Evie begging Jacob to fuck her in a closet in the middle of their dad’s funeral service??!:

“Please, I just need to forget. Just for a little bit- I need to forget, please-” Oh, God, this was a terrible idea. A terrible idea that she would die before she stopped- she felt like an addict after years of sobriety, pushed by stress and grief to needing that all-consuming high that she'd never quite been able to forget. Her fingers worked at his belt, pulling it open, unbuttoning his trousers to draw the heel of her palm along where he was already hard. “Evie,” he rasped, shuddering against her touch. “Shh,” she said, tucking his pants down enough to pull his cock free, giving it a few firm strokes. “Shh.” If they talked, it would be too real. It had to be rushed and frantic, to feel like it was just the once, to ease the ache in her chest.

And this is after they finish (“if only it could have lasted forever”):

Silently, she turned to let him zip up her dress … There was a warmth against the back of her neck as she felt him draw her hair aside and press a kiss to the sensitive skin, hesitant and uncertain.  "Thank you," she breathed into the darkness, listening to the click of his belt as it slid back into place.  He just sighed, leaning his forehead against her shoulder, saying a million things without speaking a word. 

LEANING HIS FOREHEAD FOR A MILLISECOND AGAINST HER SHOULDER OMFG I AM DECEASED

Ok so to return an earlier point: When you want a canon incest happy ending in a modern setting (as opposed to if you’re both Targaryens) the most popular option is run away and live as an unrelated couple, which necessitates cutting ties with everyone you’ve ever known. This may be more or less difficult depending on the quantity and quality of those ties; unless this is Flowers in the Attic and you’ve literally been locked in the attic for years there’s bound to be people you care about other than your sibling so this is a monumental ask. The Fryes choose option B, “living openly as siblings and keeping the incest on the dl”. This option is not without risk, of course, since exposure is always a possibility, and Evie has to put up with the other moms at Thomas’s preschool eyeing Jacob like a piece of meat. Still, it means Thomas gets to bake cookies with his grandmother, who would not have let Evie and Jacob back in her life if they flaunted the truth. I mean, it’s not that she doesn’t know her kids are fucking, it’s just that a don’t-ask-don’t-tell policy allows everyone’s relationships to remain intact:

She seemed to be struggling to get the words out. “Is Thomas…” There were a few ways that this question could go, as far as Jacob could see, and he didn’t particularly want to deal with any of them. He leaned against the counter, palms rigid against the cold surface. “I’m really tired, Mother.” “I know. I just…” There was a terrible pause. “Are— are you and Evie…” Still facing the toaster, Jacob closed his eyes. He couldn’t muster a lot of fake outrage, but he planned to deny everything anyway. He didn’t care about how plausible it was. It was easier for everyone that way, especially Mother. Before he could open his mouth, though, Mother’s chair scraped back. “Actually, never mind. It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

Every Wednesday Evie (who’s moved back in with her mom) leaves Thomas with his grandma and goes to “book club” which is really date night at Jacob’s. And the two of them get right up to their old tricks:

When he gave her just the slightest nudge upwards with his hips, she finally let a broken whisper rasp out. “I can't- I want- please-” Jacob clicked his tongue. “You know what I want you to say.” She twisted her neck around again, and he could see that her eyes were now glassy with longing. “Huh?” “It's simple— just ‘My greedy cunt belongs to my brother’. “ “I will not."

The process of turning that initial “no” into a “yes” is scorchingly hot so there you go, I love these two, I love this fic, I have definitely seen the light and I'm ready to embrace smut.

[the-lupine-sojourner]

Love Conquers Amnesia [Amnesiac!Eijiro/Takara(OC)]

Hiya! I saw This video and couldn’t help thinking about KiriKara (my name for the ship. I can’t think of a better one, so if you can, leave it in a comment below!), and this is the result!  Anyway, in writing it and trying to think of a realistic way for Kiri to lose his memory, I kinda veered from the video when I meant to practically quote it, but I also like this version, so here we are! Also, if you want more domestic KiriKara, send an Ask or message me and I’ll totally write it (as long as it’s not smut. Sorry!)!!

Real quick before I begin, @dailyojiromashirao is pretty much on my permanent MHA writing taglist, cus they’re always so sweet and supportive! Love you! And maybe @elite-guard-hardygal would enjoy this, too?? IDK. Feel free to ignore, lovey! 

Now that that’s done, I will only this before we begin; I hope you all enjoy! 

God Bless and Good Day!

~The Lupine Sojourner

(P.S: This guy is my headcanon/faceclaim for Adult!Eijiro, btw. I haven’t seen Bleach, but I know he’s a character in that show. This is the face Kiri makes when he sees his waifu but doesn’t remember her yet. She startles him with her beauty! XD)

Statistically, it was probably more shocking that it took so long for this to happen, given our profession.

But, it was still very shocking to get a call in the middle of a daytime patrol. “Are you Mrs. Takara Kirishima?” The person on the other end asks. I gulp.

“Yes, this is she. Who’s calling?” I ask as politely as I can.

“The receptionist at Sanno Hospital. I’m calling to report your husband’s admittance.” Instantly, my heart plummets into my toes, and the temperature seems to drop below freezing.

“O-oh...I...Is he..?”

“He’s in surgery. We’re still unsure precisely what happened, but more details are emerging the longer we have him. The doctors are very hopeful, however.” I can’t help but not feel comforted by those words. Something could always happen. It only took one wrong move, one instant, for everything to change.

“O-okay. I’ll be there in around thirty minutes. Thank you.” I say, then hang up. I race back to my agency. The one Kiri and I shared, like everything else. I rip off my headgear and toss it into the locker along with my belt, all while calling out the situation, before sprinting for my- -our- -car. We were supposed to drive home together and have a family movie night with our five-year-old son, Senshi.

This wasn’t supposed to happen! Kiri had an amazingly defensive Quirk. How could someone have hospitalized him?!

=#=#=#=#=

“The story we’ve pieced together from the data we’ve collected is this;” the doctor explains when I arrive. “your husband was fighting an unknown villain, and somehow suffered trauma to the head, resulting in the loss of the fight, and…”

“What?” I press urgently. I needed to know!

“Well, with brain injuries...memories are the easiest to lose, we’ve found. It appears your body automatically purges memories first instead of the knowledge of how to breathe, for example. I’m sorry, Mrs. Kirishima, but there is a strong possibility that your husband won’t remember much when he wakes up.” I thank him for telling me absently, eyes peeking into the room, to Kiri laying still on the bed. “And we’re not sure when he’ll wake up. We hardly had to use anesthesia on him for the surgery; he was unconscious when he was admitted, but without any real indication that we could find as to why. I’m sorry.” I nod.

“Thanks for doing what you could, doc.” I murmur, walking slowly into the room. The man smiles sadly at me and leaves me to sit beside Kiri. His hair had to be combed down and messed around so they could run tests to see why he was still out cold, and the black hospital gown looked incredibly odd on him. His chest rose and fell rhythmically. It seemed to lull me into a doze, one I tried to fight without much luck.

=#=#=#=#=

It’s only a few hours later that I wake up, and Kiri still isn’t awake. I hold in a groan and stand, stretching out my back and arms that were sore from sleeping in the chair.

I wasn’t planning on leaving til Kiri woke up and I could ascertain for myself his condition, so I watch him. His chest goes up and down and the heart rate monitor beeps incessantly as time creeps by. It was unknown how long I sat there before I started to fall asleep again. I shook myself. I wouldn’t fall asleep again until I saw Kiri awake.

So I stood again, deciding to leave briefly to get a cup of coffee and call people. Mainly Ma, Pa (what I call Mr. and Mrs. Kirishima) and Katsuki. They deserved to know what had happened.

It went about as well as expected. They were upset (Katsuki vowing to roast Kiri for being so sloppy as to let that villain get a hit on him), but promised to get here soon.

I then got my coffee and headed back to Kiri’s room, only to find him standing and gazing at the sunrise out of his window, his IV pole clutched beside him. 

I gulp. Time to see what was what with him. I grin and walk over. “Beautiful, huh?” I ask, sipping the coffee. He flinches, jerking his head to look at me.

“Yea- -uh...did...did the doctors send you?” He asks, stunned, cheeks red. I blanch. Of course. Memory loss was a high probability, the doctor had said.

“N-no.” I murmur, gulping the coffee to avoid talking. How was I supposed to deal with this?! How long would this last?!

“Wow…” He breathes, taking me in and smiling. “You must be the prettiest woman in the whole world.” It’s almost like he wasn’t aware he was talking out loud. I blush. Even without memories of our marriage, he was attracted to me. 

“Thanks.” I reply, chuckling. It then drops. “...Do you know my name?” I ask tentatively. Eijiro frowns, scanning me again.

“...I’m sorry, but no...should I?” I sigh. Of course he wouldn’t remember...

“Takara.” I reply. “It’s Takara Kirishima.” There. I’d kinda told him. He’d have to piece it together now. His eyes narrow in thought, then go wide.

“Are you my sister?” He asks. I snort.

“No. No, I’m not.”

“Cousin?” I smile.

“Not a cousin, either.”

“...Then...what?” He asks shyly. I roll my eyes.

“I’m your wife, dummy.” I chuckle, ruffling his hair. He blinks several times, then grabs my left hand. I slip the glove I hadn’t taken off and he stares at the simple sterling silver band around my ring finger.

“...We’re married?” He exclaims, staring at my face now. I grin proudly and nod.

“Yeah. For almost six years now.”

“Whoa, really?! How do I not remember that?! Man, I hit the jackpot!” I chuckle, scratching the back of my head, cheeks scarlet. Wow...

“The doctors aren’t really sure. You were admitted to the ER unconscious and had to go into a brief surgery to try and determine what happened. They still don’t know, but my guess is a Quirk’s to blame.” Kiri nods.

“I have one, too, right? A Quirk?” I nod.

“Yup. You can harden your body using your body’s carbon. Downside is you can’t do it forever.” He frowns, then grins happily.

“I think...I think I remember that!” He cries. “I use it to fight, don’t I?”

“Yup. You’re a hero. You help a lot of people at our agency.”

“Our agency?” Eijiro asks, head tilted. I grin.

“Yeah!” Just then, I hear the door open behind us. I glance over and see Katsuki glaring from the doorway, only halfway out of his costume, as well.

“Hey! Shitty Hair! Remember me?!” Kiri turns.

“...You know me?” He asks. Katsuki does a double-take, then scoffs.

“Right. Forgot. You let a villain hit you with some dumb memory loss Quirk. Your wife called me. I was closer than your parents are, but they’ll be here.”

“Oh. Thanks.” Kiri murmurs, looking at Katsuki’s outfit. “...Are you a hero, too?” Katsuki flinches in irritation, then deflates.

“Yeah. So’s your wife, dumbass.”

“Katsuki, thanks for coming, but don’t be mean.” I warn. I knew, however, that this was just Katsuki being Katsuki. He didn’t really mean it.

“Ground Zero, right? That’s...that’s your hero name?” Kiri suddenly asks, eyes lighting happily. Katsuki smirks.

“Finally, you remember something!” I roll my eyes.

“He remembered his Quirk and that he was a hero before you got here.” I point out.

“I don’t remember my hero name, though. Or yours, Takara. Sorry.” I wave that aside.

“No worries! You wanted to model your hero image after Crimson Riot, so you chose Red Riot as your hero name as an homage.” Eijiro’s eyes light up.

“Oh, right! He’s so manly and hardcore! What’s yours?” I chuckle and rub the back of my neck awkwardly. It always sounded weird when I explained it out loud.

“Well, I’ve always liked foxes and wolves, so I chose Kitsune as my hero name.”

“That’s awesome!” I laugh.

“You had that reaction the day we chose our hero names, too.” I reminisce fondly.

“Yeah, back when you two made dopey heart-eyes at each other in class and we all pretended we didn’t see and wanna puke.” Katsuki adds, scoffing and crossing his arms. His smirk betrays his happiness, though.

“Really?” Eijiro asks, eyeing me.

“We-well, it was more like I made the heart-eyes and then, ah- -do you recall something called the USJ incident? It happened almost nine years ago…” Eijiro frowns.

“I...I think so. We were in some huge building, right? Combat training?” I shake my head.

“No.” I grimace. Even now, the memory was painful, my ribs recalling that day easily. “We were supposed to be doing rescue training.” I murmur. “Then villains attacked. My mom nearly died. She was our teacher.” Eijiro frowns.

“Oh. Right. I was the one who found you, right? Against a fountain with a nearly collapsed ribcage?” I nod.

“Yeah. That was a tough week.” He nods.

“Ah, you babies got over it.” Katsuki muses. “If you ask me, that’s when you two nerds started liking each other and making everyone around you nauseous with your mushy attitude.” Eijiro then blushes and tilts his head, scratching the back of his neck.

“Uh...Takara, I’ve been meaning to ask...do we have kids?” I smile, pulling my phone out. I pull up a picture of Senshi at his fifth birthday (just a few weeks ago), sharp teeth on display as he grins at the camera.

“Yeah; a son, Senshi.” My hand goes to my stomach subtly. I’d planned to tell him the revelation I’d had this morning, the one still waiting on our bathroom sink. But not now. I’d wait til he had more memories to tell him, though. Eijiro stares at the picture for a long minute or two, gently taking my phone.

“He’s just like me…” He murmurs. I nod.

“Yeah.” His black hair came from his father, but the large brown eyes were from my side. It was adorable, and an instant recipe for success on his end when he gave me the infamous ‘puppy eyes’. “He’s a good kid.”

“Yeah, that brat’s alright.” Katsuki admits, scoffing a little. Surprisingly, Katsuki handled Senshi well. He wasn’t usually too forceful and angry with the kid. He’d really come a long way since our high school days, when he’d terrified any child that dared look at him wrong.

“I can’t believe we’re married and have a kid..” Eijiro murmurs thickly, and I notice tears on his cheeks. “How could I have forgotten you? I’m sorry, Takara...I’m so sorry…” I hug him, tears forming in my eyes.

“Eiji, it’s okay.” I murmur, rubbing his back as he clutches me. “It’s not your fault.”

“If I’d just taken care of that villain, none of this would’ve happened.” Eijiro sobs. I blink.

“So...you remember?” I ask, drawing back just enough to look him in the eye.

“Bits and pieces. The more we talked, the more I remembered. The picture of Senshi was like the final key.” He says. “That guy’s Quirk wasn’t affected by my Hardening, and it only took a touch for it to work.” 

“Great, you remember, now stop dancing around each other and kiss already.” Katsuki grumbles before I can react. I laugh and hug Eijiro again. He’s blushing as we part a few moments later.

“...Can we?” He asks. “Can we kiss?” It was exactly what he’d said, the morning he’d confessed. We’d gone sunrise hiking and he’d asked that as we watched the dawn unfold. I smile and play with his hair, just like I had that morning.

“Of course you can.” I reply, continuing the reenactment, and he all but tackles me in elation, kissing me so eagerly, I’m pretty sure my lips are swollen and bruised.

“Oi! I know i told you to kiss, but come on! Knock it off!” Katsuki growls. I smile into the kiss and deepen it, knowing it would piss Katsuki off. Sure enough, he growls and is stalking over when Eiji pulls back to stick his tongue at Katsuki.

“Oh, lay off!” He replies. “You’re just jealous cus you’re still single.” Katsuki growls and grabs the front of Eiji’s hospital gown.

“What did you say?!” Katsuki growls.

“Oh, good; I see we were worried for nothing.” Comes the voice of my mother-in-law. I look behind Katsuki and wave.

“Hi, Ma!” I call. I generally call Mrs. Kirishima ‘Ma’ or ‘Mama’, and Mom...well, ‘mom’. “Turns out, Eiji got hit by a Quirk that knocks you out and gives you amnesia, but it’s nullified by showing the victim photos or talking about the missing memories, evidently. He remembers.” 

Ma nods. “Thank goodness.” Eijiro hugs his parents.

“Hey, guys.”

“Hello, Eijiro.” Ma replies. Pa smiles and ruffles his son’s hair.

“Gave us quite a scare there, son.” He says. “But, of course, you pulled through!” Eijiro nods.

“Cus Kirishima men always win!” He says proudly, fist-pumping his dad. I roll my eyes. That was part of the reason Kiri was so upset in Middle School; his father encouraged bravery and manliness in his son and when Eijiro failed to act in that attack, it whacked his self-esteem.

But, over time, he’d become every inch a brave, manly hero. And an even better man to be married to. I side-hug him and squeeze his side reassuringly. “And the Kirishima women will always support their man.” I add, chuckling as Ma nods.

“Agreed. Knew I liked you when I met you, Kara.” I grin.

This was what we’d always have; a family to fall back on, no matter how bad or weird things get. Family is priority. Always.

Crappy ending is crappy, but hope you liked the rest! XD

[tveckling]

For @dreamingofketchup AO3

Tybalt gazed upon the rows of burning candles, some having already burned out. They were the last candles in the church still lit, and Tybalt would snuff them out soon enough. First he just wanted to look at them a while. Relax. Enjoy the peace, the silence, the knowledge of being alone.

There was still the smell of incense hanging heavy in the air after the afternoon mass—not strange, considering how it had ended less than half an hour earlier. Father Vincenzo, who had also held the sermon, had said goodbye to the churchgoers while Tybalt started cleaning up. He hadn't been in the church for more than a couple months but everyone was already familiar with how he preferred the task of cleaning up the church after masses rather than spend time talking with the faithful. They all let him do as he pleased, even if he had received several grave warnings about not avoiding doing God's work. Many times Tybalt wished that he was a monk in a secluded monastery instead of a priest in one of the busiest churches in Verona.

He leaned against his broom and sighed, the small gust of air disturbing the nearest candle and almost blowing out the weak flame. Instantly he froze and held his breath, letting the flickering flame recover its strength before he breathed out carefully. He would put out all the candles, just not yet.

The sound of steps was surprising, and Tybalt turned around with raised eyes, wondering if any of the other priests had forgotten something or had come to fetch him for some reason. Instead, he saw Mercutio Escalus—his shape and posture making him unmistakable even in the weak light—the Prince's nephew. Tybalt had seen him accompanying his uncle to mass every now and then, where he sat obviously and shamelessly ignoring everything going on around him, but they hadn't talked. The memories of when they were children, before Tybalt was sent away to join the priesthood, were still too strong.

"Don Mercutio," Tybalt greeted, although the words were sour on his tongue. He remembered saying 'Mercutio' with all the certainty of a child playing with a friend; now he had grown up and knew that even if he didn't have any title Mercutio was still a member of the ruling family and expected to become Prince after his uncle's death. Tybalt was just a simple clergyman without noble blood.

"Tybalt," Mercutio answered simply, a smile playing on his lips as he walked closer.

It made Tybalt bristle and he stood up straight, glaring darkly as Mercutio leaned forward and blew out a candle. He was disrespectful, too familiar, and the way he smiled sent warning clocks ringing throughout Tybalt's mind. Everyone knew he only visited the church when forced to by his uncle, the older priests had said, so what was he doing there so late and by himself? Disturbing Tybalt's peace and quiet. What nerve he had.

"If you wanted to speak with Father Vincenzo I'm afraid he has gone to prepare tomorrow morning's reading. Is there something I can help you with?" Tybalt asked in a polite tone, even though he wanted to curse and tell Mercutio exactly where he could go.

Mercutio hummed and blew out another candlelight. There were about a dozen and a half left, most of which would burn out within minutes, and the light was getting weaker with each burned out candle. It was tempting to chase Mercutio out of the building with help of the broom, but instead, Tybalt watched the light dance across Mercutio's face as he straightened and turned. In his memories Mercutio was a wide-eyed youth with an everlasting smirk—not attractive, not back then, but with hints about what would come. The man in front of him still had traces of the boy in him, but he had filled out the long limbs and grown into the slightly large face, and Tybalt didn't doubt that he easily turned heads wherever he went. Tybalt himself had trouble looking away, and Mercutio's smile was twisting his insides in ways few people had. It was pleasant. It was dangerous.

"You've been back in the city for a few months now, haven't you?" Mercutio asked instead of answering Tybalt. Cocking his head he placed a hand on his hip and continued, "How do you feel about it so far? Has much changed from what you remember? I can imagine it has. It has been, what, nine, ten years? You were just a child when you left and now you come back a grown man. A priest, of all things! I would never have imagined that. A blacksmith, happy to take a hammer to steel, or a city guard who could spread terror in the hearts of everyone considering committing a crime. A carpenter, a potter, or an armorer. Perhaps even a sculptor. I could imagine plenty of professions for you, but a priest? That was far beyond what I could stretch my good graces to imagine."

The sound of Mercutio's bright laughter made Tybalt clench his jaw and he took a deep breath, just like he had been taught. He had to learn to calm his temper, his teachers had said uncountable times, he was too easily provoked.

"You're really a man now, though."

Tybalt opened his eyes to find that Mercutio had come closer, standing only an arm's length away. His smile sent shivers down Tybalt's back, which Tybalt ignored with all his might. Instead, he set his jaw and stared Mercutio straight in the eyes. It only made Mercutio smile wider.

"I wouldn't have thought anything else, of course," Mercutio continued easily, waving a hand in the air. "No person can avoid the passage of time, so it's only in accordance with nature that you have grown up and become a man. You're 22 now, aren't you? I remember you being almost a year older than me." Mercutio hummed and took another step. "Do you remember when we were children? We were always together, either fighting or playing some game. Do you remember that? You used to make fun of Benvolio and Romeo—the Montague boys, I'm sure you remember them—until I broke your nose. You broke my arm in that fight. Took half a year to fully recover," Mercutio said with a chuckle. Another step.

Tybalt stood his ground, his grip on the broom in his hands tight enough that he idly wondered if the wood would break. He didn't know what to say, and even if he had Mercutio didn't pause long enough for him to get out any words. The distance between them was shortening. The flickering candlelight, along with the still strong smell of incense, gave the situation a strange, otherworldly feeling.

"You came to accept them, though, after that. Sometimes I think you even considered them your friends. And you and me, we were... special." Another step. "You were smaller than me, do you remember that? I was so skinny but taller than anyone else our age. I always gloated about it, holding things out of reach just for the fun of it. You used to kick me in the shins to get me down on the ground, remember? And now you're taller than me. I suppose it is one of fate's blessings." Another step.

Tybalt could see the details of Mercutio's face, even in the weak light, and he felt rooted to the spot. Those eyes stared at him, dark and inscrutable with burning intensity. Every so often he found himself staring at Mercutio's lips, following their movements, drinking in every sound. He didn't know what was happening, but Mercutio's voice seemed magical, keeping his mind blank. Absent-mindedly he realized that he was only taking very shallow breaths, silent breaths, as if he was afraid to disturb the sound of the other man's voice. He didn't want Mercutio to stop talking; it was such a pleasant sound, caressing his skin, his ears, with every soft syllable.

"It is just one of her blessings for you. The height you so desperately wanted when you were younger. Intelligence, because why else would the priests have accepted you, and strength, by the looks of you. And your looks. You have received an appearance like no one ever thought you would. You were far from attractive, remember that? Your face and your nose were too long, you had such hollow cheeks, and your ears were too large. The girls used to make fun of you, and they were not kind, I remember that. If only they saw you now." Mercutio reached out a hand and lightly swept a lock of Tybalt's hair behind his ear. He was so close, close enough that Tybalt heard him as clearly as if he was talking when he leaned forward to whisper, "Do you remember that time we were playing hide-and-seek, and we hid in that house? The one everyone claimed was haunted. We were both jumping at the slightest sound, clinging to each other. Do you remember our kiss?"

Tybalt closed his eyes with a shiver as Mercutio breathed the last word into his ear. Of course he remembered, it was the most vibrant memory of his youth. His first kiss, with the boy he claimed as both enemy and friend. He had never been able to make himself forget it or even make himself want to forget it.

"I wonder, have you kissed someone else since then? You were sent away shortly after that. Tell me, Tybalt, what have you been up to all those lonely nights as you were growing into a man? Did you think of me? Did you remember our kiss? Did you kiss any other boys? I'm sure you have. Everyone knows what takes place between growing boys when they're left alone too long."

Tybalt fought to stop his whimper as Mercutio lightly bit his earlobe. One hand was trailing up Tybalt's arm, the other already a warm presence on Tybalt's neck. Tybalt's mind was hazy, full of the sensations surrounding him, of Mercutio's voice and his touch, the incense, the flickering light, the feeling of lips on his skin. It was like he was drunk. The only thing in clear in his mind was the want. He wanted to hear Mercutio's voice, wanted to feel him, wanted to be touched, wanted more, more, more.

"Or did your teachers teach you more than just the word of God? Everyone knows what the so-called 'holy men' do when no one is looking. Did one of them set his eyes on you perhaps? Tell me, did someone teach you all the pleasures of the bed?"

The shock of the words coming out of Mercutio's mouth brought Tybalt back to clarity with a screech, and his eyes flew open. Anger, shock, indignation all gathered within him, mixing into a ball of red-hot rage. The broom clattered to the floor before he realized he had let go of it, his hands having moved to push Mercutio back. His face was burning, much like his body was, and even if the want was still there his mind was clear again—as clear as it could be, with Mercutio so close, his skin so soft, his smile so sharp, his eyes so dark, his lips so enticing.

"What are you- how dare you say such things, in the very house of God! You speak nothing but lies, filthy tales and rumors that have been made up by people seeking to besmirch the Church. How dare you come here and accuse- out! Get out of here!"

Instead of reacting how normal people would, or at least turn and disappear, Mercutio grinned. "Is that a yes or no? You will have to clarify, I'm afraid."

If he hadn't let go of the broom he would have beat the other man to death with it. Instead, Tybalt took several steps back and turned on his heels. "I will not listen to you one more minute! If you're not leaving then I will."

"Are you really sure about that?" Now the stubborn man followed him, staying close even when Tybalt increased his speed. He was not running away, did not run. "You seemed happy to see me again and talk with me, just like I was happy to meet with you. Do you really claim that you have no interest in rekindling our, shall we say, relationship?"

"I have nothing to say to you!"

Tybalt wasn't expecting the hand that grabbed his shoulder and turned him around, pushing him up against the wall just before he could get to the nearest door. Mercutio moved in quickly, pressing his body up against Tybalt's, effectively trapping him. When Tybalt opened his mouth to curse at him he leaned in and kissed him, open-mouthed and hot.

It was so far from what Tybalt had expected, and he was so full of emotions, his body shaking from the force of them, that he responded without thinking, moaning and kissing back. He wanted it so bad, the closeness, the warmth, the continuation of where they had left off all those years ago. His hands were digging into Mercutio's clothes—silk, richly decorated, so different in every way from the plain cassock Tybalt himself wore—while Mercutio ran his fingers through Tybalt's hair. They were both breathing harder when Mercutio broke the kiss.

"It's okay, we don't have to talk at all," he said hoarsely.

"You-" Tybalt slowly opened his eyes and tried to make his fingers unclench from Mercutio's clothes. Where had all that discipline he'd been taught disappeared? Where had all his poise and calm gone, just because of one man? "You need to leave."

"But I don't want to."

Bluntly, easily, selfishly. Tybalt scrunched his eyes shut and took a deep breath, finally willing his hands to detach from Mercutio. He shook his head, ignoring the way his hands itched for the warmth. Shame burned within him, and Mercutio's easy refusal to stop his antics only made it worse.

"We are in the middle of God's house! Two men! What you are talking about, what you're doing, it's nothing but sin. A small sinful action born from curiosity made when we were children is one thing, and one I have repented for, but there is no possibility of claiming ignorance here and now. I am a priest, devoted to God and his teachings. The pleasures of the human body are forbidden for every faithful, but as I have devoted my life to God I have also forsworn the very act of procreation." Finding strength in the familiar ground Tybalt managed to open his eyes and push Mercutio back. He couldn't look at his face, though.

Mercutio took hold of Tybalt's hand before he managed to pull away, and Tybalt found it was easier to stare at their linked hands than to raise his gaze. He feared that if he faced Mercutio—he was so beautiful, he was half-remembered dreams of desire, he was warmth and pleasure and promises—he wouldn't be able to resist any longer. The only escape he could think of was to keep God in his thoughts and leave the situation as quickly as possible, leave the tempting demon behind. In daylight, his mind would be clearer and his resolution would be strong again.

"If it's the action of procreation you are fearing you don't need to worry, since we are two males, as you so acutely pointed out." Mercutio's voice was bright and amused, but his hand was soft and gentle as it held Tybalt's. "This here, what I am proposing to you, doesn't have to be sinful. A union between two people is a beautiful thing, and it can help in many ways. It creates intimacy, a feeling of trust, between them, and joy. You build a connection with your partner, one that can greatly enrich both partner's worlds. Also, if you look at it in another way it is really not that different from other joyful activities. You can study together with a dear friend, or have a heated discussion, or an energizing bout of sparring, and the results are not much different from when you lay together." Mercutio stroked the back of Tybalt's hands, small circling movements that were as hypnotizing as they were pleasant. "There is also the matter of men needing to have a release every now and then. Going too long without can be harmful to the body, I've heard. Isn't it then simply the duty of a friend to help? Let me be that friend for you," Mercutio said with a low, soft voice that seemed to caress Tybalt's skin.

Tybalt swallowed heavily and tried to ignore the growing heat between his legs. God above, he wanted. But he shouldn't. He couldn't.

"If it's a friend you're after you should still have the company of the Montagues, do you not?" Tybalt found his voice too hoarse, too obviously affected, and cleared his throat. He tried not to think about why his own words bothered him so. "I'm sure they wouldn't mind helping you out with your problem. And if not them, then I am sure there are plenty of others willing to be your friend. I don't see why you have come to me."

Mercutio chuckled and reached out a dangerously gentle hand, stroking Tybalt's cheek. "I have missed you," he said simply.

It was the earnestness in Mercutio's voice that proved too much for Tybalt to resist. Almost helplessly he raised his eyes and looked into Mercutio's face, and felt his resolve chip away. He could still see the boy in Mercutio, the beautiful and vibrant boy that he had been so drawn to and missed so much, but the man he had grown to become was pulling Tybalt to him like a moth to a flame. Mercutio was still the brazen, selfish, captivating person he had been as a child, but he had changed in how he used those qualities to entrap people. He had far more patience than he used to have, for one, and the capability of being gentle.

It shouldn't be something noteworthy. After all, Tybalt himself had changed after his time away, learning to listen and help, how to put his ego away and act according to what the situation required, and most importantly—the very reason he was sent away to join the priesthood in the first place—how to quell his anger and keep his calm. There had been too many accidents because of his temper, and he couldn't allow himself to lose control.

There hadn't been any incidents for years. He had been close to losing his temper more than once but had always managed to keep his resolve. How could it be that the person standing in front of him could take that away from him, his resolve, his discipline, so easily? He couldn't lose control of himself, couldn't let go of his control.

But he wanted, more than he had ever wanted something. Mercutio was looking at him, his hands warm and his eyes earnest and his mouth promising. He would be ready to take Tybalt into his arms and hold him and teach him everything Tybalt only knew the theory of. All he had to do was allow him.

God forgive him, he couldn't resist.

Before he could think about what he was doing Tybalt took a step forward and kissed Mercutio, focusing on the warmth of his hand. It was steady, it was a comfort, it was the touch he wanted. When Mercutio moaned and pulled him closer Tybalt closed his eyes and followed, melting into Mercutio's body. The kisses he shared with Mercutio were so different from the ones he had sneaked with other boys late at night as they tried to remain undiscovered, and he wondered why that was.

"If I had known you would fall for me if I told you I missed you it would have been the first words out of my mouth," Mercutio said with a breathless chuckle when they finally separated. He looked at Tybalt for a beat, then pulled him into another kiss, a ferocious and hungry one that made Tybalt feel like Mercutio tried to suck out his very essence through his mouth.

If it meant he continued to kiss Tybalt like that Tybalt wouldn't mind.

When Mercutio moved his hand downwards, bolder than he had been before, Tybalt jerked and grabbed his hand.

"No! We can't do- we're in the open, with anyone able to see us if they happen to walk through the doors." If he mentioned how he felt like the statues were all looking at them Mercutio would laugh, Tybalt was sure of it. "If we are doing- if we're doing this then we need to move."

Mercutio pouted, but then shrugged and looked around. The glint in his eyes when he turned back should have made Tybalt suspicious, but it only made him bite his lip hard to try and control the fire in his veins. "I know where we can go. We will be out of sight and left in peace!"

Letting Mercutio pull him by the hand brought Tybalt back to when they were children and Mercutio had just come up with a new prank or had something he desperately wanted to show. He used to pull everyone along with him then too, without regards to if they could keep up with his long legs. It felt strange, being able to keep up with him so easily, but at least Mercutio still had the unfortunate habit of forgetting the person he was pulling along. It meant that he hadn't changed too much.

Unfortunately, his mind was still as shrewd as ever, Tybalt found himself thinking bitterly as he realized exactly where Mercutio was heading.

"No. No, I will not- I refuse!"

"What? Why?" Mercutio turned around with a bright smile. "It was just finished the other day, right? I can't imagine it has been used yet. Why don't we consecrate it, combine two special occasions into one?"

"It's the confessional." Tybalt stared hard at Mercutio, feeling the urge to do less pleasant things to him rise. "You cannot honestly suggest we do such a- such a sinful act in the actual confessional booth?"

"Why not? It's just as good as any place." Mercutio tutted and strutted over to open one of the doors and peer inside. He didn't seem affected by Tybalt's glare as he sat down on the bench inside and smiled widely. "See, there's plenty of room in here. Since we're going to be so intimate we can easily fit."

"You- get out of there." Tybalt crossed his arms over his chest and glared as darkly he could.

"Come here and make me," Mercutio answered, opening his arms wide in a welcoming gesture.

Tybalt growled and marched forward into the booth, grabbing Mercutio's shoulders. He was taken aback when instead of resisting Mercutio practically jumped to his feet, but he was less surprised when Mercutio closed his arms around him and pulled him into another deep kiss. The hunger woke within Tybalt again and he groaned before pressing up against Mercutio as he kissed back.

Pressed against each other as they were Tybalt could feel Mercutio’s lips twist, and suddenly he was swallowing chuckles rather than moans. Pulling back he shook his head at Mercutio, desperately ignoring the growing part of his mind that wondered if he had messed up somewhere. Mercutio’s grin was wide, showing his teeth, but he couldn't see if it was mocking him or not.

“Why are you laughing?”

Mercutio shook his head and pressed his lips against Tybalt’s, quickly, shrugging as best he could with his arms wrapped tightly around Tybalt’s shoulders. “Must I have a reason? Try this, then: amusement, to imagine what others would think if they saw us; delight, because it's not every day I get to fuck in such grand places such as this; or, delight. Because I finally have you, in my arms, right where I have imagined you so many times.” He flashed a bright smile, a quick wink. “Choose whichever you prefer.”

Opening his mouth Tybalt tried to pick his words, but then he gave up and simply claimed Mercutio’s mouth again, relishing the happy noise he got. All he wanted was to feed the fire, feel Mercutio’s body beneath his hands, feel his shivers and twitches and learn what made his back arch. Whatever worries he might have had were decisively put away for the moment.

“How- what do we-"

Mercutio cut him off with a, surprisingly gentle, kiss. His fingers teased along Tybalt’s jaw, leaving invisible tracks that burned, a fire both from within and outside of him. Tybalt wanted nothing more than to incline his head, follow those fleeting touches.

But there was a thought, itching at the back of his head and refusing to be ignored, and Tybalt breathed out deeply. Removing his hands from where they held onto Mercutio’s hips was difficult, made harder by Mercutio’s discontent face, but with iron in his blood as taught to him Tybalt grabbed Mercutio’s hands and dragged him out of the confessional.

“Wait, Tybalt? What are you-”

“I told you,” Tybalt ground out between clenched teeth. “I will not desecrate the confessional in this way. I will not.”

“Then what exactly are you planning?” Mercutio’s tone was honeyed, but Tybalt could hear the undercurrent of incensed dissatisfaction. It didn’t help that Mercutio’s fingers were biting into his hand.

When he stopped and turned around Mercutio’s face was as blank as Tybalt had predicted, but Tybalt didn’t hesitate in stepping closer and kissing him, his hand wrapping around the side of Mercutio’s neck as he poured as much of the fire as possible into the kiss. No more were there any concerns about who might see them; all he wanted was to ease Mercutio’s bad mood, remove his sudden stiffness, prove to him that the heat he had awakened inside of Tybalt was still very much alive. And judging by the breathless, stunned look on Mercutio’s face as Tybalt pulled back, he might very well have succeeded.

“I will not defile the house of God,” Tybalt explained as he once again began moving, pulling a much more eager Mercutio with him, “so I will take you to my room in the clergy house.”

“Oh, so you are willing to defile your own room? That is good to know.” Mercutio’s thumb stroked the back of Tybalt’s hand, the innocent gesture somehow managing to send shivers down Tybalt’s back. “I suppose I will not complain, although it would have been fun to maneuver inside the booth. A bed is always to prefer, after all. I’ll teach you why,” Mercutio purred.

Tybalt swallowed and his feet started moving faster, as though of their own will. He desperately hoped they wouldn’t meet anyone on the way.

[aaronthomasglesenkamp]

I believe that life and religion are a mixture of Hinduism, and Christianity, and as crazy as this may sound- Ancient Aliens.

Hinduism is said to be the oldest known recorded religion to date, and if anyone follows or has watched ancient aliens- the dieties of that religion- are said to be “other worldly beings.” I believe this to be true. And if they are aliens, then it means they are true- which it helps me believe in things that are tangible.

I also believe that they work to, through, and with us through sound. Messages that are always sent and received, through conscious interaction and accepting mindset and with our thoughts if we are open to the messages sent from above/the Universe.

I also believe that Jesus was sent to this planet to be an example to other humans- as we are all reflections of self. One life, one love. So like him I don’t understand why everyone doesn’t try to act or be the same- though that is not for me to challenge rather than work on my own personal thoughts and actions. His love is what to strive for in any afterlife and the only thing you should want. Do right in this one to experience that gift, because it’s almost unfathomabpe beyond compare- and the biggest blessing and gift if anything you’ve ever felt comes close to it on this planet. Any once of that resemblance should be cherished.

In Hinduism they have many dieties, that ultimately create one God collectively. This is the only way I have been able to make sense of spirituality. There are many different things not in a persons control in this life, such as others, chance, luck, prosperity, despair, health- and it never made sense to me how this could be any one entitie’s control. Although, when I researched the individuals separate capabilities, and blessings, they’re able to bestow, as well as put an image to reality- it’s helped me gain a better sense as a saw the collective of them as God, as well as a better sense and more of a will to believe.

Every day I wake up, I don’t see people as profit, problems, issues, angst- I see them as a presentation of God/Jesus right in front of my eyes. Either presenting me a lesson right in front of me for me to learn and grow, or for me to be a teacher to someone who is absent of knowledge or love. Where I may humbly be willing to acknowledge, and give back in a world where both are so grately needed.

I had a vision one night as a stared at the stars. The star had wings as it looked like it was falling to Earth, and I thought to myself, maybe that’s exactly what we look like before we arrive to this planet? Perhaps we are all fallen-angels? But unlike the devil, we are presented with everything before us, and we get to choose on which end of the spectrum of good and evil we get to live. I feel with acknowledgment of both, and how God and the dieties create all- good and evil- in the middle is where Peace lies. Just strive to do what is right. Ultimately for you, but also for others in the same regard- and life will be easier with those two intentions.

We are the angels, everything is a blessing, and everything is a lesson- if you just learn to stay quiet, pay attention, listen, and observe. Look outward, but also observe and reflect within- place blame only when absolutely fair, learn more when we have less to say. Know we always have something to give, with right intentions in mind by which to live.

With acceptance of both side of the spectrum there is only Peace, space, and time that we are all blessed to be given- and some take much for granted. And since you are made in his image by him, he allows you and blesses you with things to ultimately create your heaven and your hell here in this world. Perhaps we’re in Limbo, where are decisions reflect where we go? I say that because I believe there are other realms, but there are also veils, acceptance, and rejection to them as well. And here in Limbo, where every day is judgement-day (or should be more widely considered by people) we are the the creators of our own world. You should fear nothing, but the power you have no control over- or the inevitable (God.) Rather you should just FEEL blessed and grateful- easier said than done- but practice makes perfect. With gratitude more is received, but there’s a difference between saying it and truly feeling it.

As He lives in space and time, so do you. Live by today and make the best with what you’ve got, and what have to offer. They say “make no apologies,” but I choose to be humble and wise and do so where appropriate. As no one is perfect, but He also knows and accepts everyone for that- because He chose that for you to grasp something from it. Though what are we if we do not retain the information? Just LEARN from everything presented. Words are not always needed, and with empathy and consideration and your grasp for knowledge- this world can and will be a better place- starting with you.

The biggest fear that you should only fear, is that you don’t appreciate the love and life He’s bestowed upon you, as Him, in you, for you, for them, for your soul/will, by Him, for the good of all. Do something with it and for the Planet, don’t just throw it all away.

How can you make a change for you or someone for today, for a better tomorrow?

[fanon-anon-blog]

Infirmaries and the New Nurse

Summary: Evan has the habit of going to the nurse’s office when he feels an anxiety attack coming, and today is no different, except for the fact that they have a new nurse at the office and he really hopes that they believe him when he says his stomach hurts and he just needs some privacy and rest.

Words: 1711

Notes: Lmao, idk? I’m pretty amazed I managed to get this completed in the first place, so yeah. Hopefully Evan isn’t too OOC...

"I- uh, ma'am, uh, my- my stomach hurts, can I p-please be excused to the- to the nurse's office?"

Not for the first time, Evan Hansen felt the upcoming signs of an anxiety attack. Not that he was surprised, the moment the teacher had declared they'd be reading their essays out loud to the class (like elementary students- what even!) he immediately felt like he was about to throw up. Memories of the past times he'd been called to the front to speak and the resulting disasters that had happened made him wish the ground could swallow him up then and there.  His tongue was dry, and that was just about all that he could say to his teacher, who was unsurprised. Then again, Evan had already pulled this trick several times in the past, and this was no exception. Well- well, it- it wasn't like he didn't do the essay, he just couldn't read it out loud to the class, the thought of everyone looking at him staring at him judging him they were probably thinking he was an idiot and-

Mrs. Williams nodded and he scrambled to put his things in his bag and make a hasty retreat. He considered it a blessing that the door to the classroom was situated in the back, and immediately left before anyone could ask him anything.

By the time he reached the infirmary, the anxiety attack had eased up and he was left breathing in and out slowly. The familiar white walls and smell of antiseptic greeted him as he walked inside. He looked around- and sighed in relief as he noticed no one was in. The nurse must have been absent for the day, he concluded, as he laid on one of the beds and closed the curtains. He could still feel himself slightly disassociated with his surroundings, as if he was a bystander simply watching the world through this body's eyes. He concentrated on breathing and feeling.

"Hey, is someone there?"

He could suddenly feel his senses slam back into him, this time heightening them even further. The curtains parted and someone poked their head in, eyes widening when they saw him. For him, though, all he could feel was as if he was choking on in thin air, feeling the need to breathe even more but somehow failing to get enough air no matter how he tried and he felt like he was drowning nononono he hated this he hated everything someone was watching him he must look really pathetic-

"Oh god, I'm so sorry- take a deep breath - come on, breathe with me," they immediately told him, their face blurry in his vision, but full of concern. He tried to do as they say, pushing through the panic and the tears in his eyes, but it was hard to do when all he felt like was throwing up and dying- still he did as they say and tried to sync his breathing with them.

Time passed, how much he didn't know, but eventually the worst of the attack was over. He actually felt stable enough to be able to see them up close.

"Good, you're doing good, you'll be okay, now, inhale, hold, exhale," they instructed and he followed. Soon enough, it was over and he felt himself redden when the situation sinks in.

"Sorry- uhm, I didn't- you had to help me- just, uhm, I'm really sorry," he stammered, feeling his face flush dark red.

"It- It's okay," they smiled awkwardly, before their smile turned genuine. "Really. I'm glad I helped make you feel better! And- uhm, I'm the school nurse, so hey, it's what I do."

"Y-You're the new nurse?" He asked, a little confused as he examined their face. They didn't look old- they looked like they were around his age, even with the makeup applied. The uniform hung off of them, a bit loose and the ends of it being longer than he thought they would. If anything, they looked like they were playing dress up, though he had to say they were giving off a close impression. It took a closer, longer look to see the little, off things.

He snapped back to attention when they looked embarassed and guilty, their hands gripping the ends of their shirt tightly.

"Well... I mean, not really. See, I'm kind of- well, I'm covering for my sister. She's the new nurse here- but she got drunk last night celebrating her new job with her friends. She really didn't want to have an absent on their first day of work, so, uhm, she asked me to fill in for her," they admitted, sending him a pleading look with their eyes. "Please, please, please don't tell anyone-you're the only one who's come in yet, please..."

"No, uhm, don't worry, I won't tell anyone," he reassured them, plasterng on what he hoped was a convincing smile on his face. "Besides, you did help with just now, so you're doing a good job."

Immediately, he wanted to smack himself on the face at the accidental pun. Thankfully enough, they calmed down anwyay, chuckling. Their grip on their clothes loosened and the two found themselves in a small silence.

"So. Uhm, the name's [Y/N], [Y/N] [L/N]. What's your name- can I sit on the bed?" They asked him, offering a hand. He nodded before shaking their hand, saying, "I'm- I'm Evan Hansen. Nice to meet you."

They smiled at him then and he felt himself flush dark red again, but for a different reason this time.

"So... sudden question, but what you do like? If you're going to stay here for a while, then we might as well talk and all, since we've got time," they shyly suggested. "Not that I'm saying you can't or shouldn't!" They hastily said when he opened his mouth. "It's just- it's kinda boring and lonely in here without anyone or anything to do. I don't actually know anything about this nursing thing... my sister guessed no one would come in since it was the first week and all."

"Well... I like trees and plants," he slowly said, unsure if that was an okay answer. To his ever growing relief they seemed to like them too.

"Really? What are your favorites? Do you have a garden or any place you like with lots of them?"

"Well- uh, the oak trees are my favorite, I- I mean, they're really tall and sturdy so you can climb up on them and you get the best views! Did you know, they can grow up to 70 feet? Most oaks live over 200 years too! The oldest oak ever is more than 1,000 years old- they're called the Bowthorpe Oak, and even though it only have few leaves compared to other trees it still manages to continue on and live..." He started to ramble about all and everything he could remember about them, a smile finally on his face too. They only tilted their head and continued to listen to them, a smile visible on them too, and Evan felt like he was the happiest he'd ever been in a long time.

That was how their afternoon passed, and it was only the school bell ringing that finally reminded them the time. [Y/N] looked surprised as well, before frowning softly. Evan fiddled with the hem of his shirt, suddenly feeling nervous again.

"Hey Evan, is it okay we continue this next time? My sister's kind of picking me up soon, so I can't stay long, but, uhm, we could text each other," they ask him, smiling hopefully and Evan just about explodes.

"You mean, you want to- I mean, with me- uh," the stammers from before popped back up again, and so did the wish that the earth would swallow him up whole. Their smile became bigger at him instead, and Evan flushed darker. "Of course I do! You're a pretty awesome person, you know? And you know... you'd be more awesome as a friend?" They ended the sentence as a question, and wow, they Evan was suddenly struck with the thought that did this mean they were friends!?

He found he really liked that. Friends. With them.

"... I mean, I don't go to school here, since, you know, if I did, I would have been caught immediately since the principal would know me by association with my sister, but he didn't, because I'm not really from here, but I like talking with you, and, uhm... yeah," they finish awkwardly. "Is it- is it okay?" They ask again, timid but hopeful.

"Of course!" He almost shouted, and he couldn't for the life of him stop smiling right now, but oh god, they wanted to be his friend! He handed over his cellphone, andhey hummed as they put in their contact number, before giving it back. They then gave him their cellphone and he put in his contact number, typing the name 'Evan Hansen', before giving it back to them too. "You can text me anytime," he eagerly told them.

They grinned as they pocketed their cellphone away. "I will! You better prepare to get messages from me a lot," they softly laugh, before their phone began to ring. They glanced down at the caller, before apologetically smiling at him. "Sorry Evan, my sister's here already. Text you later?"

"Y-Yeah. Text you later," he repeats, smiling, waving back at them.

"Bye Evan!"

It was only moments after that he remembered to start heading home too, his steps noticeable lighter and his smile present and wide.

---

After texting all night:

[Y/N] [L/N]: you know you're listed in my contacts as Evan Handsome, right?

Evan Handsome: Wait what?

[Y/N] [L/N]: must have been the autocorrect... but it does suit you!

[Y/N] [L/N]: my new friend Evan Handsome... kind of a mouthful, but I like it. thanks for keeping me company all afternoon~

Evan Handsome: I should be the one saying that, really! And... thanks for helping me earlier too.

[Y/N] [L/N]: i still wanna keep on talking to you, but it's pretty late, and we both need sleep, so i'm gonna hit the sack. talk to you tomorrow?

Evan Handsome: Okay. Goodnight [Y/N]!

[Y/N] [L/N]: goodnight evan handsome!~

Evan Handsome: [Y/N]!!!

[toomanyfeelings5]

the rotten job, part 2

part 1 is here if you want to read about a gay shakespeare leverage AU from someone who’s never seen leverage!

all of the bits are titled after songs from the mountain goats’ album beat the champ, so at the very least, there’ll be some jams to listen to. 

~what’s in store for these shakespearean criminal vigilantes of justice? read to find out!~

3. “choked out” 

they’re at one of their check-in meetings, and kate thinks about how she’s had worse bosses, honestly. 

there had been mr. worthington from her first job, when she was a secretary for the summer-- worthington hadn’t been awful, really, she got to listen to music on her lunch break, and sandra from accounting told the best jokes. 

except kate had been sixteen, and worthington was an old golfing buddy of her father’s, and sometimes, when they were getting coffee at the same time, and no one else was in the room, he would look at her funny, the kind of look that made her shrink, the kind of look that made her laugh a bit too high. she had quit right before school started up again, when his fingers had skimmed over her thigh during a lunch break. the asshole had smiled the whole time. 

“oh it’s fine that you left, katie,” her father had told her. “greg’ll write you a great letter of recommendation, he loved having you, and then we’ll find you some other place to work for next summer. anything to curb that temper of yours, right?”

“right,” kate had said back, and bianca had almost snorted into her orange juice: sure enough, kate was set for detention the first week of school.

there was also mrs. o’conner, back when kate had worked that pizza delivery stint in college, before she’d flunked out. 

“speak english, please,” that bitch had told her, smiling like she thought she was being polite, and kate had snapped back, “i’m talking to a customer,” because apparently she was the only one who knew even a little korean in this shitty joint. mrs. o’conner had stopped smiling.

kate’s never liked comedies. not the popular ones, at least. the funny thing is that when she was a kid, back in like, elementary school, she’d been the class clown, throwing paper airplanes around and interrupting the teacher with fart noises every chance she got. 

later, she learned that it’s harder to get people to laugh at your jokes when for so long, people like you have been the punchline. much easier to get a good right hook in, before anyone could open their damn mouth. 

at least the army taught people to shut the fuck up properly. granted, there were dirty jokes abound, but those were the best.

her commanding officers hadn’t been all that great. it was kind of their job to be assholes, so she can’t ever hate them, not really. and some of them had been fine, fun even, but most, well. kate’s never been a rule-follower. 

then, of course, there had been petruchio at the VA, who never gave her good hours and always squinted at her, like he just couldn’t fucking believe that she had served, that she had lost her damn leg, that she was a veteran too. 

her father had known his father, and pete couldn’t be too bad, could he, c’mon, katie, you have so much in common, c’mon, katie, what else are you going to do with your life--

the point is, kate’s new boss is probably the best she’s ever had. which isn’t saying much, but still. 

the thing is, the boss is...intense. all the time. does she ever sleep? kate never sees her without at least five cups of coffee on hand at all times. 

“i want you all to know,” the boss says, and she’s even shorter than kate, but jesus christ, she has the presence her C.O.s could only dream of, “that this job’s personal. we are going to annihilate every last one of these bastards, because it’s the right thing to do, and because once upon a time, they almost got me killed.” she pauses, and her voice is low and dangerous. in kate’s experience, it’s the quiet ones you need to watch out for. “they won’t see it coming. they won’t even have the chance to blink.”

“understood,” portia says, nodding politely: she always opts for blandness in the face of the boss’s dark stare and curled fists. 

kate does a mock-salute, winks. “yes ma’m.” best not to ask questions when revenge is involved. 

the boss stares before a tiny smile twitches across her face. 

kate breathes a sigh of relief: good to know the woman is actually a goddamn human being, and not a fucking alien squirming around in a skin suit. or worse, a zombie. kate’s never liked horror movies either. 

“alright,” horatio says, pushing her tortoiseshell glasses up her nose in her usual grim determination. she pulls her dreadlocks back into a ponytail. “alright, team, let’s get to work.”

portia leaves to visit the only lawyer friend she hasn’t thrown in prison, and kate’s about to head off to find out more about elsinore enterprises when she glances back to see horatio place a hand on the boss’s shoulder. 

the boss doesn’t even flinch or snap or anything, just breathes. she slumps minutely in her chair. 

the moment feels much more private than it should.

kate nearly sprints out the door. what the fuck is that all about? 

4. “hair match”

“god--god, what--where is she, i can’t hear her in the earpiece--?”

“she’s gone.”

minola looks at portia, eyes wild, horror plain on her face. jesus, couldn’t she keep it together for one second? 

“what?” minola asks again, voice ragged, specks of blood on her suit jacket from an earlier fight with security. “you can’t--she was right there, we had the files, we’d hacked in, we were all set to expose--”

“be quiet! i have to drive.”

“but--”

“i have to get us out of here. i have to.”

minola leans back in the passenger seat, tapping her prosthetic leg absently, winded and bruised and lost. 

for a few blessed moments, portia gets to focus on everything but the mission. the van radio plays some slow, whispery song, and she catches a glimpse of herself in the rearview mirror: not a hair out of place, size large dress sequined and perfectly fitted. even her winged eyeliner looks good. 

everything had been going so smoothly, they were all putty in her hands, and then--and then--

she takes a deep breath. “we need to tell the boss what happened.”

minola winces. “fuck. fuck, she’s really--?”

“i knew bringing the techie along would be a liability. when was the last time she was out in the field? i knew this was going to happen, i knew--”

“i’m calling the boss.”

portia nearly slams on the brakes. “you’re what? now?” 

minola’s already punching in the number. she hastily puts the cell phone on speaker. the ringing starts. “don’t have a choice, do we?”

“alright, ok, just--”

“i know, i know, be cool--”

“did you complete the mission?”

portia takes a deep breath. she is immaculately dressed. she is mary piperton today, and she is invincible.  “the mission is nearly completed.” 

“nearly?”

minola says, “we have everything we need, but they know they’ve been compromised. we aren’t being pursued. not yet, at least.”

“why?”

“because,” portia answers quietly, soothingly, to prepare. “because they think they know who’s behind the whole thing.”

the barest trace of a chuckle comes through the phone’s speakers. “really? who did you frame? gertrude? marcellus? laertes?”

“no,” minola swallows. “no, it’s not that--we didn’t frame anybody.”

a pause. “what?”

“well,” minola starts, tapping her leg like her life depends on it, “well, what happened was--”

“get to the point. now.”

portia turns onto the street of the motel they’d booked. 

minola’s voice cracks. “i--we--”

portia steels herself and says, as gently as she can, “they found out about the cyber-security breach at the last second. we had to get out before they could catch on. there were still some files left that we didn’t need to download, but she wanted to. she insisted on staying behind.” portia takes a breath, finds a parking spot, squeezes her eyes shut, opens them. “they took horatio.” 

no one breathes. 

dead silence. for ten unbearable seconds.

then: “i’ll send you the new mission parameters tomorrow morning, 6am sharp.”

portia doesn’t get the chance to say, “affirmative,” because the line goes dead. 

more silence. 

the motel looks especially shitty. the welcome sign is missing the l. 

minola makes a fist. her voice is usually loud and abrasive. now it sounds like it’s being dragged out of her. “why didn’t we go back?”

portia stares at her hands. “i couldn’t risk it.”

“don’t bullshit me. we could’ve stopped it--” minola grits her teeth. she cries when she’s really angry, wipes her eyes with the back of her hand. “we could’ve saved her.”

“no. she made her choice. we did what we had to do.”

minola glares at her shoes. “but what if--?”

“stop. look, what was i supposed to do, get us all compromised in a last-minute rescue attempt? she wanted to stay. i couldn’t lose--i had to.” portia swallows. she feels cold and empty, like she had on that day in court. shylock had not looked at her. he had gazed at the ceiling for a long, long moment. his shoulders shook. he had left staring straight ahead. 

he has a new business somewhere out in cali. portia wonders, sometimes, if he feels good about leaving his old life behind.

here, in this nondescript van with a broken air conditioner, portia feels that day’s weight settle in her chest again.

she had promised herself that she was going to be a new person.

she laughs silently. who was she kidding.

minola drags a hand through her short hair. she does not look at her. “let’s go. i’m starving.”

“wait--”

“i have to get my leg fixed up, gotta fucking shower--”

“kate.” portia takes her hand. “kate, i’m sorry.”

minola smiles right at her, eyes crinkled. “portia, i know. it’s just a shitshow, that’s all.”

portia does her best to smile back. neither of them let go. 

[bleedingcoffee42]

Absent- Part 5

tracking tag

Where is this going?  Who knows!

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The novelty of having dinner with Roy in public was certainly not lost on her.  Not one bit.   Even if he was oddly jovial and they didn't talk about work at all.   She had enjoyed walking down the hallways of East HQ seeing the jealousy and surprise as he talked about restaurants and onlookers wondered who this lucky woman was that got the Colonel to go on a date.  He had the most delightful smile as he repeated her name when she finally told him then he almost killed them both as he drove across two lanes of traffic on his way to the 'perfect bistro'.

Once the car was parked, poorly and possibly illegally, they settled down to eat in an outdoor cafe so Hayate could eat with them.   Her dog already had two dinner rolls and was firmly planted at Roy's feet.  He was chipper, talking about how he gave Hughes the Shiba Inu Fuery found, but wanted a dog all his life, but knew it wasn't fair for the dog.   Roy showed her pictures of his fluffy nephew being hugged by a happy girl in pig-tails.    Elicia loved the dog and he spent his time at tea parties wearing ridiculous hat and the rest of the time passed out on the Hughe's couch.  Hayate was happy and fat, poorly trained and in charge of the Hughes household.  He was also named 'Blackie'.    

“Riza?”

“Roy?”  She replied.  Oh, how sweet it was to say it in public without fear.  So this was what it felt like to not have to hide everything in fear of fraternization laws. He smiled at her, my god he was just adorable.  This was what it felt like to be normal.  She loved candlelit dinner in secret, but she always knew Roy wanted to show the world what she meant to him.   He wanted people to pass by, like they were doing now, and notice two people completely lost in each other's presence and enjoying every second.   It was nice.  Even if they had just met and he was simply trying to impress her with his humanitarian effort to completely spoil her dog.

“Are you a fan of quiche?  They have amazing quiche here.”

Oh god, that damned quiche.  Clearly that didn't change.  “I have never been a fan.  I made it a lot growing up.   We always had excess eggs and vegetables so it was a cheap meal for us.”

“Where did you grow up?”  Roy asked curiously.

“Frenau.”  She said and he lit up with recognition of it.  Well, no avoiding it now.  There was only one reason he would know of that town.  “Oh, you've actually heard of it?”

“I..yeah.”  He said and wondered if this was coincidence.  That, he believed, was highly improbable. “I went to meet an alchemist there when I was trying to find someone to apprentice with.   A Berthold Hawkeye.  Did you know him?”

“He was my father.”  She said and he looked surprised.  

“I...had no idea he had a daughter.” Roy said.  

Riza was expecting him to call her an impostor, not that.   How did he not know?  She had been the one to answer the door that day.   “Did he interview you?”

“No, he demanded I show him something on the doorstep, right then and there and I guess fixing the handrail wasn't good enough.   He told me to find a carpenter to teach me if that's what I wanted to do and slammed the door in my face.”  Roy sat back and marveled at the fact that this beautiful woman was related to that man.    

That was not how it happened. She answered the door and Roy was there with his foster mother.   Her father was in the study, as always.   She invited them in and offered them some tea while she talked to her father, or talked him into coming out to meet with Roy.  They needed the money and Roy seemed like he was nice enough to pass her father's initial inspection. When he came out, Roy had already repaired all the chips in the cups with alchemy without spilling a drop of tea.   Usually her father was so critical of motivations of students that they saw 90% of them to the door but that young man had restored his wife's tea set and he was inpressed with the work.  Even if he never said anything.   He never dared touch it for fear of ruining something her mother loved, he would have seen his own flaws in the cups if he did it.  Roy's work was flawless and some surge of sentimentality surfaced and her father let them stay long enough to hear Chris Mustang's sales pitch. However, if he opened the door first nobody would have been able to talk him into at least giving Roy a chance to impress him.   Roy  was probably about ready to start asking her questions so she changed the subject.  “You apprenticed with that young man's father instead?”

“Ed?  Yes.”  Roy was trying to get his head around this but could easily divert the conversation back later on.   “My foster mother was so pissed off by your father that we went home.  Turns out one of the girls that worked for her had to bring a brother to Risenbool for some automail after an accident.   She said the neighbor was an alchemist and he was nice and had a family.  So a call to Rockbell automail and she gets a name and address and we go out the next weekend to try and impress this guy. Hohenheim was a lot more humble and his kids were challenging me to show what I could do while his wife talked him into teaching me. Somehow our Moms convinced him to teach me.   I stayed with them and found an interest in bio-electricity thanks to the automail business next door.  Pretty fascinating.  To me I guess.  I had my heart set on flame alchemy but...your father was clearly not interested in taking on an apprentice.   So...is that who you learned alchemy from?”

She tried to imagine him sitting on the floor with Ed and Al and practicing alchemy.  Ed would have been competitive, Al probably...he saw Al in his real body.    “Yes.  He was hardly a encouraging teacher.  My father expected perfection and I saw many people loose their passion for alchemy under his eye.   It's what he wanted, he didn't feel there was room for fun in alchemy.  He expected it to be treated like a science and studied it like it was a religion.  It was a way of life not a hobby.”

“Hohenheim was the opposite.  The funny thing is he really didn't want to teach anyone and he wasn't aware of how much his sons had taught themselves.   They were afraid to show him because they thought he'd tell them to stop.  When I came, they forgot all that....well Ed did because he thought I was trying to take his place or something.   That little shit...is terrible at keeping secrets.”  Roy smiled.  “I spent a summer with them and then went to academy.   After that Hoheinheim left, Tricia Elric died and the boys found themselves another teacher to further their knowledge.  I wish they would have called me.”

“So how did you meet up with them again?” She asked.  Roy seemed so happy to tell this story.  He was genuinely proud of the Elrics and not afraid to show it.  Hayate went to his side and begged for a treat, that tone of voice was usually reserved for him.  Roy picked him up and set him on his lap, happy to pet on the dog.

“It wasn't until after the war.   I wished I would have kept in touch but the army took over my life.  I kept working on my research and applying and applying and applying for certification.   I finally got certified but there was a war on. I expected to be shipped out.  Never happened so it wasn't until after the war that I stopped back to check in on everyone.  By then, it was too late.  I should have checked in on them sooner.”

She took a chance.   “They tried to bring their Mom back, didn't they?  That's why one is a suit of armor and the other has automail.”

Roy stared at her.  How...

“I can hear it when he puts his hand on your desk.  A thunk against the wood because he doesn't have feeling in it.”  She said.  “The transmutation....well I suppose all of us think about it as an option when we lose someone we love.”

Roy kept petting the dog.  “Yeah, I...helped Ed get certified as a State Alchemist so he could stay close and have research access.   I needed to protect them.   They're both really independent, it was the only way to make the let me help them.   I should have checked in with them.”

“That's not your fault.”  She said.  So far not having her in his life seemed to working in his favor.   He was spared the trauma of flame alchemy and the war.  The boys still ended up working for him.   Her absence was more of blessing than anything.   It was impossible to not see it this way. “Alchemists will always push the edge of what they know is the line they should not cross.  You know that.”

“Horrible creatures, aren't we?” Roy said.   It was the truth.

“On that note, I was hoping you could help me with this coin?”  She said and produced the coin from her pocket and set it on the table.   “It was in my father's collection and I don't know anything about it and I thought you could maybe help me with it?   You can see why I've come to you, you've been very supportive of other alchemists whereas most of us are bitter secretive trolls who never come out of our studies.”

Roy laughed.  That was the truth, the majority of alchemists were paranoid and much more interested in proving their superiority than assisting someone to excel.  He set the dog down and reached for the coin. As soon as he touched it he felt a shock and surge of energy.   He leaned over and examined it instead and read the inscription.  “It's an old idiom that roughly translates to 'other side of the coin'.  The transmutation circle looks like it interferes with brain and neurons firing.  I don't know why it's alchemically charged though, that's....odd.”    

So this could really be a figment of her imagination.  She really could just be living this in her head.   How...did she activate that coin though?  That is what started this all in the warehouse lot, so how did she activate that circle?  She wasn't really an alchemist even if she maybe did know more than she realized or wanted  to admit.   Activating a transmutation circle meant understanding it, alchemy wasn't just magic.  It required understanding and a concentration of energy.    She watched Roy flip the coin over and wondered if she should be concerned about him touching it.  Happy Roy would be sent into her reality where things were definitely not better for him.

“This says the same thing.   The circle is just reversing the effects.”  Roy flipped it over again. “What do you make of this?”

He wasn't testing her.  He was asking as an alchemist.  He was intrigued.  If the coin was advertising an opposing view of the world, that would explain what she was experiencing.   Instead of feeling like she was important in Roy's life, good and bad, she always feared that she might not have been so important.  That maybe he would have been better off without her.   She wanted to believe she protected him and supported him how nobody else could but...in this reality he was doing just fine.   “I think it shows the user an alternative reality where they chose a different path.   The flip side...the unpopular and lesser known side of the vinyl record.   It's there, you don't necessarily listen to it but it's still a part of the whole.   Usually the unwanted version of a song you love.”

Roy looked up at her and smiled.  She really had a very direct and unique way of delivering things.  He liked it.  “Why would someone want this?   I'd imagine activating this would be just as dangerous as taking mind altering drugs. You're vulnerable, more so because you have combined alchemy with modified brain function and you're really dependent on understanding and reversing this to return to normal.”

“Maybe some people really will take any alternative to the life they're living.”  She suggested.  

“It sounds horrible.”  Roy said.   “Things could always be worse.”

“Or not worse.”  She said and looked at him.  Unburdened.  Able to live his life without feeling haunted by his past.  “Imagine thinking you had a place were you belonged and had a purpose only to find out that you were the reason it all went wrong for someone you loved.”

Roy locked eyes with her.   That sounded so intimate, too personal.  “Why is it...energized?   You felt it too didn't you?”

“The metal appears to have some reddish tint to it.” She said and he touched it again.

 “Have you ever heard of the philosopher's stone?  That is the only thing I can thing of that would be able to amplify energy and contain it.  Red Stone. Crimson Elixir.  All something 'red' for a reason.”   Roy said and she reacted to that.  He and the boys had been looking for that damned thing for years.  

“Yes.”  She said.  “It comes at a high price though.”  

“They exist?”

He didn't know.   He never had reason to interact with Dr. Marcoh.  He never saw it in use in Ishval.  “I saw it in use.  Solf Kimblee had one.”

“The Hero of Ishval?”  Roy said. “Had a philosopher's stone?”

She researched the war.   How had that not been reported?  How had Kimblee's contribution been erased? Unless....of course.  The news didn't report everything just what the government wanted it to.   However rumor would spread in the army of a man who had power like that and helped end the war by annihilating the masses.   So she was the Flame Alchemist and Solf Kimblee came out of Ishval a hero.  Or not.   If he wasn't celebrated in the papers it meant he still went down the same path and landed himself in jail, executed or otherwise indisposed.   No two sides to that man, he never took sides.  That news had always been suppressed and the public never knew the extent of his betrayal.   They never knew the truth about anything in that war.   Roy didn't know anything and was oblivious to the truth. Happy yes, but in more danger than ever.

“Riza, how do you know this?”

“I was there.”  She said and Roy just looked at her with a blank face, caught completely off guard.  

[diagrapher]

Differences I know of so far between Exalted editions

So, recently I told Ununnilium about the main differences between Exalted editions that I could think of, and I figured I should list them here too.

General:

So far, 3rd edition has a lot less content than the first two editions since it’s only new. Thus, for example, it only has rules for playing one type of Exalted so far.


Mechanical:

1st edition’s combat system was broken, 2nd edition’s combat system was horribly broken until it got a whole book of erata, 3rd edition’s combat system seems to be OK so far.

Each successive edition has less restrictions on what a PC’s personality can be like- 1st gives a list of "natures” defining how they behave (e.g. you could choose to have your character a “traditionalist” or a “thrillseeker”, but not both”, a fixed number of things characters get to care deeply about and a number of dots to distribute between compassion, conviction, temperance and valor. 2nd gets rid of the "natures”. 3rd gets rid of the four virtues and lets characters care deeply about as many things as you like, but on the other hand requires that characters deeply hate at least one thing.


1st edition has no social influence system beyond it’s general handling-difficult-tasks system. 2nd edition has a horrible social influence system in which everything has an unnecessarily flavorless name and peoples’ deepest commitments reputedly tend to only effect social influence slightly even when they’re relevant. 3rd edition has a pretty good social influence system.

1st edition has no crafting system beyond it’s general handling-difficult-tasks system. 2nd edition has a simple but workable crafting system. 3rd edition has a horribly overcomplicated crafting system with six different abstract resources, three of which have competely flavorless names, and has the potential to create situations where someone is unable to make something they need to for reasons which don’t make much sense.

2nd edition combines martial arts and “brawl” (i.e. self-taught unarmed combat) into a single ability, combines “endurance” (tolerating long periods of cold, thirst etc.) and “resistance” (tolerating injury, poison etc.) into a single ability, and adds “war” (i.e. military command) as an ability. 3rd edition splits brawl and martial arts again but otherwise keeps the same abilities as 2nd edition.


3rd edition fixes a problem previous editions had where raising your essence rating required saving a ridiculously huge amount of XP, which meant a long period refraining for cool shorter-term character advancement options. It also has PCs start the game at Essence 1 rather than Essence 2, which avoids quite a bit of confusion

3rd edition removes the rules for most sorts of non-sorcerous traditional magic like astrology, although some of them still exist in-setting.

3rd edition removes the rules for how having a teacher changes training times, instead just saying the GM should decide how much it improves them.


Something pretty interesting which I forgot to tell Ununnilium; 3rd edition adds a system to encourage non-GM players to join the GM in introducing setting details if they’re details their characters would know.

Setting:

In 1e, Luna would only be a somewhat powerful god if not for her Primordial girlfriend Gaia. In 2e, Luna was created already one of the most powerful gods, while Gaia has mostly left Creation into the depths of the Wyld, only leaving behind a relatively weak avatar to keep her girlfriend Luna company, tend her garden and so forth. In 3e, Gaia left the world entirely after the Primordial War and is implied to have broken up with Luna (who is still one of the most powerful gods) when she did so, possibly because of what was done to her family after the war or possibly for other reasons.

In 1e, the underworld is a dim, barren reflection of Creation in which ghosts have a similar multidude of social structures to the living, among them the twelve kingdoms of the Deathlords. In 2e, it is a dim, barren reflection of Creation which (apart from a few well-defended or low-value areas) has been conquered by the twelve empires of the Deathlords. In 3e, it is a vast expanse of islands separated by rivers. The Deathlords rule parts of it, but its not yet clear how much.

In 2e, the city of Sijan has been a city of tombs and funerals since time immemorial. In 3e, it’s only been so since the Great Contagion, when its people set up a program to retrieve and provide funeral for those victims of the contagion who would otherwise have gone without funerals.

2e’s later expansions had a lot of information about obscure-in-universe lore like the details of life in the first age which is absent in 1e and so far in 3e.

Both:

1e has the Terrestrial, Solar, Lunar Siderial, Abyssal and Alchemical exalted. 2e adds Infernals. 3e is adding Liminals, Exigents and Getimians.

1e lunars are violent brutes. 2e lunars are sneaky, iconoclastic, loyal beings who reshape  societies from the shadows while protecting them from outside threats. We don’t know much about 3e lunars yet but we know that whereas 2e ones controlled some of the “barbarian” societies secretly, 3e ones rule them openly.

The details of the charm trees are different in each edition. 3e charms tend to have weird inelegant mechanical complications like using just about every possible mechanical representation of “you’re slightly better at this thing represented as a dice roll” or dropping in cost from 7m to 6m when you go from Essence 2 to Essence 3. I might go into more detail about charm tree diferences in a later post, but I’d need to look at them in more detail first.

In 3e there are people in Creation- called “Thaumaturges”- with strange minor inborn magical talents such as the ability to light fires which will repel rain or to read tea-leaves accurately.

Sorcery:

In 1e and 2e, to learn sorcery without being a Primordial one must pass through five stations- instruction in sorcery, giving up something important to you, and three other relatively minor stations. Most mortals (God-Blooded, Exalted or most supernatural beings) must additionally gain the ability to perceive and manipulate essence through one of a number of methods, including: a certain type of transformative experience in the Wyld, a blessing from a spirit or Celestial Exalt who knows an appropriate charm, certain ascetic practices, a dangerous occult ritual in a demesne or certain dangerous drugs.

In 3e, the only requirement to learn sorcery- whether for a mortal or an Exalt- is to gain the ability to perceive and manipulate the essence of the world in the appropriate way, which both mortals and exalts can do through a transformative experience in the Wyld, a blessing from a spirit (but Celestial Exalts aren’t mentioned there), a combination of asceticism and alchemical self-modification, or other methods not described in the rules. Further, in 3e, the way in which a sorcerer shapes essence for a spell is determined by how they gained the power to do it- for example, someone granted that power by a fire elemental might need to burn stuff to cast spells.

Martial Arts

In 1e and 2e, martial arts are divided into four types: natural martial arts (which don’t involve charms and can be learned by anyone), Terrestrial supernatural martial arts (which involve learning special martial arts charms and can be learned by anyone who can perceive and manipulate essence, but for which mortal essence-manipulators require especially skilled teachers), Celestial martial arts (which also involve charms and require a style of essence perception and manipulation which is impossible for mortals, which comes naturally to Celestial Exalted, and which Terrestrial Exalted can develop through an onerous ten-year training process, but for which Terrestrial Exalted still need especially skilled teachers) and Siderial martial arts (which tend to be much more obviously-supernatural than other martial arts and which can be learned by Solar-tier and Siderial Exalted who have already mastered a Celestial Martial Art, but for which non-Siderials need especially skilled Siderial teachers).

In 3e, there are only regular and Siderial martial arts, with non-Siderial martial arts being learnable by anyone, but providing charms to Exalted and only Exalted practitioners, with the charms having a less-powerful form usable by any Exalt, a more powerful form usable by any Lunar Exalted and by Terrestrial Exalted who have gone through an arduous training process, and a still more powerful form usable by Solar-tier and Siderial Exalted.


Solar Anima Powers:

3e changes the Solar anima powers

Dawns’ ability to get supernaturally scary, Zeniths’ bonus against the undead and Eclipses’ oath-sanctifying power all get sneakier- Dawns go from “become huge, glowing, and extremely scary” to “just get really scary for reasons people probably couldn’t explain”, Zeniths no longer glow when they use their bonus against undead and Eclipses’ power goes from “if everyone involved agrees to it, you may have glowing writing appear and a deal be enchanted so that those who break it suffer misforture” to “if anyone makes a deal in your presence, you may enchant it so that those who break it suffer misfortune, and if you wish you may also make glowing writing appear to show that you’ve done so.

Dawns now also get general combat bonuses. When zeniths use their anima power to cremate corpses, they now sense some of the intimacies of the dead and may pass those feelings on to the people they were for. Zeniths may also now compel gods to materialize. Twilights may now vanish until sunset over several round of combat to escape attackers, and may now bind familiars as an anima power. Nights just get some minor mechanical tweaks.

Eclipses can now learn spirit and fair folk charms as easily as they can Solar ones given an appropriate teacher, but can no longer learn the charms of non-Solar exalted at all.

[slavicviking]

My Hero chapter 2

[ModernSoulmateAU As Astrid is about to find out herself, nothing goes as planned when Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third is involved.]

<- Previous chapter;      Fanfiction.net version

CHAPTER 2: Misunderstood

The gods hate me.

It's the first thing that crosses Hiccup's mind as he stares at the blonde wingless beauty on the ground. Admittedly, he has imagined how it would be to know who his soulmate is, most people do at least once in their lives. But as opposed to most people, it never had been his priority. It always seemed like something that could happen to someone else; maybe Astrid, or Fishlegs, but not him. The idea of the gods dictating who he should love had always felt somewhat dictatorial and cruel to him. He wasn't sure he even believed in the wings. They're... silly, and almost fake in their own perfection. Now, it seems, he doesn't have much of a choice anymore.

His eyes flicker to the blue and white volleyball that lies on the grass, the one that almost nailed Astrid in the head, before turning slowly back to the girl in question. His shaking hand reaches behind him, and he almost has a heart attack when his fingertips meet the soft feathers that coat his, his, wings.

He expects to wake up any moment now.

"No." The weak sound gains his attention and his focus is immediately on Astrid once more. The girl looks completely shocked – he can't really blame her for that as he isn't coping with it much better – but there is just something about it that makes his heart sink. She looks confused. She looks scared. She looks…

She looks disappointed.

Hiccup swallows slowly, trying to push aside the unwanted thoughts that rush to assault him. Hesitantly, he holds out a hand to help her stand, but she eyes it almost angrily and he backs away again, redirecting his gaze onto the ground. From the corner of his eye he can see her standing up shakily and dusting off her leather skirt. His fingers move a little, dancing around the idea of trying to help her again. He fears she's going to crack any moment. Or rip off his head.

"No." She keeps mumbling under her breath again and again, one of her hands traveling to the end of her braid and gripping it almost desperately, and he is pretty sure that he is not meant to hear what she's saying. She doesn't even seem conscious of the fact that she's saying anything at all. The lost look in her eyes betrays her; he is pretty sure his emotions are on full-display as well. It's a mess; they are a mess. Astrid's words sting him painfully, cutting right through him like a knife. "Not him, not-"

Someone coughs and Hiccup is suddenly flooded with the realization that they are not alone. In fact, a large number of people has gathered around them, curious about what happened. Anger fills his body because what is it to them, anyway? He wants to scream, yell, but no sound leaves him.

Astrid seems to have realized the same thing just a second later because she looks around, her fists clenched tightly by her sides. The released braid whips the side of her face and slides over her shoulder. Some people have the decency to actually look away, but most keep gawking at the unusual scene. Astrid's crystal blue eyes catch the ball on the side and she glares at it as if it were her greatest enemy. It might as well be.

"A-Astrid…" he manages to utter, finding some of his voice again. He immediately regrets it when her gaze snaps to him with this… with this look he can't really understand. She's not happy, it takes no genius to understand that. She backs away one step, two… Astrid looks completely out of place and his heart goes out to her; he wants to embrace her, to make her laugh like she was just a moment ago, he wants… He doesn't know what he wants.

"I-I," her voice wavers as she looks around again. Her hands swats her short, uneven fringe away only for it to fall back into place a second later. "I n-need to go."

And then she does. Just like that.

He stares after her retreating form growing rapidly smaller, his lips parted as if to say something back. An awkward cough and a snicker follow Astrid's "escape," but he barely hears it. His ears are clogged and a feeling of numbness washes over him. Cold air hits his now-bare back, shredded scraps of shirt dangling in the wind by his sides. It’s… it’s embarrassing. Without a word, he turns and starts walking away, awkwardly swaying to the sides, completely unaccustomed to the new weight. He doesn't have any idea where he's going – he just knows he needs to leave.

He hates them.

No, he absolutely despises them.

They weigh him down and make him even clumsier than he already was. Every time he passes by a mirror, there they are, staring at him, reminding him that he has been, in fact, rejected. By Astrid Hofferson nonetheless.

Which makes it hurt all the more.

Astrid has always been present in his life, whether or not she's known it. She has always been the star of the class, and, willingly or not, has always been a person to gain attention. For a long time he thought she was just another stereotypical "popular girl," or at least wanted to believe that. It's much easier to fall out of a stupid crush if the girl turns out to be less perfect than she seemed at first. But thanks to the Hairy Hooligans (bless Gobber for creating it in the first place,) he actually had gotten a chance to know her. To be her friend even, sort of.

Astrid was different than he had expected. She's violent, brash, and untactful; she hates boys clinging to her and she is probably stronger than any other member of their club, Gobber included. She's not perfect, but he found himself falling for her even more, making him act like a love-sick puppy in her presence more often than he cares to admit. (A fact that is regularly pointed out to him by Tuffnut and his own dear cousin Snotlout.) He was so glad that they were kind-of-friends, as it was so much more than he had ever hoped for. Now, though, everything is ruined. And he can't help but feel that it is his fault.

A gnawing feeling in his chest makes him restless. He knows how much Astrid values the wings and he can't help but fear… What if-what if Astrid changes? What if she feels entitled to be with him, just because the wings tell her so? He can't imagine her doing that, but the wings are surely able to mess up anyone's life. He doesn't want Astrid to look at him any differently because of them, or feel forced to fake being obnoxiously in love for the sake of the two abominations sticking out of his back.

Hiccup winces as the wings bang into one of the walls in the kitchen, almost knocking off his late mother's photo. Gripping the countertop, he pursues his lips, breathing in sharply. His eyes catch the reflection of the damned things in the glass-covered kitchen shelves, and he looks away in disgust. He bites his lip, expression hard. He could… he could rip them off. Pretend it never happened. He's sure getting rid of the wings would, in the end, be less painful than having to face Astrid ever again. He snorts. Maybe she will help him tear them off his back if he promises to never mention the whole thing. He groans, cradling his head in his hands.

Gods…

"Auugh!" he yelps, letting out a high-pitched shriek (a very manly one, mind you,) as something soft brushes against his leg. His eyes shoot open and his head jerks down to see a black cat with glowing green eyes staring up at him, judging him silently.

"What?" Hiccup snaps, and Toothless, named so after the teen had discovered the cat was missing most of his back teeth, narrows his eyes. Swiftly, the black feline jumps onto the countertop. Hiccup swears the cat knows exactly what is going on and what the whole wing-thing means. He flinches under the animal's piercing stare, as ridiculous as it sounds. "Don't look at me like that."

Toothless keeps eying his owner knowingly and Hiccup frowns, his eyes meeting the cat's in a short-lived staring contest. A loud ring makes him look away, however. A hand travels to his hair absently and the boy walks reluctantly over to his phone to read the message. He fears it's someone from school, asking about… about what... happened, the day before. He lets out a sigh of relief when it turns out it's just his father, letting him know that he's not arriving back until tomorrow evening. This buys him some precious time. The last thing he needs right now is his overbearing father asking him all the wrong questions and wanting to know everything.

Especially since there is nothing to say.

The clock on his phone reads eight o'clock. He should be at school already but he can't bring himself to go there today. Because school means Astrid and pretending everything is alright when it most definitely is not. Even if she were absent, which is quite possible, he would have to face everyone who had seen the whole thing. He is pretty sure that news like this will be spreading frighteningly quickly, and it would not be long before everyone in school, including the teachers, hears about it. The thought makes his stomach twist in the most uncomfortable way. He is fine with being teased and laughed, at as long as they leave Astrid alone. That's not going to happen, though, and he knows they will not let her live this down. At least not anytime soon.

Hiccup shoves the phone into his pocket and returns to Toothless who was sitting patiently, waiting for the boy to return. Hiccup leans on the countertop and pets the cat gently, letting out a sigh. A quiet purr leaves him a little more relaxed, and his muscles feel less tense. He is aware he will have to face Astrid and the issue of the wings sooner rather than later and he knows that it's going to be far from easy. He starts to wonder whether it's possible that the gods have made a mistake. The idea of Astrid actually returning his feelings seems too preposterous to be true.

"What am I going to do, Toothless?"

A loud "meow" as an answer doesn't help him much. Go figure.

Despite that, Hiccup wakes up with new-found determination the next day. He pulls a crudely-shaped shirt on, one that can fit the wings, formulating the master plan of "how to approach his supposed soulmate without dying or making her run away (again.)" His dad had bought some "wing-shirts," as he likes to call them, some time ago "just in case" and Hiccup had been furious. Now he is glad for his father's preemptive thinking because it's that or going around shirtless. And that would be bad for everyone.

By the time he leaves the house, he is pretty sure his plan might actually work. Toothless eyes him suspiciously the whole morning, not understanding his owner's overly cheery attitude when just a few hours ago he had been moping around. Even Hiccup is surprised with himself, to be honest.

The realization of what he is actually about to do fully hits him five minutes away from school, with the red-brick building already in sight. He comes to an abrupt halt, his feet digging themselves into the muddy ground as he hears his name tittered behind him, followed by a short laugh. A couple saunters pass, gawking at him–or rather what is on his back–the whole time, and he just knows everyone has heard about "the incident" by now. His eyes fall and his heart stops. His reflection stares back at him from a shallow puddle before him, the putrid rainwater showing him also the wings. Avoiding mirrors like the plague for the last two days was a mistake, he realizes that now. Even in the filthy water he can see that they don't look the way they should.

He has seen other people's wings. Ingrid Hofferson, an embodiment of the perfection entitled with the wings, is someone he can admire. Hers are truly breath-taking, and it's exactly that image that makes people want to have them themselves. But then there's Mildew. He scares him. Maybe because the old man is a living and breathing proof that not everyone lives happily ever after. That the wings don't necessarily have to "work." Or maybe because with the recent events, Hiccup sees himself ending up like this, alone and bitter. He doesn't know the story behind Mildew's wings, and a big part of him never wants to find out. Whenever he looks at the old man's dark, dead feathers, a shiver travels down his spine.

Now, as his green eyes study his own reflection, his heart freezes. Hiccup's breathing goes shallow when he sees the feathers, the image of Mildew's quickly flashing before his eyes. He tries desperately to suck in some air. They look worn-out, ready to fall off, even. Almost automatically, his hand reaches to run through the left wing, and he is terrified as a feather comes away in his hand. It isn't painful as far as physical pain goes, but it leaves him feeling empty. A lump forms in his throat. The feather that fell is not pearly-white, not even close. The light middle turns grey-ish by the edges, looking dead, or at least sick. They're rough to the touch, prickling the skin like dry grass or sand paper.

Gripping the single feather in his hand like a talisman of sorts, he stands unmoving. Groups of Berk High students pass him by, glancing at him either in confusion or with a teasing glint in their eyes. Finally, his feet start moving again- but they take a new path. He turns to the side and breaks from the masses moving towards the building in the distance, adding more speed to his pace. Mrs. Roberts, the chemistry teacher, heading towards her first class with coffee in hand spots him but doesn't say a word, only following him with her eyes. He can sense the pity. All the glances and murmurs along the way make him walk faster and by the time he reaches a small building at the back of the school he's almost running.

"Gobber?" Hiccup calls timidly as he opens the doors of the shop, the only place he knows will not be swarmed with students right now. He growls when the wings get stuck in the doorframe. Again. Ripping them off sounds like a better idea with each passing minute.

"I'm 'ere!" the Scott yells from the backroom. "Aren't ya supposed tah be in school?" Gobber walks out of the small room on the back, cleaning his one remaining hand with a rag not much cleaner than the filthy hand he was trying to clean. The man stops in his tracks the second he sees his godson; his winged godson.

"Hiccup…" the mechanic grins. "Congr-"

"Don't." Hiccup shakes his head weakly. As he walks into the light, Gobber is finally able to see the color of those wings and his smile fades. He knows just as well as Hiccup does that they look anything but fine. The boy hugs himself, his gaze solemnly on the ground. "I was wondering… Can I stay here for today?"

"I – uh. I suppose ye can," the older man responds, sounding puzzled. He scratches his bare chin as he looks at the teen, his best friend's son. He has never seen him so… resigned. Defeated. Hiccup was always cheerful, determined – so much like his late mother. Gobber lays a gentle hand on the lad's shoulder, causing him to jump in surprise.

"What 'appened, lad?" Hiccup shakes off Gobber's hand angrily.

"As if you don't know already."

"I 'eard some rumors…." The older man frowns as he studies the teen. "I 'ad no idea it was yue."

"Well, now you know," comes the defeated response. Hiccup plops onto the only chair in the shop, leaning heavily on the old desk to his right. His hand goes to prop his cheek. The wings are sticking awkwardly out, jammed against the back of the chair and causing him to curl in on himself. Gobber starts to gather some papers strewn randomly across the shop and pile them together to the side. It's painfully clear he's trying to find a distraction while he sneaks glances at the younger Berkian; Gobber does not keep things organized… ever. A sudden thought crosses Hiccup's mind and he tries to straighten himself as much as he can with the wings limiting his movements.

"Has… Have you seen Astrid?" His voice comes out more high-pitched than he wants it to, cracking embarrassingly by the end of the sentence. Gobber reacts all too quickly, throwing the papers aside and blowing his cover at the same time.

"I 'aven't seen 'er." The man's eyes flicker to the dull feathers. "Perhaps she'll come today."

He doesn't believe that; Hiccup knows that, and Gobber knows that, too. He limps closer to the boy and pats him on the shoulder.

"Ye need ta' talk with 'er, laddie."

"I know," Hiccup mumbles barely audibly. He swallows slowly, his mind drifting to the blonde girl for the umpteenth time in the last two days. He sinks into his chair. "I know."

Astrid lies in her bed, staring at the ceiling absently.

Recently, she's spent so much time doing just exactly that, that she knows every crack and every stain on it by heart. She can hear her mother stopping by her door for the fifth time today, trying to lure her out of the room with soft words and bribes in the form of her favorite food, and yet again Astrid tunes her out. Her fists grip the quilt tightly.

She is Astrid goddamn Fearless Hofferson.

She is scared shitless.

Every time she closes her eyes, the only thing she sees is Hiccup, poor Hiccup, watching her all confused and scared. And the wings – the wings that she always thought she deserved – are far more beautiful than she ever imagined them to be. But they are on Hiccup's back and not hers. It bothers her, leaving her furious and bitter, at first. She is strong, she is independent – she deserves them. The fact that he had to "save" her from a volleyball of all things leaves more than a bad taste in her mouth. But as hours pass, she starts to realize that it's not for her to decide, and it never was. She recalls Hiccup looking just as miserable as she felt after the wings appeared on his back.

And she left him there, completely alone.

Shame creeps up on her. This isn't the way a Hofferson deals with things – they face problems head first and with steely determination. Yet something broke in her in that moment. Perhaps it was because it came completely out of blue. One second they were walking together, laughing, and the next… She tenses. She and Hiccup are friends, just friends. He is kind and thoughtful and caring and his jokes almost always make her laugh. She admits that his company is nice and welcome. He always manages to brighten her mood, often simply by just being there. But she has never thought of him that way, she insists. She doesn't like him… does she?

Yes.

No.

Maybe.

Astrid presses her face into the pillow again, letting out another frustrated groan. She wants to take back everything she's ever said about the wings – her life has been perfectly fine without them. She knows she will have to face Hiccup and his damned wings soon, and a part of her wants to do this now, right at this exact moment. To just burst out of her house, find him, and… and then what?

They should talk. They have to talk.

The problem is that Astrid isn't one to talk; she's not good with words, and never has been. She can't force the problem to go away with her actions alone this time, and she comes back once again to her starting point with nothing new or more helpful. She wonders if Hiccup is having similar thoughts and whether he feels just as confused and as lost as she. She curses herself because her mind for the umpteenth time drifts over to him. It seems that no matter what she does, or thinks about, it always does at some point.

It's infuriating, Hiccup is infuriating.

Her phone rings, catching her completely off-guard. She doesn't even glance at it – it's probably one of her friends asking her about what happened. She is fully aware the whole school must know at this point. The phone doesn't shut up and keeps repeating the annoying melody over and over again.

She finally reaches for it and numerous messages from various people pop up in her notifications. She mindlessly scrolls through them and her eyes catch the words "Hiccup" and "wings" multiple times. She grips the phone tightly, feeling new wave of anger blossoming in her chest.

When a loud "ding" signals yet another message, Astrid decides it's the last straw.

As she pushes open the heavy front doors of her high school the next day, she finds herself in a completely different world. The silence of her own room is replaced by a chaotic medley, the assault of noise forming an incomprehensible pulp. A part of her instantly regrets leaving her home, but she is fully aware she has to face her problems.

The people around her don't notice her at first but soon enough she is swarmed with other students obnoxiously peppering her with questions regarding her "mysterious absence." (It's so obvious they know exactly what happened, and it makes it all the more enraging.) She's annoyed but it's nothing compared to the anger that floods her body when her eyes catch two kids gluing on another one of those obnoxious prom posters. She doesn't allow her mind to drift into dangerous territory, not letting herself recall her last conversation she had held about the said prom. With clenched fists, she strides their way.

"What are you doing?" The two boys' heads snap towards her, confusion clear on their young faces.

"Putting up the posters?" one of them, a brown-haired junior, responds uncertainly, finishing off the last corner of the poster.

"Don't you think there are enough of them already?" Her tone is harsher and meaner than she expects it to come out and the two boys exchange glances warily.

"But they told us…" The other of the two, clearly a freshman, starts to explain but his cracking voice fades into the background for her as a too-familiar mop of auburn hair appears in the crowd of students in the corridor. Her feet move on their own before she registers it, leaving the two boys standing there even more confused.

"Hiccup," Astrid murmurs quietly, and people gift her with weird looks as she elbows her way towards the tall teen. The wings are seemingly impossible to miss in the masses, and she is, for once, glad for that – at least she knows where he is.

"Hiccup!" His back stiffens and his eyes land on her, growing wide. Her own heart does a weird flip in her chest when he looks at her. Without her consent, her eyes drift to his wings and, suddenly breathless, she notices the gray color, the sick look they have. Words die on her lips, everything that she wanted to say completely forgotten. Hiccup shuts his locker, before taking a few hesitant steps back. Astrid's throat is too dry to speak, so she stands there and stares at the faded color of the feathers idiotically.

And then he's gone.

Before she has a chance to react, he has already left, by some miracle losing himself among the throng of students even despite the wings. The situation seems all too familiar, but different entirely at the same time, and she doesn't know what to do. The image of his wings plagues her mind, leaving her restless.

It's her fault.

Now, she is going to fix it.

Next chapter ->

(All of my writing)

[nightmarehouse]

Admya

|General|

Full name: Admya (Ad-MY-uh) Ren Sebastiani (her true name is Alba Claude Nydia, but she doesn’t even know this)

Nicknames: Addie, Mya, Angel

Age: 19 (Always 19 unless specified otherwise)

Birthday: July 20th, 1996 (cancer)

Gender: Cis Female (she/her)

Sexual orientation:  Pandemisexual

Species: Half Angel, half human; Nephilim. Angels are humanoid beings from another dimension (Adath) that are born with a variety of gifts, most commonly magic. With these gifts can come with a variety of possible deformities or appearance changes as well. All Angels have high body temperatures, golden blood, faster healing and have at least one pair of light colored wings. Occasionally, though, Angels can be born with more than one pair. The most an angel has been born with was recorded to be four pairs (This Angel is called The Monarch, his real name is Bishop, he is the current ruler of Adath and is a part of the royal family.) The more pairs you’re born with, the higher status you are seen to have socially and spiritually (very religious culture. People born into the royal family are usually the only people to be born with more than one pair of wings. If you are a half-angel, though, or a Nephilim, you can be born with not only no wings, but with red blood, normal body temps, slow healing, and no magic. If you are born with wings though, it’s just as bad as having none due to their darker coloring. Full Angels have lightly colored wings in shades of gold, brown, white, cream, etc. All Nephilim born Angels are prosecuted, usually with death.

Religion: Agnostic - a person who believes that nothing is known or can be known of the existence or nature of God or of anything beyond material phenomena; a person who claims neither faith nor disbelief in God.

Race: Italian/Caucasian

Nationality: American

Occupation: Florist

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|Personality|

General personality: Affectionate, loving, caring, impulsive, idealistic, creative, dreamer, altruistic, compassionate, honest, gentle, open-minded, passionate, dedicated, self-conscious, reserved, timid, charitable

Likes: Sunset, cooking, company, books, romantic comedies, children, oversized sweaters, tea, rain, dancing, brownies, staying in, running, chocolate, skittles, strawberry lemonade, Chinese takeout, art, fall, baggy clothes, raspberries, honey, lightning, seafood, Nutella

Dislikes: Her wings, her hair color, crowds, the dark, alcohol, water, cigarettes, dolls, thunder, arguing, summer, waking up late, studying, bugs, mushrooms, dogs, not wearing socks with shoes, not wearing socks, eggs by themselves

Fears: Royalty, her father, isolation, her friends dying/ losing them, insanity, sexual abuse, ghosts/demons, amnesia

Horoscope: Emotional, loving, intuitive, imaginative, shrewd, cautious, protective, sympathetic, moody, touchy, clingy, changeable

Alignment: Neutral Good

MBTI: INFP-T

Talents/Skills: Drawing, Medicine/ Medical practice, giving advice, cooking, comforting others, poetry, hugs, being gentle

Language(s) known: Latin, German, and English

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|Traits|

Skin: Admya has albinism type OCA1a. People with OCA1a have a complete absence of melanin. People with this subtype of albinism have white hair, very pale skin, and light eyes, therefore, Admya has porcelain white skin and burns really easily. Her skin is absent of any natural blemishes or birthmarks or freckles as well, but she does flush fairly easily. Other than any natural blemishes though, Admya does have several scars; a horizontal slash across her stomach just below her navel, a stab wound between the ventricle space of her last two ribs on the left side, a diagonal slash on her back that goes from her right shoulder blade to the bottom of her spine, a stab wound just above her navel and finally, two identical cuts on her forearms, wrist to elbow. She also only has one tattoo on her sternum, an underboob tat (x)

Hair: Also due to her albinism, Admya has snow-white hair. He hair is just long enough to reach her tailbone and she has bangs that have grown long enough to where she doesn’t even really have bangs anymore. Her hair is wavey in texture, nearly straight, but if she were to cut it, it would become moderately curly. She tends to curl it anyways though. She also takes really good care of her hair so it’s not frizzy and is actually very soft. She also keeps it very white and not stained because even if she hates having white hair it’s better to keep it looking nice then having it look dirty. She uses makeup, though, to cover up the white hair on her lashes and eyebrows. (x)(x)

Face: Structure wise Admya is conveniently blessed due to the angel blood in her veins. Admya has wide, round eyes, a straight, button-like nose, fuller lips (they’re frequently chapped, though, due to her nervous habit of biting and picking them until they’re raw) and a roundish face. Her eye color is icy blue almost white due to albinism (x)

Clothing: She loves large baggy sweaters and skinny jeans, ripped or not. She likes to wear an occasional crop top though, no dresses or skirts unless needed. She never wears high heels and will even try to get away with either flat shoes or converse for formal events. She likes vans, converse and flat shoes like that. She doesn’t wear glasses but likes sunglasses a lot. (x)(x)(x)

Physical: Admya is curvy. she has some chub, mostly in her thighs and butt but a bit in her tummy (x) Bra wise she’s a B cup, making her more bottom heavy which qualifies her for the ‘pear-shaped’ body type. Even though she’s soft n squishy, though, she’s got muscle on her, enough so that you can feel it she wants you too. She could also easily lift someone twice her weight no problem because of her angelic blood but she’s average when it comes to speed and stamina. She’s 5'5 (165.1 cm) and about 140lbs (63.503 kg) without her wings. Her wings are inky black with an oil slick sheen that shows when she’s in the light, and they have a span of 10 ft total (x)

Jewelry: she likes to wear chokers and earrings (dangly ones), she only has her earlobes pierced once as of now.

Faceclaim: Sanada ririna (x)

Voiceclaim: Christina Perri (x)

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|Other|

Attack: she never carries a weapon and only attacks out of self-defense but is most definitely not a good fighter at all. No fighting training. She is paranoid about getting jumped, though.

Mystical: No magic abilities.

Family:

Father- Ollial, Angel, unknown age, dead

6’, Dirty blonde, curly hair, deep blue eyes, tanned skin. Up until death, Ollial appeared not a day older than his early thirties. He had a lean build but had been letting it go a bit. he always appeared stoic and cold, cocky at times. He was described as cruel, unforgiving, cold, lying, and manipulative. He favors Admya’s brother because he’s a full angel even if he’s still a “disgrace” and ended up getting killed by a demon who was protecting Admya at the time.

Mother- Delphi, Human, 41, dead

5'6, light brown/ greying, curly hair, light brown eyes, light olive colored skin. Delphi is older looking, she had slight wrinkles in her face from age like crows feet and worry lines but nothing too severe, she often looked tired or exhausted but still bright and happy. She was fairly thin. Some describe her as a secretive, gentle, kind, independent, intelligent woman and as a teacher/mentor to her daughter. She homeschooled Admya as a child and died protecting her.

Half brother- Malachi, Angel, 21, alive

6'5, white curly hair, deep blue eyes, light skinned. Malachi looks fairly young still, maybe in his mid to late teens even though he’s 21 now. His resting expression is emotionless and unreadable yet there’s still a sense of innocence to it as if he were a lost puppy, which he is. Malachi found out about Admya in his early teens and left Adath to go find her on earth but she thinks he may be dead.  

Half brother- Aryo, Nephilim, 19, alive

5'6, brownish-red wavy hair, hazel-brown eyes, tanned skin. Aryo is guarded, distrusting, quiet, he does care a lot about a lot of things but never really shows it, aggressive and protective. Admya only found Aryo a while ago but hasn’t talked to him in a long time. She believes he may be dead

Mind: Admya has anxiety, severe depression, insomnia, night terrors, and minor insanity at times, when this happens she is more of a harm to herself than others.

Romance: Admya, very much so, is a romantic. She wants to fall in love with someone who makes her feel that spark. Her ideal lover is someone who may seem rough around the edges or even just seems a little guarded but truly has a soft spot for her amongst other things. She really enjoys the thought of being able to share moments with someone that people don’t usually see. At the same time though, Admya is also more of one to take the lead when she gets comfortable. Her outgoing personality leads to more risk-taking and plenty of opportunities to try new things including trying new things in the bedroom.

Past: Admya grew up with her mom and her mom’s high school friend Nickoli. Nickoli was like an uncle to Admya, and loved Admya’s mom, Delphi, a little bit more than as just friends, but didn’t ever really make a move to pursue a relationship with her. He would stop by the house more often than not but never lived there or stayed the night, and he always kept a distance, though, he did spend a lot of time helping Delphi with homeschooling and raising Admya by giving supporting finances and care on top of Delphi’s own. Delphi was left to raise Admya on her own after Admya’s father, Ollial, an angel from the dimension of Adath, had abandoned her. They had met while Ollial had been on missions to earth and had been in an on and off relationship for several years before Ollial cut it off by completely, stopping his visits when Delphi had become pregnant. This relationship they’d had, had been purely physical on Ollials end whereas on Delphi’s it was emotional, this disagreement was what caused the split, not the pregnancy. For years, Admya, Nickoli, and Delphi lived in peace in a small country home away from the cities, that is, until Admya was 11 and had received her first letter from her half-brother, Malachi. Malachi had discovered of his father’s affair with the human woman and had taken it upon himself to find the truth, in doing so, he had found Admya instead, learning that not only had his father had an affair with a human woman but had gotten her pregnant and created a bastard Nephilim child, a crime punishable by death. He also learned that his father didn’t know of such pregnancy. Malachi and Admya continued to write to each other in secret for years until Admya was about 15, that was when Ollial had found out about the letters Malachi had been hiding. After learning about the pregnancy and Admya, Ollial went back to earth in secret, attempting to erase any and all evidence of his affair, the pregnancy, and Admya’s existence, wanting to make sure that he would never be caught and tried for his crimes. He ended up killing Delphi, who risked her life for Admya’s before Admya was able to escape without him knowing, but not before Ollial set the house to flames first. She ran away from home, living on the streets until she was able to find a low paying job and a roommate at around 16. she wasn’t found by Nickoli until another year later at 17. He had discovered the burned remains of the house the next morning after Admya had left and had gathered as much of both Admya’s belongings and Delphi’s as he could, whatever wasn’t taken before the fire, to give to her when he found her again. Admya eventually quit her job and moved in with Nickoli once he found her again before finding a new roommate when she turned 18, only to have them move out at 19 and leave her with the apartment before she got a new occupation as a florist as well as an underground medical worker, as well, with the help of Nickoli, of course, he’s the one who taught her everything she knows about medicine having run an alchemy shop for many, many years. She still blames herself for her mother’s death.

[blackchristiannation]

LISTEN: Whyte House Family Devotions #324 (04/10/18): "What Is Most Important?" by Billy Graham

https://soundcloud.com/danielwhyteiii/whyte-house-family-devotions-324-041018-what-is-most-important-by-billy-graham

[caption id="attachment_40916" align="alignleft" width="156"] Daniel Whyte III[/caption] My family and I have had morning devotions, or family altar as some people call it, every day ever since my wife, Meriqua, and I were married 30 years ago. We have prayed and read the Bible together as well as other devotional books as a family, and it is the only reason why this family has stayed together, and the only reason why God has blessed our family and used our family in ministry all of these years. We read Ephesians 5 and 6 every morning as it relates to the role of each member of the family and how that we need to put on the whole armor of God to fight against the devil who is seeking to destroy our family and all Christian families, churches, and Christians. So, now after 30 years of doing this in our home, we are opening this up to others who don't have a family to pray with, who don't have a spouse, or who are single by choice, and to encourage all families who are still intact to go back to the family altar and have devotions together every morning. In these devotions, you may hear me deal with a temptation I'm facing in my life, you may hear me rebuke my wife about not doing what she should be doing, or you may hear me get on one of my children's cases about something they're doing. Don't be shocked; this is real life. SING "DOXOLOGY" Praise God from Whom all blessings flow Praise Him, all creatures here below Praise Him above, ye heavenly hosts Praise Father, Son and Holy Ghost Amen Billy Graham said, “Becoming a Christian takes only a single step; being a Christian means walking with Christ the rest of your life.” ------ PRAY "THE NEW COMMON PRAYER" Almighty and most merciful Father; We have sinned, and strayed from Thy ways like lost sheep. We have followed too much the devices and desires of our own hearts. We have offended against Thy holy laws. We have left undone those things which we ought to have done; And we have done those things which we ought not to have done; And there is no peace and joy in us. But Thou, O Lord, have mercy upon us, miserable offenders. Spare Thou us, O God, who confess our sins, our faults, and our failures. Restore those of us who confess our sins and repent; According to Thy promises declared unto us in Christ Jesus our Lord. And grant, O most merciful Father, for His sake; That we may hereafter live a godly, righteous, and sober life. To the glory of Thy holy Name. In Jesus Christ's Name, Amen. ------ EPHESIANS 6:4 And, ye fathers, provoke not your children to wrath: but bring them up in the nurture and admonition of the Lord. So far, we have discussed how fathers may provoke their children to anger by capriciousness, unreasonableness, favoritism, selfishness, criticism without praise, demanding perfection, extremes of over- and under- discipline, and insensitivity. Steven J. Cole writes in his commentary on this passage, “Fathers may provoke their children to anger by not being available. I recently read a heartbreaking letter to Dear Abby from an eleven-year-old girl whose dad spends all his spare time with his friends, but won't do things with her. Children interpret an absent or unavailable father as rejecting them or not loving them. There is no such thing as quality time with your children, apart from quantity time! And when you spend time with your children, they know whether you're doing it because it's your duty, or whether you enjoy spending time with them because you love them. You only have a short window of time when your kids want to spend time with you. A wise father will capitalize on it by spending a lot of time with his children. By the way, if you're too busy for your kids because you're 'serving the Lord' at church, your kids will not grow up to love the church. You can involve them with you as you serve the Lord, but don't neglect them in order to serve the Lord.” ------- PRAYER ------- DEVOTIONAL PASSAGE: Psalm 124:6-8 6 Blessed be the Lord, who hath not given us as a prey to their teeth. 7 Our soul is escaped as a bird out of the snare of the fowlers: the snare is broken, and we are escaped. 8 Our help is in the name of the Lord, who made heaven and earth. Regarding this passage, Matthew Henry writes: “God is the Author of all our deliverances, and he must have the glory. The enemies lay snares for God's people, to bring them into sin and trouble, and to hold them there. Sometimes they seem to prevail; but in the Lord let us put our trust, and we shall not be put to confusion. The believer will ascribe all the honour of his salvation, to the power, mercy, and truth of God, and look back with wonder and thanksgiving on the way in which the Lord has led him. Let us rejoice that our help for the time to come is in him who made heaven and earth.” --------- PRAYER FOR THE ESTATES 1. Clergy (church) 2. Government 3. People (citizens) 4. The press (media) 5. New media/Online journalists PRAYER FOR CHURCH LEADERSHIP - For all pastors, church leaders, denominational leaders, Bible teachers, missionaries, and ministry workers. GOVERNMENT LEADERS 1 Timothy 2:1-2 says, "I exhort therefore, that, first of all, supplications, prayers, intercessions, and giving of thanks, be made for all men; For kings, and for all that are in authority; that we may lead a quiet and peaceable life in all godliness and honesty." President Donald Trump and his administration Vice President Mike Pence First Lady Melania Trump Second Lady Karen Pence All White House staff including: Director of the Office of Administration Marcia Lee Kelly All leaders of federal agencies including: Small Business Administration Linda McMahon All state governors including: New Mexico Governor Susana Martinez All city mayors including: Belleview, FL, Mayor Christine Dobkowski All members of Congress including: Florida Representative Debbie Wasserman Schultz All law enforcement officials including: Belleview, FL, Police Chief Terry Holland All military leaders including: Defense Secretary James Mattis / General Raymond A. Thomas, Commander of U.S. Special Operations Command Leaders of nations around the world including: Mali’s President Ibrahim Keïta and Prime Minister Boubèye Maïga For the peace of Jerusalem PRAYER FOR THE PEOPLE / CITIZENS PRAYER FOR THE MEDIA PRAYER FOR CURRENT EVENTS AROUND THE WORLD - For the comfort of the families of 27 children who were killed when their school bus plunged into a gorge in India - For the comfort of the families of 110 people killed in fighting in Syria over the past few days, and we pray for thee ultimate resolution of the conflict. - For the comfort of the families and community who are grieving over the deaths of 15 Canadian hockey players who were killed in a bus crash as they were traveling to a game. PRAYER REQUESTS Christopher please bless and provide for him, the orphans, his family, and church members; turn all the people in India from idol worship toward You; have millions to be saved through their seminars, crusades and conventions; help them to spread the Gospel effectively Rose please heal her pastor; please heal her of panic attacks and fear; give her peace of mind Justice please provide money for the artificial leg that he needs THOSE WHO HAVE ACCEPTED CHRIST AS SAVIOR Kerry Caro Japhet THOSE WHO HAVE RECOMMITTED THEIR LIVES TO CHRIST Stephen Makaela Wayne DEVOTIONAL READING: “What Is Most Important?,” by Billy Graham 1 Corinthians 15:13,14,20 says, “For if there is no resurrection of the dead, then Christ must still be dead. And if he is still dead, then all our preaching is useless and your trust in God is empty, worthless, hopeless… The fact is that Christ did actually rise from the dead...” I was invited to have coffee one morning with Konrad Adenauer before he retired as the Chancellor of Germany. When I walked in, I expected to meet a tall, stiff, formal man who might even be embarrassed if I brought up the subject of religion. After the greeting, the Chancellor suddenly turned to me and said, “Mr. Graham, what is the most important thing in the world?” Before I could answer, he had answered his own question. He said, “The resurrection of Jesus Christ. If Jesus Christ is alive, then there is hope for the world. If Jesus Christ is in the grave, then I don’t see the slightest glimmer of hope on the horizon.” Then he amazed me by saying that he believed that the resurrection of Christ was one of the best-attested facts of history. He said, “When I leave office, I intend to spend the rest of my life gathering scientific proof of the resurrection of Jesus Christ.” It was the fact of the resurrection of Christ that called the disciples to go out as burning young revolutionaries to change the world of their day. They preached that Christ is alive. This should be our message every day of the year. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Now, if you do not know Jesus Christ as your Savior, allow me to show you how you can place your faith and trust in Him for Salvation from sin and Hell. First, accept the fact that you are a sinner, and that you have broken God's law. The Bible says in Romans 3:23: "For all have sinned and come short of the glory of God." Second, accept the fact that there is a penalty for sin. The Bible states in Romans 6:23: "For the wages of sin is death…" Third, accept the fact that you are on the road to hell. Jesus Christ said in Matthew 10:28: "And fear not them which kill the body, but are not able to kill the soul: but rather fear him which is able to destroy both soul and body in hell." Now that is bad news, but here's the good news. Jesus Christ said in John 3:16: "For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life." Just believe in your heart that Jesus Christ died for your sins, was buried, and rose from the dead by the power of God for you so that you can live eternally with Him. Pray and ask Him to come into your heart today, and He will. Romans 10:9 & 13 says, "That if thou shalt confess with thy mouth the Lord Jesus, and shalt believe in thine heart that God hath raised him from the dead, thou shalt be saved… For whosoever shall call upon the name of the Lord shall be saved." If you believe that Jesus Christ died on the Cross for your sins, was buried, and rose from the dead, and you want to trust Him for your Salvation today, please pray with me this simple prayer: Holy Father God, I realize that I am a sinner and that I have done some bad things in my life. I am sorry for my sins, and today I choose to turn from my sins. For Jesus Christ sake, please forgive me of my sins. I believe with all of my heart that Jesus Christ died for me, was buried, and rose again. I trust Jesus Christ as my Savior and I choose to follow Him as Lord from this day forward. Lord Jesus, please come into my heart and save my soul and change my life today. Amen. If you just trusted Jesus Christ as your Saviour, and you prayed that prayer and meant it from your heart, I declare to you that based upon the Word of God, you are now saved from Hell and you are on your way to Heaven. Welcome to the family of God! I want to congratulate you on doing the most important thing in life and that is receiving Jesus Christ as your Lord and Saviour. For more information to help you grow in your newfound faith in Christ, go to Gospel Light Society.com and read "What To Do After You Enter Through the Door". Jesus Christ said in John 10:9, "I am the door: by me if any man enter in, he shall be saved, and shall go in and out, and find pasture." Until next time, May the Lord Bless You!

Daniel Whyte III has spoken in meetings across the United States and in over twenty-five foreign countries. He is the author of over forty books including the Essence Magazine, Dallas Morning News, and Amazon.com national bestseller, Letters to Young Black Men. He is also the president of Gospel Light Society International, a worldwide evangelistic ministry that reaches thousands with the Gospel each week, as well as president of Torch Ministries International, a Christian literature ministry. He is heard by thousands each week on his radio broadcasts/podcasts, which include: The Prayer Motivator Devotional, The Prayer Motivator Minute, as well as Gospel Light Minute X, the Gospel Light Minute, the Sunday Evening Evangelistic Message, the Prophet Daniel’s Report, the Second Coming Watch Update and the Soul-Winning Motivator, among others. He holds a Bachelor’s Degree in Theology from Bethany Divinity College, a Bachelor’s degree in Religion from Texas Wesleyan University, a Master’s degree in Religion, a Master of Divinity degree, and a Master of Theology degree from Liberty University's Rawlings School of Divinity (formerly Liberty Baptist Theological Seminary). He is currently a candidate for the Doctor of Ministry degree. He has been married to the former Meriqua Althea Dixon, of Christiana, Jamaica since 1987. God has blessed their union with seven children.