#but i mean. come on. the tower gets struck by lightning and everything

[zipmode]

4 , 25 , 26? (For either or both of romaine or conviction)

4: If your Tav was a companion, where would they be found?

oohhh for conviction I think it'd be funny if you found them in the alchemist's basement in the blighted village... hiding from goblins and such. Too scared to leave w/o help.

FOR ROMAINE......... idk. the beach fits her just fine <3

25: What arcana major best represents your Tav?

I'd probably choose differently if we were talking the whole deck, but as for major arcana? Romaine gets the Chariot.

Conviction gets CURSE OF TOWER CARD 🔥🔥🎆🌩️🌩️⚡👑!!!!!!!!

26: What animal best represents your Tav?

Conviction utilizes a lot of snake motifs, but in reality i think they're closer to some kind of bird or lizard. something twitchy.

Romaine is the proud and noble Mongoose 👍

[arlana-likes-to-write]

Lightning Bug - Chapter 29

Masterlist

Warning: small injury, mention of past abuse and self-doubt, more family fluff.

Word count: 3.8k

It seemed second nature for you to sit back and watch. You weren’t trying to be rude but liked understanding how everyone fit in a group. Then, you could see where you fit into it. Yelena hung on every word Alexei said, no matter how ridiculous. She would tease him and poke fun, but it was a side of Yelena you never saw, and she was surprised that it existed. Deep down, she was a little girl looking for her father’s love; you could relate. Now, with Melina, she was more hesitant to accept the older woman’s affection. You wondered what happened between the two to hurt their relationship. With the blonde here, Natasha was more willing to join in on family time. It felt like she was holding them both at arm’s length away. Similar to how you were when you first arrived at the tower, you were so scared to be hurt by those who promised they cared. You, Yelena, and Natasha weren’t as different as you thought. Kate and Wanda acted as the buffers. If a conversation took a wrong turn or Alexei made a joke that struck a nerve, they would pivot the conversation or touch their girlfriend to soothe the. You needed to figure out where you fit here.

“You are doing it again,” Yelena said, pushing a hot chocolate into your hands. Wanda was making them, and it was Yelena’s job to hand them out. You sipped the sugary drink instead of acknowledging her statement. “Why do you analyze everything like a game of chess?” You looked at her. She wasn’t being mean, just curious. You frowned, whipping your lip with a napkin.

“I don’t know,” your eyebrows scrunched together as you thought. Vision taught you that chess was always about being two to three steps ahead of your opponent. It was better to be ahead than trying to catch up. Every time you picked up a piece, your move was final; there were no do-overs. All the pieces flowed together, and a player couldn’t win without every piece. The pawn was just as important as the Queen or Rook. “I guess I like to see how everyone fits together; then I can find my spot.” Yelena smiled.

“I think you would make a good Avenger.”

“Me?” You questioned. “I don’t think I have what it takes to be an Avenger.” The blonde shrugged, leaning back on the wall. Her eyes were trained on the card game between Natasha, Alexei, and Kate.

“I thought the same thing when Natasha asked if I wanted to join the team. Sometimes, I still wonder if I’m good enough for it,” you watched her expression darken, but she shook it off. “We all have those questioning thoughts. Maybe that makes us good at what we do.” Natasha raised her hands in the air to celebrate her victory. “Come on. You are joining the next game.” You had little choice as you were pulled towards the table as the next game began.

*

“Ready?” Melina asked. You shook out your legs and stretched your arms. You nodded and heard the sound of the machine starting up. The older Black Widow wanted to test your reflexes, so you stood in the center of two machines hooked up to a switch that Melina held. They would shoot clay disks at you. All you had to do was doge them and use your powers to destroy them.

Back at the tower, when you trained with Maria, she helped you fall in love with using your powers again. Now, training with Melina made your stomach twist with anxiety. You wanted to perform well, impress her, and show her what you were capable of. So you pushed down the feeling and felt your powers dance at your fingertips.

The first two were easy; the clay pieces fell to the ground before they got to you. You heard the machines rave-up, and the disk started to come faster. Sweat began to drip down your back as you trained under the Russian sun. It was getting harder to stay on your feet as your legs turned to jello.

You dove to the ground, the disk skimming over your head. With the last bit of energy, you sent a stream of lightning and hit your target. The clay pieces fell to the ground. Rolling onto your back, you let out a heavy sigh. Your heart was beating so fast, you could hear it in your ears. You thought Maria’s training was brutal; you were pretty sure Melina was trying to kill you. “Better,” she said. “We’ll take a small break and go again.” You gave her a weak thumbs up and heard Yelena approach you.

“Get up,” she grunted as she pulled you up into a sitting position. Your body mainly was dead weight. “You need to give your lungs more room to expand and slowly drink this.” She handed you a water bottle.

“I think,” you slowly sipped on the water. “I think your mother’s trying to kill me.” Yelena laughed, looking at Melina, who was speaking with Wanda. They were too far away to hear what they were talking about.

“Putting you through this is her way of showing that she cares,” your mouth dropped in shock. You were mentally preparing for your funeral. “She wants to make sure you can protect yourself. You are her first vnucka.” You smiled.

“When are you and Kate going to add to the family?” The blonde’s cheeks burned bright red. You laughed, and she pushed you on the shoulder. There was no fight in your body, so you fell back to the ground. “Jerk,” you called out. Slowly, you sat up and stood up. You shook your legs out and jumped on your toes. Instead of anxiety filling your stomach, something else replaced it. You felt off. Jumping on your feet again, your ankle rolled, but you caught it before anything happened.

“All set?” Melina asked. You gave her a thumbs-up instead of answering and tossed the water bottle out of your way. The machines began to spin, and you let out a shaky breath.

You should have said no, called it off, and tried again later in the day. But you were stubborn, and you wanted to prove to yourself that you could do it. The first sets went well. You dogged the clay plates and destroyed them before they hit the ground. Until you plant your foot and your ankle gave out. Your body crumbled to the ground.

All of your life, you knew pain—the pain you inflicted on yourself. The bruises and scars your father left on you would stay with you forever. The pain during HYDRA was blinding. So when a pulsing pain erupted in your ankle, you knew something was wrong. Especially when your body crumbled in on itself and you fell to the ground. You faintly heard Yelena call out your name and rush to your side.

“What happened? Are you okay?” You nodded, stretching your legs out in front of you. Your right ankle felt throbbing. Melina joined you, kneeling next to you.

“My ankle gave out,” you admitted. “I don’t think I can continue your little course.” You joked, but Melina frowned.

“Do you want me to look at it?” Her hands went towards your foot, and you jerked your leg away. That was a mistake, and the pain traveled up your leg. You gripped the blades of grass between your fingers to stop yourself from crying out.

“No,” your voice shook. “No, I’m fine. Can you help me get back to my room?” You asked, looking at the blonde. She offered her hand, and you took it. You were pulled to your feet, and Yelena picked you up onto her back. You yelped and put your arms around her neck. “What are you doing?”

“Getting you into the house,” she adjusted her grip underneath your legs and began to walk. “Mama is right; you need to eat more.” You rolled your eyes and got used to the feeling of her carrying you like this. It was nice, and you rested your head on her shoulder.

“This is kind of nice,” you mumbled. “I may need more rides like this.” You moved from her laughter.

“Don’t make a habit of getting hurt,” Surprisingly, the house was empty when Yelena walked in, and she went towards the room you were using. She gently set you down, and you limped over to the bed. You felt her eyes watching you. “I’m going to have to tell Natasha.” You groaned but understood. “Don’t try to move it a lot and we’ll be right back.” You nodded as the blonde left.

You sat against the bed’s headboard and carefully removed your sock and shoe. The swelling was already starting, and a nice bruise was forming. You tried to move the joint but had to cover your mouth to stop the cry from slipping past your lips. This could have been better. Injuries meant punishments. You had to fix this quickly. With shaky hands, your fingers traced the bruise. A small surge passed your fingertips and hit the affected area. You jumped, surprised by the sudden display of power, but the pain wasn’t bad when your leg jerked. It was manageable. Curiously, you touched the bruised skin and concentrated your energy on that area. You only stopped when your ankle was back to the expected size, and the bruise was gone. You rolled your ankle without pain as if the injury had never happened. For one final test, you stood up and jumped up and down. Nothing. You slumped back on your bed. That was new. Your door opened, and Natasha came in looking frantic. “Hi,” you said.

“Hi?” Natasha asked. Yelena said you got hurt, and all I get is a hi.” You shrugged.

“I’m fine,” she gave you a pointed look. “I am. Look!” You circled around until Natasha forced you to stop and sit back down. She put your ankle in her lap.

“Yelena and Melina said you could barely pressure it,” you bite your lip. I know you wouldn’t fake an injury to get out of training, so what happened?” Natasha was safe. She was caring, protective, and loving. She wasn’t like your father or those HYDRA goons who hurt you for being hurt.

“I think I sprained my ankle,” you told her. She looked at you to continue. You sighed. “But I’m fine now because I healed it.” She slowly looked up, blinking a few times at you. You saw her brain trying to make sense of what you said.

“You did what?” You pulled your leg off her lap and began to put your sock and shoe back on.

“I was touching my ankle when I accidentally shocked myself, but it helped the pain, so I kept doing it until the swelling went down,” you tied your shoe and rolled your ankle again. “See! All good!” You expected to see that she was proud or happy on Natasha’s face, but she looked worried. “What’s wrong? This is so cool! I wish I knew how to do this when I was younger; it would have saved me a few extra bruises.” Gently, she took your hand.

“It is very cool,” you said, sensing a but. Why were you sensing a but? “But Melina said you flinched when she tried to help you.” Ah, there it was. “Do you want to talk about that?” You shrugged, flipping her hand over to trace the lines on her palm. “Come on, molniyenosnyy zhuk (lightning bug), I can’t help if I don’t know what’s going through your head.”

“Not much to tell,” you said. “Injuries of any kind were frowned upon at HYDRA, and with my-” you stopped yourself. “With Johnathan. It wasn’t good enough if I couldn’t perform at my best, and I was punished.” Natasha tapped on your knee, and you looked at her.

“Can I give you a hug?” You nodded, and she wrapped her arms around you. Your head rested on her chest. “When I was in the Red Room,” she spoke softly and ran her fingers through your hair. “I dislocated my shoulder during a mission. I completed it, but I wasn’t perfect. I went three days without food, and they doubled my training.” You pulled back to look at her. “No one will ever hurt you because you got hurt. Injuries are common in this line of work,” you nodded and leaned against her.

“I’m sorry the world was so cruel to you,” you felt her lips brush against the top of your head.

“I’m sorry too,” she whispered. “But the world can’t hurt you anymore.”

*

Natasha found Wanda in the living room, drinking tea and reading a book. “Hey, how is she?” She closed the book. “What’s wrong? Does she need to go to the hospital?” Natasha shook her head.

“Can we talk in our room? It’s important.” Wanda placed her book on the table and took her girlfriend’s hand as Natasha led them to the room they used when they visited. It had personal details that Melina had kept up - pictures on the walls and extra clothes in the closet. Natasha sat on the bed. “She said she sprained her ankle, but it was fine when I checked on it. No bruising or swelling,” The witch nodded slowly, waiting for the Black Widow to continue. “She said she healed it. That she used her powers until the swelling went down.” Wanda’s eyes went wide. Natasha thought they were going to fall out of her head.

“That is—” she paused, seemingly at a loss for words. It’s different, but we shouldn’t panic,” she sat down next to the Black Widow. This could be happening because she is getting stronger.” Now Natasha was on her feet.

“You are the one that came to me when her powers changed during training. Her powers are preparing her for something, which could be what Vision warned you about.”

“What did Vision say?” Natasha turned around to see Yelena. The blonde had her arms crossed and her eyebrows raised in question. A part of Natasha wanted to lie to her sister because the more people that knew, the more real it would feel. On the other hand, Yelena could help them. With a sigh, Natasha grabbed her sister’s hand, pulled her into the room, and closed the door. “Can you not do that?” Yelena deadpanned and sat next to Wanda on their bed.

“What we tell you can’t leave this room,” Yelena slowly nodded and looked between the couple.

“Should I be worried? Do we have another Thanos coming?” She smiled. Natasha was grateful for the joke to try breaking the tension but couldn’t bring it in her to laugh. So Wanda began to tell Yelena everything they knew, which was a little. Natasha watched the smile on her sister’s face fall. Once the witch was done, Yelena stood up suddenly. Her hands tangled within her blonde hair. “That glorified toaster oven let her touch the fucking infinity stone,” the redhead snorted at the name-calling towards the android but covered it with a cough from the flare she received from her girlfriend.

“We know it was a bad choice,” Wanda ran her hands through her hair and rested them on her neck. “We can’t change the pass.”

“I can complain about it,” Yelena mumbled.

“What can we do,” Wanda ignored Yelena’s comment and continued, “is figure out how to keep her safe moving forward.” The blonde rested her hand on her chin.

“She’s the safest with us,” she said. “As long as we keep her in the tower or one of us goes with her, nothing can touch her.” That was true, but Natasha hated the idea of limiting your choices over something they had no idea was coming. It wasn’t enjoyable. “Have you thought about telling her the truth?”

“What is there to tell her?” Natasha questioned. “Oh, remember when you touched the mind stone, well, we think something is coming after you, and we think your powers are preparing you for it. But,” the redhead flipped on her back on the bed. “We have no idea if any of this is true. Sounds like a great fucking idea.” She felt a slap on her thigh from her sister.

“Don’t be a dick. I’m trying to help here,” Wanda raised her hands to stop the fight between the sisters.

“Once we get back to the tower, we will find some answers and tell her everything.” The sisters nodded in agreement. Natasha hated this, this feeling of uncertainty that swirled in her stomach. For right now, her daughter was safe.

*

“Good,” Kate said, touching your stomach and lower back. “Remember to engage your core and lower your shoulders.” You nodded. When she removed her hands from your body, you took a steady breath and fired the arrow. It hit the target, not the bullseye you aimed at, but at least you hit something. “That was a great shot! Get ready to do it again.” You shot two more arrows at the target, focusing on grouping them. “Not bad. A few more training sessions, and you’ll be better than me,” you laughed as you walked over to the target to retrieve the arrows. “You know,” Kate pulled out an arrow. “America was pretty jealous when she found out we were coming to see you,” you smiled, pitting your lip. “She was going to come, but Stephen needed her.” You nodded, getting in your stance.

But you couldn’t focus because Kate was looking at you, waiting to see your reaction. “Why are you looking at me like that?” You knotted the arrow and aimed it at the target.

“You and America almost kissed in Macey’s changing room, right?” You completely missed the target at her blunt question but nodded. “But you didn’t. Are you okay with that?” You aimed your second arrow and, this time, hit the target.

“I think I wanted to kiss her, but that scares me,” you said. You aimed the last arrow, but Kate put her hand on your shoulder. You dropped your stance and sat on the ground. Kate sat next to you.

“Why does that scare you?” You moved your hand through the grass instead of answering her. “Come on, bud,” she hit your shoulder against hers. “You can tell me.” You pulled the grass out and let the blades go in the wind.

“America would be my first kiss, first partner, first everything, and that scares me,” you admitted. You shook your head, pulled your knees to your chest, and rested your chin on top of them. “I don’t want to hurt her or get hurt. I don’t know what I’m doing.” Kate sighed, and you looked at her.

“I don’t think any of us know what we are doing when it comes to liking someone,” Yelena said something similar to you about being an Avenger. “We just have to trust ourselves and the person we give our heart to. Sometimes, it works in our favor, and sometimes, it doesn’t.”

“How many times have you gotten your heart broken before finding Yelena?” Kate smiled, laughing with a shake of her head.

“Too many to count, but you learn much about yourself when someone breaks your heart. But between you and me, I don’t think you have to worry about America breaking your heart.” You chuckled and shook your head. Standing up, you picked up the bow and retook your stance. Kate was right. America wouldn’t break your heart. You had very personal experience with dating but you’ve read a lot. The way authors described love and having a crush, you saw it in how America looked at you. However, you were scared of breaking her heart.

*

Melina brushed your hair as you read over your math and science homework. If you had a question or didn’t understand something, you would raise the book to her, and she would help you through it. “You are brilliant.”

“Do you think so?” You questioned. She hummed in agreement.

“I do, and I’m no lair,” she said. Do you know what you want to do when you are older?” The question stumped you. It was something you never thought about, and you could never give yourself hope that you could achieve something.

“I don’t know,” you whispered. “Never thought I’d reach the age to decide on a career.” You felt her hand stutter in your hair.

“Whatever you decide, I know you’ll do great things.”

“I found it!” Alexei proclaimed suddenly with a cassette tape in hand. He pushed it into a radio they heard, and soon, American Pie started to play. The super soldier danced towards Yelena.

“Do not touch me,” she warned. “Or I will chop off your hands.” But that did not deter the man; he pulled her up and danced around the living room. Her hardened expression began to soften, and her laughter danced off the walls. Kate quickly stood up and pulled Wanda to the makeshift dance floor. Your eyes locked onto Natasha’s, and a smirk formed on her face. ‘No,’ you mouthed. That made the Black Widow more determined; she closed the distance and pulled you out of her mother’s lap.

Your instinct was to pull your arm out of Natasha’s hold on you and run, but you allowed her to try to move you to the music. “I forgot I’m raising a moody teenager,” you pouted. Natasha spun you, and somehow, Wanda had her hands on your arms.

“Teenage angst, right, sweetheart.” You recognized that she spoke Sokovian, but you weren’t sure what she called you. You asked her to speak her native language around you more so you could try to learn it. “Isn’t that what they are calling it?” You rolled your eyes.

“I don’t have teenage angst.” It was Wanda’s turn to spin you, and Kate took the witch’s place.

“Then dance with your family!” The archer laughed. You huffed but began to dance. The feeling of embarrassment washed away, and you laughed with everyone. The dancing continued even when American Pie ended, and the next song started. You saw Melina still sitting in the same spot, with a fond smile as she observed the scene. With a smile, you skipped over to her.

“No.” You ignored her, grabbed her hand, and pulled her to her feet, bringing her to the dance floor in a similar fashion to Natasha.

“Come on, babushka (grandma), dance with your family,” Melina glared at you, but when Alexei came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, she melted against him and swayed to the music.

Family. This was your family. Oh, how lucky you were.

-

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[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Deuce, Malleus: My Dream, to Defend

I now read everything Malleus says as extremely ominous and foreboding (knowing the context of book 7) 👨 THEY’RE ALL RED FLAGS 🚩, YOUR HONOR *proceeds to perpetuate the red flags by giving Malleus reasonably optimistic but also ominous-in-the-right-context dialogue*

Also??? Why are Ace and Deuce's faces on their birthday cards so similar 😂 They kinda match, even their Groovies (they kind of look like they're racing each other!)… cute

A Boy in Bloom, and his Flowering Future.

“What makes you glad you can use magic?”

Malleus paused, pondering the question. “What an odd inquiry.”

“For Malleus-senpai, yeah. You use magic for almost everything! It must be hard to just pick one thing about it that makes you go, 'I'm thankful for this!'. But for me…” Deuce tilted his head back, looking up to the structure that loomed over them.

It was the main building of the campus, housing numerous classrooms and offices. Regal and imposing, with several turreted towers and balconies, it was less an academic institution and more like a castle. A castle where dreams and wishes came true. Among them, his--if he worked hard enough.

"I'm happy that I got into Night Raven College," he said earnestly. "I never thought I had the magic potential to make it to a place like this, but here I am... standing at the steps."

Malleus's mouth curled. "What a surprise. Many of the students I've encountered here are the self-assured types. If I may ask... Why is it that you did not believe yourself worthy to stand among us here?"

"Long story short, I was kind of a delinquent back then. I'd use my magic to get up to no good. Y'know, laying the smackdown on anyone that talked shit or looked at me the wrong way."

"... 'Lay the smackdown'? 'Talked shit'? I'm afraid I'm not familiar with such colloquialisms."

"Er, it sounds really wrong hearing those words come from you... Basically, it means 'fighting' and, 'when people say bad things about you'. Got it?"

"I understand. Perhaps I will take care to incorporate such terms into my vocabulary. It may even make me appear more approachable to others."

"AHHHH!!!" Deuce startled, frantically waving his hands to silence his interviewer. "M-Maybe that's not such a good idea!! I think Sebek'd tackle me to the ground and kill me on the spot for teaching you bad words..."

"Fufufu, I jest."

"A-Are you really...?"

"Of course. Please, continue sharing your story." Malleus gestured for him to proceed. "Pray tell, why is it that you became entangled in such affairs?"

"Lots of stuff," Deuce said vaguely. "Mostly because I stood out. Didn't really fit in. It was easier to take out my frustrations on others than to work on myself.

"When my magic came to me, it was helpful to have in fights. It would drive some people off, and they'd leave me alone. They were scared of getting crushed again by a cauldron."

"Scared, you say... Hmm." Malleus looked pensive. "I see. So there are cases where non-mages feel threatened by the existence of mages."

"Huh?!" Deuce stared at him, eyes bulging. "That never occurred to you before, senpai?!"

"Magic comes naturally to me. It is capable of blessings and miracles. I cannot imagine why anyone would fear it."

"Well, I think it's because magic can do good things, but it can also do bad things.”

“Good and bad…” Malleus’s brows crinkled as the considered the thought, a finger to his chin.

Deuce’s stomach dropped at the sight. “Did I speak out of turn?! Y-You don’t have to listen to what I said if you don’t want to, senpai! Forget me, wh-what do I know anyway?!”

“… No, not at all. I was just thinking about your words. It reminds me of something my grandmother told me.”

“Eh, your grandma? Y-You don’t mean the queen of Briar Valley? I… reminded you of her?” Deuce squealed, afraid to speak her name.

“Yes, she.” Malleus’s eyes darkened, resembling a storm right before lightning struck. “Grandmother says that we Draconias were gifted with great powers—and with it, great responsibility to our people and their smiles. It is with this power that we are able to protect our country.

“Is it not similar for magic in general? The wielder is the one who determines whether one’s magic is used for ‘good’ or for ‘bad’ means. In which case… it is up to each of us to use what we have for ‘good’.”

“Draconia-senpai…!!” Deuce clutched a fist to his heart. A smile was at his lips, his eyes shining. “You get me!! I… I want to use my magic for things like that! To defend my friends and my family…!!”

“That is the way.” Malleus smirked, relishing in the newfound fire in his junior’s eyes. “The power to protect those you love is within your own hands. All you must do is shape it, guide it… and make that dream come true, regardless of the obstacles that may cross your path.”

“I’ll do my best!! If there’s one thing I know I’m good at, it’s being stubborn!”

“That kind of persistence is unique to you.” Malleus showed his teeth. “Take pride in that, Spade.”

"You bet I will!!"

"... Incidentally, how do you fare in Defense Magic?"

"Urk!!" The birthday boy visibly deflated--an indication of his answer. "N-Not the best... I studied as much as I could, but still barely passed my last exam. But don't worry about me, Draconia-senpai!!"

Deuce pointed at his temple. "I'll train my brain even more so I can get at least a C next time!!"

A C... so he means to say that he earned a D on his previous exam.

A low laugh rumbled out of Malleus. “How truly tenacious of you, Spade. I wish you the best of luck on that journey.”

He lifted a hand, fingers curling around the milky orb floating in the sky. The wind rustled upon his command, ushering in a cool breeze that chased off the bleating heat of summer.

“The birthday road, and your future, awaits.”

“Yes!! I’m on my way!!” Deuce eagerly mounted his broom. His knees were tucked together tightly, stiffly securing the handle.

“Ah, and Spade. One more thing.”

“Yeah? What’s up?”

“When the times comes,” Malleus said with an easy smile, “you are free to defend yourself against my magic.”

Deuce nearly fell off of his broom at the suggestion. “Whaaat?! There’s no way I’d be able to hold up against your magic…! I’ll be just a pile of ashes by the time you’re done with…”

He caught himself and stopped. A deep breath taken, and then he set his jaw. The peacock green of his eyes had dimmed into a shade more serious.

“… No. I… I just told you that I wanted to be the kind of guy who’s capable of defending the people he loves. That means no running away, even if I’m scared, even if I know I might not win! That’s my promise to myself.”

“Fufu, that’s what I like to hear. I will be expecting you sometime then.”

Deuce gulped. “Got it! I’ll face your challenge and my future… head-on!!”

FwooooOOOSH!!

A steady wind kicked up, starting small and growing into a powerful gale. Deuce yelped as his broom bucked forward, inching above the ground on only a few startled sparkles. He looked back in horror, only to find Malleus chuckling into a hand.

Had that been a magical push?

“Heh, so that’s how it’s gonna be?” A wicked glint had surfaced in Deuce, from the eyes to his grin. “I’ll show you just how I ride…!”

Gripping the handle tightly, he leaned forward, bracing himself for a familiar rush. Height wasn’t his goal, but speed.

The world stilled. His senses sharpened, his thoughts growing louder, more insistent.

Imagine a magical wheel. Think of becoming one with the wind. So fast that you’re not yourself anymore.

He blasted off, a tornado of swirling blue petals left where he had once been. Flitting down lazily, drunken on the moonlight, they were the mark of a speed demon reborn.

The past, far behind him.

[squirrelshine]

The first sign

A dark ginger cat found his way across the damp forest floor. The undergrowth and leaves brushed against his belly as he crawled around.

He went over everything that Brightheart had told him. Bitterness began to rise in his throat. Why would they make him do this? He thought back to how Firestar had agreed to it all. An assessment at his age, but it wasn't to be a warrior. It was to decide if he should be a medicine cat, or a warrior. His fur rose on end, was he really this bad at everything?

So horrible at everything he has to prove he can hunt. But I can't. Quickly fear rose up and made his whole body stop moving. His eyes wide in fear and his fur standing up as if he was struck by lightning. "I can't!" He shouted, his breathing quickened, "I give up I can't!" He shook with fear and anxiety took over his body.

Suddenly another ginger pelt leaped after him, "Alderpaw! Calm down what's wrong?" His mother came to his aid and soothed him with licks to his face. Alderpaw was frozen but closed his eyes. Everyone is so disappointed in me. Squirrelflight wrapped her bushy tail around him and soothed out his fur. "Please tell me what's wrong." She mumbled in a slow and calm voice.

Alderpaw shuddered and shook his head, "I just can't do it, I'm not cut out to be anything." He admitted and allowed his breathing to come back to normal. Suddenly the embarrassment and disappointment quickly took over his body. "I'm not worthy of any of this." He mewed pitifully.

"Hey there is no need for that!" Alderpaw opened his eyes and saw his father standing in front of him. His large tabby frame towered over him and his mother. His amber eyes were sorrowful, "Alderpaw do you really believe that about yourself?" He asked. Alderpaw looked away in shame. Then he felt a massive paw gently caress his paws. He glanced down and saw his father's brown paws on his. "None thinks that of you, expect for yourself. Your our son and you mean the world to the whole clan." Squirrelflight protested, still tightly wrapped around him.

Alderpaw let himself relax with both of his parents at his side. He felt at peace, finally. Then almost as quick as it came it left. Sparkpaw broke out of undergrowth and disrupted the peace. Her bright orange pelt glowed in the sunlight, she was almost exactly the opposite of Alderpaw. With a bright personality and shining eyes. Compared to his own dark tabby pelt he felt bad in comparison. Although he had the same pelt color of his mother, he had stripes like his father. But even they seemed to be no match for Sparkpaw's bright orange stripes.

"Whats wrong!" She cried and bounded over to the three. Her face seemed to show genuine concern but Alderpaw looked away again, sighing. Brambleclaw walked away from Alderpaw and greeted Sparkpaw. Squirrelflight stayed tightly around Alderpaw but purred at the sight of her daughter. Alderpaw also smiled at her in greeting but felt his chest tighten with pain. She is so much more better then me. But he didn't wish to inform her on his worries.

"It's ok now, let's just get back to camp." Brambleclaw assured Sparkpaw with a lick around her ears. Alderpaws heart dropped, "I can't be a warrior can I." He admitted defeat and everyone stopped to look at him. Brambleclaw looked away obviously thinking, and Sparkpaw's mouth opened to protest but she was silent. Squirrelflight was the first to say anything, "You can take after Leafpool, you help people as much as possible being a medicine cat."

At the mention of Leafpool, Brambleclaw snapped his head around. "Don't make yourself upset." He warned. Squirrelflight shook her head, "I'm just telling him, it's not a bad thing Alderpaw." She assured him again. Alderpaw sighed and looked down at his paws. He had to accept to at some point. And if it would make his mother happy then he would do anything. Since the disappearance of her sister, the death of her friend, Ashfur, and the death of Alderpaw's littermates at birth. Squirrelflight seemed to be in a different place sometime, wishing or hoping for something to go right again.

He stood up and looked around at his family. They all were great in their own sense, they all had their own skills. Maybe he could have his with herbs? He shook out his pelt and nodded. Accepting his new life, a small feeling of excitement started in his chest. Squirrelflight came to his side and wrapped her tail around his back. Brambleclaw trotted on the other side of him with Sparkpaw at his side. "No matter what you can do either one! Just like Brightheart." Sparkpaw assured Alderpaw, "Maybe you can be a warrior and a medicine cat."

Alderpaw smiled, "Whatever happens we can still be together." He mewed, mainly to calm himself. No matter what Sparkpaw was his littermate and he loved her. Brambleclaw nudged Alderpaw and they started back towards the camp. Then he felt the sun in his eyes, and he blinked to get it out. The wind whipped around him and his fur felt shorter, more brittle in the wind. He wiped his eyes with a paw and saw a large black she-cat in front of him. Her eyes were bright green and burning into his.

"Jayfeather!" She asked, but her voice seemed so far away. "Jayfeather are you ok?" Alderpaw could hardly understand her. He immediately felt a new mix of emotions towards this she-cat, like how he feels with Sparkpaw. His vision seemed blurred and the new smell of everything hit him all at once. Heather, wheat, and a werid mix of prey. He felt memories that where not his come to him. Flashes of a tabby cat with a white chest, a dark gray cat, the field, and meadows. He shook his head and stared up at the black cat, "Jayfeather?" Her mew was hardly understandable. Who is Jayfeather, who was all the other cats?

Suddenly he felt back in his own body, he saw his parents again on either side of him. And a scared ginger and white she-cat staring down at him. Brightheart was rubbing Alderpaws chest and then noticed he was awake. "He is ok!" She yowled. And immediately Alderpaw felt noses nudge into his cheeks, and he finally realized that he was in the medicine den. "What?" He mumbled and blinked stared around. His head felt heavy and hard to hold up. His eyes drooped as if he was to fall asleep at any moment. But Squirrelflight was above him with wide eyes, "Alderpaw what happened? Are you ok? You just fell and I thought something bad had happened!" She admitted in a wail and Brambleclaw tried to soothe her.

Alderpaw shook his head and started to remember the visions he had. Maybe it was a sign? "I saw a cat! I saw multiple cats!" He shouted and then jumped up. He realized that Firestar, and Sandstorm where in the den as well. But the flashes of the tabby cat with a white chest was brought to his mind again. "I saw a cat, one that had a white chest. She was brown and had tabby stripes. She had green eyes, like yours!" He spewed and stared at Squirrelflight. Then he felt some sort of mix of the feeling he felt when staring at the cat he had saw. It was like how attached he felt with his own mother.

Everyone was dead silent. Brighthearts eye was wide in horror, and Alderpaw seemed to realize that everyone's eyes were wide in horror. He looked around anxiously, "Did I do something wrong?" He asked in a whisper. Squirrelflight shook her head, "No it couldn't have been!" She shouted and looked at her own parents, "How! How could have you have seen her!" She protested. Alderpaw was shocked, "Who." He mumbled with baited breath. "Leafpool! You saw Leafpool!"

[littlerabbittarot]

When Overwhelm Hits — Advice from ‘The Tower’

Sometimes when you think you’re finally on top, you miss the signs of something else building in the background, and it isn’t until it finally hits you that you tumble — hard.

My life has always had ups and downs, like everyone else, but I’d be lying if I said this last year especially has been typical. Drama, fatigue, stress, anxiety, things spiraling out of my control; it gets to be a lot. I thought I finally worked through it, that I finally had a handle on things, only for reality to strike me back down. I didn’t notice the warning signs, I ignored the red flags, and I hand-waved any negativity, thinking I finally truly had my footing.

It can be easy to hope for good news and positivity for so long, that you don’t want to acknowledge the hardships happening alongside it. My desire for change for the better grew to be an obsession. I was tired of struggling, so I’d grasp on to every little bit of happiness and good thing that I could, not actually working through the genuine anxiety, stress, and frustration I was feeling. 

Without me consciously realizing it, my mental health was worse than I had thought. I know I’m not the first to say ‘mindfulness’ has its benefits, but boy would that have come in handy recently. Before I knew it, my tower I built came crashing down. …But to be fair, that tower was built on some shaky foundation.

‘The Tower’ is probably the most infamous card among tarot readers. While those outside of the tarot community may think of ‘The Devil’ or “Death’ as the ‘bad’ or ‘scary’ cards — for the tarot readers, it’s ‘The Tower’ we dread to see, and for understandable reasons! The meaning can be quite simple: crash and burn. Everything you know turned upside down. Life suddenly bursting through your door with all sorts of misfortune. Often one after another after another. No hope or end in sight! Everything you’ve built, gone in an instant!

But this card exists in the deck for a reason, it’s there not just to torture us (though for some, I know it can feel like that!), but to guide us. So what is there for us to learn when we have our ‘Tower’ moments? Can we actually survive the fall? Can we rebuild?

Like in most imagery, ‘The Tower’ is often struck down by another force, often lightning, suggesting outside influences in our life that have brought down our comforts. A medical bill. Water leaks in your home. Even in relationships with family or friends. Unexpected drama or an accident. The only thing we can control is ourselves, and sometimes even that doesn’t feel true.

But there’s more to this card than just the unexpected upheavals that life can bring. I want to take a moment to dive into the specific imagery of each of these different Tower cards, and see what wisdom we can gleam from them. Of course, these are my takes based on the artwork, so don’t take this as gospel, rather, use this as an opportunity to pause and reflect on what YOU see in the cards.

Green Glyphs Tarot: Very in your face about it, this card does not shy away from the shock of being not only brushed off your feet, but shaken out through your window! — as a literal hand grasps your home, has torn it from its foundation, and is ejecting all of its contents. How far is the fall? Where will you land? It remains unseen, as you plummet into the depths of the unknown. Quite a fearful depiction. But as you are in the fall, you can take this time to reflect upon this change. Perhaps you were too complacent, perhaps a shake-up was necessary, perhaps this is a test of your strength, or perhaps this upheaval can open your eyes to the world outside the safety of what you knew? Perhaps, whether you felt ready or not, this is life saying, “It’s time for you to grow.”

RWS Pocket Edition: It certainly lives up to the meaning of “upheaval”, as the people are seemingly thrown (or perhaps even leaping for safety) from the destruction of the tower. It’s a card that screams ‘pay attention’ with the shocking imagery. And not being able to see where the people are falling adds to its unease. One person appears more prepared than the other, looking forward to catch their fall, while the other seems distressed from the events that just transpired. I think it’s a balance of both, that you can find yourself in either position, and both people could also switch positions. The one in red could look back and panic, and the one in blue could look forward and brace for impact. It’s a choice for how you can react, you have the power to take control. 

Celtic Dragon Tarot: This was a frightening card for me for a long time. Similar to the above cards, the artwork here is shocking and scary. The dragons appear very intimidating, powerful, and threatening. While there is a storm, the dragons are taking their own action around the tower. Are they defending it? Or participating in its destruction? There is a pile of rocks at the base, the tower might’ve been destroyed and rebuilt time and time again. I often imagine myself from the perspective of a person there watching this happen. Am I brave enough to approach? Perhaps I could be the one to rebuild the tower and try again? Or find peace with the dragons?

Celestial Tarot: (yes I caved and bought the Five Below deck! I actually quite like it, haha.) The image here at first glance was difficult for me to decipher, but as I thought more on it, I realized this tower is very different from the typical tower — it’s intact. It’s stable, upright, and balanced. The fire, another common symbol with this card, seems to be a part of the tower, not destroying it. I think this card could show that you have the ability to find stability and stand strong, despite what may be going on around you. You don’t have to fear the fire, you can use it, make it a part of you, and grow stronger with it.

That feeling of overwhelm that I’ve been experiencing lately has been screaming to be heard, and it wasn’t until I had no choice but to listen that I finally acknowledged it. Stress, frustration, anxiety, fear — these feelings don’t just go away because you want them to. They have to be seen, heard, and accepted, in order for you to start on a healthier path. You might not always see things coming, there might not always be signs, but it’s the decisions you make once that upheaval happens, how you work through it, and live with it, that really puts yourself to the test, and shows you how strong you can truly be. I know I’m not as strong as I’d like to be, but with each ‘Tower Moment’, I get myself a step closer.

What do you see in these cards? How do you feel about ‘The Tower’?

 — 

Thank you for reading! I hope to continue to blog about tarot, mental health, and similar topics. Feel free to follow, or support me on Ko-Fi.

-LR🐇

[ascendantevolution]

Balancing the Physical and Spiritual in the Human Experience

One of my major goals is to try to stay firmly rooted in the physical while remaining absolutely connected to the spiritual. I want to live on the bridge between 3D (everyday, physical existence) and 5D (among other things, the spiritual realm). More accurately, I want to exist in 5D and "do" 3D. I have no doubt that I am on this Earth to learn things and to do things that are very specific to what Spirit wants and needs done. That requires thoroughly engaging in the 3D, meaning the physical realm - as if I have a choice. Sometimes life comes at me, and there is nothing to do but to respond.

In the Tarot, there is a card called the Tower. This card depicts a tower that is being struck by lightning. The lightning has cleaved the tower so that the top of it is tumbling off and is going to hit the ground. Meanwhile, there are people falling from the tower. Some are feet first, indicating that they chose their fate by taking the leap out of the tower, which is falling around them. The others are falling head first, indicating they were pushed from it by force.

Typically, having a Tower show up in a tarot card reading is not viewed as being favorable because they indicate change, which scares people. For the record, some Tower moments are awesome, like when new love shows up, or a job offer comes out of nowhere. Tower moments in life are going to happen.

That being said, when I have a Tower moment appear in my life, sometimes I get pulled off of my bridge between 3D and 5D, pulled back to find myself firmly planted in the physical, staring into the opening of a maze. New learning is about to happen. I don't know where it's going, but I do have a choice. I can either freeze and stand at the entrance forever, until another Tower moment comes along to kick my ass down my path, or I can willingly walk in.

Once in the maze, surrounded by the walls of green leaves, I have found that it can be easy to lose sight of it all. My life. Spirit. The 5D. Sometimes I feel very alone because, ultimately, it is my journey. I have felt resentful. I want nothing more than to not be in the maze, to know where I'm going, and there is a part of me that wants to go back. If I resist, I get another ass whipping to push me down the path. It took me a long time to figure out that there is no other way but forward. Seems obvious, but resistance to change is one of my greatest flaws as a human.

There is a difference between going forward, and going forward in trust. When I was younger, as I moved forward, I focused on the path and the tunnels I was walking through, so much so that I would lose sight of my purpose in my journey.

Now, older and wiser, I realize that my current path is somehow a part of my purpose, and both mean everything to me now. I must move forward in trust. Faith. Something magical happens when I do move with trust. I get drawn back into the 5D. In other words, my spirit helps me to rise to a higher perspective, being that of the spiritual realm. In doing so, my physical self is left in the maze, doing the "do" while my Spirit works through my Higher Self, which shows me the way.

I understand how hard it is not to get caught up in the feelings of being lost and battered and tired in the 3D realm called Life. Believe me, I have suffered and suffered. I have suffered so much that I am motivated to share my hard-earned learning with whomever will listen, helping others suffer less, hopefully.

No matter how broken your heart, no matter how much shame you feel, remember that all of it has purpose. Remember that you have purpose. Remember that you are loved and shepherded, always. Whatever you do, try not to give in to losing sight of the bigger picture . . . do not lose your connection with Spirit. When we stay anchored to our purpose, and Tower moments aren't nearly as scary.

Originally written in the Spring of 2021.

[soyymoii]

May the leap from the top be swift.

you are every word i wrote - everything comes true. the words you held against me - well, they had weight.

Today I’ll come out of retirement from writing about love. I’ll write about how the void almost took me out but not for long this time. I’ll write about how retirement is a way to pay very close attention, to attune to what is in front of you and not the projection of what you hoped for, and how leaving before it burns down saves you from complete destruction.

In the tower card in the tarot, you see the people jumping from the burning building. They don’t wait to die with the crumbling infrastructure, they take to the air and plummet into the unknown, unwilling to be struck by the flames lapping at their feet as the lighting strikes.

At the end of May 2023, I lost my mind after I stayed too long with love that tried but could never understand. I was prepared to go down with the storm. While I am a believer in everything being on time I also watched my mental health get to a point that was completely endangering my sincerity and continued time on Earth. That is what staying too long looks like and I made an unbreakable vow to myself that I would never stay too long again.

This commitment requires incredible levels of self-knowledge. It requires building a ladder with rungs built to hold my deepest shadows, my endless desires, and my fruitful hopes and dreams. A vow of great importance to never break. So when I started running out of ideas, felt my anxiety grow to new heights, and noticed the ebb of secure attachment fade I knew it was time to come back to myself, alone on the shore, in the car, in the city, in the big open world. Alone in the mountains.

By not writing about the love I had and the love I felt I was never confused about what was real and what was me being the dreamer that I am. Holding onto hopes of change, understanding, and most of all empathy. I never conflated passion with fact or lust with love. This is the result of continued dedication to healing codependency. I let a slow burn burn slowly and for this, I learned that I can stay in my own life and honor another’s. And when the burn started to flicker and the team couldn’t come together to bring the ball to the basket I knew it was time to lace up my shoes and find a new court. One I could practice on all my own. I can’t say that getting the “ick” majorly was a big part of healing too… but that’s another story for another time.

I have always been willing to work at love. To great lengths, I will go to fall deeper and let the vines climb the tower before we jump out. The leaves sweep through the windows and the stories of concrete to form an everlasting connection, and yet to be met with this same fervor is no easy feat. Finding the middle path between love addiction and having a cracked open heart has taken steady focused work. To see the difference has brought me to my knees. And from my knees, I rise knowing exactly what I need and deserve to be lit up inside my spirit. To be set free can be done in partnership or alone, but it must not be stifled by a blocked heart.

You can jump out when the lightning strikes, you don’t have to wait for the thing to go into the ground. The unchosen realm of love doesn’t have to last any longer than you want it to. The effort put in must be met, the effort must be matched, and the effort must be celebrated. There will be seasons, and there will be cracks in the foundation, but the laying of the bricks must be done in unison, with solos taken in collaboration.

After all of it, a house is just some wooden stakes, a ring, and a necklace - they are empty treasures when the meaning is conditional, a shared and beloved pet - really has one owner, and hurt … well, hurt people will truly go to lengths to hurt people. And I watched from afar as you hurt - and tried to hurt me, but in reality, I'm not dysfunctional enough for you. I am together and whole. You will forever be trapped in repeated patterns. And you no longer control me. I am finally free, thank God i am finally fucking free.

May the leap from the top be swift.

[worldly-diversity]

Electricity sparked between their hands, briefly robbing electricity from the room to instead light it up from where their palms connected and moving outward in rapidly flickering lines akin to lightning. It wouldn't hurt either of them, but a small mark would engrave itself into both of their palms, a physical representation of the agreement. It wasn't vibrant or anything, a clear indicator that it wasn't all that binding, but the belief being poured into their agreement could strengthen it, given time.

The lights flickered back on gradually, and Vox offered Angel one of his bright showmanship smiles, rising from his chair and clapping him on the shoulder. Now he was gonna have to explain this to Val and hope he doesn't come back in a million tiny pieces…

"Wonderful! Trust me, you're not gonna regret this!" He is. Pondering his options for a moment, Vox hums and rapid calculations and simulations run behind his eyes, too quick to follow or even really notice, considering he's spun away from Angel in the process.

"Alright, rule number one is you don't tell anyone about our deal unless I give you permission to, and even then only to the degree I allow, understood?" His posture had straightened, hands clasped behind his back and settled into something more business-like and curt. He needed Angel to listen, the obeying part at least had now been taken care of.

"Rule number two is that you don't antagonise Valentino if you can help it. I can't have you pulling me from my work to keep you safe just because you thought it was a good idea to talk back to him." Angel will be discovering in the coming days what exactly Vox meant by preserving their image, and how much it'll be limiting Angel's ability to act out against any of the Vees.

"I'm sure anything else can be ironed out as we go along." Oh boy, he's really not looking forward to telling Val he'd struck a deal with his boy toy. His soul still belongs to Val, he's not dumb enough to get in between that, but it's still a very risky move all things considered.

"Oh, right." He snaps his fingers and a drone appears from one of the closed doors in the lobby, dropping an object into Vox' hand and disappearing once again. The TV demon shifts and offers the object to Angel, a wrist band just like the one he'd given Pentious. "You keep this on at ALL times. Water won't damage it so I mean it. If I can't get in touch with you, you'll regret it."

He waited to make sure Angel had clipped it on before nodding to himself. "Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go ensure Val doesn't just kill the both of us."

He had an idea of how to tackle this, but he was still slightly nervous as he headed up to the tower, taking the manual route rather than transporting himself through the network to allow himself more time to think. And then it was showtime—

"You wouldn't guess who I caught hanging around places he shouldn't be, stoned out of his mind." He opened, an amused lilt to his voice as he tapped the side of his screen, an indicator that he'd caught it on camera rather than in person.

It looks like Velvette's still out, which makes one less person who can call him out on his bullshit. He doesn't like lying to Val, but it's distinctly necessary right now so he pulls close and wraps an arm playfully around the moth's waist as the other replies.

"Anyone we care about?"

He resumes some distance, idly heading over to the screens he'd dedicated to watching over the Hotel just in case anything interesting happened there. "Yeah, your boy toy." He hums with an air of casualty. "He's been pulling on his chains lately, hasn't he? That's quite the bit of disrespect, considering everything you've done for him."

"The fuck you mean Angel's been snooping— Why that little fucking BITCH! When I get my hands on him—"

He hadn't said snooping, but alright. "Calm down Val, you're proving my point." A tricky call to make, considering the likeliness of Val not taking that well, but he's trying to lead the other along a specific path right now and some risks need to be taken.

Indeed barely a split second later, Valentino rounded on him with a snarl, relaxed position growing tense and more antagonistic right away. "The FUCK is that supposed to mean, Voxxy?" Val sneered, the smoke around him growing more dense with his annoyance.

"I'm just saying, Angel was a good worker for you till you started roughing him up, right?" He's quick to defend, hands raising in a placating manner, stance open— He means no harm and is telegraphing that as well as he can. It's not that he's afraid of Val's violent moods or outbursts, but he can't afford to have Val on a hair's trigger right now, nor to have him begin to distrust Vox and his intentions. Damn fiercely independent moths…

"So? That little bitch has it coming." Came the defensive but calmer response, allowing Vox to wander closer again, leaning against the back of one of the couches in their lobby.

"I know, but the harder you push, the more trouble he's gonna cause. Already he's staying with the delusional princess and her band of cohorts. With Alastor. He's in a prime position to undermine everything we've built up, long as he gets sober long enough to realise it." He can't keep his own annoyance out of his voice at the mention of his rival, eye twitching briefly. Alastor wasn't the point— But the radio demon could take advantage of Angel in a moment of weakness the same way he'd just done, and he wouldn't be shy about picking a fight with the Vees if it got him such a handy piece of leverage.

Valentino simply scoffed, though there was a flash of amusement there at Vox' own hangups when it comes to Alastor. Nevertheless, he can accept that Vox has a point. Angel staying at that damn hotel had been pissing him off from day one to say the least— If it caused them trouble of a different kind to boot… "Then we make him stay at the studio— I'm sure I'll find use for him."

"I agree, but his contract's the problem, isn't it? You can't pull his chain outside of work, and he's gonna start taking advantage of that if we don't reign him in." Vox offered, briefly diverting his attention to the cameras in his tower to make sure the arachnid wasn't proving overly eager to test out the limits of their agreement.

When he refocussed, he was met with Valentino much closer than he'd been a moment ago, narrowed eyes visible behind the other's tinted heart-shaped lenses and making Vox feel briefly trapped against the couch. In any other situation that would've been attractive—

"You've put an awful lot of thought into one of my workers there, Voxxy."

"I'm just offering suggestions— That's all. He's your business, but if he starts exposing us from the inside it won't just be you he'll be affecting." Looks like he needs to break it down after all. He holds back a sigh, Val's going to be ripping into his plans for a while by the looks of things. Angel would just have to keep himself busy until Vox could get back to him.

"Fine, spill then. What's your brilliant idea?" 

It took about an hour for Valentino to be satisfied, feathers ruffled but otherwise confident that they would have Angel back under control as soon as Vox managed to execute this plan of his. Better if Val never found out that Vox had acted first and then talked him into agreeing afterwards— Val would likely never forgive him for subverting his authority like that.

It wasn't a written rule, but they weren't meant to interfere in each other's businesses. Yet he'd seen an opportunity and capitalised on it without considering how Valentino would take things. He'd better be real fucking careful that it doesn't happen again from now on.

The screen on Angel's wrist flickers on at last, entirely uncaring of where the spider was or what he might be doing.

"Val's been informed. You're to show up tomorrow for your shoots like usual. You can do whatever you want tonight." Within the constraints of what Vox considered damaging to their image, but Angel would find out about that as soon as he attempted to bad-mouth any of the Vees, or tried to talk about his agreement with Vox for that matter.

He was so fucking messed up.

His head was swimming, his mind a complete mess. Angel can't even properly focus long enough before his head lulls back onto the cool surface of the table. He was in Vox's tower, that much he was aware of.

Because if he ended up in Velvette's room? He would've been already fucked over & sent off back to Valentino. He knew she wouldn't put up with his drugged up shit even if he was sober enough to remember. He was just thankful Vox had the decency to hear him out at least. 

He winces when those clawed fingers reach forward to his jaw, expecting to be hit with a verbal lashing or something. Not ... whatever this was. The fuck was he playing at? He groans at the use of his real name, though oddly enough, he still finds himself leaning into his strangely comforting touch.

"I ain't completely out of it yet. I jus' ... I don't wanna deal wit' him anymore tonight," he mumbles, hopefully loud enough for Vox to hear him. He still has no idea what the overlord is actually planning in that twisted mind of his right now. All he is aware of is that something was up. 

"Huh ? " Lips tug into a small frown the moment he's called out on being afraid of Val. Which, in a way was true, but still, you don't just call someone out on their shit like that!

"I'm not ... " His gaze softens, brows furrowing as confusion overtakes his facial expression. "I ain't afraid." Like he's correcting himself. Even if he was lying right through his teeth about it. 

Still, he tried making himself sound convincing enough to get Vox off his back about it. He nearly almost missed out on what Vox says next, only barely catching the tail end of his first recollection. He shouldn't be surprised, though.

Of course Vox would know what Valentino is like being in a group with the guy. Lips curl into a tighter frown the more he listens on, gaze flickering back down to the table. Away from Vox. He sort of did have someone to protect him ... just when he was at the hotel at least. Two someone's actually, but neither were there with him. 

Angel Dust was alone. Alone at the 'mercy' of an overlord. How fucking ironic. 

Another groan makes its way out of his throat at the mention of being called a toy ——— Valentino's toy to be exact. & Even if it was true, it didn't mean he still enjoyed hearing it being repeated. It just served to make his fur stand on end, causing the spider to shudder. Angel keeps his silence for now, silently wishing the waves of nausea would stop taking him by surprise. A free hand covers his stomach just in case. 

"Help each other ? " He repeats, brows furrowing tightly as he attempts to hear Vox out. Why he was even considering this was beyond comprehension at this point. The thing was, Vox had yet to go to Val about him, that's the thing that mattered most to Angel. He lifts his head, teeth chewing on his bottom lip as he thinks the deal over. This ... could end only up very badly for him once he was sobered up enough. 

But he was desperate enough to try anything. 

"Yeah, I do." he mumbles, lips quirking thoughtfully. He only tenses up slightly when that clawed hand reaches forward again. Gaze lifting to meet his at the overly gentle treatment.

What the actual fuck? Vox was trying to confuse him more, wasn't he? Teeth grit together, biting back a scoff as he pushes away from the touch. Like it was scorching him. 

He can't get wrapped up in this. Two overlords being after him sounded like overkill right from the start. & Yet ... Vox was offering him safety from Valentino. All he had to do was listen to him? 

His gaze shifts from the table, to his hands & back to his outstretched hand. "I ... " Fuck, was he really doing this? Husk was going to be disappointed when/if he ever found out. Swallowing thickly, he closes his eyes & holds his own hand out. Very steadily reaching forward to accept Vox's hand. "Fine. We have a deal." 

[misbehaving-pet]

kirie, but it’s his redemption arc

The white gloved hands that held his face up squeezed his chin, jerking him closer to the man who stood in front of him.

“A very good addition is that…look at this, it’s a natural occurred genetic mutation. No genes purposively altered, no DNA tampering. Makes it even rarer.”

The customer stepped in, taking a closer look at his face. The glistening lights made his eyes stand out.

 He is stunning, but there’s something lacking.

 “Can he still see us?”

“Well, surely. But if you’d like we could always…”

Their words didn’t seem to make sense inside of his head. He could only hazily smile and look thought the window’s glass, seeing all the faces staring at him. The sound, muffled by the laminated glass, reached his ears as a soft murmur. People pointed and whispered to listening ears.

 Look at that one, he’s beautiful! Must cost a fortune!

 So many enthusiastic expressions. So many cheerful exclamations. Smiles of pure awe, and gasps of surprise.

…And at the same time, there were repulsed ones, nonchalant ones; those made his heart sink.

 Why aren’t they satisfied?

Why aren’t they looking my way?

Don’t ignore me!

Don’t turn your back…

 “…but yeah, the highest bid takes him home, I suppose.” The man shrugged, hands crossed in a diplomatic manner. His thin framed glasses covered part of his eyes, making his face hard to distinguish.

“We are planning to star the bidding at 1mil”

“That seems like a lot. From what line exactly is this one, again?”

“He’s a new type, exotic. I’ve been tampering with his mind for a while now. He’s very fascinating.”

The flowing golden hair of that man, the ice-cold tone in which he spoke… somehow that was enough to send his mind flying. He didn’t know why, but that man’s wills were command: disobeying wasn’t an option. Fear struck him like lightning. The simple sound of his voice was enough to make him cold.

 His name is Raoul.

That’s who made me.

That’s who created me.

He named me…

Kirie.

He had no memories of anything prior to that day.

The day he woke up, ordered by Raoul, in the tower.

Somehow, something inside of him refused to accept this reality even though it seemed right.

He was going to be happy, wasn’t he?

He was going to be comfortable and living the life, wasn’t he?

With luxurious clothing and the best of everything he could ever ask for. Like a dream come true! Although it seemed that all of this came with a price.

Yet…

His heart used to be free, didn’t it?

He wasn’t sure when. But he knew it, things weren’t always like this. He wasn’t like the rest of them. Right?

 Pick me!

Spoil me!

Love me!

 The highest bid was extraordinary that day. They never thought a mongrel like him would sell for so much; although it was a secret that he was not lab made like the others. Why would it matter anyway? It was a good plan: they would get rid of nuisance and make money along the way. No one needed to know, no one would ask.

Raoul only scoffed at that paperwork over his table, savoring some wine that night. Perfect.

 After signing all the official procedures, the client would take him home. An owner. A master. They are never good, never merciful. They will throw you away when you are not needed anymore, use repeatedly and never teach the meaning of love and compassion. Because that is what they do. Because mindless dolls don’t need love.

 “He is all yours.” There was no going back now, the collar around his neck was more than enough symbol of his captivity. He kept his head down, and hands together with his fingers tangled, in a sign of submission. Even though he wasn’t expected to be courteous at that time, he wasn’t a fool to raise his eyes. “Come, what did I tell you? Have you forgotten good manners?” The man gave him a little push on his back. “Introduce yourself”

 For some reason that rang a bell inside of his head.

“Say your name, new guy!” a familiar voice echoed inside. “Louder!”

Was that from a dream?

“...hello…” He said, slowly raising his eyes. “My name is Kirie, I’m excited to meet you.”

 “There’s a guide enclosed if you ever need that.”

“Hmmm. I guess that would be useful.”  

Darkness.

All around is darkness.

Endless fucking darkness.

….

[bffhreprise]

Best Friend For Hire Reprise, 382

 “Slow down!” exclaimed Iris.  “Turn left just up ahead.”

 I nodded and complied.  She knew where her boss lived better than any of us, having never visited this suburb befored.  I probably would have missed the break in the endless fence had she not warned me, especially when I was trying to guess the cost of having a large amount of land next to a park in a pricey suburb.  To my surprise, the gate opened for us immediately.

 “He doesn’t care much for security, does he?” I teased, looking around to see if there was some sort of guard who would have opened the gate for us.

 “Mila watches everything, so there’s no need.  There are sensors and cameras all over the yard that let her know if anything is disturbed.” explained Iris matter-of-factly.

 I nodded, but my eyes were locked on our destination in the distance, barely visible through all of the rain.  I had considerably underestimated the size of this place.  I very much doubted that I could even afford to maintain the yard for very many years and could only guess that the property tax had to be immense.

 As my sons grew excited about the bushes, I looked over and stared for several seconds.  Every single bush along the long driveway had been carefully sculpted into characters that I recognized from video games my kids enjoyed.  I could only imagine the amount of time and number of people involved in such artwork, leading me to believe James spent even more on his yard annually than I originally had guessed.  Even the fountain—an immense, two-story affair that was very elaborately sculpted—was immaculate, showing no signs of wear or neglect.  James certainly knew how to make an impression.

 When we stepped inside, passing past two sets of double doors that opened for us, James was descending down one of the staircases which curved up to a balcony on the second floor.  “James!  Thank you for having us.  This is quite a place you’ve got here.  Sorry if we brought the storm.” I told him, gesturing to the weather outside.

 “There’s plenty to see.” he politely agreed.  “Thank you for accepting the invitation.  I thought you might be interested in seeing a little more about my company than most, since you seemed curious during the game.  Mick was supposed to stop by a while ago but apparently didn’t get the time.”

 “This place is awesome!” exclaimed Matt.

 “Sorry, James.” muttered Mick.

 “No need to apologize.  We’ll just review with your family today what I wanted to tell you before.” replied James, smiling at us.

 I suddenly found myself floating as a soft breeze blew at me from inside the mansion.  Looking to my sides, I saw that my family, save for my daughter, were also floating.

 Before I could do more than exclaim in surprise, James spoke up, telling us, “Magic is real, and your family can use it.”

 I stared at them, my mind trying to figure out how he was doing this.  Was this some elaborate prank using a new technology?  “Wh-What…” was all I managed to say before we were gently lowered to the ground.

 “You wanted to know what I was feeding my employees.  I train them physically, mentally, and in magical arts.  We didn’t use spells at the baseball game, but we have numerous advantages that are completely unfair.” explained James.  “For example, I can physically lift your family’s van, though using spells is easier to ensure I don’t compromise the frame.”

 I swore, feeling like I had been had, before my better judgement kicked in.  My family was currently at this boy’s mercy.

 James’ smile broadened as he said, “If you don’t mind coming out back, I’ll ask the wonderful gardener to demonstrate something people tend to grasp more easily.”  Not hearing any argument from us, he motioned for us to follow him and started telling us  “Mirabella and Mike can’t create the electrical discharges like the rest of you.  She has a different heritage, and Mike took after his mother.”

 “How could you possibly know that?” asked Mike in surprise.

 “My secretary ran a background check on Iris prior to her being hired, and she’s so thorough that I feel like she knows everything.  You wouldn’t believe how long she takes to brief me on things.” explained James as he glanced back at my son.  “My concern with Mick is that he and Iris tended to play games with their ability, which caught enough notice for my secretary to file it in the report.  There are some out there who prey on those with abilities such as yours, so being a little more cautious tends to be wise.”

 That sounded far too believable.  I probably should have chewed those two out more often, but I had never believed anyone would have noticed their antics.  “You claim you can lift cars, and you can obviously lift us.  What else can you do, James?” I asked, wanting a firmer handle on whom I was dealing with.

 “So many things, Dad.  James is like a wizard combined with an overly strong fighter from some fantasy novel.” insisted Iris from behind me.

 I glanced back at her, surprised at how serious she looked.

 “I’ve also learned to make a great cup of tea.  My wife can be picky.” insisted James.

 “What’s that smell..?” questioned Mike longingly.

 Now that he mentioned it, I didn’t recognize the smell either, though I was certain it was food.  My mouth was already watering.

 “We’re almost to the kitchen, and Marco’s making you quite the treat.  I’m sure he won’t mind us passing through.  Just be prepared for a few samples.” encouraged James.

 The kitchen was as large as was fitting a house this size, and even there the fanciful engravings didn’t yield.  Every cabinet was beautifully carved, as were the very large table and chairs.

 Marco, the chef, was extraordinarily eager for us to sample “a few things” before we moved onward, despite assuring us that dinner would be ready soon.  Only when James pointed out there was more for us to see before dinner did Marco give way, giving us permission to pass through his kitchen into the garden beyond.

 The rain didn’t reach us as we followed James outside, hitting some invisible barrier and sliding away.

 “I don’t suppose you worry about getting struck by lightning.” I commented as I watched the sky.

 “Worried, no, but I didn’t find that to be pleasant either.” he told me sincerely.

 I stared at him, my eyes searching for any sign that he had ever been struck, but I found nothing, save for how confident he seemed.  

 “If your magic were stronger, you’d actually be able to guide a lightning bolt around you.  Iris has practiced enough that she could knock an assailant down with just the shock.” he commented, making me glance back at my daughter.

 “You can?” questioned Mick excitedly.

 She nodded, grinned, and said, “Yep, though I could take you in a fight without one.”  

 “All trained up now, are you?” questioned Mark, my eldest son.

 Iris laughed, shaking her head.  “You wouldn’t believe the standards here.”

 “I take it that James is the strongest, being the boss.” suggested Mike.

 James shook his head and said, “Not even close.”  Then he pointed to a fortress in the distance and asked “Do you see the keep over there?”

 I nodded along with a couple of my sons.

 “The strongest best friend created that with a stray thought.” claimed James.

 “What!?  No way!” exclaimed Mike.

 Nodding, James said, “She showed up in my office to tell me that she ‘oopsed’ a second after.  She’s been training recently to avoid that type of mistake.  I imagine she’ll be capable of creating a large city in a day on a whim within a few years.  I’d probably spend at least a week on a small town, and that’s if I collected the resources ahead of time.”

 I found the idea mind-boggling.  James seemed humble as he claimed that he could create a small town in a week.

 “You’d take at least a month, man-sla-... er… boss?” announced Emma, turning the statement into a question at the end.  “You get too distracted.  I could handle a village in an hour!”  She was soaked, but grinning.

 Before my eyes, the water soaking her clothes drifted away to join the rain outside.

 “Emma, I’m sure you remember Iris’ father, Grayson.  This is her mother, Mirabella.  From oldest to youngest, her brothers are Mark, Mick, Mike, and Matt.  Everyone, this is my gardener, Emma.”

 “Shouldn’t I be your favorite gardener?” she asked teasingly.

 “Sure.” he conceded.

 “Hear that?  I’m his favorite!” she exclaimed proudly.

 “Do you create villages with a stray thought?” questioned Mike.

 “Nah.  I do this.” she replied, watching us all.  After a couple seconds, wooden buildings rose out of the ground between the garden and the keep.

 “Mine would have functional electricity, plumbing, and the other luxuries people expect these days.” argued James with a smile.

 She stuck her tongue out at him.  Then she said, “My plumbing would work if I created a water tower.  Plants can be very good at guiding water.  As for electricity, I’ve been talking with Jarod about ways to generate a current with plants.  We have plans and stuff!”

 “You mean he had a crazy idea and chatted your ear off.” suggested James.

 “I thought the idea was cool and agreed to try eventually!” she insisted.

 “The idea was actually Maxine’s.  She has some experience with bioengineering from when she considered creating a cyborg army.” corrected Mila, who had discretely joined us without me noticing.

 “You can create cyborgs!?’ questioned Matt excitedly.

 “There has been some tech created here which could be used toward that end, but we’re not experimenting on people.” explained James.

 “I didn’t know you were in the tech industry.” commented my wife.

 James smiled at her and diplomatically told her “My company dabbles in many things to help prepare our best friends for a very large variety of jobs.”

 Grinning, Emma said, “He means to say ‘Yes.  Yes, we are.’  Mua ha ha ha ha!”  She drummed her fingers together while obviously attempting to look like some comic book villain.

James sighed and said, “Emma, mind getting rid of your starter village and showing the Storms how you help the kitchen?”

 “Fiiiine,” she begrudgingly told him, “but I might use some buildings to compliment the topiary when I change things up again.”

 “Sounds fun.” he agreed.

 From there, she started demonstrating how she could make the plants grow, revert to seeds, or provide as much food as she wanted.  She could also force plants to grow beyond their normal proportions and control them as easily as she controlled her own limbs, which led her into demonstrating how she had produced the bats her team had used for our baseball game.  Before she seemed remotely ready to quit demonstrating her abilities, Mila announced that food was ready.

 Instead of eating at the long table in the kitchen, we were taken to a large dining hall with an even more elaborate table.  There were already carts of food waiting nearby, and Mila urged us to help ourselves, since no one here would hesitate when they arrived.

 As we ate, we were entertained with more demonstrations of magic from those who had joined us.  James’ wife, Alma, created elaborate displays of fire and ice.  Ai and Mai created a sort of play with tiny figures made of water acting out their parts just above the table.  Jemal fetched more food for the particularly hungry using nothing but his magic, causing whatever was requested to float through the air.  James himself demonstrated illusions, making us see whatever he wanted while assuring us the magic the others had used was real.  Whether because I had felt myself being lifted earlier or because he had no reason to lie, I believed him.  Iris’ boss was the most interesting, and perhaps the most dangerous, man I had ever met.

[ickle-ronniekins]

tangled up

request: from nonnie! “love those sharing a bed tropes... not saying you should do it but you should definitely do it”

pairing: fred x fem!gryffindor!reader

word count: 2.3k

A/N: ummmmmm love this request, i'm in suuuucch a fred mood lately

warning(s): brief mention of war, ~implied sexual content~ i suppose

tag list: @mintlibri @seppys-return-to-madness @how-do-life-does @fopdoodledane @fredd-weasley @iprobablyshipit91 @semmelsemi @cottageoflove @laneygthememequeen @snakesonaplane-7 @keoghans @dreamer821 @wtfweasleyy @62442-am @the-hufflepuff-of-221b @obsessedwithrandomthings @thoseofgreatambition @harrysweasleys @sleep-i-ness @shadowsinger11 @shadychaoticcollection @haphazardhufflepuff @afriendlyneighborhoodhufflepuff @hood-and-horan @letsfightsomeorcs @theweasleysredhair @purpleskiesstorm @hxfflxpxffs @wand3ringr0s3 @finecole @angelinathebook @highly-acidic @purplefragile @90shermione @zreads @susceptible-but-siriusexual @hollands-weasley @andromedaa-tonks @bbstrawberry0421 @princessof-theuniverse @cappsikle @mytreec @imseeinggred @idont-knowrn @flyingserpxnt @auroraboringalis57 @godricsswords @jejegu @annasofiaearlobe @starlightweasley @alwaysasadaesthetic @thisismysketchbook @izzytheninja @imboredandneedalife @hemmoporro | message me to be added loves!

The cool October air had a bit of a bite to it -- it seemed as though Bill and Fleur’s wedding was ages ago. You wrapped a blanket around your shoulders to reduce the chill in your bones.

Suddenly two redheaded figures appeared with a pop! onto the field outside of your home. By what you could see, they’d apparated just before the line of protective enchantments -- a type of advanced magic only a very intelligent wizard could do.

“Bloody hell -- you’re a life saver, you know that?” George exclaimed as he finally reached you, wrapping you in a warm embrace. “I couldn’t be there for one more moment.”

Fred rolled his eyes and explained, “He means at Auntie Muriel’s. Being a bit overdramatic, are we, George?”

The elder twin shot his younger brother a look of amusement as George dropped his bag onto the floor and ran a hand through his hair. “Overdramatic? Tell me, Fred, would you like to go back?”

Fred then draped an arm across your shoulder and peered at his brother. “And reject our best mate’s offer to spend time at her lovely home? That would be so rude.” George swore he saw his twin shudder a bit, no doubt at the thought of returning to their Auntie Muriel’s to endure more yelling and criticism. George shot him a very sardonic look, and laughed lightly.

“Glad you two decided to come -- it’ll be nice having someone else in the house. I haven’t had a proper night’s sleep in months,” you waved your wand to pull three teacups from the kitchen cupboard and started the kettle. You felt a sense of ease at having your two closest friends here. “Should be alright out here, at least for a while.”

Fred glimpsed around your tiny little house. It was small, but exceptionally tidy with a very cozy feeling to it. It looked much different than the Burrow, but still emanated that feeling of home. “Lovely place you’ve got.”

“Thanks, Freddie,” you replied, handing him a steaming cup of tea. He gingerly took it out of your hands. “Just one problem.”

The twins chorused together, “What?”

“I’ve only got one extra bed.”

If the room hadn’t gone so eerily still at your comment, you never would have noticed the small jab to the hip George gave his twin. Fred grunted a bit and stifled a cough. “Oh, no worry -- George already said he’ll take the floor.”

Fred earned himself an eye roll and another jab.

You waved them both off and blew on your tea. “Don’t be silly! I’ll take the floor. You two’ve just got to battle it out for who gets the bigger bed.”

As if on queue, George immediately hoisted his bag back over his shoulder. He began walking away and pointed toward your very tiny spare bedroom off of the kitchen. “This one here, yeah? Thanks again, Y/N, really appreciate you letting us escape the wrath of our aunt -- I’m absolutely knackered, hope you two don’t mind if I turn in!” and with a quick wave to you and Fred, George closed the door and you both almost immediately heard very loud snoring. You and Fred exchanged a laugh.

You made sure everything was in order for Fred before leading him to your room. But you noticed he hadn’t brought his stuff with him -- you saw his belongings near your front door. With a wave of your wand, you brought it forward.

“I’m really okay to sleep on the couch,” he told you, pointing back toward the front.

“I’m not going to have you sleep on the couch,” you replied, shaking your head. “Besides -- you’re not staying out there. I might be a bit dramatic, but the couch is too close to the windows and the front door, and though I’ve been safe here for a while..” you voice trailed off a bit, and you swallowed down the nerves bubbling up inside of you. “Just -- we never know where the Death Eaters are. You take the bed, I’ll take the couch.”

You patted Fred’s shoulder, ready to head back out to your front room, when he took your wrist in his hand and whirled you back around to face him. “If I’m not allowed to take the couch, neither are you.”

You crossed your arms and swallowed. “Fine,” you replied with a grin. “Have got tons of extra pillows and a massive blanket here somewhere -- let me go and fetch it. Go on then, make yourself comfortable.”

“Merlin, you are being thick today,” Fred chuckled, and you noticed traces of the young boy you grew to love. He caressed small circles on the back of your hand. “Would you just sleep in your own bed?”

“But --” your breath caught in your throat. You glanced at your own bed, easily big enough for two, maybe even three, and went against your better judgement before you could overthink it. “Just share with me, then. Nobody takes the floor.”

A hint of nervousness flashed across his features before twisting into a cheeky grin. You continued on when he stayed silent, “What’s the matter, Freddie? You’ve been my best mate for the better half of the last twenty years. I mean, I’ve seen you in your bunny slippers, for Merlin’s sake --” Fred flinched uncomfortably at the memory of you catching him, late one evening in Gryffindor tower, in bunny slippers his mum had knitted for him as a child. You had never let him forget it.

His grin deepened alongside the crimson red colour of his cheeks. “Listen, woman, they are soft and keep me nice and toasty, alright?”

“Whatever you say,” you replied before sliding yourself underneath your warm blanket. You patted the other side of the bed in an accidental sensual way and realized how that must’ve come across. You quickly cleared your throat and turned off the light before you could see his reaction. “Erm -- there are extra pillows on the couch if you need.”

You felt his body slide in next to yours, and you could still make out some of his facial features from the faint light of the lightning strikes outside. He was definitely still grinning. “I’m fine, really.”

You figured out quite quickly that neither of you were able to sleep, especially because it was only eleven p.m. and because of the wild wind and rain that were howling outside of your window. The words were spilling out of you before you could help it. “Fred?”

He turned on his side to face you. “Yeah?”

You were laying on your back, looking up at your ceiling in the darkness. “Are you afraid?”

When he didn’t answer right away, you turned your head to face him too. Each time the lightning struck it was bright and vibrant, and highlighted his features in a more intimate way than ever before. He threaded his brows together and took a deep breath. “Yeah, I am.”

It was weirdly comforting hearing him say that he was afraid. The man who didn’t have a serious bone in his body was actually scared. It was strange and unnerving and brought a sense of solace to you all at once.

You sucked in a breath, worried that your normal evening anxiety would show solely through the look in your eyes. You turned away to glance toward the ceiling again when you felt Fred brush his fingers gently against yours under the covers. Your breath hitched at the contact.

“I think it’ll be okay though.”

“How can you be sure?”

“I suppose I can’t..” it was so weird, hearing him speak like this. He shifted again. “I just think.. we’re more prepared than before. Think there’s more of us this time. Besides, we’ve done our studying, and we’re all brilliant wizards.”

A smile tugged at the edges of your mouth. “You are kind of brilliant.”

“Wow,” he breathed, and it was almost a whisper. You noticed the way the edges of his eyes crinkled as he smiled. “Can I get that in writing?”

“Care to return the compliment first?”

“Hang on,” he replied, placing his hands behind his head in a bit of a relaxed state. “I need to bask in this for a moment.”

“Oh shove off, you git!”

You playfully swatted him before he retaliated. Soon enough you were both sitting upright, thwacking one another with pillows and laughing into the darkness of the night. Fred fell to the floor with a dull thump, and you stifled lots of giggles and shushed him as he slid back into bed next to you. “You’re going to wake up George!”

You weren’t sure how long the two of you were swatting at one another. It could’ve been hours, or perhaps days. But then the storm grew more fierce, and you found yourself scooting closer to him in bed. Fred always had a way of making you forget about everything going on around you. It was always surprising to you how you’d be able to drown out the rest of the world, as long as you listened to him talk, or as long as you watched him work on his inventions with gentle hands. Even in lessons, back in school, when he’d teasingly wink at you from across the classroom, you were pretty much rendered completely useless for the rest of the day. When it was just you and him, the rest of the world might as well not even exist.

He must’ve noticed how you zoned out, because he asked, “What’s on your mind?”

You turned on your side to face him fully this time. “Just reminiscing.”

“Yeah? About what?”

“Remember when we bumped into one another in the corridors during our fourth year -- I was sneaking sweets up from the kitchens, and you were attempting to sneak into one of the classrooms to finish working on inventions?” You smiled at the memory. “And then Filch was roaming around, and we nearly got caught?”

Fred laughed. You were happy that he remembered. “Never sprinted back to the common room so quickly in my life. That ruddy cat of his was clawing at my ankles.”

“Between the fact that I’d hardly gotten any sleep that night and the adrenaline rush, I was bloody exhausted.”

Fred snorted. “Yeah, you fell asleep in the armchair next to the fire almost immediately when we returned and began to snore rather loudly, if my memory serves me correct.”

You grinned, not skipping a beat. “Yeah, my snoring is almost as embarrassing as those slippers of yours.”

You expected him to groan and throw another pillow in your direction, but instead he just deepened his smile and reached out and placed his hand next to yours on the edge of his pillow, your fingers almost touching. “I dunno -- I thought it was cute.”

You really hoped the steady drumbeat sound of your heart was drowned out by the sounds of the thunder outside. You weren’t so sure though. “Yeah?”

He wet his lips and nodded. “I remember having to wake you up because it was nearly four a.m. -- fire had died out and you looked so uncomfortable in that armchair -- I just wanted to carry you upstairs. Except..” Yeah, jinxes by the professors at each respective staircase. Boys weren’t allowed in the girls dorms, and vice versa. You knew exactly what he was getting at.

You felt a swift surge of confidence overtake you, so you gently moved your fingers a few centimeters before you slowly intertwined them with his. He didn’t flinch. Your voice was softer than you expected. “What else do you remember about that night?”

It was an opening -- you didn’t want to be so blatantly obvious about it, but Fred could always read you like a book. You hoped he still could, after all these years. Luckily for the both of you, nothing had changed. He took the opening. “I remember wanting to kiss you.”

You bit your lip, hoping to suppress the nerves that were bubbling up inside of you like fizzy champagne.

Fred laughed cheekily. “Never got a chance, though.”

Before you could think more on it, you nudged his leg with your toes and scooted closer to him. You could see the steady rise and fall of his chest, you were so close. “Then kiss me now.”

His mouth parted slightly in surprise, but nevertheless he inched forward and caught your lips with his. They were soft -- softer than you ever could have imagined, and so was the kiss itself. He tasted faintly of mint, and and you found yourself breathing in deeper when he trailed one solitary finger across your jawline and down your neck. The feel of him against you warmed up your entire body in a way that the common room fire never could.

He sighed against your lips before reluctantly pulling away. “Mmm we should’ve been doing this the entire time,”

You laughed softly and brought your fingers to your lips, hoping to still feel that electricity. “Yeah, we probably should have.”

All thoughts of the war seemed to subside as he leant in to kiss you again. Somehow, being with him, your limbs entangled together -- it was enough to make you forget about the war on the horizon, everything that was about to happen. As far as you were concerned, as long as Fred was beside you, tangled in the covers of your bed, everything would be alright.

He tucked a piece of hair behind your ear. There was a mischievous glint in his eyes. His voice was rough and sensual and soft all at the same time as he wiggled his eyebrows at you. “Thanks for inviting me to sleep in your bed.”

You grinned and raked your bottom lip through your teeth. “Yeah, well, like you said -- we should’ve been doing this the entire time. Figured I’d get a jump start on what we’ve missed.”

He laughed and wrapped his arms tightly around your hips. Goosebumps sprouted on your skin as he lazily trailed his fingers up and down your spine and told you, “Knew you were my favorite for a reason.”

[beautifulterriblequeen]

Were you the person who had a post about "what if Rayla had died on the mission and Runaan had lived"? I was thinking about that... is there a possible scenario where Rayla had escaped with the egg and princes the same way as in canon, but Runaan and the other assassins had survived and now believed Rayla was dead and both somehow missed each other? The angst possibilities from Runaan's end, at least until he got back to Silvergrove, but even then he would angst over having 'abandoned' Rayla...

You know, I don't remember making a post like that, but I can tell it's an angst I could get behind, so maybe I did?

Fam, I love a good honest misunderstanding, oh man, those are great! Very tasty stuff. So let's see here... oh gosh this really took off, huh? Yas.

________________________

"Runaan, please," Rayla begged, planting herself between her mentor and her new allies the human princes, "this is a miracle, a chance for peace."

"No," came a smug, raspy voice from behind her, "it's not."

Rayla whirled in surprise. How had the dark mage gotten free of her manacle so quickly?

Claudia stood beside Callum, smirking confidently and holding the primal stone she'd just stolen back from him. But her smirk dropped at the sound of Runaan's bowstring. A green-fletched arrow whispered past Rayla's shoulder, headed for the dark mage's heart. Rayla's eyes widened as she realized she was about to watch her first human die.

"No!" Callum held his sketchbook in front of Claudia's chest. Runaan's arrow punched through it with a heavy thunk. Claudia, Callum, and Rayla stared at its poison-dipped broadhead in shock. The deadly metal fell just short of cutting through Claudia's tunic.

Rayla spun back to face the older assassin. "Runaan, wait-" But he was already loosing another arrow. Rayla cut it out of the air.

"Callum!" Ezran called plaintively. Bait, perched in his hair, croaked too.

"Get out of here," Rayla told the humans. "And keep that egg safe." She spared Claudia a single glare.

Runaan began striding closer, and he whipped another arrow from his quiver and nocked it. Rayla knew he'd loose that last arrow before he got close enough to use his swords instead. And that, she did not want to see at any distance. Not when so much else was at stake!

"That's far enough, elf," Claudia called threateningly. She held up the primal stone and began to chant in Ancient Draconic. The air started to crackle with lightning.

"Claudia, wait!" Callum shouted. He grabbed her wrist again, but this time, the primal stone wobbled and fell as they both scrabbled for control of it. Rayla gasped, watching it tumble. Neither of them were going to be able to catch it. She suddenly wasn't sure she wanted to, either. She shot Runaan a regretful, pleading look.

Runaan's arrow loosed. With everyone in motion, Rayla couldn't be sure if Callum would be in his line of fire when it arrived. She folded her swords and turned her back on her mentor, squeezed her eyes shut, and stepped into its path.

"Rayla!" Runaan's voice cracked the air like a whip.

"Rayla, look out!" Ezran shouted.

The primal stone hit the stone walkway and shattered.

The first massive gust of wind struck Rayla and tumbled her just as Runaan's arrow found its mark. With a cry of surprise, Rayla rolled across the high stone walkway, flanked by Claudia, Callum, and Ezran, who was somehow still holding onto the egg. Rayla thumped against the parapet and scrabbled for a grip against one of its crenellated edges, feeling her feet kicking in midair while a screeching gale scattered everyone and everything that had been on the castle roof a moment ago.

Runaan stood on the other side of the walkway, barely on his feet as he braced against the wind. His ponytail whipped like an angry snake, but his face was full of pain and alarm. "Rayla!" he shouted.

"Runaan..." Why was her voice so weak? Shouldn't she want his help?

Crumpled against the crenellated wall below Rayla's tenacious grip, Callum, Claudia, Ezran and Bait huddled together for dear life.

"Rayla, this isn't what I wanted!" Runaan shouted over the wind. He tried to stagger toward her through the strongest of the winds, but they only shoved him back against the far parapet.

"Claudia, help her!" Callum called.

But Claudia was distracted by the alarming amount of rainbow-hued magic that had begun crackling off the egg of the Dragon Prince. "What's happening?" she blurted.

"Help..." Rayla called.

"Fine, I'll help her, then!" Callum stood in the storm and reached for Rayla's hands.

Another arrow zipped past, whirling madly off target in the howling wind. Callum flinched back, then grasped Rayla's hands firmly. "I've got you!"

"And I've got him!" Claudia said. She pulled a glowing orange thing from her bag and started chanting, and she squished the orange shape until it oozed meatily between her fingers. Its gory remains caught fire, quickly swelling to a fervent blue heat that made the princes flinch away.

"No!" Rayla's grip slipped in shock, but Callum braced his feet hard and held on tight.

Then Claudia threw it, just as the storm grew an eye of calm.

Runaan was already leaping high with his swords in his hands. The fireball landed directly beneath him. Rayla's last sight of her mentor, as the blast struck Callum and forced her hands free of his, was of Runaan's tumbling, silent figure flying back over the outer wall of the castle and vanishing into the fury of the storm.

Was he coming to save me, or to kill me? she wondered as she fell too, engulfed by the same winds that took him. She closed her eyes, expecting to meet her fate, but a fluffy and overstuffed cart of hay had other ideas and Rayla flopped safely down into the courtyard.

Her first instinct was to jump up and go find Runaan. But then she remembered: his side of the castle roof had a much farther drop. She'd finished climbing it herself not an hour ago. And with all those rocks dotting the river, she couldn't imagine how he'd survive such a fall.

"Oh no... Ethari, I'm so sorry," she murmured brokenly.

But the storm was only growing stronger, and the rainbow lightning up on the roof grew brighter and brighter. Rayla stared in awe and amazement. Was the egg... hatching?

A newborn dragonling would need more protection than an egg. She scrambled out of the hay and darted through the wind, trying to find her way back up. Before she could, though, the storm wore itself out, and she ran into Callum, Ezran, and Bait as they bolted down a curving flight of stairs.

Rayla whipped out her swords. "Where's the dark mage?" she demanded.

"She ran to find her dad," Ezran said.

"Yeah, , but after she got giant heart eyes and squeed over the baby dragon," Callum added, looking starry-eyed in a conflicted way.

"The wot?" Rayla asked.

"Look!" Ezran opened his coat and showed her a cuddly, fluffy dragonling nestled quietly against his chest.

Bait grumbled, but Rayla gasped in delight and held the dragon's little face. "Oh, he's just so cute! Why is he allowed to be so cute?" she demanded playfully.

"His name is Zym," Ezran said.

"Hello, Zym," Rayla said quietly, ruffling his soft fluff. The dragonling sniffed at her hand and licked it, and then he nipped at her binding ribbon, pulling it off. Rayla stared at it in shock, allowing Zym the opportunity to nibble off the other ribbon, too. "Huh," Rayla mused. "Guess these things were just decorative after all."

They ran to the bottom of the stairs and began to hurry toward the main gate. "But what about Dad?" Ezran asked, looking worriedly at the uneven towers.

"He'll be alright," Callum said. "He has the finest guards in the kingdom defending him."

"Yeah, of course!" Ezran piped up.

Without Runaan, the others won't stand much chance, Rayla thought angstily. They'll soon fall too, if they haven't already-

"Rayla, uh..." Callum gingerly touched something stuck in the back of Rayla's hoodie. "You've got something on your back. Ez, go hide for just a second, okay? I need to help Rayla with something."

"...Okay, but hurry," Ezran whispered, as he darted into a shadowy tunnel. "Bait, no glowing, he didn't mean that kind of hiding."

"It's an arrow," Callum murmured to her, once Ez was out of earshot. "Is it, um, does it hurt? I didn't want him to have to see any blood or anything..."

The arrow. Rayla straightened her shoulders to see if she'd actually been hit. "I think it just missed me," she said lightly, not wanting to think about what would've happened if it had pierced even one more layer of clothing and scratched her skin with its deadly poison.

Callum tugged it out of the cloth and awkwardly offered it to her. Rayla took it and stared for a moment. The arrow's shaft had broken when she fell, and it dangled like a felled bird in her grip.

Runaan. He'd fallen, too. Probably permanently. Rayla's shoulders slumped, and she added, "I... We need to hurry. They'll be comin' for us soon, and it's a long journey to Xadia."

"Rayla!" It was Callisto, perched overhead in full Moonshadow form. "Where's- It's done?" he blurted, interrupting himself. His eyes locked onto Rayla's wrists.

A clamor of guards ahead drew his attention, and he leaped toward them, staff at the ready. Rayla grabbed Callum by the arm and ran, snagging Ezran's sleeve a dozen steps later. "Don't look back," she hissed, shifting into full Moonshadow form mid-stride. They didn't need to know she was only talking to herself.

In a few minutes, they reached the forest. Its cool shadows swallowed them whole, and they ran all night. There was no reason to wait anymore.

***

Runaan woke to gentle hands pulling him from the water. He coughed himself awake and sat up slowly, holding his head. When his focus returned, he shot an alarmed glance at the sky and saw that the Moon had nearly set. "We must hurry-" he began, trying to stand.

Four sets of hands pressed him back onto the grass.

"Easy, Runaan," Callisto said. "It's done. It's over. We can go home."

With wide-eyed disbelief, Runaan checked Callisto's wrists, then Andromeda's. Then Ram's and Skor's, too. Their binding ribbons were indeed gone.

A strange sort of lightness flitted through Runaan's chest, heady, intoxicating, and refreshing, erasing his injuries--or his perception of them, at least. His reward for a job well done. The ribbons around his biceps loosened and turned red before drifting to the grass as softly as newly fallen leaves.

Runaan reached back for his shadowhawk arrow and found his quiver gone. No... Ethari's arrow! He scanned his squad's expressions hopefully.

"Sorry. We couldn't find it. But we did find your bowblade," Skor said, offering it.

Runaan took it gratefully, feeling a bit of calm returning along with the familiar weight in his hands.

"We did it. We actually did it," Andromeda said as she got to her feet. Her smile beamed like the Moon. "I can't wait to get home."

"Unless Runaan needs a moment first," Callisto said mildly.

"No, we should leave now, and we should hurry," Runaan said. "Without the shadowhawk, the Queen of the Dragons will be waiting on my personal word. I should not keep her, not in her condition." The rest of his team stood immediately, and he took the hand Callisto offered and stood with focused effort. "We only need to make one stop along the way."

But the rock he'd parked Rayla on was empty. And so were the next dozen rocks. "You're certain you saw her?" he said, clasping Calisto by the shoulders, turquoise gaze boring into his eyes.

"Aye, clear as moonlight," he replied. "But only for a moment. And..."

"What?"

"The human with her pulled your... a-an arrow... from..." Callisto looked aside awkwardly.

"If she took even a scratch..." Andromeda breathed.

"Shh," Skor hushed her.

The assassins went quiet, waiting respectfully.

Runaan's eyes widened. He thought he'd struck true when Rayla stepped into the path of his arrow. Then he thought he'd missed, when she survived long enough to cling to the parapet and call his name. Then he thought the explosion had taken her. Then, hope again, only to have it ripped away one final time. He knew how terribly deadly his chosen poison was. His face froze in a mask of pain, and he shut his eyes. He felt like he was falling from the parapet again, except this time, there wouldn't be any merciful oblivion to put him out of his misery at the bottom. There'd never be a bottom to this fall from grace.

Ethari gave me one job. And I failed him. Does he know yet? Did he watch her flower sink?

Runaan gulped and gritted his teeth. Mourning would have to wait with all his other feelings. He still had a job to do.

He stood straight, gripping his bowblade, and met everyone's eyes, one by one. "We run for home. Ethari can make me a new arrow there. Move out."

They flowed into motion, and Runaan let them take the lead. It was only logical to track and follow the other elves, he reasoned, since he was having such trouble seeing the forest clearly through the tears in his eyes.

[sonoftatooine]

Whumpay 2021

DAY 25: AMNESIA

Characters: Anakin Skywalker, Padmé Amidala.

Warnings:  Brainwashing, implied/referenced torture

Summary: Sequel to Day 19 (Winter Soldier AU). Captured by the Rebellion after his failure to kill the Jedi Obi-Wan Kenobi, Darth Vader, Imperial enforcer and Sith apprentice to Emperor Palpatine, is visited in his cell by Padmé Amidala, the woman claiming to be his wife.

***

“How are you feeling, Anakin?”

Darth Vader did not move from where he lay, staring blankly up at the ceiling above his cot in the high security cell that the Rebels had placed him in after his failure to eliminate the Jedi, Obi-Wan Kenobi, some weeks ago. She asked him that each time she visited—Padmé Amidala, one of the founders of the Rebellion, and the woman who claimed to be his wife. Everyday, she came to see him, though he could never be quite sure of when her visit would be. She was quite late today—the droids that attended him had already given him his evening meal and his nightly dose of Force suppressants, and he had just reached the stage of feeling vaguely woozy from the renewed sensation of being cut off from his power when he heard the hiss of his cell door opening and closing, and the soft voice that had seemed ever so slightly familiar to him even as he heard it for the first time speaking in soothing, gentle tones. Here. The same as ever.

“I didn't think you were coming today” he said in lieu of an answer. His voice was hoarse and cracked from tiredness—a far cry from the intimidating bass that his mask's vocoder afforded him. It had been slashed in two by Kenobi's saber before he had been brought here. Kenobi, whose smug self assurance had turned to abject horror the moment he had seen his face. Kenobi, who had pleaded with him to remember him as he had tried to get his hands round his throat upon waking up in an unfamiliar cell surrounded by enemies—

“I'm sorry,” Amidala said. There was a rustle of fabric as she moved closer, coming to perch beside him on the cot. “There was some urgent business that I had to attend to. But I'm here now.”

Yes, Vader thought. You are. He turned his head to look at her—though she barely came up to his shoulder when they were both standing, lying prone as he was, she seemed to fairly tower over him. His instinct should be to flinch away, he thought, to keep his distance from his jailer, trapped in this cell as he was. But somehow, it wasn't. There was something, something— Besides, he had neither the will nor the energy to lift a finger, let alone anything else.

That was it. Yes, that was it.

“Are you alright?,” Amidala asked with a frown. “You don't look well.”

Alright? If he had been asked that before his capture by the Rebellion, he thought he could have said what that meant. Alright was a day that he hadn't made his master angry, hadn't brought any punishments on himself—no lightning, no choking, no dark cell. But now, here, everything was getting muddled up in his mind. He couldn't think like this, not when he was cut off from the Force and had no way of knowing lie from truth. She was close—so close—and he wished he could sense her intentions as he could with everybody except his m— No, so that he could escape this place and return to Lord Sidious with the leaders of the Rebellion in tow. That was what he wanted. It was.

And if he hadn't tried as hard as he might have done to escape, well, that was just because the Force suppressants were making him feel strange and it was hard to concentrate or— His eyelids drooped, heavy with exhaustion. He couldn't think about this right now.

“Tired” he replied, then froze. He hadn't intended to say that. Don't admit weakness. Sith don't have weakness. But there was something about Amidala that made him want to trust her, and he was far too exhausted and empty to fight against the urge.

“Did you not sleep well last night?” Amidala asked. Her hand twitched oddly at her side, as if she had instinctively started to reach for him and aborted the action before she could. She looked very sad, but she always looked sad.

“I don't sleep well” she admitted. He'd never slept well, for as long as he could remember. Nightmares plagued him—of his master's punishments, of his missions, and other, more elusive things that left him shaking and crying with terror but could never recall beyond vague impressions of deep darkness and red light and a vicious cackling in his ears once he woke. It was the latter that had haunted him last night, chasing him back into wakefulness whenever his eyelids so much as drooped shut. In the end, he had decided to forgo rest entirely, bundling himself up in the warm robe that Amidala had brought him, and waited for morning to come.

“You never did before, either,” Amidala said. “The war...”

She trailed off, suddenly distinctly misty-eyed. The war. He knew that she meant the Clone War. They told him he had fought in it as a General. A Jedi General. Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker. He had met the man who had claimed to be his captain, briefly. Rex. And the woman who had supposedly been his padawan—Ahsoka Tano. She had cried when she'd seen him, even as she held him back from attacking her.

“I don't remember the war,” he murmured. He knew, vaguely, that he shouldn't be telling her all of this—if she was lying, revealing anything about his situation was only giving her further fodder for her deception, and that wasn't even taking into considering the general principle of not revealing information that could be used against you to your enemies. But there was something, that strong urge in his mind that he could neither identify nor understand, that was telling him he should be honest with her, should trust her. That it was both good and right to do so. Well, Lord Sidious had always said he was far too trusting, that it would be his downfall if his master were not there to prevent it. “My master told me I fought in it.”

He saw her flinch at the word “master”, biting down so hard on her lip he thought she might make it bleed. She looked as if she were about to cry. Of course, he knew what she thought of his master (she was wrong, naturally; his master had done everything for him, she was wrong, she had to be wrong), what she claimed he had done to him. If she was lying, he thought, she must be an excellent actor.

“Is that...all he told you?” She sounded like she was trying to stay calm, but he could hear the tremor in her voice.

“He didn't tell me much about...before,” Vader replied flatly. He had asked, sometimes, but his master didn't like questions. His hands shook at the memory of purple lightning burning through his veins. “He didn't think it was important.”

He certainly hadn't cared to tell him that he had once been a Jedi Knight. Which he wasn't. He had never been a Jedi. He hadn't. He was getting muddled, confused after weeks on end in this cell with no company but various Rebels regarding him with earnest looks and filling his head with equally earnest words about how he had been used and deceived and that they loved him and wanted nothing more than to help him heal from what the Emperor had done to him— No. No, it wasn't true. He wouldn't believe it. He wouldn't betray his master like that—his master to whom he owed everything. Everything. And yet...

And yet. There was something that didn't sit right in all of this. If he had fought in the Clone War as a powerful Force sensitive, surely he must have been a Jedi? If he had been a Republic soldier at least. All the Darksiders that fought in the war, as far as he was aware, had been Separatists. Surely he couldn't have been a Separatist? They had been evil, spreading chaos and carnage across the Galaxy to the point where his master had been forced to create the Empire to restore order and security when the ineffectual Republic proved less than capable, bogged down by its bureaucracy and over-reliance on the Jedi Order. But if neither were true, then surely he couldn't have fought in the war—not in an official capacity at least. But then, that must mean that, whichever way he looked at him, his master had lied to him and if his master had lied to him once—

No. He wouldn't allow himself to consider it. He wouldn't. His master hadn't lied to him. There was a reasonable explanation. There must be. There must be. Biting back the distressed little noise that was building in his throat, he squeezed his eyes shut, twisting his fingers together beneath the sleeves of his robes. His master hated it when he did that—he'd struck him on several occasions when he failed to suppress the nervous gesture—but Amidala didn't seem to mind it.

“Can I get you anything?,” she asked. “Anything that might help—?”

Vader shook his head.

“I don't need anything.”

“But do you want anything?”

The question had his eyes shooting back open as he turned back to stare at her, incredulous. Want anything? Want anything? He wasn't supposed to want things. He wanted what his master wanted, because he was to serve his master in all things and he owed his master everything—it would be low and ungrateful to want more than he was given—

He wanted...

He wanted...

He looked up at Amidala's beautiful face hovering above him, and he wanted more than anything for what she was saying not to be a lie. That he was her husband, that she loved him, and wanted him to be safe and well and protected from any who would try to hurt him—

No.

“I can't—” he gasped out. He could feel the edges of panic coming upon him, and with great difficulty, he forced himself to breathe slow and deep, counting the seconds as he did when these attacks came upon him. His master didn't like it when he— It was weakness and Sith didn't show weakness— He couldn't— “I...I don't know.”

The admission made him feel small and weak and pathetic, but it didn't seem as frightening with her as it would have done with his master. That, despite the fact that he knew it wasn't the answer she wanted, she wouldn't lash out like Lord Sidious did when he was displeased. All she did was smile at him sadly through a film of tears, giving him a tiny, barely perceptible nod.

“That's alright,” she said. “Would you like me to leave you to rest?”

“I...” Vader swallowed. He was suddenly aware of the fact that, faced with the prospect of her leaving, he really did not want her to go. He shouldn't, of course he shouldn't—his master would be so angry if he knew—but he didn't want— He couldn't ask her to— “Will you...will you stay?”

Amidala's eyes widened at the hesitant question, and for one long moment, he was sure he had made a horrible mistake, but then her face split into the first true smile he had seen upon it. Small though it was, and as hesitant as he felt, it seemed to him to be blinding in its intensity.

“Yes, Ani.” She reached out, slowly, carefully to cradle his flesh hand in both of her own. They were small and strong, the warmth of her touch pleasant against his skin. He did not pull away. “Yes, I'll stay with you. Try and get some sleep. I'll be here with you.”

That night, for the first time he could remember, he slept soundly, still holding onto her hand.

[urimaginespimp]

This Love - Prologue

Quick Note: There was a deleted scene in Age of Ultron where Thor visits the Norns in a cave in order to know how to defeat Ultron. This is where I am introducing you, reader. Enjoy!

--------

Norns are fortune tellers who can only speak by possessing people's body, and could precisely read someone’s fate and future when they are in the pool of water inside the cave – the very one you’ve been calling home.

Your own mother, an elemental witch, took you with her in the cave a long time ago to know about her own fate. When she was told of the doom that was to end her in a month’s time, she made the brave decision to leave you under the care of the Norns to spare you the heartbreak and dangers of the world.  

Despite being in their company for over a century, they were being selfish when it came to you wanting to know about your own fate. All they’d tell you is that when one of the most powerful gods were to visit the cave, you were to leave with him and only then would you get to start fulfilling your destiny.

All your life, the only visitors that have gone in and out of the cave were those who were either power hungry, or foolish.  

That was until that one fateful day. Two men entered the cave – one a bit older in appearance, and one with longer golden hair and a towering form. The witches need not tell you that this was the god you were to leave with. You somehow already felt it.  

You stood back as he was possessed by the witches. His eyes were glowing, and lightning was occasionally hitting the cave. The old man with him was asking all the questions. He was asking about how to defeat an enemy named Ultron, and witches were telling him that human sacrifice had to be made.  

Was your destiny to fight alongside him? Or to be an enemy?

You did not realize that you were spacing out until the god’s booming voice in harmony with the witches called your attention.  

“Our child, this is the god that would lead you to your destiny. Never forget you were raised by powerful witches. A new life and family await you.” They stated, until the god’s voice was the only one left grunting, and his eyes went back to their natural state.  You gave a moment to catch his breath while still in the pool, before scooting down on the ground to somehow be on his level.

“So you’re like my father now.” You gave him an innocent smile. “I’ve never had one.”

He looked at you as if he’s still processing what just happened. “And I never thought I'd leave this cave with a daughter.”

--------

Having accepted the responsibility the Norns had given him in exchange for answers, he took you back to Midgard, into a towering cave? It was so tall and it appeared to have a lot of layers. He took you up with him to a layer where Midgardians were seemingly fighting while a body was laying down on a table in the middle of the room. And before you knew it, he barged in through the glass and the fight immediately stopped as he struck the body on the table with lightning.  

Everything around you were strange. You’ve never heard of Midgardians having powers, yet here you were, being introduced to the people who have been fighting just a minute ago. The thing that was just given consciousness was called vision. And despite being alive for centuries, you felt like you were just born like him.  

“Y/N is in my ward now. She’s an elemental witch.” Thor explained to them. They all gave you a curt nod. You noted that the man with a star on his chest offered you a kind smile, almost embarrassed that you had to see them fight with each other just now.

“So, you basically adopted an avatar.” The man wearing a red hard suit replied with an incredulous expression.

“Uh- yes. Whatever that means.” Thor replied.  

“Well, I also didn’t think we have enough aliens. I’m Tony, sweetheart.” He offered his hand for you to shake. 

When Vision started talking to everyone about Ultron, it was only then that you were finally able to grasp a little on the situation. The people you were with call themselves Avengers, and as far as you’ve heard, they’re good people.  

“... so there may be no way for you to trust me, but we need to go.” Your thoughts were halted when Vision handed Thor his hammer to him as if it were nothing.

And everything just got even more confusing for you.

---------

The Norns were right. Human sacrifice had to happen in order to defeat Ultron. You did the best you could to help everybody, especially making sure the Midgardians were to safely get into a floating “ship” as you heard them call it.

You were now standing in a large room surrounded by glass. It was overlooking the city you were just told the name of but couldn’t quite recall.  

The young girl who you now know as Wanda, was grieving for her twin brother. He had died shielding a young boy from getting hurt. You couldn’t help but wonder if the same fate were to greet anyone else in the tower one day, and if they have already come into terms with the possibility.  

“I’m going back to Asgard, Y/N.” Thor greeted you when he reached your side. You didn’t even realize he was approaching. “Would you like to come?”

“I’m not quite sure I want to leave this place just yet. Midgards are quite fascinating.”  

“What made you say that?” He raised an eyebrow at you.

“One proposed marriage to me while I was in the middle of blocking Ultron’s army with the rocks. And just this morning when Steve was showing me around the city, a lady whom I’ve never met came up to tell me she could tell my lips were fake. What did that even mean?” You both chuckled, shaking your heads.  

“So I just got a daughter a few days ago, and now I’m having to let her leave my nest.” He turned you gently by your shoulders so you could face each other. “I know we’ve only met a few days ago, Y/N. But I am a man of my word.” He took your hand and laid a small coin bag on your palm. “What’s inside there would make you half as rich as Tony once sold here.” He explained.

“You’re gonna be okay, kid. Reach out to me whenever you want.”

“May I know how, father?” you gave him a sheepish smile. You still couldn’t believe he actually lets you acknowledge him as such.

“You can do it through this thing they have... an electronic letter called an e-mail.”  

Your confused face made him chuckle. “You’ll learn their ways, Y/N.” He assured you with a pat on the shoulder.  

“We’re gonna take care of her.” A voice interrupted you both. It was Steve. And walking with him was Natasha. You grinned from recalling how she promised earlier to help you live like a normal civilian, and train like them.  

“She’s an Avenger now.”

--------  

Hey there! This is the first installment for a Bucky fic. I just needed to get the reader (you) a semi-back story. The next part would be set on Civil War, and finally meeting Bucky.

Have a great day!

Main Masterlist   Marvel Masterlist

Part 2 is up Here

[symphonyofthewrite]

If These Walls Could Talk 

Freaking GORGEOUS cover art by Junki Sakuraba on Instagram and Deviantart!! Definitely go check him out!! His art is incredible, and from what I can tell he’s really nice dude. He absolutely went above and beyond with this prompt. 10/10 would commission again. (And probably will once I save up enough money XD)

The wonderful art later in the chaper is by niuan_ on instagram!!

It wasn’t made/commissioned for this fic--(though I’ve since commissioned her to make cover art for me, so stay tuned for those!)--but when I saw it I couldn’t believe it!! That’s one of my favorite images in this chapter, and I couldn’t believe another artist made a piece for the same idea independently!!

I'll put the links to their profiles either in the replies or a reblog (since tumblr is dumb about links)!!

Also, FYI, I'll be using this post as my "reblog post" meaning I'll reblog this post with the later chapters of this fic, so they're all in one place. So if you want to read more of this fic, check the reblogs on this post, chances are more chapters will be there!!

Comments and reblogs are MORE than appreciated!! If you have a spare minute you will really make my week, and motivate me to keep writing!!

Fandom: Castlevania Netflix

Summary: Vampires do not have reflections, and castles do not have hearts. But Dracula is no ordinary vampire, and Castlevania is no ordinary castle. If castles can fight, maybe they can think too.

The series, and Adrian’s childhood, told from the perspective of the castle.

Chapter Summary:

“My mother’s name was Lisa, and she was mortal…She actually showed up at his front door. She found the castle and banged the door with the pommel of her knife…She was remarkable. She beat on the door until my father let her in, and then demanded he teach her how to be a doctor.”

Chapter 1: "Lisa”

“Is this how the castle felt to you before my mother first arrived at your door?”

The castle doesn’t like children.

Well, maybe that’s too strong to say. It simply isn’t the place for them. Its existence is a signpost: leave me alone. It is not used to having company—much less a family—inside it, nor is it ready to welcome for a crying, puking, giggling thing into the world. It does not intend to be a cozy place to coddle him into adulthood.

The castle itself pierces the sky, its turrets and towers the dripping stain of the sun’s blood across the moon.

The bare walls hold no colorful tapestries for a child to enjoy, no paintings of its many inhabitants to tell of—for there was only ever one (and maybe that ought not change. It is safe to say the castle doesn’t like change). The royal red and gold carpets are more suited to kings; not designed for spit-up, mud, and scuffing. ‘Don’t play with that’ would be a motto around here; so many contraptions either easy to break, or which could break the child. The fireplaces, while almost always lit, only ever coughed warmth onto the floor before them—they provided no snug space to curl up on a winter’s day. Even the mirrors here are empty, holding nothing but a reflection of the bare walls they sit upon.

There are certain people who were seemingly born as they are; they never owned toys, never crawled on the floor, never walked with clumsy steps—their footfalls were always this calculated count—never burped on their mother’s nice shirts, and surely never had anything so dull as a childhood. They were always just…here, on the world. There was no innocence, and no losing it. So it was with Dracula.

The very thought of Dracula ever owning toys, even in some nice cottage far away from here, with a doting mother and an absent father, with a funny last name like Cronqvist, defied sense to the castle. So no, no toys here, nor any simple charts for learning; the books divulged their secrets to more mature minds. Just blood and books, gold and gears, forgotten magic means, mirrors that reflect nothing, and a pile of prayers to a good God they used to justify their ungood, and ungodly deeds.

All these things—or their absence—do not make for the picture of a baby-proof home.

The castle has grown accustomed to being cold and dark, and listening to one master alone. It’s not a quaint place lovers look on and think we’ll raise our kids here someday.

Its master isn’t the ideal father either—after all, the castle only reflected its king. Its master knows only of blood and nails, fangs and wails, words too big for a child’s mouth, and worlds too dark for a child’s heart.

Can he be soft? Can he be gentle? Can he keep those claws, which have ripped out better men’s hearts, from piercing a child’s—his child’s…how could one who killed so many have a child?—skin? He knows many spells, but is there one that can turn those screams into laughter?

He has been soft before. Once. And that is with this woman.

Many women have walked the castle’s halls: shivering, shrieking damsels at his feet; cold and calculating queens; fragile bodies on the floor, that he broke with the same regard a child does a vase that matters to someone else.

Those ordinary people who do come often have pitchforks in their mouths, and fiery words in their closed fists. Curses stacked on the end of stakes, banging like the castle is the church bell signifying their own funerals.

It is for this reason that the castle does not like outsiders, does not open its doors easily. But it cannot deny anyone entry. Unlike the humans’ doors, which find his master guilty until proven innocent.

They always came at night. At night, when the loudest sound is your own breathing. At night, when their fires echoed loudest, and their shouts burned brightest.

They came when the flowers were closed, when only the most eerie and vicious of animals played with the skins of their prey, and the moon waxed the world in cold, drunk shine. The sun could not watch them, could not show their blood-struck hands in their full glory.

She came at sunset. When the sun still glazed her deeds in sanguine auburn, but was just deciding to turn its gaze and let the kids have their fun. Not quite day, when the sun would kill things like Dracula, but not quite night, when the hours are named after witches, and lust is strongest—be it for the body, or the blood within it. Somewhere in between death and life, violence and peace.

This woman came with a knife in her hand, yes. But a knife, at least, was not a sword. It was not a pitchfork, a spear, a whip, or a stake; all weapons that signify, if the fight wasn’t there, you were bringing it with you. Not a war-starved weapon, pointing with mal-in—and -con—tent towards the castle doors and all the things inside it. Not a thirsty thing. Something that by default faced the other direction. Something that can start a fight if it wants to, but doesn’t crave it.

The golden woman came at sunset, with a knife in her hand, and looked upon this thing, this castle that others called ‘ugly’, and ‘monstrous,’ and ‘grotesque,’ looked upon it with awe, and gasped in wonder.

She knocked. She didn’t bang her fists upon the stone, didn’t ram pitchforks and assorted insults against the innocent doors, like how-dare-they protect their master.

She knocked, and the doors opened before she could raise her fist a second time. Maybe, just this once, not because they didn’t have any other choice.

The doors—foreboding, menacing, and all the other spooky -ings one can think of—opened to a world strewn in light; the demon’s castle looked brighter, more beautiful, more alive, than half the churches she’d been to.

Her footsteps were gentle against the castle’s floors. Not a slow, forced gentleness, but also not a piercing, purposeful march. There was no apprehension to her footsteps; her feet carried her as if anxious to take her to as many rooms as they could.

At first her steps were the only sound, enough to fool some into thinking they’re alone.

And it became clear both that she was not alone, and not a fool.

But when she saw the demon, she put the knife away, and used her words.

She used her words to repeat those she herself had heard: stories. But not the kind that make monstrous men run at the doors with naughts and crosses, the kind pious people buried along with all evidence that the world wasn’t made of black and white.

Not all the stories told that this place was cold and dark and full of death.

Amongst all the stories about death, there were others that said Vlad Tepes brought this castle to life with science, forbidden knowledge, and a little bit of lightning. Stories that say there is life here.

And, in exchange for proof that these life-stories true, Dracula asked for a trade, a trade that would prove the other stories true too. He gave up the killing a while ago—(the castle has been in one place a very long time)—but he was still not used to giving for free, and definitely not used to getting for free. Vampires trade in blood and names, not diamonds and declarations. Vampires trade in things they can swallow. This castle, too, had been a gaping hole set to swallow the world and everything that entered. Never once had it given.

And she dared to say, that this place, its master, should learn to give, when the humans have done nothing but take from them—or try their best to. He ought to be the one to invite her in, to ask what she would like, to dispense pleasant words and kind actions, when the humans forgot they invented hospitality, and showed no invitation for him to even enter their homes.

But she didn’t come with a mouth full of garlic, and hands full of superstition. Her feet did not drill holes in the floor with their sharp toll, they wandered the scenic route.

She was used to being cheated. Dracula and his castle were too. But that was not why she was there. She was not there for cheap tricks, or death. She wanted something real. A little bit of the life the castle has to offer.

Her defiance wasn’t that of a terrified citizen, or angry queen, either; rather the calm resolve of someone who is asking for something they know in their heart is good, and knows they will get it. The kind of person who believes there is good in everyone, and that this good will ultimately always win, and who won’t leave until they convince this good to show its face.

The castle has watched countless men and women cower at the foot of count Dracula. Some, do have a measure of god-sanctioned defiance; they come with whips and scourges to defeat him. The castle and the king are bound together in their resolve against them.

Except one. Except this woman. One human whom both master and castle found themselves reluctant to deny, cast away, or kill, maybe even…taken with.

She may be human, but she was not like the rest; she did not light the night on fire with her thirst for blood.

So maybe, just maybe, they could let one ray of sunlight slip through the cracks.

She was also not devoid of life, and maybe that was the key.

‘Devoid of life’ was an accurate portrayal of the castle. Bats flying out of blackness is a good description of a cave, and caves don’t usually come with the brochure ‘teeming with life’, or ‘great place to take your kids!’. The castle had a soul-sucking quality to it; those who entered often found themselves leaving less alive than they arrived. It took after its vampire master. Those who didn’t actually lose their lives within its walls, often remarked upon leaving that the flowers bloomed brighter, the birds sang louder, the grass was greener, and that they missed the sunlight.

Sunlight. Such a base thing; vampires don’t need the light or warmth to be happy.

Sunlight. Such a base way to die; wanting to get out of the cold and the dark.

“Is this how the castle felt to you before my mother first arrived at your door?”

Castlevania was alive once. Once Dracula set the pumps, and its heart began to beat. He turned the gears, and its lungs inhaled. He forged the lightning, and it began to think. Once the books, full of unknown knowledge, jumped off the shelves to get the vampire king’s attention. He filled the bottles and beakers, and they bubbled, as if laughing at a joke only they shared.

They were both alive, once.

That waned, with time. The gears got arthritis, the books caught pneumonia, the experiments atrophied. The castle ached before she came.

And Dracula, alone in the halls, picking up books and putting them down again without so much as a polite glance through them, because he read them all before. Dracula looking into fractured mirrors that could take him anywhere, but deciding there wasn’t anywhere he wanted to go. Dracula, looking into old mirrors that don’t reflect him—like there was never anything to reflect, nothing alive here to begin with, and there isn’t a master for this castle after all. Nothing but a grave. Dracula sitting alone in his study, staring into the fire. No one to talk to. No sound but flipping pages and crackling fires—nothing alive. Alive but dead. This castle. Its master. Undead is the proper term.

The other women who came through here reflected the castle, or else the castle took the life out of them the moment they entered. Queens with malice-stained past, and cracked, icy future in their eyes. Just as cold as the walls. Subjects, humans throwing gruesome insults, silky flattery, or fluttering pleas at his feet. Just as empty as the mirrors.

Only one refused the castle’s bite. Only one walked in looking for life, rather than death. Looking for a thing no one thought existed here. Already presumed dead. Put six feet beneath the ground. But maybe it was here all along; maybe the light hid in the castle’s corners while the dark came out to play, and she just had to coax it out of its hiding places. Maybe the bell was ringing all this time, she was the only one who came close enough to hear it; the only one who came to put flowers on the grave.

Maybe when she felt the machinery pumping she knew the rhythm was a heartbeat. Maybe when she heard the gears clanking she knew it was the sound of inhaling and exhaling. Maybe when she saw the lightning, she wondered what it was thinking. Maybe she looked at these books, these instruments, and saw what the vampire king saw once; something alive. They weren’t dead yet—un- or otherwise. Just sick, and in need of proper treatment. She was a doctor after all. Maybe her first subject was the very books she learned from.

Lisa, who looked at this blotch on the sky, with Death in its towers, and darkness splattered on its walls, and thought that’s where I’ll learn to heal people. Lisa, who gaped in amazement at the beast of a building. Lisa, who didn’t shudder upon entering. Lisa, who didn’t scream when its master touched her, but turned to him with calm resolve, and told him she’d teach him to be more human. Lisa, who’s life eclipsed the undeath in this place.

And there was a trade that occurred that day. For Dracula’s immortal knowledge, Lisa would teach him how to live a mortal life. To travel the world as a man, to walks as a man, to eat and drink, laugh and cry, as a man. Immortality for mortality. They gave each other the world, as so many lovers promise to do. Vlad would make her immortal, and Lisa would make him mortal, with no exchange blood.

(Except to create a thing with both their blood running through it.)

So maybe, after all this talk of life, it is fitting that she wants to create life inside this castle.

Fitting, maybe. Fitting for her. But the castle is not mortal yet, and wishes it could protest that it isn’t the right size, refuse to try on the idea.

Dracula is apprehensive as well, for the castle and he are used to each other, they take after each other, because the cold, and the dark, and the death, and the alone does something to you after a while; you start talking to the walls. After the cold queens and quaking colleens leave, or leave their bloodstains the floor. After the beasts and their silver-stained bullets turn back into righteous men in the sun. After he simply outlives everyone else. When all the living things hate, fear, or else betray you, when all the living things can die, and you, who are undead, cannot, it’s the lifeless things that stand firm by your side. When the day ends and the shadows come out to play, when you’re the only one left, in the end you still have the walls. And then…the walls are all you have. And if you talk to them long enough you make a sort of pact, spoken or silent, with those speechless stones: ‘you’re the only one I can trust.’

Dracula speaks to them one day, says he wonders if he can do this, be a father at all, not to mention a good one. The castle cannot reply. But something deep inside the walls wonders if it might be nice to hear Dracula laugh. It might be nice to put on some different clothes. It might be nice for someone new to listen to from time to time. It might be nice to live again.

The castle is concerned. Used to doing things one way, being one way, and only hearing one voice. But that doesn’t mean it is unwilling, that it intends to kill the child.

It never kills anything—Dracula does that. It cannot do anything on its own, and that includes change.

The castle doesn’t like change.

…But that doesn’t mean it won’t.

And if its going to change, its master must change first. They must change together.

Vampires do not have reflections. But Dracula has a castle, and that castle will be damned if it isn’t his mirror.

Reflections are simple to change; put on some makeup, some war paint, a new change of clothes, get a piercing somewhere. Simple, yes, but not easy, to change completely, because that doesn’t mean anything’s changed inside.

The castle did not come equipped for child-rearing; there are no rooms full of toys and cradles and school supplies.

So if this is to be, they must build their son’s world themselves.

Together they set aside a room for the child’s arrival. Just one, single room. And the castle too knows, from the start, this room will be different from all the rest. They will put paintings on the walls, and banners in the halls; things to interest him, to tell him of his parents, at least, even if there are few other relatives to spend Christmas with. The carpets will be darker, instead of the stringent red, and they will make their words smaller, the books easier to understand. The rest of the castle is warm in color, but cool in atmosphere. This room will be cool in color, but warm in atmosphere. The fire will always be set in its place, and they will try their best to make sure the warmth reaches him; if the fire fails, they will knit blankets; if the blankets fail they will make him tea, or warm milk with honey; and when everything else fails they will hold him. If there are tears here, scornful stares will not greet them, instead, kisses and lullabies will be behind door number three. If this room lives, it will be because of something much softer than pounding metal and lighting.

If a child is to live here, they must change that reflection. Everything Dracula’s castle appears to be, this room will be the reverse. Separate. Something… other than the castle.

This room will bottle all the laughter had in this castle. This room will be made of and for living, not the death the rest of the place is steeped in. So much so that this room will not stand for bloodshed.

Lisa brings in supplies from her town; color and cloth, boards and brushes, needle, and thread, and paper; all the things one needs to build a universe.

It is Dracula who takes the paint, who changes the color to something other than the blacks and reds of the rest of the Vampire’s world, cementing on the walls themselves You will not be dark here, my castle. You will be kind to him, Castlevania. The castle doesn’t know its master to work with his hands like a human, but Vlad is not the same within this room either—this room is part of the trade. He doesn’t use magic, or science, as if he is telling himself with every hammer that they are going to change together, the way one does when talking to the mirror.

Lisa sits in a chair and stiches together cloth and fur to make little creatures, toys for the boy to play with. Soft things, not sharp. They are reflections too, littler, simpler ones, of the creatures howling and prowling outside the castle’s walls, or scurrying within them.

But it is the ceiling that is the crowning jewel of the room. Something they paint together—splashing it onto each other’s clothes and noses.

His parents love the stars. They often walk outside the castle walls, fingers knit into each other’s, to gaze at them. They are scholars at soul, and have charted the constellations. They want their child to be able to do the same, to watch the stars, even if he’s not outside. At the end of every day they want him to be sung to sleep by the symphony of the night.

For them, maybe, but to the castle, one of the most interesting things about this room, is the mirror. This is strange, as, while there are other mirrors in this house, they are nothing more than a silver decoration; they have no purpose here, unless they float in shards and possibility. This is an ordinary mirror. It does hold something now, however, and that’s Lisa—only giving more credence to the idea that she is the only living thing in this castle. The castle wonders if they think it will reflect the child, as if they are hoping he will take after his mother and the room.

The mirror, and the windows. In the rest of the castle, the windows are always closed, curtained, or too small to let any real light in. But here they are big, and inviting to all the wiles of the day. Dracula protested—fearing he would burn. Lisa insisted—hoping he would shine.

The mirror, the room, are empty now. The windows closed. The books and charts dormant as the rest. It is not dead, but it’s not alive either. Not even undead. Just a question. An almost.

The room lays on Frankenstein’s table; just one lightning strike—(or one child’s laugh)—away from breathing.

[ascendantevolution]

Balancing the Physical and Spiritual in the Human Experience

One of my major goals is to try to stay firmly rooted in the physical while remaining absolutely connected to the spiritual. I want to live on the bridge between 3D (everyday, physical existence) and 5D (among other things, the spiritual realm). More accurately, I want to exist in 5D and "do" 3D. I have no doubt that I am on this Earth to learn things and to do things that are very specific to what Spirit wants and needs done. That requires thoroughly engaging in the 3D, meaning the physical realm - as if I have a choice. Sometimes life comes at me, and there is nothing to do but to respond.

In the Tarot, there is a card called the Tower. This card depicts a tower that is being struck by lightning. The lightning has cleaved the tower so that the top of it is tumbling off and is going to hit the ground. Meanwhile, there are people falling from the tower. Some are feet first, indicating that they chose their fate by taking the leap out of the tower, which is falling around them. The others are falling head first, indicating they were pushed from it by force.

Typically, having a Tower show up in a tarot card reading is not viewed as being favorable because they indicate change, which scares people. For the record, some Tower moments are awesome, like when new love shows up, or a job offer comes out of nowhere. Tower moments in life are going to happen.

That being said, when I have a Tower moment appear in my life, sometimes I get pulled off of my bridge between 3D and 5D, pulled back to find myself firmly planted in the physical, staring into the opening of a maze. New learning is about to happen. I don't know where it's going, but I do have a choice. I can either freeze and stand at the entrance forever, until another Tower moment comes along to kick my ass down my path, or I can willingly walk in.

Once in the maze, surrounded by the walls of green leaves, I have found that it can be easy to lose sight of it all. My life. Spirit. The 5D. Sometimes I feel very alone because, ultimately, it is my journey. I have felt resentful. I want nothing more than to not be in the maze, to know where I'm going, and there is a part of me that wants to go back. If I resist, I get another ass whipping to push me down the path. It took me a long time to figure out that there is no other way but forward. Seems obvious, but resistance to change is one of my greatest flaws as a human.

There is a difference between going forward, and going forward in trust. When I was younger, as I moved forward, I focused on the path and the tunnels I was walking through, so much so that I would lose sight of my purpose in my journey.

Now, older and wiser, I realize that my current path is somehow a part of my purpose, and both mean everything to me now. I must move forward in trust. Faith. Something magical happens when I do move with trust. I get drawn back into the 5D. In other words, my spirit helps me to rise to a higher perspective, being that of the spiritual realm. In doing so, my physical self is left in the maze, doing the "do" while my Spirit works through my Higher Self, which shows me the way.

I understand how hard it is not to get caught up in the feelings of being lost and battered and tired in the 3D realm called Life. Believe me, I have suffered and suffered. I have suffered so much that I am motivated to share my hard-earned learning with whomever will listen, helping others suffer less, hopefully.

No matter how broken your heart, no matter how much shame you feel, remember that all of it has purpose. Remember that you have purpose. Remember that you are loved and shepherded, always. Whatever you do, try not to give in to losing sight of the bigger picture . . . do not lose your connection with Spirit. When we stay anchored to our purpose, and Tower moments aren't nearly as scary.

Originally written in the Spring of 2021.