#but like. he could make pottery and just never tried as a skeleton

[toomuchdickfort]

Hey shoutout to Larry and Ki for having little details that I stumbled across on accident that just stuck and became a big part of what comes to mind first when I think of them

[mythicandco]

She isn’t sure why she says it.

Maybe out of pure curiosity - because it’s just the first name that pops into her head, for some reason.

But a name pierces the eerie quiet of the strange in-between dimension, a place that looks like a Demon Realm-style fun house on steroids. Dark liquid lapping against the wildly-twisting, greenish walls is the only sound here other than a human girl’s breathing.

“Philip Wittebane.”

The moment the name leaves her tongue Luz Noceda realizes she should probably check on her mother. Wasn’t that the whole point of this in the first place? But before she gets a chance to correct herself, a cube slowly floats out of the dark liquid around her, as though simply appearing for her is a difficult task. For a few moments it simply hovers there, it’s sides dripping black goo.

Then the side closest to her turns shiny and gold. Her heart rate increasing, the girl moves forward to take it - and then stops. What if it’s just his coffin, or something? Certainly Philip Wittebane would be long dead by now if he’d written his journal back in the 1600s.

But curiosity once again triumphs over doubt and Luz takes the cube in her hands. The worst that could happen is I see a skeleton, she thinks. Big deal. I’ve seen skeletons before.

Unlike the cube that showed her King, Eda, and Hooty, it takes a moment of her holding it for the thing to flash white and transfer her into a reflection. She finds herself holding her breath, and when the cube finally responds to her touch, the girl is caught off-guard and nearly drops it, severing the connection.

Luz is able to hold on, however, and she blinks as things come into focus around her. She is in the reflection of a glass picture frame. It’s holding up some painting of a black spider and a little red bird, she thinks, but her face is so close to the parchment she can’t tell for sure.

She turns her attention to the room around her, and chokes back a gasp at the most notable feature - a large, circular ring with white-and-gold wings splayed at its sides. It vaguely resembles Hunter’s staff, but that isn’t the most worrying part - it’s being constructed around the portal door, which was supposed to be destroyed. Worst of all, it looks nearly completed.

Luz covers her mouth and ducks to the bottom of the reflection as something moves in the dark - an old man with dirty blonde hair, dull blue eyes, and a dark green scar on his face. He’s wearing robes typical of the Emperor’s Coven, but she doesn’t recognize him-

Wait.

Is that Emperor Belos? Without his mask? Luz never thought she’d actually see him like this. He looks... like a sad old man. The girl frowns, but then the impact of what this means hits her full-force and her eyes widen in pure shock. She had said Philip’s name.

“NO,” she says aloud. “NO WAY.”

Belos stiffens and spins around, his eyes narrowing. They dart to his mask, which is laying next to a closed book a few feet away from him. “Who’s there?” he demands. “Spying on the emperor is an offense punishable by death.”

Luz drops the cube out of pure reflex, severing her connection to the castle. It begins to sink back into the goo, but she lets out a yelp and grabs it again.

“No, bad cube,” she scolds. “I still need your help.” Luz loosens her hold on it, but it doesn’t light up again. “Hey, come on, go back to the castle,” she says. “Please?”

The cube doesn’t respond. She shakes it. Still nothing. “Let me see Emperor Belos again! Come on, cube!” But the cube doesn’t listen. Luz grunts in frustration.

“You’re on a mission, Luz. Focus.” Taking a deep breath and closing her eyes, the girl does just that.

“Show me Philip Wittebane.”

It still kind of shocks her that it works; but it does, and Luz finds herself in the reflection of the eye on the door. Staring straight at Emperor Belos.

Both sides let out identical exclamations of surprise, and for the fourth time in the past half an hour, Luz almost drops the godforsaken cube. She hisses “mierda” under her breath before she can stop herself, and is surprised to hear Belos use a profanity of his own that she easily recognizes as from the Human Realm.

The two stare at each other for a moment, and Luz takes another few moments to look at Belos’s face. He really does seem like a sad, old man, even more so up close. His blue eyes have no shine in them, and his hair is in desperate need of a good combing through. She can only see one of his ears, but it’s noticeably smaller than any other witches’ she’s seen so far and has a nick in it, and a disturbing thought occurs to her that she quickly pushes aside.

Heavy bags under his eyes - even more noticeable than the Golden Guard’s - are also present, but the most horrifying part of his face is the strange green scar. Luz doesn’t know what it’s from, but it doesn’t look like anything from the Human Realm.

“Surprised?” she asks, summoning up every ounce of strength that she can. Belos can’t hurt her where she is right now, she’s pretty sure. Even if he destroyed the reflection, it would be destroying the door, and she’s fairly certain that that would only sever the connection again, not actually kill her. He takes a step back with a grimace.

“The Owl Lady’s human pet,” the emperor practically snarls, and Luz flinches. “Guess it was only a matter of time before you tapped into this as well.”

Luz has no idea what he means, but she holds her ground. “Yeah, well, it’s a lot easier when your notes are helping me with it,” she replies. “You are Philip Wittebane, aren’t you?” Her voice trembles for some reason. Now is not the time to get excited about a potentially very dramatic backstory, she mentally tells herself.

Even if you really, really, really want to hear everything about it and take notes.

It’s Belos’ turn to wince, and he reaches for his mask. “You got ahold of my journal?” he asks in a voice that sounds more surprised than resentful.

“It was in the library for a reason,” Luz neglects to mention the paper dragon and the Forbidden Stacks and Amity-

No, Luz. Focus. “But, um, yes.”

A dry laugh escapes the emperor’s throat. “I assumed no one was going to let a human into the Forbidden Stacks.”

Luz blinks, the puzzle pieces in her mind still not quite fitting together. “But if you’re Philip Wittebane, then doesn’t that make you human, too?” She is pretty sure that was right, but with her brain still kind of frazzled by the fact that Philip and Belos were the same person, she might’ve forgotten how the laws of nature worked.

Belos chuckles again, this more sharp and harsh. Luz backs up, but with holding the cube in her hands she doesn’t get any further away from him. He puts the mask on and turns away. “I’m hardly human anymore.”

This is an interesting development. “Ooh, is this like from the Henry Pottery books? If you drink unicorn blood, you’re immortal, but also-”

“This is nothing like that.”

“Oh.” Luz frowns. “Could you tell me what it actually is, then?”

Belos whirls around, uncomfortably close to the door’s reflection. “No.”

Luz let’s out a yelp and the cube shatters in her hands. “Crap,” she says, trying to take the pieces and put them back together. Apparently he did get mad enough to break the door. With a deep inhale, the girl tries to steady herself.

Remember, Luz, she tells herself mentally. You’re on a mission to contact your mom. Worry about what just happened once you tell her what’s going on. She’s still freaking out a little, but the girl breathes a few times and promises herself she’ll look into the Philip-Belos mystery once this is over and taken care of. She opens her eyes again.

“Camila Noceda.”

[keelywolfe]

FIC: The Rose and the Thorn (standalone)

Summary: Everyone in the city has a story of their own but there's one in particular that Rus is very curious about.

Notes: Oh, man, there was a thread on twitter about Mafiatale Edge and Underswap Papyrus, and I needed at least a taste!

Tags: Spicyhoney, Mafia AU, Flower Shop AU, Violence, First Meetings

Read it on AO3

or

Read it here!

~~*~~

If there was one thing Rus learned working in his brother’s shop, aside from how to make a lovely bouquet, it was that everyone in the city had a story. From the fresh-faced kid scraping together enough change to buy a lonely carnation to the grim-faced man handing over his black Amex credit card for the enormous floral arrangement all tied up in a bow. Everyone had their own story and Rus only caught a glimpse of it, from the moment they walked through his door until the time it swung shut again behind him.

He never got to see the end, whether it was a happily ever after or not, but eh, that was the price of doing business. Usually it didn’t bother him, except for one of their regulars and there was no one tale that Rus wondered about more.

A skeleton Monster, like he was, but that was where the similarities ended. To begin with, he towered over Rus and that was not something that happened often. His skull was formed into sharp, angular lines, his teeth as jagged as a sawblade and a crack ran through one of his sockets, bisecting it around a burning crimson eye light.

He probably gave the Humans a bit of a start when they first caught sight of him, but that wasn’t what caught Rus’s curiosity, not at all. Monsters came in all flavors, after all, didn’t bother him any.

No, this guy’s story flowed deeper than that; it was in his clothes, the fine suit he wore that probably cost more money than their little shop made in a day even during prom season. It was the glimpse of a gun holster Rus saw once inside his jacket when their regular patron reached out to take his purchase.

And it was the purchase itself. A single crimson rose to match those eye lights, the cold stem snapped off by the base so he could tuck it into his buttonhole. He paid cash every day and was gone as quick as that, the bell jangling over the door as he walked back out.

There was a story there and Rus wished fiercely he could know what it was. Some days he daydreamed a profession for his mysterious patron. Magician was a popular one or on his more morbid days, funeral director. Secret service would explain the gun, of course, but so could simply living in the city. Guy wearing a suit like that might need a little extra protection.

Wasn't like Rus could ask, he'd already tried that route once. A few weeks ago, he'd gone with the bold approach and asked him out for dinner, then had the chance to regret it when his patron very politely refused. Stupid to even try, what guy in Italian silk wanted to get burgers with a florist shop clerk?

Honestly, Rus figured that was the end of it right there. He'd made their professional relationship a little too personal and Rus figured Mister Nice Suit wouldn't be back.

He'd been pretty surprised to be proven wrong when he came back in the very next day and gotten his usual, a single red rose.

Still, after that Rus stuck with the daydreams and if a couple of them got a little racy, eh, the shop was boring in the afternoons, all right? Not like anyone could read his mind and he kept to the strictly professional whenever their regular came in.

Like now. The bell over the door was one Blue found, an old brass shop bell that he decided offered a much better atmosphere than an electronic chime, a rich jangle that anyone could hear all the way to the refrigerated coolers in the back.

“good morning!” Rus sang out as he always did. He set his broom aside and walked behind the counter where a single rose was already waiting in the front cooler. Yeah, yeah, so what, he went and chose one every morning when he first got in. Blue was always telling him about the importance of customer service.

“Good morning,” their patron replied, and Rus did not allow it to show anywhere above the counter-top at his waist that his knees went to jell-o at the sound of that rich, deep voice. Maybe voice-over actor deserved a spotlight in his daydreams, nothing so crass as a movie trailer ‘in a world!’ guy but reading poetry, letting that buttery voice soak into the pages like on a hot biscuit.

He realized he was standing there staring up at the guy like a moron when their patron politely cleared his throat and hell, even that sounded sexy.

“sorry, um, woolgathering there,” Rus laughed awkwardly. “just the usual, right?”

“Yes, thank you,” Mister Nice Suit reached into the inner pocket of his namesake’s jacket to pull out his wallet

Rus got into the cooler and couldn’t resist taking a quick sniff of the lovely, furled petals. A rose by any other name might smell as sweet, but no roses smelled as lovely as the ones his brother grew.

He turned back to the counter and held it out by the stem, and when his patron took it, his gloved fingers brushed against Rus’s.

“Thank you,” he said again, with gravity that didn’t belong to a simple exchange of goods for cash, but that sent a wave of butterflies through Rus’s soul. His daydreams today were going to be filled with that voice and he was just reaching for the bill when the other skeleton jerked, his head whipping towards the window.

Before Rus could so much as blink, Mister Nice Suit was hopping the counter and pushing Rus down to the floor with him. The tiles were hard on his hands and knees and Rus grunted, and his ‘what the hell’ never made it past a thought as all hell suddenly broke loose.

A deafening explosion of broken glass came from overhead, showering down as pebbles over them and carrying with it the rich smell of loam and potting soil. Dimly, Rus knew he cried out, but he couldn’t hear anything, nothing but the little bangs popping around them. It made him think of firecrackers two days after the fourth of July, shocking in its unexpectedness.

Instinctively, he clung to the sturdy body next to him, burying his face into the broad chest. A strong arm was suddenly around his shoulders, holding him in close as the other skeleton moved and those little popping explosions were suddenly closer, too close. Rus cringed and clung harder, his bony fingers digging into fine linen and silk as he gripped like one of the ivy vines that ran around the wooden beams in the ceiling.

As quickly as it happened, it was over, the sudden silence broken only by the tinny warble of the local radio station that played from Blue’s old radio. The staticky crackled wavered in and out, finally dying out and there was nothing but the echo still ringing through Rus’s skull.

“Are you all right?” The words didn’t quite register through the clamor in his head. What Rus did know was that warm, safe body was trying to pull away from him. He whimpered, clinging tighter and it stopped, settling back down. A large gloved hand settled on the back of his skull even as a low, soothing murmur started up, easing him back until Rus could look up into the face above him.

“Are you all right?” The other skeleton repeated patiently.

“i…yes? i think…maybe…” Rus stammered. The steadying hand on the back of his skull petted soothingly, gloved fingers gentle against bone.

“Give it a moment,” he suggested, “Take a deep breath.” The other skeleton followed his own instruction, taking a breath like a demonstration and any other time it might’ve been humiliating for a gorgeous person to be trying to teach him how to breathe. Today, Rus only obeyed, taking a long, slow breath, distantly noting that Mister Nice Suit wore equally nice cologne. Rus choked as he let that breath back out, abruptly taking in the sight of his brother’s store.

“oh, fuck,” Rus whispered. It looked like a war took a quick tromp through their shop. All the glass cases were busted out, shards littering the floor along with heaps of potting soil and broken pottery from the planters and knickknacks Blue kept around the shop. The bruised perfume of damaged flowers filled the air and even their front door was broken, hanging drunkenly on the hinges, the little brass bell fallen forlornly to the floor with the rest of the wreckage.

Everything his brother worked so hard for, gone, and why? For what, what had even happened?

He turned back to the other skeleton and it was only then that Rus realized that he was holding that gun in his other hand. Gunfire, those explosions were gunfire, his mind supplied him helpfully, someone tried to kill his not-a-magician, not-a-mortician, still-maybe-secret-service rose buyer.

This hadn’t made an appearance in any of his daydreams.

“Who are you?” Rus asked. His voice sounded too small to be his own.

“You can call me Edge,” he replied, which so did not answer the question. “This was my fault, I’m sorry.”

“your fault that people tried to kill you?” That didn’t seem right. Did it?

“No, but it is my fault that it affected your shop. I was too complacent, followed the same routine for too long to see you.” He smiled a little and Rus stared at it, mesmerized. It made him look even better, wow, and he almost missed hearing the other skeleton say, “You don’t wear a name tag, I was hoping if I kept coming in, I’d overhear your name.”

“…what?” Rus blurted, “but you turned me down!”

“I did. To keep something like this from happening.” Sirens were starting to blare in the distance, coming closer as Mister—no, his name was Edge, moved away, tucking that gun away back into its holster. “I’m sorry, I need to go. I’ll handle the damages.”

“wait, but…i don’t understand!” Rus swallowed hard, croaking out, “my name is—”

“Don’t.” A gloved finger settled across his mouth, silencing him. “It would only make it harder to leave. Take care, flower shop boy.” Edge hesitated, then leaned in to brush a kiss across Rus’s mouth.

Then with a swirl of his fine jacket, he was gone.

“what just happened?” Rus asked the empty shop. All that came back was the tinkle of a piece of glass falling and the ever louder sirens. His mouth tingled as if that light kiss had a magic of its own, infusing him with heady warmth.

Rus looked around the shop again and lying amidst spilled potting soil and pottery shards was a long stem rose. His fingers were trembling as he picked it up, the crimson petals bruised and sparkling with a diamond dusting of glass, beauty and danger all in one.

He leaned against the counter weakly, rose in hand, and waited for the police, wondering what the hell he was going to tell Blue.

tbc

Go to chapter 2

[jeannereames]

Where do you think Hephaistion's body was by the end of Alexander's life (Babylon, on his way to Macedon, etc.)? What do you think about the Amphipolis Tomb and its recent link to Hephaistion?

I think Hephaistion was cremated in Babylon, as per Diodoros, et al. I’ve read various attempts to say he wasn’t, based on time required to build the funeral monument, or it was too elaborate—why would Alexander burn something that expensive, etc. Not convinced by these arguments, as they wouldn’t have started on it when he arrived. He no doubt sent word not long after the death, so they’d have had from (probably) early November (by the time news reached Babylon) until sometime in the spring.

As for, “Why burn something that expensive?” Um, have y’all SEEN the amount of wealth Macedonians regularly poured into the ground with their burials? That was their culture. They didn’t build freakin’ huge temples, they built freakin’ expensive TOMBS. And on top of a lot of those tombs, they had cremations, where they burned up (also) a lot of money in grave goods. It was a POTLATCH, meant to honor the dead. You bet Alexander would have built the biggest damn funeral he could imagine for the man he considered his “other self.” Historians need to stop thinking like moderns and think like (ancient) Macedonians.

No source indicates Hephaistion’s body was sent back to Macedon, nor that Alexander intended that. As the new Chilliarch of the empire, he would’ve been stationed in Babylon, so it makes perfect sense for Alexander to hold his funeral there. It’s harder to explain why Alexander would have wanted to send his body (or his ashes, rather) back to Macedonia. He would’ve wanted them near him, in the purported planned capital of his empire. He may (probably did) intend to build a more permanent memorial there, but obviously didn’t live to do so, nor do we hear about it, so we can only suppose.

I have serious qualms about making ANY connection between the Kasta (Amphipolis) Tomb and Hephaistion based on the appearance of an Eta and Phi scratched in a wall (Eph). There’s also an “Anti” there, I believe, the excavator tries to argue means “Antipatros.” (?!)

In any case, the presence of multiple skeletons points to the Kasta Tomb as a family burial. We also have dating issues. The use of blue-colored pebbles in the mosaic suggests a later date than the end of the 4th Century. ALL pebble mosaics from Aigai and Pella dated to the late 4th Century (e.g., very early Hellenistic) do not include blue. They’re nature tones with a more traditional Greek painters’ pallet. Including blue makes me want to down-date that tomb to somewhere in the 3rd century…still well within the range of the use of pebble mosaics.

As for that “mark”—there is absolutely nothing in the historical record stating that he used that as his signature. I would know. I’ve read everything written about him, in all ancient sources. Maybe he did, but there’s nothing to back it up. And there are a *whole* lot of names that start “Eta-Phi” in Greek. I just did an epigraphical study looking at them. Hephaistion is one of the most popular, but far from unique.

Last, that sort of “signature” on something constructed, from pottery to mosaics to statuary…it’s usually a CREATOR’S mark. Like a signature in the corner of a painting. Because Hephaistos was the god of craftsmen, unsurprisingly we find variations on that name (Hephaistodoros, Hephaistos, Hephaistion, Hephaistokles…etc., etc.) among craftsmen. There’s a whole family of potters using Hephaistos from Sinope, spanning a couple hundred years. There are some cases where it might indicate the owner of an object, but those are much smaller objects, like a pot, or a tool, or a caduces, and it appears (usually) in the genitive (Of ___ or ___’s).

In my considered opinion, one of the creators of the Kasta tomb probably had a name that started Eta-phi. That’s all we can safely say, I think.

Were it a cenotaph for Hephaistion, his name would appear OUTSIDE, and there wouldn’t have been a body/bodies in it. (A cenotaph is a memorial that doesn’t contain a body, either because the body was never recovered, or it’s buried elsewhere.) Again, I cannot support arguments that he was never cremated when all our sources suggest he was.

Yet even if we entertain the possibility he wasn’t, it still doesn’t line up to make the Kasta Tomb “his.” Why would what appears to be the “central” figure buried there be a woman in her 60s? (Part of why some wanted to name it Olympias’s Tomb—problems with that too.) The use of Persephone’s abduction is far more often seen in female burials. In fact, I can’t think of a male Macedonian burial with Persephone. Doesn’t mean there isn’t one—especially as new ones periodically pop up—but I can’t think of one. ( @kneelbeforeclefairy? You were just there.)

To make it line up with Hephaistion, too many things have to be “explained away.” I prefer the KISS principle. 😉

If it is a family tomb, as it seems (and as with Lyson and Kallikles), then names might appear inside near niches, but it wouldn’t be an abbreviation. So IMO, the chief excavator is trying really hard to attach her tomb to somebody famous, but using unconvincing evidence.

Given the amount of money poured into it, it was most likely a family tomb for somebody famous, or at least rich, living under the Antipatrids in the 3rd century. I’d go further to say the tomb was initially built for the older woman, then other family members were added to it later.

Who, we may never know at this remove.

That’s the curse of archaeology. Only rarely does what comes out of the ground (convincingly) match up with names in our ancient narratives.

[thornstocutyouwith]

Name: Berit Dagmar Wendi Blackwell or Patient 21213112351212

Meaning of Name: Berit: "gorgeous, splendid, magnificient", Dagmar: "day" "daughter" "mother" "maiden", Wendi: "fair bow; blessed ring; friend"

Nickname(s):  Berry

Age: 25 - 35

Birthday: July 16

Species/Nationality: Mutant, English-European,

Accent: No

Language spoken: English,

Powers:

Dark Fire Manipulation

Weaknesses/Illness/Allergies:  

Pet: No

Occupation:  Patient/Mutant Dog

Faceclaim: Katheryn Winnick

Description:  

Outfit/Accessories/Jewelry:

Height: 5′1

Weight: 112

Body Build: Toned

Backstory/Background:

Past

Berit was born into a decent household. The problems started though when her elder brother started acting strange. He would be out late at night most of the time. Or up at all hours. At just twelve years old, Berit was already the head of most of the others in her grade at school. But her brother’s behavior was concerning her and his habits were disruptive. As she noticed her grades slipping she'd decided enough was enough and eventually confronted him. During this confrontation he revealed to her a blue fire.

Which frightened her, but, before he could put the fire out part of it flew out of his hand and set the sleeve of her shirt on fire. As she tried to put the strange flames out, her own powers came to life, shooting all around the room the two had been in and  her black flames quickly ate away at the room. The next thing Berit knew she was in an institution of some sort, burns on her arms and one side her body. After this, she never saw her brother or the rest of her family again. The people who own the facility she currently works for took care of her from that day on, training her, and making her hunt down criminals or anything they saw fit to meet their ends.

Present

Today, Berit is still working for the facility and under their control. She remains a patient and subject of study for her superiors. But is free to walk the streets virtually free in her own time.

Future

(Work In Progress)

Personality:

Enthusiastic, Youthful, Clever, Directed, Private, Contradictory, Modern, Difficult, Secretive, Strong-willed, Argumentative, Misguided,

Quirks/Savvies/Other: Has no respect for the fourth wall, 

Likes: Jack o'lanterns, Magic wands, Renaissance art, Ballroom dancing, Vinyl records, Skating, Pop stars, Pottery, Shoujo anime, Guinea pigs, Comic books Werewolves, Butterflies, Sheep,

Dislikes: Pigeons, Skeletons, Horror films, Angsty romantic heroes, Modern art, Clownfish, Herbalism, Bowling, 

Fears: Hitting someone while driving, Losing emotional control and lashing out, Becoming too apathetic or indifferent, Claustrophobia

Personality Tests:

Other: Cancer,

Parent(s):

  -> Father: Kerr Blackwell

  -> Mother: Farran Blackwell

Sibling(s): Brant Blackwell,

Starters

Chat’s

Para’s

Face

Stuff

Information

Asks

All

                                                                              Alternate Universes

Pokemon AU

Divergent AU

Hunger Games AU

Storm Coast AU

Planet AU

Harry Potter AU

Zodiac AU

Greek God AU (Harmonia)

Marvel AU

AUs

[arcanelaurels]

I just read your "kravitz and taako meet at a (college?) party and taako's super drunk" fic and loved it. Did you ever/could you ever write a follow up to that scene?

✨Like My Work? Buy Me a Coffee!✨

Part 1

“Hmmmm…”

Taako absentmindedly ran his hand through his hair that hung below him as he dangled upside down halfway off of his bed.

“Hmmmmmm…”

He shook out his hair and sat up, imagining that he probably looked quite glamorous as his hair fell forward to frame his face. He ruffled it a couple times for good measure (despite the fact that no one could see him), then tapped his phone against his chin a couple times. He unlocked it to look at his contacts page. For a few moments, his thumb hovered over the screen in hesitation.

“Ughhh!” He groaned and fell back so he was hanging upside down again. 

It had been three days since he’d gotten sloppily drunk at a party and thrown himself at that (extremely sexy) classmate of his. Three days since Magnus had thoroughly embarrassed him even more than he’d embarrassed himself. Three days since Kravitz had given him his number.

I hope you’ll text me sometime. When you’re sober, that is.

Taako was most definitely sober now. And tomorrow he had his class with Kravitz. It would be a bit awkward to see him in person again without texting him. 

But he just couldn’t fucking do it.

What was he supposed to say? Hey, it’s me. Cha’boy. You know, the guy who basically assaulted you while drunk? Sooo…you wanna go out sometime?

As if.

He groaned again - loudly - and sat back up. He’d spent the past three hours trying to figure out how to text Kravitz. Three hours. That’s more time than he spent on anything other than cooking, primping, or studying (though he wouldn’t admit that last one to anyone but his sister). Three hours of fruitless brainstorming. He absentmindedly ruffled his hair and flipped it a couple times as he glanced around his room, searching for ideas.

His eyes landed on where Kravitz’s jacket was hanging off the back of his chair. Taako grinned as an idea formed in his head.

Kravitz was beginning to regret giving Taako his number.

Three days and zero texts. Either Taako wasn’t as into him as it seemed, or he was too embarrassed about his behavior that night to contact him. But he didn’t really seem like the kind of guy to let embarrassment get in his way. 

He nervously fidgeted with his pencil, rapidly tapping it against his textbook. He’d been trying to study the entire weekend but was too distracted. Why did he give Taako his number? Why didn’t he ask for Taako’s number instead?

No, that wouldn’t have worked. He never would’ve gotten up the nerve to text him. But at least then he would’ve known that the lack of communication was his own fault. This was just agony. 

His thoughts were interrupted by his phone vibrating with a notification. He grabbed it - a bit too eagerly - and saw that he’d gotten a text from an unknown number. Oh gods. Kravitz took a breath before opening the text.

He spluttered a bit when he saw what Taako had sent him. It was a photo - nothing racy, but quite the glamour shot - of Taako wearing the jacket that Kravitz had loaned him. He was biting his lip and had one hand running through his hair in a suggestive pose. Underneath the picture, two more messages appeared.

Unknown Number: i think ill be keeping this bad boy for myselfUnknown Number: looks pretty good on me dontcha think?

Kravitz needed a few moments to process. How the hell was he supposed to respond to that? As he tried to gather his thoughts, he took the time to add Taako’s number to his contacts. After a few more moments, he came up with what he hoped was a sufficient reply. Gods, he hated flirting over text.

     Me: I think you’d look better out of it

It only took a couple moments for Taako to reply, but it was quite possibly the longest few moments of Kravitz’s existence.

Taako: ooo spicy boyTaako: at least buy me dinner first     Me: Is that all it takes?

Kravitz grimaced with immediate regret as he waited for a response.

Taako: listenTaako: you already saw me at that partyTaako: i think any semblance of integrity is already out the window my dude

Kravitz chuckled - nervously - and tapped his fingers on the table as he tried to gather up the courage to send another message.

Taako sat in his bed as he waited for Kravitz’s next text. He pulled his knees up to his chest, hugging the jacket tighter around himself . It was just because it was a really comfy jacket. And he wanted to make sure it smelled like him when he gave it back to Kravitz. It definitely had nothing to do with the crush he had on that guy.

Krav Boy: So do you want to go to dinner, then?

Taako chewed on his lip. He supposed it was his fault for making that dinner joke, but he didn’t know how to tell Kravitz that he didn’t really like any of the restaurants nearby. 

           Me:  ehhh dinners too basicKrav Boy: Do you have better ideas for a second date?           Me: SECOND date????Krav Boy: Yeah, the party was our first date           Me: you got a pretty fuckin wild idea of what constitutes a date my dudeKrav Boy: How so?Krav Boy: We danced, we had a nice conversation, and I dropped you off at your place           Me: i think you mean           Me: i threw myself at you           Me: i overshared about my dumb problems           Me: my “”””friend”””” exposed me           Me: and then you nagged me to drink waterKrav Boy: Forgive me. I won’t refer to it as a date, then

Taako sighed. Who the fuck texted so formally? He was going to have to work with him on that if they ever got past a second date.

Well, depending on what classified as a date.

           Me: you hear about that new place that opened up on campus?Krav Boy: You’ll have to be a bit more specific than thatKrav Boy: I don’t really keep up with campus activities

Taako rolled his eyes. Hopeless.

           Me: its one of those wine and pottery placesKrav Boy: Oh, I’ve never been to one of those. What’s it called?           Me: the chug n squeeze

There were a few moments of silence where there wasn’t even any indication that Kravitz was typing out a response. Taako was starting to wonder what was going on when his phone rang. 

“Hullo?” He asked, sitting up straight.

“The Chug N Squeeze?!” Kravitz’s voice came out in an undignified wheeze of laughter.

Taako couldn’t help but chuckle at the sound of his laugh. “Yeah, my dude.”

“I thought you were pulling my leg but I looked it up and it’s real.”

“Duh, I wouldn’t lie to you.” Taako twirled his hair around one finger. “Why’d you call me?”

“I, uh, I’m not a big fan of texting,” Kravitz said. “And I’m not too good at it.”

Yeah, no kidding. “Ah.”

“So would you like to go to the Chug N Squeeze with me this Friday?”

Ugh. Friday was so far away. But dates on weekdays were never fun. And besides, he’d get to see Kravitz in class before then. “Hell yeah, homie.”

There was a pause where Taako could practically feel Kravitz grin. “It’s a date.”

“Sounds good. Oh,” Taako hesitated, taking a millisecond to have an inner debate about what he wanted to say next. “Make sure to save me a seat tomorrow, kay? You always get to class way before me.”

“O-Oh. Yeah- Yes!” Kravitz stuttered. “I will.”

Couldn’t text or talk, it seemed. Taako smiled to himself. “Alright, see ya then.”

“See you.”

Taako hung up just as Lup burst into his room.

“Hey if I took a skeleton an- What the fuck are you wearing?!” She stopped dead in her tracks with an outright offended look on her face.

Taako felt his face grow hot as he grasped for a response. Kravitz’s jacket was very nice, but it was nowhere near Taako’s style.

“Uhhhh stole it from a guy,” He responded, trying his best to sound nonchalant about it.

She crossed her arms, very clearly not believing it. “And what possessed you to steal that jacket?”

Taako smacked his lips and opened his mouth to answer. “Iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii…” He trailed off, blinking repeatedly as he failed his Deception roll. “Don’t know.”

Her ears perked up as if she’d just realized something. “Did someone give it to you?” She asked, a devious grin on her face.

“No.”

“Liar!” She took a running leap for his bed, landing forcefully enough to make Taako grab the mattress in an attempt to avoid being flung off his own bed. She pulled her legs under herself to sit cross-legged and clasped her hands together, resting her chin on them to give Taako her undivided attention. “Tell me his name!”

Taako wished with every inch of his soul that he could stop his cheeks from burning. “No. fuck you.”

“Taakooooooooo,” Her ears drooped and she pouted. “Pleeeeeeeaaaaasssse!”

“Get out of my room.”

“I’m not leaving till you tell meeeeeeee.”

Taako scowled at his sister, who stared right back with an indignant look. With each passing second, he could feel his willpower being worn down. Fuck.

“Fine! Gods, you win!” He threw his hands in the air and refused to meet Lup’s triumphant gaze. “Asshole. His name’s Kravitz.”

Lup frowned in thought and Taako grimaced as he waited for her to figure out where she’d heard that name before.

Her eyes suddenly widened in realization. “Is that the guy you said you would give-”

“SHUT UP!”

She leaned forward and excitedly drummed on Taako’s knees. “You got a date with that guy?! How? I thought he was, like, way out of your league!”

“Okay, first of all, rude,” Taako’s embarrassment was pushed to the side as he sat up to argue with his sister. “Second of all, I won him over with my charms.”

“So you made out with him while drunk?”

“No!” He said indignantly, crossing his arms.

Lup laughed. “Then what’d you do?”

“I…” Taako trailed off, knowing full well that he did not want to recount the events of that night to his sister. “I mean I did. Sorta. He wouldn’t let me.”

“Ooo, a gentleman?” She sat up straight and put on a posh accent. “This fellow sounds like quite the catch. How does he plan to court you, my dear brother?”

“Gods, you’re so fucking annoying.”

“I love you too!”

[shinobicyrus]

“Familiar Face”

My submission for Phanniemay Day 8: Clones. Surprising myself, instead of Danielle I decided to write a short with my oc Samuel, loosely inspired by kikaiz’s Reverse Trio AU. 

Those first fleeting moments of consciousness as she was spilled out on a cold floor felt less like being born and more like falling into a drugged sleep. A brief moment of lucidity for a life more felt than half-remembered. Crowded halls lined with locker banks, homework, tests, the pressure to fit in and failing, hormones and a quiet heartache. A boy with glasses, a NASA cap, and a goofy-shy smile like a-

She grasped for it and failed, floating through the lab in a fog of numb unreality. Sterile walls, chemical smells in her nose and soakinghher hair, too-bright light blurring away details in a wash of intense white. White walls. White floors. The thin white rubber mat that was her bed. The white leotard that left the pale, white skin of her arms and legs bared and accessible for masked figures in white surgical garb. 

Strapped to an examination table. To a chair that reminded her of the dentist (what does it mean if you dream about going to the dentist? Jaz...someone she knew dabbled in those stupid dream interpretation books)

The inquiries of metal. Little prods and cuts. Needles slipping in and watching her own blood fill a glass syringe; sometimes ruby red, other times viscous and glowing witchlight green.

The tests hurt. She knew that intellectually, but not in that bone-deep, animal panic way. She was numb to it but still hoped it would clear the fog and wake her, but they didn't dig deep enough. She suspected in some back corner of her brain that it had something to do with the things they kept injecting into her, burning numbness through her veins and ink biting into her wrist. The side of her head (shaved recently, but she can’t remember when). Two blocky, jet black digits etched to partner with the crisscrossing red lines on the white canvas of her limbs.  

Mom always said she’d kill me if I got a tatto-

She never felt tired but slept when they told her to- a hope somewhere at the bottom of this well of drugged haze that if she did, she would finally wake up in a home she’d nearly forgotten, back in her room, going downstairs to a cooked breakfast and leaving the dream of the lab on her pillow to dissolve like a broken cobweb.

Sleeping in too late. They were waiting for her. The one with dark dreadlocks and the other with a smile that lit up when he saw the stars. 

Danny?

“Sir, I’m reading unusual theta-wave fluctuations.”

“Adjust the dosage.”

They made their voices clear through the fog with punctuation of scalpel and shocks. She obeyed because the metal was the only time things felt real. 

“Float one meter above the deck. Now, point-five more.”

“Phase your hand through this wall- hold it there. Push it further in.”

“Hold your invisibility and remain perfectly still during the scan.”

“Fire at those targets. Good. Control: increase their speed by thirty percent. I want faster acquisition.”

They were testing her limits. Training her for something. Like in the basement of her mom and dad’s labr-

“Transform.”

“I said do it, Four. Comply.”

I’m...going...ghostly?

(Tucker’s laugh. Maybe we should work on that, Sam.)

Tucker?

“Up the dosage. Twenty milligrams. Just do it.”

Tucker?

A few times she caught sight of a boy she didn’t know in the polished metal of an instrument tray, or in the glass of a window. Young. Short haired. A backwards number four inked into the side of his head. The face floated, ghostlike and unseen, between two men watching her in the window. One in a pristine white white white always white I’m drowning in white suit and dark sunglasses with another man in green fatigues and a chest crowded with ribbons. 

“My God, I have a son that age.”

“Respectfully Colonel, you don’t. Four was decanted less than four months ago. Don’t let it fool you into thinking it’s human.”

“But the briefing said it’s...a hybrid? Half ectoplasm and half human DNA?”

“Humans share seventy percent of their genes with slugs. Mathematically, the menu at a French restaurant is more human than that thing.”

(”Not human, not ghost...” Spectra crooned.)

“Uncle Sam isn’t paying you a hundred million dollars for escargot, Director.”

“No he is not, Colonel. Control: release the specimens.”

A section of the plain white wall slides open and a pack of three creatures float out, swimming in empty air and bombing with swishing tendrils and demented smiles. A lesson enforced at the end of a needle: Class One Malefactors “Oh come on Sam, ectopusses is the perfect name for th-”, circling around the room with the aimlessness of animals set loose in a space larger than they’d been held in.

The intercom crackles. “Four: You are cleared to engage.”

The fight felt so familiar, a moment of lucidity in the violence cutting through the perpetual fog. She flew towards one faster than it expected and punched it hard into the wall, another roared a challenge and charged at her. Instead of dodging she willed herself intangible and let it fly through her, going solid just as it passed so she can grab a bundle of its tentacles, swing it around, and slam it into the third.

They crashed in a confused tangle of babbling shrieks and too-many limbs. She raised a hand a fired a bolt of raw power- splattering the pair into a steaming mess of green goo over the white walls. The first she’d hit launches off the wall towards her, and her intangible feet slipped down through the floor, still leaving of her top-half solid enough to grab the ectopuss Malefactor and slam it on the floor once, twice, and the third time bursting it into a steaming mess. 

The streaks of green ruining the sterile white is satisfying in a way she could not articulate. She thought it was the first time she remembers smiling ever in a long time.

“Well I’ll be damned. That’s one scrappy little slug.”

The intercom again. “Release Subject Two.”

A new section of wall opens behind her. This time with the suggestion of something wrapped in glowing blue chains and a white tarp. A buzzing, electronic click powers down the chains, and the medical tarp reserved for cadavers was shredded by a glowing green skeleton, everything below the ribs missing, save for a pair of upsettingly familiar eyes crammed into two sockets.

“Two. Four. You are cleared to engage.”

They both look at the spot on the wall where the voice came from, then each other. The skeleton moves first, faster without the extra mass slowing it down and more comfortable in the air. It’s voice is a wail echoing in empty bones, slashing wildly with bony talons. 

One slashed across her side, tearing the leotard. Her blood is green today, leftovers glistening on the skeleton's clawtips. It cut through the fog, and she laughed as she dodged the follow-up strikes.

“Come on, dazzle me!”

It’s fast but reckless, vicious but too simplistic. It’s easy as learning combos in Immortal Kombat, her boys groaning as she performs yet another fatality to learn its patterns, catch it by the wrist in the middle of a wide slash, and tear the bony arm out of its socket. 

The bone of its skull had a 02 etched into it in the same font as her tattoo. She learned this because she saw it before her boot crushed it like a piece of old pottery.

“Sir, I think we should halt the test here. We’re showing elevated-”

“If it can’t handle the stress here, it’s not good to us in the field. Release Subject Three.”

At first she’s not sure what she’s seeing. A darting green light that could fit in her palm, darting in erratic patterns that leave little neon trails in the air. It doesn’t wait for an order to attack- she saw nothing but the afterimage of a streak and is hit with a fastball, dense like a dwarf star

“Red dwarfs make up most of the stars in the galaxy” he’d said, laying down on the ground next to her and pointed at the sky. “It’s actually pretty amazing just how rare our sun i-...”

Another hit in the solar plexus drove the wind out of her, it blinks like a firefly, bobbing away lighting-fast and going for her head. 

She lifted her hand and fired a burst of green, wide and imprecise but enough to stun it, she backhands it and it scatters into a dim green mist. 

At first she thought it was over, but the mist still hungin the air, swirling and collecting itself until it formed the shape of a young girl in a lime-green jumpsuit, white haired, green eyed and-

That. That face. 

She knew that face. 

The girl in the mist wavered like a mirage, her face distorted like a funhouse mirror. It hissed wordlessly at her with bulging, mismatched eyes, face sloughing like runny paint. 

There’s no strategy, no clever follow-up. She roared and tackled Three, driving it into the ground with an inhuman shriek.

Whatever flimsy consistency held it together collapses under his fists. Ectoplasm singed his knuckles, each blow molding the creature’s into something blissfully unrecognizable until the shifting, bubbling mass of green- began to reshape itself back into-

“STOP IT STOP IT STOP IT!” 

Straddling on top of it, holding it down and phasing with it whenever it tried to slip away, she kept pounding the notmenotmenotme until the mist condenses into the consistency of abused wax, a vaguely human-shaped puddle of bubbling green. 

“Four! Stand down! That’s an order, Four!”

She shoved away the melted arm that tried to reach for her and saw something in the puddle. Another person looking at her, in the reflection of the puddle of what used to be Three. 

That boy again. Young. Too young. Hair chopped short for the backwards tattoo on the side of his head. His face contorted into disgust and horror and fury.

She punches it again. “YOU.”

Again. “AREN’T.”

“ME.”

Pain explodes in Samuel’s fist and he tumbles backwards, clutching it close and biting back a scream in his teeth even as he lands badly. Blind and in the dark.

A light clicks on and he winces, squinting. Legs kicking, trying to push himself upright with only his feet and elbows. 

“Sammy! Sammy!” 

A pair of hands on his shoulders, steadying him. His eyes adjust enough to see Danny, looking strange and bare without his glasses. “Hey, it’s okay, it’s okay. You’re okay. Just breathe.”

He does his best to follow the advice. He looks around, everything coming back as the last of the haze clears. He’s on the floor in Tucker’s room. It was...it was just a guys’ night: pizza and video games and bad sci-fi movies and talking about thoughts and fears in the safety of the dark. 

Tucker’s standing next to his desk lamp in boxer shorts with cute Lovecraftian monsters on them, blinking owlishly without his contacts. “What’s going on?”

“I...” Samuel looks up and sees a massive crack in the mirror above Tucker’s dresser. A fractured, spiderweb pattern with flecks of green in the center. “I think I was sleepwalking.”

“More like nightmare-punching.” Danny holds out his hand, palm up. “Show me.”

Samuel agrees without thinking, taken off balance by his sudden assertiveness. Danny’s in pajama pants and a hole-ridden Star Trek t-shirt that probably should have been thrown out two years ago. His injured hand is an imitation of a dead spider- curled and twitching. He tries not to jump when Danny’s warm hands take his and turns it over. 

“You’re bleeding.” 

“I’ll be fine. I heal fast.” 

“You should still put it in like...ice or something,” his brow furrows with worry. “Does it hurt?”

“I’ve had worse.” He says, and doesn’t miss the way Danny is looking at the scars on his arm. 

Tucker crouches next to them. Samuel is so crowded by well-meaning concern he is simultaneously chafing under it and willing to do anything to keep them from leaving. “I’m sorry about your mirror.”

He shrugs. “It’ll probably be weeks before either of my parents notice. If they ask I’ll just say I did in like, a fit of hardcore protest against our bullshit appearance-obsessed culture, or something.”

“Does this mean you won’t be wearing make-up, then?” Samuel asks. 

Tucker rolls his eyes and pulls out a black compact from somewhere, which is a feat because he’s still only wearing boxers and it is distracting.”My makeup isn’t to look pretty it’s to rage against the Man, Sammy. Huge dif.”

“Sam?”

Amazingly, Samuel doesn’t wince. “Yeah?”

Danny is still cradling his hurt hand. “Do you want to talk about it?”

From his angle on the floor the mirror is just showing a fractured, broken image of Tucker’s room all thrown in lamplight and midnight shadows. He’s not entirely sure what he’d see if he stood up and looked into it- but he’s grateful that if he had to have a horrible nightmarish flashback, he didn’t do it someplace where the first thing he’d see when he woke up was Samantha’s face. 

“Can we just...stay up for the rest of the night? I don’t really think I can manage sleeping, anymore.”

“Yeah, sure.” Danny smiles at him. “Of course. Anything you want.”

Tucker puts a reassuring hand on Samuel’s shoulder...and using it so he can push himself up and announces. “Welp. In that case, I should probably put on some pants.”

[kaette-kita-slayers]

Slayers Special 3-5 - Currently In Training

I thought I'd go back and cover this one, since it's related to the SFC game. Most of the novel-only characters who join your party in that game have fan or official translations of material related to them, but Claire, as far as I know, is the one exception. So here's her story from Slayers Special!

Currently In Training

"Ooh <3 Hey, you two are traveling sorceresses, right?"

The excessively chirpy greeting had come from a girl with long, black hair. Probably just a little older than I am, she was beautiful, with wide, expressive eyes. Judging by the clothes she wore, she was most likely a sorceress in training.

Lina and Naga are seated at a restaurant, Lina finishing off some cheesecake while Naga downs an enormous stein of vodka. When Lina answers in the affirmative, the girl introduces herself as Claire and asks for their help, ramblingly telling them that she has a difficult paper to write and was looking for a capable sorcerer to help.

Naga warns her that it will be expensive to hire the two of them, as famous, top-class sorceresses. (Annoying Lina, who doesn't want to accept the request, regardless of the pay.) On hearing that they are famous, Claire thinks for a moment, then realizes...

"Wait, could you be... Lina Inverse?!"

"You got it. I'm impressed." My eyes went wide.

"Well, of course. I've heard all about you, and you look exactly like I imagined. I'm a big fan! Can I get your signature later? <3" she said, grasping Naga's hand tightly.

You're a little off there.

"Um, hello...?"

"Oh gosh, I'm so sorry for ignoring you! Lina, is this your assistant?"

"Heh, she certainly is my assistant."

"Yeah, right! Listen, Claire, I'M Lina. That's a bunch of goldfish poop called Naga."

Claire is disappointed that Lina isn't actually the way she imagined her.

"You know, according to the rumors, you can tell just by looking at Lina that she has an awful personality, and she wears pointlessly skimpy clothing, and she has that evil sorceress look, right?"

"Do you seriously expect me to agree with that?!"

"In what way do I look like an evil sorceress?!" Naga spit out the words without the slightest bit of self-awareness.

"Don't get so mad! ... I'm sorry if I offended you. I'm just so honest, I say whatever pops into my head."

Claire goes on to say that she really is a big fan of Lina's, and she especially liked how Lina burned Cruasal City to ash with lighting. Lina angrily protests that no such thing ever happened, and Claire is disappointed.

Not wanting to help a trainee with her schoolwork, Lina lectures Claire, telling her that the real value of a paper is in the work you put into it.

Which really is true. All members of the Sorcerer's Guild are given ranks, and in order to go from "trainee" to "sorcerer", a student has to submit a number of papers and have them approved by their master. After that, depending on accomplishments, they can further raise their rank, which comes with privileges such as being allowed to access more of the guild's library. In Claire's case, she may still be able to get preferential treatment within the guild, but access to esoteric works on magic will be meaningless if she hasn't learned enough to understand them.

Claire tells Lina that she doesn't need help with writing the paper itself; the problem is that her assigned topic is a nearby castle that's rumored to be occupied by a vampire. Lina is surprised, since vampires are the strongest and most intelligent variety of undead, physically and magically far stronger than humans.

Then again, they have plenty of weaknesses, particularly the fact that sunlight reduces them to ash---Lina personally thinks they're kind of wimpy. Naga echoes that sentiment, saying that Claire is a pretty poor sorceress if she's afraid of a vampire. While it's true that Lina or Naga would have nothing to fear, Lina thinks, a vampire would be a tough opponent for a trainee.

Lina disapproves of Claire's master assigning her something so difficult and wonders why. Naga suggests that it must be some kind of harassment, or an attempt to manipulate Claire into something. Claire looks away and tells them that Master Graham has been sexually harassing her, trying to get her to spend the night.

Lina reflects that there are a lot of utter disgraces to the profession who use their teaching positions to take advantage of students, then, if publicly accused, claim it was all just a "trial" for the student to overcome. Angered, she tells Claire she should just start lobbing Flare Arrows whenever that kind of thing happens, and even offers to go give her master a beatdown right away.

Claire turns her offer down, at least until her paper is finished, since she'll be only be accused of resorting to violence to cover up her inability to complete her work. She seems to be expecting (hoping?) that Lina will burn the whole city down.

She says that she'll guide Lina and Naga to the castle tomorrow morning, and Lina reminds her that they never agreed to her request in the first place or discussed a fee. Claire tries to insist that Lina had agreed to help for free, but Lina shoots her down. Claire then gives them an initial payment of all of two copper coins.

"Come on! Who in the world would march into a vampire's lair for that kind of money?!"

"Whaaaaat?! But they say that Lina Inverse would destroy a city for a single copper coin..."

"Who says?"

"Oh, well, I think so... Am I wrong?"

"Completely wrong!"

On hearing what I said, Claire's face fell, and she said, "Aww... that's no fun..."

Protesting that she's only a trainee with no sponsors, Claire next tries to offer six silver coins. Lina and Naga are ready to leave, but Claire stops them by telling them that she's heard the vampire has some kind of treasure. Lina is doubtful, thinking that she'd be better off going after some bandits, since vampires are typically weirdos who hoard useless junk. Claire assures her that this one was originally the human lord of the castle, who became a vampire after developing an obsession with magic.

Lina finally agrees, but Naga reminds her that they've never once managed to profit from these kinds of jobs, because something ridiculous and stupid always happens. Lina realizes she's right, but...

"You said you'd take the job! You can't say 'no' now! If you do... I'll write mean things about you inside some book and leave it in the reference room at the Sorcerer's Guild!"

What are you, a little kid?

"Claire... just curious, do you happen to have a relative named Mina?"

"Yes, one of my cousins... How did you know?"

"Oh... no reason."

The next day, Naga is nowhere to be seen, and Claire, upbeat as ever, leads Lina to a musty, overgrown old castle. Lina is less enthusiastic about the idea of having to explore the entire place from top to bottom.

If we were here on a simple vampire-exterminating expedition, I could just douse him with some oil or something and set it on fire, then have some lunch and enjoy the view, but today, I'm only here to loot the---I mean, help with the paper.

She asks Claire if she's afraid, and Claire replies that as long as she's dealing with some type of undead with a physical presence rather than a ghost, she's fine. (Irrational as it might be, Lina feels the same.) Besides, Lina is there to deal with anything that might attack them.

As they pass through the gate, they are greeted with the sight of countless skulls covering the ground, all the way up to the castle entrance. Claire is somewhat less than frightened.

"THIS IS SO AMAZING! What an incredible view! Looking at this kind of thing makes me feel like my soul's being cleansed, or like I've just come home! <3"

Lina picks up one of the skulls and bashes it into the ground, breaking it. Claire protests, but Lina picks up one of the fragments and shoves it in front of her face, showing her that it's brown on the inside---a fake made from painted pottery. Lina points out that if the vampire had really killed this many people, there would have been a serious effort to eliminate him.

As they continue toward the door, they keep hearing a strange clattering sound, and a dozen or so skeletons assemble themselves from the bones on the ground, all in an instant. Lina easily destroys all of them, and she and Claire enter the main hall of the castle.

Unsurprisingly for a vampire's lair, the windows are all carefully covered up, so Lina casts Lighting. They encounter some Living Mails, but they're no tougher than the skeletons.

"Wow, you really are awesome. They don't call you 'the enemy of all who live' for nothing."

"Who, exactly, uses that nickname for me...?"

"Me me me! <3 I came up with 'the world destroyer' too, and I made sure everybody knows about it. <3"

"Please just stop... or at least don't say anything to other people..."

I wonder... Could my bad reputation all be the result of her spreading rumors...?

They are interrupted by a male voice coming from directly above them, but before Lina can even look up, the air fills with countless small explosions. As the smoke clears, a familiar laugh rings out, and Naga appears, surprised to see that the intruder she's after is Lina.

Behind Lina, Claire mutters to herself, calling Naga a "traitor" and an "old lady", which Naga naturally takes exception to. Naga protests that she'd only accepted a request to protect the castle from intruders, when the man showed up at her room the night before. (Said "man" is hanging upside down from the chandelier like a bat, very clearly a vampire---to anyone who isn't Naga.)

"Look, Naga, I don't know how much he paid you, but..."

"Fifty gold coins up front."

"Fif---?!" I cried out unintentionally, then without any hesitation, I turned around to face Claire and said, "Heh, heh, heh... You fell for our trap, Claire."

"Don't betray me!"

... Oh well, so much for that...

Lina demands to know how the vampire found out about their plans, and he reveals that he had a spy at the inn they stayed at. Lina and Naga start firing spells at one another, but when Lina refers to the man a "vampire", Naga appears shocked.

"It can't be---you're a vampire?!"

Oh, come on.

"What...? Yes, of course I am..." the man replied, with a confused expression.

"Oh, no... So you tricked me, then?!"

"'Tricked'...? I wasn't trying to..."

"Don't even try to give me some shameful excuse! Did you ever once say to me that you were a vampire?!"

"That doesn't matter! Normally, if you saw a bat turn into a person right in front of you, you'd at least figure out, 'Oh hey, that's a vampire'!"

"I wouldn't! I just thought you were a little strange!"

Lina forcibly ends the conversation with a Hell Blast, annihilating the vampire, thinking to herself that Naga might make you miserable as a friend, but there's nobody more fun to have as an enemy.

As the group prepares to look around the castle, a group of about a dozen vampires appear from the shadows. Lina is shocked, but Claire is unfazed.

"Huh? Didn't I tell you there's not just one vampire in the castle?"

The vampires attack, and Lina yells to the others to retreat. They're at a severe disadvantage against so many opponents, and Lina can't use any big spells like Dragon Slave unless she wants to bring down the castle and crush everyone.

Hearing Lina, one of the vampires blocks the door and fires off a number of Flare Arrows, which Naga blocks with a wind barrier. The rest of the vampires begin chanting spells, and Lina quickly begins casting Vu Vraimer. Naga yells at her, since a golem isn't going to be much use for fighting vampires, but that isn't Lina's plan.

In order to form the golem, the spell draws stone from the walls, splitting them open and letting sunlight stream in, killing the vampires and creating an escape route all at once.

"Just what I'd expect from you, Lina!" Claire cried out in admiration.

"Hmph. I'm not like Naga."

"But I was kiiinda hoping you'd do something a little more showy to slaughter them all."

"Request granted! One Dragon Slave, coming up!"

"Ooooh!" Claire said, applauding.

Lina demolishes the castle with Claire egging her on, the paper entirely forgotten until it's too late. Not having any other options, Claire accepts Lina's earlier offer to beat up her master.

Lina ends up hiding behind a tree outside Graham's house, waiting for Claire's signal to rush in, accuse him of everything he's done, and beat him to a pulp. (Naga had wanted to help, but Lina felt the fewer people involved, the better.) She can hear the two arguing inside, beyond the terrace window, and then Claire yells at the top of her lungs, the signal Lina was waiting for.

Lina casts Diem Wind, forcing the window open, and makes a dramatic entrance, leaping with a flourish to land in front of the window. She stops short once she sees who's inside---Claire, of course, but also a silver-haired, twenty-something woman.

Claire introduces Lina as the one who destroyed the castle, and confirms to a bewildered Lina that the husky-voiced woman really is "Master Graham". Graham wastes no time trying to seduce Lina, who turns and literally runs, leaving Claire behind.

Notes

Mina is from the story "Villain Fight" in volume 1. She's a self-centered and rebellious priestess who keeps a literal diary of all her grievances, complete with (terrible) illustrations. She also appears in the SFC Slayers game, where her diary functions as your save system.

[carrieautumn-blog1]

October Prompts: 14

Cutting it close to the wire with today’s upload! 11:38pm but I made it. I was tired and napped half the day. I was afraid I wouldn’t make it. If you are looking for october writing prompts follow this link:

https://carrieautumn.tumblr.com/post/165918058845/october-writing-prompts

Pumpkins

Helena trudged over the hill, her wounded feet stumbled and threatened to send her tumbling. She had fled into the Wilds knowing that little grew in the poisonous swamps that was edible, or that wouldn’t try to eat her back. She hoped the dangers would keep those who hunted her from following too deeply. She was right, but now the sun was falling on her third day without food. She had managed to suck rainwater from the large leaves that hung like green banners from the trees; but hiding from the beasts that roamed the sweating marshes, covering herself with mud to keep the bugs off her, and looking for any sign that would tell her that she was not just walking in circles had returned her thirst with a vengeance. The young noble tried to follow the sun, but the trees grew thick, narrow and the sucking swamps filled with crocodiles forced her to double back more than once.

So when she came to the pumpkin patch stretching over miles of farmland, she couldn’t help herself. She thought it might be an illusion at first, but as she climbed over the fence she found the army of orange heads to be solid. Finding the largest gourd she could carry, Helena smashed it over a jutting rock and began to devour the innards, seeds and all. She ate until she could vomit, and fell asleep among the rows of orange, exhausted.

A man in a dark cloak cast his shadow over the sleeping Helena who lay curled up in her torn finery, dirt, and pumpkin guts. He tapped his bone white cane against the ground, the sound it produced was loud and made the earth sound hollow. The girl woke, and before she took a second glance at the man she was crawling backward over the large vines. The man did not pursue, instead the green curling stems wrapped around her ankles and calves holding her down. She screamed and begged, clawing at the ground and her bindings trying to get free.

“What do you fear, child?” The man asked removing a handkerchief from inside his long cloak. “Dry your tears.” She took it hesitantly but did not use it.

“Please don’t hurt me.” She begged.

“Why would I do such a thing, who is hunting you?” He asked again, but she stayed silent as more fat tears fell over her cheeks.  He moved a piece of destroyed pumpkin over with his cane. “This is my field you know.” Her eyes went wide again.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I was just so hungry. Please I have nothing to pay you, but I’ll leave. You’ll never see me again.”

“Now, I can’t in very good conscious allow that.” The woman began to plead again, but he waved a hand, clarifying; “You are filthy, exhausted and wandering around a very dangerous place. Do you even know where you are going?” She said nothing again as the vines began to loosen from around her limbs. “You’re lucky I found you, had you crossed over my land you would have entered my neighbor’s territory. He does not take kindly to visitors. Come, come,” He offered a gloved hand, lifting the girl up. She lagged behind him, but was wise enough not to run.

Sitting atop a thick lattice of stilts was a large hut that was surrounded by western bell charms, Helena realized that she was correct in her assumption that this man practiced witchery. She thought of running again, eyeing the waiting crocodiles who lined the bend that wrapped around the hut; instead she kept her eyes down and followed the man. Inside the hut were more oddities, but none were the skeletons or a bubbling cauldron of goo she had been expecting. Instead it seemed like a collection of trinkets. A Verize telescope, a Haastri wall knitting, Pyo pottery and cookware. Other than the additional bell charms hanging from the wall, dangling uncomfortable close to her head, she saw no sign that the man was anything other than an eccentric traveler. He offered her a seat, and she sat while avoiding eye contact. Immediately the man began to move about the kitchen grabbing an assortment of cooking utensils and spices both fresh and powdered.

Yet, instead of using a stove or fire, the man carved open a large pumpkin she hadn’t seen him carry in and shoved handfuls of spices inside. He stirred vigorously with a whisk, commenting on how good his harvest was looking this year. He shoved bay leaves, chopped potatoes and a lit match into the pumpkin before replacing its lid and shaking it. Then he sat the pumpkin down on the counter, “Let that simmer a bit,” he said before sitting next to her. Oh he was crazy, Helena thought. She tried to feign a smile, but instead her lip just trembled in an awkward way that made her bare her teeth. Soon after a few moments of staring at each other the man opened the pumpkin and ladled out what looked like a beef stew, though he had put no meat into the pumpkin. It steamed with a alluring aroma as he filled a small bowl before handing it to Helena with a cup of water.

“Here, best way to get to know someone is over bread.” He cracked a large bread loaf, in a shape she had never seen before, in half and gave her a slice larger than her head. “Go on, go on. I’m rather proud of my cooking skills.” The girl spooned some of the soup into her mouth and had devoured half the bowl before looking up again. The forgotten man smiled at the woman.

“My name is Henwae. I’m pleased to have a visitor who has near about the same amount of teeth as I have. The crocodiles aren’t much for chatter.” The girl felt her instincts beginning to kick in, she sat taller and silently cleared her throat to speak, but no words left past her teeth. “You don’t have anything to fear, I don’t feed my guests only to betray their confidence. It’s nice to have company.” The man suddenly seemed very lonely, as both hands rested on his decorative cane that reminded her of the ice sculptures around the palace during the winter. Her voice trembled, “I’m Helena. You have my most humble thanks for all you have done for me. I apologize for stealing your property.”

“Consider it behind us, but I’d like to know what has happened that the Duchess of Seveud is running about the Wilds all on her own. I’m surprised you made it this far.” Helena looked away, tears threatening to build in her eyes again, somehow unsurprised that he knew who she was. She tried to use a commanding voice.

“The Capital has been stormed. Sevued is under attack, the Costa Laver have overrun the Kingdom. Most of the cities are in flames and the members of the Great Houses hang in the great hall. I escaped before they could harm me, I managed to lose them at the edge of the Wilds. Cowards.” She thought of the faces of her family and of the people on the street and the face of the men who harmed them.

“That saddens me greatly. I’m sorry that such sorrow follows you. I’ve seen many a country burn in my time, and it is never an example humanity’s greatness. What can I do to help?”

“Unless you can kill an entire Costa Laver army, and raise the dead, I don’t think think there is anything to be done.”

“Well no, but perhaps there is a smaller task, more personable that I can help you with.” She thought on it, the bell charms swaying softly with rings she could not hear.

“There is a general who leads them. He ordered the attack under his King. He showed no mercy to the children or women of the city, even after my Uncle had laid down his sword in askance. Such is an evil and vile breech of tradition. Unforgivable. Yet, it seems that men such as the Grand General do not have to pay for such crimes.”

“I see and what would you do, what would you give, to see this man brought to justice?”

“Anything.” She shook but not from fear.

“Then I shall make it so, there is a man far from here. You will find him on the other side of the Wilds in Mogdell. He is known as Yem the Lavender Blood. He will give you what you need. I will take you the edge of the Wilds but can go no farther.”

“Why would you do all this to help me?”

“I’m just being a courteous host. Isn’t natural that when someone comes to us in need of help that we give what we can provide?”

“Not to some.”

“Well let us raise our glasses for being some others!” He cheered drinking down the water.

“If you are so lonely why are you out here all on your own?” He seemed much too kind and personable to enjoy the life of a hermit, the contents of his home seemed to agree.

“Ah, that is an old tale, I’m not sure is worth telling.”

“You’ve heard mine, I’d be remiss not to hear.” Henwae thought on that for a while.

“Long ago I was cursed by another Wizard. It was strong magic, magic I can never hope to break. I’m cursed to remain in the Wilds where no one goes, until I can stand here and in the North at the same time I will not be released. I’ve tired everything I can think of, but without being able to leave there is little I can do.”

“Perhaps I can help, to repay you.”

“No, I think you have your own path to follow.”

“Please, with what little power I have as a member of the royal line of Seveud.” He thought for a moment before reaching into his robe and pulling out a pumpkin seed.

“If your journey takes you North, plant this.”

“I swear it. Thank you.” The woman placed the seed in a pouch he offered her filled with provisions she would need. More kindness she felt desperate to repay. He allowed her to wash, change into spare clothes and rest for the night. When morning came he was ready to escort as he had promised. He warned her that while he would protect her the Wilds were dangerous and she should stay quiet and close. “My neighbor will likely be the most troublesome part.”

“You don’t seem to keep his company often even thought it’s just the two of you.”

“No, as I said, he does not like visitors. He chose the wilds for what grows here, there is dark magic that rests in these lands. As a practitioner of the dark arts this is the only place he can call home without fellow wizards or wary rulers hunting him down.” Helena had a thought.

“He isn’t the dark wizard Del, is he?” The same wizard who had razed who kingdoms in his wrath. The one whose name was used to keep children in bed past their bedtime.

“Yes, the very same.” Helena felt her feet stop moving. “Don’t worry if he finds us, I can probably reason with him. Most likely nothing will happen. Probably.”

“Oh good.” Helena said failing to sound positive or confident, but she would son learn there was another wizard’s name people should fear, and that name was Henwae.”    

[satyr-syd]

Title: roots that twine together Chapter: 3/7 silverthorn and gold Author/Authors: @satyr-syd Day/Prompt: 3/Model/Photographer ~ Wings/Fly (@bokuakaweek​) Rating: G Warnings: None Side Pairings: None Summary: Akaashi Keiji knows the natural world better than anyone in his village. That is, until Bokuto Koutarou, a boy with mysterious powers over plants, makes him question everything he thought he knew.

Akaashi and Bokuto help out a feathered friend.

Read on AO3

Akaashi believes the rice paddies are most beautiful in the morning. The sun reflects off the flooded field, turning murky water gold. Straight green stalks in perfect lines peek out from the water, stretching as far as the eye can see, the pattern broken only by the occasional water duct. In the distance, hills and then mountains sprawl along the horizon, blurred by morning mist and glare from the sun. The never-ending drone of cicadas complements the never-ending rows of the field. The rice stalks sway in the wind, creating tiny rings of water that grow bigger as they float further out. The rice they harvest from here is their main source of food. The paddies require a fair amount of work to tend to, but it leaves them with enough time to do other jobs. But now that harvest season is upon them, the villagers devote most of their attention to the crops.

Akaashi and Bokuto walk around the perimeter of the paddy. After a year’s worth of training, Yamiji trusts him to walk around the field to ensure the stalks grow healthily.

“Hey ‘Kaashi. I bet I could run across the whole field and back before you count to thirty.”

Akaashi doesn’t trust Yamiji’s judgement. “Please do not, Bokuto-san.”

Bokuto smiles at him, and flicks his arm. “I told you, you can drop the -san.”

Akaashi flicks him back. “You are my senior. And Yamiji-sensei’s apprentice. You deserve my respect.”

“Yeah, but we’re friends.” Akaashi’s heart skips a beat when Bokuto calls them friends. He knows they are, but this is the first time Bokuto has said it aloud. It's kind of...nice. “We should have cool nicknames for each other! Maybe I should call you Akaashi-chan. Aka-chan. How does that sound, Aka-chan?”

“If you call me that one more time, I will never talk to you again.”

Bokuto giggles. “Okay, Akaashi-kun.”

“Don’t call me that either.”

Bokuto hums. “How about Keiji, then?”

The name emerged from Bokuto’s lips like a gift wrapped neatly in fine rice paper, small and whole, and handled with grace befitting of royalty. He held the name out to him with hands made of sincerity and warmth. The offering sparks explosions in his stomach that set his cheeks aflame.

He hasn’t heard anyone say his first name like that in years. Since the last time he heard his mother’s voice.

He looks away to hide his blush. “Just Akaashi,” he says firmly. He doesn’t understand why he feels as deeply as he does about a simple name. But he doesn’t think any mere ‘friend’ could have that effect on him.

“Well, Just Akaashi, that’s too boring! We need - ” Bokuto stops, his expression suddenly serious. He looks into the woods, opposite the paddy. “What was that?”

Akaashi frowns. He stops walking and listens, trying to figure out what Bokuto had heard.

This time he hears it. A rustling in the bushes. They both turn towards the noise. It sounds again, and this time they see a silverthorn bush a few meters away move.

Bokuto dashes around to the other side of the bush. Akaashi hurries to catch up to him, but Bokuto’s already calling out, “Akaashi! Akaashi we need to help it!”

There, tangled in the bush, is an egret. Strong white wings, splayed wide, shudder against the viney restraints. Thin black legs kick dirt up from the ground. A long, thin, yellow beak opens and closes in agony. Eyes, opened wide, spell out fear.

“It’s okay, ‘kaashi, I got this,” Bokuto says. He pushes up his sleeves, rubs his hands together, and points them at the plant.

The bush grows and grows and grows, messy and wild. The silverthorn reaches out and grabs the bird even tighter, its branches like fingers strangling its neck, leaves like nails digging into its feathers.

“Stop, Bokuto-san - you’re making it worse - ”

The egret cries out, and Bokuto lowers his hands.

“Oh no. Oh no oh no…”

“I’ll try untangling it. You stay there.”

Bokuto reaches out, opening his mouth in protest. But Akaashi gives him a look, and his hand drops. He falls back on his heels in submission. “...okay.”

Akaashi tries a hand at freeing the egret. Working around the bird is difficult: it’s nearly a meter tall, with strong wings that beat against the bush and a sharp beak swinging in panic. Not to mention the annoying leaves of the silverthorn - edged with spiky ridges - poke his hands and cling to the bird’s feathers. He swears their points grew sharper than natural when Bokuto messed with them. The task is made even more difficult by the sheer density of leaves and branches encapsulating both him and the bird.

“I only make things worse,” Bokuto moans.

Akaashi bites his tongue to keep from saying, Yes, you have. “That’s not true,” he recites, tugging another leaf free from the bird’s wing. He reaches up, scratching his hand as he avoids the egret’s beak, and grabs a branch chaining the egret’s neck.

“Yes it is. You don’t have to lie to me, Akaashi. I know that the villagers think I’m stupid, that I’m a waste of space. They’re right. I can’t do anything.”

As Akaashi opens his mouth to reassure him, the branch he’s holding snaps between his fingers. He looks down. The branches are shrinking, growing thin, turning a chalky brown. The leaves dry up until they're paper thin, suffocating and drooping. The tiny fruits shrivel up. The plant is slowly, steadily, wilting.

Akaashi knew Bokuto’s moods influenced the state of the nature around him. When Bokuto was happy, the plants around him would shoot towards the sky. When he was nervous, they would fall against the ground. When he was angry, they would twist and multiply and grow wild. But he had never seen it act like this before, completely shrivel up and wilt.

Seeing this plant die before his eyes is absolutely terrifying. It’s unnatural. Or rather, it’s the most natural thing of all.

But the dead plant is much easier to maneuver than the live, healthy one. Akaashi tells himself not to panic, and pushes down the once-stubborn branches with shaking hands. He rips out a root wrapped around the egret’s leg and the bird is finally free. It leaps out of the bush, fluffing its feathers.

“Look, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi urges.

“I don’t want to look at my failure.”

“You didn’t fail. Look.”

Bokuto looks up just as the egret squawks in gratitude. Not wasting a moment, it spreads its wings and takes to the skies.

Bokuto rubs his eyes clear and looks again. They watch the egret as it flies away, a white dot in the bright blue sky, shrinking smaller and smaller until it finally disappears.

Bokuto continues staring up in disbelief. Yet his pupils reflect the hopefulness of the cloudless sky. “How did…”

Akaashi tugs his sleeve and points to the bush. It’s shrunken into a mere, browned skeleton, a corpse in contrast with the greenery surrounding it. “The branches weakened enough for me to pull it free,” he explains.

“Oh…I guess that means I did it,” Bokuto says. He turns to Akaashi and smiles. “I saved him! Hey hey hey, I’m pretty awesome, aren’t I?”

Though Akaashi is in awe of Bokuto’s power, he’s not sure if it’s from admiration or fear. “You did kill that poor silverthorn.”

“Agaashi! I saved the bird, that’s what’s important, right?”

“You shouldn’t have to sacrifice the plant to do it,” Akaashi says. Bokuto’s head dips, his excitement waning. Sparing his friend a little mercy, he adds, “But your magic was focused on that single plant, which is impressive.”

“It was, wasn’t it?” Bokuto says, a smile coming back on his lips. “I’m going to do even better next time, just wait!”

“The next time we happen to run into a trapped animal?”

“Akaashi! You know what I mean!”

As they head back to the rice paddy, Akaashi glances back behind him at the dead silverthorn.

But it doesn’t look dead anymore. To his surprise, the silverthorn’s leaves already look green again. Green turned to brown turned green once again.

It's absolutely terrifying.

Bokuto doesn’t talk for a long time after they free the egret.

Akaashi isn’t use to long stretches of silence around Bokuto. It was nice, but it was unusual. “Are you alright, Bokuto-san?” he asks tentatively.

“Yeah,” he says with a weak smile. “Well, kinda. I’m glad we saved the bird, it’s just…” The grin on his face wavers like a leafless branch in the wind until it breaks off completely.

“It’s not a one way thing, you know!” Bokuto blurts. “Since my moods influence how much the plants around me grow, when I get bad…you saw.”

They die. Just thinking about it sends Akaashi’s blood cold. Akaashi has never feared Bokuto’s power before, but realizing the destruction he’s capable of makes him a little more wary of his friend.

Bokuto drops to the ground, flinging himself onto his back on a patch of long grass at the edge of the flooded field. His hands clench into fists and he buries them against his eyes, crying out in frustration. “I still can’t control it - it’s so frustrating! It’s like - it’s like your pottery wheel. When I try to make plants grow, it’s like I’m trying to shape the clay, and that’s already really hard and stuff, because sometimes the clay has, like, a mind of its own and it’ll do things you don’t want to, but it’s even worse ‘cause I don’t even have control of the wheel! Sometime’s it’s going way too fast and I can’t even contain the plants - clay - you know what I mean - and sometimes it spins too slow and it comes out awkward and deformed, and sometimes I can’t even control it at all.”

Akaashi imagines Bokuto at the pottery wheel, vines growing around the base and clutching onto the edge of the circle, wrapping around his ankles and his legs, petals growing out his throat. It’s much harder to be afraid when he can see the burden weighing Bokuto down.

Akaashi sits down next to him. He scoots closer next to Bokuto, until his shin touches Bokuto’s thigh. The touch, the warmth emanating from Bokuto’s skin, reminds him that Bokuto is just like him. He’s been blessed with a power of the gods, but he still messes up, he still struggles, because he’s human.

In a way, it’s comforting. Akaashi always imagined Bokuto’s power as perfect, as infallible. As something completely beyond Akaashi’s reach, something to be jealous of. But now, Akaashi realizes this power comes with a responsibility not unlike Akaashi’s own. It’s not all-powerful, and it’s not something to fear - it’s simply something that is.

“It’s just. I don’t even know how I’m going to learn it all.” Bokuto drops his hands to his slide, unclenching his fists so his palms face towards the sky.

“Do you know how long it took me to learn everything I know about pottery?” Akaashi asks him.

Bokuto shakes his head.

“Seven years. I’ve been doing it for seven years,” he tells him.

“Woah. That’s...a long time.”

Akaashi smiles. “Yes, it is. But when I first started, I was just like you described. I messed up pot after pot. The sides were uneven. The base was too thick, or too thin. Sometimes I reused a lump of clay so much it dried out and was useless. But I practiced, and practiced, and I got better. It just takes time, and effort. You’ll get there.”

The moment he’s finished speaking, he’s engulfed in Bokuto’s tight hug. Bokuto squeezes his shoulders, chin tucked over his shoulder, and Akaashi, once the shock has worn off, squeezes him back.

“Thanks, Akaashi. You always know just what to say.” Bokuto lets out a breath, and lets go. When he pulls back, he’s smiling at Akaashi, looking at him with those golden eyes. Looking in the way that the sun looks down at the fields of crops, the way the stars look down on sleeping people on the ground - past his exterior, straight to his soul, to his very core. His breath catches in his throat. He wants to look away, but he can’t, his gaze and his heart caught in a golden prison that reminds him of home.

Finally, Bokuto blinks, and Akaashi’s free. He's not sure if he's happy or sad or something else entirely.

He looks away, while Bokuto says, “Man...I wish I could stay here forever.”

Bokuto’s told him before, how after his training, Yamiji suggested he wander between villages, helping the people with his abilities. How after this was all over, once he mastered his own pottery wheel, he was destined to life as a charitable wanderer. Bokuto had sounded excited about it before. “At least you get to spread your wings,” Akaashi says.

Bokuto shrugs. “Yeah, but it’ll be lonely. I like having a place to stay. I like living here.”

Akaashi grits his teeth. “That’s good.”

Bokuto furrows his eyebrows. “Do you...not?”

Akaashi isn’t exactly an open book, so he’s surprised Bokuto could read him so well. “I do. But sometimes, I wish I could escape it all.”

“Well, why do you have to stay?”

He thinks of dead plants, dry throats, mirages on the horizon as a poor replacement for water in the river. Of the dead bush Bokuto left in his wake. Of his mother, and his promise.

I can never let that summer happen again.

“I have a duty to my father and the village. I have a place here,” Akaashi explains. “They need me.”

“Oh...”

The sit in silence for another moment.

“Let’s head home, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi says. “You’ve done enough good work today.” He stands up, and offers Bokuto his hand.

“Okay!” With a wide, toothy smile, Bokuto takes it, and they start heading home.

“And I told you, you don’t have to add the -san!”

“I won’t. Bokuto-san.”

“Akaasheeee!”

[gcs2017-blog]

Journal Entry #7: Pilsen

First off, this trip had me super excited. This time around for our last trip, we went to Pilsen! I took a trip to Pilsen a while ago in my journey to find a dollar store. This time around we were looking for more than just dollar store deals.

First off, we hopped onto the 29 Bus going along state street then the 21-bus going along Cermak to even get to Pilsen. We set our map to the most important place to go in Pilsen: Xurro! (2214 S. Wolcott Ave) Also, known as the Churro Factory, we stumbled upon a second location in Pilsen near the pink line. I was hungry ant at 9 in the morning, I was thinking that maybe a churro would be better than actual food. The location we went to was a small shop with 3 little tables We were greeted by an older Hispanic woman. Having had churros before I already knew what I was in for. But I tried my churro filled with cream cheese this time around and it was heavenly. And the price! It was only $1.50! For the same sized churro, I remember paying 5 dollars and it didn’t even taste good. I also got some horchata to drink. Horchata is a sweetened drink made with rice. A Venezuelan friend of mine had me try it a few years back. It’s probably the only thing I could drink every day and never tire of it. And the one they had at Xurro was just as good. Yummy!

With our sweets devoured we headed back out to the streets of Pilsen. There was a church that we passed on our way to Xurro. As we walked to the church, we passed by street cart selling some sort of deliciously smelling food. Several people were near making purchases. The weather was nice but still chilly but the food seller probably had bills to pay and the people were willing to come outside to get food. The way the cart was positioned on the street, it was hard to find a way to approach the cart to peek at what he was selling without seeming interested in buying some of the food. So we decided to keep on our way to the church. We visited St. Paul Catholic Church( 2127 W 22nd Pl). Founded in 1876 to serve 40 German families, St. Paul now serves a large Hispanic population even having service in both English and Spanish. In fact, when we first approached the massive structure that was the church we tried to go inside through the front doors but they were locked on the sign on the door was completely in Spanish. Thankfully 6 years in Spanish hadn’t failed me and I understood it to mean that we needed to enter and exit from the doors along 22nd street. We walked in and it looked as if a dance class or some sort of exercise class had just ended. There were women chatting away in Spanish, wiping away sweat from their foreheads as their daughters ran around chasing one another. The inside of the church on the lower level has mostly stone walls. They were beautiful to me since that is not something I have seen before. After finding the stairs to the first floor, if I thought that the stone walls in the basement, the church itself took my breath away. 

It was so beautiful and so peaceful and although I am a Muslim I could just feel the work that went into the church in the name of God. The sanctity and piety in the space was evident so much so it rendered us quiet. We whispered as we walked through taking pictures. The one thing that stood out amongst the beauty was that all the statues were covered in purple cloth. 

 Upon further research, it seems that this is in observance of Lent. It is a way for Christians to long for Easter Sunday. It is to alert Christians of the special time that they are in and to focus on the words being said during Mass. At the time, I figured it was for a special reason. In lobby, we were graced by more stained glass windows. All the signs for parish activities in the lobby and the information packets were also in both Spanish and English. It was a church that suited the community.

As we continued along, we saw a lot of lavanderias and panaderias and carnerias, different shops in Spanish. We saw more of those than we did commercial shops. There were also plenty of taquerias that looked oh so tempting.

We also saw a lot of murals. Each unique none the same but the same goal was there: To celebrate the Hispanic culture of Pilsen. 

A lot of the murals contained ancient references that remined me of when I studied about Aztec and Mayan culture. There were murals with Frida Kahlo, a famous female Mexican painter, there was one that had several different languages displayed and a quote. 

There was one at the Damen train stop that celebrated different aspects of Pilsen and people in the community. 

We saw ones that celebrated Mexican woman and Mexican men. The women were in traditional dresses and the men were dressed in the clothes of rancheros. 

There was reference to birds in a few of the murals.

 I vaguely remember birds having a significance in the Aztec Mayan culture. There were many murals with the Virgin of Guadalupe or other religious symbols.

 One of the murals has Jesus depicted. All the murals represented the culture of the Mexican community, colorful displays of their history, their heroes, their faith, and their people. It was beautiful. And the murals are everywhere. On the sides of buildings and on stairs and in alleys and on schools. There were mosaics all along the façade of the Jose Clemente Orozco Community Academy.

They were very beautiful and since they were mosaics, it must have taken a long time to make them. In a way, the mosaics and the murals remind me of the churches in that they are so detailed and so intricately drawn or made and so beautiful because just like God and creating a special house for Him is important to those decorating a church, the celebration of Mexican culture is important to Pilsen and that is why it is so beautifully covered in murals and mosaics to celebrate what is so important to them: the aspects that make up their diverse and unique culture.

We decided to head over to the National Museum of Mexican art and as we walked past the school we saw something written on a board in the garden next to the school. It said, “Pilsen is not for sale”. I immediately thought of gentrification, how the city comes in and by us neighborhood after neighborhood building them into more places for the affluent to live and play because the previous tenants can no longer afford to live there. And I just felt that this simple writing embodied the ideas of the people of Pilsen, that they were here and they would stay.

We finally arrived at the Museum. Entry was free and there were 3 exhibits available for us to see. We all know that art is a way of expressing who someone or something is and that is what I saw at the museum. I saw art that include corn and insects like the grasshopper and scorpions. A colorful quilt depicting children and the sun and Aztec symbolism. Statues from ancient times, pottery painted with intricate designs, statues celebrating Día de Los Muertos. There were paintings that had horses, different people doing everyday things and political art with the sign to the gallery saying “Galeria sin Fronteras” or Gallery without borders. The political art was the best for me. 

There was a 3D one that was cool. When you walked in, you saw a skeleton dressed up like he had been out in the fields. Then as you stood in front of it, you can see a slightly different version of the Sun Maid Raisins box. 

The woman was a skeleton smiling and the subtitle said “Unnaturally grown with insecticides, miticides, herbicides, fungicides. Then as you walk toward the left of it you see the same picture as on the right only It’s the picture of the actual man before he was a skeleton. And in front of this whole display or rather below it was an altar of some sorts with the hat and the lunch box and water canteen and gloves of the man that worked the fields. It really brought it into perspective what it was like for these men. I wonder if maybe that is why I never really like raisins growing up. Now I never want to see this box again.

There was plenty of other art but the ones I like the most was the Mona Lupe by Cesar Augusto Martinez. It was the picture of the Mona Lisa but she was dressed like the Virgin of Guadalupe. And then there was one that was in neon lights and I could not get a good picture of it but it said, “Make Tacos Not War”. Very clever in my opinion.

We continued along, finding another church decorated all along its bottom with murals.

 But as we walked to the pink line station on toward the family dollar, we saw student housing. It was called “La Casa” and it was very new and modern. And we kept asking what school was nearby for there to be an actual student housing complex. But it seemed that maybe it was called that to accommodate any student that needed a place to live that was cheap and relatively close to school. Besides Illinois Tech, UIC is also nearby. But it still seemed so odd. And it again had me thinking about gentrification.

We went into the Pink Line Station at 18th street to see the murals all along the walls and the stairs. I would love it if every neighborhood did that to brighten up the train stations. It would be lovely. The color added so much more to the usually dull station.

We walked out of the station and along the street. We passed a panaderia called El Acambaro which sold authentic Mexican bread.

 We passed Zarai, which was closed but the sign said “Ropa Tipica” which from the looks of it meant traditional clothing. The dresses were all in the styles of traditional wear not like the modern dresses of today. 

We passed signs on stores that said “Sanctuary for our people. You are safe here. You Belong”. 

Then there was a place that looked like it helped people with immigration and deportation. There was also a sign that I saw in Logan Square that said “No, In the name of humanity we refuse to accept a fascist America”.

There were of course plenty of taquerias that we passed that tempted us with their cheap prices and savory smells but ultimately, we headed back to the Damen Pink Line Station, which was right next to this cute café called “L’Cafecito Jumping Bean.”

For being our last field trip, I must say that Pilsen did not disappoint at all. It was beautiful and vibrant and another neighborhood that I would love to visit again. Not just for the food or the fun but because it just was a great place to see and experience a new culture a new world not too far from me. This whole class has made me want to explore the city more and more. I want to see all that Chicago has to offer.                                            

Resources:

http://aleteia.org/2016/03/19/why-do-we-cover-crucifixes-and-statues-during-lent/

http://stpaulchgo.org/?page_id=298

Map: https://www.google.com/maps/place/Lower+West+Side,+Chicago,+IL/@41.8474056,-87.696635,13z/data=!3m1!4b1!4m5!3m4!1s0x880e2dadbba0bd13:0x600790c3e14d6ce2!8m2!3d41.848922!4d-87.6695189

All photos taken by me

 K.N.

[our21stcenturyodyssey]

Do You Belize in Magic?

Itinerary:

Day 1: Land in Belize City, ferry to Caye Caulker

Day 2: Scuba diving from Caye Caulker

Day 3: Ferry back to Belize City, ATM cave tour

Day 4: Depart from Belize City

Stunning views flying into Belize City

Our Odyssey:

I can't belize Tim and I never prioritized getting down to this Central American gem sooner!! Okay, I couldn’t resist the obligatory pun, but honestly, our quick weekend trip to Belize wowed us beyond words!

As part of our effort to stay warm during Wisconsin's freezing winters, Tim and I decided we would spend a weekend each month through the winter in a different Central American country. Our plan had been to start with Honduras in December, but after stumbling upon some intimidating travel warnings about the city we were planning to visit, we booked a trip to Texas instead.

Anyway, next on deck was Belize in January! An easy 2.5 hours direct flight from Atlanta brought us to Belize City on a Thursday afternoon. From there, we caught a cab (flat rate of $25 USD) to the ferry port and bought tickets for the next ferry to Caye Caulker, an island 20 miles northeast of Belize City. The vibe on this island couldn't be more laid back. There are no paved roads, and no cars for that matter - just golf carts, bikes and bare feet.

We rented a small apartment from Airbnb, that came with a (mostly) friendly neighborhood cat, mediocre AC, and a dingy communal hot tub (to be fair, this was a pretty cheap and basic rental). We spent our afternoon exploring the small town. For dinner, we stopped at one of many places offering fresh lobster, called Enjoy Bar and Restaurant. For a mere $10, I got an entire grilled lobster, rice, veggies and garlic bread for dinner. It was heavenly!!

Our apartment cat.

The next morning we joined Belize Diving Services for a 3 tank dive trip. It was a very early morning (5am) and a very long and rough boat ride to our first dive spot- the famous Great Blue Hole. There are two ways to dive the Blue Hole - deep or shallow. Deep is limited to those who have completed a certain number of dives (I think 25 if I recall correctly), while all others can take a shallow dive. The main difference is that the deep divers descend far enough to enter cavernous areas of the hole to see the stalactites, while the shallow divers can only see the stalactites from above.

While Tim and I have our advanced diving PADI certification, we have only dived a handful of times, so we fell into the shallow dive group. The experience was still very worthwhile, however! The dive starts like any other - you gear up, jump off the boat, and descend to the sandy floor. Then, our guide led us over to an underwater cliff - the wall of the Blue Hole. From there, we descended into the hole alongside the wall. More impressive than the descent, though, was the ascent back to the surface and coming back over the cliff. I think some of the best images I've seen online that capture this experience are ones where a diver appears to be "jumping" off of the cliff.

The Blue Hole as seen from on the surface. 

Our second dive site was Half Moon Caye Wall, which is a coral reef dive full of diverse marine life. On this dive we saw a very shark-like shark (we later learned it was a Caribbean reef shark- I encourage you to look up photos!), and a sting ray, among many beautiful tropical fish.

We then took a lunch break on Half Moon Caye. This small island seemed to me the most perfect tropical paradise - vibrant green palm trees lining the island, surrounded by blue from the sky above and the sea below, and countless frigate birds swirling overhead. We enjoyed a delicious and simple lunch of chicken and rice with Fanta (my guilty pleasure tropical soda drink) on picnic tables on the shore. After eating, we took a hike to a bird sanctuary.

Half Moon Caye - could a more tropical-looking island exist??

The hike itself, before even getting to the bird sanctuary, was like a tropical island wildlife safari. We saw a hermit crab, several large iguanas, and a Belizean Atoll gecko (very rare to see, and only found in this region). The bird sanctuary itself is completely open with no enclosures - just a viewing platform surrounded by trees full of red-footed boobies and frigates puffing their red chests to attract mates.

A red-footed booby 

A male frigate tries to attract a mate.

On our walk back, as we neared the shore, we then saw not just one, but two, baby Caribbean reef sharks swimming in the surf, followed by another sting ray. It was astounding to see so many diverse animal species on this one small island and I still can't believe (or belize…) how lucky we were to have chosen a tour that stopped at this magical place.

Stingray

Baby Caribbean reef shark 

Back on the boat we ventured to the Long Caye Aquarium, a dive site known for its abundant wildlife. Not to give away the ending here, but this was the best dive Tim and I have ever had. It was simply amazing, and had me wishing there was a more dramatic way to express enthusiasm while underwater than just making the "OK" sign with my hands while making big eyes and nodding my head.

We saw more sharks, and then, magically, a green sea turtle, large (the size of the top of a coffee table) and clear floating near the coral directly in front of us. Tim and I saw a sea turtle once before in Florida, but the water was so cloudy that all we could make out was a faint dark blob. This, on the other hand, was what my turtle dreams are made of. After diving in Thailand, diving in the Great Barrier Reef and making Tim stay up all night at a turtle rookery in a small town on the east coast of Australia, only to never see a magical sea turtle until our murky Florida encounter a year ago- this was absolutely incredible and breathtaking (thankfully not literally because that's the last thing you want while on a scuba dive!).

We were able to observe the turtle for several moments, peacefully and elegantly hovering in front of us. Eventually, bored or full or ready to carry on, the majestic animal turned away from us and paddled out to sea, eventually vanishing into the distance.

The water wasn’t done wowing us yet, though - just a few minutes after our sea turtle experience, a fat, 8ft long (at least!) green moray eel slowly slithered below us. We actually saw this same eel several times on the rest of our dive, swimming back and forth against the coral water. It was both spooky (eels are like the snakes of the sea, and a giant green one may as well be an anaconda) and mesmerizing.

Other highlights and rare sights - stone fish, a bull shark, and just a few moments before we rose, a second turtle - this one a hawksbill (we think).

Tim spotted me spotting something! 

When we all surfaced, everyone immediately began talking excitedly about everything we had seen. One couple had just gotten certified the previous week - we were so happy for them that they got to have such an amazing dive so early in their experiences! Everyone in our group agreed it was the best dive they'd ever had. It certainly was for us!! In fact, after this dive Tim and I both said (somewhat jokingly) that we didn’t think we really ever needed to dive again - at least not for a while - since after this dive we got to see everything we'd ever hoped to see while diving.

Back on the boat we had a 2 and a half hours ride back to Caye Caulker. Several people napped - diving is exhausting!

And back on land Tim and I returned to our apartment, showered up and then ventured out for our last night on the island. We stopped by a restaurant our Airbnb host had recommended and each had a drink. The restaurant was empty and had kind of a sad vibe so we decided not to eat there. It was also much more expensive than the place we'd eaten at the night before - so after our drinks we paid and returned to the Enjoy Bar and Grill where I ordered another $10 lobster meal. It was perfect.

The next morning we caught the 6am ferry back to Belize City, where a driver met us to take us inland to the town of Teakettle, where a guide met us and another couple to lead us through a tour of the Actun Tunichil Muknal (also called the ATM) cave. This cave was first entered by the Mayas in 300-600 AD and was the site of sacred sacrificial ceremonies for hundreds of years. The unique combination of nature and history made the decision to visit this spot an easy one for us.

The road leading to the ATM hike.

To get to the cave, we had to hike about 40 minutes, with several river crossings and over muddy ground. Once at the cave entrance, we then had to swim into the cave to get to landing where the "trail" begins. The route then follows the underground river several kilometers (though only a smaller portion is open to tourist visits). We had to swim, climb and squeeze our way through the cave, all while taking in the stunning decorations (stalactites and stalagmites) of the rooms we entered. We even saw a few little bats in a cubby within the ceiling. As we got deeper into the cave, we began to see shards of pottery and fragments of bones - remnants of the ceremonies held here over a thousand years ago. The whole experience must be how Indiana Jones felt venturing through rugged, untouched terrain, discovering artifacts as he went. This is by far one of the most amazing and unique travel experiences Tim and I have had.

Our guide explained that the Maya believed this cave to be the home of the god of the underworld, and like many other Mayan gods, this god required regular human sacrifices. The fractured bones are the remains of those who were sacrificed, and there are two skeletons that are particularly well-preserved and complete. It was unsettling to see these remains of human individuals who had lives and loves and hopes now resting where they were killed to appease a god. It was also incredible to be one of the few who have the opportunity to witness this piece of human history and the mysteries still unfolding as active archeological research is done.

After the tour we had a late lunch back at the truck before returning to Belize City, where Tim and I stayed for the night before flying back to Atlanta the next day.

Although our visit was short, Tim and I saw enough to be convinced that we absolutely must come back to Belize sometime soon. In no other place I've visited has it been so easy to experience tropical diving, ancient ruins and jungle adventures all in one quick weekend. I can't wait to go back!