#feel free to reach out to me if you have lead poisoning prevention questions -- will do my best to answer them!?

[vohannesvotrov]

hello this is my field of work which is why I'm here to talk about it. I'm seeing a lot of discourse in the tags that strikes me as misguided or uninformed, and that's fair! Lead is too often considered an issue of legacy contamination, and not something that can affect us now. I hope I can maybe help with the understanding of this issue (although caveat, my main area of focus is lead-based paint). I'm going to do an overview, and then address some comments as I saw them arise.

The investigation into cinnamon contaminated with lead began in October/November 2023, when North Carolina Department of Health and Human Services identified that a common factor among children recently diagnosed with lead poisoning (also referred to as elevated blood lead levels -- current CDC guidance has a blood lead reference value of 3.5 mcg.dL; can answer more targeted questions abt this if needed) was cinnamon applesauce pouches purchased at Dollar Tree. This potential source of lead exposure went up the chain to the FDA, and Wanabana (the brand that this was originally sourced to) issued a voluntary recall.

The voluntary recall was expanded a few days later, after further investigation revealed other applesauce pouches coming from the same manufacturer. These additional brands were Weis and Schnucks.

This launched an investigation into the contamination, following the manufacturing process to determine where the lead contamination originated. The conclusion is that it was likely from the factory in Ecuador where the cinnamon applesauce was manufactured and processed. The specific compound was lead chromate. The factory hadn't tested the applesauce for contamination. The FDA investigation notes that the cinnamon sticks, sourced from Sri Lanka, did not contain elevated lead -- which indicates the likely source being the manufacturing process. A possibility for the high levels of lead is economically motivated adulteration -- but this hasn't been confirmed.

Because of this, FDA has now been doing targeted screening of cinnamon imports. And that brings us to the origin of the article above. As per the FDA's statement, released on Wednesday, these products were tested and found to have elevated levels of lead. If you have any of these products (or ones which match the lot numbers listed for given manufacturers), please do throw them away immediately. If possible, get yourself tested for lead poisoning -- especially if these have been used in food prepared for children under 6. If you have Medicaid coverage, testing is a covered service, especially for children.

Now, some of the questions that came up in the tags and the notes ranged from "how did this happen?" to "this is probably intentional", and so on.

There is no definitive answer to how these specific cinnamon products were contaminated with lead, but it is likely from one of two things -- the manufacture process, or legacy soil contamination. In some cases, it's been found that lead has been intentionally added, for "visual product quality" or what have you.

Lead in soil and thereby food grown in that soil is unfortunately common -- this is due in part to lead's natural presence in the soil and also contamination from prior uses. In the agricultural context, this may be due to lead arsenate pesticides used in orchards. In urban areas, this can be due to improper demolition practices of older homes. If lead-safe demolition practices weren't followed, then the exterior and interior lead-based paint could drift or settle into the soil.

Now a big thing is whether this was "intentional", especially given that these cinnamon products are found in discount stores that typically serve low-income customers. My answer here would be "no, but sort of yes". The "sort of yes" comes from two factors - first, the piss-poor state of food regulations in the US; second, the incentives under capitalism to boost profits and lower product quality. Was this done out of malice? Highly unlikely. However, the capitalist death-drive for profits and the move to more unregulated markets has malicious and disparate effect. The FDA has limited jurisdiction over manufacturing quality in Ecuador, but that doesn't excuse what contamination did occur in processing.

Ultimately, the situation is not great. And with lax food safety regulations, limited government oversight, and profit incentives to lower product quality - the realm of food safety isn't looking too bright. But it does not have to be this way. Lead is not a dead-and-gone issue, and we can't continue to let government and public health systems pretend it is. In the United States, every state has a lead poisoning prevention program funded by the CDC -- but most operate on shoestring budgets in the face of constant austerity and public health funding cuts. Demand better from our representatives and regulators.

U.S. people, if you bought cinnamon from Dollar Tree, Dollar General, or other discount stores, throw it out. It's got lead

[mrs-gucci]

Rough Around the Edges {Prince Kylo Ren x Reader}

author’s notes: hello, hello! taking a quick break from all the fourth of july stuff to submit this piece for this week’s writer wednesday :) thanks @autumnleaves1991-blog and @clydesducktape​ for organizing this wonderful weekly event!

this story takes place in a medieval AU and is lightly inspired by certain elements in “Beauty and the Beast”.

warnings: angst with a hopeful ending. partially unreciprocated feelings. arranged courtship. time period-authentic sexism (women are meant to please men and that’s all). there’s a kiss.

(possible) tw’s: arranged relationship. implied age gap (not specified, but everyone’s above age).

word count: a touch over 2k

my taglist peeps: @frank-and-honey @shygirl268 @icarusinthesea​ ​@gildedstarlight @mrs-zimmerman​ @soldmysoulagain @roseepossee​​ @pascalisfairyy​​ (if you’d like to be added to or removed from my taglist, the link to the google form is HERE or on the top of my masterlist.)

You sit in front of the mirror while Anna pulls your hair into a flattering updo. Your eyes begin to tear up at the painful sting of your hair being manipulated in such a forceful way, scalp throbbing with each of Anna’s harsh, calculated movements.

"Must you be so rough?”

She offers little empathy in her expression as she looks at you through the mirror’s reflection. “The Prince insisted that you wear your hair up tonight, madame. He was absolutely furious when you wore it down the last time, and I’m the one who had to stand there while he threw a tantrum over it.”

Your eyes roll, knowing all too well of your betrothed’s legendary fits of anger. He’s much too old to be doing such childish things, but god forbid you ever say that to him.

Anna finishes up with your hair, much to your relief, but now the real pain begins. You look over at the corset waiting on the bed and already, your ribcage aches.

“What, are you trying to turn it to stone?” She asks, and you shake your head. “Well, you’re certainly staring at it long enough. Come on now, stand up, we don’t have all afternoon.”

You sigh, rising up out of the chair and walking over to the bed where Anna’s standing, corset in-hand. She wraps it around your torso, pulling the laces impossibly tight over your ribs and stomach, caging them both within the garment. 

After the corset is very securely tied, Anna grabs your dress and helps you step into the golden yellow skirt. She ties the top part with just as much aggression as she tied the corset, making simply breathing a painful process.

“Try to at least look like you don’t want to jump out of the East tower’s window.” Anna remarks as you scowl at your reflection in the mirror. “Have you ever considered smiling?”

“I have absolutely nothing to smile about.” You reply curtly, unamused by this conversation or her suggestions.

She sighs in defeat. “I’m only trying to help, madame. You need to learn how to be a princess, or at least try and act the part.”

“I’m not interested in being a princess, Anna. But, if you ever asked my opinion on the matter, then you’d already know that. Now please, I wish to be alone.”

Anna’s surprised at the hostile tone of your words, but she keeps her lips pursed, knowing she’s in no place to press the issue any further. She simply nods, backing out of the room, leaving you alone.

Your bottom lip begins to tremble as your vision blurs with tears, abruptly turning away from the mirror so that you don’t have to look at what you’ve been forced to become.

There’s nothing that you wish for more than to be free from this life, free to live the way you want to live instead of the one that was chosen for you to live. You loathe the mask you must wear, the painted face that looks back at you through the mirror.

But, you have no choice...you’ve never had a choice.

-

The palace is aglow this evening, thousands of candles burning and casting a warmer shade across the normally-bland ivory color. Your shoes clink on the marble flooring as you make your way to the front steps, looking over the railing at the grand room below.

Lords and ladies, princes and princesses are all arm-in-arm, walking through to the ballroom. Some have stopped to converse with each other, fake smiles plastered on their painted faces. 

You huff to yourself as you reach the top of the staircase, and at the bottom, stands your betrothed. He looks up as you make your way down the stairs, a pleased smirk tugging at the corners of his lips with each step you take.

Kylo holds his hand out to you when you reach the bottom, guiding you down the final stair before looping his arm through yours. The two of you walk towards the ballroom, smiling and nodding politely at the other guests.

“You look nice.” His voice is flat, emotionless.

You huff in false amusement, physically having to prevent your eyes from rolling. “Am I supposed to thank you for saying that?”

"Ah, you’re learning.” He says, stopping to look down at you, fingers holding your chin and forcing you to look up at him while his eyes linger over your face. “Perhaps there’s hope for you yet, little dove.”

You yank your chin from his grip, snarling softly. “Don’t touch me.”

His hand suddenly comes up to wrap around your throat, teeth bared. “I can touch you however I please, young one. You’re mine, and you ought to learn your place.”

Once he feels you relax, feels you surrender under his touch, he lets go of your neck and continues walking as if nothing’s happened, dragging you along with him.

He wears you on his arm the whole evening as he talks to various noblemen and you just stand there, silent with a small smile, pretending like you don’t exist. 

Then, the two of you take a seat at the big table with King Han and Queen Leia, beginning to feast on the royal spread. You barely eat, partially due to the fact that you’re afraid to bust the ties on your corset if your abdomen expands even a little bit too far, and Kylo seems to take notice.

“I promise I didn’t poison it.”

You look over at him with widened eyes. He simply smirks, laughing softly to himself.

“I’m only joking, little dove.”

You’re incredibly surprised, stunned into utter silence at the fact that he’s just joked with you. You'd been convinced up until this point that humor wasn’t a part of his emotional capabilities, that he was only capable of anger, hatred, and inflicting fear. 

His hand hesitantly rests on top of yours, which makes you flinch. He looks conflicted in the moment, as if he’s deciding whether or not to be upset that you react this way to his touch.

“Why aren’t you eating? You need to eat.”

You look away, jaw clenching. “I know you don’t actually care why I’m not eating, Kylo. Plus, none of my answers will be good enough to please you, anyway.”

He stiffens, pulling his hand away immediately.

“Perhaps you’re right.”

Your eyebrows furrow at the tone of his voice. He almost sounds...upset. Not upset at you, though, upset at himself. 

The rest of the time he’s silent, only glancing over at you occasionally. Dessert comes around and you don’t even touch it, simply sitting up straight with your hands in your lap.

Couples rise from their tables as the musicians begin to play an upbeat tempo, gathering on the ballroom floor. Kylo stands up next to you, holding out his hand without a word.

You rise from your chair and take his extended hand, allowing him to lead you out to the ballroom floor. Dancing was customary in Alderaan and was a very popular practice at gathering’s like this. 

Kylo’s large hands drop to your waist as soon as you reach the floor and you reach up to rest your hands on his broad shoulders. The two of you sway in unison and make your way around the dance floor skillfully, gracefully. 

After the song comes to an end and another slower one begins, the Prince tilts his head down to look at you. His face is stoic, unchanging, but there’s something different about this look. It’s not as harsh or as emotionless as it normally is; there’s a certain gentleness to it.

Your eyes keep his gaze, looking back up at him with a curious glint in your eyes, drinking in his up-close appearance for truly the first time since you’ve arrived in Alderaan. He’s intoxicatingly handsome, there’s no getting around that, but his personality and temper leave a lot to be desired.

Yet, despite his hostility and distaste for you, you still find yourself temporarily entranced by his presence, melting under his gaze. It’s in this moment that you catch a glimpse into your own psyche, recognizing the true source of your vehement hate and closed-off behavior towards him. 

All of it is done out of a desire to hide your attraction to the man that you’ve tried so, so hard to dislike. There’s always been a small part of you that’s known this, but you figured that if you pushed it down long enough and acted otherwise, perhaps you’d eventually convince yourself otherwise. But, alas, those feelings of attraction have only grown and festered beneath the facade of hatred.

It is true, Kylo Ren is a moody, closed-off, hostile and frankly childish being, but you’re somehow able to look past that and see the diamond-in-the-rough quality to the young Prince. You know that somewhere, behind the stone wall he’s so clearly built up around himself, there’s a goodness to him. You’ve seen glimpses of it throughout the time you’ve known him, but he almost immediately shuts it down instead of letting it show further, a fact you find incredibly perplexing.

“Y/N?” His voice pulls you from your thoughts.

You snap from your temporary trance and shake your head. “Sorry, I was deep in thought.”

“I gathered.” He chuckles softly. “If I asked what it is you were thinking about, would you tell me the truth?”

“Probably not.”

He nods. “I appreciate your honesty.”

The two of you continue to move around the floor before the handsome Prince clears his throat, cheeks flushing a delicate shade of pink.

“May I ask you a question, completely unrelated to my previous inquiry?”

You nod, and he swallows harshly.

“What is it about me that you loathe so much?”

Your stomach drops and you suddenly feel a touch of lightheadedness begin to pressurize within your skull. You’re frozen for a moment as you try to decide whether or not to tell him the truth.

“I don’t...why are you asking me such a thing? I know you don’t actually care about the answer.”

His jaw clenches and his grip suddenly tightens on your hips. “Why do you always insist that I don’t care?”

“Because I know you don’t, Kylo. At least, not truly.” You reply, squirming beneath his grip.

“W-Well, what if...” He huffs, looking away. “What if I do care? Or am at least trying to care?”

You’re genuinely surprised by his words, taken aback for a moment. This is a turn you certainly didn’t see coming...

“I find your ever-changing moods and stubbornness often makes you difficult to deal with. You never try, at least up until this point, to understand my feelings or show any sort of interest in getting to know me, which just makes me feel even more unwanted than I already do, and I--”

Before you can continue, you’re cut off by a sudden presence on your lips. It registers in your mind, then, that he’s kissing you. You stiffen, and he pulls away slowly, eyes staring into yours.

“You are not unwanted, Y/N.” He says, voice low. “Never...p-please never think that.”

Did he just say ‘please’? That’s almost the most shocking thing he’s said thus far.

“I don’t think you’re a bad person, Kylo. Just...a little rough around the edges.”

His entire demeanor shifts for a moment, and for a split second, you swear he looks happy; truly, genuinely happy. Perhaps a bit of relief was sprinkled in, too. He wears a small, barely-there smile as he continues to look down at you.

“I would like to try and change. We should at least try to get along, considering the fact that we’ll be wed soon. I know you don’t want to be here, but I’d like to at least try to make things a bit easier, h-however I can.”

You can’t stop the smile that quickly spreads across your face, delightfully pleased to hear these words. Your expression widens his smile ever so slightly.

“I think we can certainly give it a try.”

Kylo nods, a subtly optimistic expression etched on his features.

“I’m looking forward to it.”

[sporksaber]

Ok, I love the role swap concept with zuko and azula, but I feel like they switch their abilities and personalities a bit too and I think itd be more fun without that. Where Azula is an antisocial and unstable genius who wants to gain power and zuko still struggles with being the less powerful and extremely empathetic sibling. So here's how I'd do it.

(Note, this is just for fun. I'm not saying anyone else's version is bad. But I've though about this so much and need it out of my head before I go off cuz make a whole comic and I do not have the time, i need to work.)

First off, Azula wouldn't call out in concern for the men like how zuko did. In my version she's allowed into the meeting because of the aptitude for strategy shes shown. She speaks up because it's an inefficient plan that uses up too many resources when there are other options. This enrages her father and leads to the agni kai. Azula is terrified and feels betrayed but has no idea how to handle any of it. She fights back during the agni kai, but in her panic she sets off a bolt of lightning. Ozai finishes the match and severely burns on her lower back. Azula is banished for her use of lightning on the fire lord (bc ozai fears she will no longer be easy to manipulate and might plot his death) and is forced to leave the next morning.

Some things to note: azula is eleven at this point. I changed the placement of the scar bc I think zuko's is very symbolic in a way that doesnt suit azula. Zuko's scar being over his eye and close to the light chakra shows the way his view of the fire nation and honour obscures his vision and how he is unaware of the truth of the world under fire nation rule. I set azula's over her spine because that chakra is based on survival and blocked by fear. It also represents trust which will fit into her arc with the gaang. Finally, she doesnt have Iroh to guide her. One of the things that bothered me was Iroh writing her off as evil despite her being a mentally unstable child. She did have to be defeated, but the way he talked about it was too dismissive. (Personally I think he was projecting his views of his brother and his perceived failures with him onto her.) Azula isnt sent to capture the avatar so she isnt given soldiers. She's completely alone without an advisor to look to or keep her calm.

Azula is given a manned ship with a disgraced soldier and an attendant when she leaves. The way I see it the soldiers zuko had were probably more irohs than his. The soldier is relieved to not be executed but hates being demoted to playing babysitter to a child at sea. The attendant views it as a punishment and hates Azula for it. Eventually the attendant will betray her and be killed for it. Azula never trusted the soldier and he eventually leaves to start a family in an earth kingdom colony. Azula doesnt miss him, he was no longer useful. The loneliness does get to her though.

Azula is obsessed with getting the underhand, so she had been successfully building connections and planting spies where needed.

(Zuko has been acting as a respectable crowned prince. He holds a zealous loyalty to his nation and father. He still faulters as Iroh tries to steer him from tyranny, but his sights are set on his father's approval and that alone. Afterall, if his prodigy could be discarded who's to say what would happen to him if he failed?)

This brings us to the start of the series. Like Zuko Azula witnesses the trap on the old fire nation battle ship go off. She investigates and finds that an air bending avatar is living at the south pole village. She decides she wants to speak with him.

Azula didn't believe the avatar existed before this point. Hiding didnt add up to her knowledge of the morality of airbenders, so she assumed the air nation avatar from the start of the war would be dead. She would know if one had appeared in the water tribe, as the south had all its benders killed and the north was compacted so close together it would be impossible to hide. Earth would be harder, but they were most likely to fight back and out act. And if in ba sing se they'd be used as a weapon or gotten rid of to preserve the peace of the city. Once the culcle progressed to the fire nation it would either be used to take over the other nations or enf the cycle for good. After all, there hasn't been an air bender for a hundred years even if the rumors of some acolytes surviving were truthful.

Azula kidnaps aang with far more ease than she should of been able to. Once he stops struggling she calmly offers him tea and promises to release him once their discussion is finished. He takes the tea and drinks it without question and besides a wary glare shows no more hostility. She thought him a fool, the tea could have easily been poisoned and promised are nothing but words. His naivete makes her job easier though.

She finds out that he was suspended frozen in the avatar state the last 100 years. And so, Azula informs him of the war and the fire nations crimes, advising him to master the elements if he wants to prevent all his new friends and the avatar cycle from certain destruction. Aang is conflicted, he never asked for any of this. Azula just gives a bitter smile. "The hands of fate were never designed to take requests, they move without regard to any life dependent on it. Dont waste your breath when there is nothing you can do."

Azula wants to see Ozai fail. If helping the avatar is what it takes then so be it. When his friends appear to save him she let's them leave without a fight. Theyll be useful in the future.

As the gaang's travels kick off she sets out to find out if the rumours about the acolytes are true. In this she finds a traveling circus. The youngest daughter and an old friend of hers was eager to escape and found Azula's life exciting. She didn't hesitate after being invited along, insisting that traveling would be easy for her and that she'd pull her own weight.

She encounters the gaang a few times as time goes by. The relationship is reluctant on the water tribe siblings part, they dont trust her and hold a decent amount of fear towards her. Her cold and calculating demeanor was unsettling, but the unhinged way she fought was terrifying. Her form was perfect and her attacks were precise, but the bigger the fight the more lost she became as she laughed and shrieked and occasionally snapped at someone who didnt seem to be there. The only worse reaction was when she zeroed in on one opponent, picking them apart both mentally and physically as she drove them to the ground. )

Things that'll happen as I move through an episode list:

Azula doesn't have her ship attacked do she diesnt run into zhao while doing repairs, instead going straight to ty lee.

Azula learns that the gaang is on kyoshi island and heads ther after them. She has been keeping track of the avatar as they move. Ty lee gets along well with the kyoshi warriors while azula buts heads with them. They dont want her there and azula hates it when people get in the way. Zhao appears to try to capture aang and Azula dips at the same time as the gaang. She tells ty lee she can stay but she insists on sticking with azula. This puts her on edge.

Ty lee gets captured by earth benders, when she escapes on her own she cements her usefulness to Azula.

They run into zhao trying to capture the avatar and azula tells him she'll capture him first. They both attack aang during the solstice, though azula's attacks are all purposefully set to miss and trip up zhao as much as possible. Aang is the best way to prove her father wrong and she's not going to lose that.

They rob the pirates that try to capture the avatar. Azula needs the resources and it gives her leverage over the gaang.

After almost killing ty lee for scaring her by popping up behind her Azula tells her why she was banished. (In more of a "my own mother thought I was a monster" way than an opening up about trauma way.)

Azula learns that zhao has captured aang and frees him. She then sets to reworking her information network as not all of them are scared enough of her to not fail her. She remedies it quickly.

Azula learns that zhao is plotting her assassination and decides it's the perfect moment to fake her death.

Azula enters the north pole to defeat zhao and gain any information she can. Ty lee rades a library during the confrontation. Zhao is surprised and infuriated to see her alive, Azula smiles as she sends him to his death knowing that she is not only helping the avatar but also that he gave her a perfect way to hide from the fire nation. (When news of his sisters death reaches hum, Zuko doesnt know what to think. She was always cruel to him, but she was still his little sister.)

The crown prince of the fire nation is sent to capture the avatar. Azula follows him as he begins his search. (Zuko begins to think he's going insane as he keeps catching glimpses of his recently deceased sister out of the corner of his eye.)

Ty lee keeps running into a girl she slowly befriends. She's gloomy and sarcastic and ty lee thinks Azula would like her. (Zuko's fiance Mai tells him that she thinks his sister is still alive.)

As Azula notices ty lee become more and more distracted as she absorbed herself into the cultures that surround them she decides it's best for them to split up. Ty lee diesnt agree, but Azula leaves anyway. She has work to do.

While traveling alone Azula cant escape the thoughts of her mother. Of her fathers betrayal. Of the life she lost because the idiot elders had no grip on proper strategy that even a child could create. She meets a boy that reminds her far too much of zuko with a mother far to similar to theirs. When she sends the bandits controlling the town running she knows it's more than just controlling a territory that compelled her. But at the same time she doubts not following through on the whim would have bothered her.

Ty lee meets toph and chat for a bit. Ty lee tells her about azula and how she left. When toph tells her she should forget her she insists that azula didnt really ditch her and that they're still friends. They talk about their friends and childhood.

Ty lee finds Azula and immidiently jumps at her, which she does not enjoy. Ty lee insists that she still wants to travel with her and Axula sighs as she let's her tag along to the next location, ba sing se.

Azula slips through guards and protocols as she tries to gain any information she can to help her once they reach the city. Ty lee befriends a guy named jet and his group, the freedom fighters. When he tries to get more than friendship she turns him down and it becomes much more awkward.

Ty lee becomes a street performer and chames everyone she meets as Azula researches the dai lee and how they keep control. After lashing out in frustration ty lee drags her out to enjoy the city's night life.

Azula learns of the presence of the avatar and location of appa. She frees him and sets to work taking control of the dai lee. She let's herself be briefly captured but her plan shifts when katara is thrown in with her. Katara is pissed just being around her and azula plays up a cool kind of annoyance. Katara briefly catches sight of the burns on Azula's back and offers to heal her, only for Azula to freak out and yell at her to stay away, backing against a far wall in a fighting stance. They are saved by the rest if the gaang and ty lee shortly after.

Azula goes back to try and salvage her plan only to be caught off guard by the appearance of her brother and his offer to return to the fire nation. Not willing to lose all possible advantages, she agrees. They battle the gaang, and when they are almost captured azula sends a bolt of lightning at aang, causing them to retreat. Katara can heal him more easily than she can maneuver them out of an execution.

Azula returns to the fire nation with her brother, mai and ty lee, starting the beginning of a large power play between her and her father. They are sent to lo and li beach house. The relationship between the siblings is tense, zuko has always been the child born with nothing who gained everything when his blessed at birth sister lost it all. Azula has always been cruel, but he cant help but let his heart catch on the moments when she's not. ("My own mother thought I was a monster, My father thought i was too difficult to keep around" "Don't let their words blind you, you need to be more careful, zuzu." "I learned the hard way to never turn your back to anyone, and the scars will always be there as a reminder if I need it." )

Azula runs into iroh, who is very disapproving of her presence. He warns her to stay away from zuko and to watch herself while at the palace. Later, zuko comes to her asking about their great grandfather. Upon being pressed he admits that he was sent a mysterious letter. He thought she was going to burn it when he handed it to her but instead the heat from the fire revealed a hidden ink. "Honestly brother, did you ever pay attention at all during lessons?" They find a autobiographical scroll of their great grandfathers life and the secret that their other great grandfather was roku. Azula scoffed at the idea of bloodlines deciding fate and quickly left. But Zuko remained conflicted.

During the day of the black sun Azula confronts Ozai. As iroh and Zuko fight the avatar. She learns that her mother left for zuko's sake and that she was never going to be fire lord. Azula tells him she'll be somthing even better and leaves the palace.

Azula and ty lee follow the gaang to the western air temple. Katara immidprntly attacks but is quickly rendered unable to bend by ty lee. Azula tells them that the only way for them to of gotten out was for Aang to be incapacitated, and she knew katara could heal him. Aang decides they can stay but have to stay distanced from everyone else.

Azula tries to teach aang fire bending but is slowly growing sick while aang is barely able to produce a puff of smoke. Unable to sleep and constantly on edge, it soon affects her bending, sending her spiraling as she loses control on the only consistent power she's ever had. Her and aang journey to find the true source of fire bending to try to help their conditions.

Still sick, Azula is itching to do anything away from the temple. Finding sokka trying to reach the boiling rock to find his father, she decides to go with him as she knows the prison well. Sokka declines but she goes anyway. They dont find his father, but they do find suki. Azula formulates a plan but they postpone when sokka's father arrives.

Azula comes up with a new plan, now reluctant to include sokka. He tells her to trust him but she insists she has no reason to. Her sickness has been getting worse and he tells her she needs to trust him, making her angry. Only when he catches her while they're escaping dies she finally begin to accept trusting him, if only slightly.

(While they're away ty lee tries to convince

Azula goes with Katara to find the man who killed her mother. Azula has no concept of why katara is so upset, which causes her to get angry. But azula tracks the man anyway.

Ember island players- azulas character has the scar across her chest. She's absolutely insane and "not entirely inaccurate, but I'd never come up with such a dumb plan." Shes also heavily implied to be more than close to ty lee, which azula has no reaction to even as the others freak out.

I havent decided the ending, zuko will probably turn to the gaang's side. I'll add more later and maybe write or illustrate a bit.

[liliyawisteria]

Chapter Five: Wait For It

Content: Sage and Liliya run into a bit of trouble in the woods, but Liliya has a plan. They then bond over booze around the campfire.

Pairing: Sage x Liliya

Word Count: 3,020

Notes: This chapter is purely self indulgent fluff & two pining idiots falling for each other. I couldn’t sleep til I finished it so here we are 😂

The forests of Astraea were incredible. Liliya marveled at each new species of mushroom, flower, and bush she found along the way. After she’d created her first wildflower bouquet on the second day of their trip, it became a game to see how many new types she could find. Sage surprised her with his extensive knowledge on the forest's native flora. It seemed he knew something about each new blossom she picked; whether or not it was poisonous, if it could be dried and turned into tea, if it had any medicinal uses.

“Where'd you learn so much about flowers?” Liliya asked, tucking a bright yellow bud into her growing bundle. The light was beginning to dim through the canopy of large trees. They’d soon need to make camp for the night.

Sage shrugged. “Spent a lot of time outside as a kid. Had to learn pretty quick what would and wouldn’t kill me.”

Liliya smiled to herself. She had been trying to get to know more about Sage throughout their trip, but he wasn’t forthcoming about his past. Getting any piece of information about his life felt like a prize. He seemed to feel more comfortable with her by the day, though. As they continued their journey, she noticed his walls break down bit by bit.

She hopped onto a fallen log and tiptoed across it, balancing herself with her arms out and glanced at her travel partner. “What were you like as a kid? I’ll bet you were so cute with your little ears and tail and a baby Sage face.”

Sage stopped in his tracks and swiveled to glare at her with a huff, though his cheeks were flushed. “Cute? I’m a mercenary and a sellsword, I’m not cute. Dangerous and sexy, on the other hand…”

“Yeah, yeah, so you've told me a million times,” Liliya said with a playful roll of her eyes. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“Unimportant. You don’t want to know about my past, trust me.” Sage continued walking without waiting for a response. Liliya scurried after him, attempting to catch up with his long strides.

“What if I do?”

Sage halted once more and stared down at her with furrowed brows. “‘Cause I said so.”

The strain in his voice startled Liliya. She didn’t press him further in the fear her attempts to befriend him would push him away. “Alright. But I’d love to hear all about you if you ever decide to open up.”

“Unlikely,” Sage grumbled, but he was smiling again.

Suddenly his ears perked up and he let out a low growl, pulling her close to him in one swift motion, nearly toppling her over.

“What the-”

“Don’t look now,” Sage whispered to her, “but we’re being followed. Stay behind me, I’ll take them on.”

Liliya’s eyes darted around until saw several shadows in her peripheral vision. She felt her stomach lurch and her heartbeat quicken. “Are you sure?”

Sage nodded once. “They’d have passed us already if they weren't. Just stick with me and I’ll get us out of this.”

A chill ran down Liliya’s spine at the memory of Sage’s glowing eyes; the anger and pain that consumed him every time he was pushed too far. She would do anything to prevent that from happening. So she made a split decision as she leaned forward and whispered to Sage.

“Follow my lead.”

Liliya suddenly threw her bouquet to the ground and stepped back with an audible huff. She only caught a glimpse of the confusion on Sage’s face before she reached out and slapped him as hard as she could. She turned on her heel and began to walk directly in the direction of danger.

“What the fuck?!” Sage exclaimed before following after her, trying to grab her wrist as she pulled free from him. “Have you gone crazy?”

“Oh, yes. I guess I must be the crazy one,” she said, her voice raising into a shout. “You named your sword after me, Sage! Who names their sword after someone and then goes and cheats on them?”

Sage’s eyes were wide with shock, though she wasn’t sure if it was because of her outrageous plan or because she was yelling at him.

“Liliya, this is-”

“Don’t even try to explain yourself!” She cut him off and sent him a withering look. “I thought this meant forever! It’s not every day your boyfriend names his sword after you! What is wrong with you?”

She began walking again with her arms folded across her chest, heart thumping.

“Liliya, stop-”

“Do not tell me to stop, Sage! I swear to the gods-”

Three scraggily looking men abruptly stepped out from behind a tree, wearing startled expressions.

“Er…Everything alright here, young lady?” One of them addressed Liliya in a gruff voice.

Liliya looked up at the bandit and shook her head before sending another glare at Sage. She would have laughed at how surprised he looked in any other situation. “No, it most certainly is not. I just found out my dirtbag boyfriend is cheating on me. After he named his sword after me, no less!”

The thug who had spoken nodded at her with a look of understanding. His partners were silent beside him. “That is pretty low. You need us to take care of him for you, sweetheart?”

All three began to draw their weapons and advance on Sage who still stood frozen in shock.

“No,” Liliya said sternly, shooting a leer at Sage. The thugs halted and one quirked a brow at her. “I’d like to take care of this myself, if you don’t mind.”

The bandits gaped at her as she grabbed Sage by his ear and dragged him off in the direction they had come from, yelling at him the whole way. After they were out of earshot, she stopped and shoved Sage against a large tree and glared at him with folded arms.

“Are they still there?” She asked, still maintaining her aggressive posture.

“Liliya, what in the hells was that? You could have gotten killed!” Sage reached out to grasp her shoulders but she pulled away from him with a huff.

“You didn't answer my question, Sage!”

Sage inhaled sharply, his ears swiveling around. Liliya managed to sneak a glance in the direction of the thugs, who were now retreating along the path further into the forest. The pair watched quietly until the trio of thugs had disappeared into the distance.

Liliya let out a breath she didn't realize she’d been holding and turned to look at Sage once more. As soon as she saw the look on his face, she burst into a fit of laughter.

“You should've seen your face! It was priceless,” Liliya said between giggles.

A low rumble sounded from deep within Sage’s chest, though she could detect concern in his expression. “Liliya, you can’t just do that! What if they had hurt you?”

“It worked, didn’t it?”

“Well, yes, but-”

“No buts,” she interrupted. She reached out and brushed his cheek with her thumb. “Sorry for slapping you.”

A hint of red rose on Sage’s cheek. He coughed. “Just don’t go around pulling stunts like that anymore. I can’t let you get hurt under my watch. I'll never hear the end of it from Felix and Anisa.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’ll be fine.”

He stared at her for a heartbeat before she saw a familiar twinkle of mischief in his eyes. “Can’t say I’d mind being shoved up against a tree again. Or a wall-”

“Sage!” Liliya felt her own face flush now, but her stomach fluttered.

He chuckled and then patted her on the shoulder. “C’mon, let’s go set up camp. I’ll scout the area after we get the fire going to make sure those thugs are really gone.”

***

Night had fallen by the time Sage scouted the area to ensure the thugs were long gone. Liliya had shocked him with her earlier stunt, yet he had to admit her acting had impressed him. He could never predict what she would do next, but he wanted to be there when she did anything.

He returned to find Liliya huddled by the fire he’d built and smiled to himself. Every time he had to leave her alone, part of him feared she would run off and rid herself of him. But she was always there when he came back.

Sage padded through the soft grass towards her and collapsed by her side. “They’re gone, guess we’re all alone again…”

“Hello to you, too.” Liliya glanced up at him and shook her head with a chuckle. She wrapped her cloak tighter around her after a visible shiver.

“You’re cold,” Sage noticed with a frown. He still donned nothing on his chest but his red tailcoat, but he had an idea.

Liliya nodded while he grabbed his supply pack and began digging around inside. “I thought I’d brought enough layers, but I guess I underestimated how cold it’d be… What are you looking for?”

“Yeah, it gets colder the closer we get to Porrima- closer to the water,” Sage said, still sifting through the pack's contents with a look of concentration. After a moment his face lit up and he presented a glass bottle. “Ah-hah!”

Liliya eyed the bottle with a raised brow. “You brought booze?”

“‘Course I did, Liliya! Never know when you’re gonna want to party,” Sage grinned at her and waggled his eyebrows playfully, then nudged her. “Plus, it’ll help you warm up.”

She hummed in contemplation. “Alright, we can call this round one.”

“Round one?”

Liliya giggled at Sage’s confused expression. “Of the drinking competition you keep denying me! I think you’re just scared I’ll beat you-”

“Hey now!” Sage chuckled, meeting her eyes briefly. No one had ever challenged him like her, but then again no one had ever hung around him for this long willingly. “I'm simply saving you the embarrassment of losing to a renowned champion.”

“Oh, is that it?” Liliya nudged his shoulder gently. “Alright then, hand it over.”

He shook his head but handed her the bottle with a smile. She opened it and then took a big swig and swallowing before sputtering with a grimace. “You really think you're gonna beat me when you react like that to one drink?”

“No one said I had to like it!” Liliya protested, a pout on her lips. His eyes lingered on them a moment too long before he forced his gaze back to her eyes. He distracted himself from the heat he felt rising on his face by taking a long drink of his own. She watched him as he did and nodded in appreciation. “Don't know how you can do that. The stuff is disgusting.”

“Tapping out already?” Sage’s knee brushed against Liliya’s, causing his stomach to flutter. It was too early to blame the alcohol for that.

Liliya leaned in to grab the alcohol back from him, but stayed close to him this time. She wrinkled her nose at him and stuck out her tongue. “There you go again underestimating me. Just because I don’t enjoy drinking it, doesn’t mean I can’t handle it.”

Sage chuckled softly at his feisty trainee as she tipped her head back to guzzle down an even larger drink. This time, her face wasn’t as expressive. “Aye, your poker face is getting better already. Look at me teaching you.”

She rolled her eyes and elbowed him, handing the bottle back over before leaning on his shoulder. He froze and held his breath, remembering the first time she’d been this close a few night’s prior. Somehow, they always ended up like this at the end of the day; resting by the fire side by side, with her resting her head on his shoulder. He looked forward to it every evening now, though he still yearned to hold her.

Liliya nudged him, interrupting his thoughts. “Don’t tell me you’re tapping out now.”

Sage scoffed and pointedly chugged another mouthful of the pungent liquid. “You think I’d give up so easily? Liliya, Liliya… No, was just thinking.”

“About?”

His brows knit together; he hadn’t expected to say that or for her to ask about it. He nudged the bottle back into her hands and nodded for her to drink, which she did. “Nothing, really.”

“You expect me to believe that?” She laughed and pressed away from him to look at him. Her cheeks were flushed from the alcohol, at least he thought it was the alcohol. “You’re never quiet. Must’ve been thinking of something.”

Sage huffed and shook his head, folding his arms around himself. Liliya began to poke him. “What are you doing?”

He laughed and swatted her off, but she was relentless. “I’m going to poke you until you tell me what's going on in that head of yours, so you’d better just tell me!”

“Okay, okay! Just stop that,” Sage said, pulling her back to his side. He left his arm wrapped around her shoulder this time. Liliya poked him once more before smiling up at him and handing him the bottle back. He took a contemplative swig and sighed. “It’s just… this trip has been nice.”

He felt Liliya nuzzle into his shoulder. “I think so too.”

His heartbeat quickened and he felt a warmth flood his body. He couldn’t figure out why this happened to him around her; he was always smooth around people he was attracted to. With Liliya, he stumbled over his words and said things he never planned to. And still, everything felt easier when he was around her.

“You’re thinking again,” Liliya teased, reaching to poke him. He caught her hand in his and swiveled to meet her eyes.

“Not so fast there,” he said in a low voice. She burst into a fit of giggles and leaned in, her head resting on his chest. She was most certainly intoxicated. Sage couldn't help but smile at the giggling mess of a woman. “What’s so funny?”

She raised her head to gaze at him, still laughing. “It’s silly when you act all ‘tough guy’ around me. You’re just a big softie.”

Sage scoffed, but found himself smiling back at her. The alcohol was effecting him now as well. “Who’s doing the underestimating now?”

Liliya rolled her eyes and grabbed his hand. He didn’t stop her, just watched as she stared at it and then looked back up at him. “I know uou’re strong, Sage. But you’re sweet too. You've been helping me this whole trip.”

“You’re just sayin’ that ‘cause you’re drunk, Liliya,” he chuckled, though the butterflies in his stomach hoped otherwise. He was the furthest thing from sweet, but she made him wish he could be.

She shook her head vehemently and tapped his nose once. “Nope! It’s true. You, Sage Lesath, are sweet behind your big, tough guy exterior.”

“I’ll take your word for it. C’mere,” he said as he pulled her back against him. It felt so nice to be so close to her. He rested his chin in her hair and inhaled the same floral scent from the first time they’d met.

Liliya hummed contentedly, her eyes closed. “I think I’m drunk.”

“I know you are.” Sage chuckled. He reached to brush her hair out of her face, realizing too late what he had done. He froze, then relaxed when she hummed softly again. He needed to be more careful in the future; he couldn’t let himself get too close to her or she would get hurt.

He shook his head at the thoughts and decided to distract himself. He nudged Liliya softly until she looked up at him, her cheeks still rosy. “Hey, c’mon, I found something while I was scouting I think you’ll like.”

***

Sage led Liliya into an open clearing he’d stumbled upon earlier. Her eyes lit up as they stepped into the moonlit meadow. She craned her neck to stare straight up at the sky. He gazed at her instead; his breath caught at the sight of her amongst the flowers littering the field.

“They’re so beautiful,” she murmured, eyes glued to the sparkling stars above.

So are you, Sage thought.

He swallowed and scratched the back of his neck sheepishly, still warm from the alcohol. Liliya glanced back at him with a grin. “Thank you.”

“It's nothing, you said you wanted to see ‘em.” He shrugged and sat down in a patch of grass, leaning back on his hands. Liliya joined him, sitting closer than she normally did.

“You didn't have to actually take me,” she said with a smile. “I appreciate it.”

“Er- no problem.”

Sage wasn't used to doing things for others. He found himself wanting to make Liliya smile, though. A little detour like this was no trouble at all if it meant getting to see her light up like she was now. His thoughts swirled with images of her almost constantly since their first meeting, and being close to her at all hours of the day wasn’t helping.

“I wish I could see stars like this on Earth,” she whispered as she stared into the night.

“You don't have stars?”

Liliya chuckled. “We do. The cities are too bright, though. You have to travel to the middle of nowhere to see any.”

Sage grumbled. Earth sounded so strange; he wasn’t sure how anyone so lovely could come from such an awful sounding place. “How about this? We can come look at ‘em any time you’d like while you’re here.”

He groaned internally as soon as the words escaped his lips. He was supposed fo be distancing himself from her, and here he was promising to take her stargazing whenever she wished. But when she was beaming at him like she was now, he couldn’t bring himself to care, especially with a few drinks in him.

“You mean it?”

Sage nodded and turned his head towards her to find her still gazing at him with a look he couldn’t place. Their eyes locked for a long moment until he glanced down at her lips. She was so close to him. It would be so easy to lean in and close the distance between them. His hands felt like they were shaking from holding back from her, but he couldn’t let himself ruin whatever this was. Not yet.

Instead, he brushed a stray lock of her long hair behind her ear and smiled softly at her.

“I mean it.”

[themilky-way]

in the night

gif credit: pedropcl

pairing: javier peña x fem! reader

summary: when you’re asked to partake in a dangerous task, you form a sudden and unexpected bond.

warnings: mentions of the mob and alcohol, a very vague implication of a gun

author’s note: this man lives in my mind rent free good-fuckin-night  

----------

life in columbia sure as hell wasn’t easy, but being a dea agent working against the downfall of the world’s most powerful criminal took the proverbial cake. your mission had seemed fairly easy: travel to bogotá and help the columbian authorities catch escobar. except, the ambassador didn’t mention any sort of infiltration, one that had to be done by none other than you. 

there was no fighting it. the job carried many (dangerous) responsibilities, and someone had to fulfill them. to help, steve had reached out to carillo and asked him to substitute one of his own men, which, in a way, wasn’t any better because someone’s life was still at risk, but it was denied. connie made the wait for you as easy as she could by sending you dinner with peña a few nights a week, and although you loved that woman like your own blood, she couldn’t make a bowl of rice even if her life depended on it. 

by being a helpful friend though, connie had unintentionally brought her husband’s partner closer with you. you knew of him and how he worked, an unavoidable aspect if you operated where he did, but your role slightly differed from his. the week you had been assigned for undercover was spent in the privacy of your apartment, ensuring important documents were locked up, sorting a couple of suitcases as if this was a leisurely trip instead of a guaranteed death sentence. the following week wasn’t any less hectic, but it was the first time connie sent out a personal order to you. her chosen delivery man? yeah, you guessed it.

it became a regular occurrence after that. the days leading up to your departure began consisting of javier residing in your home for hours at a time. there were moments where he showed up at your door without a small bag of food, claiming steve was in charge of dinner that night and how he’d never forgive himself if he let you take a bite of it. you noticed how on some nights, he’d linger for just a few more minutes than he should’ve by washing spare dishes or going over routes crucial to the cartels. he didn’t need to do any of that, but the difference here was that he wanted to. 

“so,” steve started off one morning, “you and peña- you guys a thing?” he ended it with a small smirk perfectly hidden by the bottom of his coffee mug. indeed, an unprofessional topic for an unprofessional man.

“to my knowledge, he’s just being a friend and a very bad delivery person,” had been your answer at the time, never once looking up from the jumble of words constituting your report. nothing else mattered as much as your security on that mission; you truly didn’t have the time to delve into emotional matters and invest any thought into silly questions like this. “he keeps me company, that’s all.”

perhaps you were lying to yourself about this whole thing, afraid of what might happen if you allowed emotion to regulate the demanding life you led. a vase of lively flowers would replace the holster on your coffee table. scattered papers and pens and pictures would find a home in neat sections of a drawer rather than the floor. a few photographs might even color the opaque walls. these were trivial aspects of your life, and the aspirations to contrive them hardly appeared in your mind, but now? well, now they were everywhere. 

during the third week, javier didn’t even need steve’s wife to deliver anything. excuses to knock on the hard wooden door of the complex were compiled up in his brain, and they were eloquently spilled in order to pass its threshold. “you see these papers? yeah, we need to go over them,” he’d say all rushed and hurried, holding up a stack of articles with sloppy handwriting. the thoughts-hopes-from before would start then, and they’d take up every ounce of your reasoning as if nothing else mattered. from that point forward, javier’s attention was yours, and your’s his. watches’ were discarded and left on a random end of a couch, the sounds of the clock drowned out by the now casual chatter instead of a business delegation. nights of the exact nature transcurred one after another, with the agent leaving closer to dawn no matter his imploration to keep you company. “call me if you need anything, alright?”

ultimately, everything had led you to the couch your legs were crossed upon, javier sitting in the space between it and the small, rectangular coffee table. one leg lay calmly folded on the pearl-tinted carpet while the other was bent, an elbow resting sturdily on top of his knee. a blanket covered the bottom half of your sitting form with a few of its edges tickling the man’s arms, but it seemed he didn’t mind the feeling. you’d offered him one, and upon his negation, you’d offered him to share yours, which earned you a cocky remark. tonight, he didn’t bring any documents or transcripts to revise, only what he insisted to be the best take-out meal in town. additionally, being the friend he was, he gifted you a bottle of whiskey that was to be celebrated with, except he was on his third refill, and you weren’t even finished with the first. 

“unless you wanna sleep here tonight, i suggest you slow it down,” a small joke as you leaned over to place the glass down. you assumed he’d laugh as he did with all your past banters, but was met with nothing but the sound of his ice rocking against his cup. naturally, you turned to face him as you reached back, catching a delicate smile below the curve of his stache.

“yeah, i’m sure you’d like that, huh?” he took a sip as coolly as ever. the glass came down next to yours, his newly free hand propping up on your knee closest to him. granted, the close intimacy wasn’t new-none of it was, at this point-but your very own mind was spinning and wasn’t due to the alcohol, or potential food poisoning, or even goddamn nerves wracking your system about the ordeal you’d be facing. “no, seriously. would you like me to stay?”

“i mean i wouldn’t technically mind it if i had company. i’d prefer connie but you’ll do, i guess,” to this, javi did release a hearty laugh, followed with a expression of feined insult. 

a few hours trascurred beyond that moment before exhaustion creeped up on the both of you. it was arranged that he’d sleep on the sofa while your bed awaited you in the adjacent dorm, and it appeared quite modest. “i’ll, uh, i’ll be right back, hold on,” you assured him, discarding your day clothes for something more comfortable in private. you brushed your teeth next, and then fixed your disheveled hair into a style suited for sleep. 

“oh shit, javi-” you found him sitting at the edge of your bed tucking in a sheet that almost threatened to come off. he’d taken the liberty of adjusting the variety of pillows and blankets how he deemed fit you best. “did you just un-make my own bed?”

he got up to lift one cover to motion you under it, replying with, “yes, ma’am, i sure did.” javier ensured that every single limb was secure under the safety of the sheet, standing up straight to peer down at his work and, regarding it “perfect,” said his good night, but cold fingers unsheathed themselves to encircle around his wrist to prevent him from leaving. “oh, come on, i did such a good job-”

“please stay with me. just for a little while,” you plead. it took him more than few seconds to properly register your words, but eventually he twisted his hand to take a hold of yours and bring it into his lap as he sat back down on the cushion. he didn’t mind-he never would. you spoke to him about random things, conspiracies and books and movies and in turn, he offered his own insight. amidst slurred words, the entanglement of your fingers to his occurred. javi’s thumb drew softly on the edge of your own; throughout the silence that suddenly filled the space, he cautiously lifted the top of your hand, as if to wait for a withdrawal, and when he saw none, he kissed it softly. 

“murphy asked if you and i were a thing,” he mumbled. 

“what’d you tell him?” you asked.

“that we are.” he kissed your hand again before letting it go, rising up to stand over you. with the same gentleness as he’d done to your skin, he inched down to press another to your forehead. “get some rest, i think you’ve seen enough of me for today.”

“i don’t really think that’s possible.”

[kikoqueenofrats]

Alright so, I’ve been working on these pictures for the past few days. I’ve created an ava au, inspired by minecraft roleplays. So basically the “sticks” replace the players in minecraft, being able to store items in a sort of hammer space, though that space is limited. The sticks of this universe are like normal human beings, so they have parents, grow up like normal humans and only have one life. Though the one life rule doesn’t apply to a handful of sticks. The other mobs are considered inferior to the sticks, I’m mostly talking about the villagers, pillagers and piglins. that’s mostly because they speak in a different language to the sticks and aren’t as advanced civilization wise. I thinks that’s most of the world building done, if you have anymore questions feel free to ask in the ask box or dms. I’ll get into the character specific info now. TW death, injury, kidnapping and shipping  

Red,Green,Yellow and Blue don’t remember much from their past life, only really remembering that they had to flee from their homes and ending up in a forest. Since they all were only about five years old they don’t remember knowing each other, only really vaguely remembering their short time together. They were separated during their flee, resulting in them only growing up with one of their old friends each. Red and Blue spent most of their childhoods in the forest, learning how to survive on their own before running into a village. They remained there for a while until Blue discovered a nether portal when he was about 12yrs and proceeded to get lost in it, Red went in after he found out what had happened from one of the villagers. Yellow and Green managed to run into a pack of pillagers, who raised them up until they were 14yrs when a group of sticks killed them during a raid. Yellow and Green swore revenge on the sticks in that village and did so by blowing the entirety of it up. They’re now both on the run from the group of angry stick figures, only really having each other for company.

After wondering the nether for a good while Blue managed to find another nether portal, only this one didn’t lead home, it lead to a swamp bio. He was about to turn back when he was grabbed by the resident witch and turned into a piston, forced to work as her netherwart harvester for a few months before being turned back. She used this to make him stay and work for her, forbidding him to help with the potions to prevent him from trying to escape. Though that doesn’t mean he didn’t try to learn from her, every time he was caught making a potion she turned him a piston for a few months. He is yet to be deterred, the punishment only resulting in him becoming more careful in his self-taught potion making. He wishes he could see his friend Red again but knows the consequences of leaving could be much worse than being turned into a piston, so he stays put.

Whilst searching for their friend Red ran into a bunch of piglins like o.v Blue did in ava 20. The events following their first journey were similar to o.v Blues in ava 20 apart from it taking a lot longer for them to get to the portal Blue went through, since the group went through a lot of portals trying to reach the right one. Red ends up taking 8yrs to find Blues portal, resulting in them becoming incredibly attached to the piglins that were helping them. especially to the smallest one they had risked their life recusing.

After running around the forest for a few years the duo finally managed to shake their perusers off. Settling down inside an abandoned pillager base next to another village. Feeling petty they both attacked, though it was more lighthearted than what their other family had done, terrorizing the village by stealing their stuff and blowing up their houses. They were nervous of the sticks living their at first, but after their first attack and the eventual confrontation they realized that the duo living their weren’t so bad (Green even took a shine to the Orange one...for some reason). They proceeded to begin messing with them more, though they didn’t blow up anymore houses, creating a somewhat “playful” rivalry between the two duos.

Orange does not have any memories past 11yrs old due to a head injury. He woke up in a forest, scared and confused he wondered it for a few days before stumbling upon a village.  This village was run by Purples parents and upon finding the injured 11yr old they quickly brought him into their home. After not being able to find Oranges parents or anything about them due to Oranges memory loss Purples parents decided to raise him. When Purple was 17yrs and Orange was 15yrs Purples parents were killed by pillagers during a raid, Purple and Orange managed to defend their home however the loss hit them hard. They only spent a few hours grieving before having to deal with their new responsibilities. Purple tried to deal with it all at first, though that quickly became overwhelming so she asked for Oranges help. Orange obliged and they’ve both been looking after their village ever since.

There is a city of stickfigures in the middle of this world run by a stick with magical powers given to them by the gods of this world, It used to be led by a kindly king, with three princes, All of them were part of the magical linage. Unfortunately the king and two of his sons were killed, no one is sure how as there are two stories. Some believe the middle child and his personal guard conspired against the king and his eldest brother, killing them both with a poisoned arrow before killing the youngest as they fled the city as he witnessed the death of his older brother and told their uncle. Others believe the eldest sons death was an assassination paid for by the kings brother himself and the youngest died when the other nephew and his guard fled the city. Though people who try to spread the second story are quickly silenced. Alright that’s it for now, may post more if inspiration hits me but for now I hope you guys enjoy my little rant.

[waiting4inspiration]

Addicted XI: A Cure

Summary: Ivar’s self attempt at remedying his pain leads to him poisoning himself. You’re frantic trying to find a cure and too emotional to be of any help to him.

Warnings: angst, mentions of drug use, poisoning, mentions of abandonment, it’s really angsty, mentions of death, small fluff, 

Word Count: 2,485

Addicted Masterlist II Vikings Masterlist

It’s been days since you last spoke to your father all because you don’t really have anything to say to him. There’s nothing you wish to tell him, nothing that you want to share with him that has happened since he left. You told him all he wanted to know, what happened to your mother and brother, and that’s it. What else could you possibly say?

Ivar lets you speak freely every chance you two are alone, letting you ramble and rant on, comforting you when you need it. He’s just thankful that you’re holding up your promise. He’s just grateful that you trust him to heal you just as he trusts you. 

But, he hasn’t been holding the end of his promise. He feels that bothering you with his pain will only burden you more, so he keeps it to himself. A part of him is determined to do this himself, sort out his pain on his own, like he has always done. 

But he can’t stop wishing that you hadn’t thrown away those leaves. He can’t stop thinking about the relief they gave him. 

Perhaps he can find them again in the market? 

You’re grateful to have Ivar by your side no matter what, that he’s there to listen to you without asking for anything in return. That he’s holding his promise to heal you and protect you. It’s a relief to not keep everything to yourself as you did back in England. It’s a relief to just let it go. 

Though, you can’t help but feel like you’re neglecting his pain. 

In the middle of the night, you wake up to the sounds of Ivar groaning in pain. It makes you snap around to face him, and the sight you see him in makes your blood turn cold. 

He’s drenched in sweat, but shivering as if he’s stuck in a blizzard. His chest moves rapidly up and down, as if he had run a mile. And his body jerks every now and then in fits as pained groans and screams leave his lips that have a blue tint to them. 

“Oh Gods, Ivar.” The words leave your lips before you can even think about them and you quickly push yourself up to kneel beside him. 

Grabbing his shoulders, you don’t care about his sweat because the fact that he is burning up makes tears brim your eyes. Letting him rest against the headboard, you take his face in your hands to try and get him to look at you. “Ivar? Ivar, look at me,” you beg, a thousand thoughts running through your mind as to what might be wrong. 

Patting his cheeks to get him out of his unconscious state, a small bit of relief washes over you to see his eyes flutter open. But that relief fades at the sight of blood in his eyes. “What is it? What’s wrong?” you frantically question, stroking his face cheeks as you shift closer. You ask him that because, honestly, you have no idea what’s happening. 

He breathes out a weak sigh as his head falls against your hand. He’s very weak. “The leaf,” he mutters out, and you barely catch his words.

“The leaf? The leaf is gone, Ivar. I told you that,” you gently whisper, thinking that he’s wanting it for his pain. 

But he shakes his head and turns his gaze down to his hand. You follow his gaze, watch as he slowly opens his hand to show you that he has been holding onto a herb. One that looks like that you used to give him for his pain. The leaf that caused only more problems. 

Taking the leaf from his hand you carefully examine it. And one small difference, the darker color of the leaf, tell you exactly what you need to know. “Ivar, this is poisonous if you put it in your mouth and it will kill you if you swallow it,” you whisper, looking back up at his face. 

And the realization hits you so hard, it makes your body numb. 

His eyes close as his head falls back. Throwing the leaf away from you, you take his face in your hands and stroke his cheeks with your thumbs. “Ivar? Ivar!” He doesn’t respond. “Shit.”

Pushing yourself off the bed, you rush out the room, not caring if you bump into things and make them fall over with loud crashes that wake up the entire Hall. You have to find the cure. 

The cure? What’s the cure? 

Working with herbs, your mother made you learn all about them as if it was a religion, made you memorize their look, which ones look alike but are, in fact, so different, what the cure is if they somehow get mixed up. You could list them off in your sleep. 

But now, the thought that if you don’t find the antidote, Ivar will die clouds your thoughts and makes it hard to think about what your mother taught you. 

“Green leaves, grows on a post; darker leaves, sprouts from the ground,” you mutter to yourself, trying to recite the phrase your mother taught you about these two leaves because your brother used to be treated with one of them. The same one you treated Ivar with. “One heals, one kills. Both can be fixed with a meal.”

A meal. The kitchens. 

Trying to recall the rest of the phrase as you run to the kitchens, you pass by a few people who take note of your emotional state and question what the matter is. But you don’t reply. You have to focus on finding the antidote. 

Scrambling through the kitchen, trying to find what you’re looking for, you pick up herbs that you probably have in your pouch, but you can’t remember where you put that. “Mugwort, mayweed, nettle, thyme, fennel,” you mutter as you take them, something inside you telling you to do it, like it’s second nature. You feel that your combination is right, and you don’t see the thrall standing in the doorway staring at you like you’re a crazed woman. 

As you turn to leave the kitchen, your eyes go to the firepit where the evening meals meat was roasted. It hasn’t been cleaned out yet, and a burnt piece of wood, charcoal, takes your interest. A voice in your mind tells you to take it. Your mother’s voice. 

Grabbing a piece of cloth first to prevent you from burning yourself if the wood is still hot, you take the piece of wood in your free hand before storming out the kitchen. 

Back in the room, you throw everything on the table as you move to grab a bowl. You have to put everything together. Ivar’s not looking good and seeing him even paler than before, his lips bluer now makes fresh tears spring from your eyes. 

Looking at the herbs you have, you realize you need a knife. Ivar always has a knife beside the bed. 

“Gods, what happened?” You don’t comprehend Ubbe’s words. All you can think about is the cure. Get it done. Get it done. You don’t even remember picking up the knife and walking back to the bowl to cut the herbs. 

By now, tears are streaming down your cheeks at the thought that he’s doing to die if you don’t get this done. You need to be quick. You’re not being quick enough. 

“(Y/n).” You don’t know if it’s your father’s voice that makes you lift your head or your name, but you look away from the bowl in front of you and see him pushing his way past Ubbe at the door and walking towards you. 

Renier sees your distraught state and it makes him stop for a second before he picks up his pace towards you. But you look back at the bowl and grab the next herb to cut up. “(Y/n), let another healer take over,” your father whispers as he tries to reach out to place a hand on your shoulder.

“No!” you shout, throwing the cut up leaves in the bowl and grabbing the next one. “No, I can do this. I can help him. I can fix this. I don’t need help. I can - ow.” Not being able to see what you’re doing because of your clouded vision thanks to tears causes the knife to slip and cut your hand, making you drop it to the table and step back. 

And then, your knees give in. 

Falling to the ground, you break down in sobs and hold your hand to your chest. Lifting your head up when you hear Ivar’s strained breathing. “Ivar,” you whisper to yourself, glancing up at the table again and finding another healer picking up where you left off. “Leave it. I can do it,” you whisper, not sure if she heard you or not. 

As you stand to your feet again, Renier stops you by placing his hands on your shoulders. “Let her do it.”

“No. I can do it. I can do it-”

“(Y/n).” Again, it’s either your father’s voice or your name that makes you look at him. And when you do, he cups your cheek in his hand and wipes away a tear. The comfort you’re receiving makes you weak and you fall forward into your father’s chest. 

Renier looks over to Ubbe and Hvitserk who stand at the foot of their brother’s bed, give him a nod to say that it’s best to take you out of the room. You’re too emotional to help Ivar even if you really want to. You’ll just end up hurting yourself more. 

You have to trust someone else to help him, take a step back. 

Keeping your head in his chest, Renier walks you to the door, comforting you by stroking the back of your head as you sob. This reminds him of when you were a child and you had a nightmare. You would call out for him and would want only him. 

Halfway to his room, you shake your head and try to pull away from him. “Ivar. I have to help him. I have to-”

“You have to take care of yourself, my darling,” he gently says, wrapping a strong arm around your shoulders to stop you from pulling away. “Ivar will be fine. You have my word.” You look back at him and raise an eyebrow as if to ask if he is sure. 

In his room, he sits you down in a chair before moving to look for something. You watch him move around the room, open chest after chest on his search as you bite your lip. Looking over at the door, contemplate getting up and returning to where you feel you need to be. 

How could you have left Ivar like that? How could you leave him dying with a healer you don’t know? What if she doesn’t know what she’s doing? Did you even know what you were doing? What if she makes things worse? What if-

“Ow!” you hiss, your head snapping down to your hand when you feel a sting only to find your father dapping the cup on your hand with a wet cloth that smells of alcohol. 

But he doesn’t apologize. The focus on his face intrigues you. And when he reaches for a cloth to begin wrapping your cut, you tilt your head to the side. “You’ve done this before,” you whisper, noticing skill in his way of bandaging a wound. 

He chuckles as a smile grows on his face. “Your mother taught me a few things. And I helped some healers during wars when they were overrun with work,” he explains, glancing up at you when he ends off the bandaging and pushes himself off the ground, to his feet. 

Standing in front of you, your head lifts more to look at him as he reaches out to wipe a tear off your cheek. “You love him,” he whispers, keeping his hand on your cheek, waiting for you to withdraw from his touch. But you don’t. 

You nod without having to think about it. You do love him, and you haven’t told him. He could die tonight without you even telling him that you love him. “I can tell. Your mother acted the same way when I came back one night close to death,” he says, turning to grab a chair and pull it closer so he can sit in front of you. 

You frown at him. “I don’t remember that,” you whisper, leaning back in your seat and finding comfort in his presence. It’s not tense like you remember your last interaction being. 

“It was just before you were born. Your mother was pregnant with you at that time and we still lived in the village,” he states, leaning back too and smiling to see you relaxing around him. “People found out who I really was and didn’t like what my father was planning, so they decided to kill me. After your mother fixed me up, we moved into that out away from the village, knowing that you’d be safe away from those that wished harm on me and you; my heir,” he explains, and somehow, you find yourself smiling. 

“Soini would have ruled before me,” you say, a small laugh on your voice as you look down at your hands, your eyes meeting the golden ring he gave to you on the docks. 

Renier hums, shakes his head and shifts in his seat. “No. In Nanard, the firstborn is always the successor. No matter if their female or male,” he states, making your head lift back up to look at him. 

You stare at him for a second before turning your eyes back down to your hands. “What’s Nanard like?” you question, changing the topic about ruling because you’re not sure how to feel about that just yet. 

“It’s beautiful. Both in summer and winter,” he states, perking your interest and making you look up at him again. “We have direct access to the sea. Some say it is a weakness, but I see it as a strength. Because of that, trading can happen all year round. The kingdom is rich, but not in gold like some kings strive to be rich in. Nanard is rich in other ways,” he adds, a smile growing on his face as he speaks about his home. 

You swallow, run your tongue over your lips and shift in your seat. “I might like to see it sometime,” you whisper, your sincerity surprising both you and him. But still, his smile grows bigger.

“I’d like to take you. One day,” he says. You smile, happy that he’s not pushing you to make a decision to go back with him when he leaves like you thought he would. “When you are ready, my daughter.”

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[eusoraya]

⟨ YARA SHAHIDI. CIS FEMALE. SHE/HER. ⟩ though the mist might prevent some from seeing it, SORAYA ASHOURI is actually a descendent of D I O N Y S U S. it’s still a question of whether or not the TWENTY-ONE year old PRE-MED & ENVIRONMENTAL SCIENCE MAJOR from ADELAIDE, AUSTRALIA has taken after their godly parent completely, but the demigod is still known to be quite SINCERE & WORRISOME. you can read up on some more information about this demigod below, and follow them over on their blog HERE.

ABOUT | WANTED CONNECTIONS

some random info under the cut ! 

POWERS

chlorokinesis is her strongest ability, and her proficiency in it stems both from natural ability and practice. she can summon and control vegetation, though she enjoys the natural plant caretaking process once they’ve sprouted. she generally uses her powers to help her with her plants or for aesthetic purposes, but she can also manipulate vines for offensive purposes when necessary.

the next power she is most confident in is the ability to cause and cure madness. when she first discovered this ability by accidentally causing someone who had been gossiping about her to go mad, she worked with the camp trainers to learn how to reverse it. now, she can remove madness almost as well as she can give it out. at eonia, she generally uses this power at the clinic to cure those unfortunate enough to have been poisoned or targeted by one of her siblings.

alcokinesis is actually one of her weakest abilities. she can hardly conjure anything from thin air, but when transforming liquids into alcoholic beverages, they generally taste watered down or just gross. since she has no real desire to perfect this skill, it is mostly fine with her, although it is slightly embarrassing when forced to serve it to others.

not much of a party person, in the past she’d mostly used the ability to appear at any party to accompany her friends to parties or escort them out. her natural acting abilities are also apparent, but she sticks to portraying minor characters in the drama club’s productions.

PERSONALITY

depending on the extrovertedness of the people she is around, soraya can be considered quite reserved or even shy. she has a tendency to become flustered around others, especially when she cannot predict their next actions or understand what they’re thinking. this often leads to awkward behavior on her behalf, as it is difficult for her to rely on her natural acting abilities to smooth things over when there is no character to hide behind.

soraya is a very big advocate of communication. she can be especially vocal and direct when it comes to those she loves, as she’d much rather talk it out with her loved ones rather than allow miscommunication to cause a rift between them. this also applies when defending others, as she’s been known to clumsily tell someone off and then spend the rest of her days regretting her existence.

in her natural element, she is a spirited, jocular girl. while she loves to have fun, she is much less likely to make wild or bold choices without the right company. she’s conscientious, but also very agreeable, meaning she will generally follow a friend into trouble despite her protests and mumblings. this applies more to fun hijinks or other trivial things, however – when push comes to shove, it is rare for her to compromise her highest values.

MISCELLANEOUS

classic dork tbh. spends way too much time at the gallery and the multiverse, gets nervous around people who are clearly too cool for her, has never reached quote unquote french kiss territory, texts strange memes at 2 am, and frequently conversates with her plant children.

character inspo: do bong soon (1, 2, 3), fabiola torres (1, 2, 3, 4) ruby martinez (1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8), justin russo (1, 2, 3, 4), grace olsen/noora saetre/eleonora sava (1, 2, 3, 4)

doesn’t usually refer to non-friends by nicknames unless it’s the only thing they introduce themselves as. generally calls her friends by their full first names or something she’s made up bc she likes to be special.

she has a great relationship with her mother, but she still hasn’t told her about being a demigod. her mother believes that she is just attending an elite university, and she’d rather keep it that way.

went on a couple quests back in the day. she probably complained most of the time but she did what was required.

her alcohol sucks! it tastes very cheap and watered down! she’ll never offer to make it but don’t bother complaining if you’re the one that asked! she doesn’t care!

money is no object to her. will casually offer to pay for her friends if they need it but she tries to do it in the most respectful way she can.

i’m still working on her wcs page since it looked too ugly before, but feel free to message me before it’s posted KDJSJDSK

[insfiringyou]

BTS - ‘One Last Time’ - V leaves for the military (V x Cassandra)

Contains: Angst. Smut.

Set a few months after V and Cassandra’s historical roleplay goes wrong and she was forced to use her safeword, and following the events of ‘Refuge’ where Taehyung moves out of their shared apartment, Cassandra seeks closure on their relationship before he enters the military. 

This is a major part of our headcanon universe and ongoing storyline (find out more here) - this is set after Jin, Suga, RM, J-Hope and Jimin have started their military enlistment. 

To read each member & their girlfriend’s headcanon universe fics in order, follow the links here: RM   /   Jin  /   Suga  /   J-Hope   /   Jimin   /   V   /   Jungkook 

& Our full masterlist can be found here

Rated Content below the cut

She unclasped the polka dot skirt as she locked the door and stepped out of the wide pool of fabric, turning to the pair of washed-denim jeans she had slung over the back of her chair before the show. It had been a two week stint at the small theatre and her throat was a little sore from singing. ‘Dreamboats and Petticoats’...her friend had shown her the advertisement for the part in the local newspaper and, while it wasn’t Broadway, the month of practise for the song and dance numbers had kept her mind and body occupied, preventing her thoughts from running wild.

The lighting was dim in the dressing room, but a sparkling glimmer in the large mirror caught her eye and her heart began to thud heavily as she eyed the large crystal vase on the table, a sea of blood-red flowers cascading over the sides. She considered who had let him backstage during the show, before she spotted the delivery receipt from a local florist on the dresser, weighed down by a tall bottle of Dior foundation. With a trembling hand, she knowingly teased through the lightly-spiced stems and petals until she found what she was looking for. The note had been handwritten; one corner of the paper slightly curled from the moisture of the bouquet. 

I leave on Friday

Always yours,

Tae

She put the note down slowly, surprised to find that her eyes had started to water. She had known for months he was due to go in and had subconsciously been avoiding the news websites she usually scrolled through for the past few weeks, not wanting to get involved. The flowers caught her eye once more, their fresh, sweet scent filling the room just as they had done on the day they met. Even the vase, a tall, crystal number, seemed identical and she wondered what had happened to the original. Had she lost it when moving apartments? Getting dressed and with a heavy heart that seemed to be beating too fast, she made up her mind and grabbed her car keys from her purse, deciding to forego the wrap-up party which was already taking place in the foyer, but gulping a free chute of champagne on her way past.

***

Roaming her eyes over the set of buttons, she struggled to recall which number Jimin resided at. A familiar pang of frustration rose in her as she reached in her jean pocket and pulled out her cell, flipping through the string of text messages between her and Taehyung, vaguely remembering him texting her the address a few weeks before. The fact he had sold his cozy, top-floor apartment in Gangnam to move into her cramped studio had been an arguing point from day one, and now, with an ounce of bitterness, she hoped he finally realised what a stupid thing he had done. It had been the first of many tense moments between them in the months leading up to the sex act which had gone so terribly wrong and she couldn’t help but wonder if they had been allowed more space apart, more breathing room, their lives wouldn’t have become so poisonously entangled that they needed to push each other to such extremes. It was pointless thinking of that now - what had happened had happened and, while they had texted intermittently in the past two months, with time healing some of the hurt he had caused her that night, she wouldn’t be able to forgive him completely. 

She found the message she was looking for and pressed the buzzer on the intercom, unable to remember which of the four floors Jimin’s apartment was on. She automatically took a step back as the front door opened, the sight of Taehyung on the doorstep, wearing a pair of frustratingly attractive glasses beneath his dark, curly hair, leaving her a little winded. He was clutching a crumpled paperback between his long fingers, the title unreadable in the small distance between them and she noticed how mature he looked; how his usually boyish features had changed in the months since she last saw him. She didn’t know what to say and could see he was likewise stunned into silence. Remembering why she had come; the flowers he had sent, she felt a stab in her chest and slowly moved forward, wrapping her arms around him in an embrace. His sweater was soft against her cheek, his scent familiar, as she held him close, feeling his hands cautiously touch her back, his fingers splaying as he hugged her gently.

“You’ve still got your hair…” She eventually murmured, realising they had been silent for half a minute as she pulled away. He looked surprised to see her; it was something in the way his dark eyes twitched which only someone who knew him as intimately as she had done would notice. 

“I thought I’d enjoy it while I still can.” He replied slowly, his hand moving subconsciously to touch the edges of the tightly permed locks, as though in a daze. “You got my flowers.” It was not really a question and when he stepped aside, she followed him into the building without a pause, waiting for him to lead her into the ground floor apartment. 

“How did you know I was performing?” She asked, waiting for him to close the door behind them before taking a few more steps into the narrow hallway. The pastel hue of the wallpaper along with the framed photographs which perched on the edge of a painted cabinet suggested the decor had been chosen by Ara; her and Jimin’s matching smiles filled the photo frame, the picture taken at a beach. She eyed, beyond that, a golden trophy she vaguely recognised from the MAMA awards and wondered whether it was Jimin’s or Ara’s.

“I saw a review online.” He shrugged easily beneath his pale turtleneck sweater. 

“I just took it for the money…” She paused, cheeks a little pink. The musical, which mostly attracted the older residents of the city along with their grandchildren, was not exactly the type of gig she had planned when going into acting. But then again, why should she have to feel embarrassed in front of him? “And the costumes.” She added with a smile.

“I love Buddy Holly.” He murmured sincerely, making her wonder whether he had even noticed her blush. 

“I know…” She whispered. A quick glance in the living room told her, as expected, he was alone. While the basics of the furniture were clearly not to his taste, the various objects lying around were clearly his; indicating he had been occupying the place for a number of months. She tried to recall how long Jimin had been away but failed. She guessed Ara must still be on tour, or otherwise happy to stay elsewhere while Taehyung stayed in the apartment. She wondered whether he had started looking for a new place yet, somewhere he could return to after all of this was over. “Do you have time?” She met his gaze.

“Yes...it’s just me here…” He confirmed, leading her into the adjoining space. She looked over the small pile of books littered on the coffee table as he put down the one he was currently reading. She could see the crumpled cover now it lay face up; the image of a train track fading into the distance beneath the title ‘Different Seasons’. “Do you have something else lined up?” He asked, hovering by the doorway to the kitchen, waiting to see if she would sit down.

“Not yet.” She turned to face him, once more taken aback by how bookish and academic he looked in this unfamiliar place. 

“I’ve been thinking about what happened…” He started, needing to say something to break the awkward air between them. She could see he had been holding onto this for months, unable to express his feelings in a text or phone call, and needing to see her face-to-face to explain in person. “I want you to know how sorry I am…”

The longing in his voice made her stomach drop, knowing he had spent months coming to terms with what had happened... He seemed so harmless and, looking at him now, she found it hard to believe how scared he had made her. A part of her knew, deep down, that this didn’t mean anything...that whatever had caused him to act out that night was still in him somewhere and she hoped that whatever toxic environment had caused their relationship to sour so quickly, he would know next time if it were to happen with someone else, to stop himself before it was too late.

“I just couldn’t leave things the way they were.” She admitted with a sigh, knowing that while it was not perhaps the most sensible option, it was the truth. “When you sent the flowers…” She found herself staring into space. “I remember why I fell for you in the first place.”

“Red carnations…” He murmured in a low voice.

“Because you wanted me...I know.” She nodded, recalling in perfect clarity how he had looked when she first saw him; the silk shirt he wore with the top set of buttons unfastened casually as she caught him in the foyer, the delivery boy ratting him out as being the one to have sent the flowers. She had not yet removed her long dress and the delicate beading and lace detailing had glimmered in the soft light, cast down from the chandeliers. She had been the queen of the fairies on stage and she couldn’t help but wonder whether he would still find her attractive up close, without the bold theatre makeup and glitter she had wiped off as soon as her final scene was over. The way that he looked at her as she tapped him on the shoulder, with his dreamy dark eyes, had quickly dissolved any doubts. His eyes ran over her features like she was the only woman on Earth; that they were meant to be together. It was the closest thing to love at first sight she had ever seen. 

“I still feel that way.” His voice brought her back to the present and her eyes snapped up to meet his. He held her gaze strongly, his usually dreamy expression replaced with something more fierce and concrete. 

“I meant to come and see you sooner.” She explained, both to herself and him as she moved closer.

“To end it?” 

“I hoped you wouldn’t argue with me.” She said softly, confirming his question. 

“I don’t see the point…” He murmured gently, rubbing his nose between his fingers and taking his glasses off. “You’ve clearly thought it over.”

She nodded, looking up at him. “Thank you.” Her voice whispered. “I wanted to come and say goodbye.”

His mouth twisted in acceptance, biting his inner cheek. “It means a lot.” She could see the tears starting to well in his eyes, making them glisten as his voice cracked. “I won’t bother you anymore.” He promised.

Her heart sank and she reached out for his hands, grasping them softly. “Don’t…”

He let out a sob as the first tears fell on his cheeks, his lips opening and closing a few times as he tried to speak. “I’m so scared Cass…” He eventually said, body trembling. She thought it was the most honest thing she had ever heard him say and felt a surprising wave of relief wash over her. His admittance wasn’t news to her; she had known it from the moment he received the letter, months before, but he had desperately tried to hide his feelings, masking them with wine and sex and pointless arguments. She wondered why he had fought it so hard, but realised she couldn’t relate; while her own sex faced plenty of challenges, it was only those with the Y chromosome which had to go through this particular ordeal. “I don’t know how I’m gonna make it through…” He wept, letting go of her hand to wipe his eyes messily with his sleeve.

“It’s not forever.” She reasoned, whispering soothingly. 

He sniffled. “I had this image of you being there when I come out…” His voice shook. “Of us getting married, having kids..”

She felt her cheeks grow warm, her stomach dropping unpleasantly as his face began to swim before her eyes, her own tears falling thick and fast. “It’s hard for me too…” She admitted, knowing that despite knowing him for three years, she had never seen him so vulnerable; he had never allowed her to get close enough to see him this way. “You’re not a bad person Tae.” Her brow furrowed, realising it was true.

He lifted his head from his chest, looking her straight in the eye. “I wanted to grow old with you.” 

“Stop…” She pleaded, her eyes and cheeks wet.

She felt his fingers tangle in the back of her hair as he bridged the gap between them, pressing his mouth gently to hers, their tears mingling as he opened his lips against her, wanting her to respond...to know how he was feeling. It was no use trying to resist; she could sense herself softening beneath his touch, knowing that she shouldn’t but unable to stop herself from kissing him back; their bodies pressing closer as she felt his warm breath against her skin. It felt cathartic and final, with her finally pulling away to press her forehead to his.

“One last time…” She nodded, agreeing with his silent plea, whispering against his lips. 

He was silent for a moment, nuzzling her warm, wet cheeks with his nose before tightening his fingers against her scalp, being careful to be gentle as he tilted her face upward, her long neck arched and exposed as he looked at her. 

“I loved you so much…” He gasped, his eyes glistening as he took her in.

“You too.” 

Their eyes stayed locked for a moment longer, savouring the mutual confession which was all that remained of their love. When their lips met again, she found her own hands moving to his hair, running it through the tight curls as he brushed the straps of her camisole off her shoulders, his palms holding her steady. She clutched him tightly to her as he opened his warm mouth against her chest, pecking her pale skin while she gasped above him, running her thumb over his exposed cheekbone. He continued for a moment, trailing along her collarbone before looking up, his eyes full of lust as she caught his lips between hers. 

Her fingers trailed along his lower back, appreciating the soft indents of his pelvis as she eased his sweater from his torso, throwing it to the shag-pile carpet before moving back to him, grasping his cheeks in her palms as they kissed ferociously. The band on her jeans was tight, but he slotted his thumbs between the gap at the back, moving them along her hips until he reached the button at the front. She allowed him to unbuckle her and slip his fingers beneath the hem of her panties, pulling them down her legs as he dropped heavily to his knees. Sweetly, he pressed his lips to her inner thigh, moving along the curvaceous parts of her skin where a light pattern of stretch marks adorned the fleshier part of her legs. She let out a moan, savouring his tenderness as he kissed her lovingly - seeming to trace the patterns with his lips, as though wanting her to see herself the way he did. Her lips parted as he tilted his head and moved between her thighs to the triangle of tightly curled pubic hair, pecking her slit sensually a couple of times before pulling away, a little breathlessly. 

“Can you stand up?” She asked softly, taking his hands in hers and pulling him to his feet.

She unbuckled his belt quickly, the sound of the metal clasp ringing through the cozy room as she eased the black fabric away from his crotch, reaching beneath the zipper to curl her fingers around his cock. She bent down as she uncovered him and kissed his long shaft gently. He was not quite hard; his emotions overwhelmed his desire, and she encouraged him onto the small, two-seater sofa at the edge of the room, sitting him down while she nested between his legs, the carpet soft against her bare knees. He didn’t protest as she wrapped her lips around him, clutching him gently as she sucked his cock. She knew his body intimately and she found herself brushing her tongue familiarly along the grooves and veins in his shaft, pressing against the underside of his tip as he hardened in her mouth. His head lolled back as she withdrew, letting him go almost completely before sinking down on him again. 

“You feel so good Cass.” He gasped, stroking her hair softly as she kept up the pace, working him slowly in a way she hadn’t done in years. It had been a long time since she had made love to him with her mouth, with her in control, setting the pace. She wondered when things had changed; when they stopped showing their love for each other through their bodies and instead became addicted to pushing each other to their limits, using each other like a drug. With a moan, she kept going until she felt his fingertips against her cheek. She let him go softly, looking up. 

“Can you fuck me?” He asked gently, his expression dreamy beneath his bangs. Slowly, she nodded, her thighs sticky as she stood up and removed her shirt and bra. His eyes fell to her breasts as she steadied herself against him, holding his bare shoulders and straddling his waist. His cock was wet, glistening and upright and she spread her lips with her fore and middle fingers, her clit brushing his pubic hair as she sank onto him. As always, it took a moment to adjust to his thickness and he held her by the hips, slowly moving her against him, up and down, guiding her and pressing his lips to her breasts. She appreciated the sound of their bodies coming together, the wet noise of his cock inside her, merging with their gasps. His mouth closed around a nipple, pecking it gently before moving to the other and pulling away, brushing both thumbs over the sensitive red tips, making them sheen with saliva. 

She realised, as his lips returned to hers, that he too had forgotten what it felt like to be together like this - without the toys and the kinks and the pain. Her stomach churned with sorrow and she was almost grateful when he wrapped his arms around her naked back and, clutching her close to him, lowered her backward onto the floor, the shag pile soft and comfortable against her skin. He slipped out of her, removing his trousers and underwear from his ankles, before pushing back into her, his body covering hers as she wrapped her legs tightly around his waist. Their lips came together as his breathing intensified, signifying the tell-tale start of his orgasm. She knew he was trying to hold off, to savour the moment and make it last, but eventually his hips bucked against her and he allowed himself to give in, burying himself deep as he clutched her naked body to his, their hips pressed together tightly as he came inside her. She kept kissing him, knowing that when they stopped, they would have to part, and she didn’t know whether she was ready to say goodbye just yet. He likewise seemed reluctant to let her go when his hips finally slowed, but eventually, he slipped out of her, his cock having grown soft inside her warmth. He pulled away, his breath haggard, and kissed her cheek gently. 

She lay for a moment in silence as he rolled off her, her own breath heavy; breasts heaving against her chest as she watched him stand up. “I need to go…” She murmured, getting to her feet. Taehyung turned to look at her, his eyes moving to her pubis as she straightened. She followed his gaze, a little dazedly, to the space between her legs and touched her fingers to the warm semen which dripped down her inner thigh, across her stretch marks and cellulite-puckered skin. 

“Here…” He reached towards the coffee table, past the paperback he had been reading, and handed her a box of tissues. She thanked him quietly, taking a couple to clean herself and trailing it between her thighs and over the bottom of her pubic hair. He put the box down and took a couple for himself, wiping his cock before reaching for his discarded underwear. 

“Um…” She looked around, searching for a trash can in the unfamiliar apartment.

“It’s okay.” He muttered as he adjusted the elasticated waistband of his boxers against his waist and reached for the bundle of tissues. He disappeared into the kitchen and she took the opportunity to get dressed, grimacing a little when she realised her thighs were still a little tacky against her tight jeans. 

Taehyung turned to the wall when he returned, dressing quietly as she slipped on her shoes, wondering if sleeping with him had been the right thing to do. She checked her pocket to make sure her car keys were still there and the little jangle caught his attention, alerting her to the fact she was leaving.

“Can I write?” He asked softly, voice full of uncertainty. 

She was silent for a moment. “If you want to...” She said quietly. If she had thought he looked more mature when he first answered the door, his next expression broke that illusion. His lip quivered slightly, though he barely seemed to notice. “Try not to worry too much…” She whispered, trying to reassure him. 

He followed her out of the living room and into the hallway. “What did you do with the flowers?” He questioned. 

“They’re still at the theatre. I’ll pick them up later.” She turned to face him as they reached the front door and they were silent for a moment.

“I meant what I said in the note.” He looked at her, his voice low. “No matter what happens...”

“I know.” She nodded, knowing it was true. While neither were virgins when they met, they had been each other’s first love, and that would never change. “You too Tae.” She sighed. “Good luck.”

“Break a leg…” He agreed and they both smiled sadly at the shared joke. 

“Goodbye.” She whispered.

***

Please stay tuned for more headcanon content, including from this storyline, coming soon!

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[pumpkinsadlatte]

Danse Macabre

Despite ao3′s best efforts, I’ve answered the call of the “waltzing together” prompt for day two of @nutsandvoltsweek. This wasn't the original idea for this fic, but what I wanted was far more aesthetic and action-oriented than I thought I could do in twenty-four hours. I’m still happy with this, though.

crossposted on ao3, despite the archive’s efforts to the contrary. Please forgive my horrifically cliche title.

Atlesian socialites just adore their dramatic choices in themes for gatherings, and their tastes undoubtedly had spread down to Mantle, as this display at a ballroom in a hotel that had existed since long before the city floating above them quite clearly proves. Citizens of all classes, mingling together in the cavernous room, the event held by the representative from Mantle to the Atlas council: as a way to “ease tensions” stemming from the closure of the kingdom’s borders and the embargo on dust putting pressure on Schnee, pressure that trickled down to its workers.

The idea had been simple: all were welcome, regardless of class, race, occupation. Wear your finest. Conceal your identity with a mask, there is to be no identification at a glance, so there will be no pressure to or not to speak to someone. The idea, of course, is on the surface not terrible, in fact some might even call it a good one. But those people would be sadly mistaken.

It’s laughable, really, that someone could think that a few hours of drinking and dancing could ever be enough to make these pitiful creatures forget the drudgery and depression of their daily lives. And the masks . It would have been comical if it wasn’t so, so painfully cliche.

Though, really, those just made their job here so much easier.

The good doctor leans rather heavily on the wrought-iron railing, green eyes tracing over the truly voluptuous scene of the gathering below, exposed by holes in his mask doubling as eye sockets in the skull of a vulture. Appropriate, considering his current position: perched above the masses and peering down. The base of the mask is bone white, fading into a short, realistic beak, though the intricate gold overlay looks more like a human skull than that of a bird. But it had been the duality that had drawn him to it. Granted, the long black and hood are sorely lacking in originality, but he isn’t exactly here to show off.

“Now, where did you get off to?” he sighs, scanning the ballroom below from his vantage point on the balcony, before he spots Tyrian lurking at the bottom of the stairs. His partner has always looked ravishing in red, whatever form the color’s presence has taken on his body, and while the doctor didn’t exactly question the very long, very red coat’s practicality for hiding stains, he had worried that it would be a tad too flashy for their purposes. Though, it does make him easy to find. “There you are.”

Oh, doctor … Tyrian giggles in his earpiece, and Arthur nods when he sees him glancing around. The councilman’s on the dance floor. Perhaps you should come down here so that we can… go say hello .

Arthur hums, but straightens from where he’s been leaned over the railing and smooths down his clothing before making his way down the staircase. He catches Tyrian around the waist as he passes him, pulling him around and in front of him, settling one hand on Tyrian’s waist and seizing his hand with the other. “If you insist.”

��� Dramatic ,” Tyrian coos, following the other’s lead and resting his free hand on the doctor’s shoulder. His eyes glitter dangerously purple in the sockets of his own skull mask, intricate gold filigree-inspired design over burgundy, dotted all over with tiny red dust crystals -- almost like blood oozing up from the pores of a face -- and edged around the pointed teeth and eye sockets with delicate red trim, still like blood. Part of the gold filigree is actually rose gold, and the rose gold patch takes the shape of a scorpion spreading along his right cheek, with its tail curling up around the eye socket. “You know, doctor, I never did learn to waltz .”

“You’re a quick learner,” Arthur replies easily. “You’ll figure it out.”

Despite his insistence that he didn’t know how to waltz, Tyrian is nothing short of graceful as they sweep into the fray, the pair of them turning around and around with the rest of the dancers as they make their way closer to their target. Every so often, when they brush too close to another pair, he feels a shift against his torso as the end of Tyrian’s tail flexes and flicks, catching hands and wrists and any expanse of skin that he can find. Nicks in the skin just innocuous enough not to betray the poison coursing through their bloodstream.

They keep it up, Tyrian striking at random before they twist away from their unknowing victims, for longer than the hunter thought he’d be allowed to before Arthur’s nails digging into his hand stops him.

“The councilman is behind you on the right side,” the doctor murmurs. Tyrian’s tail may be well-hidden, the majority of the length wrapped around his waist, but there’s not much hiding it when he strikes. “We can’t be striking at random and risk him noticing.”

 Tyrian hums. “Can you get me in front of him?”

 “Not yet. But…” He spins them a little more aggressively than probably necessary, and gives Tyrian a look at their target over his shoulder. “We’ll only have one shot. Do you see a target?”

“He’s kept his whole neck exposed. I could just…” Arthur turns them again, and Tyrian actually growls. “Excuse me!”

 “Can’t risk him seeing you.”

“I think you just like throwing me around.”

“I think you’re projecting.” Another spin, with far more flourish. “He’s just behind you. Take your shot.”

Tyrian beams brightly, and his tail whips out behind him. The councilman’s partner screeches loudly, and the pair scatters as the crowd does, recoiling back away from the scene. They’ve separated and successfully gotten lost in the horrified crowd before the councilman’s body even hits the floor. They make their runs for an exit as the crowd starts to, and their paths cross again at a staff entrance in the far corner of the room, ignored by panicking attendees making their own desperate runs for main doors. Arthur shoulders the door open and yanks Tyrian rather roughly through it behind him, slamming it shut and latching it with the bar meant to prevent guests from wandering into a staff stairwell as the hunter pulls open the door to what used to be an electrical access panel, but was now just a small door to a very convenient void in the wall where they’d stashed changes of clothes.

“The others should start dropping soon,” Tyrian giggles, pulling his red coat off and letting it fall to the floor, exposing his too-open yellow dress shirt and less-than-perfectly tailored black pants before he pulls his usual brown coat on. “With all that adrenaline , I think most of them won’t make it out of the room.”

“Good.” Arthur drops his own coat on top of Tyrian’s discarded one, and rolls up the sleeves of his fittingly-sanguine purple dress shirt. He shrugs off his charcoal vest with its black paisley print and flips it inside out to the solid black of the other wearable side, fastening the second set of gold buttons very quickly before withdrawing his own black jacket from the void in the wall. “None of them are going to last more than a few days anyway.”

“Mmm!” Tyrian laughs as he wraps his tail around Arthur’s waist and yanks him closer in order to better reach his face. He pushes the doctor’s mask up a little, just enough to be out of the way, and crushes their lips together, digging his nails into Arthur’s neck as he does. When the hunter pulls away, he catches Arthur’s lower lip in his teeth for a moment before he lets go. “I think we’d better hurry back home. I don’t know how much longer I can stand looking at you dressed so nicely~ I might just ravish you in the alley outside, instead of waiting for you to get it up enough to have your way with me .”

“Your preferences would disturb any other man,” the doctor points out, reaching up to pull his mask entirely off of his face now that Tyrian’s tongue is no longer down his throat. He doesn’t add that he knows Tyrian isn’t that stupid: it’d be pointless to keep talking when their clock is ticking like this.

“Oh I know !” The snickering that escapes Tyrian is wonderfully chaotic, as if he’s just had the most wicked of ideas, and he licks his lips as he removes his own mask to reveal his gold eyes dangerously dark, with his pupils blown wide. “I suppose I’m just lucky that I’m stuck with you ~”

“Those are your words, not mine.” Arthur hears the door behind them rattling, someone’s trying to get in. “Take the rooftops, I’ll make my way through the kitchens.”

“I’ll try not to have too much fun without you.” Tyrian grins, vaulting up over a slightly higher railing and out of sight, leaving the doctor to withdraw a vial of burn dust and tip it over their discarded coats, a flex of his aura igniting the clothing into a blaze too large to be jumped through before he takes off down the stairs.

[thosewhoharvest]

Self-Sufficiency in the Time of Pandemic

With the current path that we as a planet are on, the facts are becoming increasingly obvious: times are going to get tough, in many ways. Climate Change warning flags, such as rising temperatures, more numerous and intense natural disasters and struggling ecosystems; and problems particular to the human population, such as resource depletion and the current COVID-19 outbreak we are currently facing; make it pretty clear that from here on out, humankind needs to be resourceful in order to survive.

We are busy going through something unprecedented in human history – there have been pandemics and widespread outbreaks before, but never has the world seen such a huge human population, nevermind one which is so interlinked across the globe. When you think about it, getting anxious during these times is only a natural and somewhat necessary response. But once one’s head begins to clear and the reality of the global situation sets in, the important questions begin to emerge: How am I going to look after myself and those I care about?

The measures we should all be taking to “flatten the curve” and slow the spread of the virus in time for healthcare systems to cope – physical distancing, washing our hands, and isolation, are all symptomatic responses to the current crisis. Don’t get me wrong, they are extremely important to how the pandemic unfolds, but I believe we should also be looking further down the line into the future. The world as we know it is changing before our very eyes, at a pace which is frighteningly tangible, and this pandemic is showing us a few key points, which can now no longer be denied:

We live in a global society – whether we like it, or not. This means that we ultimately need to work together, and respect our place in the collective human species, taking the rights of others to heart.

We are painfully dependent on ageing systems which are designed with profit as the key component, not necessarily human or planet welfare. Capitalism has engulfed all spheres of our society, to the point where the very things we need in order to survive – food, water, shelter and medicine, are turned into mechanisms through which we, as “consumers” can be drained for financial gain.

Our international leadership is largely inadequate and, whether on purpose or due to bureaucratic red tape, slow to act and respond in our time of need. Many countries have seen their governments refuse to react to the pandemic sufficiently, meaning that it wasn’t contained when it should and could have been, and as a result things have gotten much worse.

There are good (as in, really really good) everyday people out there who are willing to put their lives at risk to help others. Cashiers, paramedics, janitors, farmers, teachers, doctors, nurses, and many other overlooked professions are in fact the real heroes in this situation – and not the CEOs, directors or owners of companies. Without those who keep our society running through the day-to-day necessities, things would begin to crumble real fast.

Pandemics can affect everyone, regardless of their demographic. whether directly or indirectly, when something like this happens, it affects you – regardless of who you are. Stock markets and currencies are beginning to crash, companies are closing down, borders have been shut, and lockdowns are taking place. Things like these have far-reaching effects, which can be felt everywhere.

That being said, the planet can feel them too – just a few weeks of decreased human activity can lead to huge environmental improvements such as less pollution, returning wildlife and cleaner waters. This is just a little “sneak peak” at what is possible if we change our ways and try to live more harmoniously with nature.

Once this particular chapter of history subsides, how do we protect ourselves – personally, and on communal and global levels from similar things in the future? Ultimately, they are unavoidable and bound to happen again, be it in a different way or form. Once we accept that there are elements we cannot control, we can begin to look at what can be done to minimise our own suffering, and that of those in the same boat as us, at the hands of such disasters.

Look After Yourself: Strengthen That Immune System

This virus might subside, but chances are that it will be back, or another will take its place soon enough. So you need to fortify your body’s natural defences in order to give them the best chance of fending off such things. This boils down to one thing: keep healthy. Organic fruit and vegetables bring none of the poisons or chemicals that conventional produce carry with them, and often contain more vitamins and antioxidants. In particular, things like garlic, chillies, ginger, broccoli and citrus fruit are great turbo-chargers of the immune system. The fresher your food, the more nutrients it contains, and the better it is for you – so avoid canned or prepackaged produce where possible.

Local is Lekker

In South Africa, we have a saying that “Local is Lekker” – it essentially means that what comes from nearby is great; and it couldn’t be more on point or relevant than right now. By choosing things from local suppliers, businesses, farms, and organisations, you are not only decreasing reliance on the transportation system, but also “voting” with your coin against multinational corporations. Of course, the more local you can get, the better – ultimately, you should aim to be growing as much of your own food as possible. For some, this may mean growing a basil plant on their balcony, for others, perhaps a bed of tomatoes and garlic in their garden. Do what you can, with what you have. We recently began offering food garden design, consultation and establishing services, so if you are interested, please do contact us. Otherwise, support your local farmer and get to know where your food is coming from – it is a great step in not only learning how it’s grown, but also in becoming aware of what you are eating and how it reaches you. We deliver weekly boxes of our fresh organic produce to people nearby every week. Read more about or boxes, or order here.

Water is Life

Without water, we’re in trouble – just ask any Capetonian about the struggle. Having narrowly missed day zero, we can all attest to the importance of this liquid in our lives. Ensuring that you have a good supply or reserve of clean, drinkable water is of utmost importance. Setting up rainwater and dew harvesting can be done extremely easily and fairly cheaply – whether using small tanks to catch rainwater from gutters, catching your bathing water to water your garden.

Take Shelter

If you are among the lucky who have a good roof over their heads, take a moment to appreciate it, and consider how you can improve your dwelling. If there were to be a nearby disaster such as a flood or fire, how would it hold up, or perhaps instead, what is the contingency plan? If you are looking to set up a home somewhere, how can you construct it in such a way that it requires as little new resources as possible, and makes use of what is around? Small changes, such as using natural building materials, simple designs or even just taking note of the prevailing wind can have rather big impacts on a home, and are often overlooked.

Avoid Blackout

Technology plays a huge role in our lives – beyond communication and business, we rely on it to keep our food cold, light up our homes, drive our vehicles and make our stuff. All it takes is a little “Stage 2 Load-shedding” from your friendly neighbourhood power supplier to remind you how dependent we are on it. Although going entirely off-grid is becoming cheaper at a rapid rate, it is still largely out of the financial question for most people. But that doesn’t mean that you can’t take certain smaller measures in order to reduce your reliance on the grid. Depending on your financial position, you can take various steps – install a solar geyser to get electricity-free hot water on tap, buy or make simple solar lamps to light up your house (it’s really easy – look it up), sell your fridge and replace it with a gas alternative, or even just put together a little solar oven (we made one out of an old window and some planks – it cooks brownies like a charm!).

Wash Your Hands

Keeping things clean is a must. But don’t let that fool you into thinking that stockpiling toilet paper and hand sanitiser is necessary. Firstly, that just creates a shortage (do you see the self-fulfilling prophecy here?) and secondly, if worst came to worst and all the toilet paper in the world were to run out, you could use water like the entire continent of Asia is still largely doing after centuries). What is important is finding a way to maintain good hygiene and prevent illnesses from coming into your home and body. The good news is that soap, hand sanitiser, shampoo, and even general house cleaners are really easy to make with very simple, cheap and biodegradable ingredients. Good friends of ours, Guerrilla House, hold frequent soap-making workshops in Cape Town, and there is a plethora of online resources which can teach you how it’s done.

All these steps, however small they may be, add up and create a ripple effect, which although may seem immeasurable, can grow into a huge wave, given the right tide. So my advice is this: prepare yourself. Don’t freak out about the toilet paper, and don’t panic in general. But take time to think about how you can reduce not only your financial and environmental footprints, but also your reliance and dependence on the systems that surround you. And when you do need to depend on them, do it consciously and with full understanding and awareness of the implications it has. Be selective about how you “vote” with your spending – support those near to you, both geographically and socially speaking, and in so doing help build the network of interdependence we all need in order to survive. Because if the governments of the world aren’t going to look after all of us, then we will do it ourselves.

– Nevau, one of those who harvest

[missbrightsky]

Bitch Is A Five Letter Word

Fics Masterlist

Previous Chapter

Chapter 4: Visitation Hours

Mor had recovered enough to leave the interrogation room with Feyre, the latter insisting that she could run and get her friend some tissues. Mor was grateful but assured her it was unnecessary. She had enough practice of shaking off her dark past and returning to her usual happy self.

Feyre knew what was coming next and would need some of Mor’s tenacity to help her get through it. When the pair emerged from the hallway into the main room of the precinct, Cassian and Azriel got to their feet to join them in Rhys’s office where Amren already was.

It was a bit crowded in the small room so Feyre opted to perch on the desk beside Rhys’s chair, Amren remained standing, Mor and Cass took the couch while Az leaned against the windowsill.

Rhys took a deep breath, hoping to carefully navigate the coming conversation but Cass decided to open his big, fat mouth.

“I think you need a security detail with you when you’re not with us. If not one of our officers, maybe someone from a private company, Rhys can afford it.”

Feyre looked ready to snap at Cass but Mor interceded for her with a sharp slap to the back of his head.

“Ow, fucking hell, Mor,” he grumbled rubbing the tender spot.

“I am not being followed 24/7 by some goon when you all know I can damn well protect myself,” she crossed her arms. “Case in point, last night.” Her eyes pinned Cass to his spot, the fire in them prevented him from objecting.

“Let’s think this through,” Amren’s cool voice cut through the rising tensions.

They fell into silence, each trying to come up with a solution that wouldn’t involve Feyre biting their heads off. They all knew what her piece of shit ex did to her, locking her up and only letting her out when he said so and surrounded by a guard.

Granted, Feyre did know how to protect herself. Everyone in the room has gone toe to toe with her and only Az was undefeated. She was a natural borne fighter, through and through.

But natural fighting ability was nothing when a gunshot could end Feyre’s life when she least expected it.

Being on the force for over a decade meant that they’ve seen every manner of murder involving guns. From the unpredictable accidents that happened in quiet suburbs to violence between rival gangs, everyone bleeds the same shade of red.

Feyre was the first to break the silence. “I’ll stay on all the major streets, no more shortcuts.”

Everyone but Rhys murmured their approval. She turned to him with an expectant eyebrow raised.

He sighed, knowing he was outnumbered. It wasn’t that he hated the idea, it was actually a good start. Hybern was sticking to smaller, less populated areas and her staying on busy streets would provide a fair amount of cover and protection.

Rhys nodded, rubbing small circles on her back to let her know that he was not happy about the idea but also not totally against it.

“Would you be ok with being home or with one of us before dark?” Az asked.

Feyre paused, considering.

“At least until we get a better handle on Hybern,” he amended.

“And how long would that take?”

Az broke eye contact at that, biting his lip in an uncharacteristic show of uncertainty. Rhys knew that Az was trying his hardest to break into the gang and gain an inside informant, but every day was the same failure. The losses were beginning to weigh on his detectives’ mind.

“We’re not sure.”

It was Feyre’s turn to sigh, she knew she wasn’t going to walk out of this room completely in control of her life. It was already bad enough that a new, dangerous gang leader was targeting her, but she didn’t want to lose her hard-earned freedom.

“Fine.”

The tension melted from the room; a compromise has been reached. Feyre and Rhys both looked unhappy, but they could both swallow it. Az needed to get a handle on Hybern faster, his mind already spinning with new ideas to try and infiltrate them.

Feyre and Rhys had begun a staring contest, silently communicating in a way only they could. The rest took that as their signal to leave, giving the couple time to adjust to the new dynamic in their relationship.

The door swung closed, cutting off Mors’ worried glance.

They stayed assessing each other for a few moments, gauging the various emotions running through their faces. Rhys broke eye contact and circled his hands around her waist, pulling her lean frame into his lap. She settled into his arms, the various pins on his jacket slightly jabbing into her side. Feyre didn’t mind if it meant she got to steal a few more moments of his day from him.

Seconds ticked by, reminding them that the world continued outside of the small room.

“I know you are not him.”

Rhys shuddered at her declaration, pressing his cheek into her temple, arms tightening around her. Even her telling him that he was not Tamlin, the heavy feeling in his gut refused to dissipate.

Feyre was such a bright light in his life and he couldn’t imagine anything or anyone being able to snuff it out. It killed him to think that someone nearly did, in her past and last night.

“I know you’re not happy with this plan,” his voicing dropping to just above a whisper, “but it’s just until we can get a handle on Hybern.”

She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to press down the memories that were threatening to break the surface of her consciousness. Memories of an angry voice barring her from the outside world. She released a slow breath, reminding herself that she is still free, but there are too many people that she loves in her life to endanger herself needlessly.

“I understand. I love you.”

“I love you too.” Rhys pressed a bruising kiss to her lips, trying to pour all of his love and understanding into it. Feyre returned the kiss with equal intensity but broke it off too early, he groaned at the loss of her lips.

“Remember that there is a whole precinct of officers out there,” she teasingly, her breath still minty from this morning, brushing his cheek. He grumbled, wishing that he could send them all away.

Feyre gracefully untangled herself from his arms and got to her feet, placing a final peck on his lips.

Rhys followed her lips until he was halfway out of his chair when at that point, she placed a hand on his chest and shoved him to sit back down. Feyre threw a gently chastising look his way as she gathered her bag and swept out of the office, off to start her day at the studio.

Rhys watched as she wove through the desks, tossing casual goodbyes to her friends on her way out.

He shook his head, knowing that what she could do to his body would be the death of him.

 Rhys flicked his wrist, tossing the ball high into the air so that it barely grazed the ceiling.

Over and over.

His mind was in a far place, playing and replaying a night from over a decade ago. No matter how long it has been, the anger never faded. He could so clearly see a passed out Mor underneath a half-naked Eris, him so close to doing irreparable damage to his bright, bubbly cousin.

How Rhys left that room with Eris still alive is unknown to him. His vision was blurred red and his blood sang with the promise of violence. He knew he needed to get Mor out of there so all the satisfaction he could get was throwing Eris halfway across the room to slam into the wall hard enough to leave a dent.

He caught the ball and squeezed hard, trying to stomp down the thrum of hatred that was building up in his chest. He knew what he needed to do.

Rhys stood from his desk and delicately set down the ball to prevent him from sending it through the window that overlooked the street below. As he strode to the door, he tugged the edges of his jacket to straighten out any wrinkles and slipped on the mask of imposing police chief.

“Detective Noctis,” he said approaching his adoptive brothers’ desk, “I need you to come to the hospital with me to question the Vanserra brothers.” Their names were like poison in his mouth.

Az’s usually impassive face hardened to a level below frigid, his amber eyes snapping with disgust. Mor trusted him with the information of that night years after it happened. She knew that if Az or Cass had learned sooner, they would have hunted him down and gotten themselves in more trouble than their family could dig them out of.

“I want to go with you,” a determined voice came from behind him, he turned to see his blonde lieutenant standing in a wide stance with her arms crossed. Mor was unwilling to back down and be told to stay at the precinct.

“I’ve known him the longest, he might be willing to talk to me,” she added.

Rhys and Az forced themselves to not share a look. Mor was strong, maybe stronger than anyone Rhys knew but they still worried about her facing her past attacker.

“Ok, you and Az will go.”

Az looked to his chief and then to her, dipping his head in the slightest of nods. He got up from his desk, “I’ll drive.”

Mor returned his nod and started for the door.

Before Az could follow, Rhys lightly touched his shoulder. “Watch out for her,” and removed his hand.

Az’s shoulders pulled back slightly, his posture a bit taller, ready to protect his friend. His long strides had him at her side in seconds and took the lead, guiding her to his patrol car.

Instead of the bulky SUVs that the other officers drove, Az’s detective position afforded him a nondescript, black Dodge Charger. Fast and easy to maneuver in a city, it allowed him to follow his suspects without drawing too much attention.

Soon the pair was counting down the blocks to the public hospital where the Vanserra brothers were being held under heavy guard. As soon as they got the green light from the attending doctors, they would be moved to Ghost Isle Maximum Security Prison.

Just of the north coast of Velaris, a sentence to The Prison was a good as death. Most that walked into there didn’t walk back out, not in this lifetime. It was not normal procedure for assault, but the brothers were too valuable to be kept in the minimum-security jail that was just outside the city limits.

Rhys wasn’t sure what connections Hybern had or how high they went but he didn’t want to take any chances at losing what could be a turning point in getting a handle on the gang.

Mor had stayed silent the whole ride, Az unwilling to push her into a conversation, letting her prepare to see her old tormentor in whatever way she needed.

She was the first out of the car as soon as he parked but stood rooted in place, staring at the entrance.

Az took his place at her side, letting her decide when to move forward. Mor released a slow exhale and forced herself to walk forward, not allowing her steps to falter.

He followed a half step behind, ready to back her up no matter what was about to transpire.

They flashed their badges at the front desk, an older nurse scrutinizing them before leading them through the maze of halls and alcoves to where the perpetrators were being treated.

Three officers from the department were stationed with them, one each inside the rooms that faced each other and one in the hallway.

Officer Alvaro snapped a crisp salute to his superiors before returning to the paperwork he had on his lap.

“Any trouble?”

“None, sir. They have both been quiet, hardly even answering the doctor’s questions. No visitors either, other than the nurses that make their rounds.”

“Thank you.”

Az turned to Mor at this point, “Which one would you like to start with?”

“Cairn.”

Officer Alvaro pointed the pair to the door on the left side of the hall. Mor entered first, her spine stiff and her face calm.

“Officer Haywood, we have a few questions for Mr. Vanserra here, why don’t you go get yourself a cup of coffee?” Az offered.

The officer nodded and took the clipboard she was writing on. The heavy door swung shut behind her and low voices followed by retreating footsteps echoed down the hall.

Az turned his eyes on the man handcuffed to the bed. He was restrained at the hands and ankles with straps that were usually reserved for psych patients, but I guess he had to be some type of crazy to try and take Feyre without a fight.

Like his brother, Cairn Vanserra had auburn hair cropped close to his head and amber eyes, but he was less bulky than his brother, leaner and wirier in his build. Cairn eyed the detective and lieutenant, some color draining out of his tanned cheeks at the ice he saw in their faces.

“How do you feel, Mr. Vanserra?” Az started politely, no sense in getting him riled up.

Cairn pressed his lips together and broke eye contact, opting to stare at the closed blinds.

“Oh, come now, I just want to make sure the doctors are treating you with respect and the nurses aren’t forgetting any meals. You may have made a very stupid move but that’s no reason for you not to be treated like an adult. Only if you stop sulking like a teenager, however.”

A small grin flickered at the corner of Cairn’s mouth. Az sometimes got his information by stone-cold manners and dry humor, rather than force and pain.

“Food is what you expect from a hospital, but the nurses make up for it a bit by being a nice piece of eye candy,” Az forced himself not to frown at objectification. “Doc says that there’s no permanent damage, no thanks to that crazy bitch from last night.”

“That crazy bitch is my friend, and put you spectacularly on your ass last night, I would be careful what you say about her,” Mor hissed, her patience was already low with him but his crude way of talking wore it down more.

Cairn barred his teeth at the reminder that he was thoroughly beaten, “She caught me off guard is all, the boss told me it was gonna be an easy snatch and grab.”

“Your boss clearly didn’t do his homework,” Az countered, “Speaking of, how is Hybern these days? Word is he doesn’t like how close we’re getting.”

At that, Cairn fully paled and turned his eyes to the blanket covering him. “You know he’ll kill me if I say anything.”

“And what if we could protect you? Get you somewhere he can’t find you?”

“Impossible, he has contacts all over the city,” he winced, realizing that he gave away too much information already. “Plus… he knows where my little girl lives,” he added in quiet horror, wondering what would happen to her if Hybern ever found out that he was talking this much.

“Ah you underestimate us, Mr. Vanserra. Chief Noctis has his own contacts and can verify that you and your daughter would be safe.” Az was willing to give this much away, it wasn’t a secret that Rhys had connections and power, everyone in the city had heard of his family.

Mor remained silent, letting Az lead the conversation. She had only ever seen Cairn in passing, he was usually too young for his older brother to bother with him.

Cairn looked like he was considering taking the offer, then shook his head. “I’ve seen what he can do, how he is amassing his power, there is no hiding from him.”

At the reaffirmation of his fear of Hybern’s power, Az decided to switch tactics. He still had other leads to follow up on today and wanted to get to the other brother across the hall before he somehow found out that Mor was close to him. They needed the element of surprise.

“Well, if you’re so sure that you can’t help, as soon as the doc gives you the all-clear, you’ll be free to go with a court date for aggravated assault,” Az paused, he was bluffing about Cairn walking free. The brothers already had two cells with their name on it at The Prison, but he didn’t need to know that. If Cairn cooperated and gave them the information they so desperately needed, he could be put into a safe house with his daughter rather than a cold cell.

“That is, if you make it that long.”

Cairn’s head snapped up trying to understand what the detective meant. The heart monitor betrayed his increased pulse, his fear of Az’s next words.

“I wonder what Hybern would do to you if it leaked out that one of his men spilled his guts to the police. His headquarters location, his plans, his numbers. I bet you wouldn’t last the night.” And your daughter wouldn’t last the week, the words left unsaid in the air.

Az hated that he had to imply that an innocent girl would be hurt but he needed Cairn to want to cooperate. If he could get him on board, then Az would stop at nothing to make sure no harm would come to the girl.

Cairn’s face twisted into a snarl and he yanked hard, over and over at his restraints. “You—you, fuck, don’t let anything happen to her!” the words instead of coming out as a shout, they were broken by a sob, tears shining in the corners of his eyes. This man may be a Hybern gang member, but he loved his daughter to the point that he was ready to break every bone in his body if it meant forcing his way out of the restraints.

Hopefully, Eris across the hall hadn’t heard his brother’s outburst but time was running out.

“I’ll do it, I accept your protection, for whatever it’s worth. I want my daughter with me though.”

Az smiled; he had his informant. More questioning would come later. “Thank you for your cooperation. I will let Chief Noctis know and we’ll have you and your daughter safely hidden by the end of the week, but,” he leaned over Cairn, his eyes darkening, “I expect you to hold up your end of the bargain soon.”

Cairn swallowed and nodded, ready to accept his role.

Az smiled, but it was far from reassuring. It was the smile of Rhys’s top detective, the one known for getting information out of anyone, cold and calculating.

Mor turned for the door and stepping into the hallway, nodding to Alvaro. Az followed and paused with his hand on Eris’s door, looking to Mor for confirmation that she was ready.

Squaring her shoulders, Mor nudged him out of the way and twisted the knob. Instead of her eyes going to Eris in the bed, she focused on the chair that Officer Miller occupied.

“Leave us.” No trace of emotion was on her face, in her voice.

Officer Miller quickly left the room, not wanting to be on the wrong side of his lieutenants’ temper.

Mor took the empty seat, crossing her legs with irreverence and finally acknowledged the man tied to the bed.

Eris looked at her in what could have been shock, but deeper it was predatory recognition. The mouse that he had stalked and nearly caught years ago had fallen back into his paws. Instead of feeling uncomfortable about his situation and his complete inability to move from the bed, Eris settled back into the pillows, a feral grin twisting his mouth into something hideous.

Az stayed near the door, leaning against the frame, observing the silent battle between the lieutenant and her criminal tormentor.

Eris seemed content to break the quiet tension first. “Morrigan Atrium, I heard that you became a pig but how nice of you to come here and verify it for me.”

Mor’s facial expression never changed, no flickers of her internal emotions breaking through. She simply sat and waited for him to talk himself into silence.

“What has it been? More than a decade, certainly. How are your dear parents? I miss them so, we used to have such fun together.”

His grin turned dark, a precursor to the black words that were about to spill out of his mouth. “And how are all your old friends? I haven’t gotten a chance to see them since the party. Now that night, was just too much fun.”

Az locked up every muscle in his body to prevent him from leaping at the man. This was not his fight.

Mor stayed statue still. No crack in the stone armor she had donned over the years when the days were hard.

Eris was slowly losing his blasé cool, his face turning an ugly red under his olive skin tone. He was the one who was always in control, who always had the upper hand.

Mor tilted her head slightly to the side, analyzing the pathetic man who would say anything to get under her skin.

“It has been too long, Eris, what have you been up to?” She broke her silence unexpectedly, his face unable to keep the surprise off of it.

“Oh, you know, working here and there. Doing pretty much whatever I please,” whoever I please his eyes added on with a rake up and down her body.

“And how’s Hybern? I hear he’s not too happy with us getting so close to him, I’m sure it’s starting to get on his nerves. Does he blame you or do you kiss his ass too much for him to care?”

Eris’s face had taken on a hint of purple at the low blow, Mor knew exactly how to hit him. He may have harassed her for years, but for every stab he took at her, she filed away his reactions and interactions with the world around him.

The Vanserra parents were brutal. Cutthroat. Where the Atrium’s used razor-sharp words to keep their children in line with societal expectations, the Vanserra’s preferred a more physical and lasting way to remind their children of their place in the world. It wasn’t uncommon to see Eris and his brothers sporting long sleeves in Velaris’s blistering summers’, most thought it was the family’s standard of style.

Mor knew different. She saw how he stiffened up around his parents, how if he wasn’t careful, his sleeve would ride up revealing dark bruises that looked like handprints. The abuse didn’t stop Eris from acting out, it just made him more careful.

Another side effect was the extreme amount of ass-kissing he did to his father. Anything to please Beron Vanserra. Which made it an easy pressure point for Mor to hit. Eris was a born and bred brown-noser with a taste for violence that he inherited from his father. Being a part of one of Velaris’s ruling families allowed him to get away with anything, even the almost rape of another family’s daughter.

“Hybern is doing quite well, no thanks to you and your department. As I’m sure you already know, we’ve gotten away with a few stunts. It’s almost hilarious how far behind you all are,” Eris turned to look at Az, “a pity that none of your street spies have gotten in our favor. How frustrating it must be.”

Az had even more practice than Mor at keeping his emotions off his face. He learned from an early age to never show your true face. It was better that way.

“Well if you came here for information, I’m afraid you’ll be disappointed. Hybern hates snitches and I like my facial features right where they are.” “Pity,” Mor commented, “I guess the inmates of The Prison will just have to do it for you.”

Eris’s face went from red to white.

“Oh, that’s right. On his rise to power, Hybern was more than happy to shove the other gangs right into police hands. We might have to thank him one day for that, if we ever meet.”

“You can’t,” Eris breathed, “My family won’t allow this.”

Mor cocked her hear, a low chuckle escaping her lips. “I’m not too worried about your parents. Not sure when you last talked to them, but they’ve been losing power in Velaris’s upper circles the past few years.”

She flicked her eyes to meet his. “Chief Noctis, however, has enjoyed a constant rise to power, continuously bolstered by his family name and his hard work keeping the citizens of this city safe. He has no doubt that DA Kallias Hiems, you remember him don’t you, will move your case right along, approving of you being kept in The Prison until you prove yourself useful or you are sentenced there for the rest of your life. Attacking my friend last night was only the tip of the iceberg, I’m sure it will take us no time to dig up enough against you to keep you there.”

Mor stood, straightened and brushed off her uniform, like being in his presence had dirtied it.

“Now, any questions? We have a busy day putting your boss behind bars.”

Eris could only stare at her, struck silent by his impending future in a cold cell, far, far away from any protection he had with Hybern or his family.

“No? Well, I guess I’ll see you in court,” a cold smile graced her lips, “or maybe not. I think I rather like my last memory of you tied to this bed, unable to move of your own free will. Maybe you feel a fraction of what I went through on that night. Maybe you’ll think of this day for the rest of your life, haunting you like the way you haunted me for so long.

“Never again though. Good-bye, Eris, enjoy rotting in hell.”

His strangled curses were suddenly muffled by her shutting the door and walking out of the hospital into the bright autumn day.

Next Chapter

[iamapoopmuffin]

Victims With Numbers

Fandom: Nanbaka/Corpse Party (crossover) Genre: Horror Characters: Hajime Sugoroku, Samon Gokuu, Kiji Mitsuba, Kenshirou Yozakura, Jyugo, Uno, Nico, Rock, Tsukumo, Liang, Upa, Qi, Honey, Trois, Musashi, Sachiko Shinozaki, Ryou Yoshizawa, Yuki Kanno, Tokiko Tsuji, Yoshikazu Yanagihori, Yoshie Shinozaki, Takamine Yanagihori, some OCs to take the role of Kizami later on instead of actual Kizami Includes major character death.

Chapter 15 of ?

It was clear that they couldn't bring Motomu with them, or allow him to come into contact with anyone else, especially people unable to defend themselves. While Liang himself could undoubtedly take the kid (despite his size - he was clearly an athlete for some school team or another, and a whole head taller than Rock), there were likely plenty of other innocent kids here, people from Motomu and Keiko's own schools, who would not be able to fight off a much larger teen with a professional grade hunting knife. Where he got the knife in the first place was a question probing at the back of his mind as well. Did he bring that knife to whatever location the kids were at before they got trapped here? Did he find it here?

What did he do? How could he prevent Motomu from hurting other victims trapped here without putting him into a position where he'd most likely not survive? For the time being, the best he could do would be to subdue him, maybe find a guard to help deal with this. He certainly wasn't going to kill the kid. He may have  been driven insane by this place, but perhaps there was still a way to help him.

"Get away from Big Brother!"

The shout took him by surprise. Keiko wasn't in front of him any more, and someone was taking position behind his back. Jolting into action, Liang turned, releasing his captive with one hand and holding it out to stop the knife Keiko had tried to plunge between his shoulder blades. The blade slashed across his palm as if it was nothing, and his hand closed around hers. Keiko's expression was wild, full of rage, fear and confusion. She didn't understand or couldn't accept what her brother had become, and, struggling with her conflicting emotions, she had picked up the hunting knife. She tried to press against his grip, drive the knife onwards, but he could feel her hesitation. She didn't really want to hurt him.

"Keiko. Stop."

"You're hurting big brother!"

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. He was going to hurt you."

"He wasn't! He wouldn't!"

Liang wasn't sure what he could say to her. He shook his head. "It's this place. It's done something to him, I'm sure of it. Can you feel it? The darkness? It's like tar. We'll find him help, he isn't beyond it." She clearly hadn't come to the conclusion that he'd hurt their friends, so why cause her more pain than necessary? It would run the risk of losing her as an ally, and losing the ability to help her out. It seemed to work, though. She relaxed her grip on the knife.

"We can help Big Brother?"

"I know people who can help. The guards from the prison I came from - yes, he's right, I'm currently serving time for a crime, but I won't hurt you, I promise. The guards will make sure no-one poses a risk to each other, and they'd know more about this sort of thing than me."

"Guards...will...will they arrest him?"

"If that's the safest thing to do, yes."

Sadly, she looked past him, to her brother, met his eyes, and gave a slight nod.

Motomu twisted, successfully pushing Liang off his back. He landed hard, jarring his arm, and the teenager reacted quickly. In moments, Motomu had taken the knife from his sister's hand, and it was his turn to try and plunge it into the inmate's back. This time, he was able to avoid injury, rolling and kicking out at Motomu's knee. Not stopping to see if his counter was successful, he scrambled to his feet and dashed for the door. He felt someone grab at his hair and hit their hand hard with his own, dislodging them quick. He stopped at the door, glancing back to Keiko. He couldn't leave her behind.

She was running after him, something clasped in her hands. whatever she was holding, she was gripping it tight enough that it was causing her hands to bleed. If he wasn't mistaken, it was a shard broken off one of the cracked mirrors. She must have found it on the floor. Her brother was getting to his feet behind her, a look of rage on his face, which was fair enough, he supposed. Looked like the kick to his knee had set him off balance after all. Reaching through the door, Liang grabbed hold of Keiko's wrists and hauled her through to the hallway. Motomu gave chase, and just before he reached the door, Liang slammed it shut. He heard a sound as the boy, unable to halt his momentum in time, slammed into the door and presumably tumbled to the ground. The inmate pressed himself against the door and kept his hand on the handle, trying his best to keep the door firmly shut. His stomach cramped painfully, and not for the first time since he'd been stuck here. He curled over slightly, but tried not to let his discomfort show too much. Unfortunately, he was quite sure he would wet himself in the next few minutes if he wasn't careful.

Keiko was crying again, sobbing quite hysterically this time. Hesitantly, he reached for her, but she slapped his hand away and shook her head. "I'm sorry!" She yelled at him. He supposed she was apologising for trying to stab him.

"Kei-"

"I'm so, so sorry! I didn't...I don't want to...I...I..."

"You're scared. I know. Just try and calm down."

"No!" She shook her head again, more frantically this time. "Big brother has always been nice to people! He's never hurt a person before!"

"But-"

"But nothing!"

"This place has affected him."

She froze, wiped her eyes. "He...he used to hurt cats. When I was little. He killed a cat. It's my first memory of big brother I still have...He never liked cats. Or dogs. Or birds. Or other animals. He didn't like them. But he never ever ever was that scary! Not like that! Not ever!" Her eyes flew to the mirror shard in her hands. "I hurt him...and I hurt you...and he hurt us...I can't trust him, can I?"

Liang paused, trying to think on how best to respond. "Keiko, we can help him. He's not even trying to open the door. I think, inside, in a part of him that hasn't been poisoned by the darkness around him, he really doesn't want to hurt anyone, just like you didn't."

It would have been convincing had Motomu not then tried to heave open the door. The kid was pretty strong, as Liang had first assumed, and the door jerked against his attempts to hold it shut. He needed to find a way to hold it shut without having to stay here.

"Keiko, go to one of the classrooms and get a chair or an art easel, and bring it back here. We can jam the door shut for a short amount of time. Can you do that for me?"

She shook her head slightly. She was shaking head to toe, eyes fixed on a point over Liang's shoulder.

"Okay...we can fix this, help him, get out of here. We can work together-"

"There's no way out!"

"No, there is! I'm sure of it. I've seen things here that others have said are impossible. I've found people who I was told I would never see again. I promise you, we can do this. We can find a way out. I promise I'll protect you and we'll get out of he-"

Liang cut off with a scream as pain erupted across his shoulder, and he couldn't fight the instinctive reaction to jerk forward, pull away from the door, where Motomu had managed to force it open just enough to get the knife through. The movement, the immediate attempt to get away from the pain while the knife was still in his attacker's hands and technically in another room, made it worse. Made the knife move. It would have pulled out of him completely if Motomu hadn't been ready to burst through and follow up with the initial attack. The extra force of the boy throwing himself at his back had him stumbling, but he managed to keep his footing this time. His injured hand, slick with blood, went back to grab his attacker's wrist, keep him from moving or removing the knife any more, but his hand was wet and slippery, and with some effort the school boy was able to pull away, and of course was able to pull the knife free too.

The obvious downside to having the knife pulled out was the bleeding, but the obvious upside was that he didn't have to worry as much about jostling the boy around too much. He could fight back without risking further injury to himself. However, with how deep that stab was for a lucky, wild jab, he probably needed to act quickly.

Motomu had decided to act quickly as well. He leaned his full weight forward on Liang, trying to push him down, while also wrapping an arm around his throat. It was an attempt at a headlock, trying to throw him off balance and keep him under control, while also keeping the knife positioned somewhere above his head so it still presented a danger.

It wasn't the strongest headlock he'd ever been caught in.

Liang pushed back, keeping his back as straight as he could as Motomu tried to force him over, and tried to raise his hands to trap his assailant's. His left moved no problem, and he wrapped his arm around the one leading to the knife, keeping it pinned in place as best he could. The right arm shifted only a little before the pain in his shoulder interrupted him. Damn it. That would be a problem if he needed to defend himself further. For now, he was able to keep the knife away from his skull. He hooked his foot behind Motomu's and twisted. Though he was smaller than his opponent, he knew how to move to stretch him out, loosen his grip and slip through. And as expected, it was easier to get out of than the headlock that man from Cell 3 tried to put him in, or any he'd been through in training. The boy's lack of experience in a proper life or death fight showed through. It didn't take Liang long to get behind him and kick his legs out from under him.

As soon as Motomu hit the floor, Liang had another choice to make - incapacitate him, or take Keiko and run, and this time, he chose the former. If he just ran, Motomu would chase after them again, and he would be able to ambush them. With the teenager already starting to pick himself up, Liang launched himself forward, planning to take care of this quickly. Motomu managed to get to his feet and turn to face him before Liang hit him. The first two attacks drove the teenager into the wall, but he was able to block and counter the third, sending the inmate back a step. Reacting to the expression on the inmate's face, Motomu scoffed.

"I'm the best in mixed martial arts at my school. I've won a lot of regional competitions as well. I've not yet met a fighter better than me."

"...I'm not intimidated by you." Honestly, Liang had absolutely no concerns regarding Motomu's fighting ability. He might be better than the average teenager, but he still had obvious inexperience. If anything, judging by the boy's stance and movements, either he was off his best due to his experiences in this haunted school, or he'd cheated a couple of times in his competitions.

The ensuing fight ended as expected, at least to Liang. Though Motomu had been able to get a few good hits in, he was now unconscious, and Liang had seen fit to confiscate the knife. It would probably terrify some poor innocent if he was seen holding it in his hand as he wandered around, so he decided to conceal it within his jumpsuit. No way was he leaving it lying around for someone else to find. It had done enough damage in the hands of those siblings. As well as the knife wounds Liang was sporting from what had just gone down, during that last scuffle Motomu had managed to get a pretty good hit in on his stomach and a good grip on one of his earrings. His earlobe was torn, not all the way through, but it was still none too pleasant. Pressing his hand to his injured shoulder, he leaned against the wall and let himself slide to the floor, getting his breath back as best he could. It was uncomfortable there on the floor, and not just because of the level of disrepair in the building. His jumpsuit may have been a bit wet at this point, which he would love to blame on sweat from exerting himself in the fight. It was, in some part, due to blood, but it was also in due in part to the fact that he'd gone into a fight while desperate for the bathroom.

It looked like the bleeding from his palm and shoulder had calmed down. He figured he could keep going without worrying about losing too much blood, at least. He glanced around, looking for Keiko, making sure she'd been out of range of the fight.

She wasn't there.

Of course. It had been too quiet. She must have run off somewhere when the fighting began. Well, he would need to scour the building once more at least to try and find a way out of there. Heaving a deep sigh, Liang got to his feet and walked toward the classrooms on that floor.

[mathiaskillmaster]

Rebirth of the Dragon (After GOT / Daenerys Targaryen) Part 6

Westeros, Winterfell Although summer had fallen, temperatures in the independent kingdom of north had remained rather low, although the snow had disappeared to give way to the green heaths and coniferous forests rocked by the wind. In Winterfell, capital of the northern kingdom, life had resumed and gradually recovered from the terrible battle that had taken place against the Night King and his army of the dead, now a threat from the past. In the courtyard of the castle, servants and other occupants were engaged in their daily tasks, while patrol guards proceeded to their usual rounds. Standing in front of the big fireplace in her personal office, the young queen in the north, Sansa Stark, dressed in her big black dress and her warmly fur-covered shoulders, was pacing, circling, her hands behind her back, and seemed to be waiting, looking moribund. On her desk, among the many documents, was a letter whose seal, that of the hand of the king, had been broken. Sansa had read the letter sent recently by Tyrion Lannister, and what she had read there had more than disconcerted her. Daenerys Targaryen is .... alive? Just thinking about it made her shudder again. Just the idea that she can return to Winterfell on the back of her dragon to seek revenge. Despite having archers, Sansa did not know if all of Winterfell's garrison, no matter how large, would be sufficient in the face of the devastating anger of an adult dragon who had proven himself capable of destroying an entire fleet of war ships and ravaged half of King's Landing. Sansa did not know what her brother Bran was going to do about it, but knowing that her kingdom no longer depended on the king's orders, she decided to do something for her. She would not take the risk of seeing Winterfell and the north be burned to the ground if she could stop it before it happen. Returning to her desk, Sansa took her pen, dipped it in ink and began writing a missive. She had heard from her sister Arya about the existence of this sect of dreadful assassins at Braavos. ********* Essos, approaching Asshai The end of the journey was approaching for the ironborn ship which had been flying on the sea for almost a month now from Volantis. Already, the first signs of Asshai's approach were noticeable. The waters, usually of a natural blue, had gradually faded to become dark, gray and opaque. Glancing over the rail, Yara shivered. She, who had participated in many expeditions at sea, showed for the first time a little doubtful. Sometimes she could see weird fishes, phosphorescent, appearing and disappearing like ghosts under the surface. She dared not imagine what kinds of creatures could haunt these waters. A thicker mist had risen, snaking over the surface of the water like snakes of smoke. In order to avoid any risk, Yara had reduced the wing, the ship now slipping more slowly in these sinister waters of the end of the world. On the deck, the ironborn sailors had lost their proud and harsh airs, and could not prevent the doubt from expressing themselves on their faces, although the unsullied and the soldiers of the Fiery hand remain strangely calm despite the macabre atmosphere. Among the most superstitious sailors, some came to dread that the ship would reach the end of the world and fall into the great void. Others were convinced that these black, silent waters would eventually lead them into the other world. An ironborn, scared to death, swore on his head that he had heard a disembodied woman's voice whispering his name from the depths of the mist, and even felt an icy breath on his neck. The poor fellow, yet a strong fellow, was found hidden in the bottom of the hold, curled up and shaking like a scared little girl. Daenerys had been forced to stay in her cabin for a good part of the day. For several days now, she had felt more and more tired, despite the nights of rest she was able to take, and also felt, more and more regularly, some sharp pains in her stomach. She could hardly eat, but had to force herself anyway not to lose her strength. Navigating in these haunted waters did not help her much, she too, sometimes having the impression of hearing whispers calling her and hearing something like nails scratching behind the window of her cabin, whose window was now completely fogged. Two nights before, Daenerys had woken up in the middle of the night, screaming in terror so loudly that she had woken up the entire crew, and had been found by Yara and Grey Worm, trembling, tears in her eyes and sweat in her bed. Daenerys had explained to them that she had been awakened by a strange noise in her cabin, and as she opened her eyes, she had seen Jon Snow, standing at the foot of the bed, staring at her with a furious gaze. He had jumped on her, taking a dagger at his belt, blocking her on the bed by grabbing her to the throat and trying to stab her in the stomach, vociferating with a degenerate voice. _ "You should be dead! DEAD, YOU HEAR ME?!" _ "NOOOO JON, STOP! LEAVE ME!!" His voice was his own, but monstrous, and blood began to flow from his eyes, as Dany described, still in shock. She had screamed, struggled with all her strength, but after opening her eyes, Jon had disappeared without leaving any traces. Kinvara explained to Daenerys that the waters surrounding Asshai were filled with the most ancient and obscure magic, and that these forces haunting it take pleasure in tormenting sailors and adventurers daring to venture there, guessing and giving life to their the deepest fear into more than realistic illusions. As a result, Daenerys slept only during the day, and at night remained awake and in the company of a soldier from the Fiery Hand appointed by the priestess to watch over her. Although they are not talkative, she felt reassured to not be alone in her cabin. Face digged by fatigue, Daenerys was lying in bed in her white silk night dress. Kinvara was with her, the priestess sitting beside her on the bed, and examining her to make sure everything was all right. For Kinvara, there was no sign of illness or poisoning of any kind by food or water. Kinvara thought for a moment, turning her attention to Daenerys' aching belly. And if .... a hypothesis crossed her mind and she wanted to check. Delicately placing the palm of her hand on Daenerys's belly, Kinvara seemed to be examining more. Daenerys watched her, quite concerned. After long minutes, Kinvara changed her attitude, her shining irises showing a truth that had just appeared to her, and which seemed to satisfy her. _"Lady Kinvara, what's going on?" Daenerys asked her emphatically. _ "Daenerys stomrborn ...... you are pregnant." the priestess of R'hllor then revealed to her in all honesty. This news fell on the young woman like a flash, making her heart leap in her chest. _ "What ... how .... you .... are you sure and certain?" Daenerys really insisted on this, looking at her belly in turn and feeling it delicately. The priestess was formal and nodded. The young Targaryen was pregnant. Daenerys was more than confused. _ "But ... it's impossible ..." she said with conviction "... I could no longer have children, at least not be able to give birth, because of this witch ..... "and suddenly she froze, remembering to have shared her bed with a particular man, the one who before her, was brought back from the dead by the magic of R'hllor: Jon Snow, the man who had killed her. "... Jon ..." she sighed painfully, a tear pouring down one of her cheeks. "... But .... he killed me .... how can I still be pregnant?" The young fallen queen could not understand anything, but Kinvara made it her duty to explain her, taking her hands in hers. _ "This is the great power that our master has ..." explains the priestess "... his purifying fire not only brought you back, Daenerys stormborn, but also saved the life of this young soul who grows up inside your belly, for such is his will. Rejoice, your grace, that the Lord of light has given you such a miracle. A child born from the union of ice and fire." Ice and fire ..... Did she mention Jon and Daenerys through this symbolic definition? Was it true? After all, Jon had been brought back by the red god too. Jon, through this resurrection, had he been granted by the god the power to free Daenerys from her curse by unite to her? But in that case, why did Jon killed her? Was it also the plan of the red god? Once again, everything was very confusing. She wanted to rejoice, of course, she who for years had thought herself condemned to remain last and see her dynasty disappear with her. But on the other hand, the idea of ​​carrying this child, Jon's, plunged her into a terrible melancholy, and made her relive for a few moments that awful illusion of Jon leaning over her and trying to kill her. How could she look this child in the eyes without thinking of Jon and what he had done to her? No, she dismissed this idea from her mind. It was out of the question for her to judge her future child for the crime committed by his father towards her. She would no longer act like that, she had sworn. ******** Elsewhere on the ship, Shen-zoan had isolated himself in the small corner of the hold that had chosen him to settle during the journey. Although he was offered a more comfortable place to sleep, a simple hanging hammock suited him perfectly. As he had said, after sleeping at the bottom of a well and in a wet cave in the middle of winter, this hammock was for him like the room of a palace. The Yi Ti traveler did not sleep, however. Sitting on the floor of the ship, he was leaning over a wooden box that served as a temporary table, on which he had placed a large sheet of parchment and lit with only a single candle placed beside him. Yara, after reassuring her sailors, had come down to the hold to check that everything was going well and made her way to Shen. Looking over his shoulder without saying a word, she could see the strange letters he had been writing in black ink for a while, like symbols she had never seen before. Shen looked over his shoulder and smiled at him. _"What is it?" she asked, rather intrigued. _ "Oh, that .... it's a poem from my country, in my native language .... I like to write .... it helps me to never forget where I come from." was his answer, shrouded in a touch of nostalgia in his voice. Yara sat next to him, reading the symbols one by one even though she did not understand any of them. The fine line of the pen and the perfectly asymmetrical forms of the letters were almost like art. How was he managed to write with this precision despite the slight pitching of the ship? Shen did not stop surprising. Just yesterday, during the meal, Yara and the others could see him eating with small wooden sticks, which caused the hilarity of some sailors a little morons. Despite such mockery, however, Shen remained very calm, not offended, and simply continued his meal. Daenerys did not really appreciated the mockery about the newcomer and asked Yara to seriously reprimand the men, which she did. In this new free world that would become Essos by her will, Daenerys would also advocate freedom and tolerance of cultures. As he continued to write with that delicacy and astounding precision, Yara stared at Shen's fighting stick for a moment. _ "Your way of fighting ..... how do you do it? Who taught you?" she asked. She then perceived, in Shen's expression, that she had touched a new chord of his past, but yet made him smile. Placing his pen, he decided to tell Yara some of his past. _"All my knowledge, I owe it to my master, Dzian-owan. When he was a child, Master Dzian was puny, shy, constantly persecuted by other children. He was the son of a former soldier, a very hard man, who kept on telling him that the weak had no place in this world. But Dzian refused to brandish a weapon, the idea was repugnant to him, so he decided to create his own way of fighting. At the age of 15, following the death of his father and now alone, Dzian exiled himself to the lands of the north, beyond the plains of Jogos Nhai, where he lived as an hermit. During all these years, Master Dzian developed his new art of combat, the art of fighting without giving death, spending days and nights, training in all weathers. In the wind, the rain, the snow of winter and the overwhelming heat of summer...He added to his art of combat the meditation, and he managed to do so, after spending ten days and ten nights meditating under an old willow, to the perfect union of the mastery of his art, unifying combat and concentration in one and same body, one and same soul. Then one day, while he was looking for wild grasses, he found me in a wicker basket on the edge of a river. I was still a baby, abandoned by my parents and delivered to the wilderness. Having pity, he gathered me and raised me as his own son. When I was old enough to understand, he taught me his art, imposing on me the same conditions, the same trials and the same suffering that he himself had to endure in order to form himself to face this world. He always told me: The characteristic of the warrior is humility. He must think as much about others as about himself. There are strong and weak people in this world, Shen, and it is the duty of the weakest to become stronger, to prove to them this: if you can, they can too. I swore to my master to perpetrate his art wherever I go, and to become an example to the poor. Shortly after, my venerable master died without suffering, in his sleep, carried away by his old age. After having buried him with dignity at the foot of the ancient willow, where he had spent most of his life, I began my journey around the world ..... " Yara had remained silent, having listened to everything in this story. She noticed Shen's wet eye as he recounted, reliving through his words what were the best memories of his life. Abandoned from birth, raised by a stranger who trained him to become a good person. Yara was rather touched by this story and patted the man's shoulder. _"Your master seemed to be a very good man, Shen-zoan, and a great warrior too. I would have love to know him." Yara said frankly. _ "He would appreciate you, I think." Shen replied, "he has always admired women with a strong character, just like you." Yara felt rather flattered by the compliment and both together shared a small laugh. However, Yara's face darkened, looking pensive, and Shen noticed it. _ "Something is disturbing you." _ "It's about Queen Daenerys ..." Yara said without keeping a secret for her new friend "... according to Lady Kinvara, she would be pregnant." _"Well, I do not see how that would be bad news." Shen answered without really knowing why she was showing that worried look. _ "I know ..." she said "... that's not the problem. I'm just worried about her and the baby. When those who killed her will learn that she's alive, I don't think that the life of a mere baby to be born will stop them in their attempt to eliminate her again.They will not take the risk of seeing her return to Westeros with her dragon and a new army to get revenge." Shen-zoan fully understood what Yara meant and reassured her by patting her on the back of her hand. _"We will do what it takes to protect her, because that is the oath we have spoken." _ "PORT OF ASSHAI RIGHT BEFORE!!" suddenly shouted the voice of a ironborn sailor from the deck of the ship. Alerted, Yara, followed by Shen, went back up. Daenerys, also warned by voice, came out of her cabin with Lady Kinvara, covering her shoulders with a purple silk shawl. Grey Worm has advanced to the bow to see the facts. In the misty sky, Drogon's roaring figure appeared, sliding between the clouds like a giant ghost. In front of the ship reducing her sail a little more, the opaque mists of a dark gray dissipated more and more, revealing to the eyes of all in the permanent twilight of these accursed waters and in the light of the full moon, the forms recognizable of fuzzy towers and other strange buildings, all built of black stone. Daenerys swallowed, but remained upright, her head high, while in front of her, came from the fog the legendary and mysterious city from the deep of the world, Asshai, emerging little by little from the mist like the monster coming from a horror tale. Faced with this vision seeming straight out of a nightmare, the sailors remained speechless, eyes round, and some even began to pray the drowned god to protect them. _ "Welcome to Asshai, Daenerys stormborn." proclaimed Lady Kinvara to the young dragon queen. Finally. She was there, supported by her allies and her son, ready to face the new trials of the red god.

[vyladromeave]

Mr. Zvahl has updated!

Chapter 6: Forage and Found

(Read the full thing on AO3!)

(A/N: nbvGJDFSFSD THIS IS SO LATE IM SORRY. It was TECHNICALLY done like a week or so ago but it was under 1k words and i just couldnt Post It mnbdsfghfsd. ANYWAYS now its nearly 2k so hopefully thatll make up for the wait nfdsbghdjsf. i have been Neglecting Zoey so now you have to read So Much about my beautiful elf wife mndsfbhjsfdk. not much else to say, ill edit this if i can think of anything important. Also Once Again gentle reminder tht i would seriously reccomend reading this on ao3 instead because tumblr formatting makes the spacing Whack but whatever man u do u,,,, you do u,,,,,, dshjgsfd ANYWAYS Hope u enjoy!!)

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They had been walking for some time now. She had explained on the way out there that the path used to be much clearer, but too much overgrowth in the area had made reaching difficult. It was still possible, it just took extra time. In their case, it had taken a good half-hour at least. (It could have taken longer, but he wasn’t too good at keeping track of the time these days.)

As they approached he wasn’t quite sure what to expect, but now that they were there, he realized it wasn’t actually that different from what he’d imagined. His only experience in portals were the ones that lead to the nether- it somewhat shocked him to see that this portal wasn’t much different. It was about the same size and shape, though the material was different and it gave off an energy that was much less malevolent. Even then, its aura made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end, and it wasn’t even activated.

“The portal leads to the Irene Dimension. That’s where we believe Aphmau, and all those that went with her, are trapped.” she continued.

He looked to her, silently asking permission if he could get a closer look, although she didn’t seem to notice. He took it as a yes. He approached the portal to get a closer look while she talked.

“I’ve been working for nearly a decade to find a way to open it again. Nothing has worked so far, but I’m getting close. I can feel it.”

“How so?”

She was somewhat thrown off by how direct his question is. “I- well- when I first started working on this… I didn’t really know what I was doing? I was just throwing things together, I didn’t understand any of it. And now… well, there’s a lot I still don’t understand, I won’t lie about that. Emmalyn was our resident Irene expert, but we lost her to the portal too. But I’ve also learned- I know what I’m doing now, I know the end goal. I just need to figure out how to get there.”

He nods, though his focus is still mostly devoted to the portal. He understands what she means now when she said there was a lot she didn’t understand- if he was in Zoey’s place he wouldn’t even know where to start. It takes him a solid minute to recognize that no, those “scratches” he spotted on the portal are words, and in some language he has no clue of recognizing. He shakes his head. He would love to help out, of course he would, but he isn’t cut out for this.

“Well, you’re the barrier magicks user. If anyone could do it, it’s you.”

She sighs and nods. “I suppose so. I’m not sure if it’s a good thing, but it’s better than nothing.”

“Of course it’s a good thing. The town just needs to have faith in you.”

“It’s been ten years. There’s not much faith left to go around.”

“Well, what about you? Do you think you can do it? Bring them home?”

She pauses for a second, but nods. “Yes. I do.”

“Then that’s good enough for me. That settles it.”

She gives him a look and tilts her head, confused. “Settles what, exactly?”

“I think I’d like to stay here. In Phoenix Drop. At least until everyone returns.”

“Oh!” She smiles, but took another moment to process and “Oh.” Her face drops. “I- I mean that’s great, I’m glad you’d like to stay, but- this could take years. Decades. Centuries, even. You could be long dead by the time everyone is back here.”

“That’s fine. It’s worth the wait.”

She was startled by his ease in acceptance. “That’s- I mean- you could-“ she takes a breath to calm herself. “Alright. Welcome to Phoenix Drop, Mr. Zvahl.”

~~~

She had agreed to take him out to the portal if he would do some work for her in return. Nothing too strenuous, she wasn’t cruel, but it was nice to have help every once in a while.

For as good as he was in navigating the forest, he knew next to nothing about the plant life within it. Or plant life in general. She spent a solid ten minutes explaining to him what they were looking for, “Four leaves, notched edges, somewhat pointy at the ends. You’ll know you have the right plant if the base of the leaf is much thicker than the edges.” His understanding seemed to be shaky at best, but he didn’t want to waste more time when they were supposed to be gathering. And so he wandered north, she went a bit south, and hoped that he had at least a basic understanding of what they were looking for.

She hadn’t found too many- but she figured as much. It took some time to get to the better spots where the plant often grew in, which they had instead spent observing the portal (as if she didn’t spend enough time on that blasted thing already). So she paid it no mind when he was late meeting back up by a couple minutes. And then ten went past. Then fifteen. It was just enough time to make her start to worry when she’d spotted him returning. That was another odd thing about him, sometimes he was easier to spot with your eyes than to notice with your ears. He was oddly quiet, inhumanly stealthy. She’d wanted to say he was just good at that sort of thing, but what kind of person can disappear in a forest but can’t tell an acorn from a rock? Either he was oddly talented, or there was something even odder going on here, and it bugged her a bit too much.

Her mind was taken off the question when he’d stopped in front of her and she got a good look at him. She understood now why he was late- he seemed uncomfortable, and kept shifting the rather large pile of plants he gathered around. It was a bit hard to tell with the gloves he wore, but she swore she could see splotches of red creeping up his arms.

“Is this stuff we’re gathering… supposed to be itchy?”

And just like that, her suspicions were confirmed. “Well- yes, that is normal for that plant. But it’s also not the plant I told you to gather.”

“It’s not?” He said, looking down at the bundles of leaves in his arms.

“No, it isn’t. I sent you to gather lushsprout. The plants you’re holding look like poison ivy.”

A blank expression slowly grew on his face as he stared through the plant he’d gathered and into the middle distance. A look Zoey could only describe as regret took hold, and he dropped everything he had spent so long gathering as the name finally registered in his brain.

“One moment.” he said and rushed off in the direction of what Zoey could only assume was the nearest water source, a desperate attempt to wash off the red splotches that had already begun to form on his skin. Zoey couldn’t help but snort- it was the most emoted she had seen him ever, and yet it was all so comical.

Well, there was nothing comical about poison ivy, she supposed. It was mildly annoying at best, and painful at worst- but judging by his seeming unawareness she figured he would be alright this time. It would certainly make a good story for later, at least. They had done enough herb gathering for the day.

~~~

They made their way back to Phoenix Drop, recuperating at Aphmau’s house. He washed his hands and arms once again, as well as his gloves in order to make sure they were completely poison-ivy-free. (He’d gathered too much to be completely unscathed, but it was something he could deal with.) Zoey made him tea once again, and Vylad didn’t have the heart to turn her down. Of all the citizens of Phoenix Drop, he’d grown to like her and Dante the most.

She was kind and thoughtful, and understanding of his quiet demeanor. Where Dante often barged in and forced conversation, Zoey understood the importance of silence. They hadn’t physically talked much, though he discovered that he’d somewhat enjoyed just hanging out around her, helping her gather herbs, looking at her miniature garden, whatever trivial way they decided to pass the time. She was certainly more suspicious of him than Dante was (so perhaps she was smarter too), but Vylad figured it was justified and tried to not let it bother him much.

In a strange turn of events, he ended up the one to break the silence.

~~~

“...Just how often does Kawaii~Chan bake?”

“Well, she’s been doing it less often lately, since she’s got a child to look after now, but…”

“So not too often, then?”

She could’ve sworn he sounded almost disappointed. “Gods no, Kawaii~Chan is an unstoppable force when it comes to cooking. The day there is a force strong enough to prevent her is probably the day the world ends.”

She chuckled a bit at her own joke, Zvahl never laughed (or reacted much to anything at all, she’d noticed), so she did for both of them. Maybe it was a bit conceited, but in her eyes it let them both enjoy it, even if he was reluctant to show such feelings. “Why, were you hoping to get some of her sweets yourself?”

“Uh-”

“Have you ever even had her cooking? It’s very good, I’m just not sure why you’d be so interested…”

“Yes, I did. At that breakfast, about a week ago.”

“You’ve been craving her cooking for a week? ”

“Well-”

Any form of excuse was interrupted by more of her laughter, this time it was entirely for herself. Was he so reserved that it had taken him a week to ask about something as trivial as baking? She glanced over him once again to make sure she wasn’t missing anything- only finding what she decided was a hint of embarrassment. He opened his mouth to speak, and she nearly found herself laughing again when he closed it and glanced away.

She stifled her laughter to save him from any more embarrassment, and gave him a knowing wink. “Don’t worry, I’ll put in a good word with her for you if you want. She loves to bake after all- I’m sure she’d be happy to make you something.”

It was muffled by the scarf which most of his face had retreated into, but through the cloth she swore she heard him give a mumbled, “... Thank you...”

Perhaps she was wrong. He had plenty of emotion. Zoey would just need to learn where to look.

~~~

[hermeticimp]

Hey hun! May I please get a reading about my recent weird dream goings-on and how they may relate to my godwork? Thanks!

Heya Lee! A dream reading… well, this should be interesting! The most immediately noticeable thing is the fact that most of your cards are pentacles or cups. Considering your affinity for rats and that we’re covering the unconscious, this is pretty fitting! By the way, I’m listening to my spirit family’s playlist as I do this. I’ll include any music messages if anything stands out. Without further ado, let’s jump in!

Instead of starting with the first cards I’ve drawn, my pendulum has asked me to start with the second trio of cards first. This is because these ones are about the general meanings of your dreams (I’ll explain the others when we get to them). Thus, we begin our journey with the Six of Cups. A pink, yellow, and orange betta fish swims nimbly between the cups surrounding him. According to this card, your dreams have to do with you returning to your past. In this deck, it refers to seeking out old friends and reuniting with them. However, I’m inclined to mean that you actually have past issues that you still need to work out (Hands of Time by Rachael Diggs). The past has been coming to haunt you a bit through these dreams. While you can’t go back to days gone, you do need to confront the issues and make peace with them in order to move forward. The chorus stands out here: You can’t turn back the hands of time/Just let it go and you’ll be fine/What’s done is done and it’s alright/You can’t turn back the hands of time. Take some time to question whether any old patterns have revealed themselves in your dreams and ask why they’ve resurfaced. From there, figure out how to let them go. On the flip of that, this card isn’t solely about confronting past traumas. You should also take the time to remember the things that made you happy when you were younger. You’ve been dealing with some intense things lately. Take the time to feed your inner child. You may find that you understand things a little better from this perspective. Indulge in your love of heroes (Elevate from the Spider-Verse track is playing right now, haha). 

We move on to the Nine of Cups Reversed. A violet betta fish finds itself sinking amongst its cups. Right now, you’re feeling some level of dissatisfaction in your life. I think that’s understandable with all the things that have been piled on your plate lately. I think this card also speaks to the past issues from the last one. Your dreams are telling you that your frustration with things not playing out as you’d like is coming from something deeper beneath the surface. It’s a symptom of a deeper issue. You may be overcompensating in order to deal with that. Sit back and really think about what you’ve been doing lately. What have been trying to distract yourself from? What have you been trying to avoid? Taking the time to examine these questions will provide some major insight. I think that’s why your inner child may lead you to the answer. There’s a wound there. You may need to dig deep to find it, but it’ll be helpful to avoid poisoning the well any longer. Remember that this is only temporary. It won’t last forever. 

We finish our dream interpretation with the Three of Wands. A brown snake coils the wands close to its body. Right now, you should take advantage of the opportunities around you. Once you’ve dealt with these issues, there will be less weighing you down and preventing you from chasing after what you want. While you’re assessing your present needs, take a moment to look at the general path of your life. Are you doing what you really want to do? Is there anything you can change so you can get closer to that vision of what your life should be. Get lost in that feeling and use it as inspiration (February 3rd by Jorja Smith). Prepare yourself for what needs to be done and make a plan. There’s so many chances available to you now, both in your daily life and spiritual one. Take advantage of it. Follow your ambitions. 

Now we move on to the first cards I pulled. I clarified with my pendulum and found that these are the messages that Odin has been trying to send through your dreams. His first card is the Seven of Pentacles Reversed. A brown rat finds itself fixated on the pentacles that are falling around him. Odin wants you to make some extreme changes to your life. There are things in your path that are no longer serving you. You need to let these aspects die; it’s the natural state of life (Goodbye by Slaughterhouse). There’s nothing wrong with changing tracks. Start over if you need to. Transform your path until it’s unrecognizable. “It’s not the end of the chapter”. This is a lyric from the song that stood to me. Just because you have to move onto a different path doesn't mean that things are over. You are on a path of greatness. Odin is more than happy to support you through this transition (Count On Me by Bruno Mars). It won’t be an easy road (Is anything ever with the Allfather?), but you have the tools to succeed. It’s just a matter of utilizing what you have at your disposal. 

From there, he elaborates through the Page of Cups Reversed. (Odin picked all reversals here. I don’t know if that means anything to you, but I thought I’d mention it). A gorgeous orange and pink fish swims upside down as a fountain runs in the background. You’re having trouble properly communicating and dealing with your issues. The card description actually uses the word “immature”. Odin is accusing you of running away from your feelings instead of properly dealing with them. He knows that there’s been a lot going on, but he doesn’t find that to be a fair excuse for not taking proper care of yourself. Loss makes it easy to sink to the depths of your spirit and lose your way back. He gets that. At the same time, if you don’t learn how to anchor yourself, you’ll just end up drowning. Open to to someone, whether it be friends, your spouse, or your gods. You don’t have to deal with things on your own or in self-destructive ways. Breathe. Feel. But don’t give up. Keep believing and surrender yourself to your emotion (Again by Flyleaf). You have support to lean on. You are loved.  

His final message is conveyed by The Devil Reversed. A goat-like being loses the grip it has on the snakes bound to it, losing his power. Here, Odin is reaffirming that you tackle your past issues and get rid of them. Do away with anything that no longer serves you. All they will do is hold you back. Don’t pretend that things are okay when they’re not (Dollhouse by Melanie Martinez). It isn’t healthy in the least. Now that you’re aware of what’s been killing you from the inside out, it’s time to confront it and put in the past. This is a time for you to feel free and empowered. You’ve got this. Once you’ve let your bonds fall away, you’ll find it easier to breathe. Take back your power. Don’t let others or life rule over you. You are the master of yourself. Embrace that. Don’t hesitate. Do what you need to do for you. 

The remaining card is a message to you from Loki. The Three of Pentacles shows a rat looking up at the shining pentacles above him. They express here that you are on the right track. You have accomplished much and should have a moment to breathe and take that in. There is no need for you to doubt yourself. You understand far more than you think you know. Nonetheless, it is a brilliant idea to reach out and seek help from the people around you. Lean on others as you need. Teamwork is an essential aspect of your path. After all, things are more fun when you have people to share them with, are they not? (Idk if it’s from them, but Dark Horse by Katy Perry feels like it has SOMETHING to do with your reading, haha). 

I hope this resonates with you! It was a pleasure to read for you. Please let me know if you have any questions and leave a review! A tip would also be appreciated. ^_^ Thank you!