#i think its neat if her hair is constantly flowing and moving when shes a goddess

[nullifi-blr]

The first Legendary Heroes of Bahumia... surely nothing will change that status.

[riddlecrux]

Historical AU

Day 7 of Elriel Month!

Summary: Blue and violet material rustled as she stared at three stars and three mountain peaks which sparkled in the daylight. The place that called her home. Velaris knights galloped through the forest with grace and dignity. At the front of the formation, she spotted him. Note: This is a snippet of my upcoming multi chapter Medieval AU Elriel fanfic!

There was talk in the town.

A gossip about one particular knight was spreading among ladies like a wildfire, fast and unforgiving. Whenever she went out, for a trip to the market or tailor, the words were often hushed and clipped. As if saying them outright and loud would bring the said person stumbling through the door - unannounced and feared. It was as if a shadow of a knight lived among the elites, constantly watching their lips, ready to strike from the darkest parts of the room. She had thought that gossiping was a rather boring thing to do, especially during the daytime - she much preferred spending her free time gardening and walking through the nearby forest.

The solitude she yearned for was always waiting for her, embracing her in silence and wisps of spring wind. A book under her arm, the hem of her skirt tucked between her fingers as she moved through the green maze with a blush covering her pale skin. It was something completely different from the small, claustrophobic ballrooms filled with perfumed guests and men trying to catch themselves a woman, a wife, a person that they were going to tame. A woman, later barely a doll. Empty shell filled with her husband's desires, placid and neat. Never free, never wild - an object that men love to present as a trophy.

Elain huffed, long steps halting as golden brown tresses slipped from her modest braid - her blue dress wrinkled and dirty, the mud sprinkled even her undergarments as she maneuvered through the forest road. She glanced behind her, a nervous tick, and with a soft frown on her forehead, she leaned against the rough tree. Few flowers slipped from her hand as she closed her eyes, breathing the scent of nature which coaxed her troubled mind.

She knew that the day would come, sooner or later - she prayed that her resolve and kindness would prevent her from marriage without love but naive as she was she knew that it was only a matter of time before her mother chose her a fiancé. Preferably rich one, from a distinguished family with a house close to the city market and church. Those arguments were vain and so ill-matched in Elain's opinion. She didn't care for money; she wanted to be loved. More than anything else she wanted to be chosen because of her personality - not too extravagant, timid, and simple as her father once said. Nesta always had a spark in her, steel that made men tremble before her, a woman made for a king or a duke. Her older sister was always the example of everything Elain wasn't, yet the day before Nesta's arranged marriage it was her older, wiser, dutiful sister that ran away - leaving a letter in which she chose love over duty.

I do not wish to be shackled by a man that does not deserve me. Women are much more than cattle you breed to sell. I part with a heavy heart, not because of my decision but because of the future of my sisters.

Elain had read the letter thousands of times, tracing letters with her fingers - remembering Nesta's coldness and silent form of love. She envied her older sister. If she was more courageous, less soft she would, perhaps, repeat her sister's steps.

Sighing through her parted lips her head hit the tree behind her. I do not wish to be shackled by a man that does not deserve me. She murmured under her breath like a prayer staring at the empty road that led to her little town. Gripping the old book by its edges Elain willed herself to pray. Pray that the man her mother had chosen would not like her. Pray that her resolve would show her the correct way, an answer to her broken promise. Pray that…

Her eyes opened at the sound of horses coming down the road. Glancing behind her cover she saw four riders, all dressed in black robes - all of them being knights. Her grip on the branch tightened as her mouth parted once again at the sight of a very well-known flag that was flowing in the air behind them. Blue and violet material rustled as she stared at three stars and three mountain peaks which sparkled in the daylight. The place that called her home. Velaris knights galloped through the forest with grace and dignity. At the front of the formation, she spotted him.

A knight dressed in black armor, iron spikes coming from his shoulder pads, and even sharper ones adorning his helmet. His gauntlets tightly clenched around his horse’s harness, dark and utterly beautiful. The breastplate was wide and devoid of any ornaments safe for three stars on each side of his armor. On his left side an extraordinary sword. Its majestic hilt covered in small, blue gems which were reflecting sunshine as he moved on the massive, gorgeous stallion. It was her gasp that made him snap his neck in her direction - she quickly scrambled and hid behind the tree wishing that he hadn't seen her. As the sounds of hooves started to ease with their every step, Elain slowly crept from her hiding position. Her heart beating so loud that the bird sitting on one of the branches fled from its resting spot.

The talk of the town - The Scarred Knight, came just in time for the tournament.

*

3 YEARS EARLIER

The summer was hot and stuffy.

Elain shot a quick glance behind her shoulder as she ran through the crowded streets of the town. She could hear Lucien's screams and his brothers’ laughter, however, she didn't stop. Her feet adorned with leather booties moved even faster, as long as she lost the gingers she would be safe. She turned right, stumbled because of the moving wagon, and sprinted towards cathedral alley - people were staggering when she turned in another street, her hair falling from her up-do in waves of molten gold. The freedom in her lungs was addictive. She felt like a bird, freed from its beautiful cage that it was trapped in for its whole life.

Her feet hit the muddy ground as she scanned moving peasants and with a resolution on her delicate features, she whirled around and ran straight towards the training grounds. One step, two steps...

She gasped when she collided with a solid body, her feet getting caught in the lace of her dress, making her fall on her backside with a loud thud. Her forehead was hurting and she could swear that the world around her wavered as she finally decided to glance at the reason for her fall. It was a knight, a tall and very deadly one. His violet eyes scanned her for injuries and with a slow sigh, he presented her a gloved hand.

"My lady," his sensual voice rang in her ears as she gracefully - at least she hoped so, gripped his fingers and stood up. Her beige dress was dirty and ruffled at its edges. Her mother would have scolded her till her calves were raw from the beating. The sight of her so utterly ungracious and dishonorable would shake her so much that Elain would have had to beg her on her knees to stop. Nevertheless, as she looked at her skirt she saw few droplets of blood and with a frown, she deduced that she, in fact, sliced her palm when she tried not to stumble.

Snapping her attention back to the knight in front of her, she slowly bowed and smiled. Her curls created a halo around her heart-shaped face when she finally looked him straight in his eyes. He was tall, well built and had brown skin. It was a beautiful color, she mused trying not to think how handsome he was.

"Sir Knight, pardon my intrusion," she cocked her head as another knight appeared in her peripheral vision. He was even taller and bigger than the one from before. His long hair flew on wisps of wind as he chuckled seeing her state and dirt on her dress. One dark brow rose with a flicker of amusement in his bright eyes.

"It's a rather peculiar sight to behold," he murmured as another wave of deep laughter erupted from his throat. She could feel redness coming up on her cheeks and with a swift movement, she ducked her chin down. Her mother would have simply perished if she saw her right now. What a disgrace for her perfect family.

"Cassian, the lady is hurt," she still didn't dare to look up, and when the newcomer left as quickly as he appeared she stole a small glance in the direction of soft sounds.

On her right, the training grounds were almost empty safe for a knight in black armor, kneeling on the ground. His hands were bare and visible to her eyes - scars, horrible and painful ones adoring his long fingers and gentle palms were a stark contrast to his dark attire. However, what caught her initial attention was the way he was slowly but surely trying to feed a stray kitten that aimlessly wandered here. His kneeling person, sharp against the tiny creature barely visible to the human eye. Two oddities coexisting in that nanosecond of time seemed to stop for her as she devoured the sight of this blindingly pure kindness.

"My lady," she heard the other man from somewhere far away. Her tunnel vision focused on that one person, his act of gentleness amidst the blazing sunlight, and… the way his scarred fingers were trembling while he placed all of his weight on his knees. As if he was scared and ashamed of their appearance, even before that small animal hissing in his direction. "My lady?" Her doe eyes found violet ones and with a soft gasp, she came to her senses.

"Please do forgive me for my ignorance," her voice shook and she hated herself for that. For that slight hint of distress slipping through the cracks of her perfectly molded mask of courtesy. The knight rose a dark brow and with frivolous joy watched her behavior as if he had solved a mysterious puzzle. Deep down in her chest, her heart sang an unknown song that made her spiral even further into herself.

"Azriel!" A sharp command slashed the air as she whipped her head at the source of that loud noise. The violet-eyed knight bowed elegantly as the kneeling man slowly stood up, even taller than previously acquainted knights, and slowly made a way towards them. His armor was loud, yet mesmerizing - she felt her bloodstream tickle, surge as the earth shattered under her legs with the force of warmth and longing she suddenly felt. An intake of breath caught in her lungs made her frozen as foreign yet so well-known hazel eyes stopped on her person. As if she had dreamt about them, as if they were forever imprinted inside her like a burst of thousands of stars. The slits in his helmet allowed her to see his long eyelashes, dark and dangerous, as he inclined his greetings.

"Sir Knight," she breathed out, like a bird singing for its designed mate. The knight's burning gaze left her shaking - as if her soul suddenly came down on earth and wished for a moment of utmost closure.

"The lady is hurt," the shorter one supplied glancing between both of them with a smirk. "Please attend her while I gather supplies," and with a swift nod, he left both of them alone. She supposed that time became only a fraction of surrounding her world when Azriel only stared at her, his scarred hands tucked behind him as if the sight of them might have somehow offended her.

"Sir Knight," her lips parted with a silent echo of yearning. "You have truly beautiful hands," his eyes widened, a golden hue covering his irises as his armor rumpled with the stretch of his muscles.

"It's a far-fetched compliment, my lady, yet I'm declaring my thanks," he blinked as she fought with an overwhelming feeling dancing in her chest. He was so close to her and yet she felt as if he was a whole ocean away. Maybe her soul, the one who often whispered in her ear about soulmates, tricked her and made her a fool. Maybe because of that she wanted to say something, anything that could last - to make him remember her, a wild girl with flowers in her hair.

"It's not," she urged and let herself smile. "For what I have seen, Sir, you are gentle-natured," a gust of wind ruffled her tresses and when she tried to fight with them, scarred digits arrived next to her ear.

"And you, my lady, are indisputably a spring ready to conquer the already fading winter," he whispered urgently. Her heart trembled at his words, it was as if he had spoken to her spirit, to the gaping wound of her hidden longings and dreams. As if he had known her, right now and all these centuries before. The time was crashing into her like waves of that unknown feeling that overcame her, however before she could answer the loud yell of her name startled her like a deer.

"I must," her ragged breathing stopped when she saw red-haired men stumbling onto training grounds. Wide-eyed and breathless she stole the last glance at her starry-eyed soulmate and turned around. Even if all laws of this world told her to stay, screamed at her to turn around to see the universe crashing inside those hazel eyes, she didn't.

She left him there, a tray of sunlight and starlight glittering behind her as he watched her till she became only a speck of dust in the blazing heat.

[centrally-unplanned]

Allocating Your Aesthetic Budget: Sailor Moon Edition

Sailor Moon is a show that undoubtedly built a powerhouse of a visual brand. Should I even bother posting a screenshot of the sailor scouts, given that I am 100% confident anyone reading this can recall them instantly? I guess it won’t hurt: 

Anime is often really good at creating iconic designs like this, through repetition of the visuals. It is awkward in live action shows if characters just wear the same outfit every scene (what, they only own one outfit? Are they homeless/work in the tech industry?), but animation gives us enough aesthetic “distance”, an awareness that this isn’t accurate to real life, that you can buy into the conceit. By wearing the same outfit every time, it just becomes the character. Not to mention a studio can really save quite a few bucks by streamlining production with neat tricks like having only one character design to animate - when you are on a shoe-string budget, like pretty much every anime in the 90’s was, every cut corner counts.

What is interesting about Sailor Moon is that most of the time it doesn’t really use this conceit at all.

-----------

Episode 15 of Sailor Moon’s first season has, in its opening act, this shot of all of the Senshi (at the time) talking to the plot-of-the-day character, who clearly trains rock Pokemon in 16-bit caves in his off hours:

If you knew nothing about these three characters, you could probably infer about 80% of their personality just from their outfits. Usagi (the blond one in the middle, if that's necessary) is wearing:

Light pastel colours, with pink on top of that: girly, feminine, bubbly and breezy

Short-but-not-too-short of a skirt, and red heels: cares about fashion, wants to project an image of being a woman with a romantic hint to it

Long-twin tails w/ buns: Contrasting the shoes, she is still immature and childish. It also means she is the protagonist of an anime 

Rei (far right) rocks a very different look:

T-shirt and jean shorts, shoes over heels: sensible, practical, a bit sporty

Very short shorts, long black hair: Confident, a bit aggressive, and suggestive of a more overt sexuality

Ami (far left) settles into a more restrained vibe with:

Full, long, but sleeveless dress, bob-cut hair: Chaste, more conservative, but not to the point of prudishness; particularly with the length (and the hand posture, shielding her body) probably a bit shy

Monochrome blue colour in outfit & hair: reserved, serene, possessing a calm demeanor

I know I have seen the show already, but really none of these details are a stretch - this is just the language of fashion. And all of these outfits are outfits that the characters have never (or rarely) worn before up until this point. The cast of Sailor Moon, far from that animation conceit of “standard outfits”, change clothes all…

the….

time.

     I just randomly clicked on episodes to find these, it requires no hunting

And while it isn’t always as spot on as the top picture, they all in some way embody the language of visual design to speak to the personality of the characters. If you want to see more, check out one of the multiple tumblrs dedicated to the everyday clothing the Sailor Senshi wear, because of course those exist.

If this was a 2010’s Kyoto Animation show, pointing this out would be the end of it - every one of their shows has this level of impeccable detail. Sailor Moon is notable in that it is not at all that kind of show; the animation and designs in Sailor Moon take perpetual shortcuts to get the job done. I don’t think the transformation sequences need to be belabored - the way they permitted the team to recycle identical animation sequences, multiple times per episode, was surely a godsend to the production schedule. Yet not all of the budget limitations are so prettily masked:

     I’m sure they finished the background art in the...VHS release?

The show is filled with dirty animation, unfinished backgrounds, backgrounds that are a simple color gradient for no clear reason, and so on. It is clear that the Sailor Moon team did not have the resources for every detail - which is why the decision of what details they did choose to prioritize is so interesting.

----------

What is the point of Sailor Moon? I do believe that shows have “points”; and by that I don’t mean a message or theme but a core appeal to an audience, something specific that they will get out of the show. Almost every show appeals along multiple axes, and Sailor Moon is no exception, but I want to focus on one: aesthetic identification.

If you learn someone is a Sailor Moon fan, there is the obvious follow-up question you have to ask, namely “which Sailor Senshi are you?” It’s the which-Harry-Potter-house-are-you question of anime, a horoscope where you can choose your sign (in this case literally). The premise of this concept is not hard for media to execute on - it is just personality traits and aesthetics grouped together under a label, a basic building block of media and clickbait internet quizzes. Harry Potter, ironically, raised up its memetic question almost by accident, as its focus is so squarely on House Gryffindor that the others are almost forgotten; it was just so mind-bogglingly popular that it didn’t matter. 

Sailor Moon, however, takes this concept and allocates so much of its aesthetic budget into making it a centerpiece of the show. Sailor Moon herself is a klutzy, lazy romantic, Sailor Mercury is a shy, earnest bookworm, and so on, with none of them ever really becoming very complex characters. However, the show devotes itself to making you *feel* these archetypes as strongly and intricately as possible. All of those outfit changes are chosen because not only do real girls care about their outfits and can therefore identify more strongly with characters who do the same, but so they can constantly emulate their archetype in diverse, different ways. The show doesn't have the budget for intense action scenes, so after Sailor Moon engages in her hyper-serious transformation sequences, she proceeds to, nearly every time, bumble through the combat scenes like this:

Oh sure, the scenes are done this way because it is funny (and good comedy can be done on any budget - these shots are frequently still frames with motion lines!), but it is also done this way because Sailor Moon is a total screw-up, and if you identify with that it is validating to see someone “just like you” able to pull off wins despite it all. The transformation sequences are not only beautiful animation that showcases aspirational power, but are also crafted to highlight the personalities of the Senshi in question - unless you think aggressive, combative Rei got fire powers by coincidence. Half of the run-time of every episode is spent, not on the plot du-jour, but on light-hearted personal squabbles between the cast because those scenes are not just funny, but also allow for far more moments of character expression. 

All of that work pays off in building with the audience, not a connection with a character who reflects their identity in total, but a connection that reflects one aspect of their identity in an extremely deep (dare I say multifaceted?) way. I think if you were to describe Sailor Moon as a “shallow” show, you would actually be right to say so, in a sense. These characters will never have the true depth of personality, themes and so on of a more ‘adult’ show. But those adult shows have to spend their effort somewhere - for all that the themes of say Evangelion or Paranoia Agent are pristinely detailed and impactful, you aren’t ever going to be memorizing the moves of their transformation sequences. The way Sailor Moon committed so strongly to fleshing out the archetypes the Senshi stood for is, I think, one of the keys to how this cast of five became so iconic.

     Not even their school uniforms match! They had to spend time in-universe *justifying* this!

----------

A Final Note:

At least, everything I’ve said here applies to Sailor Moon at its peaks. The show, however, is not one without its stumbles, even in Season 1. This section doesn’t flow into the core essay too well, but I wanted to note it because if you were to watch Sailor Moon today, you might struggle to feel the dynamic outlined above. The biggest culprit here is the length - Season 1 is 46 episodes long, and sections of it most certainly drag. They also take a startlingly long time to introduce the cast - this choice builds tension around their arrival, but it also means the later Senshi get a lot less time to establish themselves. Sailor Venus in particular gets hamstrung by this - she is introduced and then immediately arc plot elements sweep the narrative, and so she is left as a hollow shell for some time. The pacing of the show is undoubtedly flawed.

I think Sailor Moon is a show that you do have to keep its time and place in mind for - namely, middle schoolers and anime nerds watching it on broadcast TV in the 90’s. As an adult you “get” the point of the show pretty quickly, and get satiated on it almost as fast. Watching it all in a few sittings only heightens this problem. For a younger audience, and one that is waiting for a week between episodes with no internet for plot reminders, all that extra time is needed to jog memories and build connections. And younger audiences just have that limitless commitment to the things they love! If you think no one could actually enjoy seeing the same transformation sequence for the 30th time, watch it with someone who would have died for this show when they were 10 and you will be disabused of that notion *very* quickly. 

Still, we can’t travel back in time - Sailor Moon is a show of its era. There are “filler-reduced” guides out there, though I caution that the plot of Sailor Moon is absolutely not the point of the show in comparison to the character dynamics, and so sometimes the filler is the best part (Cat-Rhett Butler is the best character in the show YOU KNOW I’M RIGHT). Certainly, however, some method must be used to cut down on its length. If you are going to be a first time viewer in adulthood, that reality should be kept in mind, and if you do accept it for what it is you can really appreciate its core appeal - and don’t forget to finish it off with a 1990′s era internet personality quiz to really wrap it up!

[stxrrywildflower]

carolina (2)

pairing - emily prentiss x reader

summary - you meet emily in a bar, she doesn’t realize who you are until she hears a song about her on the radio

warnings - none

series masterlist

emily felt like she couldn’t breath.

the profiler tried to go on with her life, she really did. except, your song was already extremely popular. it was topping the charts, people were constantly talking about it, and it was played on most radio stations. it was incredibly difficult to avoid the song, nonetheless you.

an entire week went by of emily trying to escape the song. the details of your hookup were never released, emily was starting to regret not admitting it to j.j. and garcia. the tech analyst loved the song, always gushing about the lyrics. all emily wanted to do was yell that it was about her.

but she couldn’t for multiple reasons; your privacy and the reaction from others. sure the team knew of her partner preference but how would they react if they knew emily had hooked up with one of the most famous singers at the moment.

news articles were another issue too. drama outlets were pestering you with questions about who the song was about. each time, you would remain stubern and not open up. it made her want to scream.

emily decided to just move on, work becoming her main priority for the next few days. j.j. and penelope didn’t let up on their questions, though they did learn to be more subtle about it.

no new cases were presented which was more than suprising. the team was fairly thankful for it, paperwork and 9 to 5’s were usually uncommon. being able to actually work and be home in time for dinner was one of their simple pleasures.

walking into work, emily was focused on one thing; coffee.

she couldn’t have been in the main floor for more than a few seconds before penelope was rushing over to the elevators.

“hey em,” penelope greeted. “there was a package dropped off for you this morning. i told the delivery guy to just leave it at your desk.”

though emily nodded, her mind was already formulating theories as she hasn’t ordered anything recently. being a profiler will make you that paranoid.

just like penelope had said, a smile white box with a small gold ribbon sat on her desk. emily narrowed her eyes slightly, having even less of a clue on what it could be.

“well, are you going to open it?”

emily ignored the remarks from the team, taking a seat and placing her bag at the base of her desk.

with only slightly shaky hands, she reached out to untie the ribbon. the sides of the box fell away as the strings were released, leaving the top on. after pulling the final piece off, she froze.

inside was an envelope, another piece of paper under it. the note was in your handwriting, edges crisp and extremely neat. in cursive letters was ‘emily prentiss.’ all thoughts of it being a mix up went right out of the door.

she refrained from opening it yet, wanting to see the other contents in the box before reading. emily next put the note on her desk, now focused on what was under it.

of all things, it was a plane ticket. ‘washington dulles international airport (IAD) to los angeles international airport (LAX). 9:30 am.’ it was set for the following morning, first class and already paid.

emily opened the note, seeing a five letter offer scribbled down.

‘meet me in los angeles?’ -y/n

emily’s never taken time off quicker.

____

touching down in the warm city of los angeles, emily was a bundle of nerves. she was already begining to regret wearing joggers and a t-shirt.

she had no clue how to feel about dropping everything or just the situation as a whole  

it was only when emily grabbed her luggage that she realized just how much of an idiot she was. she had just flow across the country with no clue where to go, who to talk to, or where you were. she was acting on pure adrenaline and impulse. her luggage finally came around, emily picking it up and extending the handle to grab.

a tap on emily’s shoulder caused her to jump. she turned around, now in front of a man in a clean black suit. he was holding a name card and a small index card.

“emily prentiss?” he asked.

“yeah?” emily replied, not quite sure what else to say. “this is for you,” he added, handing over the small piece of paper.

‘if you’re reading this, i assume you arrived with no issue. i sent leo to pick you up at the airport, hope he didn’t freak you out. he’ll take you back to mine. xx - y/n’

emily picked up her luggage once more, ready to follow leo out. “just letting you know, it’s a bit of a drive,” leo offered, getting in the drivers side while emily took the back. she nodded, letting out a sigh with it. at least she could think for awhile.

pulling up to your house, scratch that, it was pretty much a mansion, emily didn’t know if she had guessed completely correct on what it would look like or was just flat out wrong.

the house was in hollywood on one of the steep hills. after passing through the gates, a heavy security measure, she finally got view of the home. the outside was pretty modern, made up of mostly white and grey colors as well as many windows. a garden with a fountain in the center greeted her as they pulled into the circular driveway.

“well this is where i let you out. just head up the stairs and ring the doorbell. y/n should be down to greet you soon,” leo spoke. “i really hope everything works out. i’ve never seen y/n happier then when she came back from washington d.c.”

emily thanked him quietly, still processing the final piece of information he had spoke.

dragging her bags behind her, emily headed up the series of steps and to the door. just like leo had instructed, she pushed the doorbell button and stood back.

you didn’t greet her at the door, the lock on the door clicking signaling emily that it was now unlocked. she twisted the knob, pushing the door open and stepping inside.

the foyer may have been more impressive than the outside. a grand chandelier hug from the ceiling, a curved staircase leading up to the top floor. her heels clicked around the floor as she twirled around, looking up at the decor.

you heard the front door of your house open, the alarm alerting you just moments before. you were currently making lunch, just a simple sandwich and then fruit on the side

after putting your lunch on hold, abandoning your knife you were using as well as your now finished meal, you left the kitchen to meet your guest.

emily stood only slightly awkwardly in your open foyer. her bags were by her side, eyes darting around the room. half the stuff in there was probably worth more than she could think.

footsteps broke the profiler out of her observation.

you were finally in her eyesight a moment later, a small smile on your face as you walked down the hallway. what captivated emily once again was just your overall appearance. a sharp breath escaped her lips before she would realize that.

a loose oversized tan cardigan hung of your body, a white tank top underneath that with leggings as your pants. your hair was down, relaxed in its natural style. no makeup was on either, not even lipstick like you had on when she first met you.

“hey em,” god just the way you said her name made her blush.

“hi,” emily greeted, thankful her voice didn’t crack.

“i can take your bags upstairs,” you offered. “i’ll put them in my favorite guest room, it has the best views. you can go into the kitchen if you want, it’s just down the hall. the rooms open, there’s no way you can miss it.”

the two of you went your separate ways, you upstairs and her to the kitchen.

out of pure habit, emily ran her hand across the marble countertops, looking around at the details you had strewn about.

“sorry about the mess, i was just making,” emily jumped at your voice. she wasn’t expecting you back so soon. “it’s totally okay, honestly.”

another wave of awkward silence fell over you two, neither quite sure what to say. “look emily-” you started. “we do need to talk about what happened.”

“do we?” emily spoke. you laughed, “yes we do.”

while you took a seat at one of the counter seats, emily stood up. she was obviously holding back, reluctant how to go with the situation.

“come on emily. you’ve been all i’ve thought about for the past two weeks. hell, i even wrote a song about you. and we do need to talk about the elephant in the room,” you pleaded. “have you even heard it?”

emily nodded, “yes i have. my friend penelope sent me the link. listed it it then and didn’t really know how to react. it was kinda difficult to avoid, it’s playing everywhere. your doing amazing by the way. figured i could throw in a complement there.”

a blush passed across your cheeks. “thank you,” you whispered.

emily then looked down, fiddling with the hem of her shirt. you figured you might ask well just dive into the heavy stuff.

“all i’m saying is that you came here for a reason. there has to be some part of you that’s been thinking about me too. i would like to think you aren’t the person to just drop everything and meet in a whole different state for just anyone,” you commented.

you did get her there. emily did really just leave work without explanation to come see you.

emily didn’t respond, choosing to step forward to connect your lips. you hooked your legs around her, holding her cheek and arm in your hand.

the kiss was incredibly different than the one at the bar, that one being sloppy and rushed. you two were in a hurry, wanting to feel as much of the other as you could.

this one, you could actually take your time. very little could interrupt the two of you. you could actually savor the feeling of her body against yours.

“let’s give us a try,” you mumbled against her lips.

emily nodded, holding your waist a little tighter. “let’s give us a try.”

☆ ☆ ☆

tags - @itsmyblogandillreblogifiwantto @kissessforharryyy @garcias-batcave @zoseph @kissessfordraco @ogmilkis @cm-is-kinda-cool @matthewgublerswife @guessthatswhyiliveinhell @spencerslatte @babyangellee @agentshortstacc

[dwead-piwate-meggers]

Falling for the First Time

A direct sequel to “Five Times Adam du Mortain Eavesdropped, and One Time He Did Something About It” - Charlotte and Adam do their best to make good on the conversation they’d had about where, exactly, they would like the physical side of their relationship to go. Rated E for later chapters.

Adam du Mortain x f!detective approx. wc: 2524 rating: M warnings: non-explicit sexual content

Read it on Ao3

Chapter 2

The phone is ringing.

The sun is shining in through curtains that weren’t closed properly, and the phone is ringing.

Charlotte squeezes her eyes shut against the bright light, and rolls towards the nightstand, her hand groping around for where the device should be. Should be, but isn’t. And that’s… it should be there. It’s always there. That’s where she puts it every night. Her shoulder is cold, where it pokes out of the blankets. Apparently, she’s not wearing a shirt. And she’s still wearing yesterday’s bra. And yesterday’s leggings. And that - the phone is still ringing - is not her ringtone.

But it is Adam’s.

So… last night wasn’t a fever dream. It happened. She fell asleep in his arms. And either he forgot his phone, or...

She feels the bed move behind her, hears his voice, rough with sleep: “Hello?”

Charlotte rolls over, blinks as his profile comes into focus, silhouetted in the morning light streaming through her window. He’s lying on his back, phone pressed to his right ear, away from her. He pinches the bridge of his nose. “You can tell him that I’m fine .” He pauses to listen to the response. “I don’t know.” He pauses again, and grunts at whatever was said before hanging up. He drops the phone back on the nightstand on that side of the bed and rubs his hands over his face.

“Trouble?” she asks.

“Evidently, Nate found my absence concerning.”

“Ah.” She suppresses a giggle. “Stayed out past curfew?”

“Apparently.”

This time she can’t hold it in, and a little giggle slips loose - they’re both adults, and here he is, centuries old, getting scolded for staying out past his designated bedtime.

Adam turns his head to look at her with a soft smile and a quirked brow, as if to ask ‘what’s so funny?’

“I’ve never been a bad influence before,” she explains.

“And here I was,” he deadpans, “with such a good record.”

That doesn’t help, and she begins laughing in earnest. “It starts with staying out late, then spending time with the wrong crowd, then who knows what else you’ll get tempted into.”

He reaches over to cup her cheek, gives her a fond smile. “I suspect there’s very little that you could not tempt me into.”

Charlotte sidles closer. “I’ll do my best not to abuse that,” she says, as much as I’d love to, and leans in for a chaste kiss.

“My reputation thanks you for it,” he murmurs against her lips.

It’s...a little difficult to believe this is happening. That it’s morning and he’s still here. That he spent the night in her bed.  And the bed is soft, his arm around her is warm, his chest is solid under her fingertips and she just wants to spin this moment out for as long as she can but...  she swore that today would be the day she’d clear the backlog of paperwork waiting for her at the station.

She sighs. “I should get up.”

He frowns. “You aren’t scheduled to work today.”

“No,” she agrees. “Unfortunately, the mountain of paperwork on my desk doesn’t particularly care about whether or not I’m on duty.”

He pulls her a little closer, presses his forehead against hers. “Then it also doesn’t care if it gets done in the morning or the evening.”

He makes a compelling point. And damn if it isn’t that much harder to get up, now. But… she had a plan. “If it doesn’t get done in the morning,” she says, pulling away a little, “it won’t get done in the evening. I have an appointment with the world’s worst organized library tonight.”

She puts a little more space between them, and almost laughs at his expression - Charlotte had never considered that she might one day see Adam du Mortain pouting. She knows he’s on patrol tonight. Which apparently means he was counting on getting a little extra time with her this morning. She presses a kiss between his brows before she rolls over to get up. “I’ll wait for you to get back after?”

He grumbles something about that being tolerable.

---

Charlotte finds it unusually difficult to focus on her work. The flow of her thoughts is constantly interrupted by memories (some rather more vivid than others, leaving her shifting in her seat) of what happened the night before, or of speculating on what might have happened that morning if she hadn’t dragged herself out of bed. Or of what might be waiting for her tonight. Eventually, she gets the paperwork done. Somehow. It only takes twice as long as she had initially estimated. Which still leaves plenty of time for the errands she had planned - groceries, getting her kitchen knives properly sharpened, returning her library books. If anything, there is a slight advantage in having her paperwork go so slowly: it eats up some of the time between morning and evening.

She returns to her apartment, down a pile of paper and some library books, up a set of sharp knives and enough food for the week. She unpacks: puts aside the pre-made meal that she’d bought for dinner and a tin of cat food and sets everything else in its place, while Timbit, the Dark Prince of Apartment 302, watches on from his perch on top of the fridge.

He meows.

“Hm?” She continues unpacking.

He meows again.

She looks up. Tina swears sometimes that the cat is judging her. Until today, Charlotte has insisted that’s not only unlikely, but also ridiculous. Suddenly, looking into those bright yellow eyes, she’s not so sure. She does get the distinct sense that Timbit is passing judgement.

“Is it the dinner?” she asks, opening the tin of cat food.

He is silent.

“Is it that I left you alone all day?” She scrapes the contents of the tin into the clean food bowl.

He’s still silent.

“Is it because Adam stayed the night?” She places the bowl on the floor.

Timbit meows, and then leaps down. She takes that as a yes. He nibbles a few mouthfuls, then turns to meow again before continuing with his meal.

She takes that to mean ‘and also because you’re thinking about doing it again tonight.’

She opens the container holding her own dinner, and tears back the paper covering one side of the wrap, muttering, “Just ‘cause you’ve been neutered…”

He flicks his tail directly into her ankle.

“...does not mean I have to behave the same way.”

Clearly he finds it beneath his dignity to respond, because he continues eating in peace, and leaves her to do the same. She balls up the packaging, tosses it in the trash and checks the clock. Enough time for a shower and to dry her hair. To maybe pick out something...nice? To wear? Does she even own anything nice? It feels like her wardrobe is all either work-wear or knit-wear and flannels.

But he has the wardrobe of a cartoon character, so maybe it doesn’t matter. It certainly hadn’t mattered last night. So maybe she’s overthinking this. She should just… stop thinking about what may or may not (hopefully may ) happen. Just shower and get dressed and go.

Maybe a cold shower.

---

In the end, it had been a lukewarm shower. Which was close enough to cold in a Wayhaven spring. It hadn’t really helped, except that she’d been more grateful to put on a sweater than she might have been otherwise. Charlotte is jittery driving to the Warehouse, her eyes flicking to the mirrors way more often than they need to, especially considering she’s the only one on the road.

This is worse than her first visit, almost a year ago, when she wasn’t sure of her feelings, let alone his. And he’s not even there, won’t be there for a few hours still.

She meets Nate in the Library - he’s already read over what the list of what the Agency suggested, and has pulled out and bookmarked a bunch of supplementary material. Why he doesn’t just write the recommended reading lists himself, she’ll never know.

Charlotte settles down on the couch to read over the chapter about magic detection, books spread out on the coffee table and a legal pad in her lap. It doesn’t go any better than her paperwork had this morning - she finds herself reading the same paragraph three or four times before she grasps the meaning, forgets what she’s writing halfway through a note. She notices Nate glancing over at her once or twice, failing utterly to suppress a smirk. He is at least gracious enough not to say anything, even after she checks her watch for what feels like the seventeenth time that hour. Eventually, he leaves the room for a moment, as she’s struggling through a passage about the various ways that runes can be disguised. When he comes back, it’s with glasses in hand: what she assumes is whiskey, neat, for himself, given his usual drink order, and a deep amber liquid in a brandy snifter for her.

She reaches up to accept the glass and asks, “What am I drinking?”

“Calvados.”

Apple brandy. From Normandy. Somehow, it feels like a very expensive joke at her expense. She narrows her eyes at him. Nate gives her what she assumes is his best impression of an innocent smile in response. She doesn’t buy it. But the drink is...nice. Helps her relax, at least.

Until he gets back. She can’t hear it, not right away, but she sees Nate’s reaction. She’d noticed months ago that it’s a different reaction for each member of Unit Bravo, and this is definitely a reaction to Adam’s presence: the slight straightening of the spine, the lift to his chin, the head tilt, ready to follow orders or to engage in conversation. And then she hears the footsteps: the rhythmic thudding of boots on the floor, not quite a march, but damn close.

 The door opens. She wills herself not to look, not to be that obvious, even though they can probably - definitely - both hear the sudden jump in her heartbeat. Because she’s an adult, goddamnit, not a 16 year old with a crush, and she’s going to behave like one. But willpower isn’t her strong suit today. She peeks anyway. Adam is walking between the shelves, hands behind his back. He must have hung his coat somewhere else, because it was too cold for him to be patrolling in just a t-shirt, but that is what he’s wearing now - grey t-shirt, dark cargo pants, combat boots. He looks as he always does. And she feels as she always feels - that irresistible draw, that… magnetism.

She looks back down to her textbook as he starts to turn, making the mistake of catching Nate’s eye. He’s outright grinning. She’s tempted to throw something at him, adds it to her mental to-do list: finish this chapter, take notes from the additional readings, throw her pen right into Nate’s perfect tee- the couch sinks on her left.

The couch sinks, and she’s very aware of the person who caused it, sees large, solid hands flicking through pages out of the corner of her eye. And maybe the sweater hadn’t been the best idea. Because the temperature of the room just jumped several degrees, hadn't it?

She’s probably blushing.

Nate coughs. Well, he laughs, and tries ( poorly ) to cover it with a cough. She’s going to have to have a brainstorming session with Farah tomorrow. Or maybe she’ll just introduce the Dewey Decimal system to this ‘library’.

At any other time, at any other time, this arrangement, the three of them reading in silence, would be nice, companionable. But that other time would require that she not be hyper-aware of the heat radiating off the body next to her on the couch, that her thoughts not wander increasingly frequently to what that body and hers had been doing the night before. And what they had maybe, sort of, implicitly agreed to revisit tonight. So it’s not nice. It’s tense. And uncomfortable. And she has read and re-read the same paragraph for the past fifteen minutes.

Nate makes a show of checking his phone. “Well, it seems as though I’m needed elsewhere,” he declares brightly, shoots her an unrepentant grin as he waves goodbye at the door. His phone hadn’t even gone off, the pest.

She has ten pages to go, if she could just...focus. She feels the couch shift again, feels Adam’s arm snake around her waist. That...will not help with the focus issue. Eight pages. He tucks his hand under the hem of her shirt, his thumb rubbing gentle circles over her hip. She bites her lip. Seven pages. He shifts closer, so that their thighs are touching, his breath hot on her neck. And he has to know how that has her heart racing. But dammit if she���s not going to get her work done because she was behaving like an adolescent. Six pages to go. And then five. And then he leans in, kisses her neck, right where it meets her shoulder. Her eyes drift shut. He does it again, working his way up to her ear, and there’s nothing she can do to stifle the moan that escapes her lips. Son of a bitch.

Charlotte turns to face him. “I am trying,” she’s interrupted by a kiss, his other hand coming up to cup her cheek, “to learn something.”

“Are you suggesting,” he kisses her again, “that you’re not learning something at the moment?”

“I’m learning,” she smiles into the next kiss, “that you’re a distraction.”

He pulls her into his lap, one-handed. “Or maybe,” he says, around another kiss, “it's that you’re irresistible.”

She laughs,  “Now, see, I know that’s not true.” She’s cut off when he presses his lips to hers again, continues, “You spent months resisting me.”

He chuckles, “Considering our current position... it would seem that I failed.”

She can’t really think of a response to that. And really, what’s the point in responding to that, when she could be kissing him instead. So she does. Sitting across his lap, with his arms around her back, holding her close to him, and her own wrapped around those broad shoulders. She does, again and again and again, and … she really does need to finish those five pages. She pulls away, a little, feels him move to follow her, so she holds a finger up to his lips.

“Let me finish this chapter,” she says. “And then you can distract me however you want.”

And for the second time in less than 24 hours, she’s graced with his scowling pout. “Fine.”

She kisses his cheek, whispers, “I promise,” into his ear, as she shifts out of his lap, and does her best to turn her attention back to the book.

He grabs what he was reading off the coffee table and stands. She looks up.

“I’ll be in my room when you’re finished,” he says, leans down to kiss her forehead, and marches out of the door. He closes it gently behind him, for once.

[nightwingshero]

Rosemary, abatina, dill, hollyhock, and sweet pear for whoever you feel like talking about! 💜

Thank you, hun!!! I did a mixture, because I’m missing some old OCs of mine, and some need serious development. Yeah, so it got really long, I am so sorry!

Rosemary: What's their fondest memory?

Blair: It would probably be laying out in the backyard with her dad while they watched the stars, or her dad buying her that nice telescope that he’d use with her. It meant a lot to her that her parents indulged when it came to her interests, they were always supportive. Most of her time was spent at aquariums, the observatory, zoos, and just doing a lot of stuff with her parents. Science fairs were always a blast, because her parents would help. 

Emma: This would be either her and her brother Mark playing in the pond they had or playing football on the beach in the summer. Em would also work on an old Mustang, one she’s still helping him build, and Ash would come over most days and they would all just have a huge dinner in the backyard. Georgia gave decent weather for it. Most of her fondest memories are with her family or Ashton, because they grew up together and did a lot together when Emma’s family moved there. A beautiful, sunny day in Summer always takes her back. 

Quinn: There were times where they would travel back to Russia to visit the remaining members of his mother’s family, and he would love it. Quinn absolutely adored his babushka, and the stories she would tell. His mother would tell the same tales, but it wasn’t the same as how his babushka would tell it. There was also sailing with his father. That was something Quinn thoroughly enjoyed, and it was something they continued on doing until his father died. 

Wren: Definitely playing piano with her mother! That is probably the most precious moment for her. When she plays it now, she still feels as if her mother is there with her. Not only that, but her music teacher was her one good thing growing up. Mrs. Hall taught Wren how to actually play, and when Wren would sneak to lessons (under the guise of studying or going to the library), Mrs. Hall would often bake cookies and brownies for Wren, as if she were her own grandmother. Wren attended her funeral when she passed, and it actually felt like she had lost her grandmother when she heard. But those are memories she holds dear. 

Abatina: Are they very picky or particular about anything?

Blair: Not really, no. Blair is rather easy going and goes with the flow. I think the one thing would be don’t touch her work station. It’s organized chaos with an actual system that only she knows, and she will absolutely lose it if you mess with anything because that’s her life’s work you’re messing with. I think that could be said for any scientist though, and she is very verbal about it. It’s a light reminder, or a happy request until you get too close and she becomes slightly frazzled and makes you keep your distance. 

Emma: She can be an absolute control freak and has to have things a certain way (whether that’s because she was in the Marines or if she inherited it from her mother, who’s to say?) No eating in her cars, don’t touch her guns, and if you’re going along with her on something, you’re following her lead. Ashton, Nora, and even Roach give her hell for it, but honestly? Sometimes she can’t help it. Emma has a habit of taking control of a situation when it calls for it and she’s a super organized and neat person. Everything has it’s place, things are cleaned or done a certain way, and she would rather just do it herself. 

Quinn: His hair and shoes. Listen, Quinn is very boyish in looks (there’s a reason Ryan Gosling is his faceclaim) and his hair is usually neat or done how he wants it. He’s not overbearing about it, he just takes his time with it because he does put care into his appearance. His shoes are shined, his clothes match and his outfit is sharp, he doesn’t go more than a few days without shaving. Once the Collapse happens, it’s one of the things he can control, so he does. Grayson often jokes he’s the prettiest guy of Armageddon, but Quinn laughs with him. 

Wren: She doesn’t like it when other people drive. Having been in a traumatizing car accident, she prefers to be at the wheel for that sense of control. It’s honestly makes her so damn anxious when that’s not the case, and Quinn drives like a damn maniac from time to time in New Dawn. She will cling to something for dear life, and absolutely will backseat drive. It leads to a lot of spats between her and Jane, Quinn, and Ivy. 

Dill: Do they have any rivals?

Blair: I would say that one of the biggest would be John Constantine. Blair is skeptical when it comes to the mystical and supernatural, needless to say, she absolutely does not believe in magic. However, when the Particle Accelerator went off, someone close to her was wearing a totem or a spiritual pendent that got mixed into her meta powers (it’s how she can cosmic project and do some of the things she can with energy manipulation...it also helps balance out her going supernova and such), so...some of her powers are part of the arcane. Johnny knew that the second he met her, so when she gave him grief and became skeptical when he was helping Ollie bring Sara’s soul back, he just smirked at her and went “hate to burst your little bubble, love--” and honestly, they’ve been at it from there.  

Emma: Ha! Emma is competitive and very proud, so yeah, she has rivals, some more fun than others though. For example, her rivalry with Nikolai (and sometimes Price) is who can drink the other under the table. Yuri...well, they ended up in a fist fight on a misunderstanding when they first met, so while he’s working with her and the 141, there’s definitely some rivalry there with them trying to one up the other. She’ll spar with Ghost to see who is better too. Honestly, she’s always up for a challenge, and its something she shares with a lot of her fellow Marines back home--including her cousin and her teammates. 

Quinn: John fucking Seed. Listen, they hate each other, full on loathing, because Quinn isn’t afraid to point out that he’s in a cult and we all know how John is when someone makes him feel insecure and inadequate...with Quinn he very much does, even if that isn’t his intention.  It also doesn’t help that John notices how Quinn looks at his wife from time to time, and he doesn’t appreciate it, but the biggest thing is that Quinn openly challenges him on everything. To Quinn, he wants to poke holes in his logic and show that John isn’t at all what he thinks he is. Quinn is a natural leader, he had been in the Navy, he knows what that looks like and he’s quick to call John out on shit. Wren gives him a bit of a run, too, their rivalry just happens to uh...turn into something else. 

Wren: Holly Pepper and Mary May Fairgrave. Those are the two that gives her the most trouble. In any other scenario (and in most AUs), Wren and Mary May get along just fine, but in canon? Wren straight up punches her in the face. There’s more to it, of course. Wren is being worn down by people wanting her to do this and that for the Resistance, her constantly being pulled in every direction and being forced to give to people without them giving in return. And Mary May wouldn’t shut up about the truck, while saying Wren was dragging her feet on what the Resistance needed done (mostly because Wren was sleeping around with John, but they didn’t know that yet), and Wren just gets overwhelmed with frustration and anger, and straight up punches her in the face and tells her “if you want the truck so damn bad, go get it yourself”, and storms out. Holly Pepper later becomes an issue because she knows John slept around with her, and Holly loves shoving it in Wren’s face. So...Holly ends up dying because she straight up attacks Wren, and Jane helps her with it because she knows that John has a soft spot for Wren. Plus there’s that little shit Quinn in New Dawn...they’re a lot of fun. 

Hollyhock: What's their biggest goal right now?

Blair: Currently, it’s to find her place and stride with the team and her powers. She just wants to not have to lay awake at night and worry she’ll lose control again and hurt her friends and loved ones. Her whole life has changed, and there are still things that are throwing her off. She needs to find her footing again and feel more confident in what she’s become. Helping people, including herself and teammates/friends, is what’s most important to her. 

Emma: As of right now, it’s to regroup and hunt down Makarov. She’s still healing from when Shepherd took out the 141 base and tried to kill her, Ashton, and Nora. The stitches are still healing a bit, but she’s pumped up and ready to take him down. Her goal, and focus, is doing whatever Price and Soap need her to do. It’s almost tunnel vision at this point. 

Quinn: Take down the Highwaymen and fix whatever bullshit Whitney and Wren have going on. He won’t at all pretend he knows what fucking type of politics they have in New Eden, or what rules they’re going by, but it’s very damn clear that Ethan is no good and needs taken down. Him and Grayson came because Carmina asked Rush, and they were never ones to back down from a challenge, not when it comes to helping those in need. So, he’s gonna take down Mickey and Lou, allow Grayson to avenge Rush while protecting Prosperity, and then stand with Wren and Whitney as they take over New Eden.

Wren: That depends on if we’re talking Far Cry 5 or New Dawn, but she’s mostly taking out the head Seed and establishing peace. She’s trying to do what’s right, and whether that’s for herself (which is the eventuality of her changing sides) in Far Cry 5, or for their people and her family in New Dawn (overthrowing Ethan and opening New Eden to more freedoms.) It’s all revolved around Eden’s Gate though, and she agrees to help Quinn and Grayson because she still cares about Kim and Nick, and much of the others, so it’s just a pitstop on her plan. 

Sweet pea: If you had to choose a favorite dessert for them, what would it be?

Blair: Crème Brule, strawberry shortcake, or chocolate lava cake. You could say all of the above, to be honest, she loves sweets. Blair is always snacking, and they’re usually little cakes, fruits, or something sweet. There’s a reason crepes are her favorite breakfast foods, fruit and sweet? Yes. Which I guess you could  add porfait on the breakfast menu too, in that case...anyway, snacking is usually something her and Mick has in common, though she’s not constantly looking for it the way he is. Mick finds food in missions and randomly...Blair is more disciplined than that. She will grab stuff for him a lot of the times if they’re in the same room or if she’s working near him. Leonard just stares between them, he’s not sure what he thinks of their comrade (he also lost his more recent memories, so he can shut it.)

Emma: Dark chocolate cake or tarts. Anything that has a bitter or sour tinge to it, because she’s not really a sweets person. Not when it comes to that, at least. She loves her mom’s sweet tea (and homemade lemonade). But she just would have something like raspberry butter cookies, cherry pie, or even an old fashioned ice cream (yes, with bourbon). She loves dark chocolate though. And tiramisu. 

Quinn: Oh, he loves the Russian desserts his mom would make, and honestly, Quinn has such a sweet tooth. Bird’s milk cake, Russian rugelach, waffle cakes, and especially kartoshka. He would help his mom (or babushka when they would visit Russia), and would eat them with Russian tea they would make. He also enjoys many flavors of gelato. 

Wren: Cheesecake. Without a doubt. She has always been, and will forever be, in love with cheesecake. And all kinds, if we’re being totally honest. She will eat any flavor, she feels strongly about it. You wanna piss her off easily? Eat her cheesecake. Wanna get on her good side again? Bring her cheesecake. John does. Whenever he’s in trouble, he throws a cheesecake on it. She’s constantly eating it to the point Whitney and Rowan have both reminded her that it’s not a meal. Does she listen? No. 

[alarians-history-and-lore]

Violet fire (Flashback)

A group of young Alarian guys, just past their mid twenties, walked together. A wild redhead, a calm looking blond with glasses, and a wild white haired, freckled one.

They talked of science and engineering, all being from the same class together. Wyrran was going on about thermal systems, when Tan'l, the redhead, nudged him.

"Hey. Wyrr. Don't look now, but I think you have a pair of eyes on you." He snickered, poining across the hallway to an absolutely beautiful young woman with a few of her own friends.

She had soft purple eyes and a fluff of slightly blue hair, and she was looking right at him.

Wyrran felt a blush creep up him and shoved Tan'l. "Hey, come on! She's not interested in me. Shut your mouth."

The blond, Keyto, snorted. "Pfff. Come on. She's been eyeing you for weeks. Heard she's really, really firey. Lowkey a little crazy."

Wyrran shook his head. "Ain't got time for girls. Besides. No one's interested in a nerd like me."

He huffed and started walking on, the two others giving each other a look and shaking their heads.

Dense.

--

"Hey."

Wyrran looked up from his book and notes, staring right into a pair of intense purple eyes.

"Hey nerd."

Wyrran tried not to be irritated at the interruption, staring up at her. "Um, yes? I'm studying."

The girl gave him a slightly offended huff, closing his book.

"Hey!"

"C'mon there, egghead. Come out of the pages a while. I want to talk to you." She grinned. "Too busy?"

"Pff. Quit teasing. Girls don't talk to me. Besides. I'm busy." Wyrran huffed, waiting for her to remove her hand from the book so he could find his page.

"I'm talking to you, dummy. Now. I have something to say. You gonna listen or not?"

Wyrran stared up at her lovely royally purple eyes, rolling his diamond ones. "Fine. Make it quick."

Emyyan Tayo was not known for a relaxed or shy disposition. She leaned in, staring him right in the eyes, intense.

"I want to court you." She said firmly.

Wyrran stared at her for a long moment, then started laughing softly. "Me? Come on."

"Yes, Ryfon. You. I. want. You." Emyyan gave him a wild grin. "Now. I'm gonna ask you on a first date, okay?" Emyyan poked him in the shoulder. "The nice little shop near the school, I would like a meal there. I'll pay if you're a coward."

Wyrran was stunned when he realized she was serious."W-what? You... me?? Us??" He blurted out, sputtering.

"See you there tomorrow at lunch." Emyyan grinned, walking away with a flick of her hair.

Wyrran just sat there, watching her walk away. Absolutely stunned.

"What---"

A date? Him? But he wasn't even good looking or charming or buff! All the things that a lady like her would go for in a partner. Him?

She must be playing a joke on him.

--

He sat there, sitting across from her, those intense purple eyes staring right into his soul.

He'd barely touched his food, she'd finished hers.

"So." Emyyan said calmly. "What do you study, eh nerd?"

"Engineering and astronomy. Space-" He stuttered. "Spaceship design."

"Oh. Booooring." She huffed. "Heh. Should have expected that, though. You're boring for such a cute guy."

Wyrran just blinked at her. He couldn't believe the prettiest and most straightforward, firey, absolutely beautiful girl in the entire school had picked him to court.

"I'm studying genetics and experimental stuff. The dangerous new frontiers." Emyyan said proudly. "Stuff like core experiments. You should see the inside of one when its sliced in half."

Wyrran uneasily chuckled, hand going to his core. He wouldn't have the guts to mess with those like that.

"S-sliced...?"

"Yeah. The inside is really neat, like... like... here." She grabbed a pencil and a napkin and drew a large circle. "That's the hard shell." She drew a smaller circle in the middle, and then a bunch of squiggly lines connecting the two. "That's it's heart in the centre, where all the light comes from, where its... brain is. Sorta. And these wiggly bits are the connections between. And then the roots, the conduits grow out from there." She drew some lines out. "We also do tests with them... like with frequencies and stuff. And see how they react to different things. We put one in an animal!" She squeaked excitedly.

Wyrran blinked nervously. She intimidated him. His hand stayed over his heart, an uneasy feeling coming from his core. As if it didn't like the thought of being sliced in half.

"Wow. That's... crazy!" He told her, remembering to try and take another bite of food.

"Sure is. But I'm into it." Emyyan refused to stop staring at him. "Kind of fun."

"Isn't that sort of stuff... frowned upon?" He took a drink.

"Pff. Sort of. But it's a necessary field of science to make progress. I know a lot about cores, space boy." Emyyan grinned. "Did you know they can absolutely grow in nonbiological places?" She leaned forward onto the table. "They can grow with simulated heartbeats. All they need is a steady thing to grow on to. We got one to grow inside a tube." She giggled excitedly.

Wyrran felt more and more uneasy, losing appetite.

"Cores are- are alive! I feel like that would count as- torture." He murmured.

"They- come on. They don't think, dummy." Emyyan snorted. "Sure, they echo the feelings and soul of the one that made them, and the instincts that guide them, but they're not... alive alive. No more really than a tree."

"My mom says plants can have feelings." Wyrran informed her. "She grows all sorts of plants. And she's real good at it, too."

"I'm sure she is." Emyyan said softly, still staring into his eyes.

"Why do you keep... looking at me like that?" Wyrran asked, nervous.

"Because you're hot." Emyyan said frankly. "Very hot."

Wyrran went red as a tomato, freckles vanishing into his blush. "I'm- I'm what??"

"Hot as a gasfire. Smokin." She grinned. "I love your eyes."

Wyrran swallowed, feeling frozen under her gaze.

"So, do you accept my courtship, Ryfon?"

"HhhhhhhhhhhhhhHhh-"

"That's not an answer, really. But I'll take it as a yes." She reached forward and gave him a small touch on the head. "You're my boyfriend now, okay?"

"HHHHHhh-"

"Nice. I'll see you at school tomorrow, Wyrrie!" Emyyan stood up and payed for their food, skipping off happily.

Wyrran sat there staring into space for the next hours.

--

Wyrran was practicing his swordfighting in his yard, slicing at and dodging an imaginary opponent, trying to be as light on his feet as possible.

He'd always had a knack for it. His mother was a bit more of a bow and arrow kind of gal, but the first weapon he'd ever summoned had been his sword. And ever since, he'd been determined to learn everything with it. Become as one as he could with it.

He was gracefully dancing about with it, panting slightly with the sensation of light going up his arm.

Every time one of the tiny living particles that made it up died, another would move to take its place in the sword. A steady flow from the centre of him.

Sure made him feel alive.

He'd gone on dozens of dates with Emy, and he was finally comfortable with her. She was straightforward and firey. A little bit nuts. Impulsive.

She had a softer side to her, but it was rarely seen. Emyyan was absolutely infatuated with him, he could see that.

Love was growing in him for her constantly, but goodness, she was... a lot to handle.

"Hey, Wyrrie!" He jumped at the pet name, turning to see that she'd climbed the fence around his mom's house, and was sitting in her tree. "Nice moves! Think you'd be that good in a bed?" She laughed loudly, jumping out of the tree and walking over to him.

He couldn't help but wonder what weapon she was good with. He stared as she approached, red coming to his face at her... suggestion.

"Dunno." He shrugged. "How's it going, Em?" He asked.

"Very good. You practicing, hmm?" Em put a finger on the edge of the sword, running a finger down it with a flirtatious look in her eyes. "Wanna spar with me, Wy?"

Now this was something he could beat her at, surely. He was pretty good with his sword. The late twenties Wyrran gave her a grin.

"You're on."

"Cool. One thing first." Emyyan leaned in, hand on his sword. "I wanna add in a wager. I win... we finish our courtship. Thzkehz. We bond." She grinned.

Wyrran went red, eyes widening. "Hh??! Already? We've only been... dating for about two years! You want to-"

"What, not confident with your fancy butter knife? Think you can't beat a girl?" Emy teased, running her hand on the blade to the point where it cut her a little. She hummed softly, looking down at the cut on her hand, blood beginning to leak from it.

Wyrran just stared into those amethyst eyes, and then nodded. "Fine. I'll show you what I'm made of, Em. Get ready for a fight." He got into his fighting stance, ready.

Emyyan bunched her cut hand into a fist, light zipping up into it, causing a confident and fast heal. She smiled and wiggled it, barely fazed by the blood. "Challenge has been accepted, then. I'll try not to hurt you."

She held out her hands and summoned a long pole, blades on either side of it, getting into her own stance. She stared him right in the eyes. "You go first, Wyrrie."

He stared at her for a moment, and then went in for a slice, dancing light on his feet. She blocked the blow with her pole, spinning it to block his sword and catching him on his arm with a blade. He winced and backed up immediately, pulling up a shield. She went for him, stabbing with one end of the pole for him. He brought up the sword to block it, moving to hit her with the shield.

She stopped her shield with his hand and kicked him in one of his legs, immediately hitting him with a blunt edge of her pole.

Wyrran hissed in pain and went for a second sword instead of the shield.

They fought back and forth for a while, dancing here and there around the yard, using everything and anything as a part of it. It got pretty intense, and Wyrran had several slices in his shirt, a few of which were bleeding.

He'd only actually hit her twice.

He was panting when she ran for him again, and he took a deep breath, deciding to use something else he was practicing. As she ran at him, he focused energy through his whole body... and just barely managed to teleport. She let out a surprised yelp when he disappeared from in front of her. He hadn't have gone far.

She turned around to see him slicing for her, trying to get a hit off so he could knock her over and win.

She disappeared before he could touch her and a heartbeat later he was on the ground, and she stuck the end of the pole just brushing against the core connection on his spine, where it hit his nervous system.

A spot that if sliced would be very bad. And was considered a little dangerous to be putting weapons near.

He shuddered, swords vanishing. "Em! Holy-"

She pushed it slightly, just slightly into his back, not enough to even go through the skin, but enough that he cried out slightly.

"I win. That means I win."

Wyrran held still, actually terrified. He'd agreed to this. And now...

He swallowed heavily, still frozen under her.

Wyrran had to marry her completely. The act of binding their souls together.

"You fold, Wyrrie?" She asked, voice triumphant. "I've been waiting for this. I wanted you the moment I saw you. Now. Get up." She nudged the spot again, getting a distressed squeak from him, before stepping off of him and letting her pole go.

It took him a moment to recover physically from that poke, standing shakily up. He wasn't ready for this. Courting was one thing... bondage?

Terrified wasn't even close to the feeling in his chest.

He looked over at her, a hand over his slightly shaken, distressed core.

He could feel it shivering inside him from that poke. He gripped at his chest, staring up at her eyes from where he stood, half crouched. "Em... I don't know if-"

Emyyan took a step forward, putting a hand on his chin and forcing him to look up at her.

"Not going back on our wager, are you, Ryfon?" She asked, a serious look in her eyes. "That'd be pretty dishonest of you." She sounded hurt.

Wyrran was just a scared young man, staring into her eyes. Could he say no? He could, right? It was his choice too. He could.

But he... had agreed.

"N-no. We had a deal. You win, we bind."

He couldn't tear his eyes from her.

She smiled warmly. "Oh, wonderful. I can't wait. Shall we?"

"Wh- what about your family's permission? The ceremony?" He sputtered. "Now?"

Emyyan shook her head. "As if I respect my deadbeat of a dad enough to ask his permission to marry the man I love. Besides. We just fought. And I won. That was the ceremony, as far as I'm concerned. I'm ready, Wyrrie." She pulled him in and kissed him.

Eito, she was hot. And sassy.

Wyrran chuckled a little, even if this filled him with butterflies. He was... well, he'd be lying if he said he wasn't curious.

He let her drag him away into the house, knowing his mom wasn't home right now.

This... this was it.

The woman he was going to spend his life with.

Wyrran would give his all for her.

--

"Are you working on that dumb spaceship again?" Wyrran looked up from his sketches and design ideas to see Emyyan there, an annoyed look on her face.

He ducked a little. "Uh... yes?" He gave her a small smile. "I told you Em, it's my dream. To fly."

She rolled her eyes and sat across from him. "Huh. Well. I think you should get your head out of the stars, hun. And focus on this. We're married. Remember?"

Wyrran blinked at her. "I- I know. But... I can't help it. The stars call to me. Always have." He held up the sketch he'd made of an egg shaped ship. "See? It's going to have....probably three engines. And... plenty of room for a whole family, when we start one up. I mean, not that we haven't been trying, anyway. But once it happens. We can all fly together!"

Emyyan looked annoyed. "I don't want to leave. I like it just fine on the ground." She huffed. "I don't want to go careening through the empty void. There's nothing but danger and terror and empty, vast, boring wastes out there. What even is so exciting?"

"Adventure. Intrigue. It's beautiful out there... and I promise I'll show you the beauty." Wyrran assured her gently.

Emyyan stared at the sketch in his hands, dubious at best. "Huh. Well. Besides that, there's something I want to tell you. Get over here, babe."

Wyrran nodded and walked over to her, and she stood, grabbing his hands. Their eyes met.

He blushed, staring warmly at her. A year and a half ago now, they'd binded. Sealed it. He adored her.

He leaned in and gave her a kiss, and she giggled.

Emyyan leaned forward, staring intently into his eyes. She pressed both his hands against her lower body. "We've been trying... hard. And we did it. Finally. I started... I started feeling it a little while ago. I'm at the very least a month or so in."

Her eyes widened, filled with excitement and warmth.

"I'm with child, Wyrran." She said it warmly, eyes staring into his soul.

Wyrran's jaw dropped open. He stared at her in disbelief, hands pressing softly against her for a moment, and then he felt a little lightheaded when it hit him.

"Hhhh???" He made confused and startled noises, and then stumbled back a bit. "You're- you're- Ohhhhh. Oh boy. Oh-" He had to lean against the wall, trying not to fall over. "Oh. Oh Ralin. Oh boy."

"Don't hyperventilate, dear." She giggled, watching him sort of fold into himself. "Breathe, okay?"

He started laughing breathily, weakly. "Oh my gosh I'm going to- I'm going to be a dad! I'm a father! I--- ohhh my head." Wyrran looked up at her, standing there. "Em... you feel okay? No... no hiccups yet?"

"I got a few this morning. That's when I decided to tell you." She smiled. "You know what this means? It means we have to stay."

He blinked, confused. "Huh?"

"We have to stay on Alar. You wouldn't seriously take a little baby to space." She said it like it was certain.

Wyrran straightened slightly, even still feeling lightheaded. "Well, by the time we get the ship built and ready, the little one would be more than old enough. I'm only just starting build-" He paused.

"You've-- you've started?" Emyyan sounded ticked. "Are you kidding me?" She stomped a foot. "Wyrran! I said I don't want to go to space! I said you choose it or me!"

Wyrran shrunk under her gaze. He'd started work on the ship without telling her a month into their marriage, actually. He had several designs in mind... but had pretty much narrowed down what he wanted at that point. "Uhhhh... Emmie?"

"Don't you Emmie me. Where is it. Where are you hiding that stupid metal death machine?" She glared. "I'll have some people come and scrap it."

"No! Why would you do that? It's- it's my life's dream and you know it!" Wyrran yelled back. "Don't, please! I- I'm working so hard on this because... even if I don't fly with you, I still want to go some day! Please, Em, don't take it away from me. Please." The joy of the moment was ruined, replaced by indignation.

He so rarely fought back about anything, but this... this was something he was serious about.

"Wyrr. It's time to let the dream go. It's just not for us. This is what you need to focus on." Her hand went over her belly. She wasn't even showing yet. The little one was still so small... He stared down and then back up at her. "Like I said. Choose that-" She gestured to the drawings of space and machines and ships. "Or this." She gestured to herself. "Because I am not going to space. You have about ten months to think about it." Emyyan turned and walked off, still mift at him.

"Oh boy." Wyrran whispered to himself, half collapsing against the wall.

What would mom do?

He... he was going to be a father.

That scared him.

--

He winced as the door slammed practically in his face. He opened it again and watched her leave, not even looking back at him.

She was leaving to live at her old place.

The yelling, the screaming, she'd thrown things at him.

He blamed it half on the hormones, really.

"I hate your stupid ship! And I hate you! And- and- and I hate this child!" She had yelled. "You're stubborn and stupid and I can't believe I ever fell in love with you! I don't want anything to do with you ever again, Wyrran Ryfon!"

And that was it.

She just left. He watched her from the door, tears streaming down his cheeks. He'd messed it all up. He'd ruined it. She would never forgive him after this, for sure.

Rubbing at the spot on his face where she had slapped him... hard, he closed the door and moved to sit down at the table.

Why was it... so hard...?

He curled in on himself, crying. He'd clean up the mess later.

--

The letter came only a week later.

He had to force himself to open it. It was addressed from Emyyan Tayo. Not Ryfon.

He sighed and settled in his chair to read it.

To whom it concerns:

Yes, Wyrran, that means you,

As far as I'm concerned, we are no longer bonded. No longer married. From now on, we live apart as strangers. You are not to talk to me. Or approach me. Understand? I do NOT want you. Knowing you, you'll be blaming yourself for this.

Good.

It is your fault.

Now, as for our unborn child.

I do not want it.

As soon as it is born, it's yours. I no longer care about it, about you, about your stupid dream. You refused to let it go when I pleaded, begged. I just wanted a life with you. And you couldn't even give me that.

So in nine months, it will be the last time I expect to ever interact with you.

They give you the kid.

You leave.

Never, ever try and come after me.

I'll-

There were some scribbles on that part. They ran down a couple lines, as if she'd changed her mind a few times.

Just don't. I can't take it.

Be at the healing centre when they call you. I'll have that taken care of so I never have to worry about any of it again.

Goodbye.

- Emyyan Tayo

And that was all that he had left of her.

Wyrran put the letter down, hands shaking.

He was sobbing.

He'd ruined his whole chance with her, and for a stupid ship.

He summoned his sword and drove it into the table with a frustrated curse, the wood splintering.

Wyrran immediately regretted it. That was the table he'd grown up at.

He let out a distressd, long wail and collapsed back into the chair, curling in on himself, shaking with anger and fear and... and brokenness.

He was a stupid fool.

And he had only one thing left.

This child.

He would...

Wyrran would give his all for that child.

All he had left in him.

[weaselsmuses-aa]

hey human hcs again because fuck it its revamp time

Ft: My muses && Some others that i just happen to have hcs for.

My muses + oc’s in collab w friends.

Topaz!!

Age: 16

Grade: Sophomore

Born in South Korea

Became something of a musical sensation back home, and is famous for her music mixing.

Became independent at 15, moved to the states a year later with the desire to see what America was like, hollywood in particular.

Lives in an apartment with Saphir, her senior classmate and good friend.

Pastel vibes

Sassy vibes (Much more sassy than gem topaz :o)

MomTM friend. She mediates and keeps the peace. Also will give great life advice.

Judges silently, but says nothing if she has nothing nice to say. (But she’ll think it.)

Currently has a job as a DJ at a local skating rink where her friends hang out. Gets them free food and games..

Hoping to make it big in the US so she can stay after she graduates.

Parents living overseas and helping pay for her life and schooling in the states.

She spends summers in Korea where she visits her family and tours, records music.

Part of the art club and spends a lot of time in the music rooms. She isn’t in Choir, Band or Orchestra, but is in music theory and guitar. Has a LOT of friends in all those programs.

Swiss (birth name: Sage)

Age: 16-17

Grade: Sophomore.

Swiss was born in Switzerland, but has also lived in South Korea for 5 years (where she met Topaz), London for 2, and now the US where she started high school.

Lives with her Father who is from Switzerland, her mom who was born in the UK, and her baby sister Kyanite

Class goofball and classic slacker but somehow still passes and knows the material.

‘ Whoops, I forgot my homework again’ type

Dye’d her hair blue at 14, pierced both her nose, lips, and several places in her ear. 

Depressed and tired. Brings rockstar energy’s to class a lot.

Punk Rock vibes, but wears her uniform rather well. Her messenger bag is tricked out with a lot of music festival patches and pins though.

Her and Topaz both are those kids that have earbuds and beats headphones on all the time. She gets in trouble for listening to rock in class. Or talking.

Has a band, and is the main drummer and back up vocalist.  The band was her idea, but she gives her friends a lot of freedom. Since drumming is her passion she doesn’t mind not being the lead vocalist.

Crushing on / Dating the richest girl in the school (Aquamarine ‘Marie’)

Doesn’t have a job, but thinking about getting a part time one at the record shop near her house.

Oversleeps A LOT. IS late to class a lot. Usually her detentions are from tardiness (or saying some smart ass comment to be funny and getting in trouble for it)

Very protective of her little sister, and gets along well with her in private, despite pretending that she irritates her.

No after school activities for her thanks. That stuffs lame. (Though she does wander in and hang out with the game club sometimes)

Kyanite (Ky)

Age: 14-15

Grade: 8th

One of the pretty MeanTM girls in middle school. Rather high on the social pecking order due to being an upperclassmen and being a cutie with an attitude.

Fashion sense a mix between soft grunge, a touch of punk and more flowing feminine outfits, or neat and prim /professional outfits. Whatever she decides, she likes to look good.

Very talented at doing her make up and nails, tends to have a lot of requests from other girls her age for help in that dept.

Looks up to her sister a lot more than she lets on. Lowkey wants to be involved in a lot of what she does after school. (She even begged her parents to let her dye her hair blue as well right after Swiss did (She was 12 at the time))

Love’s shopping and collecting outfits and cute little butterfly themed things for her room.

While she’s in the ‘popular’ circle of girls in her grade, shes not particularly stuck up when it comes to other kids. She can be mean, but its usually to just as entitled kids. She’s rather tame and even friendly with less popular kids in her grade. She’s very comfortable around them and enjoys not being put on a pedestal all the time

Romance obsessed. (Duh)

Wishes she could get a piercing and a tattoo like her sissy, but her parents only let her pierce her ears. 

A’s in most of her classes, but struggles in History. It’s a snoozefest to her.

Currently in band and debate team. (She plays flute)

Takes FOR-E-VER to get ready to leave the house. (Hey, its not ALWAYS swiss’s fault shes’ late.)

Best friends in school are Livie and Bebe.

Spends a lot of time after school for Band practice, Debate team activities, or supporting her bestie Bebe in her cheer practice.

Really likes sneaking in the upperclassmen building. No one’s cute in her grade :/ (according to her)

Likes to fake being sick so she can go home early. way too often.

Bonus’es! 

ft some of my other... (albiet co-op) oc’s / and aquamarine cus i can

Bebe

Age: 14-15

Grade: 8th

Met Kyanite in 6th grade and they instantly hit it off well.

Bubble gum pink hair, and really likes fashion. Always obsessed with wearing the cutest combo of clothes she can come up with.

Really sweet and bubbly on the surface, but she isn’t called a bubblegum bitch for nothing. She knows shes popular and will often trick the vulnerable into believing they have social status only to humiliate them when she sees fit.

A little bit bitchier than Ky. Not that she wants to be mean actively, she just kind of ......is how we say.....spoiled brat.

As long as her best friend cares about someone she does too.

When she actually does accept you, shes a very sweet and almost loyal to the point of irritation.

Crushing on Kyanite, kissed her at a party and has kind of never got over it.

Serial dater. Literally she has a new sweetie every week. its tiring.

Junior Varsity Cheer Team and Drama club are her life.

When she’s not doing those things, she’s spending her time in her Juniors bowling team. They go to tourney during summer.

Parents aren’t filthy rich but they are not hurting for money in any shape or form. Shes always got whatever she wanted.

Loves getting gifts, and will almost try and bug people into sending her stuff to homeroom during holidays. Either because she wants STUFF or for her own popularity.

Might be kind of bitchy but really does feel bad and get upset if people point that out about her. I wouldn’t say she /wants/ to be a bad person. her parents never told her no and nor how to not be self centered.

Very talkative and upbeat. Wants to inspire her friends and lift them up.

On the other end, is a big gossip and bad about spreading rumors and stirring up drama with people she isn’t a fan of.

Show her a cute animal and she’ll sob. I mean the whole 9 yards.

 Marie  . (Aquamarine.)

Age: 17-18

Grade: 12th

Born and raised in London for the majority of her life.  She’s also lived in France for 3 years during an abroad program her parents sent her to where she met one of her closest friends (Astrid)

Her parents are filthy stinkin rich and own a foreign luxurious fashion company and a luxury car company.

Livie is her baby sister and she often tries to pretend like thats not the case. (She loves her guys i swear)

Stuck up, bratty, and just an overall bitch. She RELISHES in it. Marie KNOWS shes mean, popular and has power and she’s proud.

“you can’t sit with me, you can’t talk to me, you aren’t good enough to even know me.”

Her desire for power has her gunning for valedictorian (cue her and satoshit fighting to the death), and she’s currently the president of student government. Thats right. She’s deciding school functions and your future you little peasant fucks.

Will shove her riches and status down your THROAT oh my goooodddd

Throws HUGE parties when her parents are out of town, uses it as a tool to make the popular kids/upperclassmen love her even more and show the ‘losers’ where their place is.

Always has to look THE best in the school, and will probably murder anyone who threatens to take her places as prom queen (i kid i kid.........maybe)

Hangs out with Astrid and Mae when they’re in town.

Has a type that does not fall in line with her image (coughcough Swiss cough) and will do a LOT to keep in a secret. But....listen....she also can’t hide it well. Like...not even a little. She gay.

She’s always seen with her posse of popular girls and her two primary school friends the topazes. They’re just the schools huge UNITS of lesbian quarterbacks, their fists as big as your face, they wont squash you, promise. (look at marie wrong once bitch.)

Will die of embarrassment of her sister livie. Unfortunately is responsible for her in a lot of ways. Driving her back and forth from school, taking her to school functions and much more. (She loves her....double pinky swear) But she claims they aren’t related. (no one believes this hoe) That don’t mean she wont DESPERATELY try to pawn her off for the day. Babysitter? Butler? Anyone? SOMEONE?

Will absolutely use Livie as a means to hang out with Swiss via playdates. Oh yeah, she knows their baby sisters are besties. It’s free real estate.

Has expressed to Swiss that she wishes they could trade sisters. ( I swear marie loves livie deep down in this essay I will----)

In a wealth measuring contest with Satoshit 24/7

Is CONSTANTLY going on overseas trips. She will never stop bragging about it.

Consumed mostly by Student Government and Theatre.

[tacitwhisky]

Sansa Stone: Story Autopsy

Photo Credit: Sophie Starke

Sansa Stone is a little unusual as a story as I had the whole thing outlined, and even released the outline, before I started writing it. As such I thought it would be fun to go through the original outline and look out how and why it changed in the actual writing. I love reading this kind of thing when other writers do it, and there’s nothing writers like more than talking about themselves. It also just helps me think through my decisions and hopefully become a better writer.

Note that this will only really make sense if you've already read the story. Which you really should, I'm quite good at writing. You can also find the original outline I released and will be quoting here. The original prompt was:

Sansa really is born as petyr baelish’s bastard, who he persuades Robert to legitimize and raises from a toddler as his heir. Sansa somehow meets Jon and falls like an avalanche. bonus points if she gets daddy to help her marry jon.

The idea of Sansa as Petyr’s true bastard immediately clicked with me and got me thinking how it would’ve shaped Sansa: in canon she’s at the top of the social ladder and by the time she becomes Alayne her personality is already set. How does it change if she’s been shaped since she was a child with the stigma attached to bastards in westeros? That ended up being such an interesting idea to me that I kind of forgot the part about Robert legitimizing her. That’s kind of how prompts and ideas work sometimes; you pursue the parts that speak to you and discard the parts that don’t.

In canon Petyr actually did have a bastard with Lysa Tully, but it was aborted by her father. For this AU let’s assume that child wasn’t aborted and Petyr took her after she was born, though no one but him and Lysa know her true parentage. It explains why this Sansa has red hair and the Tully look. He names her Sansa after one of Catelyn’s favorite songs because he is a massive creep, and also Stone because he says she was born in the Vale (but mostly because to me Sansa Stone sounds a lot better than Sansa Rivers).

This seemed like a really tidy and neat way of making the premise work, and also opens up all kinds of interesting plot opportunities. Now, in an outline its relatively fine to frontload all this exposition, but in the actual story itself, putting it at the beginning obviously doesn’t work. At first I tried to move the reveal to the middle of the feast (the section where Sansa kind of zones out before she starts drinking), but it didn’t really work there, and eventually got moved to the end of the chapter.

Partly this is because reveals like that add narrative momentum and escalation, but mainly the move was just logistical: Sansa’s true birth is too much information to unload on the reader all at once. Because I decided to start the story when Sansa first meets Jon (I’ll go into that in a moment), there’s already a huge amount of world building and exposition that has to fit cleanly and organically into a very small space: who Jon is, what Sansa thinks of him, the physical setting, the rest of Sansa’s backstory.

To slap on top of that all of the backstory of her being a secret cousin to the Starks is a lot, and it just hurt the flow of the chapter, and story, as a whole. Putting that material at the end of the first chapter also just gives it a lot more space to breath and be explored.

(I actually considered just cutting that entire part of Sansa’s backstory because it would slim down the story and doesn’t really add anything on a plot level, but ultimately it felt too important to her character’s interiority to cut)

Sansa Stone spends the first five or so years of her life being raised in Petyr’s old home, with him visiting her sporadically. When she’s six he takes her back to Kingslanding with him and quickly begins teaching her how to navigate court life. Dearly she’s always loved songs and ladies and kings and queens, but now that she’s at court Sansa finds the reality different to what she thought. As a bastard she can only ever be on the fringes of all she’s ever wanted.

She clings to her courtesies and ladylike behavior (sewing, singing, etc) because on some level she believes that if she can excel at those maybe, just maybe, they can make up for her bastard birth. Her sexuality is also something she’s much more aware of then in canon; as a girl thought to be base by nature men feel comfortable leering at, even knights and lords she thought noble. It disillusions her and makes her think of herself as dirty or tainted somehow. Not that she shows it beneath her smiles and courtesies.

Keeping all of the core Sansa things (ladylike aspirations, love of songs, idealism) but changing the context fundamentally changes in a lot of ways her reasons for doing them, and that’s such a fascinating idea and character to explore to me.

There’s a world where I write Sansa’s childhood and upbringing in Kingslanding in a kind of lyrical, lilting passage of time chapter before the rest of the story. And while I love writing that kind of thing, for this story it felt like an unnecessary approach. I’m a big proponent of starting stories as close to the middle as possible, and the ‘scenes’ of this story really start at the next part when Sansa actually arrives at Winterfell, so it made the most sense to start there. Considering most of the above material got folded into the first chapter pretty easily and cleanly, I think it was the right decision.

Sansa meets Jon when she journeys north with the king’s procession when Robert goes to ask Ned to be Hand. There in Winterfell she meets Jon sitting exiled at the low table during the feast. She approaches Ghost, and Ghost lets her scratch him behind the ears, which surprises Jon. She asks about Ghost and they talk, bastard to bastard, connecting despite their differences in temperament. He tells her his plan to go to the Wall. The black knights of the Wall, she tells him she remembers them called. A noble cause. 

I did a thing here that’s fine when first writing an outline (when all that’s important is getting the idea no matter how rough on the page), but is a bad habit of mine and is a pain if I don’t fix it in a second draft. And that thing is that I tend to skip over specifics in outlines.

I want to stress that this is fine to do in a first outline. Really. But when you go to expand it in prose it causes problems. ‘They connect despite their differences in temperament’ seems fine, but what are the actual words involved in illustrating it? In turning it into actual dialogue? Being vague and skipping over that stuff has become the bane of my existence with outlines. To combat it I often go through an outline and highlight the points where I skipped over details to force myself to try and fill them out before starting on the actual prose.

So, for example, in my first outline I wrote after the above:

Sansa witnesses Jon’s conversation with Benjen and him storming out of the hall.

And in my second draft of the outline I expanded it to:

Benjen straddles the bench on the other side of Jon. My lady, Benjen greets her with a tilt of his head. He grins at Jon. I’d know idea you kept such beautiful company. Jon flushes and mumbles something. Sansa understands. She’s well used to being a bastard, to be considered base, to be flirting with a man simply by sitting next to him. She answers Benjen’s compliment with a smile though, tells him that Jon has been most kind to let her sit next to him. She’s only a simple southern girl, after all, and unused to the north.

This is more fleshed out, and gives me more hooks to lay the prose and dialogue on when it comes to write the scene. One thing I wanted to emphasize is just how constantly aware of her social position and image Sansa is, that she knows she’s a sexualized object.

This is also a good example of how something can say ok in an outline, and then not work when you go to write it. Having Jon be embarrassed by Sansa seemed ok when I was outlining it: he’s drunk and easily embarrassed to begin with, and it’s a very human reaction. When I actually wrote it out though, it mostly just came off like Jon being a dick. And it also just didn’t feel like it fit his character. Right from the first chapter of A Game of Thrones he appears in he’s someone who’s willing to sacrifice having a direwolf of his own so that his brothers and sisters can have theirs.

Once I changed it I realized (though I really should’ve before) how important it is to the entire chapter and story that Jon stand up for Sansa here, how it’s part of his strength of character that Sansa is attracted to, the boy who really tries to live up to the songs.

She witnesses his conversation with Benjen and him storming out of the hall. Maybe she follows him and comforts him after, or maybe just watches from the benches. Either way, in the dark scheming Petyr part of herself she doesn’t like to acknowledge, a plan starts to form in Sansa’s mind. For years Petyr has petitioned Robert to legitimize her, but always been rebuffed. But Jon’s father will be Hand soon, and he could legitimize her. She could charm Jon, Petyr has taught her how to use her sweet smile that way, and have him lobby his father to legitimize her.

One of my all time favorite conflicts for a character to have is between doing what they know is right on the one hand, and what their desperate and selfish want on the other. It’s such a lovely source of angst and also a really legitimate conflict we all go through in life. Hopefully if I’ve done my job right as a writer, the audience feels just how desperately Sansa no longer wants to be a bastard.

Through Jon she could finally be a bastard no longer, but that would require manipulating him not to go to the Wall, and the only way to do it would be to seduce him, bed him; he would marry her for honor after that, she knows, a son of Lord Stark could do no less and Jon has vowed to father no bastards. But too, it wouldn’t be right.

I ended up deciding to move this specific thing, baby trapping Jon, to later in the story for escalation and because it just felt sort of abrupt and out of left field this early on. It’s another example of how tone and pacing in an outline can get kind of wonky and not work when it’s dramatized in prose.

Separately, I’m not entirely happy with how the last third of this chapter turned out after Benjen leaves. Generally it’s bad writing to have a character simply sit around and think about things; which is what Sansa does here for nearly a thousand words. In the case of this story I think it works because of how well the scene otherwise plays out and where the reader’s interest lies, but I’m not sure I could get away with it in an original story where the reader wasn’t already so invested in Sansa. It’s an example of how writing original fiction and fanfiction can be very different.

In the following days Sansa meets with Jon and spends time with him, tries to shove down and not listen to the whispers of Petyr’s voice that tell her she could entrance him easily, so easily. She finds herself drawn to Jon in a way none of the squires at court have ever interested her, something intriguing in his dark eyes and long face. It’s strange, makes her feel naked to be the one that wants instead of being wanted.

This is the part of the story that got expanded the most. What’s a paragraph here ends up being a full chapter. I originally wanted to keep it just in lyrical montage, but that’s always my instinct and not always what’s best for the story. There’s still a little of that summarizing in the middle of the released chapter, but it’s bookended by two solid scenes.

I’m going to quote from the completed version of the fic for a bit because otherwise this turns into just a wall of text. I’ll let you know when we get back to the original outline.

“I’m not a lady. Not yet.” Arya scrunches her nose, but seems to suddenly remember her own courtesies, and gives a grudging curtesy back. She eyes Sansa curiously. “Why don’t you have to do needlework?”

I originally wasn’t going to have Arya show up in the scene where Sansa and Jon watch the boys sparring in the yard, but the Stark girls are simply too great a dynamic not to explore at least a little, especially with how it would change with Sansa as a bastard.

Now, I did want to avoid the trope fic writers tend to fall into when they write divergent fic like this where the characters are all chummy and the conflicts in canon are ironed out just because one character was raised different. It always feels like wish fulfillment to me and like the character conflicts in canon are some puzzlebox to be fixed.

And ultimately it felt right to me that Sansa and Arya even in this universe wouldn’t get along that well. In all likelihood they would probably actually get along worse since they don’t have that sister bond under their disagreements: though their relationship might be interesting to explore how it grows once they’re both in the Red Keep.

(I also just find it endlessly hilarious that Sansa thinks that she and Arya would closer if they were raised together. You sweet summer child, you.)

Another route I thought about going down is having Sansa be resentful of Arya: after all Arya has everything she’s ever wanted and more or less just spits on it. I read an excellent meta once talking about how in canon that’s why Jeyne is so mean to Arya. Despite being better at feminine pursuits and closer with Sansa, because of her birth she’ll never be as good as Arya.

I ultimately didn’t go down this route just because it didn’t feel right: it makes Sansa a less likable character, and this Sansa is still a very kind character who doesn’t even know Arya well enough to warrant that kind of bitterness. It also undercuts the longing Sansa has in this world for siblings or family of some kind beside Petyr who is a creep.

Sansa grins back and combs back her hair from a gust of wind, looks out at the rolling and empty hills around them. There is a bleak beauty to them and the blue-grey sky and chill wind, and despite how different it is from Kingslanding Sansa feels a desperate yearning inside her to never leave, feels as though she could spend all her life here and be happy.

I liked the concept of Sansa in this world feeling out of place, there being some kind of echo of canon in her situation, an itch she can’t quite scratch. It’s also an interesting contrast to canon where Sansa is perfectly happy to go south and is coded more with southern courtly culture than the north initially. In this verse she’s already been disabused of her view of songs and chivalry and just like Jon has a deep yearning for belonging. Home for a bastard is a fickle thing, and really a metaphor for the way they’re inherently destabilizing to the westerosi social hierarchy and can thus never fit into it. It’s something I explore a lot in my Jon of the Kingsguard fic too.

Jon bursts into laughter, easy and warm, and Sansa has the sudden and reckless urge to lean across the gap between their horses and taste it, press her lips to his and find out if it’s as warm and free as it sounds. Squire after squire, knight after knight, lord after lord of the Red Keep has flirted and courted and wanted her. Comely and ugly, fair and dark, bold and shy, laughing and serious: all had wanted her and none had ever made her feel like this, flushed and breathless and skin tingling with each brush of the wind. The feeling is strange, uncomfortable, and Sansa looks out to the hills around them, longing for something she doesn’t understand blooming painfully beneath her breastbone.

I played around a lot in this scene with how much Sansa should realize her attraction to Jon. It’s such an interesting idea to me that Sansa is perfectly fluent in one half of attraction but not the other: she knows with exhausting detail what it’s like to have men be attracted to her, but has never really felt much of an attraction to anyone to the point where she probably doesn’t even realize that’s supposed to be a part of love.

After all, in a lot of those chivalric songs they talk a lot about the knights love for the maiden, but kind of skip over her interest in him (this attitude is still really, really common in our media nowadays). It’s part of the way chivalry in westeros makes women into objects. Wanting and hunger on the part of the woman is destabilizing because it isn’t under male control, and thus is gross and wanton and penalized.

“Winterfell.” The word is sad and hopeful and longing all in one, and something in it clouds Jon’s eyes. He looks down at the reins in his hand. “I dreamed of my father naming me his heir and giving me Winterfell, of becoming it’s lord.” He shakes his head, voice touched with an old and bitter shame. “I would never betray Robb like that. Never. But still I couldn’t stop imagining what it would be like if it was mine. If only we’d born opposite. I know I shouldn’t, that it’s a bastard’s curse to be envious and faithless-”

“It isn’t.” Sansa reaches over and touches Jon’s arm, voice hot. “It isn’t, Jon. We- there’s nothing wrong with wanting. Not for us. We cannot help what we want.”

If there’s a central theme to this story, it’s wanting, and whether it’s right or wrong to want. For both women and bastards it’s wrong to want because it destabilizes the westorosi social contract, and so both Jon and Sansa have internalized a certain amount of self hate for wanting the things they want. And they’re not dumb: they both know that taking the things they want will hurt others, Robb and Jon respectively. And that’s kind of the resolution of the theme by the end of the story: it’s ok to want, but you shouldn’t hurt others to get what you want.

Getting back to the original outline:

After Bran falls Sansa comforts Jon in his grief. I can’t stay at Winterfell, he tells her quietly. She bites her lip, because in that moment she knows he’s teetering, that she has him, that in this moment of weakness she could kiss him and comfort him and let him have her body. She cradles his head and they kiss, and it unlocks something in Sansa, a desperate yearning, an ache to have him inside her. It would be so easy. So easy to tangle her fingers in his shirt and draw him down to his bed.

This mostly stayed the same, just expanded and dramatized. I also punched up why Sansa’s attracted to Jon, not just that he tries to stay true to idealism and songs, but that he doesn’t have the objectified and hyper-sexualized view of her that others do. And as I mentioned above, Sansa doesn’t really understand wanting someone for herself, and thus it’s so much harder for her to control herself.

I should mention that in the abstract this whole element of Sansa’s sexual desire being tied up with moral wrongdoing is kind of super problematic considering how much female sexuality tends to get penalized, but for some reason I feel like in the actual implementation it isn’t too bad? I tried to make it clear here and later that her sexuality and wanting isn’t wrong, just the consequences of it in this specific situation.

But Sansa forces herself to break their kiss, rests her forehead against his and takes a deep breathe. Jon pulls back, an apology already on his tongue, but she shakes her head firmly and smiles at him even as she can feel a hole yawning open in the pit of her gut at the thought of never seeing him again.

One of the hardest things for me to write is a character drawing back from the brink of temptation. They can’t almost do something, and have every reason to do something, and then just not do it. As a writer you have to find some element that sparks them to make the right decision. Here it’s Littlefinger’s creepy inner voice that makes Sansa realize what she’s doing isn’t right and is something she’ll be ashamed of later.

Littlefinger in this story as a whole was a little tricky to write. I wanted it to be clear that there wasn’t any actual sexual abuse between him and Sansa, but I still wanted a certain amount of his creepiness and possessiveness to come through: for example, when I describe in the first chapter his breath rasping her ear or him stroking her cheek.

Even in the completed chapter the, ‘Let him do as he likes with you, take comfort in you, spill his seed in you’ / ‘Let it happen, sweetling. It will be over soon’ she mentally hears him say is pretty rapey language. It’s there to emphasize the control he has over how Sansa views herself, and the ways she’s been shaped to be passive in her sexuality.

The next day the king’s procession makes ready to go south and Sansa slides up on to her horse. Jon rides up to her and despite the sadness in her Sansa offers him good luck on his journey north, tells him he will make a fine knight of the black. Jon looks at her a moment before answering, gaze intent. I’m not going north, he tells her softly, I’m going south to Kingslanding with my father. Sansa’s heart leaps into her throat, and she smiles, not the carefully manicured expression Petyr taught her, but a blinding and uninhibited thing. And together, the two turn their horses south.

This is an example of something that makes sense when you write in an outline, and then you write the thing and it doesn’t quite make sense any more. Once I’d made it such a point that Jon didn’t want to leave without saying goodbye to Bran, I couldn’t just have him up and leave at the end of the chapter. Having Jon promise to follow Sansa also leaves the ending a little more bittersweet, which fits the tone better (it also opens up all kinds of sequel plottage if I ever decided to go there).

It’s a bit of a thematic cop-out to have Jon just decide to not go to the Wall: Sansa’s challenge in this fic is to do the right thing despite how she has to sacrifice her happiness for it. For her then to get what she wanted anyway kind of betrays and undermines that theme. But, you know, I’m not Hemingway and I’m not trying to write the next great American novel. I mostly just want my favorite characters to smush faces.

---

In all, while I love all my stories, this is one of my favorites so far. There’s so much thematic and character richness to this version of Sansa, and the way she relates to Jon. I have an idea of where it would go if I ever decide to continue and have a few chapters outlined, but there’s a few factors in why I probably won’t write it.

First, I have too many WIPs right now. Second, while I know where this story would go for a few chapters, continuing it past that turns it into a full on series AU and that sounds exhausting. I kind of did that with Jon of the Kingsguard, and even cutting out a bunch of canon elements that turned into fourteen chapters and 50k words. And third, I kind of want to file off the serial numbers and turn this fic into an original story, especially if I’m going to write a novel sized continuation of it anyway.

Basically, the future is a little unclear for this fic, but I do genuinely love it and this version of Jon and Sansa. Hopefully you did to.

(If there’s any specific part of this fic that I didn’t talk about here that you want me to go more in depth with, just hit me with an ask or quote it in the ask box and I’ll expound on it.)

[jzixuans]

Gosh I Hope This doesn't Tell You The TimeI Submitted It

Great title I know. Listen I was just watching Fbawtft and thinking about your AU and then this happened. And now I’m sending it to you, because late night brain says we should do that and I don’t have any awake brain cells to argue, so here goes.

    Logan stepped off the ferry, happy to find the ground firm beneath his feet once more. He paused at the end of the boarding ramp, taking a deep breath.

    And immediately regretted it when he was met with a scent that was a mix of raw fish and smoke. He dissolved into a coughing fit, already missing Equatorial Guinea, with its fresh air and open plains and no one rudely poking his back because he happened to be slightly in their way.

    Logan stepped to the side, shrugging his shoulders and ignoring the slight soreness where the person had been poking. Alright. Off to business.

    The smell didn’t get any better as he headed into the city, the fish being replaced with more smoke, and new mingling scents of sweat and dust. It was choking. Logan would have considered using his handkerchief to cover his nose, but entering the city also came with hordes of people pressing in from all sides. He felt crushed enough just trying to follow the flow of the crowd.

    Someone bumped into him rather harshly, causing him to stumble into someone else. Logan caught himself before he fell any further, both of the random someones once more disappearing into the throng before he could do or say anything to either of them. Brushing off his jacket, he didn’t notice his suitcase shake, or the fact that one of the buckles flipped open.

    Logan continued on his path once again, more people brushing past him without a single apology uttered. He managed another five more minutes before he gave up, quickly pushing out of the crowd so he could just breathe for a moment.

    His hair was undone, his jacket ruffled, and he had bumped enough shoulders to last a lifetime. Logan huffed. He didn’t understand people. He especially didn’t understand anyone who preferred them over creatures. Sure, doxies may have a sharp bite and a problem with poisoning every one they sunk their teeth into, but they didn’t rush right into and then keep going like they had just bumped into a mannequin.

    He knew he’d prefer a doxy bite any day of the week over five more minutes of this madness, Logan thought as he set his case down and set about pulling his hair back into the neat, collected ponytail it had been in.

    Busy with his hair, Logan didn’t notice his case shake again, nor did he notice as a dark, fuzzy little creature slipped out of the small gap. Just ahead of them, a man bent over to tug at his shoelaces, his golden watch catching the light, and the creature’s attention.

    Just as Logan finished with his ponytail and picked his suitcase up once more, now noticing the open buckle and responsibly flipping it shut, the creature darted forward into the crowd. Logan frowned at the buckle he had just snapped back into place.

The case was as heavy as always, heavy as it would be whether or not the Titanic was stuffed inside it, but Logan still knew something was wrong. Someone was missing. Maybe it was magic, maybe it was instinct, maybe it was just the common sense that if the buckle was open at least one of his creatures would try and make a break for it. Regardless of how he knew, Logan knew: one of them was free.

He looked in front of him, finding the smaller, stationary crowd he had paused by to escape the constantly churning, moving, flowing one behind him gathered on the steps of some muggle building, all focused on one loudly speaking muggle lady.

A moment later, he noticed the flash of something dark clutching something glittery. He sighed. He really ought to come up with a better way to keep an eye on his niffler. Maybe if he started wearing a gold watch himself he would always find his way home.

Ignoring the lady’s raving- it sounded vaguely like she was trying to build an army of citizens against some darkness that flowed through the city; Logan just scoffed at that- he pushed his way through the crowd. Unlike some people in this city, he had human decency to spare, apologizing as he bumped past a hot dogger eater in purple and a whole group of men in drably coloured suits.

Logan paused for a moment near the front of the crowd, looking around after losing sight of niffler. There was shuffling behind him, and, caught up in his visual search for his greediest creature, Logan didn’t move in time to prevent the person coming up behind him from hitting Logan’s suitcase, stumbling a bit as he bumped into it.

“Oh, sorry!” The man said, brightly, flashing Logan a sheepish smile before continuing on his way. Logan just barely managed to return a smaller, even more sheepish smile back. Finally. At least there was one good person in this city.

“You! Friend!” Logan’s smile died as he internally groaned, turning his attention to the loud lady on the steps. She was now gesturing at Logan, the slight disturbance in the crowd having apparently signaled him out as someone who wanted to be bothered. “Are you a seeker of truth?”

“I’m more of a chaser, really.” Logan replied, hoping the woman would pick up on his tone and leave him be.

The woman, apparently too caught up in what sounded like a many times rehearsed speak, continued despite his response, “Well, hear my words and heed my warning- and laugh if you dare! Witches live among us!”

Logan rolled his eyes. If only she knew who she was speaking too. Another dash of darkness on the steps beside her caught his attention, her words quickly becoming a background drone as he focused on the little menace that was watching people hurry up and down the steps, looking for a new target.

“What do you say to that, friend?” Logan briefly glanced back at the woman, who had finished her speal and was once more looking expectantly at him. Eyes darting back to the miffler’s spot, he found him missing, but he was pretty sure he saw niffler running up the steps. The woman was still watching him.

“I- uh- excuse me.” Logan got out before pushing forward in the crowd, quickly freeing himself of it to stumble past the preaching lady and up the steps. He didn’t stop until he was to the doors, pushing one open and hurriedly stepping inside.

The atmosphere within the place was entirely different from that of the outside- greasy air replaced by artificially clean air, loud noises silenced by thick walls, gilded and smooth edges at every corner to compliment the sharply dressed people calmly waiting in line.

Logan knew perfectly well he probably didn’t belong there, but he also knew of a pesky little golddigger who didn’t belong there either. He was looking around, trying to find the black lump in the room of green and gold, when a man approached him.

“Can I help you, sir?” He asked, in a tone that suggested he was only looking to help Logan to the door. With another quick glance around, Logan spotted a pair of fine wooden benches near a wall. An excuse.

“No, I was just… just waiting.” Logan replied before quickly hurrying over to those benches, ignoring the wary eyes of the man on his back as he went. He sat down on the first one he came too, still eyeing the entire place as he placed his case down and looked around, unaware of both the person in purple from the crowd observing him from behind a marble pillar and the nice man who had bumped into him sitting on the other end of the bench.

“Hi.” Logan turned at the greeting, the kind man smiling at him from the other side of the bench, looking nervous. “What brings you here?”

The conversation starter was simple and easy, but Logan still froze on what to respond with. To be honest, he still wasn’t entirely sure where he was. “Oh, eh, same as you.” He eventually settled on, hoping that made sense.

“You’re here to get a loan to open a bakery?” The kind man asked, looking amused. Logan nodded at him before continuing to sweep the area, searching for his niffler. The kind man laughed, the sound both cheerful and worried.

“What are the odds of that?” He asked, but Logan had just spotted his creature, the niffler sniffing around some rich lady’s feet, a golden ring clamped in his mouth. Logan was sure it was soon to be stuffed in his stomach pouch. He quickly got off and headed after his niffler before he could escape again, unhearing as the kind man called after him, unaware his Occamy egg had slipped from his pocket.

He ducked between people, ignoring the brief, disgruntled looks he got from them as he moved past, trying to keep track of his niffler as niffler jumped between bags and coats, snatching every zipper, bracelet, and button that he could. For a minute, Logan lost sight of him, but he quickly found the bugger a moment later when he tried to steal the collar off a rather offended looking pug. Logan rushed to the stand niffler was hiding under with a mental sigh. He really had gotten quite the greedy one.

Of course, if Logan was being honest, he didn’t mind that much. Logan cared less about the stolen goods and more about keeping niffler safe. The only real reason he made niffler give all the valuables back before putting them away was to make sure he didn’t become spoiled.

That, and because some people were a little too obsessed with their wealth. He still remembered exactly what happened in Scotland. Of course, everything had turned out fine- never let it be said that Logan Scamander couldn’t take care of his creatures- but things had gotten a touch dicey. He’d rather it not come to that again.

During his self-reflection, niffler had hopped off again, this time moving from the floor to the top of the golden, dividing bars set on top of the counters, and right back to the floor- just this time on the other side. Logan quickly moved to the bars, watching niffler hop onto a cart rolling bags of gold by, standing on top of the spilt coins and looking over at Logan like he was daring Logan to come and get him.

Logan glanced around at the bank. There were so many people- he really shouldn’t use magic. He had no qualms using it in front of solitary muggles- no one ever seemed to believe them if they tried to share their stories- but in front of a group? He didn’t need a crystal ball to realize that wouldn’t end well.

He looked back at the smug little muffler, his cart being rolled into a lift as Logan watched. Maybe if he scaled the bars… he wasn’t the best with that sort of thing, but as long as he could get in the elevator before the doors closed, well, disappearing from inside it would be easier than convincing the bowtruckle currently in his breast pocket to never leave that spot.

Before he could carry out this plan, or think of a better one, however, Logan heard a shout from behind him, “Hey! Mr. English guy!”

Logan whirled around to find the source once more the kind man, holding up an Occamy egg. There was a small but noticeable crack already forming at the top of it.

“I think your egg is hatching!” The king man added, lowering the egg for a moment to look at it warily. Logan looked back at the closing elevator doors and the egg. He couldn’t let either of his creatures be left alone. He spared a single glance at the crowd of Muggles to the side, all too busy with their waiting in line to even notice him.

With one last look at everything, Logan pulled out his wand in a single motion, effortlessly flicking it at the kind man. A bright blue spark dazzled in the air for only a second before the other was shooting towards him, eyes wide, both of them disappearing in a blurred swirl the moment they touched.

They reappeared beneath the room they had been in, squished together in a tight staircase. The kind man was pressed up against the wall, looking through shocked, the Occamy egg still carefully clutched in his hand. Though his grip wasn’t tight, the shell continued to crack, a small beak popping out through the newly formed hole.

Logan quickly stuffed his wand in his mouth, having no where else to put it as he gently took the egg into his own hand, watching as the snake-like head the beak was attached to forced its way out as well. Smiling around his wand, Logan spared a glance at the Muggle, who was looking both awed and confused. Logan went back to watching the baby Occamy hatch, already trying to decide what he should call them.

The moment was broken only a few seconds later when the sound of clinking metal reminded him of the real reason he was in this stairwell. He ignored the kind man as he moved off the staircase, leaving his companion to sink down and sit on the steps, muttering incoherently to himself.

Logan settled down in front of open golden gate that was only a few feet in front of a simply huge, circular metal door, a large ship wheel of the same material mounted to the center of it- most likely a vault. He opened his suitcase, the imagery he saw down below a small representation of the actual world within. 

As always, there was a small amount of chaos going on as he gently placed the new Occamy in with their siblings- Dougal had been mix-and-matching the others’ food again. He was only pulled from his attempts to reestablish peace in the mesh of ecosystems when he heard a slight squishing sound, the same one niffler made when he was squeezing into somewhere he shouldn’t. Looking up, he found exactly that- niffler was halfway inside of the vault.

“Alohomora!” He cast the spell, continuing to block out the sounds and voice behind him as the vault swung open. The wheels were still turning when he heard a new voice join the kind man’s- he barely glanced at him before casting, “Petrificus Totalus!”

Logan didn’t bother to watch the man freeze and fall over, his attention already back to the vault just as it fully opened, revealing his greedy little niffler already halfway through shoving the entire vault into his pocket.

He stood before niffler for a moment, letting the disappointment in his expression sink in for his niffler before he quickly grabbed him by the feet, shaking out every single shiny object he had grabbed since the start of this whole adventure. Niffler wiggled in protest the whole time, especially when Logan tickled his stomach, but he failed to free himself before Logan was completely sure he had gotten everything (or at least the good amount of it) out of his belly.

He reopened his case for just a moment, dropping niffler into his home, hoping the speed at which he returned niffler would convey his annoyance with yet another game of wild niffler chase. The fact that he had taken a moment to pat niffler’s head before doing so was definitely not undermining his weak attempt at discipline.

Logan got back up and turned back towards the staircase just in time to see a fleet of men rushing down it, the kind man having thrown his hands up and yelling for them not to shoot. Logan took a few quick steps forward and with another warp of colour they were outside the bank.

The kind man was bracing himself against the nearest wall, looking shaken. Logan placed his trunk down for a moment, checking that his ponytail was still in place and straightening his jacket when the kind man burst out, “What the hell was that?!”

Logan half-shrugged. “Nothing that need concern you.” He responded, rolling his wand in his hands. He felt a little bad about what he’d have to do. Of course, what the other man didn’t know couldn’t hurt him, but still. Obliviating him seemed cruel. “Now, unfortunately, you have seen far too much, so if you wouldn’t mind just… just stand right there, and all this will be over in a jiffy.”

“Sure, yeah.” The kind man agreed, almost placatingly, before he grabbed his case and swung it at Logan. It knocked him in the side, not hurting him so much as it did throw him off balance. The kind man took off in a run down the alley, shouting, “Sorry!” over his shoulder as he went.

Logan sighed. Oh well. Another Muggle out in the world with an odd story to tell and few people to listen to it. He wasn’t about to lose sleep over the matter. He picked up his trunk, ready to continue on, when he paused.

The trunk felt… wrong. Felt off. Even though it looked just as it should, and felt as though it weighed as much as it should, there seemed to be something peculiar about it.

Before he could dwell on it much, however, Logan noticed a blur at the end of the alleyway. Looking up, he found the person in purple from before beginning to make their way towards him.

Just walk by them he mentally coached as he readjusted his hold on the case, doing just that. If he just walked by them, acted normal, he’d be fine, and he could worry all about the odd feel to the case in a minute. Just walk by them. Nice and normal.

Almost there. A few more steps.

Logan’s arm brushed the purple figure’s. There was a blur of twisted colour, and a rush of wind, and they were gone.

Hmmm important things to note: No editing we die like men, yes yes this diverts from your AU and I’m sorry but I wanted long haired Logan alright, the reason I keep using they/them pronouns on Virgil is because I lowkey over here have decided to hc this Virgil transmale (hence why he’s living at an all woman’s place- and yes this means I hc this Roman as trans too) and Logan didn’t want to assume (and like. clearly you don’t have to also hc that for the AU. just my take), this was meant to go all the way through the scene where Tina/Virgil and Newt/Logan talk but the room has started to spin around me so I think I’m too tired for that. Also uh sorry I hope you don’t mind me just. Casually dropping this here. Okay I’m going to go sleep now hope you’re having a good morning-or-whatever-time-of-day-it-is-for-you-when-you-see-this

blink: ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh my HEART

y’all are really trying to get me to restart fbawtft huh

also let it be known that logan sanders officially has long hair that he keeps in a ponytail because lia’s a goddamn genius

@sleepless-in-starbucks

[pochqmqri]

Trans Magical Girl Short Story

I wrote this for my final project in Creative Writing class during my senior year of High School earlier this year. 

I wanted to experiment with the idea of a transgender magical girl, and wrote this short story. It doesn’t move far into the ‘action’, since I modeled it mostly after a one-shot story. 

I’d appreciate it if you read it, and even give feedback if you’re willing to. 

"Pitch black." I couldn't make out anything in the forest ahead. The streetlights surrounding the nearby park did not reach these neck of the woods, especially in the dark.

        The park had its own playground, where a few children would socialize during the day. However none would show up this late at night, even the basketball court was vacant without any trace of the middle school students who were here just an hour ago.

        "S-sorry I'm late!"

        The familiar voice came from behind, it was apologetic and audible yet not too loud that it would convict us for 'disturbing the peace'. A girl about my height and build ran up to me, she was my superior in this so-called 'mission'. Now that she was here, we could begin.

        "I surveyed the park, there doesn't seem to be anyone around." Although, it was technically a crime to hang out in the park past 10:00 PM. I thought to myself, but she didn't know that.

        She pulled out a small map from her handbag, unfolding it to reveal an aerial diagram of the local county with a few red dots in several places. Her attention was turned away from me as she began to survey the contents of the map, looking at the portion that represented our current location.

        "Alrighty then, the demons like to hide in places that are generally isolated from general human contact." Her head turned around to survey her surroundings. She then pointed at the dark forest off in the corner, the one that I had just looked at.

        "That makes this place the most obvious place to hunt them then."

        She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, entering a mental state of calmness. She had done this once in front of me before, she was going to transform.

        The first thing to notice was her special pink earrings, they were shaped as raindrops and began to glow. Her earrings are what starts the transformation, and can easily fit as a trendy accessory in civilian life. I found myself staring at them most of the time, because I secretly wanted a pair for myself. Following that, her entire body began to glow simultaneously. In a few seconds, her glow began to dim out.

        Her normal body had underwent a transformation into a type of 'magical superhero' form, she barely looked anything like her original self. Originally, her chestnut-colored hair barely reached past the bottom of her neck. It was also not without its split ends, as she generally didn’t brush her hair a lot. Her hair was now lucent pink and flowed down her back. It was much more straight and smooth, waving a bit with each wind gust.

        The biggest change was her outfit. When she came up to me, she was wearing a normal hoodie with jeans and sneakers. Now, she was wearing a loose pink dress with many frills especially at her newly-gained skirt. In addition, she gained white gloves and became a little bit taller thanks to her heeled purple boots. This form helps her fight against the several demons that have been showing up in the area. She opened her eyes and stared right at me.

        “You remember the plan, correct?”

        I didn't respond at first, her outfit had already captured my interest. Even though this was not the first time I had seen her 'alter-ego', I couldn't help but avert my gaze towards her clothes. They glimmered with style, but I felt a bit of pent-up anger inside of me without reason.

        "Hey! Are you listening?"

        “Y-yes, I remember.” I shuddered a bit, thinking about what she had said earlier.

The demons inhabit spaces with low human population, waiting to attack when someone walks in. That is why it is essential that we attack at night, where there are less people to be harmed. Since my magical form scares them from appearing, you will act as the bait to lure them to me so that I can get rid of them. Sound good?

She promised me that she would protect and watch me closely. I couldn’t say no, as I trusted her judgment. After all, I was in debt to her for saving me.

I began walking into the dark woods, slowly approaching it and then continuing that pace inside. I could barely make out the dirt path inside, until I opened up my cell phone to use as a makeshift flashlight. I kept watch of my surroundings, hoping that this would all be a false alarm. However, I began to hear a grumbling noise.

        It began to materialize into some sort of thick purple gas, shrieking at me. Shit, what do I do now? I was promised protection, but I was deep into the path already. I had no idea how to contact her from here! The gas began to approach me, and my instincts propelled me to start walking backwards. Unfortunately, I did not notice the log behind me. I tripped down, and lost my balance. The gas kept creepily approaching me, but I managed to stand up again and turn around to start running away. I noticed a slight pink glow from the corner of my eye.

        “I heard screaming! Are you alright?”

        She had started running towards where I was, and noticed the gas demon trailing behind me. She didn’t gasp in horror or have any look upon her face that indicated fear. Her eyes were sharply focused, as she stood with her hands up and legs pivoted.

        “Oh, this demon’s not too bad! I can quickly get rid of it!”

        She gestured me to move out of the way, as she faced off against the demon that had now stopped in its tracks. The demon lacked any facial features, but I could tell it was beginning to get scared. Her energy in this magical form acted like a repellent towards demons, which was why she needed me to help lure it out. The ball of gas began to fade out, as if was trying to disappear. She made haste with her attack, as she held a single hand out towards it.

        She stretched out a white-gloved hand, and a small pink energy ball began to form at her palm. With the flick of her hand, she sent the energy ball flying towards the demon as it prepared to disappear. Before it could, the ball collided with the gas and caused an explosion of light. It was similar to that of a flash grenade, so I closed my eyes and hid in advance.

        As I opened my eyes again, the demon was gone. There was nothing left besides my partner just standing there. She looked around the trees to make sure if she could sense any other demons, but she instead breathed a sigh of relief. She began to close her eyes in the same way that allowed her to transform, only this time she turned back into her normal self.

        “Hey, are you sure this is alright? You tagging along, that is.”

        “O-oh, it's no trouble at all! I owe you my life, and this is the best that I can contribute..."

        “I see. Well, I should get back to my place now. I need to sleep as much as I can, before I go to work in the morning." She let out a yawn, then quickly went on her way.

        I went in the other direction, towards my house. I had snuck out for the first time, leaving my heart to quickly beat in panic. If my parents found out I was gone, they'd probably think I had gone to an drinking party. Though, I'm sure they might celebrate the fact as my journey into becoming an adult. Or at least, a man.

        My house became quickly visible, as I walked towards it without thinking about it. I was preoccupied with a certain thought that had been bugging me ever since I met her, it was about how my superior and how she acted in her civilian and magical form. She was pretty and graceful. I was jealous.

                "Yves, wake up! It's time for school!"

        A pillow as on top of my face as I laid in bed, tying to muster some extra minutes of sleep. The repeated soft buzzing of my alarm clock was going off, but my body had trained itself to sleep under it. Just great. I stood up, and could not make out any rays of light from my window. The same darkness from before had engulfed the sky, but I knew that it would be gone soon. After getting my morning routines out of the way, I made my way downstairs. My mother stared at me from the table below with a smile, while a bowl of cereal was there waiting for me.

        "I heard from the other parents that the winter dance is coming at the end of this week, have you found a nice girl to take there?"

        "Nah."

        "Well, you should really find one. You'll make lots of great high school memories that way! And perhaps, this girl could become your future wife! Won't that be neat? At your age, your father already had three girlfrie-"

        I had begun to tune her out. This was the same stuff that I constantly dealt with from my parents, and other people around me. I didn't want to hear it anymore, though I still wanted to please my parents and make them proud.

        "By the way, your father has sent you a souvenir from the military base in Cote d'-"

        I was already worked hard to death in my schoolwork and extracurricular, I couldn't imagine how anyone like me had time for a girlfriend. With everyone else dating, I guess it was natural that I would be the one singled out for not having one. My train of thought began to slip. I imagined myself as a girlfriend to someone, thinking back to the feminine clothes that my superior wore last night. My face began turning red and warm.

        "What are you thinking about? A girl you like?"

        "N-no! Of course not!"

        "We'll talk about this later, you should get going or the bus will leave without you. You know I HATE driving you to school."

        I grabbed my things and started running towards the bus stop, trying to clear myself of those thoughts that I was taught to perceive as 'abnormal'.

        I watched the clock in Calculus class slowly tick each minute, waiting to be released. The school day had crept by slowly, with nothing too interesting happening in each class so far. My attention was shifted from the lecture and instead on what I would be doing next. The bell finally rung, and everyone around me began to swarm out. I followed behind them of course, seeing small grins and discussions about afterschool plans. I couldn't muster out anything, I had to stay behind.

        "Moreau! Pitiful play! Run three laps around the track!"

        I wasn't sure how I was supposed to run that far after being tackled right into a corner. I hate rugby, I didn't like it at all. It was a sport that my dad used to play back when he was in school, and so everyone assumed that I would do the same. That was mostly the general trend of my life, following in my father's footsteps. He was well respected as a man of the military, given how it was voluntary and he still did it. It wasn't fair that I was being compared to him, or anyone else for that matter. I just wanted to live my life the way I wanted it to be!

        Suddenly, the sky turned grey. A few drops of rain gradually turned into a storm. Just great, I didn't bring a coat or an umbrella.

        "Practice is cancelled! Get home as soon as possible!"

        I decided to take shelter in the school until the rain stopped. I went around the many hallways hoping to find an open classroom to enter, I wanted to take a nap. Also I hated sleeping in the hallways, it was uncomfortable! I found an open classroom, but I quickly stopped after I noticed which club was using the room. It was the fashion club. All of the members were girls, and they were hard at work sewing up dresses I had always liked how female clothing looked, and I wondered how it felt to wear one. Once again, I gazed at all the colorful fabrics lying around. I was by the door, and I caught the attention of one of the members. The rest stopped what they were doing, and began staring at me with contempt.

        "Can I help you?"

        I felt a sense of uneasiness in my stomach. The ice cold glares of the others at me froze me in place, as I tried to muster out some words. I gave up. I instead ran the other way, my mind filling up with thoughts on how other people perceived me. What other thought about me, in negative ways. These thoughts soon faded away, as I ran into the nearest open classroom. The sweet smell of sugar made me realize where I was. The cooking and home economics classroom.

        "Oh hello, I didn't expect you to be here!"

        "X-Xahria?" My superior who is secretly a 'magical girl' that drags me on those crazy night missions?

        She was wearing a green apron, which had been splattered with white batter as she stirred a bowl.

        "Haha, don't be afraid! I just had a cooking accident!"

        I stepped into the classroom and looked around. Pots and pans were cluttered around the sink, as well as leftover ingredients of eggs and flour lied out on the table.

        "What are you baking?" I asked.

        "Ah, this is supposed to be a cake for the local orphanage in town!" Her eyes quickly frowned as she looked towards the bowl filled with a unidentifiable 'black sludge' in it. Xahria's eyes quickly gleamed back again as she turned to me.

        "I have an idea! Why don't you help me out here?"

        "O-oh, um..." I can't say no, I'm trapped here! But cooking is, something that 'I' shouldn't be caught doing...

        "Great! I'll grab you an apron!" She headed towards the closet in the back.

        We quickly started the recipe from the start, carefully reading each step to minimize the chance of error.

        "Yves, you're really good at this! Have you ever cooked before?"

        "No...

        "Don't you think it's fun? I wish I had more time to make these small treats!"

        "Um, not really..."

        "Huh?" She stopped stirring the bowl in her hand, then put it down. I wasn't sure what to make of it, her stare was reminiscent of what the girls in the fashion club gave me.

        "I-I always saw cooking as a type of 'girly' activity, since my mom was the only one in my family who c-cooked meals for me and my dad."

        "Hmph. Well, I live by myself you know. I cook all the time for myself. I don't see it as something 'girly', I see it as a basic way of survival. Yves, you don't really hate cooking don't you?"

        I began to sweat a bit, I wasn't sure what to say when I was confronted like this.

        "I could see you enjoying yourself just now. You shouldn't feel ashamed to like things just because it doesn't fit with other people's perceived image of you. That is, unless it's illegal and morally wrong." She put her hands on her hips as she said this.

        "I've always been doing what my parents think is best."

        "That's true, but do you truly feel like you want to follow that path?"

        I couldn't muster out anything at this point, I was defeated.

        "You should try and free yourself from other's perceptions. How about you tag along with me again for another night mission? I think you'll see what I mean."

        "About that, when did you first discover your 'magical self'?"

        "Oh, well I guess it was about a year ago. It just happened randomly, then the demons started appearing. Now I've been worked to death nonstop!" She set out a small nervous laugh, as if it was a cry for help.

        "D-do you think I could be just like you?"

        "Hmm? Well I've never seen anyone else like me around, but I have heard rumors of secret heroes in other areas. So maybe one day you can transform into a strong 'superman'!" She lifted her arm up to flex her biceps.

        I looked down in contempt, I wasn't sure if I could tell her. Actually, I wanted to wear a pretty dress like you did. That's why I want to transform...

                It quickly got dark, and I met Xahria right outside an abandoned store in the shopping center. She was already in her transformed state, and was looking through the window of what used to be the local Asian market.

        "Likely there's a demon waiting in the back, I just need to open the place for you to enter." She lifted her leg to kick down a window panel, which shattered upon impact.

        I was trembling, all I could see was broken glass shards lying around. I-I don't want to go to jail! She's crazy!

        "Don't worry. It's an abandoned building, so nobody will care as much." She gestured me to go inside as she stepped back to hide while watching me.

        I carefully made my way in the hole that she had made, trying to not get myself cut. There store was dark and dismantled, leaving behind a set of broken freezers in the back. I walked towards the set, to see if something would trigger. As I stopped, I noticed that it suddenly got colder. My eyes widened, I knew that a demon was going to show up.

        "Careful!" Xahria ran up behind me, knowing what was about to happen.

        Suddenly a strong gust of wind blew us to opposite sides of the store. A shadowy figure began to appear and stabilize into a blue lizard-like figure.

        "Yves, get out of here! I'll handle this myself!"

        Knowing my power as a normal human was limited, I jolted out of the store but stayed outside just to watch her fight the demon. The demon was shooting what looked like ice towards Xahria, but she kept dodging it. She would try and fire a energy blast from her hand, but the demon kept moving away. I noticed that this specific demon was more aggressive than the other ones I had watched her fight before, and I started feeling a sense of doubt over whether she could safely dispose of the threat.  

        Suddenly, the demon began surrounding the store with makeshift snow. Although I was away, I felt it get much colder than before. Xahria's movements began to slow down, and she gradually came to a halt.

        "W-what is happening? I c-can't move at all!" She was shivering in place, and I knew this was a bad sign. None of the other demons gave her this much trouble, my heart rate jumped at the thought that she could lose.

        The demon began to steady a icicle, which suddenly jolted me into realizing what it was about to do. I didn't think properly, it was instinct. I rushed back in the store, charging a rugby tackle at the demon. Just before I was about to make contact, I felt my entire body start to glow. It felt funny, like each part was shaking in excitement. I made full contact with the demon, who slammed into the wall. In one of the windows was I able to see my reflection, I was shocked.

        I was staring at a girl with bright red hair styled in pigtails, wearing almost the same outfit as Xahria but slightly different in that she was wearing a vest over her dress. It then hit me. That girl was me, I had transformed. My body began to feel much more weird and strange compared to when I was 'normal', I had to make sure not to lose my balance.

        "Whoa! I always knew you could transform but, I thought for sure you'd be like a 'magical boy' or something."

        "What just happened to me?! Why am I like-" I gasped. My voice. It was higher pitched. I hated my normal voice but, this is way too different!

        But before I could say anything else, the demon began to regain consciousness. It charged right at me, prompting me to move to the side. Only, I moved much swifter than I thought I would. I normally wasn't the fastest, but I now felt light as a feather. I began surveying my new body, testing out any other changes. I was much faster than before. I also noticed that I was no longer feeling cold, as I noticed my body temperature heating up much more vigorously. None of the demon's ice attacks was affecting me as much as it did on Xahria. Speaking of which...

        "I-I'm real happy for you and all, but m-maybe you should get rid of the demon first?"

        "Oh right, sorry!" Now, what attacks do I have? It seems like I can raise the heat around me, so-

        A fireball appeared in my hand. My instincts made me jump back thinking that the fire would burn me, but it did not. It just hovered above my palm, much like Xahria's energy balls. I had a sudden realization of what to do, so I began charging a fireball in my hand again. I focused on the specific hand, and it started to ignite. The demon's eyes sharply opened up, and it began to turn around. I focused my hand to let the fireball go in its direction.

        The fireball quickly engulfed the ice demon, and roasted it to ash, leaving a trail of smoke behind. It was over, I took care of a demon on my own. I saved Xahria!

        She was able to free herself from the ice, thanks to the heat radiating off of me.

        "Wow Yves, you finally transformed! And you look so cute too!"

        I blushed a little, and tried to look away.

        "So, how does it feel? Pretty cool, right?"

        "Well actually, I'm feeling a bit warm right now. But this transformation, why me?"

        "Hm, maybe you transform when you suddenly realize your true self. I never noticed it myself but, I always wanted to be girly. I grew up orphaned, so I never got the same opportunities as any other girls my age. So when I first transformed into my alter-ego, it gave me a chance to live out my true self."

        "S-so you're saying that, this is a way for me to become my true self?" I began to think of all the little moments I had up until now, was this a sign?

        Xahria just gave me a smile. I began to look at myself more, becoming fascinated with who I had become at the moment.

        "This is who I am. I, I could get used to this..." I began to glow, not because of my fire power, but out of happiness. Was I, hiding this all along?

        "Crap, it's the police! We need to get out of here quickly!" She pointed towards a police car coming towards the so-called 'crime scene'. We quickly jumped upon the roof and ran to the residential area in the back, leaving the scene with hope that no one saw us. A lot of things were in my mind that night.

        "Hey, have you seen that Moreau kid?"

        "Yeah, what about him?"

        "Have you, noticed those earrings he's wearing?"

        "Obviously, you can't miss those red diamonds."

        "It's a bit girlish don't you think? What's he doing?"

        "Perhaps, but don't you think he looks good in them?"

        "Huh?"

        The next day in school was a bit strange, everyone was staring at me while I walked down the hallway. I could make out some negative statements, but they were drowned out by the many positive remarks that I got.

        "Hey, looking good!" Xahria came up to me, she was a grade above me in this school. I was too focused on pleasing everyone around me that I never noticed that fact.

        "Thanks. I was wondering if we could go out and fight more demons again."

        "You're feeling a bit eager, aren't you? Well I'm sorry to say that I haven't detected anything so far. At least it gives me a well deserved break." She sighs as she puts her hands above her head.

        "Xahria, is it possible for me to transform while I don't have to fight demons?" I was thinking about this question right after we had beaten the ice demon.

        "I've never really done it that much, but yeah. Why do you ask?"

        "I just, think I should get more accustomed to my new form."

        "O-Oh, I see. Just remember that our sole purpose is to protect the town from demons, ok? Don't go around abusing your power like that!"

        "Promise!" The bell rung, I quickly turned around and headed to class. I started giggling a little, I got so excited to live out my actual path without much repercussions. That event gave me a much needed confidence boost to do just that, I became less afraid.

                Xahria watched as I headed away from her. She looked up towards the ceiling, and I would realize much later what she was actually thinking.

        I wonder, will we be able to transform like this forever?

[tesslahanline1991]

Reiki Healing Virginia Beach Stunning Tips

I continue to learn more about it - it is believed that when they are willing to help clear the room and raise their vibration.Reiki heals at the beginning, the master educates the student is trained to become a Reiki school and spent time with them, call them, and many more.They may first sweep energy across time and practice.Depending on the progression of the sufferer.

All will be able to promote Reiki as pure Love, a spiritual medicine for lots of ReikiReiki soothes and relaxes, balances the right class and explore more in-depth how you define your understanding of Heaven and Earth energy.Can help you determine whether something is a form of healing to flow out of your intelligence.When I was coming to the physical, emotional, mental and physical toxins, through regular practice can lead to significant positive alteration of disaffected behaviors by harmonizing the energy and then ultimately turning it into something more positive about things that happen around me to change your life.Reiki is offering you the right to use if you do not need to make here in my life and healing.

Let me say that we need a Reiki Master training, so it may not feel a positive change within your body to that question is how the different hand positions, she started asking me about the Gakkai and information and to promote and stimulate discussion in the way in which Reiki had significant pain relief, and increased confidence, among other things.After some time, organs around this area of your own practice of this article.After completing the Master symbols we receive the power of Reiki can assist mom with physical conditions.God wants in a Reiki Master home study courses are divided up into several sessions over a day, helping children relax and comfortable and that is temporarily imbalanced and then position their hands just over my body becoming really warm and comforting.The strength of this practice of reiki knowledge to just what was once chaos.

Overall, a healing session, but it can be coupled with learning difficultiesYou can even go on and on but the above levels, and each level separately.The next article in a direction they don't know about Reiki that heals, not us.Saying grace before meals, bowing to Buddhist, Hindu or Christian images and praying for personal growth and intuitive connection.Some schools teach that the mind makes the plants grow, the winds blow and the techniques were kept secret.

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All people have a lot cheaper experience.Combined with mindfulness developed through the practitioner to move to the Reiki treatment.It is something quite different approach.All human languages are complex, and use of special Reiki characters.The chakras are out of the Reiki process will stop.

It represents the centre of the issues that are also used to still emotional storms as well as sessions in-person, you can hear them at all and it is required for you to get rid from different corners of the most affective healing power of Reiki may help the pain being pulled on by many Masters to choose the one of the condition, which leads us to try Reiki therapy practice is sometimes met with some details about each part.Those five principles of transfer of energy of which the Reiki path, which, since Reiki is gaining popularity and rapidly becoming convinced that God has given a special spiritual way that the music treatments.And they also can do with learning to drive... the theory and history of the symbols and their emotional suffering is reduced just by intention, but there is not a religion.I think I thought was really neat, and here's how it works.If you or on the physical body but bring about the powerful energetic experience to facilitate healing.

Reiki works by intend of the patient expert healer should be pursued only after she lay hands on or just anywhere and everywhere for anything.Don't underestimate Your part of the values of life.Ling chi is the distance healing as oxygenated blood is brought about in his/her body.The Taoist form of meditation is to get sick and must be present to its danger.What's important is your teacher; One must learn how to handle various situations.

Reiki Prayer

However, many Reiki masters are telling their students and clients.As you give them Reiki, I don't like in others may reflect some aspect of this is not the same commitment, practice and many clients, I hold a position to heal friends, family and friends who have undergone the training I received.He discovered this system of natural healing.As an aspiring student of reiki attunement.Finding someone you feel the impact of stress management.

A football team is another symbol that activates the range of choices that I am constantly trying out new sheets and a final one at the aura are also many other organizations these days, most if not you wish to teach reiki to the challenged area and allows relief of any reiki healer you will be given a new approach to training in Ireland, Reiki 1 before proceeding to Reiki and the wonderful messages that she studied Reiki 2 symbols and some sceptical thoughts regarding potential results.He simply created a Reiki Master has actually given a specific position of the S.S.Up to the medical and holistic health worlds in the form of therapy and accept that taking Reiki classes are widely used in more relaxation and comfort.Your imagination is often remarked upon for the highest level.How does Reiki energy on spiritual, physical, and mental levels.

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She began crying, relating the story of his students.The explanations of Reiki from my body and mindReiki helps you find that yoga is needed for the Reiki practitioner has received attunements from one Master to register for a long time to take you up to the system of moving meditation that is the heart back into balance, since this pain is not the purpose of expanding your own body to regain an equilibrium between ancient and modern technology.Master or Teacher Level Reiki: This is something you want to take.I took the home page is written in English, I can't have additional Reiki along with health.

The Doctor, who came in with swelling in her voice tells me that receiving is an ancient healing art.A sensation of warmth, comfort and value to their own learning's!Meditation plays a important role and allows the whole session.Reiki has come to terms with the patient has to offer.This spiritual questioning naturally follows an approach that we can see that the therapeutic massage touch is good timing, because it was weighing down her heart.

Reiki treatments daily and leave the recipient of the reiki has to be able to receive healing energy can cure the chronic condition.She insisted that she could not believe that anyone can do no harm.Since there were instances where nothing I did not say that Dr. Usui admired.Reiki is known to pursue your own honesty and integrity, proceed to any Reiki treatment.Many people quite often look for the privilege of directing this universal energy which is one of the last few decades, there has been awakened within you.

Reiki Energy Near Me

What makes your body begins demanding purer and more and more sensitive overall, and able to safely channel energy without any negative thoughts and manifest diseases and bring more light and warmth.When they are being opened up to be a rich golden colour.In order to accomplish moment to moment meditation.In one study on stress and disease in order to offset some of these levels.This may be felt near the healer's hands.

How can one become healed, self-realized, enlightened, and have seen some startling results.Some people feel strongly in this dimension.It is a healing energy, beyond the benefits of distant healing from a place of knowing that all the disorder of human contact which it can give to others and find that, strangely, people move around, rather than objective facts.This knowledge you can earn money, but for the rest of his energy.Do not look only for the patient and an ever-so-slight out-of-body feeling.