#i think spirits blue contrasts well with steels green

[shadowlinktheshadow]

blah blah blah new au or something

his name is steel

also ref + some notes

[its-kili]

You’re Brave (Part 1/2) - Levi x Reader

Synopsis: You’ve been losing sleep because you’ve been hearing noises in your bedroom at night and you think you’re being haunted. Levi makes plans to help put your mind at rest and later helps to investigate the source of the noises in your bedroom.

Warnings: No warnings for this part, just fluff.

Levi was not an affable man, but his presence never ceased to attract the attention of others. Perhaps it was the way his hair flopped over his face and almost covered his eyes that created a ubiquitous air of mystery, giving people the impression that he had some interesting stories from his past to tell. Or maybe it was the stoic expression he wore on his face – always making him look like he had a sense of responsibility and importance – that people would try to imitate when they wanted others to listen to what they had to say. Either way, he was a reputable figure in the Survey Corps, so much so that word of his reputation had made its way through the walls and people (especially women) would swoon when they saw him out in public. Levi was not fond of his popularity, however, and so he would wear his green cloak with its hood up to conceal his face whenever he left the barracks.

               He was leaning against the stone wall of a bakery as I scurried towards him, squeezing through the rushing bodies that populated the market in the middle of Trost. After a few polite ‘I’m sorry’s and ‘excuse me’s, I safely made it to the bakery without pushing into anyone or stepping on their feet. I imitated Levi’s nonchalant stance with one leg bent and my foot and back pressed against the wall as he greeted me.

               “Nice, I think you only almost wiped out one small child this time.” Under the thick layer of apathy in his tone there was a hint of humour that threatened to paint a modest smile on his face.

               “I was trying to be careful,” I chuckled lightly and stared ahead at the horde of people, “I hate crowds.”

               “Tell me about it. That’s why I’m stood over here away from everyone. Unbothered. Moisturised. Happy. In my lane. Foc-” My head instinctively turned to face Levi, my brows furrowed and a look of utter confusion plastered onto my face.

               “Levi, what the fuck are you saying?” I interrupted, trying to keep my voice hushed so the people around us wouldn’t be made aware of Levi’s presence.

               “I couldn’t tell you; it’s just something I heard Jean and Connie saying. Speaking of – any trouble yet?” Levi turned to me but all I could see was his mouth because his hood covered most of his face. I hummed a quiet ‘no’ and shook my head in response to his question, worried that if I spoke I would jinx the peace and problems would kick off.

He was referring to two of his squad members: Eren and the aforementioned Jean. They were prone to arguing with each other, sometimes even fighting, which is why Levi and I were here babysitting them today. It’s embarrassing for them, really, but the last time they were out in public, the pair ended up bickering with each other, so one thing led to another and their quarrel turned into a brawl. Now they aren’t allowed to leave the barracks together without supervision because Commander Erwin doesn’t want the Survey Corps to gain a bad reputation.

Today, Levi and I were on babysitting duty while our children (as we liked to call our squads when they misbehaved) were in town browsing the market. Both of us were captains in the Survey Corps and although only one of us was needed for this job, we were both sent because we had a good-cop/bad-cop relationship that the scouts respected. I was always the captain who could resolve issues by talking some sense into my squad and Levi solved problems by kicking some sense into his. Sometimes my tactics weren’t the most effective, though, so I needed Levi around for those times when only the threat of a brutal punishment would work.

To be honest, it was impossible to keep an eye on Eren and Jean in the busy crowds, but then again, it would be impossible for them to start a fight in such a congested space. Levi and I were just pleased to be out of the barracks today, no training or paperwork to tire us out. Unfortunately for me, however, I was already tired due to a lack of sleep last night, so my outing was semi-ruined before I even left the barracks. A yawn escaped my mouth as I tilted my head back, feeling the cool stone against my hair, and I closed my eyes as I let the sun warm my skin.

“Levi?” I started, dragging out the last syllable of his name.

“Hmm?” He imitated my tone.

“Do you believe in ghosts?” I asked, still facing the sky with my eyes closed as if it were a trivial attempt at small talk and not a question I had been pondering since the early hours of the morning.

“Tch. Don’t be ridiculous.” My eyes shot open and my neck jolted so I was facing Levi after he gave his response. He had mirrored my previous position, basking in the sunlight like a reptile with his eyes closed.

“Don’t be ridiculous as in, ‘of course I believe in ghosts’ or don’t be ridiculous as in, ‘it’s all just a load of horse shit’?” I pestered. Levi’s hood didn’t cover his face when he tilted his head up, so I traced the contours of his profile with my eyes while I knew he wouldn’t catch me staring. He had an angular jaw and chin with stern eyebrows and a sharp nose: all were features that reinforced his steely reputation. In contrast to the rest of his appearance, his lips looked soft, and although they never faltered from a rigid line on his face, I often wondered what he looked like when he smiled.

“The latter.” He confirmed as he raised an eyebrow and opened his eyes, looking at me from the side without moving his head. “Why do you ask?” I averted my gaze and a warmth overwhelmed my cheeks as I felt like I had just been caught doing something I shouldn’t.

“I. . . uh,” I smiled to myself as I stammered and gripped the back of my neck with my hand, “It probably sounds stupid, but I’m sure that my bedroom is haunted.” I gave a light-hearted chuckle, aware that Levi probably thought my declaration was nonsensical.

“That’s absurd. Why do you think that?” Levi questioned and I had to bite back a smile at the realisation that if most people had made such a statement then he would have stopped his response at ‘that’s absurd’. But I’m not most people, so he cared enough to ask me to elaborate, and that brought a pleasant wave of contentment to my fatigued brain. Or perhaps I was simply overthinking the situation, but that’s not a thought that I wanted to have.

“Last night I got woken up by noises coming from my wardrobe. It sounded like it was shaking, as if something were trying to push it over. I couldn’t get back to sleep after that.” I confessed and I saw Levi’s expression soften, his eyebrow no longer raised but instead almost furrowed in concern. He was a sensible man with firm beliefs, so I knew that he wouldn’t think there was validity to my accusation, but I am an irrational person who hears a noise in the dark and immediately attributes it to the supernatural and so I hadn’t taken the time to think about another explanation.

I hoped that after hearing my admission he could persuade me with logic that I was wrong, but instead he shrugged his shoulders and mumbled ‘spooky’ before tilting his head back up to the sky and closing his eyes again.

Levi was known to be honest, even when his words sometimes seemed harsh, because he thought it was in the best interest of the other person to hear the truth. So I tried to think of a reason why he wouldn’t tell me that my ghost theory was stupid, or why he wouldn’t just scoff and roll his eyes, because I knew he didn’t really think it was spooky and I’m sure he had already thought of a logical justification in his head. There was no time to be thinking of such explanations, though, because my eyes had already wandered back to the face of the man stood next to me.

Levi’s raven hair exacerbated the paleness of his skin and his cool undertones almost gave him a death-like pallor. But even though he seemingly lacked life in his skin, he made up for it in his steel blue eyes. They were vibrant and full of spirit as if all the ocean and sky and everything that lived in them had been encapsulated in his gaze. Well, that’s what I saw when I looked at him, anyway. Other people didn’t think his façade was so pleasant. He would often scowl – not at anyone in particular – as if he were perpetually irritated with the world. If anybody got on the wrong side of him, he would glare at them (and that is all if they were lucky) and in that moment his eyes are cold, steel daggers pressed firmly against warm skin, and his victim would obey his every command like they are a hostage to his unmerciful blades.

Fortunately, I never experienced that side of him first-hand; we got on well, better than we did with any of the other captains and commanders in the Survey Corps. Because of this, I got to see a side to Levi that nobody else was blessed enough to witness, and by that I mean nothing spectacular, just softened expressions and less harsh words from time to time. Admittedly, I was quite fond of Levi, perhaps too much, and definitely a lot more than he was of me. But I never told him of my feelings towards him, instead opting for the easier option of gawking at him at times like these when nobody would catch me.

 Thankfully, our outing in Trost was conflict-free and we returned to the barracks with our dignity intact. The rest of my day was spent forcing myself not to nap – despite almost failing a few times – because I wanted to ensure I got a good night’s sleep. So that night, after I entered my bedroom and got ready for bed, I was desperate for my slumber and decided to address the potential ghost problem. I stood in front of my wardrobe, which was against the wall directly opposite my bed, and I sighed as I put my hands on my hips.

               “Hi, uh. . . ghosts. Spirits? Dead people? No, sorry, I don’t want to brag that I’m alive and you’re, well. . . not. Although I suppose there’s nothing to brag about, really, is there? I mean, being alive sucks. Well, I guess you’d know that being uh, post-deceased and all that. Is the afterlife any better? No, you don’t have to answer that. I guess I’ll find out for myself one day.” My feet paced around my room as I rambled on. “Anyway, I just wanted to tell you that I’m really tired because I didn’t get much sleep last night, so I was wondering, with regards to the whole wardrobe thing, if you could just, kind of, tone the noise down a bit? Like, just stop it, perhaps? It’s just that I’ve got some pretty intense training tomorrow so I need to be well-rested, I’m sure you’re reasonable people – ghosts – and you’ll understand? Thank you for hearing me out. Goodnight.”

               After giving my speech to the wardrobe and I was certain that it would be effective in deterring potential supernatural activity, I climbed into bed and closed my eyes. My final thoughts before I wandered away into my dreams were images of Levi and the way the sunlight caressed his skin in Trost today. He looked peaceful and at ease when he closed his eyes, just as I was in my bed, and I realised how lucky I was for him to be the last thing to grace my thoughts as I drifted into my sleep.

 Much to my frustration, my slumber was abruptly disturbed after a few short hours when the noises from my wardrobe returned, this time a little more aggressive than last night. As I hid under my blanket, my eyes just peeking over the top, I thought that perhaps my request had offended any ghosts in the room and this was their response, so I whispered a shaky ‘I’m sorry’ and hoped it would stop. It didn’t, though, and the wardrobe continued to shake as I laid in my bed, frozen with fear. I watched the wall, which was barely illuminated by dim strings of moonlight breaking through the gaps in my curtains, hoping to see some kind of apparition to at least confirm my suspicions. It wasn’t until I watched a painting fall from the wall and heard its chilling bang on the floor that I regained control of my body and shot out of bed, heading straight towards the mess hall to grab a glass of water with the intent to calm myself down a bit.

               I burst through the doors, shaken and breathless, half-expecting a phantom to jump out and shout ‘boo!’ to scare me. Instead, there was a different ghostly figure in the room. Levi was sat alone in the mess hall, his pale skin shining through the dull candlelight, drinking a cup of tea. At this time?

               “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” His voice was firm but despite his rigid exterior, I could tell that he thought his comment was funny and he was proud of it. Under any other circumstance I would have laughed, but I was too startled to do anything other than stare at him with wide eyes.

               “Th-the wardrobe noises. . . it happened again. B-but this time it was worse an-and a painting fell off my wall.” I stuttered and Levi narrowed his eyes as he listened to my crisis, before getting up to pour me a glass of water.

               “I’m sure there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation for what happened.” He gently placed a hand on my shoulder and gave me the water. After I took a sip he looked me in the eye and said, “I saw an advert – out in Trost earlier – for a ghost tour of an old, abandoned building. I’m going to take you tomorrow night; it might help.” I was taken aback by his offer, surprised that he would pay attention to such things, let alone consider going along.

               “I don’t understand how that will help, Levi. If anything it will just make me more scared.” I protested, worried that a ghost tour would confirm my theory that ghosts are real and I would never be able to sleep again. But then I realised something spectacular: if I get scared in the haunted house tomorrow night, I will have an excuse to get close to Levi. I thought about the sensation of linking my arm with his and hiding my face in his shoulder, how warm his body would feel pressed against mine, the contours of his muscles-

               “Did you hear me?” Levi questioned, snapping me out of my thoughts. My response was a puzzled frown and a confused ‘hmm?’, indicating that he should repeat himself because I was miles away. “I said the whole thing will be so farcical that it will prove to you that ghosts don’t exist. And if my plan doesn’t work, then we can ask the tour guide about methods of exterminating ghosts, or whatever you’re supposed to do to deal with them.” He waved his hand in the air as if he were shooing the ghosts away.

               “Yeah, that sounds like a great idea actually.” I nodded my head, perhaps a little too enthusiastically, at the thought of clutching onto Levi’s toned, muscular body in fear. And if the ghost tour is not scary at all, well, I might just have to feign my terror and hold onto him anyway.

               “For tonight, though, I think we should swap rooms,” Levi suggested and I raised my eyebrows in surprise, “because you need to get some sleep and I’m not scared of your wardrobe ghost. Also, if I hear any noises I’m brave enough to investigate, no offense.” None taken, honestly, you’re right and I’m a pussy.

               “Um, okay. Are you sure?” I was astonished that he had offered me his room considering the fact that it was his private dwelling and he wasn’t the most open person when it came to sharing personal information.

               “Yes, I insist. Don’t worry, my bedroom isn’t haunted – the only sound that will disturb you is Erwin’s snoring from next door. I usually drown that noise out by listening to the sound of me screaming into my pillow. Good luck.” Levi’s tone was playful as he patted my shoulder and escorted me out of the mess hall and towards his bedroom.

 As I ate my breakfast in the mess hall the next morning, I was feeling refreshed and contented by Levi’s kind gesture last night. The scent of his bedsheets lingered in the air as if the fragrance were painted on my skin: fresh cotton and lemongrass – if Levi were a candle he would be aptly named ‘Cleaning Cupboard’. I rested my elbow on the table and pressed my head against my hand as I absent-mindedly stirred my coffee, daydreaming about the way my body accidentally brushed against Levi’s as he held his bedroom door open for me last night. Perhaps if I freak out more often he will offer his bedroom to me again and again. Oh, Levi Heichou, I heard the ghost again and I’m so terrified. You want me to sleep in your bedroom again? Okay, if you insist, but you don’t have to leave. You should stay, I’d feel terrible for kicking you out of your bed again. Okay, maybe I’m getting a little too ahead of myself.

               I stopped stirring my coffee when I awoke from my fantasy and realised that the clinking of the spoon against porcelain had seemingly started to irritate the people in my vicinity. The mess hall was livening up as people were waking up and getting ready for the day ahead, and I noticed a sleepy Eren and Mikasa approaching the table next to mine before sitting opposite each other. Next to enter was Levi and instead of grabbing some breakfast or even a cup of tea, he headed towards me with what appeared to be the faintest smirk pulling at his lips. I had never seen such an expression on his face before and so I convinced myself that my lack of sleep must have caused me to hallucinate. But after blinking a few times and seeing his face up close, I realised that my eyes did not deceive me.

               “Good morning, did you get back to sleep alright?” He asked as he perched on the edge of my table.

               “I did, thank you. I’m still quite tired though.” I took a sip of my coffee and met his gaze over the top of my mug before he turned to Eren and Mikasa, the smirk still playing on his lips.

               “What about you two? Did you sleep alright?” Levi questioned and I thought it was odd for him to be showing such concern for his squad members. Usually, he never had much to say to them unless they were in trouble.

               “Uh. . . I’m a bit tired actually,” Eren hesitated as Mikasa yawned, “why do you ask, sir?” His gaze then locked onto Eren’s apprehensive eyes like Levi had him in an ocular chokehold and it was only a matter of time before the weaker man yielded. It wasn’t long before Eren looked to the ground and yawned into his hand.

               “We have training today and you look exhausted, I just want to make sure you’re in good shape.” Levi shrugged and turned back to me. “You smell nice, by the way.” He praised before he walked away, his voice perhaps a little too sultry to be making such admissions in a public space.

               Eren turned to me and I to him as we exchanged bewildered expressions concerning Levi’s peculiar behaviour. I could have offered him an explanation on my behalf, but confessing that I had spent the night in the captain’s bed would only raise more questions than answers. Instead, I finished my coffee and continued with my morning as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

 I didn’t see much of Levi throughout the rest of the day, only when we crossed paths as I was heading out of the training grounds for my lunch break and once again in the afternoon when I passed his office on my way to mine and he suggested that I take a nap to prepare for the night ahead. It had occurred to me that I would need to make up for the sleep that I lost last night if I wanted to stay awake on the ghost tour tonight. So while I was supposed to be filling out paperwork in my office that afternoon, I decided to take a power nap instead. I can fill these forms out tomorrow, I thought as I rested my head on my desk and closed my eyes.

 When I awoke I realised that my power nap was more of a deep sleep as I looked out of my office window and saw the setting sun half-submerged below the horizon. I wasn’t sure when I was supposed to be heading out with Levi, but the night was quickly approaching so I rushed to the bathroom to have a shower.

               After my shower I put on some casual (but warm) clothes and I felt fresh, but I desperately wanted Levi to tell me I smell nice again; this morning I almost felt as if I had lured him in with pheromones. The thought of sneaking into his room and rolling around in his bed had crossed my mind before I laughed it off, knowing how crazy and ridiculous that sounded. Alas, I settled for my fresh-out-of-the-shower smell, realising that although it may not be Levi’s cotton and lemon grass scent, it was certainly better than the resulting odour from half a day of training in the sun.

               Darkness had completely consumed the day by the time I was ready, like a blanket had been thrown over the sky and the stars were minute airholes that had been poked through it. An agitating wariness was growing inside me as the light in my bedroom started to fade and I was anxious of potential supernatural activity that may occur. Luckily, Levi knocked on my door before I witnessed anything frightening.

                “You ready?” He asked, his voice soft and cool as he stood in my doorway with one hand in his pocket and the other holding his jacket over his shoulder. His steel blue eyes pranced around my face so I returned the action, and for a moment we were embraced in a waltz of nonverbal communication as I danced over all the words I wished I could have said to him. The dance ended when I realised that I hadn’t answered Levi’s question, so I nodded my head and gave a shy ‘let’s go’ as I averted my eyes to the ground and warmth spread over my cheeks.

Link to Part Two

[vannahfanfics]

If you want a Mirko prompt, how about her taking a trip to Okunoshima? That way we can have ALL THE BUNNIES!

Yes! All the bunnies! This was super fun to write, and I threw a smidgeon of MirHawks in there just because I wasn’t sure how to tie it up XD

Publicity Stunts

Rumi’s lips were slightly pursed as she peered out of the small window of the helicopter. Below the sleek black accents, the blue waves of Japan’s Inland Sea sloshed and splashed, throwing up bubbly white seafoam in impressive arcs. Her red eyes slowly rolled in her sockets to spy the small silhouette of the lone island nestled within the bay. The morning sun framed its lumpy shape in black; the only contrast lay in its white beaches, which ringed the landmark like a curling ribbon. The sound-canceling headphones secured over her fluffy ears protected Rumi’s sensitive eardrums from the helicopter’s persistent buffeting chops as it spirited her onward to Okunoshima- better known as “Rabbit Island.”

Rumi was traveling to the historical park-slash-island as a public relations campaign her agency dreamed up. “You’re the Rabbit Hero!” her manager had squawked optimistically. “The public would adore you socializing with all these bunnies!” The corner of Rumi’s mouth twitched from just recalling the mortifying proposal. Rumi didn’t hate her animal namesake, naturally, and knew that public relations campaigns were the lifeblood of sponsorships and popularity polls… but did she really have to gallivant off to a spit of land off the coast and cozy up to some feral rabbits for six hours? There are so many more useful things I could be doing, she moped.

The subtle shift in air pressure indicated to her that the helicopter was landing. She straightened up in her seat and compulsively combed her fingers through her long, alabaster hair. The public arrived at Okunoshima via ferry, but Rumi was a VIP if there ever was one, hence her arrival by air; however, the island was not equipped with any sort of landing pad. Instead, the helicopter descended upon a flat stretch of clearing. The grass blades whipped wildly about as they were battered by the relentless air currents sweeping down from the helicopter’s swirling blades. The small-bodied aircraft shuddered as it finally made contact with the earth. Rumi kept the noise-canceling headphones over her tall ears until the engine’s whine dwindled to a small, whimpering keen. As she was wrenching them off her head and tossing them onto the floor, the island caretaker trotted up to the aircraft.

“Did you have a pleasant flight, Miss Mirko?” He asked politely as the lithe, tanned hero climbed out of the helicopter and hopped down onto the grass. Tsking, she clawed the steel-toes of her hero suit into the dirt, digging up clumps of damp earth and dry grass.

“Indeed,” she remarked but only because courtesy was customary. “Although I would prefer to leave the flying to Hawks,” she added with a cheesy sneer. She was only teasing, but the man still tugged at his tie and sputtered something about changing arrangements. “It’s not necessary,” she shrugged with a wave of her gloved hand. “Let’s just get this thing started already.”

“But of course!” the nervous academic simpered and because barking at his numerous assistants and employees to finish the preparations for Rumi’s photoshoot. The hero scowled when her manager quipped at her to exercise proper decorum. All this red tape and two-faced bullshit. Blegh, she thought sourly. While the men and women busied themselves by setting up cameras and props, Rumi wandered to the edge of the clearing.

The helicopter’s droning chopping blades and whirring engine had doubtlessly frightened the island’s residents. Now that the machine sat silent upon the grass, curiosity was beginning to get the better of them. Rumi’s eyebrow crept up a few centimeters as a fat, furry golden rabbit hopped out of some brambles upon her coming. Its nose twitched, and its little jaws were chomping some grass blades into a paste. They live up to their tame reputation, she thought in amusement as she strolled right up to the bunny and patted its round haunches. Though she had gloves, she could tell that the creature’s fur was silky and smooth. The tourism kept the rabbits in excellent health, it seemed.

“Mirko, em, Miss Mir-”

“Just ‘Mirko’ is fine,” she informed the island director as he came trundling to the edge of the clearing. It had a slight decline, and he seemed to be having a rough time of maneuvering through the slick grass in his fancy dress shoes. He probably sits in an air-conditioned office all day. He looks so out of his element it’s not even funny, she thought in mild disdain and straightened up. The man yelped when the smooth soles of his dress shoes slipped over the grass, causing him to fall and slide down the small hill. Rumi couldn’t help but smile when he stumbled up, and his sophisticated beige dress pants sported a streak of fresh green down the left side. He nervously adjusted his tie and cleared his throat.

“Mis- I mean, Mirko, all the preparations are complete.”

Mirko hiked up the hill with ease, with the sweating academic huffing and puffing behind her. The clearing had been transformed from a blank, empty canvas in a matter of minutes. A camera crew was bustling between three different cameras, adjusting lenses and arranging white umbrella-like structures to reflect the flash in a way that would flatter Rumi most. A picnic table was situated amongst a patch of white dandelions growing not far from the helicopter. Several tin buckets of carrots were scattered here and there, likely bribing tools for the island’s furry natives. Rumi sauntered up to pluck one of the orange root vegetables out of the bucket and chomp down on it with powerful jaws. A meek young assistant girl gawked wide-eyed at her as she devoured the carrot in seconds but seemed to have more sense than to question the Number-Five Hero.

“All right,” Rumi hummed and clapped her hands together. The leather of her gloves made the smack even more resounding. “Photograph me with some of these wild rabbits so I can get back to work.” Her manager whined miserably and tipped back her head at Rumi’s show of disdain, but Rumi didn’t care. I’m a hero, not a model, she grumped. This entire photo operation will get one run in a magazine and be forgotten in two weeks.

Rumi glanced down at something brushed against her navy-blue tights. A chunky spotted rabbit was nosing her calf, seemingly demanding pets. Smirking slightly, Rumi leaned over to grab the fuzzy creature and nuzzle him against her bosom. Well, at least all my other models are super cute, she smiled and gave the bunny some well-deserved scratches behind his floppy ears. The photographer called for Rumi to approach, so she did, still holding the contented bunny rabbit.

“Quite remarkable how tame they are,” the photographer grinned under the brim of his baseball cap and patted the spotted rabbit’s flank. Several other bunnies were bounding through the grass-and-flower field toward her, obviously jealous. Chittering impatiently, they butted their furry heads against her solid calves and bounded circles around her steel-toed feet. “They rather like you.”

“Surprising,” she remarked smugly with a twitch of her furry white ears.

~~~~~~~~~~

The photographer situated her at the picnic table first. They piled several of the big rabbits on its wooden surface, with Rumi leaning her cheek in her hand and smiling while hand-feeding them carrots. It actually wasn’t that difficult a pose to maintain, as Rumi found treating the rabbits quite entertaining. Their little jaws worked tirelessly at the crunchy orange root and sprigs of green leaves while their long ears constantly swiveled, searching the airwaves for any signs of danger. Their beady black eyes glittered in the sunlight; beady indeed but glimmering with an individual intelligence and charm that made Rumi smile happily. She removed one of her white leather gloves to stroke the length of one’s back, admiring the impeccable softness of its fur. By the time the photographer announced that they would be moving on to the next phase of the photoshoot, she was rather enjoying herself.

They got a few candid shots of Rumi strolling about through the tall grasses with the curious bunnies hopping along behind her. After a few minutes, she elected to have a fair bit of fun and crouched down to begin jumping along with her powerful legs. The rabbits sprinted after her, then playfully ran circles around her squatting body when she paused. The smile on her face was beaming as she hopped around the clearing with the bunnies. Twenty of them had meandered onto the photoshoot set, nearly all of them dashing along with the laughing Rumi.

“Ahaha! You guys sure are a lot of fun!” she crowed as she rolled onto her back, holding one of the fluffy bunnies aloft. Two more of them clambered up onto her belly, thumping against the toned flesh with powerful paws, while another climbed up her inclined legs to perch on her knees. Another still nested in her voluminous white hair and began chewing on the thin strands, thinking it nourishment. “Hey, cut that out,” she snickered and shoved it in the rump. It twitched its cottony, ball-shaped tail but obediently spat out her long locks. She heard the shutter of the camera snapping frantically and sat up, the rabbits slouching off her like they were boneless sacks of meat.

“I am so relieved you are enjoying our island’s residents!” the director sighed. He was sweating less now, though his earlier fit was evidenced by the damp patches in the armpits of his blue dress shirt. The green grass stripe still glared starkly in his pressed pants, and his tie was crumpled from how relentlessly he had been fidgeting with it.

“Yes, indeed,” she smiled while holding up one of the fluffy denizens. “I was unsure about it at first, but these little guys are quite adorable.” The camera flashed a few more times as Rumi brought the rabbit to her face to nuzzle her cheeks against the top of its head.

“This article is going to make headlines!” her manager cooed with happiness beside the reporter, who was scribbling notes on his notepad. Honestly, Rumi could care less about the publicity or her ratings. She flopped back into the fresh green grasses, and the bunnies immediately congregated around her, nuzzling into every spare inch of space they could find. Their warm bodies insulated Rumi, spreading cozy head from the crown of her head to the tips of her toes; her eyes drifted shut at the contenting heat. She giggled as one of the bunnies nosed her face, and its whiskers tickled her soft skin.

There are more useful things I could be doing, she thought as her mind descended into the twilight of half-sleep, but I suppose a hero could use a break every once and a while. She supposed she could have netted herself a more annoying public relations campaign than falling asleep beneath the summer sun blanketed by cute little bunnies, after all.

She would have appreciated it if they hadn’t used that image as the front cover for Heroes Magazine, however.

Rumi glared thunderously at Hawks as he sat across from her at the café table. He was doubled over in the wrought-iron chair cackling so hysterically that the other patrons were glancing over in concern. Rumi’s tall white ears repeatedly twitched in annoyance at the high pitch of his snickers. After what seemed like an eternity, he slowly sat up, a hand over his mouth to smother the lingering giggles leaking out.

“Are you finished, Hawks?”

“I’m sorry,” the red-winged hero whimpered with another fervid glance at the damning photograph plastered on the cover of the magazine. “It’s just- It makes you look so innocent and sweet!” he howled and threw himself back in the chair. As he flung his bulk, the chair tipped backward on two legs. “Oh no!” he yelped and pinwheeled his arms to rebalance himself. The iron furniture seemed to hang in the air for a moment before falling backward, gaining momentum before striking the concrete with a resounding clang. Rumi smirked, fancying karma had struck the bird-brain quite justly. “I suppose I deserved that,” he huffed while pulling himself up using the edge of the glass-topped café table.

“I agree with you, actually,” she huffed and daintily sipped at her latte. “That photograph is horrible for my reputation. I can’t have all my young fans thinking I’m some delicate princess.” Hawks grinned at her as he righted his chair and plunked down, more cautiously this time. He laced his fingers and tucked him under his chin, and his shining eyes gleamed behind his golden visor.

“True, I suppose. Although- and don’t hit me for this- I think it’s also quite a flattering image of you.” Rumi’s cheeks flushed hot and red, and she thumped his shin under the table with the flat of her foot. He whined miserably and clutched at his assaulted leg. “I said, don’t hit me!”

“I didn’t. I kicked you.”

“That’s even worse! You could crush watermelons with your thighs, y’know, so I’m sure one of your kicks could crush bones!” he whined, rubbing tenderly at the likely bruised flesh. Rumi smirked, momentarily fantasizing what crushing a watermelon on live television would do for her image. Her red eyes fell back to the magazine, where she lay amongst the flowers and snoozing bunnies. Her white hair cascaded around her, running like rivers of milk between her tanned limbs and the bunnies’ multicolored fur. Her lips were slightly parted, and her head tilted to the side, making the golden sunlight spill over her dark skin and make it glow a rich bronze. Her eyes were slightly scrunched up. She really did look innocent and content… and dare she say, beautiful. Her cheeks hazed again, and she looked at Hawks to find him grinning seductively.

She kicked him in the other shin, and he wailed miserably. She stood from the table, draining the dregs of her latte as he pitifully peered up at her. “Mirko, whyyy?”

“Because you’re a hundred years too early to try and flirt with me, feathers,” she huffed. The ceramic mug clinked against the saucer as she set it down. Grinning, Rumi flashed him a wink. “But I might forgive you if you buy my coffee. Ciaoooo~!” Using her thick legs, she sprinted away, leaving Hawks cursing yet impressed in the dust. Her laughter floated back to him on the wind.

Needless to say, that photoshoot worked wonders for her popularity, in all sorts of ways…

Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free to peruse my Table of Contents!

Tag List: @deliathedork @simplybakugou @sadistiks

[ask-them-bois]

Letters, pt 2

Ashhur, his head bowed, made his way through the silent streets of a small, secluded mountain village. The young mutant was covered from head to toe, a poncho that reached his bare feet concealing his fins below. A hood was pulled up over his head; the only thing left visible was his horns.

Even though this was a lowblood dwelling, there was nowhere he wasn’t without danger these days, and even he wasn’t foolish enough to walk into a populated area with his mutations on display.

His muted footsteps and the chitter of birds were the only sounds in the street; the sun was still setting, trolls were only beginning to stir in their hives. The smell of wood smoke and cooking things make his nose itch, and he quickly reached up to rub it, revealing a heavily bandaged arm; he’d wrapped his fins up, pinning them against his skin to keep them concealed. 

Not for the first time, he contemplated returning to the sea, where he wouldn’t have to go through these extremes; but just like always, he buried that thought quickly. He’d come so far now, Master Urfath had enough trust in his abilities to send him on this mission.

“DoN’T come back if THaT limeblooded moTHerfUcker aiN’T dead.” His master’s parting words echoed through his head.

“.. ..-. / .... . / .. ... / -. --- - / -.. . .- -.. --..-- / .. / .--. .-. --- -... .- -... .-.. -.-- / .-- .. .-.. .-.. / -... . --..-- / ... --- / .. / .-- --- ..- .-.. -.. / -. --- - / .-. . - ..- .-. -. / .- -. -.-- .-- .- -.-- --..-- / -- .- ... - . .-. .-.-.-*“ He muttered under his breath. *(If he is not dead, I probably will be, so I would not return anyway, Master.)

As he padded through the streets, the first risers of the evening began to emerge from their hives. He quickly tucked his arms below his cape again and kept walking.

Just as he reached the edge of the village, he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Wait a minute young man, you’re not going into the Ethereal Mountains, are you?” A voice asked.

It took everything he had not to cry out as they touched his currently crushed down shoulder-fins. Gritting his over-sized teeth, he turned to look at who had grabbed him. It was an elderly looking, tealblooded woman who was leaning on a cane with her other hand. He kept his head bowed to hide his eyes.

“I... am.” Ashhur informed her, forcing foreign the words out past his tongue; he still wasn’t accustomed to Alternian, despite all of Master Urfath’s lessons. The language of the deep was so much easier, he thought. “I have... job, to do.” The elder shook her head, clicking her tongue in disapproval as she removed her hand.

“You don’t want to be doing that, young one. Those woods and mountains aren’t for us to go trekking about in willy-nilly. Not unless you’ve got his permission.” She cautioned.

“... His?” Ashhur repeated. She nodded.

“Our village’s guardian.” She explained, an almost reverent tone in her voice as she looked up at the mountains before them, “He may look like a young oliveblood, but don’t be fooled. He’s got a power in his blood; most of us are sure he’s a spirit. He can summon howl-beasts and outrun drones. He’s felled antler-beasts and carried them miles.

He knows when storms approach, and always has fresh food for us in winter. He lives in those woods, lords over those stony hills. No one goes in there unless he gives them permission. It’s best you find elsewhere to do this job.”

Ashhur shook his head slowly, raising his head to show his face. “Job. Is with... him.” He gurgled. The teal’s eyes widened.

“Oh, dear. I see. Are you- yes, yes, I could see- your horns. Yes, right. I...” she cleared her throat, backing away, “I must be going, have a good night, sir.” She said, before turning on her heel and limping away.

Ashhur waited for a moment, before he turned and kept walking. His footsteps fell silent as he stepped off the cobblestone walk and onto grass. He shuddered, as the greenery brushed the pads on the bottom of his feet; it tickled unpleasantly, but he grit his teeth harder and kept going.

He was swallowed by the trees, quickly leaving the village behind. He trod onward, heading for the mountain before him as the smell of pine trees and pollen clogged his nose.

When he felt that he was a safe enough distance away from the village, he used his claws to slit the bandages and make them drop, freeing his fins from their imprisonment. He sighed, contented, and picked up his pace, pulling his poncho off as he went and tossing it to the forest floor to retrieve later.

Underneath the cloak, he was back in his pink and fuchsia skirt. The fins on his shoulders, legs, back, and elbows flared to life, stretching out after being pressed down for so long.

At Ashhur’s side, hung onto his waist by a belt, was a pair of clawed gloves. He pulled them off their belt and slipped them on as he ran.

They were fingerless, leather gloves, with razor, serrated blades- fastened at the knuckles- that stretched over his natural claws; a gift from his master.

“I was saviN’ THese for laTer, bUT I THiNk ye caN have ‘em Now. YoU’re besT aT HaNd Ta HaNd combaT wiT’ THose big ass claws of yers, so I goTcHa a weapoN THaT’ll make ya Twice as deadly,” Hounding had told him when he gave them to him, “THey’re called SevereNiTy Claws. Yer TraiNiN’ is goiNg To inclUde daily pracTice wiT’ THem Now, Too. BUT ya geT a field TesT wiTH THem before we geT To THaT.”

Ashhur flexed his fingers, watching the moonlight glint off his steel talons. His fins fluttered happily.

He pulled up short, however, as he arrived at the mouth of a tunnel that steadily sloped upwards, into the dark; the entrance to the limeblood’s cave. His grin slipped from his face, his four eyes casting about as he cautiously approached.

The limeblood was surely still asleep; Ashhur didn’t want this fight to happen, he just wanted to run in, do the deed, and get out, hopefully before the lime’s lusus caught him.

Taking a breath to steel himself, he marched forward, ducking inside.

It was dark, but Ashhur’s eyes adjusted quickly. The scent of stone and water and smoke drifted past his nose, the temperature seeming to drop rapidly the further he went.

The tunnel began to slope upwards steadily at first, but quickly got steeper and steeper until Ashhur was practically clawing his way upwards. Glancing up, he saw the limeblood had installed thick, heavy ropes into the stone above. Grabbing them, Ashhur found himself suddenly, easily, pulling himself upwards.

He nearly stumbled over himself as the ground abruptly leveled out. He managed to stay on his feet and he quickly looked around. Before him stretched a long corridor of stone, before it began to rise and twist upwards again at the far end. Torches lined the wall to the left, illuminating a painted mural on the right.

Ashhur stepped closer to it, his breath suddenly taken away.

The mural stretched from the floor to the ceiling, spanning nearly the entire hall. A snow-capped mountain range and forest of pines unfurled along the bottom half of the wall, so detailed it might as well have been a photograph. Every ridge and rock in the mountains was accounted for, and every creek and log in the forest showed through the branches. Birds skimmed over the treetops, every feather painstakingly accounted for.

Along the mountains, hundreds, maybe thousands, of howl-beasts stood, their muzzles pointed to the sky above. From their muzzles unfurled colors that seemed to shimmer and glow as they twisted and curled into the air.

His eyes following the lines, Ashhur raised his head to see them connect to an awe-inspiring expanse of the northern lights. Freckled with countless stars, the lights seemed to wave and dance as the torchlight flickered across them, the fiery images of creatures morphing out of the vibrant colors.

Above it all, running along the top of the lights, was a glowing constellation that seemed to radiate its very own energy. The bright stars aligned to create an enormous, three-headed how-beast. Black holes became eyes, nebulas became scars, the stars and comets blending together in a gorgeous haze that resembled white fur.

Upon the beast’s back rode two, smaller figures; they were trolls, Ashhur guessed, but they, too, were made of space.

Outlined by stars, the first figure was filled in with a bright, bright green nebula that morphed ever so slightly out of bounds, giving the illusion of a howl-beast’s head shrouding their own. Crescent shaped horns unfurled above their head, the two Alternian moons creating their shape. The figure was sitting upon the howl-beast’s shoulders, his hands fisted in the canine’s fur. An entire galaxy swirled in their chest, their eyes brilliant stars that seemed to shimmer with with a wild fire.

The second figure, too, was bordered by their own stars. A brilliant, vivid, sapphire blue nebula was contained within, though it, too, broke its borders, creating a howl-beast-like tail upon the base of their spine that weaved through the air. Horns like a ram’s were streaked an even darker blue across the figure’s head, their starry eyes made to seem brighter by contrast. An alignment of planets curved along their spine, the moons around them creating a vague impression of wings.

The seadweller leaped out of his skin at the feeling of cold stone on his back. He whirled around, only to realize he’d backed up against the other wall, so as to take in the whole picture at once. His dorsal fin shuddered, flaring back out. He blinked, reaching up and rubbing all of his eyes with the back of his hands. He slowly looked up at the mural again.

The whole thing seemed to pulse, to hum with an energy that thundered with passion. Hours, days, weeks, perhaps months of work went into such a masterpiece, so much so that that stone seemed to bleed with sorrow.

That’s what it was, Ashhur realized; a work of grief, not devotion. Every star was brought to life in an attempt to call back what had gone on to meet them in the sky.

Just as he was gathering himself, ready to force himself to move on, the seadweller froze; he could hear footsteps, echoing down the tunnel and steadily growing louder. They suddenly stopped, and the mutant dared look up.

Vornik had come down the slope, stopping several feet away; still on the incline, everything from the limeblood’s shoulders and upwards were hidden in shadow. His eyes shone in the dim light as he observed the intruder, caught between surprise and confusion.

“Wha? are you-” He began, but Ashhur didn’t let him finish.

He didn’t hesitate. That was something Hounding had taught him; hesitation in battle means death. Before the limeblood could react, Ashhur was charging him, talons at the ready.

Metal clashed against metal in a horrendous shriek that made Ashhur instinctively leap back, eyes narrowed and fins folded in pain. Vornik, his reflexes honed from sweeps of survival, had whipped out his sickle just in time to block the seadweller’s movements.

“What ?he fu¿k was ?ha? for_??!” The limeblood demanded.

Ashhur wasn’t listening; he was picking up on the tremors in the stone. Along the mutant’s spine was a line of sensitive ‘organs’, much like the lateral line on a fish. Like a fish, Ashhur could sense vibrations, currents, and movement around him; it sent shivers up his spine as the stone around him quaked, ever so subtly, responding to the loud noise the weapons had made.

A faint popping noise, deep in the rocks, signaled the presence of bubbles in the earth; if too many of them broke, the tunnel would most likely come down, he realized. It was already weak from where Vornik had embedded rock bolts along the walls and ceiling, and much of the slag was already shifty, most likely from Vornik working to make the tunnel easier to pass through.

He’d have to finish this fast, then, he decided, before the ceiling came down on them. Before Vornik could move or open his mouth again, Ashhur was once again upon him, the whole thought process taking mere seconds.

Vornik snarled, using his sickle to thrust the mutant away. When Ashhur lunged again, Vornik flicked a small button on his sickle, sending the blade flying out on a long chain. He flung it forward, towards Ashhur’s face

Acting on instinct, Ashhur caught the curved blade- his palm protected by the gloves- and ripped it towards himself, heaving it out of Vornik’s grip.

“Wha-” Vornik gasped as his weapon clattered to the floor, behind the mutant. The metal clanged against stone, sending a burst of sparks into the air. The tunnel rumbled, ever so subtly, again.

Ashhur ignored it and lunged again. Vornik bared his teeth, even as his eyes shone with fear. He dropped low and rolled away, ripping his hunting knife out of his boot. Still low and on one knee, he raised it in time to catch Ashhur’s talons, the blades screaming off one another before locking together.

Vornik, despite his scrawny stature, had strength to him. A strength that caught Ashhur off guard as the limeblood lunged upwards, at the same time he swung his left leg around, sweeping for Ashhur’s legs.

The seadweller snarled as he was knocked off balance, stumbling back to keep on his feet. Before he could regain composure, Vornik barreled into him like a linebacker, at the same time he jerked his knife away, disengaging from Ashhur’s talons.

Ashhur’s snarl became a roar of pain as he was slammed into the wall with all the force in Vornik’s body. The sound of his cry made Vornik scramble away; like Survivor, Ashhur’s voice was like that of a booming speaker. The lime clutched his head and whimpered, his ears no doubt ringing.

What drowned out his bellow, however, was the almighty crack in the stone behind him. Jerking his head up, Ashhur saw the stone had fractured where he’d hit it, splitting the breathtaking painting in half.

Ashhur froze.

Vornik froze.

Both of them stared at where the fissure perfectly ripped between the two figures on the cerberus howl-beast’s back.

As the last echoes of the the cracking noise died away, the entire tunnel rumbled loudly. Ashhur could see the walls trembling now. He jumped away from the mural and saw the break begin to grow, threads like a spider’s web jumping across the paint and stone in jagged lines.

“N... no-” Vornik whispered, his eyes only for the shattering masterpiece before him. He said something else, too, something that could have been a name, but Ashhur couldn’t hear him; it was drowned out by the ear-breaking snap above them.

Jerking his head up, he saw the break had reached the ceiling, the whole tunnel quaking now. Stones wriggled loose and fell, shattering on the stone floor. Bolts burst out of the rock like corks from wine bottles, only to slam into the opposite walls and create their own holes and breaks.

He looked at Vornik again as the tunnel began to fall apart in earnest now.

The limeblood hadn’t moved, his eyes bulging from their head as he stared at the crumbling art; his chest heaved as he fought for breath, but they were coming too fast, too short, before the lime threw his head back and screamed, tears suddenly pouring from his eyes.

Ashhur cringed away, turned, and fled.

He hounded down the slope, the limeblood’s screams following him as the tunnel collapsed.

The thunder of the stones crashing, breaking, shattering, the roar of his own blood in his ears, the pounding of his heart- they were all Ashhur could hear as he flung himself forward.

He could see the exit just ahead, and he grit his teeth, all eyes narrowed as he sprinted for it.

Just as the mountain seemed to rip itself apart and cave inwards, Ashhur flew out of the mouth of the cave.

He hit the ground and rolled onto his back, scrambling away. He watched in a sick fascination as the entire mountain seemed to come down, an avalanche of stone and dirt caving inwards like flesh on a rotting corpse.

As the mountain gave a final heave, the limeblood’s screams cut off.

Ashhur didn’t move, holding his breath as the dust slowly settled. He blinked rapidly, his mind racing a mile a minute but his consciousness unable to hold onto any of the thoughts.

In the distance, he heard a booming, nearly otherworldly howl, that overlapped with itself thrice; Vornik’s lusus was calling for him.

Ashhur got up and ran.

[dramaplustautology]

Happy birthday Ryunn!!!! You’re such a sweet, fun, and caring person, I’m glad we get to be budbuds~~~~~~~ <3

I wrote a small thing about Nico and I hope you’ll enjoy it 👀

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Sitting at the very end of the bar, alone and nervous under the hazy pot lights of the Panacæa, was a sweet little morsel. The quiet Thursday night made their heart flutter, and they waited for the bartender to notice them despite being at the front of the queue.

Nico dragged his tongue over his lips, tasting the acrid cigarette smoke wafting from the booths. Hidden in the fog’s stench was the gentle tang of his prey’s cold sweat melding with the perfume their mother must have sprayed at them on their way out.

The spoiled, sheltered sorts weren’t Nico’s first choices. Though he and his ‘colleagues’ didn’t hunt for the same reasons, neither preferred meat untainted by worry or fear.

But, while this heiress sat on plush couches waiting for stylists to pick out their clothing, their pulse rose for no reason. Nico recalled them telling him once that getting fitted in front of a mirror gave them symptoms resembling a panic.

Gabriel was a child reared under the umbrella of a runaway rich record label and hated every minute of it.

Coming to this bar, even if it made the little lady steep in anxiety, must have been a small revenge against the person that put them in front of the mirror.

That was how it was, at first.

Shifting her eyes from her clasped lap for a moment, the tabloid’s “Shy Gabby” looked up at the spaces between the shelves of spirits. There, she spied a new painting Nico had hung up to replace a copied print.

“I thought a genuine piece would be more interesting.” The bartender enjoyed startling his patrons, and watching how quickly they slid back to ease. His guest stifled a gasp, straightening their back in fright before letting their shoulders relax, though not all the way. The heiress and her heavily concealed eye bags never quite fully relaxed.

Leaning a hand on his countertop, Nico splayed his fingers and regarded the girl’s widened eyes through their bangs. They gazed at the glint of his piercings, quickly matching his green gaze.

In the low lighting, Nico’s slitted pupils were dilated just enough to pass as human. With how threat held an air of allure, the close brush was on purpose.

“You don’t like it.” He smiled easily.

Gabby struggled to reply, going so far as to hide her blushing cheeks behind her hands.

“Um, hi Nico,” She settled on greeting him sheepishly. “It’s uh, not that don’t like it. I’m just getting certain strong feelings.”

True to her polite upbringing, Gabby downplayed how the painting made her want to throttle a child.

The painting itself was reminiscent of a pastoral paradise; a summer’s day in a garden just outside an orchard. Vibrant greens and yellows contrasted the darker ambience of the bar, and if you squinted, you could see the crushed little daises in the grass.

Despite the peaceful scenery, the artwork screamed. Off in the corner of that garden was a white wooden picnic bench where a mother had laid an array of desserts for her baby’s birthday. Most of it was on the ground, and the baby was shrieking so hard that a vessel had burst in their eye. Both mother and child were red in the face, one from stress and the other from temper.

They took up the smallest section of the beautiful canvas yet commanded total attention.

“This is a Degrassi piece,” Nico explained, wanting to smoke a pack just from staring that the thing for too long. “Titled ‘Nightmare,’”

“Really?” Gabby creased her brow. “All because of a little baby?”

“You see a baby, but Degrassi originally named it ‘The Obstacle.’”

Biting her lip, the heiress seemed to want to say something. Whatever it was clearly bothered her but she swallowed her troubles. Nico figures a chaser would eventually help it bubble back to the surface.

“A blue paloma for you?” Nico offered her the usual. “With the spiced rim?”

Glad for a diversion, Gabby nodded eagerly. “Yes please!”

“Unfortunately, it’ll be off the menu very soon,” Nico informed her, watching her smile fall. “I’m slimming down the selection for costs, you see? More of my patrons prefer the original recipe and the syrup for the blue paloma and its sisters are expensive. I have to prioritize what’s important.’

“Oh…” Gabby stifled a sigh as Nico filled a crystal highball with mint leaves and slices of citrus.

“So, don’t go running of anywhere,” He cracked open a brand-new bottle of the Empress Butterfly, and drizzled it over the fruit. “I’ll keep a bottle in house, just for you.”

Gabby couldn’t stop herself from smiling, leaning over the bar to watch him turn the glass sky-blue with the tequila and grapefruit soda.

“Just for me,” Gabby repeated, becoming a flustered pink. Her anxiety slowly gaining on her.

“Like I said, I have to prioritize what’s important.” The heiress’ reaction pleased him, and he let a fang peak out of his smile. He slid the drink towards her, directing her attention there. His tongue swiped away the venom leaking from his aching teeth.

There was no need to overdo, or waste more on that blue bottle. The venom rubbed into the bottom of that glass was close to an overdose for a fragile regular.

Inhaling slowly, Nico watched the drink touch Gabby’s lips, and the bitter tang of his venom sliding over her tongue remained undetected. His poison sunk into her flesh, working fast as the worst of it coursed down her throat.

“I wonder,” The bartender glanced at the painting. “Maybe I should put that thing back in storage if it’s making everyone uncomfortable.”

“No, no,” Gabby shook her head, pushing her platinum hair out of her face. She couldn’t quite focus her eyes on the picture. “Or well, no for me. No as in it doesn’t bother me that way. The way that—” she waved the words away from her face.

“Go on.” Nico encouraged her, nodding at a passing patron heading to the washroom.

“That title, and that baby actually makes me a little laughy,” Gabby touched her numb chin. “Before my parents got married, my dad already had a little boy. Mom never liked my big brother. Not even when he got old enough to take care of me. Once I got a big scholarship, he decided that I could take care of myself, and dropped off the map.”

She paused to reach the bottom of her glass. Flushed almost as brightly as the subjects of the painting, Gabby gaped at her empty drink in confusion.

“Sorry, I don’t usually pound these back so fast.”

“Don’t apologize for a compliment,” Nico smirked, having already prepped a second paloma. As far as he knew, Gabby never smoked. The addictiveness of his venom was hitting her hard. Her chest rose and fell faster but she didn’t notice, reaching for the glass herself. “But for your brother’s disappearance, I’m awfully sorry about that.”

“That’s okay, I really like talking about him,” She glanced at the painting, needing to really screw her eyes to see that annoying little baby. “Mom threw out all of his pictures, so seeing that painting is…” She leaned her cheek on her palm, her words slurring together. “…seeing him again.”

A pair of men got up from their booth and headed for the washroom. Nico watched them carefully, and concluded that didn’t notice Gabby slouching over.

Gabby raised her drink and missed her mouth. The drink sloshed against her chin and dripped on her clothes.

“Wait, wait, I have to thank you,” She gripped the edge of the bar. “You’re keeping that bottle just for me, and talking just to me. What about, what about your other customers?”

“It’s no—” Nico looked up and saw the entire bar empty, save for a man wobbling towards the washroom. “—problem?”

“I should call my driver over just in case,” Gabby dug rummaged through her coat pocket, not quite being able to get a good grip on her phone. “I think I’m floating.”

Nico closed his hand over hers, the cold perspiration of the glass dripping over their fingers. He brushed his knuckles against her cheek and she was far gone enough to lean against them.

“Don’t you remember? You didn’t want your mother to find out how bad you’ve been. Won’t you stay a while longer?” He was closing in on Gabby. She could smell the poison on his breath. A sickly sweetness mingled in his words, masking Nico’s growing annoyance at the spoiled little kid.

After she ‘disappears,’ the real stars would wander in. Her parents, despairing over the loss of both their children, would eventually find their way here, plummeting out of the sky to join shy Gabby.

Unlike his colleagues, Nico didn’t just pluck litter off the ground. He wanted to make the stars fall.

“You’re...” Gabby rubbed her eye, feeling her throat close as her vision blurred. “You’re so nice to me.”

With the bar empty, Nico stood back and let Gabby’s head fall on the counter. It bruised her forehead but he merely regarded her banally.

“Such a waste,” The snake tsked, lifting the half drunken cocktail. Gabby murmured something and Nico lifted a brow. “Still there?” He flicked his tongue out and tasted copper. “I shouldn’t have given you a full dose. There could have been a second catch if I saved.”

He had given her enough venom to kill a full-grown human. Gabby was in her twenties but childish that Nico could argue that she didn’t qualify but, he didn’t expect it to make her bleed.

“Hm.” He rolled her head to check if her nose or eyes were bleeding. Seeing them dry, he pried her mouth open and clean drool dripped out.

Then where was that smell coming from?

Tasting the air, he mulled over his empty bar. Panic stabbed him in the ass the moment he realized no one had left the building.

“Fuck!” He rushed out from behind the bar and down the hall towards the bathrooms. Throwing open the door to the men’s, Nico almost broke the steel handle from the absolute mess those animals made in his business.

Blood was splattered everywhere, because the humans had the foresight to use knives instead of guns.

Three men were flooding the floor on the ground, and a fourth was slouched in the back stall, groaning pitifully.

“H-help me,” They cried, having heard the door open.

“Ssssssshut up.” Nico hissed, stepping away from the spreading blood pond. If he left footprints, the police were going to ask about it.

Of course he’d have to call the cops. Nico would owe every asshole on the street a favor if he tried to hide four bodies by himself.

Gripping his hair, he scanned the washroom to figure out exactly what the hell happened.

The man dying in the stall must have been the first one to to arrive, followed by the two mobsters Nico had repeatedly told not to conduct their deals in his establishment. Obviously not listening to him, the idiots probably began talking without checking for other people in the stalls.

Judging by how close their body was to the first man’s, they noticed him, thought they were being listened in on, killed him, and turned to each other.

‘I got set up,’ The mobsters both thought, and wrestled with each other.

Nico had chosen to have the bathrooms as far as reasonably possible from the bar, asking the renovators to rework the ventilations to guarantee human guests wouldn’t be bothered by smells or noises. So that’s why he didn’t hear a skull smashing on the edge of a sink. The giant pig took an entire corner off the sink.

That was when the fourth person rolled on the scene, drunk out of their mind. The survivor should have told him that they were having a bad dream and turn him around. Too bad he went for flashy and slashed at the jugular, which explains the spray on the ceiling and the body laying against the wall.

“Last man standing, how did you die?” Nico asked the one face down on the drain. There was a clean streak by his shoe and the snake figured he was laying on top of his knife.

Slipped and fell. Classic slapstick.

The body was close enough for Nico to touch without stepping into the blood. He slid on gloves he always kept in the lapel of his coat, and rolled the man over.

Whether his theory as correct or not didn’t matter in the end.

None of this was his doing but when the police come to investigate, they were going to do a sweep for evidence. The uniforms had the tools to detect clues Nico couldn’t, including traces of his venom on the cups, the tables, Gabby……

Retreating from the washroom, Nico dialed his tenant’s number and waited for their sleepy voice. It took three calls for them to pick up.

“I was taking my 1AM nap.” She snapped at him.

“It’s freezing down here, check the thermostat and dial the heat up.”

The line went dead, and Nico could hear her stomping out of her room.

Returning to the bar, he stood over Gabby’s still body. She was in a deep sleep, dreaming without a care in the world.

Grumbling, Nico pulled an antidote from his belt and looked for a syringe behind the counter.

“You’re lucky I can’t handle hiding you and a quadruple homicide at once.” He pierced the vial’s container with the needle, pulling on the plunger with his teeth. “You get one more week.”

Yanking Gabby’s hair out of the way, he stabbed the syringe into her neck.

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

Come two in the morning, Nico was watching Gabby wake up. She weakly lifted her head and tried to flex her fingers. The residual effects of the venom made her feel heavy and she collapsed back on to the bar counter. Luckily, Nico’s folded coat was there to cushion her chin.

“Had a few pre-drinks before you went out?’ Nico asked, sitting right next to her. “No judgements. A little offended, I’ll admit, but no judgements.”

“I didn’t,” Gabby rubbed her temple, equal parts humiliated at her behavior and grateful that Nico watched over her. “What happened to me?” She asked herself, eyes blood shot. They snapped wide and her cheeks puffed up.

Slapping a hand over her mouth, Gabby ran for the washroom and Nico watched her go. The anti-venom tended to cause intense nausea and emptied the stomach for whatever reason. Luckily, it would do so in quick fashion and hopefully not turn them inside out in the women’s room.

Either way, it would soon be over.

He went back to his workspace and began prepping a hangover remedy.

Gabby was back surprisingly quickly, only a little pale from her ordeal. She peeked out of the corner of the corridor to watch him crush ginger into a glass.

“Ginger and sugar’s good for hangovers. Come over and tell me if you prefer orange or cranberry,” Nico flashed a relaxed grin at her. “Actually, better idea. Would you like to help? I’ve found that moving around can help with the cricks.”

Silent at first, observing Nico with a bleary gaze, the lure of his voice made her loosen her shoulders. Gabby removed her jacket as she approached the bar.

Nico’s brows rose, seeing something off about her appearance. Was her bust always so modest? Huh, maybe she wore pads in public appearances.

“Sorry for making you look after me like that.” She apologized quietly.

“No worries, I spent the time cleaning the washrooms,” He laughed inwardly at his cheeky remark. “And you’re stalling.”

Shifting her weight from one foot to the other, Gabby fidgeted with the edge of her shirt. It drew Nico’s attention to how much she looked different from her magazine appearances.

“I’m embarrassed,” Gabby interrupted Nico’s thoughts, coming to stand beside him. “There’s never been a need for me to cook anything. I mean, this isn’t cooking but I haven’t used a knife to even slice an orange.”

“It’s never too late to make a change. Try something new,” He stepped back and motioned Gabby to stand in next to him. “But since it’s a first, let me walk you through it.”

The heiress was being hesitant, staring at Nico’s tie rather than his face. He amused the idea of taking care of his problems the hard way, throwing the possibility of dismemberment on the table, but Gabby stepped into his space.

“You’re right.” She nodded, inhaling sharply at his cold hands laying themselves on her fingers. At second glance, he was wearing plastic gloves. “W-what would you think about a haircut?”

Barely registering the question, Nico pushed a knife handle into here palm and let his face brush against her hair as a distraction. He could practically see the shiver run up her spine.

Disregarding it as Gabby’s way of awkwardly filling the air, Nico replied “You’d look good whichever way but that isn’t for me to decide. I hope the changes you’ll make will convince you to smile at the mirror.”

Her lips twitched, floundering over how to react.  

Then, she gripped the knife tight and cut into the fruit.

“Thank you,” She glanced at the snake, truly grateful. “You’ve always listened and taken care of me. Thank you.” Gabby repeated.

And what of it? How hard was it to take note?

Whittling the hour away over small talk and fruit juice, the conversation veered into what Nico used to have on his wall. Cleopatra, the Anti-Christ on Leviathan, and Thor wading through the waters of Aesir. Gabby hoped to travel to where those works were born.

“Let me bring you a piece someday.” Gabby promised on her way out of the bar.

“Do you need a taxi?”

“I don’t think so. Walking might not be so bad.”

“Goodbye then.” Nico said, watching her wave back at him from the door. Her slim frame disappeared from view beyond the shaded class doors. There was no doubt in the snake’s mind that she’d never come back.

Whistling, he removed the blade from the knife handle and returned it to its original holder. Now riddled with Gabby’s fingerprints, with strands of her hair scattered on the bathroom floor, the police would have to focus on the most obvious evidence instead of raiding his entire bar.

Sending in every little bit of evidence they could find to the labs would be too expensive.

They had to prioritize.

He wiped the sweat from his brow, and was about to go toss the knife into the bathroom when the doors swung open once again.

A different woman sauntered through the threshold.

“I see you’ve cranked the heating, Degrassi,” Nico drawled, pointedly bored at her arrival. “It’s a greenhouse in here.”

Eulia, fresh out of her studio, had recognized the stench seeping up from the floorboards. With some sort of insane foresight, her bastard landlord had organized the wide room above the bathrooms.

“Time of death, who the hell knows when the little bugs have a hot party on those corpses,” Eulia pressed her finger to her chin, smiling at the prospect. “I did your dirty work. At least let me take reference photos.”

“Make it quick.” He gestured to the bathrooms.

“Hope you didn’t let Mr. Gabe see your disaster before I did.”

It was a throwaway comment that made the room spin.

“What did you say?” Nico hissed through his fangs, pupils slimming to pinpricks.

Eulia, annoyed that he was stalling her, gripped her hips and hurried the explanation.

“Right, like you would know. Mr. Gabe and I went to the same University before I dropped out. We had to do group projects and he works better with the right pronouns,” Eulia twisted her lips and narrowed her eyes. “Actually, you must have slithered real close if he was comfortable enough to wear a binder around you.”

Backing into a highchair, Nico leaned his elbows on the arm rest and stared at the ceiling. He should be running; tasting the cold night’s wind for any trace of the witness. But what was the point; Gabe must have taken pictures of the scene if he had been so calm this whole time!

The pot lights glared at Nico and they were blinding.

“Wait, did you let him go to the bathroom?” Eulia trilled a truly awful giggle. “Oh big brother, relax! You’re truly loved! By Gabe and the Great Beast himself.”

“I only talked to him.” Nico glared at he, digging his fangs into his lip.

“And that shit stain was only a baby.”

He couldn’t listen to any more of it.

Nico trudged out of his bar to where the bodies lay rotting. Lingering on the knife in his gloved hands, the snake thought on the fool that had turned him into a worm.

Snarling, he threw the knife into the sea of blood, and banked on a miracle.

[cheasethings]

how cedar symbology reinforces the theory of Others as evicted weirwood spirits

asoiaf meta

this.. essay? heavily relies on theories and information gathered in the Mythical Astronomy of Ice and Fire by Lucifer means Lightbringer, so props to him and i hope this makes sense if youre unfamiliar with that work.

linking cedars to weirwoods:

"'Who knows more of gods than I? Horse gods and fire gods, gods made of gold with gemstone eyes, gods carved of cedar wood, gods chiseled into mountains, gods of empty air . . .'" -The Iron Captain, AFFC note 'carved'

"He did not like this Isle of Cedars either. The hunting might be good, but the forests were too green and still, full of twisted trees and queer bright flowers like none his men had ever seen before, and there were horrors lurking amongst the broken palaces and shattered statues of drowned Velos, half a league north of the point where the fleet lay at anchor. The last time Victarion had spent a night ashore, his dreams had been dark and disturbing and when he woke his mouth was full of blood. The maester said he had bitten his own tongue in his sleep, but he took it for a sign from the Drowned God, a warning that if he lingered here too long, he would choke on his own blood." -The Iron Suitor, ADWD

note 'too green' and the fact that Victarion has Strange Dreams sleeping here and wakes with weirwood stigmata (a mouth full of blood, like a weirwood)

HIstory of cedars:

"For centuries Meereen and her sister cities Yunkai and Astapor had been the linchpins of the slave trade, the place where Dothraki khals and the corsairs of the Basilisk Isles sold their captives and the rest of the world came to buy. Without slaves, Meereen had little to offer traders. Copper was plentiful in the Ghiscari hills, but the metal was not as valuable as it had been when bronze ruled the world. The cedars that had once grown tall along the coast grew no more, felled by the axes of the Old Empire or consumed by dragonfire when Ghis made war against Valyria. Once the trees had gone, the soil baked beneath the hot sun and blew away in thick red clouds. "It was these calamities that transformed my people into slavers," Galazza Galare had told her, at the Temple of the Graces. And I am the calamity that will change these slavers back into people, Dany had sworn to herself." -Daenerys III, ADWD

"Where were these cedars? Drowned four hundred years ago, it seemed." -THe Iron Suitor, ADWD

"On the day the Doom came to Valyria, it was said, a wall of water three hundred feet high had descended on the island, drowning hundreds of thousands of men, women, and children, leaving none to tell the tale but some fisherfolk who had been at sea and a handful of Velosi spearmen posted in a stout stone tower on the island's highest hill, who had seen the hills and valleys beneath them turn into a raging sea. Fair Velos with its palaces of cedar and pink marble had vanished in a heartbeat. On the north end of the island, the ancient brick walls and stepped pyramids of the slaver port Ghozai had suffered the same fate." -THe Iron Suitor, ADWD

from these quotes we get a story of valyrians destroying cedars (directly or indirectly).  In slaver's bay, the desertification resulting from the cedar's destruction creates the economic conditions that forces the three sister cities to start trading in slaves.  Most valyrian actions fall into the pattern of the BLoodstone Emperor, that is to say, behavior that starts a Long Night (symbolically).  

Linking the Slavers to the Others:

aside from the obvious fact that the Others are slavers, enthralling their victims bodies and minds to wage their war (i believe the wights are conscious, but thats another story) theres a lot of stuff linking meereenese culture specifically to the faith of the seven and other Other symbols, mostly through color symbology.  if you're not familiar with the new gods' links to the Others, for now just think about how the rainbow of the seven is contained in White.

meereen is constructed of bricks of every color.

"she and her lord husband passed beneeth the bronzes, to emerge at the top of a great brick bowl ringed by descending tiers of benches, each a different color. Hizdahr zo Loraq led her down, through black, purple, blue, green, white yellow, and orange to the red, where the scarlet bricks took the color of the sands below. ...Across the pit the Graces sat in flowing robes of many colors, clustered around the austere figure of Galazza Galare, who alone amongst them wore the green.  The Great Masters of Meereen occupied the red and orange benches. The women were veiled, and the men had brushed and lacquered their hair into horns and hands and spikes. Hizdahr's kin of the ancient line of Loraq seemed to favor tokars of purple and indigo and lilac, whilst those of Pahl were striped in pink and white.  ... The black and purple benches, highest and most distant from the sand, were crowded with freedmen and other common folk." -Daenerys IX, ADWD

the graces wear rainbow colors (while their leader alone wears green...) Loraq wear indigo and other purples.  indigo is a relatively rare color in asoiaf, most notable in the House of the Undying, who are symbols of the Others. (other things it describes are the strangler crystals, twilit skies, rhaegar's eyes, and the Mallister sigil.) Pahl wear Other colors.  contrast to the freed and common people sitting in the black (and purple, so this isnt perfect) benches.

and from the dany III quote above, "I am the calamity that will change these slavers back into people, Dany had sworn to herself." Dany will presumably be one of the heros to fight against the Others, and put them to rest.

what it means:

Together with the history about cedars, the story i get from this is: Valyrians destroy trees and Slavers (Others) are born from the resulting desert (cold dead lands).  this to me is strong evidence for the theory that Azor Ahai/the Bloodstone Emperor invaded the Weirwoods through killing Nissa Nissa in blood sacrifice to open them up, forcing out the spirit of the trees, who become Others, and starting the Long Night.  the bit about "Once the trees had gone, the soil baked beneath the hot sun and blew away in thick red clouds" reinforces this in my mind.  the balance provided by the trees has been destroyed, and thick red clouds appear after the soil gets blasted by the fire of the sun. if the moon meteor theory is right, this is the same thing as the balance provided by the fire moon being destroyed, and meteors that drank the fire of the sun raining down and throwing up huge clouds of debris.  another symbol for the fire moon cataclysm, the doom of valyria, sends a tsunami to destroy the isle of cedars. same story.  meteors cause tidal waves when they drop in the ocean.

the long night is caused by the destruction of the moon, which is also Azor Ahai trying to obtain greater power by usurping the moon's power, and Nissa Nissa the Amethyst Empress's power.  (consider the idea that all valyrian steel swords are made from the fire moon meteors, just as the sword Dawn is made from a pale falling star, which means superior weapons for your army.)  In similar fashion, the Others are caused by the invasion of the weirwood net, which is Azor Ahai trying to obtain the gods’ power by usurping the power of the trees.

the Cedar Forest in the Epic of Gilgamesh also seems to echo this story, but im not super knowledgeable about it, so ill only briefly talk about those links.  Gilgamesh and Azor Ahai both try to invade a forest to steal the trees for themselves.  Gilgamesh must fight and kill Humbaba, the demon guardian of the forest (who wears seven layers of armor), in order to get away with this.  Azor Ahai must conquer and force out the Others.  After Gilgamesh succeeds, he spurns the goddess Ishtar.  Ishtar then begs her father to use the bull of heaven (taurus) to destroy Gilgamesh and his city, threatening to open the gates of hell, letting the dead out to roam the earth and eat the living.  Sounds like some Other shit to me.  Taurus also holds the Pleiades, which LML has identified as the Faith's seven pointed star and the seven stars given to Hugor of the Hill.  the bull of heaven makes craters in the earth with its breath.  Bulls are also symbols for the moon in greek myth, so to me this sounds like both came true in asoiaf.  the moon wreaks havoc on planetos and Azor Ahai's city Asshai creating lots of craters, and also the gates of hell are opened by the Others.  all because Gilgamesh and Azor Ahai were total assholes, though theyre remembered as heros.

Gilgamesh also has dreams before entering the Cedar Forest, one of the bull of heaven and another where "The skies roared with thunder and the earth heaved, Then came darkness and a stillness like death. Lightning smashed the ground and fires blazed out; Death flooded from the skies. When the heat died and the fires went out, The plains had turned to ash.”  however  both of these are interpreted to mean that gilgamesh will succeed.  mhm.  succeed in starting the long night by causing a firestorm of space rocks.

as a sidenote, there are only 11 times cedar chests are mentioned in asoiaf.  i have a few thoughts about them.

THings in cedar chests:

men's clothes- -ned's light linen undertunic -renly's clothing -boy's clothing for tyrion from illyrio (inlaid with lapis and mother-of-pearl)

women's clothes- -the hound's white kingsguard cloak, blood and smoke stained, hidden under sansa's summer silks -wool and linen clothing for sansa given by littlefinger on the ship from KL -arianne's clothes when she's locked in a tower, she refuses to dress like a 'child' -ramsay's quilted doublet and well worn breeches stolen for jeyne to wear for her escape

misc- -dany's dragon eggs, given by illyrio -yunkish gold, a gift to dany so she wont attack yunkai (bound in bronze and gold) -a dwarf's head, given to cersei (inlaid with ivory in a pattern of vines and flowers, with hinges and clasps of white gold) -the 3 pickled heads of dany's envoys to mantarys

they are decorated in lapis, mother-of-pearl, bronze, gold, ivory, and white gold- all ice symbols ('hands of gold are always cold').

the women's clothes are what im most sure about- theyre all given by men to women, more specifically by solar figures to lunar figures.  Sansa gets Sandor's cloak which she then dyes green and wears as she escapes King's landing. Sansa then recieves more clothes from Littlefinger, primo evil Azor Ahai figure. this is all in the context of her journey from fire to ice as it were, from kings landing to the eyrie and from Sansa the fire maiden to Alayne the ice queen, which has been theorized to echo the story of Nissa Nissa entering the weirwoods. Jeyne pool gets clothes stolen from Ramsay.  Arianne gets her own clothes, but given by Doran for her imprisonment.  To me this all reinforces the idea of Azor Ahai dressing Nissa Nissa in the Weirwoods. another detail is that Arianne chooses to dress in her most revealing clothes, saying "Prince Doran might treat her like a child, but she refused to dress like one."  if Nissa Nissa was a child of the forest, or had blood of the cotf, this makes a lot of sense.  Azor Ahai treating a lunar figure like a child of the forest means using her greenseer blood to open the weirwoods to himself. Similarly, Tyrion, an Azor Ahai figure, gets a child's clothes from a cedar chest, i.e. Azor Ahai becomes a greenseer.

as for the others, im not as sure. dany's eggs being inside cedar/weirwoods seems to show simply that dragon people like Azor Ahai, or Azor Ahai and Nissa Nissa's children are in the trees or became greenseers, but the would be Tyrion's head and the envoys' heads arent as clear to me.  Ned and Renly also are clothed in weirwoods apparently which doesnt seem that symbolically far fetched. Neds a Stark and Renly dies and is reborn, and also has green armor that tells you your future if you peer into it (but only if youre Catelyn).

[aliferous-ly]

For When There’s Nothing Left To Do: Chapter Four

Chapter Summary: Virgil leaves, and there are a few consequences of his actions. Meanwhile, Damian fumes (or, contemplates, depending on who’s asked). 

Pairings: eventual LAMP, chapter contains moxiety 

Warnings: leaving, swearing, deceit, manipulation, verbal manipulation, ghibli tears, knives

Read on AO3

One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight | Nine

Virgil hated himself.

He also clambered through the woods, following the trail of broken branches.

You’re HORRIBLE you’re awful you abandoned him in the woods he’s all alone and hurting and you LEFT.

A nasty seed sprouted in Virgil’s heart and he pushed at his chest, kneading and massaging, hoping the pain would dull. The disgusted growth of vines and thorns spread through his body, circling his organs and bones, tightening and strangling...

Logan needed him. Logan was alone, Logan was in pain, Logan needed words of affirmation and words of love and words of you matter, you haven’t disappeared–

But Virgil left. Three days, three days of suppressed giggles and brushing hands, of Logan teaching him how to knead dough and Virgil teaching him a game with cards. Their childhood reignited, and Virgil had felt a calm like no other wash over him.

But he left. He left in the middle of the night, moving from Logan’s arms to write a note and gather his belongings and leave, walking out the door like it was the easiest action in the world, through the forest.

Bright, inhuman eyes followed his movements and Virgil nearly keeled over in regret.

“It’s fine it’s fine it’s fine,” Virgil chanted under his breath, climbing over a fallen tree. “It’s fine it’s fine it’s–” his bare forearm brushed against a leaf and it exploded, Virgil yelping in fear and losing his balance.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” Logan had said. “I’ve been alone for so long I forgot how it felt to be happy...”

Virgil cried, brushing at his cheeks and forcing himself to his feet. “It’s fine it’s fine...”

Virgil was making them tea. He took his glove off to feel the temperature of the water, expecting it to become perfect or to simply do nothing – as his magic was fickle, but it never did anything he didn’t want it to.

The water froze instantly, cracking the mug from the expansion, and icy fear swept through his veins.

“Find the town, Roman said there was a town nearby,” Virgil said, panting and shaking.

“Who are you talking to?”

Virgil shrieked but managed to keep his balance.

A creature the size of a beaver perched on a branch far above his head. They had luminescent skin and the front of a feline with a monkey-like face. Past their midsection their body turned into a tail, moving hypnotically through the air, their entire body glowing a soft green-blue color.

“Who are – what are–” Virgil sputtered, bringing his hands up in case he needed to guard his chest or neck.

“I am G.” They shook their shoulders, a thin gauze floating out from their neck. “I protect L.”

Logan.

“He didn’t – he didn’t mention you,” Virgil said, which. Probably was not the smartest thing in that moment.

“L does not know about me,” G stated. “I am the invisible protector. Because of L, this forest has gained meaning again.”

“Uh...” Virgil rubbed his eyes, wondering if he was hallucinating.

“And you gave L meaning again,” G said. “V.”

“What the hell,” Virgil whispered.

“V, why do you run?”

“Get away from me,” Virgil said flatly, starting to walk away. The broken trees and grooves in the ground had already set him on edge thinking of the wyrm, and now this... thing was talking to him.

He made it past two fallen trees when he noticed G floating behind him, quiet and pensive. Virgil turned around and they perched on another branch with their two front paws, this time level with his eyes.

The iris of their eyes seemed to swirl with galaxies, pale green and deep purple mixing in unison.

G didn’t ask again but Virgil knew what they wished to hear.

“How do you know my name?” Virgil asked instead. “Well, the first letter, anyway.”

“V is not your name,” G stated. “V is a bastardization of your name.”

Virgil sighed, a headache starting between his ears. “What is my name, then?”

They opened their mouth and let out an inhuman mixture of squeaks and slides, and Virgil regretted asking.

“What are you?” Virgil asked, again avoiding the answer G wanted.

“I am the spirit of the forest, eternal and void, and protector of L.”

“Oh, my god.”

“Answer,” G said, their voice soft but demanding, a small shimmer of green-blue escaping their mouth.

Why do you run?

“I can’t hurt him, alright?” Virgil snapped, throwing his hands in the air. “God! Are you happy? I can’t hurt him! He doesn’t deserve that!”

“Human,” G said, formerly airy voice hard as steel and colder, too. “You coward.”

“Don’t fucking say that,” Virgil said, words darkening with anger. “I am protecting him. You think I want to leave? You think I want to leave the three best days of my life? You don’t know anything.”

“On the contrary,” G said. They didn’t elaborate and Virgil let out an irritated noise from the back of his throat, continuing his trek through the forest.

His fingers brushed against a pencil, and the pencil crumbled into ash.

Virgil lost his breath. He hadn’t activated his magic. He’d just been holding it...

“Protecting,” Virgil repeated under his breath. His feet jerked, fury remaining from his conversation.

G followed him. “Human, human,” G called.

“Leave me ALONE!” Virgil screeched, voice cracking. “I can’t! I can’t die and I can’t live, my box is missing, my magic is haywire, and I’m a danger! To everything! Around me!”

G stared at him, unblinking. “You coward.”

Virgil yelled and threw a rock at G, sparkling with magic. G vanished into thin air before the rock hit its mark.

Virgil pushed at his cheeks, fresh tears making tracks down his face, and forged on.

The rock hit the ground and sparked for a second before lying, dormant.

—

Patton had no question as to how Roman managed to woo a prince.

And that was how he referred to his former companion, the prince, never by name. Patton wondered if it were a statement of pride – “I personally know a prince!” – or a matter of privacy – “nobody can know his name because I respect him.”

Based on the content of Roman’s speeches, he assumed it was the latter.

Either way, simply watching Roman talk was enough for Patton. Roman used his whole body to talk, gesturing and pacing even, sometimes. His voice, full and deep, sounded melodic to Patton’s ears, and he could listen to Roman all day.

And Patton sent him away at dusk, as he should have, saying a silent goodbye and watching his silhouette disappear into the inn. Night fell, and Patton… well.

But then he came back.

And he stayed.

Patton hummed happily to himself, meticulously working through some embroidery. He’d taken it up a few years ago but hadn’t managed to maintain his former motivation.

Roman gave him his motivation back, and Patton thought he’d give Roman his little handkerchief with small forget-me-nots scattered on the corner, small green vines forming a delicate border.

Once he was done, of course.

A loud bang pounded through the church and Patton startled, the needle pricking his finger. Patton frowned at the small spot of blood, the tiny prick glowing green before disappearing altogether.

Then he focused his attention to the front of the church, his fake smile already plastered on his face as he prepared to address the newcomer–

The smile fell off his face like water off a duck’s back, all the blood fleeing from his face. His skin felt tingly, like he was moments away from being in danger of fainting. His vision tunneled for a few scary seconds, white spots blinking like he’d stared at the sun for too long.

“Damian,” Patton said hoarsely, scrambling to his feet and twisting his limbs awkwardly, like he’d forgotten how to move.

“Patton,” Damian said, his normally smooth-as-silk voice harsh and low, a scratching sound that grated against Patton’s ears. “Been a while, huh?”

“No,” Patton said lowly, shaking and trembling. “No, no no no no nonono…”

“Really, Patton, it’s almost like you don’t like me,” Damian said, voice betraying the underlying truth in his words. Patton hated this, he hated listening to Damian and trying to decipher his words and figure out which were lies, which were truths, which were some gray space in between.

“Get away from me,” Patton forced out, his throat threatening to close completely. “Get – get away.”

“I need to talk to you first,” Damian said, approaching Patton.

“STOP!” Patton held his hand out and stumbled backwards. “I– I don’t want you here, leave me alone!”

“The thing is, Patton,” Damian said slowly, meticulously. “What you want doesn’t matter, eh? You need to do something for me, and you listen, correct?”

Patton viciously shook his head and Damian grabbed onto his wrist, squeezing tightly – a heavy contrast to Roman’s light, caring touch. Panic shot through Patton’s veins and he tried to wrench his hand away, but Damian’s grip was like steel.

“P-please, please let go,” Patton said, his voice started to devolve into sputtering. “I d-don’t–”

“You will listen to me,” Damian said, words like a bear trap. His eyes started glowing a soft gold. “Don’t forget the power I hold over you.”

Various sputters fell from Patton’s lips, indiscernible.

“You will listen, correct?”

“Correct,” Patton said, voice inflicted and doubled for a split second. His hand shot to cover his mouth, tears springing in his eyes helplessly. No no no nononononono–

Damian’s eyes were alight and Patton hated the entire situation, his own eyes wide and fearful. I can’t go through this again, I can’t listen to him again, I have no power I’m weak and everything I do…

“You must bring Roman here,” Damian said. Something broke within Patton, his own little crack. “And you are going to tell him to leave and never come back.”

“You’re wonderful, Patton. You are yourself, simply intensified and overwhelmed. The townspeople don’t see it. But you’re wonderful and your magic does not warrant quarantine.”

A seed of strength and resolve sprouted in Patton’s chest. No. No. He wouldn’t listen to Damian. Not now, not ever.

Patton pushed through and pushed past Damian, falling onto his hands while trying to sprint away, away, away.

Damian shouted and reached around, grasping for Patton, but he slipped out of Damian’s fingers and started crying, large tears dripping down his cheeks. A loud sob tore from his throat and Patton scrambled forwards, the cold church floor slipping under his nails.

Somehow, Patton avoided Damian’s grasping fingers and bolted out the door with nothing but the clothes on his back and leftover thread in his pocket.

A yell sounded from inside the church but Patton wasn’t going back, he wasn’t turning around. All he could do was sprint towards the woods and hope, just hope, that Damian wasn’t following him.

Because Damian wouldn’t be able to use him this time. He wouldn't.

Patton wouldn’t let him.

—

I’m sorry.

Logan trembled, the paper crumpling between his fingers, thick creases cutting through words. Staring at his window, through the glass, into the dense forest.

His legs gave out beneath him and he collapsed to the floor, shoulders shaking. I’m sorry.

Logan touched his face, veins frozen and water streaking down his cheeks. His carefully constructed dam of emotions cracked.

I’m sorry.

A choked noise jumped from Logan’s throat. The house started to shake.

—

G’s words affected him more than he wanted them to.

Virgil didn’t stop thinking about Logan during his entire trip, which ended up... well, it seemed to be lasting longer than it should. He swore he’d reach the town by now, he hadn’t gotten that far off course when escaping the wyrm.

Dear Logan, by this time you must have realized I’m gone.

Virgil walked around a particularly large tree, taking a moment to feel the roughness of the bark when it started crumbling to ash underneath his fingertips. Alarmed, Virgil drew back. His left glove had turned into liquid an hour ago or so and Virgil didn’t want to touch his extras in case they disappeared, too.

It’s come to my attention that I am a danger to everyone around me.

Virgil came to a stream and stared at it. The storm a few days ago must have been larger than he thought, because the water swelled along the banks and rushed over rocks. The earlier concern about being lost came back full force, squeezing around his lungs and pounding on his head.

After the third broken cup – which I didn’t drop, by the way – I knew something had to be done.

He bit his lip and slowly approached the stream, removing his right glove as he went. The water was ice-cold to the touch, and Virgil plunged both hands into the water until they were submerged.

I can’t endanger you. You mean too much to me for that.

Virgil infused magic into his hands and pulsed. Large sparks flickered from his fingers and a much larger amount of magic than he intended expelled from his palms. The water turned into sand at least ten feet both ways from where Virgil sat. Not waiting another second, Virgil scurried across the stretch of sand before the backlog of water upstream overtook him.

I’m sorry. I know what I did is unforgivable, and I’m not asking for forgiveness, I don’t deserve that…

Something crashed through the trees and Virgil swung behind a large trunk, breathing heavily and peeking out behind the wood. A sniffle, then silence. The hairs on Virgil’s arms raised. Something wasn’t right.

I’m sorry. From Love –Virgil

“Is... is somebody there?”

Virgil startled and pressed his back to the rough bark, hoping and praying whoever had spoken would leave.

“Hey, I’m… I’m sorry for scaring you,” the voice called out again. Ferns rustled nearby Virgil’s tree and liquid terror shot through Virgil’s veins. He started shaking, goosebumps covering his skin.

“Please, I don’t mean any harm.” Their voice sounded not five feet from Virgil’s tree and he swallowed thickly, shrinking down and wrapping his arms around his knees.

“My name is Patton,” they said softly. They sounded nice enough, but Virgil had long learned to never trust anyone, no matter how kind they appeared.

(Maybe… maybe he’d made one exception for Logan. But Logan was a hermit, and he’d started crying within an hour of Virgil waking up, and he was basically Virgil’s longest friend, so he didn’t count.)

“Patton” appeared in his line of vision but Virgil stayed quiet, trying to sink into the tree or maybe under the earth and never come back up.

“Please,” Patton said, voice cracking, worn. “I want – proof, I want to know if Roman was right and I – is someone there?”

Virgil paused. Roman... how many people named Roman were there?

Did that mean Roman was alive?

Hope threatened to overtake his being and Virgil swallowed thickly, pushing the tentative hope deep down, unwilling to set himself up for failure.

“Oh,” Patton said, and Virgil looked up. Their eyes locked.

Virgil’s eyes widened and he scrambled to his feet, ready to bolt.

“No, please, don’t!” Patton pleaded, stumbling forward. “I’m all alone and I don’t know what to do! Please don’t leave!”

“Why shouldn’t I?” Virgil said. The words came out rough and low.

“I’ll heal you!” Patton said, tripping over his words. “I’ll – I’ll help you in any way I can, maybe, I just...”

Virgil stared at him, eyes unreadable. He wanted to know about Roman but he definitely could not say so outright. “You mentioned someone else before, why don’t you go back to them?”

“Roman?” Patton said, expression changing drastically into surprise. The mere mention of the name had Patton straightening his spine, confidence seeping into his tone. “He’s a friend, I... left him in the village when I ran, but I can’t go back...” Patton frowned. “I wish I could’ve talked to him more... he said he was looking for a prince. No, his prince,” Patton clarified, a finger tapping against his chin.

Virgil’s face flushed and he looked away so Patton couldn’t see. “Sounds flighty.”

“He’s wonderful, you see,” Patton said. “I’ve never had anyone help me before, and the way he spoke... he said I deserved love, like anyone else.”

Virgil blinked. What the hell? “What the hell?”

“Y... yeah! Roman said I deserved love, and I deserved friendship, and I deserved all those other things most people get, even though...”

Virgil’s veins froze. “Even though...?”

“Even though... uh... I have... emotional... issues.”

That was a stretch of truth if he’d ever seen one, but Virgil couldn’t find any reason not to trust Patton, other than the fact that he was a complete stranger.

“Alright, Patton, what do you want?” Virgil said flatly.

“Sorry?” Patton asked.

“You said you didn’t want me to leave. I’m not leaving at this moment. What do you want?”

“I want...” Patton said. “I want to find something. Something valuable to me.”

“And what’s that?” Virgil asked, examining his fingernails.

“A knife.”

Virgil choked on his own spit. “Sorry, what?”

“It’s a knife,” Patton said, spreading his hands out to show the length. “Has engravings on it. One for health. Have you seen it?”

Virgil stumbled backwards, mouth agape as images flashed before his eyes. One for health. He pressed a palm to the rough bark of a tree. Two for strength. Patton made a soft sound of alarm, reaching towards him. Three for aid. The bark started smoothing out under his fingers. And four for when there’s nothing left to do.

The tree solidified into a perfect cylinder of metal, the leaves glinting iridescent green.

“You have a knife,” Virgil said. His voice sounded hollow, even to his own ears, which were pounding. “You have one of the knives. I never thought I’d...”

“You have one too,” Patton guessed, lightly touching the cold metal. “You’re one of us.”

“I don’t have a knife,” Virgil said. “Well. I have a box.”

Patton stared at him.

Virgil stared back.

“And with Roman...”

“What about Roman?” Virgil asked, harsh and scorching, too passionate to be for some stranger.

“Do you... do you know him?” Patton asked, voice small.

“He’s.... I’m...” Virgil weighed his options. “The prince. The prince he was talking about? That’s... that’s me.”

“The prince,” Patton repeated, dumbfounded. “You’re the prince. You’re the prince! Oh my goodness, now we really need to find him – Oh, oh, should I bow? I’ve never met a prince before, I don’t know how to–”

“Don’t,” Virgil said. “Don’t treat me like a prince. Just treat me like a random stranger.”

“Okay...” Patton said, trailing off.

He fidgeted, waiting for Virgil to say something. When Virgil remained quiet, he continued.

“That means...” Patton said. “We have three of the four items. Or we know three holders of the four holders.”

“Three?” Virgil said. “There’s only two of us here.”

Patton’s expression twisted into something horribly sad, eyes woeful as he gazed at Virgil. His voice was hushed as he said, “he didn’t tell you?”

A slow realization swept through Virgil but he asked, he had to ask to make sure... “Who?”

“Roman,” Patton said, unknowingly taking Virgil’s world and squeezing it like a lemon. “Two for strength. That’s Roman.”

“Then we have...” Virgil tried to start, mouth dry. “We have one for health, two for strength, and three for aid.”

“What?” Patton said. His eyebrows furrowed, shoulders relaxing as he fiddled with his hands.

“You didn’t know?” Virgil asked.

“Know what?”

“The final blade,” Virgil said carefully, avoiding Patton’s eyes. “You don’t need it to open the box.”

“What?”

“The first two, yeah,” Virgil said hurriedly. “Yours and... and Roman’s, I’m guessing, and then mine, of course, as the box that needs to be opened, but the stone can be taken with just those three.”

“Then what’s the fourth... or the third knife for?” Patton asked.

“That?” Virgil clenched and unclenched his hand. “That activates it.”

“For when there’s nothing left to do,” Patton whispered. “Oh my god.”

Virgil paused at his horrified tone. “...what is it?”

“I’m starting to think our knives didn’t disappear,” Patton said. “I think they were stolen.”

Virgil saw himself opening a drawer and finding it bare, he felt the terror and loss, he felt his magic start to go haywire and malfunction...

“Patton,” Virgil started. “We need to find Roman.”

“He’s back at town,” Patton said. “I’m sorry, I can’t... I can’t go back there.”

“It’s okay, Patton, I’ll be there, I can protect you–”

“It’s not about protection!” Patton said, both loud and quiet, shoulders hunched. “I can’t... I can’t... they threw me in a church, and treated me like... like an item or something, something to be maintained and dealt with...” Patton took a deep breath, closing his eyes and inhaling slowly. “I’m not going back. I ran for a reason.”

“Okay,” Virgil conceded. “We won’t go back to town.”

Then what was their next move? Virgil didn’t know whether he should break off from Patton and find Roman himself, then find Patton after... but that sounded like too much in the hands of fate, and Virgil didn’t want to lose Patton just after they’d found each other...

“We could go to the hermit,” Patton said quietly. “He might know who stole them. And if not, I could stay with him while you find Roman... because I want to help, I just...”

“It’s okay, Patton,” Virgil said. “I understand. Don’t worry about it.”

Patton stared at nothing for a few long seconds. “What should we do?”

“I like your idea,” Virgil said, not mentioning his own lack of ideas. “We can go to this... hermit, and go from there.”

“Alright,” Patton said, taking a deep breath. He turned to Virgil with a grin, conflict alight in his eyes, and said, “Let’s go see Logan.”

Virgil froze.

His heart beating in his ears, Virgil turned his startled gaze towards Patton.

“Logan?”

—

Damian rubbed his chin and frowned at the pain pulsating from his skin there. He certainly hadn’t expected that response from Patton. Perhaps he’d... miscalculated Patton’s change from interacting with Roman.

Patton was gone, either way. Which shouldn’t really matter, in the long run, except that Damian wasn’t stupid and he knew that the holders would be attracted to one another – like magnets, by some instinct or fate, Damian didn’t really care.

But he knew that once two met, they would find each other in a domino effect. Rapidly. Seeing as how Patton and Roman had hit it off instantly, despite Damian’s best efforts... only proved to show there were some forces Damian couldn’t control.

Which, goddammit. Damian liked controlling things.

But again, it didn’t matter. Patton didn’t have his knife regardless, and Damian had three of four pieces.

But where the hell was the final blade?

Damian shook the map and growled, peering at the enchanted paper. The knife symbol flashed spastically all over the map, fluctuating and never staying in one place for more than a split second.

It didn’t make any damn sense.

He’d stolen the box from the prince, for god’s sake, Damian was willing to go through just about anything for this. He taken a knife from under the nose of a knight (in training), he’d snatched a blade from Patton, possessive as he was. Damian knew he needed the last one for... something. Something.

He couldn’t find it.

And damn if that didn’t irritate him.

But, it didn’t matter. He noticed the box only had two slots for keys, so he didn’t need the third knife, anyhow. Maybe the third knife was only a failsafe.

...He didn’t really believe that, but thinking it helped. Damian knew, better than anyone, that lying to yourself was easier than telling the truth.

Either way... he had to leave, before all four of them found each other. He had to go back to the tower, regardless of the final knife. Time was running out.

He had to save Thomas.

[ganymedesclock]

Hey in s1e1 Allura compares each of the pilots to the lions. I don't really remeber what they were something like Hunks caring personality, Pidge's inquisitive nature etc but Allura was cut off before revealing Lance and Blue's (by Lance lol) and I've always wondered what theirs was. Maybe u have a good idea cause ur really good and putting 2 and 2 together and finding X. Hope this makes sense.

Official interviews with the writers have stated Blue’s nature is compassion! She’s a nurturing presence described as the “mother hen” of the Lions. This makes a lot of sense because you can see Lance doing this a lot- like in s3e6, when he takes up a sniper nest, he checks on his teammates and watches them to see if and how they need help. Also in s3e3 Lance is the most aggressive and outspoken about how the team needs to stick together and helping them reunite.

This also is reflected a lot in how Blue relates to Allura in s3e3- she doesn’t respond to being ordered or commanded by Allura but instead responds very powerfully to Allura expressing vulnerability and asking for help- and basically the lesson she imparts to Allura is it’s okay to not control everything, other people are here to help you.

Throughout the show, Blue and Lance have repeated themes to their arc and interactions. There’s a sense of trusting situations- Lance often unlocks powers or discovers properties by just going into situations and sorta trusting it’ll work out and being mostly vindicated. The first thing Blue does is run wild and hurtle around at terrifying speeds and Lance noticeably isn’t scared that the Lion is out of his control, just caught off-guard at first. Anybody else in his situation would panic- think about how Shiro reacted when Black was moving without him in s2e7.

Allura begins her speech with “As you have found, the Lions choose their pilots” confirming that Blue had already selected Lance as her chosen paladin.

She continues, “The quintessence of the pilot is mirrored in his Lion.”

So simply enough, we can tell something about the Lions by the paladins they first approached- the Lions seek people who are mirrors of themselves. 

Ergo, Blue was drawn to Lance by being able to see his empathy and compassion as a person- the same kind of spirit that drew him to defend Pidge. He has that sort of empathetic, emotionally wise and supportive nature- as well as a certain openness to things working out. I think it’s significant that Lance got his Lion first- because Lance is the sort of person who would take Blue at face value.

Walking into the mouth of a giant robotic predator and plunking himself in the seat just because she’s indicating for him to do so, because it feels right, because he lets Blue into his heart and mind without hesitation or fear- Lance is opening himself wide up because to connect to anything, he connects emotionally. 

This is nicely embodied in that Blue’s element is water. Water is often seen as an embodiment of the emotional world and the subconscious. I’ve said this before but while all of the paladins have emotional conflicts, Lance is the one who knows the most about his and will often be seen taking initiative and discussing them quickly, rather than waiting to explode.

Onto the other Lions... Allura describes Black, first:

The Black Lion is the decisive head of Voltron. It will take a pilot who is a born leader and in control at all times, someone whose men will follow without hesitation. That is why Shiro, you will pilot the Black Lion.

The first adjective given to Black is decisive. The reasoning and decision-making head, which on a human body is the nexus of sensory information and the seat of the nervous system. Understand, take in information as fed by the limbs and act on it.

“In control at all times”, however, tells us that this is not just the cozy seat of the commander. The Black Lion is a heavy burden. You have to consider what control tends to mean for Shiro, someone who is keenly contextualized by trauma, imprisonment, and the anxiety disorder that sprung from it.

“In control” means staying ahead of mental demons. It means having autonomy over his own life and mind, things that the empire is all too eager to take away from him.

From the start, Black evokes this concept of the heavy crown- royalty in the purest sense, a leader who even bereft of regalia or title is seen and known as a king. A person crowned simply because they are charismatic, wise, and assertive- someone people reflexively look to for leadership. And also, a heavily burdened, weighted individual.

Black is represented by space- the sky at its most unbounded, the most liberating. When all Lions are empowered by their element, Black commands the greatest domain, and their massive scarlet wings are a promise of ruling that domain, of soaring through it. That’s a potent promise to make to an ex-prisoner.

But at the same time, space is also the sky at its most transient- space is a vacuum. The seat of Black’s power, this infinite kingdom, is also nothingness. It cannot be held in the hand, it cannot be touched.

Black is thematically associated with the juxtaposition of opposites. The imagery of an eclipse, and teleportation abilities that allow the user to be both present and absent- there and not, disappearing but asserting themselves.

“In control” of the Black Lion is to walk a tightrope act between power and mercy, fear and certainty. It is to command, but to also surrender oneself to trust. Shiro out of the team is the one most often confronted by a sense of helplessness.

So what sums up the Black Paladin? A mind under heavy pressure. That’s a hell of a challenge, and this is why we can see that the Black Paladin mentality can break, can fall off the tightrope in so many ways. Zarkon fell off the tightrope one way- arrogance, refusal to heed the warnings of his senses, disconnect from the limbs, leadership turned into tyranny. And in s3 and s4, Shiro falls off a different way- lack of self-worth, guilt, internalizing, trying to hand the burden to someone else because he assumes he’s no longer worthy of the throne.

But we’re not giving up on Shiro just yet- and he has the potential to rise above the situation.

The Green Lion has an inquisitive personality, and needs a pilot of intellect and daring. Pidge, you will pilot the Green Lion.

Curiosity is the defining trait of the Green Lion. A desire to know, a desire to investigate. I think that this can sometimes lend an overly benign image to Green, that people read her as fundamentally childish, “ooh, what’s this?” but there’s something else here, and something that’s illustrated big time in s2e4.

Green is represented by nature and plant life, but also technology. When Pidge deepens her bond with Green, we’re treated to an image of roots growing upwards and transforming into circuitry.

Simply, Green represents the concept of evolution. Grow, change, and become something entirely new- radically recreate your identity to thrive in an environment previously hostile to you. Quite apt for Pidge who created a new identity to find her family.

But that comes back to the concept of “daring”. If Green was just an overexcited investigative toddler then you wouldn’t need to be ‘daring’- daring suggests boldness, a certain degree of assertion in the face of problems. Which makes sense- it takes some serious determination to try and grow where you’re not welcome. Curiosity, for Green, comes with a spirit of relentlessness- it’s the tenacity with which a forest retakes the four-lane highway cut through it, pothole by pothole, weed by weed.

It’s the willpower required to fight your way through setbacks, failed harvests, and to exploit a mind that naturally thinks outside of the box against situations that are unkind. Interviews have also stated the Green Lion is not a destructive creature by nature- Green would rather find a way to open the puzzle box than take a hammer to it. Which also reflects well Pidge’s propensity for stealthy, technical fighting.

The Yellow Lion is caring and kind. Its pilot is one who puts the needs of others above his own. His heart must be mighty. As the leg of Voltron, you will lift the team up and hold them together.

This gives us a bit of insight into legs in general, which is needed since Lance just set himself up to be skipped, but it tells us some interesting things about the Yellow Lion.

Taken alone, this summary sounds very sacrificial, that the Yellow Lion runs himself ragged to protect others. But this is contextualized very differently when we see the Yellow Lion himself.

Yellow is an armored juggernaut commanding the greatest defensive armaments and a body that can smash directly through most adversaries. He’s the quintessential defensive force on Voltron, the most fortified Lion- set diagonally across from Red, the quintessential offensive force and least defensive Lion.

Yellow’s relationship with his allies is that he is a shield and a foundation to others- he’s the leg that anchors Voltron to the earth below them and, in the manner of Atlas, takes the world onto his shoulders. Yellow’s burden is heavy, but Allura emphasizes that “his heart must be mighty”- the role of Yellow Paladin is gifted to those who are built for this, who have the strength and force of will.

And again, this sometimes creates more of a benign image than what we see in practice. The Yellow Lion is forceful and assured. In contrast to Blue, who presides over the realm of the emotions, Yellow rules the very material and practical realm- and he is particularly concerned with threats. He makes a shield of his own flesh to deny enemies access to his allies, but he also won’t sit there passively in the face of those foes- in inclination to take care of his own, the Yellow Lion will level mountains, tear through steel, shatter stone. Strength of will, strength of body, the determination of a protector who says “No, I don’t think so, you aren’t getting at my friends today.”

And, sometimes, slams into said friends hard enough to send them spinning.

The Red Lion is temperamental and the most difficult to master. It’s faster and more agile than the others, but also more unstable. Its pilot needs to be someone who relies more on instinct than skill alone. Keith, you will fly the Red Lion.

At first glance Red- and Keith himself- seem to be arrogant loners. “Temperamental”? Too cool for everybody else?

But this is a false pretense through and through, and the rest of the description warns us about that. “Unstable.” “Relies on instinct.” Red is a glass cannon of a Lion- the greatest damage output, but something he pays for with the greatest fragility.

Again, the more we understand of Keith, what at a glance seems like hotshot confidence, not needing a team, is actually self-sufficiency born out of a lifetime of isolation. The instability and temper of the Red Lion is born from a sense of being wounded- grief, loss, and isolation. Red is needy, loyal, and the most aggressively responsive to his paladin in danger. In s2e6, Allura tells us that Red wasn’t like this before- the Lions never did this before.

Red’s prior paladin, Alfor, was surrounded by people, and largely, happy. His loyalty and commitment to his family as the literal right hand of the paladins was rewarded by a relatively long peacetime, the esteem of his peers, the adoration of his people. Those who were close to Alfor have nothing but good things to say about him. It’s a big deal in the flashback when Zarkon actually argues with Alfor over the rift.

But that happiness crumbled. Alfor died trying to save everyone else from what became of the rift, of Zarkon. In loyalty, he left himself behind as a sacrifice- in duty, he faced Zarkon alone, trying to take responsibility for his commander. The person he trusted.

And Red followed Alfor with bonding to Keith. Keith- the orphan of uncertain history- Keith, not a loner, but lonely. And connecting to Keith, we see Red with newfound anxiety, newfound sense of loss, newfound fear.

At his best, Red affords an insight beyond conventional means. It was Red who was able to reveal to Alfor the nature of Voltron and what their bodies needed to be- the nature of the paladin bond. Red is the oracle of Voltron. Like his combat capabilities, this is a potent advantage.

And yet, like fire, Red is needy. More than the other elements, fire can starve and weaken very easily. It can be destroyed, disrupted, extinguished- or rear up too greatly and destroy others around it. Fire can only thrive, really, with the nurturing graces of the other elements. Wood to feed it, air it can breathe. Water and earth to bank it and stop it from blazing out of control.

[wristwatchjournal]

Hands-On: Artur Akmaev Rise Of The Blue Dragon Watch

Artur Akmaev is a Russian-born watchmaker and engraver who currently lived and works in Los Angeles. Akmaev has worked in the background performing certain tasks for other brands, as well as making a series of on-off timepieces that feature elaborately-designed and decorated dials rich with hand-engraving and painting. Artur Akmaev is now starting to develop a more serious eponymous brand around his work, and today I’d like to show you this one-of-a-kind “Rise Of The Blue Dragon” timepiece that will be the start of a new series of dragon-themed timepieces produced by the Los Angeles artist.

The Rise Of The Blue Dragon watch is part of Akmaev’s artistic exploration of Far East-style dragons mixed with modern fantasy themes. The watch is for sale via an art gallery in Los Angeles known as The Crown Collection. Akmaev specifically wanted to emphasize a range of artistic techniques on the watch dial, as well as emphasize bright colors. In that pursuit, I believe he succeeded. The elaborate dial presentation is rendered in blue, with green, yellow, and pink tones. This is done using a mixture of flame-bluing over metal as well as miniature dial painting. The dial also employs a range of hand-engraved artistic techniques that extend on to the movement as well as to parts of the case (such as the lugs).

Artur Akmaev claims that the Rise Of The Blue Dragon watch is the result of about 180 hours of human effort to assemble and produce. He further claims that his sister, an illustrator, spent an additional 50 hours on the dial proof drawing, which is a larger composition that the dial engraving is based on. In fact, For particular special watches like The Rise Of The Blue Dragon watch, Artur Akmaev offers a print or even the original dial design drawing — a nice added-value to the timepiece kit.

The watch case itself is in steel and 45mm-wide and 12mm-thick. As stated above, hand-engraved decoration has been applied to the watch case lugs. Inside the watch is a base Swiss ETA Unitas 6497 manually wound mechanical movement. These long-standing base movements operate at 18,000 bph (2.5Hz) with a power reserve of about 56 hours. The movement includes central hour and minute hands, as well as a subsidiary seconds dial. For the purposes of The Rise Of The Blue Dragon watch, the seconds hand has been replaced by a small hand-painted and engraved disc with a lotus flower motif on it.

A similar floral design is used on the mainspring barrel, which can be viewed through the sapphire crystal window on the caseback of the watch. Much of the movement bridge is engraved with a series of patterns meant to evoke the sense of dragon scales. The entire composition was designed to be reworked for future timepiece designs. Artur Akmaev is personally interested in further exploring the dragon theme, so the basic dial layout and design of the Rise Of The Blue Dragon will be reused in future watches, but they’ll have their own particular colors and background graphics that will allow them to celebrate different themes. The goal of creating such a dial “template” is to allow Artur Akmaev to produce these artistic watches more efficiently so that they can be sold more affordably.

For the hands, Akmaev handmade them in shapes that evoke the look of dragon wings. Even though the hands are a good length and demonstrate good technique, they struggle to contrast effectively with the ornate dial. This inhibits legibility, but not fatally so. It is also good that Artur Akmaev designed small hour marker points on the dial.

To complement the colorful The Rise Of The Blue Dragon dial, Akmaev has a bespoke strap produced here in the U.S., which is a blue leather base with pink-dyed python-skin “wings” sewn on to the top. Certainly, the strap is a bit on the flashy side (on an otherwise flashy watch), but I think it helps round out the spirited personality of the watch. Dragon-themed watches are by no means rare in the watch space, but what is interesting is how the dragon theme is expressed in so many different ways. I think Artur Akmaev will find more than enough watch enthusiasts interested in the particular way he hand-renders the mythical beasts on these very authentic timepieces.

This particular Artur Akmaev The Rise Of the Blue Dragon watch is available for sale through The Crown Collection in Los Angeles and has a retail price of $17,950 USD. See the Artur Akmaev Instagram channel here.

The post Hands-On: Artur Akmaev Rise Of The Blue Dragon Watch appeared first on Wristwatch Journal.

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[krystinkrebsinteriors]

Find Out What Interior Design Style is Best For You!

There are so many different types of Interior Design styles, it hard to keep up. So I have outlined some of the most common (and some of my favorite) styles to help you narrow down your favorite style! 

Mid-Century

The mid-1900s produced some of the most iconic pieces in modern design. Often referred to as Mid-Century Modern because it derives its influences from the modern art movement that preceded modern design, it is characterized by refined lines, minimalist silhouettes, and natural shapes. Woods, plastics, glossy metals including stainless steel and glass are common materials found in Mid-Century Furniture.

Tip: I would recommend mixing in elements from other design styles to keep your home looking fresh.

  Industrial

Industrial design is popular for decorating lofts and old buildings converted into living spaces, although it can be used for traditional apartments and houses too. What you need for this style is to create an illusion of rough surfaces and materials that suggest an industrial past. The simplest way to show roughness is to leave some walls or surfaces unfinished. Exposed bricks, steel beams or columns, exposed concrete, unfinished wood, and stainless steel work well for this style. In addition to some rough metal elements that will create an industrial atmosphere, you are looking for old industrial-looking objects that are made from steel, metal or wood. These items are preferably worn down or have been salvaged and recycled. Your color palette should steer clear of bright, bold colors; instead you should look for warm, neutral tones to fill your space. Shades and tones of gray work well when mixed with white to add a crisp, clean look.

Tip: Industrial decor ranges from modern rustic with cleaner lines to rugged vintage with elaborate ornamentations. Depending on your tastes, you can opt for a lighter, chic look or a darker, antique design.

  Natural Coastal

Not sure what natural coastal looks like? Think New England beach house and you would be on the right track; unfinished or light color woods, white furnishings, soft linen fabrics, woven-wicker decor. Accents often include found objects from the beach like seashells, glass, jute rope, sailboats, navigational maps, and even rowing oars. This interior design style is based on white or sand colored foundation, with a range of blues as the accent colors.

Tip: Don’t go overboard with any theme. Pick a few keys pieces for each room and let those pieces nod to your style. Your room doesn’t need to scream “Under the Sea!” when you walk in, otherwise it will feel like you are at a theme park.  

  Traditional

Traditional Design covers anything from 1700’s-1900’s and includes many different styles like French Victorian and Baroque, Greek/Roman, Italian Tuscan, American Colonial- all of which reflect classic European decor. Trademarks of this style generally include deep wood tones, architectural details, and elegant furnishings. One of the most important facets of traditional interior design is the silhouettes, also called the lines, of the furnishings. Wing-backed chairs, claw footed tables, and curved furniture pieces are examples of this. Common models for such traditional furniture are pieces attributed to the Queen Anne or Chippendale styles. Antiques are also often integrated into this design style, but many companies sell new pieces that mimic the lines of the old. Dark woods like cherry, maple, and mahogany are typically used in furniture pieces of this style. These are often carved and lacquered to give them a luxurious, elegant feel. Wood floors are also considered a standard for this decor, although tile and carpet are often used as well. Architectural embellishments are widely used in this type of interior design. These can include elaborate moldings, beveled wood paneling, and intricate tile and wood floor patterns. Arches, columns, and built-in cabinetry are also frequent features of this type of design.

 Tip: Traditional Design is all about creating a sense of charm and history through old eclectic pieces. By adding antiques, collectibles, flea market finds, and estate sale items you can develop a vintage atmosphere.

Already have traditional furniture, but want to give it an update? Simply change the fabric to a more modern print or solid, or paint the frame a color- perhaps bright green, or maybe just white, you pick!

  Scandinavian

An off-shoot of the mid-century movement, Scandinavian design was introduced in the 1930’s. Although most people associate it with IKEA, there are a variety of subset looks within Scandinavian design itself. there are two interior design styles that are Scandinavian design: Scandinavian Modern interior design is centered around warm functionality, clean lines, flawless craftsmanship and understated elegance. Whereas Scandinavian Country interior design (Sometimes referred to as Belgian Interior Design to differentiate it from the Modern Scandinavian style) is a mixture gentle contours, playful accent colors, and a balance of engineered and organic materials. Many Scandinavian-styled homes are characterized by the use of earthy muted tones, natural materials and minimal ornamentation.

there are two interior design styles that are Scandinavian design:

 Tip: To stay truly Scandinavian stick with light colored woods, minimal metals, strong lines, and neutral colors.   

  Bohemian

Bohemian decor captures the free spirited, adventurous collector’s lifestyle. It features rich patterns, vibrant colors, and layers of textiles (tapestry, pillows, throws, rugs). The furniture is often handmade or vintage and has a history or story which makes it uniquely personal to whomever possesses it. Often these types of furnishings are ethnic or tribal inspired like Moroccan, Southwestern, or Indian.   

Tip: Look for color-rich textiles, a variety of wood tones, animal hides, and warm metallic accents like gold, copper, or brass.

  Rustic Shabby Chic Farmhouse

This style is known as several styles: Rustic, Shabby Chic, and Farmhouse. It is mainly cabin-inspired, with some traditional French Provence elements mixed in. The furniture is characterized by family heirlooms, flea market finds, DIY projects, folk art, collections, found items and vintage pieces. Often the wood furniture is distressed wood or covered in sanded milk paint to show signs of wear and tear. The fabrics are often neutral color linens and cottons.

Tip: Get some dried lavender bunches and other greeneries and place them in vintage vases to add a little charm and great scent to your home. The rustic shabby chic farmhouse look often features wooden beams and columns as well as hardwood or stone flooring. If you don’t have these elements in your home, it is possible to put up faux beams or columns to achieve the look.

Modern

One of the most important elements in modern interior design is form. Modern design uses geometric shapes, including rigid squares and rectangles along with smooth curves (“clean lines”). Perfect circles and ovals are also common in modern interior design. Walls are minimal and often empty, and colors are usually very neutral with a few pops of color. Art is also usually very large in scale and minimal. The less furniture the better! Think of which furniture can be eliminated without sacrificing comfort and livability. Floors can generally be anything (hardwood, concrete, etc.), but should be completely clean with one rug to add color and create a focal point for the room. Modern Design is all about spare and streamlined while still being inviting, so the less clutter to wade through and mentally process, the more beauty of each piece of furniture really starts to stand out.

Tip: Choose a general muted color to be the default of your space, and an accent color or two to highlight furniture and other accessories. Keep your space very minimal, keep only the essentials and store everything out of sight. This means you will most likely need to get creative with storage. When you are out shopping think of all the “hidden” places you could put storage containers – under the sink, under the bed, under the sofa, etc. Keep all surfaces clear and free of clutter.

  Ethnic

 Ethnic Design refers to anything with strong tribal patterns including Native American, Mexican, Indian, Moroccan, and many more. All of these ethnic styles have a common use of rich colors, dynamic contrasts, traditional patterns, and the unique decorations and accessories. Exotic plants, tiles and textured walls all tie the experience and “ethnic” atmosphere together. These styles can often be found blended together in Bohemian Interior Design.  

Tip: The quickest way to incorporate ethnic interior design is by using bright and colorful wool rugs, kilims or thin large rugs with traditional geometric patterns. Stick to deep, burnt shades rather than bright, bold colors for a warm look. Also use fabrics that integrate pattern and textured into your space.

 Hollywood Regency

This style is mainly associated with the World War I to World War II time periods, this style embodies the essence of the Roaring 20’s, exuding bold and flashy elegance. The most defining aspects are polished and shiny chrome or brass fixtures, geometric shapes, angular patterns, and bold curves. The furniture was often dark lacquered wood, and glossy paint combine for a slick and gleaming effect, sometimes with mirrored pieces attached to the surfaces. Fabrics were usually a mix of vinyl, silk and sati.

Tip: Choose rugs, carpets and upholstery with geometric, rhythmic motifs.

 Eclectic

A Mixture of all the following styles: Traditional, Mid-Century, Transitional, Bohemian, Hollywood Regency, Modern, Industrial, Rustic Shabby Chic Farmhouse, Natural Coastal, Contemporary, and Scandinavian. 

 Transitional

This is the most popular style in America. It is the type of furniture that you find most commonly at Pottery Barn and Ethan Allen. It is a refined take on traditional shapes with round, soft curved lines.  

 Contemporary

Contemporary Interior Design consists of straight lines, sharp corners, wide curves, sphere shapes, bold monochromatic solid colors, high contrast, minimal walls, and mixed metals. It has refined the shape of traditional furniture so much that it borders on Modern design with its simplified shapes. This style is the second most popular style, next to transitional, since these furnishings can go with just about any design.       

[angelstarotmagick]

Fluorite

Fluorite always reminds me of forests and flowers, mountain streams and glaciers. Looking at a fluorite crystal takes me to my happy place where I can ground myself and look at my life without the clutter of distractions. I get a feeling of calm peace and healing wisdom when I meditate with fluorite. The fact that my favorite colors-green and purple-are in this one stone doesn't hurt my love for it.

Fluorite has a long and mystical history with humankind. There is little or no evidence of its use in paleolithic cultures, but I feel pretty sure they knew of fluorite and had a use for it. Ancient China is one of the first cultures to provide evidence of using fluorite in magick. Purple fluorite was used to provide magickal protection for an individual and the community. It was believed in Ancient China that purple fluorite kept evil spirits away. In later years, it was incorporated into the practice of Feng Shui. In Feng Sui, green fluorite has a wood energy and it is kept in any space used for eating or where family gathers. Fluorite crystals were also considered makers of dreams and desires, helping people manifest dreams that were their true goal in life. At various times in Chinese history, green fluorite was substituted for jade in works of art.

A world away on a different continent, the Egyptians were carving sacred scarabs out of fluorite. Scarabs in Ancient Egypt were a symbol of rebirth and regeneration. They were often considered one of the most sacred of religious artifacts to the Egyptians. Fluorite was also carved into statues of the gods, household art, and jewelry.

Like everything they seemed to do, the Ancient Romans went overboard with their love of fluorite. Because of it's beauty and rarity, fluorite was highly sought after and prized. Fluorite drinking vessels were an important show piece in any Roman's collection, not only were they beautiful to behold. It was commonly believed that drinking from a cup carved out of fluorite would keep the drinker from getting drunk. Also, fluorite goblets were prized for the special flavor they supposedly gave wine that was was consumed from them. Unbeknownst to the Romans, that flavor they desired didn't come from the fluorite, but rather it can from a resin that was used during the carving process. Pliny the Elder is quoted for saying the following about fluorite in Roman society: “It came to be deemed the proof of wealth, the true glory of luxury, to possess something that might be destroyed in a moment.” Nero exemplified the Roman over the top love of fluorite when he reportedly paid 1 million sestercer ($240,000 today) for a single fluorite cup. Some Roman leaders kept fluorite objects as spoils of war; Pompey the Great took six vases from Mithridates and then gave them to the Temple of Jupiter in Rome so no one else could have them or Emperor Augustus who took a fluorite vase from the Pharaoh's Palace in Alexandria, Egypt.

We have no proof that the native people in the Mississippi Valley were obsessed as the Romans were for fluorite. What we do know is that the Mississippi Mound Builders carved fluorite into objects between 900 and 1650 AD. Archaeologists have found beads, jewelry, and statues in digs in several states. Most interesting of all the items found are the 6 whole or partial statues that have been found. The four complete statues show a seated figure and range in height from 9-11 inches (22.5-28 cm) in height carved from fluorite. Heads from a 5th and 6th statues have been found in Tennessee and Illinois. Because of the statues, Illinois elected to make fluorite its State Mineral.

In the 1670's, people began to use  hydrofluoric acid (an acid derived from fluorite) to etch glass. Hydrofluoric acid was only able to be produced in small batches until 1771 when Carl Wilhelm Scheele developed a way to produce large quantities of it. Highly diluted hydrofluoric acid soon caught on as a popular medicine. It was touted to alleviate symptoms of kidney disease, shrink varicose veins to half their size, and even grow hair on a bald head. We still use it as a medicine today in the form of fluoxetine, also known as Prozac, and in other applications including the element fluorine and in the miracle of non-stick cookware coatings known as Teflon.

There are over nine thousand deposits of fluorite known in the world today. Fluorite is mainly composed of calcium fluoride. It forms as veins when it fills in crevices and gaps in rocks that are subjected to intense hydro-thermal pressures. Fluorite often contains metallic ores and is often the primary or secondary mineral in marbles, granites, limestones, and dolostones.

Originally fluorite was known as fluorospar, a name that is still used for it today in the chemical and industrial trades. The name comes from the Latin word fleure  meaning “to flow.” Often it is used as a flux in the aluminium and steel smelting processes. Today it is also used in the ceramics industry as a glaze, enamel, and a specialty glass. It is used in the chemical industry as the source of fluoride, fluorine, and hydrofluoric acid. Fluorite is also processed to make high end, low distortion microscope, telescope, and camera lenses. Cannon began to look into fluorite lenses in the 1960's as a way to reduce chromatic aberration in high power telephoto lenses. They have since perfected the process and are the leaders in manufacturing fluorite camera lenses.

Fluorite is naturally colorless, the beautiful colors happen when impurities are in the material as the stone forms. For many rock collectors and jewelry makers, the colors of fluorite lend to its desirability. Many people think of a purple and green banded rock when they think of fluorite, but it comes in a much larger array of colors. Fluorite can be found with bands of the following colors: clear, white, grey, black, red, yellow, green, blue, purple, and rainbow.

Yttrian fluorite, or lavender fluorite, is an unusual form of the mineral. It often occurs in massive and granular formations. It gets its name from the rare earth element, Yttruim, that replaces the calcium ions in the mineral's structure. It is often a lavender color, but can come in several colors. It is a beautiful stone and a metaphysical helper. Yttrium fluorite is said to have the power to combat disorganization. It is also said to attract abundance and wealth, as well as increase your mental acuity. Part of the stone's wisdom is it is said to guide you to know when to remain silent, because silence is for the best. A favored stone of thinkers and dreamers, it is said to have the ability to ground ideas and aid in manifesting those ideas into reality. This is a crystal of self-fulfillment and self-actualization. It relieves stress and brings serenity by calming the mind. Often it is related to the Heart, Third Eye, and Crown Chakras. Yttrian fluorite is very useful for people who work in the service industry.

England has a form of fluorite known as Blue John Fluorite that is loved for its stunning banding. Its coloring tends towards blue and purple but it as contrasting bands of color often highlighted by other colors. Its bold coloring foretells its bold energies. It's energy is one of change and personal growth with a side of courage. It encourages spontaneity, travel, altruistic pursuits, and making positive changes in one's lifestyle. It does all this while instilling clarity of mind, deep inner peace, and guidance on how to find the solutions your need. Favored chakras of this gem are the Third Eye and Crown. Just a word of advise with this crystal, this is not a crystal to be trifled with, if you activate Blue John Fluorite to effect change in your life it will bring about change.

Not much is known about Radioactive Fluorite from a metaphysical stand point. Due to its radioactive properties it is hard to acquire and dangerous to work with outside of a laboratory setting. It was originally discovered in 1841 in the town of Wolsendorf in Bavaria. When broken, this violet-black rock releases ozone and hydrogen fluorite. Both substances together produce a fetid odor thus giving the stone its nicknames: stinkspar, stink-fluss, or fetid fluorite. It is also known as Antonzonite after the theoretical compound antozone, which was considered the cause of the foul odor.

Pure Fluorite is a clear mineral and metaphysically, clear fluorite is a symbol of purity. It is said that it has the power to purify the mind, body, and spirit; bringing a stable, harmonious order to one's life. Meditating with it strengthens one's consciousness while at the same time eliminating useless guilt, emotional turmoil, and pressures from others. Add it to healing crystal grids for a boost of Universal power or just use with individual crystals to boost their power. Clear fluorite stimulates the Crown Chakra and has the ability to align the chakras and infuse the physical body with Universal energy.

When most people think of fluorite, one of the last colors many people think of is yellow. Golden Fluorite is a sunny, happy color that has the ability to boost your mood and instill hope. This is a students' stone on many levels. It allows a person to learn with ease by integrating the information to be learned with the experiences needed to make it more memorable. It increases creativity, understanding, and logic in a way that makes information useful. It also enables one to manifest an idea into reality. Many also find yellow fluorite to be a powerful healing stone. It has been linked to healing and aiding in  controlling eating disorders (ie. Anorexia), liver and stomach ailments, joint problems, and is used for mind, body, and spirit detoxification. It has an affinity to the Solar Plexus Chakra.

One of the most common forms of fluorite is green fluorite. This stone can range from deep forest green to a vibrant day-glo green. This stone is a spring cleaning for your chakras as it naturally cleanses, refreshes, aligns, and heals them. Green fluorite doesn't just heal your chakras, it is a powerful healer of the rest of your mind, body, and spirit. It is often used to detoxify the body, resolve heart issues, sooth digestive complaints, relieve arthritis pain and stiffness, heal gout, and clear up fungal infections. The Heart Chakra benefits greatly from green fluorite's healing abilities. Meditating with green fluorite, used along with medical treatment and therapy, will allow you to release emotional trauma and worn out conditioning thus allowing you to be open to new avenues in your life and the ability to overcome or control your addictions. Green fluorite has this energy that wants to see us happy and healthy. It has the ability to clear negativity in the area around it, promote self-love, and remove blockages and narrow-mindedness.

From gentle and soothing to deep and mysterious, the color of Blue Fluorite says a lot about the metaphysical uses of the stone. It is known to help restore a person's emotional balance. In shamanism it is used to reprogram karmic programming that prevents someone from living up to their soul's full potential and heals soul fragmentation from present and past lives. Blue fluorite is a stone of justice; it will empower honesty and effective communication. It is attuned to the Third Eye and Throat Chakras, thus developing one's ability to communicate and enhancing one's psychic awareness. It is commonly used in crystal healings to repair issues with the ears, nose, and throat. Some people claim that meditating with blue fluorite helps to clear speech impediments.

Magenta Fluorite has a deep pinkish purple color reminiscent of sunlight shining through grape juice. This beautiful stone brings about a positive outlook on life. It works to bring about good decision making so the best possible choices can be made for the highest good for all involved. It has a deep connection to the Heart and Crown Chakras. It opens the Heart Chakra and reveals one's inner truth.

What's the best way to describe Purple Fluorite? Mystical and healing are what first come to mind. Purple fluorite is a metaphysical stone. It is noted to bring about mystical insights, enhances psychic abilities, and brings about visions. Part of the mystical abilities of purple fluorite come from its ability to open the Third Eye Chakra when used in meditations. It also has the ability to promote emotional stability and inner peace in a person. Students can also benefit from using this crystal, purple fluorite improves memory and aids in concentration. Crystal healers often employ it in their practices because of its ability to enhance medical treatments to heal septic wounds, shorten the duration of colds, and aid medical treatments to destroy tumors. On a final note, purple fluorite is considered a metaphysical diet aid to crystal healers because it is known to help eliminate bad food habits.

Black Fluorite is as dark as midnight and just as mysterious. It is often used to clear an area or person of negativity and has the ability to cleanse the auric field of any debris or clutter that has accumulated. If used at bedtime for meditation and then kept under the pillow, black fluorite is said to to be able to greatly decrease, and maybe eliminate, nightmares and their side effects.

Fluorite is most often purchased as a stone of several colored bands running through the stone.  This is Multi-color or Rainbow Fluorite. Rainbow fluorite is like a Swiss Army Knife of the mineral world. The energies of the crystal are determined by the colors in the stone. The piece of fluorite I own is colorless, green, and purple; and the energy it has relates to those colors. The green promotes healing within me, self love, and creativity while the colorless protects me and creates harmony within me, and finally the purple allows me a deeper understanding when I do divination. The more colors in a rainbow fluorite, the more energies that can be tapped into. Rainbow fluorite really is as powerful as it is beautiful.

Fluorite is a favorite stone of many crystal healers because it has so may uses. For relief of sinus pressure, hold a piece of  fluorite over the Third Eye and it is said to relieve that pressure. Fluorite is one of a select group of crystals believed to be able to neutralize and protect against dangerous EMF radiation. It is often used to reduce high blood pressure through mediation, because it is said to help calm the user. Its healing powers are vast. Some claim that it can help lower cholesterol, sooth a cough, relieve joint pain, clear up respiratory issues, cure pineal gland difficulties, help with nerve issues, help strengthen the body by building up the immune system, soothes insomnia, and is even said to have anti-viral properties. When using fluorite for healing purposes, remember to only use it in conjunction with the advice of a medical professional.

Fluorite has earned a place in the myths and religions all over the globe in the ancient world. The Etruscan people believed that the stone was sacred to Minerva, their Goddess of Wisdom, and they believed that stone could grant the bearer wisdom. Fluorite's gift of granting wisdom also made it sacred to Sophia, the Judaeo-Christian Spirit of Wisdom. Fluorite is the sacred stone for two Hindu goddesses, Annapurna (the Goddess of Food and Cooks) reflects the nourishing aspects of fluorite, and to Vac (the Goddess of the Spoken Word) exemplifies fluorite's aspects of wisdom. Lastly, Itzpapaloti, the Aztec Butterfly Goddess and the Aztec symbol of female strength, considers it sacred.

Fluorite is a must have for any crystal worker. It is extremely useful, affordable, and beautiful. The only warning I have been able to find for it is do not charge in sunlight because it may dull the colors. I can't recommend Fluorite enough.

Fluorite

Also Known As: Fluorspar, “Genius Stone,” Fluorospar, “Home of the Rainbows”

Color: purple, green, yellow, blue, colorless, pink, red, white, brown, black, multi-color

Associated Deities: Minerva (Etruscan Goddess of Wisdom), Itzpapaloti (Aztec Butterfly Goddess), Annapurna (Hindu Goddess of Food, Kitchens, and Cooks), Vac (Hindu Goddess of the Spoken Word), Sophia (Goddess of Wisdom)

Zodiac: Gemini, Pisces

Element: Fire, sometimes Air

Source: deposits are located in over 9000 areas of the world, United States, Britain, Australia, Germany, Norway, China, Peru, Mexico, Brazil

Chakra: Third Eye, Heart, Throat

Angels: Menadel (Guardian of those born between September 18-23), Amnixiel (Guardian of the 28th Mansion of the Moon, Pisces), Jeremiel (Helper to healing emotions), Mastema (Helps deal with adversity), Michael (Beauty Angel, Tree of Life, Helps heal fear), Scheliel (Guardian of the 7th Mansion of the Moon, Gemini), Barchiel (Angel of the Tarot card “Death”, Aquarius), Taliahad (Angel of the Tarot card “Hanged Man”), Chamuel (Archangel).

Keywords:  Energy clensing, protection, balance, wisdom, peace, spiritual development, meditation, concentration, clarity, healing, justice, psycic awaremess, purification, detoxification, inner truth, flexibility, positivity, manifestation, self-fulfillment, self-actualization, stability

Magickal Uses:  Healing spells, protection magick, meditation, spiritual and psychic development, animal spirit and totem communication, learning, peace magicks, manifestation magicks, crystal healing, posisitivity magicks, creativity, accessing wisdom, divination

Divinatory meaning: What you want may not be practical, but you should not compromise your principles

State: State Mineral of Illinois

Tarot Card: Suit of Swords

Name Origin: Latin fleure  meaning “to flow”

Warning and Notes: do not expose to prolonged sunlight, it may cause the colors to fade. Prolonged submersion in water will cause some fluorite to dissolve.