#meanwhile i will call at least the electric this afternoon. maybe the water as well i'll see how the electric goes!!!

[whoslaurapalmer]

so this week's overall mission is Getting Bills In My Name, and my cousin's wife and my aunt and i went to comcast on friday to ask about getting my mom's plan in my name or starting a new account (first of all we have tv+internet through comcast, and verizon for cell phones -- the only reason i can figure for this is because we've been a comcast customer since before we had cell phones, but then we had the landline since before we had the internet, idk it was the late 90s, okay.), and the woman at comcast said that my mom's plan isn't actually something they offer anymore and is a great deal, so i could be grandfathered in to it, which wasn't what i was expecting bc i'd priced cheaper plans online (including with the phone) but i was like. okay. this woman is an employee and of course, knows comcast better than i do. and they don't even offer this specific plan anymore but i could still get it! so my brother and i go back this morning to comcast with the account switching paperwork but i also came With Questions. bc i have a limited income and i would like it to cost less than it current does, bc that's a lot!! and when i did price plans online!! the options were cheaper!! and better suited to me as one person!! but the woman at comcast said that there really was no cheaper plan and also that phones were not bundled and a separate cost? and i was like. 1) i am not a comcast employee. there are things i do not know. 2) however, it says something different online, but i don't want to argue with this woman, bc she's nice but also kind of intimidating and doesn't sound like she's actually willing to work with me on the best price and what's right for me, despite me leading with 'i'm on a limited income.' 4) there may be things i have to make concessions on going forward, in the name of finances, which i hate, and she said i could take out cable, but i really do like cable. it's a whole thing. i shouldn't have to compromise. i don't know. 5) these are decisions i have to make myself now!! no one can make them for me!! which is nice but also incredibly stressful!! i don't want to make the wrong decision, but i also want to stand firm if i think there might be a better option, and i also don't want people to just tell me what to do!! 6) i should have asked more specific questions, probably. but i was very thrown in the moment, despite preparing. i am working so hard, okay. 7) MAYBE SHE SHOULD'VE ASKED HER OWN QUESTIONS, THOUGH, SEEING MY CONCERN!!

also overwhelmingly it'd be easier to make decisions if THE GOVERNMENT WOULD PROCESS MY APPLICATION AND GIVE ME MY DECEMBER MONEY

so i told her i'd have to think about it. i might just call comcast right out instead and see what they tell me. in any event, my brother and i had a great time looking at all the display phones and poking them while we were waiting!! we got to see the touchscreen flip phones!!!

my brother: whoa. me: i think they're so neat, but they're so expensive. but, the flipping...... my brother: don't they test them for like, one thousand flips or something? me: yeah, but like, i just KNOW i'd fidget with it. i KNOW i would. my brother: ......yeah, you would. me: and so i'm convinced i'd break it somehow. but it is neat. my brother: it is.

[katsukikitten]

Warnings College AU sexual and adult themes. Yall know the drill okay

Chapter 2

Bugzapper⚡💔: i have a proposition to make. 

Jiro flashes Mina her phone as she sips iced coffee in the blessed air conditioning of the cafe.

"That's never a good sign." She comments, moon bright eyes glued to the phone as she thinks. 

"What's not a good sign?" Uraraka asks from across the table, the two girls fill her in. 

"Oh." She racks her brain on what that could be, "Okay well I'm dying to know, now." 

🎵Music to my soul 🎶 : What do you want airhead? 

Jiro's text sent a surge of excitement through Kaminari. It was exactly what he needed after three hours of begging and bribing Bakugou to allow the sorority in or at least invite them. His fingers fly across the screen setting up a date and time for a "meeting over lunch" to discuss the proposition in further detail.  

Meanwhile across campus, you huff, eyes narrowed as a rare emotion is pulled from your fingertips in the form of deadly ice. Pulling the moisture from the air to freeze it or pulling any water towards you to keep your flank safe as your opponent rushes you at breakneck speeds. 

You hated this fucking guy, cocky, brash, so God damn arrogant in the way he held himself, in the way he spoke. It made you nauseous just thinking of him.Had you known he was the male star of this university you wouldn't have transferred, yet you still needed to transfer didn't you? Anything to get out from under the shadow of a certain Todoroki. 

No one cared to admit or to notice, that your quirk was different from Shoto's. You could manipulate water towards you to freeze, and manipulate whatever was already frozen. Your ice was denser and more durable than his and dare you say it colder than his too. Yet no one gave a shit, his was ice AND fire. You were just a one trick pony and a trick they already saw. Your opponent's taunting doesn't help matters much.

"I've already seen this before Ice Brat. Did ya forget where I fucking went to high school?" His hand heats the ice as he activates his quirk before three deafening blasts ring out. 

As you allow him to break down the ice you act on pure rage, securing some revenge from the first time he signed your hair. Pointed icicles lie in wait and once the wall is fully down you give him a nasty smirk before sending the straight his way. 

You're supposed to melt your weapons before they hit your opponent, neither of you are supposed to go all out per the professor's and college's strict rules in the athletics department but Bakugou always does. Somehow his big stupid mouth spews something that eggs you on. As if someone were shoving bamboo skewers beneath your skin, under your nails, sending you into an unheard of rage. 

Normally you were as your quirk, icy, unbothered by the world but Bakugou, God you could wring his neck. Freeze his hot blood as you watch him turn into slush beneath your feet. 

He expects you to abide by the rules, to splash him with glacier water but he realizes it too late. That you won't he let's off a quick blast, shattering two of the four deadly points. One grazes his cheek as he just barely dodges while the other lodges itself into his arm. 

You have half a mind to twist it. You pull at his blood bringing it into your arsenal. Blood red needles and bullets surround Bakugou. 

"I don't think you've seen this before.." You say darkly ready to release your hold and shred him into, give him a taste of his own medicine. Maybe he would see how bitter and nauseating he was. He smirks, opening his mouth to retort but you send your ice his way aiming for non vital spots although the ice creeps closer to your heart begging it to hit something vital. The inside of your ice palace begins to reek of burning sugar and spice, he plans to let out an explosion to bring this whole place down from the inside out. 

Just as he is about to detonate and just as the blood and ice are about to pierce skin the professor bursts into the gym.  

"I step out for five minutes and this is what happens?!"

The ice and blood return to liquid splashing across Bakugou as his skin pops. The professor takes in the damage from your ice and his explosions, still better controlled than most of his other students quirks. 

"I gotta stop pairing these two together." He murmurs to himself before dismissing class. With a flick of your wrist the ice fortress melts, returning to the reservoir below the gym floor, ignoring the molten glare that is sent your way.

"You're such a bitch." Bakugou growls as you pass, flinging blood from his fingers as he wipes at his face. You offer him a fake pitying smile before heading into the women's locker room. 

"Fucking asshole." You hiss, forcing the sight of his garnet gaze out of your mind. Instead turning your attention to your buzzing phone in your locker. It's a few missed calls and some texts in the girl's group chat. Briefly you wonder if you ever should have joined that stupid sorority, it was small, non toxic, and would look good should you need to transfer again. 

Not only did you somehow get elected the president but you also became friends with the three other ladies despite your best efforts not too. 

Mins: Prez we might have a way to save the sorority...lunch after you're done with training? 

IceQueen ❄: Hope it's good, the Dean already put the house up for sale. Let me get ready and I'll be there shortly. 

Mina presents her phone to the crowd around her, Kirishima, Denki, Sero, Jiro and Uraraka do a small celebration. Denki more so than anyone else, he knows the combined car washes will be more than enough to fix up the house, he also recently learned that you had the power of negotiation on your side. Having just listened to Mina retell the story of how you got free food for a month from a bar for yourself and your friends. And not from some sleaze who wanted to sleep with you either, no it was from the owner himself. 

Denki is hopeful and so are the ladies indicating that this may be his best idea yet. 

You arrive at the small bistro early, spying your party on the front patio. The three men had seen you in person before, they knew you were easy on the eyes but up close you were breathtaking. Manicured nails but nothing gaudy, normally nude or soft shades, light makeup, mascara at most as far as they could tell and your outfit was well put together. You were what the world called plus size but everyone else called thiccc. Your confidence oozing in your light blouse tucked into your black skinny jeans, uncaring that you had a pouch. 

You needed that extra fat to keep from freezing by your own quirk. The only thing you needed society to worry about was your intelligence and your power. 

Both were SSR ranked so what did you fucking care that your body was ranked lower. They were stupid in thinking you'd skimp power in the name of vanity. 

You recognize everyone at the table and internalize the dread you're feeling. Scheming is afoot and you're the last to arrive. You can tell by their half finished drinks and picked over appetizer, still you sit and act unaware. Denki goes to hold out his hand first for a formal introduction causing a sly cat smile to settle over your glossy lips. 

"No need, I'm aware of who the three of you are. Sero we share our lingual class, Denki, our chemistry class, and Kirishima we share two classes, world studies and villain hero theory. Truly a pleasure." You tell then your name before ordering something to drink from the lingering waitress. Sitting stick straight with your shoulders backs has the men mirroring you. 

"Well ladies I take it the plan to save the sorority involves these fine gentlemen." You ask coolly and they nod. After a moment of silence Mina and Denki go to speak. Awkwardly encouraging the other to speak until Minai clears her throat. 

"As you know they are a newly formed frat with Sero as their president. They moved into their house about a month ago and they say it is quite large. So they have invited us to move in." 

"How do you propose we ask the college to have a co-ed house? What does this fraternity home even look like?" They knew you would be quick to ask questions Mina answers the first while Denki provides the answer to the second. 

"Union and Diversity. Forming close relationships now to carry over into our hero careers." 

"The house needs some work but looks a lot better than what it did." Denki shows you before and after pictures as you gesture for his phone. He passes you his electric yellow case with nervous hope tingling beneath his skin. You swipe through the photos. 

"You boys did a great job on the outside. Inside needs a lot of work. Hardwoods will be easy to fix, they are original but don't seen to be damaged, a good scrub will spruce them up. Wait, are those?" You zoom in on the photo of the living room, "Are those foldable camping chairs and a VHS tv?" 

They gulp loudly as they nod, your purse your lips in disapproval. 

"I can fix that." You pass Denki back his phone, assuming that all the roommates will be present, "I see the main focus was the kitchen but some of the appliances seem to be on their last legs. I can fix that as well." 

"Soooo….So it's a yes?" Jiro asks, feeling relief for the first time in months since they received the letter of eviction. 

"Gotta get the college to agree first." You think on it a moment, "But I'm sure we can arrange that. Uraraka can you draft an email to the Dean requesting an official meeting regarding our sorority? Be sure to explain in detail our situation, how we are being forced to disband by their account and the solution we have. Make sure it's an afternoon meeting too. The dean hates to miss golf with our rival university's dean." 

With the plan set in motion all of you return to your evening classes. Jiro nudges Denki in the ribs, listening to his heart race from their closeness. 

"When are we going to tell her about Bakugou?" She throws her almost lover a look that he seems to wither beneath. His jaw tics before he retorts. 

"I think we should wait to see if this even works first." 

After a week the important meeting arrives and as you thought the Dean is already exhibiting signs of impatience. He is more than ready to wrap this up and you already know his answer is going to be no. Already trying to get it out before the four of you can even have a seat. 

Still you weren't the Ice Queen on campus for nothing. You saunter into the room, mineola folder filled with your copies of counterpoints pressed firmly to your chest, you can already see he doesn't have the copies you sent him. You place the folder down and open it, leafing through the pages as you speak. 

"This request is going to be approved and here are the reasons why. An example of sexism could be made that a new fraternity was approved housing, new housing, after a decades old sorority was deemed "too small" both parties are similar in count. Second funding and donations are easily influenced with letters to alumni and especially by attendees to this university. My transfer from YAU has brought in revenue of roughly 2.6 million dollars, increasing your diversity for women when this is normally a male dominated school. I am aware that my transfer had even encouraged other students from YAU to transfer here. Which I'm sure is one of your favorite bragging points to tell Dean Fraunk during your weekly golf trips isn't it? So it would truly be a shame if these points would come to light in the investigation of my return to YUA just months before the university sports festival. I do look amazing in Ice Blue you know. Matches my quirk a lot better than Maroon." You put the ball in his court, he is visibly upset, eyes flying to the facts that you've presented. All important, viable facts. You were right MMU was known to be a male dominated school and the media would have a field day if they uncovered a mistake he happened to look over. Not to mention you were his main bragging point, Dean Yuzi always talked about how he had stolen you, the female star of rising heroes, from YUA.  The silence in the room is amplified by the ticking of the clock, seconds accumulating into minutes as it counts down his T time with his old college buddy and rival. He gulps nervously, knowing what he has to do in order to keep both his bragging rights and a law suit under wraps. He looks up to you as you wear your stone cold face, making him think of a loan shark who hasn't been getting their payments on time. He is fearful for your future boss.  

"I believe I have no choice but to approve." 

"Correct." You respond, "Now we have a bit more to discuss. I noticed that classrooms 456 and 215 are being remodeled. Those gently used flat screens will be given to our house since it is technically college property. Common space 3 and 1 are being renovated in dorms A and B. We will accept the leather arm chairs as they are in good shape but we demand a new couch. I know it is in the budget as I help plan the budget. I also believe it is time for an allowance for our hybrid house." The Dean shrinks away from your tenacity, nodding as that is all he can do.  

"Well this is a generous offer and should cover most of the basic necessities such as a new fridge and mattress. The aesthetic we will be raising funds for. Kindly spread the word, we don't want to take up more of your time and be late with your 'meeting' with Dean Fraunk." You place a flyer on his desk as you turn on your heel. The rest of the sorority, mouth agape following suit. Yuzi looks down at the flyer, head hung in a mixture of disbelief and shame as he reads over the neon paper advertising a co-ed car wash. 

He just hopes you and Bakugou are worth the trouble. 

[talpup]

Lost Song: 2

Summary: The war between the Dragons and Griffons ended 233 years ago, and both races right along with it.

Or so it was believed. There are three individuals that will soon change that.

Kai is the last of the Dragons and he seeks to take what he sees as his rightful place and rule over all of Oblvi. Meanwhile, Shouta, the last Sphinx, wants nothing more than to do his job; keep the peace and and teach the young Fourth’s to hopefully avoid the mistakes of their ancestors. And Teris, a Foundling who is just trying to understand and survive in this strange new world that is supposedly her own.

All three have their own wants and desires, but Kai’s plans, Teris’ existence, and Shouta's past mean that none of them may get what they want.

***So this fic will have a LOT more world building than my others.  Please feel free to comment or send me an ask if you have any questions.  

This fic is rated explicit and has warnings of sex, violence, and other possible triggers.

If you prefer reading off AO3 here’s the link for that: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24009679/chapters/57812554

I write for my own enjoyment, but edit and post for yours.  If you enjoyed reading this at all please comment and let me know.  It’s the only thing that encourages me to keep editing and posting.

Special thank you to @inorganicone2230 who knows of my love for the mythic and encouraged me to start this fic without stressing about the other two I’ve got going.  Your friendship means the world to me.

Thank you to those who have left hearts.  And a special thank you to those who have left comments or re-blogged. They really mean a lot.

2.1

“Why are we waiting out in the hall?”  Teris asked, eyeing the closed double doors.

“Because.” Twice snapped.  “I’m sorry Mistress.  Ilca dorms are protected.” The House Elf went on in meek apology.  “One can’t enter unless a member of the resident Ilca or invited in by one.”  Seeing a copy of himself Twice turned and demanded.  “Have you seen Aizawa?  He’s making the Mistress wait.”

The copy escorting Hizashi shook his head in answer and scolded. “Remember what Nedzu said.  No calling the Mistress, Mistress.”

Twice huffed at his copy, waving him away.

As if sucked into a whirlpool, the copy spun around and disappeared.

“Wha--” Hizashi shook his head.  The sight, though astounding, wasn’t the strangest thing he had seen these last two days.  “Teris!” Hizashi rushed to her.

Twice stepped in Hizashi’s way, a warding hand outstretched.  “No touching the Mistress!”

“Hey.” Teris snapped.  “I’m not your Mistress.  And he’s my friend.”

“Weak, unknowing friend.”  Twice snipped, his next words smooth and sweeter.  “The Mistress is too kind.”

Hizashi stepped around the House Elf and hugged Teris in a warm, friendly embrace.  Though they had only met each other a couple days ago they were in this boat together.  Cast adrift in unknown waters. Surrounded by literal monsters, all be it in human form, and told that this was their new home.  Their new life.  An experience like that would make fast friend's of anyone.

Teris stiffened but accepted Hizashi's hug.  She couldn’t say why she felt a protective instinct over Hizashi.  The sense of kinship was easily explained by the upheaval they were both going through.  But her guarded jealousy of him was different.  It wasn’t romantic. More familial.  Only deeper.  More binding.  Hizashi was hers.  And in a sense a part of her.

“How was the person who will be helping you learn?  Did they treat you well?”  If they didn’t I’ll be paying them a visit, she thought.

“Oboro? Yeah!  He seems like a fun guy.  He’s some kind of wind spirit called a Venti though he seemed pretty solid to me.  What about you?”

“Kai was… alright.”

Neither saw Twice’s lip curl at the mention of the Dragon.

Hizashi frowned.  “You don’t sound so sure.  Maybe they’ll let you come with me.  Oboro was really nice.”

“You heard what Yagi and Director Nedzu said about the difference of divisions.  Apparently I’m a beast and need to be taught by one.”

Twice nodded firmly.  “Kind for kind.  Fourth’s learn best from their own.  If no direct species can be found, genus, order, class, phylum, and lastly division kind for kind must be sought.  The closer line of connection.  The better it is for all.  Less chance of death and devastation.”

“Death and devastation!”  Teris balked.

“Too loud.”  A rough, low voice complained.  Shouta fixed tired eyes on Twice.  “Sprite.  Quit scaring my Ilca.”

“I’m not scaring.  Yes I am!  The Mistress must be protected.  You’re late!”

Shouta's eyebrows pulled together.  Mistress?  He mouthed the word, wondering at it.  Too exhausted to contemplate the idiosyncrasies of the clearly insane House Elf, he simply dismissed.  “Go away.”

Damn his class, Shouta thought, rubbing the back of his stress tightened neck.  He loved and would die for his students.  But on days like today, he just wanted to bind them all with his capture weapon, throw them in a dungeon, and forget they existed for a couple of weeks while he caught up on some much needed sleep.

Bakugou and Midoriya especially had been in rare form this afternoon.  It had been as if the two finally found something they agreed upon something.  And that thing had been testing him.  The Basilisk was extra aggressive toward everyone, spitting literal venom at his friends.  And Midoriya…  The Thoth was even more interested in exploring the limits of his own immortality.  As if the kid had read in one of his books that today was some great day to die.

Naturally, Midoriya had ended up at the healers.  Again.  And when Shouta went to check on him at the end of the day he had gotten an earful from Shuzenji. The old Nagual admonishing him to inform Midoriya what she no doubt told the boy every time he ended up in the healers. That just because Fourth’s were immortal didn’t mean they couldn’t die.

Twice spun around to Hizashi, remembering the questions and conversation he had bothered his copy with.  “You...”

There was an audible pop that left Hizashi's ears feeling as if he hadn’t swallowed during an altitude change.  For a moment he thought the House Elf had disappeared.  But quickly realized that wasn’t the case.  Twice had shrunk in size.  He remembered what Oboro had said about true forms and wondered it this was Twice’s.  It was cute.

Before Hizashi could ooh and aah, Twice went on, voice sounding as if he had taken a drag of helium.  “Don’t speak to me unless you have a task or order that falls within my domain.”

“Sorry…” Hizashi’s apology sounded more like a question.

Pitch growing higher, Twice continued to shrink like a deflating balloon, he bowed to Teris.  “Mistress.  If ever you need anything.  Don’t call!  Don’t hesitate to call.”

Shouta’s eyes narrowed.  House Elves cared nothing for the inhabitants of the house.  The only thing that mattered to them was the house itself. The reason they did things such as cook and clean was because it kept the place well ordered and running smoothly.  They weren’t servants.  More like mildly malevolent caretakers of the home that tolerated the residents because things, including homes, went mad when left alone.  So why was Twice offering assistance?

His headache pulsed in his temples.  Shouta grunted and ordered.  “Off with you.”

Twice hissed at the Sphinx, finally disappearing fully with a pop as he shrunk totally in on himself.

Hizashi blinked at the space Twice had been.  “Well that was… interesting.”

“Yeah. Whatever.”  Shouta sighed pushing passed them to get to the door.

He pushed one of the large double doors open and paused.  New Ilca members usually swore something when Binding to an Ilca clan.  From what he understood it was normally along the lines of being loyal to the Ilca clan they were joining and its purpose.

Shouta sighed.  To hell with it.  He was too tired to deal with all that. The two Foundling’s were lucky that he came by the dorm at all.  A part of him had been tempted to leave them out of the secure housing that was, or at least use to be, his private sanctuary.  It wasn’t as if Traverseen Hall didn’t have countless comfortable sitting or meeting rooms for the two to bed down in.  But that would have hardly made for a good first impression.  And, like it or not, these two were to be members of his Ilca.  For the sake of peaceful cohabitation some effort had to be made.

“Welcome. I accept you, or whatever.”  Shouta mumbled stepping in and holding the door for them.

There. It was done.  The Bind was set.  He officially had two members in his Ilca.

“I’m Yamada Hizashi.”  Hizashi held out a hand.

Shouta nodded, struggling to keep his eyes open.  All he wanted was to get a few winks of sleep before it was time to go out on patrol.  Just exchange names he drowsily told himself.  Don’t be rude.  For the sake of peaceful cohabitation, just try to be nice.

“Good for you.”  Shouta stifled a yawn.

Teris stepped forward.  “Are we boring you?”

Shouta turned to the woman for the first time.  His sight sharpened his senses enough for his weary mind to register the warm electric feeling that had been buzzing deep within him.  Her.  She was… Beautiful.  No.  Well, yes.  She was beautiful.  But that wasn’t what the tingling feeling was.  Her powers aura.  She was of ancient pedigree.

Suddenly Shouta felt wide awake.  “Not in the least.”  He cleared his throat, noticing Hizashi's hand.  Clasping the blonde’s forearm with a hand, he gave a firm squeeze of greeting.  “Aizawa. Shouta.”  He turned back to Teris.  “And you are?”

“Nova Teris.”  She took one look at Shouta's outstretched hand and pointedly turned away.  The man was rude.  He had already hurt Hizashi's feelings.  She didn’t like him.

Hand falling to his side without a care of her snub, Shouta set down the stack of homework that needed grading.  “I don’t have much stored in the kitchen.  But call for Twice.  He’ll complain about it, but will make you whatever you want.  You two do know how to call for the House Elf, don’t you?”

Hizashi nodded, smiling.  Happy to actually know something.  Oboro had taught him how to do it earlier in the day.  It wasn’t so much the name as the will behind it.

“Twice!” Hizashi called.

“No! Don’t--”

But it was too late.  Twice appeared.

Shouta glared at Hizashi, unsuccessfully stifling a growl.

“What is it?  How may I help you?”  Twice asked.

“Go away.”  Shouta ordered.

Within the confines of the dorms Shouta had claimed as Ilca leader, Twice was forced to obey whether he wanted to or not.  The House Elf disappeared.

“It was a question.  Not a test.  What are you?  One of my students?”

Teris moved between the glaring man and Hizashi.  “And what are you?  An asshole?  It was an easy mistake.  You’d think as a teacher you’d know how to be more clear with your questions.”

Shouta's head tilted.  He took in Teris’ protective stance and smirked. “Pack beast.”

“What did you call me?”

Shouta all but rolled his eyes.  “You hear me.  Are you simply looking to be offended?  You might not know much, but I know for a fact you were told you were a beast.”

Teris glared.

“What?” Shouta huffed.  “I stated a fact.  It’s not like I called you an asshole.”

“Because I wasn’t acting like one.”  Teris retorted.

“That’s debatable.”

Hizashi’s eyes darted between the two.  He hated conflict.  “So!  What are you?”

Shouta turned to the loud blonde.  Why was he so loud?  Maybe it just seemed that way because he was overtired.  His exhaustion returned, making his shoulders sag.  “Sphinx.”

“Can we see your true form?”  Hizashi asked, brightly.

“No. True forms aren’t some parlor trick.”  He heard Teris’ low growl and struggled not to growl in return.

Damn it.  So much for good first impressions and peaceful cohabitation. Shouta opened his mouth to tell the sad looking Hizashi maybe later, but thought better of it.  He wasn’t the best at socializing; and his temper and exhaustion clearly weren’t helping him.  The longer he stayed the worse he would make of this.

“Look. I got patrol in less than an hour.  There’s eight open quarters to chose from.  Pick whichever one you like.  You know how to call Twice if you need him.  Please.  For your sake and mine.  Don’t call the House Elf unless it’s to give an order that has to do with some sort of household chore.  They can be spiteful when offended. Causing inconveniences ranging from too cold or too hot rooms. Blaring light at night.  Damp or torn clothes.  Or worse, clothes washed in a Tongons sty.  And their grudges can last for centuries.”

Hizashi deflated even further at that.  “H—how do you make it up to them?”

“You don’t.”  Shouta said simply.  He made for the door and opened it. “And don’t go destroying my—our place.  It’s the only sanctuary I have.”

2.2

Hari found Kai in their Ilca dorms library.  Seeing various books stacked and open on the nine large tables, the Arepyiai inquired. “Something I can help you search for, Sir?”

“Just looking for adequate material for my pupil to read.”  Kai muttered without looking up for the tome his was skimming.

“The Foundling?”

“Teris. She has a name, Hari.  And seems proud enough to demand its use.” Kai finished, softly.

Though the Dragons last words were meant for himself, Hari’s keen ears heard them.  The Spirit raised an eyebrow.  “I didn’t think you would take Nedzu’s assignment so seriously.”

“How so?”

“With as busy as you are, I thought you would pass her instruction on to one of the others.”

Kai snapped the book shut.  “Would you like to instruct the Beast on the way of things?”

There was something almost possessive in Kai’s gold eyes.  Hari found his own gray gaze, lowering.  “I live to serve.”

At the proper response, Kai’s expression eased.  “The Rat would hear about it if I pushed his tiresome task off on someone else.  Nedzu’s already watchful enough.  I’d rather not give him further excuse to stick his nose in my affairs.  Besides, the aura of Teris’ power was... ancient.”  He paused, remembering the tug of hope he had felt for a brief moment.  The split second thought that he wasn’t alone.  That another dragon had been found.  A queen to rule at his side and help see his plans come to fruition.  Kai shook away the memory and put the book in the maybe pile.  “Who knows. Depending on what her species turns out to be, she might be found worthy of becoming a follower.  But that would first require proper instruction.”

Hari nodded.

Dismissing the Arepyiai with a wave, Kai ordered.  “Just be sure to tell the Ilca to be mindful during the day.  Having her around will be a bit of an inconvenience.  But it might be worth it.”

2.3

Shouta landed on the large balcony outside his quarters.  Though there were luscious plants and a soothing fountain, the terrace was more than just some pretty place to sit and look at.  It’s main purpose was as launching post, or in this case a landing pad for large fliers.

Though the place was littered with seating areas and clumping sections of green, there was just enough space for him to land comfortably while in his true form.  He had tried clearing out the space of its fountain and plants.  But Twice’s wrath wasn’t worth the headache, and so he had left it.  So long as he didn’t have to tend to the flora he didn’t really care.  If he were honest, it was nice to look at.  Not that he ever had the time to do so.

The Sphinx stretched out his dabbled grey and black wings and shook out his wavy, black mane relishing these last few moments of being in his true form.  It confounded how everyone else seemed perfectly happy to keep to their human forms.  It made him wonder if no one else felt like they were breathing through a heavy mask.

For Shouta, it felt as if the world was seen through a too small window while in human form.  As if he were touching things through a thick gloved hand.  He wondered if maybe that was part of the reason for Bakugou's constant outbursts.  That, like him, the Basilisk didn’t care for his human form.  Only with Bakugou being younger and of a more volatile species, the Basilisk reacted by taking the dissociative discomfort out on those around him.

It wasn’t that Shouta didn’t appreciated the distinct abilities that came with being in human form; but those abilities could often feel minute when he was forced to spend roughly ninety percent of his day, everyday, in what felt like thick gelatin.

Sighing he returned to his human form, hands opening and closing, missing his claws.  He opened the door and entered, already half asleep.  Mind focused on the single thought of bed he didn’t fully register the warm, sweet scent that greeted him upon entering.  Only that the smell was nice.  Comforting.

The large, hard, cold bed pulled him toward it like a gravitational force.  Uncaring about his clothes, Shouta fell face first into the warm, soft mattress.  Wait.  Warm?  Soft?

The soft, warmth moved and started to rise beneath him.  Shouta's head pulled off the plush pillow.  His hand pushed the warm, soft back down.

“Lights!”

At the same time a female voice cried out.  “Twice!”

This was the second time Teris had banished his foggy, exhaustion and got his blood pumping.  Laying on top of her, Shouta realized that the pillow his face had been buried had been her breasts.  His blood heated, pumping all the harder.  Hand on one of the perfect, soft twin mounds, he squeezed ever so slightly.

Teris’ eyes dart from the Sphinx’s groping hand to his handsome-- No!  Not handsome, face.  “Do you mind?”

The sharp, sternness of her voice pulled Shouta's eyes up from the breast his hand was on.  It really was a beautifully formed tit.  Too bad it was attached to an ill tempered, bothersome woman who shouldn’t be in his bed.

“Not all.”  Shouta’s hand gave another squeeze, this one firmer.  He heard her breath catch.  Felt her nipple harden against his palm.  He smirked, voice dropping an octave.  “Clearly you don’t either.”

“Off! Get off!”  Teris shoved him.

Shouta didn’t budge, arrogantly showing his power over her.  With one last gentle squeeze he knelt up and got out of bed.

“What the hell is wrong with you?  And where’s Twice?  Twice!”

Shouta shook his head.  She would wake up all of Traverseen Hall crying out like a Banshee.  “The House Elf isn’t allow in my quarters while I’m here.”

“You—You’re quarters?”

Shouta's eyes narrowed.  Was it the lighting and his exhaustion?  Or had there be a slight physical sharpening of her features?  “That’s right. Could you not tell this room was taken?”

Hugging the blanket to her chest, Teris looked about the space exasperated. “How, Aizawa?  How was I suppose to tell?  There’s nothing in here but limited furnishings.  Not an ounce of anything personal. It’s not like the door had your name on it.”

She realized with a start that the smell.  The warm and comforting scent should have been a clue.  The other chambers she checked out hadn’t had that distinct, somewhat earthy musk.  Her eyes widened as she realized the scent was purely Aizawa’s and hated herself for having liked it.

Cheeks colored in angry embarrassment, Teris tripped out of bed.  “This is your fault.”

“My fault?  How so?”  Shouta crossed his arms, both annoyed and amused.

“You should've stuck around.”

“Forgive me, Princess.  I have a job to do.  Two in fact.  Babysitting you wasn’t something I signed up for.  I don’t know what it was like before you were found but I’m not here to serve and cater to your whims.”

Teris glared.

Shouta stared.  There it was again.  The barest sharpening of her features that looked almost bird-like.  The world around them faded as his mind worked furiously.  A feeling of awe and foreboding grew deep in his chest.

She was a pack beast.  Had clearly claimed Hizashi as a member of her pack.  Prideful.  Jealousy protective of what she had claimed.  Her power had an ancient aura.  And Twice…  Twice called her Mistress. What had Traverseen Hall originally been before it was a school and home of the area Ilca?  That’s right. Before the Fall of Crowns that saw the end of the Dragon-Griffon War.  Traverseen Hall had been the home of a griffon pride.  Built long before the Dragon-Griffon War for one of the oldest, proudest griffon prides there ever was.

[ashfountainfanfics]

The deadlights show a lifetime and then another and then another. Some moments are so clear cut that you’re practically there. Others are overlapped on top of each other, indiscernible and incomprehensible. Beneath it all is the feeling of wanting to die because you’re so painfully human and everything you’re seeing isn’t meant for your fragile mind.

The feeling intensifies as Richie watches a sharp claw burst out of Eddie’s chest. The blood that splatters on his chest and mouth is warm. It tastes like pennies. Richie’s voice cracks as he says Eddie’s name.

Richie doesn’t want to leave him. But It is dying. Richie wants It dead so he helps. When It  dies, It crackles and floats away like paper set on fire. Maybe that’s all It ever really was; a paper clown. Richie goes to tell Eddie. But it’s too late.

Eddie’s dead.

Eddie gets left behind.

Eddie has a tomb.

With It.

Richie wants to die.

A vision surfaces out of the cacophony. It sweetly beckons Richie’s own body to climb up chair. Two bare feet planted firmly on a leather lined seat. It’s cold. The rope is scratchy around his throat. His heartbeat thuds in his ears. Now jump, the vision coaxes him in his own voice. Just jump.

Something else breaks through.

Richie feels like he’s being pulled out of heavy water face first. It hurts as much as it’s relieving. Eddie’s face is close and Richie slams back into his own body with a rough gasp.

“I did it!” Eddie shouts, “Holy shit I did it! It worked! It-“

Richie knows in his fucking bones that they need to move. Now. The knowledge doesn’t come to him as a vision nor is it spoken. It just is. Richie grabs Eddie by the shoulders and throws everything into rolling them over and away.

Before Eddie can question it he sees one of It’s spider like appendages crash into the ground. The sharp, claw like tip sparks against the stone and It shrieks at the harsh contact.

Richie's body shields Eddie’s. Eddie starts laughing nervously as It pulls back to its main body.

“I almost fucking died,” Eddie giggles wildly.

“C’mon!” Richie helps Eddie up and waves over the others.

They manage to find a momentary place of safety. The crevice of the cave feels humid and cold. It continues to rage at them; its legs and arms wildly looking for them.

Richie is cupping Eddie’s face and looking him over. He’s still hysterical and giggling. His breathing is too heavy and at this rate he’ll pass out.

“Eds! Focus!” Richie has to hold back from pushing sense into the sides of his skull.

Instead he opts for a hard slap on Eddie’s good cheek. It stops the giggling and Eddie goes wide eyed instead.

“I almost died,” he says again.

“You think you’d be used to it,” Richie says with a smile, “didn't you almost die this afternoon too? Or was that just a weird tooth brush accident?”

“Fuck you,” Eddie smiles back, “you okay?”

Richie nods. Meanwhile the others in the pack have been foiled in their plan to force It through the small entrance to It’s lair. Richie catches wind of a few shitty insults being slung by the Losers Club.

“That’s our cue,” Richie says quickly and again brings Eddie to his feet.

“What the fuck does that even mean!?”

Again, Richie just knows. He’s got an undoubtable knowledge of what’s happening and what’s to come. This time he’s going to take it up a notch.

It is already backed up into its original landing site. It recoils and hisses at the Losers as they call It out on everything they can.

“I know a joke when I see one,” Richie yells, “you, clown faced bitch.”

“You target kids because you can’t scare enough adults!” Eddie chimes in, “You can’t catch a real meal can you? You have to live off of- off of fucking snacks!”

“And you play with your food too!” Richie continues, “We literally teach your fucking food source better than that!”

It looks deflated coincidentally just like a balloon. It’s so small now and Richie cements It’s fear by grabbing an appendage and ripping it off. He tosses it aside unceremoniously.  The Losers have taken on a mantra, calling It a clown and really what’s so scary about a clown?

Mike pulls It’s heart out as if he’s reached into a sad, skinny little Christmas tree and plucked out a hidden ornament.

Just like in Richie’s vision, Pennywise seems to flake and dissipate after the group squeezes It’s blackened heart into mush. The heart itself joins in the floating ashes. The strange and oddly secure knowledge that Richie had up until this point drifts away with it. 

The cave starts to crumble and the Losers claw their way out just in time. Richie makes sure he can see Eddie at all times. He keeps him in front and almost shepherds him to safety. He may not have that surreal psychic link anymore but he has that memory. He’ll be damned if Eddie gets buried here.

Richie can feel the debris of the house on Neibolt street brush against his back. The force from the collapse sends him forward. This time Eddie helps Richie to his feet.

“I almost fucking died,” Richie mimics Eddie’s wide eye expression from before.

“Asshole,” Eddie comments.

Richie pulls him into hug. It doesn’t matter that he smells like sewer and sweat. He buries his face into Eddie’s neck.

“You smell like shit,” Richie laughs.

“Well you tasted like puke so-“

Richie lets go of the hug and his brow knits.

“Tasted?” Richie asks, “When did you taste me?”

Eddie’s face goes red. He puts his hands in his pockets and shrugs.

“You looked at the dead lights and I speared the fucker but you weren’t back. Your eyes were still doing that thing, that weird glowing thing. And everyone was busy and I remember how Ben fixed Bev so I figured- I don’t know.”

Eddie had kissed Richie.

Richie nods but avoids eye contact. The natural banter between them grinds to a very sudden and awkward halt. Richie takes stock of the others and notices Bill and Mike wordlessly walking down the street. Bev quietly takes Ben by the hand and follows. Richie curtly follows suit and Eddie trails after him. No one speaks until they’ve reached their destination.

—

“This is asking for streptococcus!”

Eddie’s cry deters no one. Bev gets a running start and once she surfaces, the others follow. The water isn’t as deep as they remember and it’s less clear. It’s aged in its own way.

When Eddie surfaces he carefully brings his hand off his wound. Covering it hadn’t done much good though as it’s soaking wet. Again.

In all reality, if he got streptococcus it was definitely because of sewer water. Let alone whatever else was floating around in that literal shit.

Bev playfully dunks Ben. Bill laughs and Mike seems to be entirely at peace as he floats on his back. Eddie searches for Richie with his ears, banking on some kind of joke or comment to be heard. There’s nothing though and that makes Eddie whip his head around.

Richie is sitting on a rock. Alone. Eddie doesn’t blame him; being kissed by an old friend and coming back from the- well not the dead but not quite the opposite- is a little weird. Truthfully, Eddie doubts that his kiss made any impact. He’s pretty sure Ben’s kiss didn’t do anything either. Coming off the deadlights is a delayed thing. Probably.

Eddie cautiously swims up to Richie. Richie is taken by surprise but doesn’t move his body at all. He stays hunched over, face half buried in his forearms.

“You’re quieter than usual,” Eddie comments, “and you’re never quiet. Just saying.”

“I -uh, I saw some shit,” Richie responds.

Eddie rolls his eyes and pulls himself up on the rock, forcing Richie into a tight shared space.

“We all saw shit.”

Richie goes stiff as their shoulders and knees make contact. Eddie feels an electricity as they touch. He feels it spread all the way to his toes and fingers.

Just static he tells himself.

“It’s weird now, right?” Eddie says in spite of himself.

Without missing a beat, almost as if he hadn’t heard Eddie say anything, Richie rolls right into his own train of thought.

“Do you think true love exists?”

Eddie doesn’t know how to respond. He thinks maybe he ought to pull away. Maybe this conversation shouldn’t play out on a rock in a quarry with no distance. Maybe they shouldn’t be touching.

“Like is Myra your one true love?” Richie asks a bit sardonically, “Because that would be kind of gross.”

“She’s nice, okay?” Eddie glares into the water, “I mean, yes, she can be overbearing but-“

“But what?” Richie relaxes one leg to let his foot dangle into the lake, “Do you love her or not? No judgement this time. Really.”

Eddie thinks about this. He met Myra around the time his mother died. His mother was, in many ways, a massive presence. She left a hole behind when she passed and the idea of losing her scared him. Myra was familiar, yes. She wanted badly to be loved but only knew how to instruct love not ask for it. Eddie needed that structure. It was the only thing he ever knew.

He recoils at himself as he puts into full thought that he absolutely married a copy of his own mother. It’s short lived though. Of course he did that. What other types of women did he know? None. His mother had made sure of it.

“No,” Eddie sighs, “I married her after my mom died. I needed… something. And please spare me the Oedipal jokes. I didn’t realize what I was doing and grief is complicated okay?”

“You going home to her?”

“Fuck no.”

This shocks even Eddie. But it’s true. He’s faced death head on twice now. He has a sinking suspicion that if he’d remembered the first time life would have gone differently. What would that Eddie even be like? His mother was like a sickness he carried around and for the first time he felt free of it. Imagine what all he could have done had he saved himself as a child?

There definitely wouldn’t be a marriage to Myra. Eddie can’t go back and change his past but he can free himself in the present. A divorce would be a good start.

Poor Myra.

“Are you still headed to Reno?” Eddie asks.

“That’s where the dream is taking me.”

“Your dream their nightmare.”

This gets no response. Not even a chuckle or a playful shove. It’s not Eddie’s A game but it at least warranted some kind of reaction.

“Nothing? Rich, talk to me. Insult me. Something. You’re freaking me out.”

“I’m freaking me out.”

The others are just far enough away to not hear but they’re noticing the lack of witty banter to the scene. Bev cocks her head to the side and says something to Ben.

“Why’d you kiss me?” Richie asks.

“I don’t know!” Eddie then hushes as it looks like the others are gathering, “I panicked. I thought maybe you’d be stuck like that forever and you’d never make another shitty joke or say you fucked someone’s mom or-“

Eddie takes a deep breath. If Richie never snapped out of it then he might as well be a floating corpse. Eddie thought that never hearing Richie give him shit ever again would be a blessing but that would be wrong. Even now, as Richie sits there in silence Eddie almost feels like his heart is breaking. He wants desperately for him to say something. Anything.

I missed you, asshole. Eddie realizes it quietly and only to himself.

Eddie puts his hand in Richie’s knee.

“I would have done anything to wake you up,” he admits, “You had puked  earlier and I kissed you. That is literally the nastiest thing but I still-“

“I watched you die!” Richie starts off as a scream but it cracks at the end into a whimper.

The others swim over as quickly as possible. Bev gets there first. She places a hand on Richie’s.

“You saw it too,” she confirms without question.

Richie starts crying and Eddie cautiously puts an arm around him. Eddie is surprised by how openly Richie leans into it. He’s fucking sobbing into Eddie’s shirt like a kid. Eddie holds him tighter.

Of course Richie saw things. Why hadn’t Eddie considered that? It was clear that Bev had been affected deeply from the dead lights. Why would Richie be any different?

“It’s okay,” Bev continues, “it didn’t happen. It can’t happen now..”

“Yeah, Rich,” Bill is set right in front of him, “It’s over.”

“We won,” Mike adds.

“I can’t unsee it!” Richie muffles his cries in Eddie’s shirt, “I can’t!”

“Hey,” Eddie says gently, “Rich, I’m here.”

Rich looks up. He feels so massive huddled against Eddie like this. Their height difference becomes palpable. He takes Richie in, eyes red and wide. Eddie brushes the tear streaks on Richie’s cheeks.

“I’m right here,” Eddie says again before smiling, “you see me right? Or do you need your old Coke bottle glasses back?”

Richie laughs.

“Nah, life’s better without them.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, that way when I’m at home, your mom is out of focus. Ugly is better blurry.”

Eddie shoves Richie off the rock and he splashes into the water. Despite the joke at his dead mother’s expense, Eddie smiles a bit.

—-

Bev knocks on Richie’s door quietly. Her hair is still wet, at least this time it’s from a proper shower. She’s walking around barefoot. She only had the one pair of shoes for this trip and she promptly tossed them into the garbage when they all returned to the bed and breakfast. She had thrown away every article of clothing she'd worn during the final confrontation. It felt refreshing, like losing an old skin.

It takes Richie a minute to respond. He answers shirtless and his hair tousled. Bev realizes that Richie does have a certain attractiveness about him. It was something that she hadn’t understood as a child looking into the future but she does now. Laughter had aged him well and his height gave him presence. His smile had grown to be his best feature. It’s a shame the smile Bev sees now isn't genuine.

“Hey, Beverly,” Richie says, “I got to admit; this is a very poorly timed pre dinner booty call.”

“Beep beep, Richie,” she responds with a sense of endearment, “Or don’t. I actually want to talk if you can stomach the maturity.”

Richie sighs, half jokingly and the other half legitimately. Still he opens the door and Bev walks in. She takes a seat on the bed cross legged.

“Bev,” Richie smirks “I thought you were a married woman.”

“Not for long,” she states plainly, “I think divorce will suit me better.”

“Wow. Really? Shit, I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t do it sooner. Or that I married that asshole at all really.”

She pats the spot next to her. Richiel acts accordingly but when he sits down he’s so stiff and awkward. Bev reaches for his hand again like she did at the quarry and he tenses.

“I don't know if this will help but just listen,” Bev starts slowly, “The vision that hit me the hardest was watching Bill’s death.”

“Bev, I don’t know if-“

She tightens the grip on his hand. She can feel his pulse in her fingers. She already knows how fruitless it is to avoid the fear. The more you try not to think about it the more you think about it. For years she had to satiate the fear by talking to her therapist but back then she had no context. She could never fully process it all.

“Bill is drinking. A lot. He’s alone. He throws a laptop out of the window and screams. He drinks more. He looks at a bookshelf lined with his own work. He lights it on fire and then he… he passes out before he can douse the fire.”

Her hand has created a death grip on Richie’s. She knows her eyes have glassed over and even now she’s sweating. It’s a secondhand memory but it behaves like it’s her own. It’s too hot now and her chest feels tight. She swears she can smell burning paper and whiskey.

“Bill burned.”

“Bev, stop,” Richie says alarmed.

Bev takes a deep breath and plants herself back into her body. She relaxes her grip and apologetically cradles Richie’s bright red hand.

“I never understood it,” she swallows back the anxiety, “and I can’t even remember how the others went now except Stanley of course. God, poor Stanley.. and his wife.”

She doesn’t cry. Not because she can’t but because it doesn’t come naturally to her. Tears were a thing of rage. Here in this moment she is as composed as ever. Wherever Stanley’s wife may be, Bev sends out a momentary wish of peace to her.

“I saw It kill Eddie,” Richie begins, “it was right before I woke up from the lights. Fucker stabbed Eds right at his moment, yknow? He was so proud of himself. He thought he killed It.”

Bev watches him closely and stays still. If he needs to he can bruise her fingers. It’s the only time Bev will let another man bruise her ever again.

“We won in that scenario too,” Richie’s eyes go glassy too, “but Eddie didn’t make it. And you guys made me leave him there. You made me.”

Bev says nothing. Hearing and seeing someone else go through what she did doesn’t feel good but it does create a certain solidarity. She was always willing to die for her friends but as tear drops from Richie’s far away gaze an even softer spot is carved out for him in her heart.

“I can’t handle it. I think about him all the time. I keep seeing him everywhere. I go over our initials at the kissing bridge. He’ll never know about that. All this time I thought I didn’t want him to. I was wrong.”

Oh, Richie her heart breaks.

“I drink. Bourbon. I need it for courage. I never had enough courage. I throw rope over a support beam and and line up a chair. I keep drinking. I cry. I throw up. I drink more. I step onto the chair.”

“Richie,” Bev tries to pull him back.

“He’s dead,” Richie’s voice is so small.

“No. No, honey, he’s alive.”

Richie blinks a few times and seems to come back. He wipes his eyes with his wrist.

“You never said anything,” Bev isn’t accusing only bewildered.

“To be fair,” Richie half laughs, “I just saw it today. A few hours of silence seems pretty normal.”

Bev bites her lip.

“No, sweetie,” she tries to be tactful, “I meant- the kissing bridge?”

Richie goes completely pale and then laughs nervously. Bev knows what it’s like to keep secrets. God knows Tom kept her in the business of secrets long enough. Of course coming out as a victim of abuse and coming out aren’t really the same thing. Still that expression is familiar. It’s not like she hasn’t had a friend or two figure out the indoor sunglasses and out of season long sleeves.

“It’s okay,” Bev assures him.

“It’s- it’s not, I didn’t mean-“

Bev remembers her friends insisting that she leave. She remembers the legal information, the list of domestic abuse hotlines . She remembers the offers for doctor visits and a guest bed. She remembers with a heavy heart how she pushed all that a way and lost those friends.

You can’t make someone process something if they’re not ready. You’ll just drive them away.

“You don’t have to say anything,” she continues, “Just know that I love you and I’m here, all right?”

Richie hugs her so tight and so suddenly that she almost falls back. She hugs him back with equal force. It feels so nice to be held like this and not be afraid of the next moment.

Before Richie pulls away entirely he plants a soft kiss on her forehead.

“Thanks, Bev.”

[musicallisto]

Hi! May I please have a marauders, MCU and blades of light and shadow match-up? I'm straight, she/her. I'm a ravenclaw and an INFP, I'm introverted but pretty friendly and outgoing once you get to know me. I love reading,my favorite genres are fantasy and poetry. I tend to daydream quite a lot and have a tendency to overthink stuff, I can also be a tad melodramatic at times. People often come to me for advice or to vent! (1/2)

I Ship You With...

Remus Lupin

okay you two would be the cutest and most affectionate couple - also the most blushy one

it wouldn’t help that the others (James and Sirius, especially) would spend the first days teasing the hell out of Moony for finding himself a girlfriend

“oh, he’s all grown up now” “Sirius” “look at our baby, James! can you believe how fast time flies?” “Sirius Black” “shh. let me pretend you’re still a little boy” “SIRIUS”

(they’re obviously incredibly happy for the both of you. you deserve & love each other so much, and you’re a pair of nerds that they love to watch snuggle together by the fire when you think no one else is looking)

you’d exchange books that you love and have the other read them, then discuss them - most of the time it would end up in frenzied conversations until two and a half in the morning where you gush about the characters and the worldbuilding and you sigh dreamily at the romance and the magic of it all, until he slyly reminds you that nothing is imaginary in the magic world

you’d shyly come to him one day and ask if he knows any reliable and truthful books about his... furry little problem (as you’ve learned to call it with the other boys, but really you don’t like that denomination because it implies that Remus is problematic), because you want to learn more about how to deal with it when it arises and how to keep him and everyone around safe, and you mostly trust books to give you this kind of knowledge. he’s deeply touched by your request, and although he tries to keep his composure and give you a list of works that resonated with him (though he doesn’t read too much about werewolves. it’s still difficult to handle the reality of it all), you can tell by his reddened cheeks and his fumbling words that it’s the most thoughtful sign of affection anyone has ever shown towards him

dates in Hogsmeade! what was at first strictly a friendly gathering for the entire group in the period preceding christmas remained a friendly escapade when you got together with Remus... but also the rest of the Marauders learned to give you a little space every time you go down to the village and leave you to frolick, as Sirius abjectly calls it, in the colorfully-lit streets.

you grab butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks (it will invariably be way too sugary for your liking, but seeing Remus’s white, creamy mustache after he dipped his lips in the drink is always worth it), as many sweets as you can carry in Honeydukes (most times it requires more than one bag and a few magic tricks to be able to transport them all), and end the day walking hand in hand in the main streets of the village, snow gently covering your hair and shoulders and engulfing the two of you in a winter wonder. his fingers and yours always tense when your steps bring you closer to the Shrieking Shack; but you press his hand, and when he’s more restless than usual or the full moon approaches you press a few feather-light kisses to his knuckles. you’re here and you’re not going anywhere. for that day and for that night, at least, everything is going to be okay.

Bruce Banner

it takes him more than ages to ask you out. decades. centuries! MILLENIA

and meanwhile absolutely everyone with a pair of eyes can see how dumbstruck he gets whenever you walk in the room, and how his every internal organ stops when you talk to him. in his eyes, you’re a paragon of confidence and coolness (which actually you’re convinced you aren’t, because you’re also a blabbering mess whenever you have to talk to him), and he’s... well, he’s only himself. some kind of STEM nerd. also, on occasion, the Incredible Hulk. no big deal? YES VERY BIG DEAL

but in reality, it is not big deal for you. he seems to forget every so often that he is a doctor and that someone with several PhD’s doesn’t exactly qualify as a STEM nerd in your mind (maybe at least its most powerful form). and even beyond that, he is an incredibly caring soul who’s constantly putting others before him, and it’s mesmerizing and refreshing to just sit on a chair in his lab, reading a novel, with him working on some new solutions, listening to the buzz of the kilns and the lapping of distilled water and peroxides in their testing tubes. you get a sense of peace when you watch him work that you never seem to find anywhere else, and in no one else’s presence.

now obviously Tony (it always has to be Tony) can’t BEAR anymore all this tension between his two best associates (that’s how he calls his friends when he’s not drunk enough), and is practically begging the both of you to make a move or at least talk it out and resolve all of this electricity. which you’d rather die than do, because he’s Tony Stark, he can’t imagine the immensity of the humiliation that would slap you in the face if you attempted to confess your feelings to anyone (especially Bruce!), but you can and you know.

after a few more failed attempts, Tony decides to take the matter in his own hands. nothing in this world will ever get done without his help, he swears!

at first he tries to convince the both of you, separately, to go to a mystery blind date at Luna Park, on Coney Island. you both vigorously decline. Tony has had brillian ideas in the past, but putting yourselves out there to spend a day with a stranger and possibly find love with them? ridiculous. that’s when Tony changes plans: now he’s inviting the both of you (still separately, without mentioning anything jointly) to spend the day with him at the fun fair. it will be fun, he says, just an afternoon eating cotton candy and rifle shooting with his friend. that sounds fishy enough coming from him. it’s a miracle (or maybe a consequence of Tony’s incessant supplications) that you both accept.

when you see Bruce, and Bruce sees you, arrive from both sides of the street to the meeting point you both agreed on with Tony, you start to smell the con-trick. obviously, you shouldn’t have put this past Tony Stark. now you’re both stuck with the other and you have nowhere to look at to distract yourself from his shy, adorable eyes and timid smile. of course.

well. now that you’re here, standing like idiots, not daring to say anything to the other, in front of the entrance of Luna Park, you’d rather make the most of it. chase the butterflies that pierce your throat whenever you catch a glimpse of his excited voice, extinguish the flames that arise through all your body when he puts his hand on the small of your back - then promptly moves it.

the ferris wheel seems to call you. tugging on bruce’s arm, you lead him to the attraction with more enthusiasm than you imagined you would have when the day started. New York City is always a wonder to look at from the heights. Bruce lets out a nervous laugh, but follows you anyway. it’s not like anything is bound to go wrong, right?

but of course. you both were carefree enough to forget that the entire ordeal had been orchestrated by none other than Tony Stark. when your cabin reaches the top of the wheel, and your face lights up at the sight of the sea, Tony’s voice rings out from the speakers at the exact same moment as your cabin comes to an abrupt halt.

“your attention please. due to regrettable circumstances, the ride will be stopping for approximatively thirty minutes. please enjoy the view, whether it is the bay or the person in front of you. later.”

suddenly you want to grab him by the collar and throw his smug little smile out the cabin, headfirst into the Atlantic.

“I’m so sorry,” rings out Bruce’s voice in the tightness of the cabin, his embarrassment true. “I shouldn’t have agreed to this and now I got you in this mess...”

“You didn’t get me in any mess. I agreed too. I guess...” you swallow hard, the faintest of smiles coming to rest on your lips. “I guess we’ll have to make good use of this time, then.”

Tyril

it takes a lot for him to open up to you: patience, efforts, gentle smiles and light touches on his shoulder, good manners, and respect of his past, privacy, and boundaries. a little like approaching a wounded animal in the woods. you have to gain his trust, first. it’s not the easiest task you’ve ever had to tackle, but hey, it can’t be harder than recollecting the evil shadow shards to stop the harmful influence of the murderous, evil, shadow court over your world, right?

(it’s almost harder, actually! you never would have guessed. but that elf has so many walls around his soul, and you have to scale every one of them with your bare hands.)

it’s worth it, though. it’s always worth it to see his smile light up the forest like a thousand fairly lights, and the tenderness of such a beautiful soul, that has lost so much, come alive every time you embrace him.

you see the blue flame of sadness in his eyes when he looks at you, and he sees the image of Kaya, the one he cared for so deeply and he lost so much time ago. it still pains him because he feels like it might be his fault, that he didn’t work hard enough to save her from the evil of the shadow court. his worst fear, although he will never admit it, is that another of the innocent people he loves most will succumb to the darkness and he will watch it unravel, powerless. but you assure him that it will not happen. you are too strong-minded to be corrupted.

he teaches you how to fight, and it’s an unexpected moment of intimacy between the two of you, getting to know each other better than ever, with each other’s strengths and weaknesses

you only ever see him be truly happy when he’s surrounded by the lights of the fae, that you randomly stumble upon in the middle of the deadwood, and that reflect a thousand colors on his beautiful, upturned face. at that precise moment, you can swear you’ve never seen someone more radiant, and someone more in love

when his eyes finally fall onto yours, his look of utter adoration does not disminish, quite the opposite actually; and he holds your gaze as if you were much more of a wonder than anything that’s happening in this kaleidoscopic clearing. your breath hitches in your throat, and a pink fire blossoms in your chest; it is here, in the most desolated of places in the entire country, that you discover love and love discovers you for the first time

[nomorelonelydays]

AAAAAH I DID NOT REALIZE THIS TURNED OUT AS LONG AS IT DID SHIT WELL: and got in the way of everybody playing their best (which would never be the case), especially since G told a few people that he’d be leaving for “Russia” (*cough cough* he’s meeting the witch off the coast of Florida, so he’s close enough to draw the other Mer away from Sid, but far enough away to give him time to get to the witch) the morning after locker cleanout. Predictably, he gets cornered by Flower, who calls him out

he’s leaving to do that plan to help Sid, but he’s gonna need Flower and whomever else to say whatever bullshit is necessary to convince Sidney to swim to his sea witch at noon in three days, and absolutely not mention him while doing it. Flower just barely looks comforted by any of what Geno says, but agrees to it, and makes him swear to not be a fucking idiot about whatever he’s about to pull. Geno feels a little scummy when he agrees, knowing he’s full of shit, but whatever, this is important 

(more under cut)

The days pass, and after Flower managed to pull some explanation out of his ass and convince Sid that, if he got into the ocean on this day at this time, he’d be okay, pretty much all of the pens decided to go with Sid up to Nova Scotia as moral support, while, Geno goes back to the witch, who worriedly asks “you’re sure?” just a few too many times before he’s charmed to exude Sidney, and is immediately dragged under the water. Meanwhile, just as the other pens start walking down to the ColeHarbour coast, Sid’s phone starts ringing in his pocket, and he gives it a wary look as he sees ALEX OVECHKIN flash across the screen, but answers anyways, and is met with very prompt words that sound like they’re being spoken by Nicklas Backstrom. “Sidney Crosby, you’re on land right now, yes?” And Sidney responds that he is (and puts the phone on speaker), and then Backstrom’s just like, “From a coast near the Baltic Sea, I can hear the Northern Kingdom rejoice at the willful return of theirlost prince, Sidney.” 

He pauses, at which point the “does anyone else want to admit to being a Mer while we’re at it?!?!” minor-freakout happens in the background of Sidney’s end of the line. Quickly, though, Backstrom explains that Geno’s probably in danger. When Ovi had told him about Geno and the witch, it seemed more like Sid had gotten some strain of Mer-specific illness during playoffs and Geno had just been trying to remedy it, but now, he’s sure that G had an impersonation charm cast onhim, and that’s who’s being taken back to the Northern Kingdom. 

Cue Sid all-out sprinting down the dock, shucking off his clothes, and swimming faster than he ever has while his emotions of love, panic, and fury rage at each other in his head. A large number of Mathias’ men find Geno about halfway through the first hour, and an hour after that, he’s being escorted into the palace of the Northern Kingdom, and desperately trying not to lose his shit – trying to buy more time for Sid. He hasn’tspoken a word since he was found, but Sidney could be one stubborn fucker if he wanted to be, and Geno’s pretty sure that if he had decided to return to the ocean out of some sick sense of obligation and duty, he would’ve dished out the silent treatment for at least a day or two. He meets the royal family, and Sid’s fiancee, and he has to fight to keep down the rage that bubbles up inside him, because no one has the right to cage Sidney up or tear him away from everything he’s come to love about

gravely that impersonating a royal is punishable by death. Geno shrugs, because he kind of figured. Taken aback by the gesture, as he wraps a chain around Geno’s wrists, he asks who he is, that he would shrug at a sentence like that. Geno responds that, “As Sidney fell in love with land, I fell in love with Sidney.” Mathias regards him with an air of something, maybe understanding, or respect, before escorting him back to the king, and explaining what happened. The king orders for the searchparties to be sent out again, and in regards to Geno, he rules for him to remain chained in the throne room to wait out the expiration of the charm. Because suspense is necessary, the real Sidney bursts into the throne room, guards and Mathias in tow, right as the charm wears off and Geno’s gills close up. 

His father begins firmly reprimanding him and emphasizing that this is what happens when princes decide to act rashly, but Sid is freaking out. After a very undignified shouting match, hisvoice is harsh and broken, and he pleads that he’ll never show the slightest opposition to the kingdom’s will again – for the rest of his life, be a loyal and dutiful ruler, if he could only be permitted to try and save Geno’s life. The king considers it, but gives the choice to Mathias. 

Now, Mathias knows in his soul that he and Sidney are not in love, and knows the strife the prince’s absence has caused him, but that doesn’t mean he hasn’t always hoped for Sidney to be happy. He gives hisorder, “Save him,” and Sid is tearing the chains from Geno’s wrists and hauling him out the door. Breaking the surface is already difficult enough with how deep under the water the Kingdom is situated, but beyond that, a storm has been raging into the afternoon, jostling them roughly before and after the two surface. Sid manages to get them onto some nameless patch of land, but knows that Geno isn’t breathing. 

So, I think that Sidney, in exchange for not being able to sing, has always been able to control the winds – has even used that power to displace the water clogging the lungs of sailors who’d fallen into the ocean, and has better results with that than with CPR – so he tries. He tries so hard but maybe the storm winds are too violent or the air is too wet with rain but Geno’s lungs won’t give and his heart won’t beat and Sidney is shattered. His own heartbeat taunts him, pulsing against his eardrums, louder than the thunder above. He looks at Geno for a moment, until he can’t take it any more. Then, right as he grasps Geno’s body and the first sob leaves his throat, a crack of electricity bursts from his chest, and soon enough after, Geno’s gasping and spitting up saltwater into Sid’s hair. Everything is fine. There’s so much crying, but the good kind. They make out a lot. Mathias swears his alliance to the Northern Kingdom on the condition that Sidney be allowed to live out his days however he wishes. Sid carries Geno back to the pens and they all cry. Nicklas Backstrompowers down half a bottle of imported wine because no way is he dealing with another team’s shit. 

Years pass. Sidney and Geno get married on the beach, and everything is beautiful and elegant (and G totally keeps the picture of himself in his tux, holding Sidney – shirtless, and with his amazing fucking Mer tail – bridal style with wedding cake smeared on both of their faces). And they all lived happily ever after :) HOLY FUCJK SORRY FOR LEAVING THE MAGNA CARTA IN YOUR ASKBOX OH MY GOD 

i feel like i just watched a movie THANK YOU

[wordcreatr]

You know, I wouldn’t say I have terrible luck, but it definitely trends toward being consistently on the poor side. I wouldn’t say it feels like the universe has it in for me, but it’s definitely trying to annoy me.

It’s like that time back in 1996 when a guy I knew, who had won an Emmy for post-production work on the hit show Northern Exposure, called me up out of the blue to move to L.A. to be his assistant. He and some investors were buying a family-owned state of the art post-production studio that was in bankruptcy. It was a huge break for me, so I left grad school, packed up my hamster car, and moved out there. Immediately upon arriving, he told me, “So let me get you up to speed. The financing fell through last week.” Turned out his wealthy main investor’s elderly mother controlled the company’s purse strings and she shot the deal down. It also turned out I no longer had a job.

Why had he not called me to let me know before I left Arizona I had asked in dismay.

“I decided you needed to be out here anyway,” he replied. And that was the start of my L.A. misadventure from hell. I’ll have to write about that period of my life sometime because it only got crazier.

Yeah, anyway, it’s just been one of those kinds of weeks as far as lost opportunity and general mayhem, just on a far smaller scale.

Welcome to hell

First, my house’s air conditioning was on the fritz and the temperature in Arizona is only slightly below hellish, though full-blown hell is arriving next week when we are supposed to hit 106°F (41°C for my international readers). The air conditioner was blowing warm air the day I called a recommended AC guy who does side work for cash. When he showed up after he got off work the next day, my unit was back to blowing cold air, but I figured he should take a look at it anyway because it was obviously not working right.

After inspecting it, the repair guy told me my AC unit was at least 30 years old (maybe older since the house was built in 1980), and he began to describe what kind of condition it was in. Have you ever seen a really wizened old man who is bent practically in half with osteoporosis? A man who is so frail and rickety it’s a miracle he’s still upright in a light breeze? The one with no teeth, who is practically blind, and who has to wear adult diapers? Yeah, apparently, that was the equivalent of my air conditioning unit.

The AC guy showed me photos — and it wasn’t pretty. In fact, with the exposed wiring due to the plastic having been baked off them by the relentless desert sun, it’s a wonder my house hadn’t burned down. He showed me pics of one battered part and said if it went out, the AC would either not turn on or it wouldn’t turn off, which would kill my electricity bill — both would suck.

He said he could get me a new unit for the discounted price of $4,600 cash or make repairs to get me through the summer. Since it’s been almost a year since I’ve had a proper job, I went with option B. My plan was to postpone replacement until I could afford a new AC. So he came back the next day and got to work. When he was done, he came into the house and turned on the air. The blower was working but the condenser wouldn’t kick on. He said it might take a bit. So we waited. And waited. Finally, he went back up on the roof and after ten minutes he came back in and we waited and waited, our hands periodically reaching up to the vent in the ceiling that stubbornly blew out warm air. Nada.

“Bad news,” he said. “I think your condenser has just died.”

Well, that was inconvenient.

We began talking about a new unit, and I said I’d have to think about it because $4,600 cash was kind of steep. After all, I was only working occasional freelance jobs and doing rideshare driving, which pays a pittance. As much as I hated to, I was probably going to have to go with a more expensive company so I could put it on a credit card and pay it off in installments. I hate doing that because while I use my cards all the time, I pay them off immediately. But I didn’t want to raid my bank account and leave myself low on available cash. After he left, the damn AC blower was in full zombie mode and wouldn’t shut off even when I turned it off. It just kept blowing warm air, so I eventually had to turn it off at the circuit breaker.

After speaking with a rep from Integrity Air Conditioning, it was going to cost me $5,400 (after rebates) to get a new unit, so I reluctantly agreed. This sucked. I also needed new tires for my car because the rideshare driving had accelerated the wear on them. And I needed an oil change. And I needed to get my BBQ grill fixed.

I had just been thinking that life was going okay and I’d be fine as long as I kept my spending low. Apparently, the universe had decided that now was the perfect time to put a whammy on my wallet.

Fuck.

I’m melting! Mellllllting!

Meanwhile, in the absence of modern AC, I’ve actually been doing okay with the heat. The older I get, the more I turn into my dad. As the temperature has climbed, when the AC was working, I hadn’t even had it on when the Houseguest wasn’t home. When my dad was alive, he kept the house so hot my brother would freak out when he came over to visit. “Oh, my God, it’s like hell in here. How does he live like this? It’s so damn hot!”

Unlike me, the Houseguest hasn’t been faring well with no AC, and she has been lying around listlessly. I feel bad and check on her occasionally to make sure I don’t need to summon an ambulance for heat prostration. To be honest, though, because I don’t want to dip into my cash reserves, if I lived here by myself, I would have been inclined to tough it out through the summer without AC, but I can’t bear the constant whinging.

To be fair, she’s also been battling insomnia, which has taken its toll. I see her emerge from her room, unrested, and the oppressive heat hasn’t made it any easier, and she’s at the snapping point. It doesn’t help her mood that the heat doesn’t seem to faze me. I see the barely subdued madness lurking in her eyes.

The kitchen is a no-cook zone

Because of the unrelenting heat, the Houseguest has been bugging me to get the grill seen to so we can cook outside under the shade of the patio. We’d been grilling a lot earlier in the year, but the never-ending propane tank finally ran out of gas, and I’d been meaning for a while to go up to Home Depot for a new tank. After I finally did,  I was unscrewing the old tank from the regulator, and I think I did something wrong and jacked up the regulator. When I connected the new tank, I heard hissing gas and could smell it. I thought I had a faulty tank and took it back, but the replacement tank made the same noise with the same smell. Using soapy water, I looked for bubbles to try and discover the leak, but no luck.

The Houseguest mentioned going up to get a new regulator for the grill and wanted to know when we could grill again, and I said I didn’t know. I began listing my expenses and mentioned the AC had to be taken care of, then my tires, and then a new regulator for the grill — which I wasn’t even sure was the problem.

She had wilted onto her bed and lay there languidly looking defeated.

“But we have to be able to grill,” she said weakly. “It’s too hot to use the oven.”

The oven might as well be the furnaces of hell as far as the Houseguest is concerned

I told her I wasn’t sure if I bought that argument. I mean, unless I was foolish enough to cook with the oven door open, I kind of figure it should be okay, right? How hot can it get? Turn the oven on. Put the food in. Set the timer. Walk out of the room. Come back when the timer goes off. I didn’t see the issue. She was just staring at me like I was a simpleton. She has a Ph.D. and tends to discuss things analytically. As I began calmly explaining why I thought the regulator was the lowest priority purchase item, her head suddenly snapped up and she shot me a look.

“We are grilling, motherfucker!”

Okay, I was slightly taken aback. The Houseguest is normally rather easy-going, cultured, and well-spoken. There was no anger, just the no-nonsense bark I’d associate with a drill instructor. However, I got the impression that if the heat had not sapped all of her energy, I might have ended up in a bloody heap on the floor.  I retreated to my Man Cave and chalked up the outburst to the heat. Plus, she’s got some fiery Persian blood in her.

Freelancing sucks

So, as these bills piled up this week, it reinforced that I’m not bringing in tons of money. It’s been almost a year since I’ve had a proper job. I traveled for a bit, and I’ve been slumming doing rideshare driving for Uber and Lyft part-time. I’ve also been picking up some freelance projects here and there. All with the goal of working (slowly and painfully) on my book.

I’ve done a fair bit, but there’s still a fair bit left to do. Purposefully, I’ve been holding off getting a real job and have been actively trying to get freelance gigs. One thing I’ve learned, I suck at chasing down freelance work. But I figured if I lived frugally, I could stretch out my underemployment out quite awhile, as long as I didn’t incur any real expenses. Like all the ones I racked up this week, which was a metaphorical kick in the balls.

But that was okay. I still had a freelance project I was supposed to start last month that would pay off a chunk of the AC cost.  However, everything is up in the air because the client has a new full-time copywriter.

Fuck.

But that was still okay because another agency had contacted me for a small project. Their content director liked my stuff. In fact, she had me come in to talk about working for them part-time, but as a proofreader. It’s kind of boring work, but it wouldn’t demand any of my limited creativity. And it would be a regular income so I could keep writing. I was stoked. And everyone I met was super nice. Things were looking up!

And then right after I put down a three grand deposit on my new AC unit, I got an email late Friday afternoon. It was from the new agency’s HR person informing me that the content director had departed the company that afternoon. She said I was still in their freelance pool and I might hear from some of the account managers. I asked about the proofreading gig. She had no idea, but it seemed to me my new part-time gig was probably dead in the water.

Just like L.A., I was so close.

Fuck my life.

The Universe is going to make me go out and get a real job, isn’t it?

If karma is a thing, I must have been a real asshole in another life. Oh well, as the old man used to say, ‘If I didn’t have bad luck, I wouldn’t have any at all.’  But if this keeps up, I may need to sacrifice a goat at the next full moon.

At least I’ll have a new air conditioning unit by tomorrow. I just hope they don’t drop it through my roof.

Update

The new AC is going in as I post this.

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Sometimes everything will work out as long as one thing doesn't happen. And of course, it's going to happen because the universe has it out for me. You know, I wouldn't say I have terrible luck, but it definitely trends toward being consistently on the poor side.