#sacred and terrible saturdays

[vorakh]

🌫️ SCARED AND TERRIBLE SATURDAY 🌫️

“Twenty years have passed since the Lund sisters took a one way trip to Charlottesjäl, leaving behind nothing but their absence…„

The Sacred and Terrible Air group reading has begun! Having the first chapter discussion on next Saturday March the 23rd all day on the Pale Acceleration for Dummies server. Everyone is super welcome (:

[ghost-proofbaby]

kissing lessons, pt. 2

summary: you and robin face the music that maybe the kissing lessons aren't just lessons after all.

pairing: robin buckley x fem!reader

warnings: even more sapphic yearning than the first one (in my opinion), lots of religious imagery scattered sporadically, and a lots of hints/passing mentions of homophobia (no talk of violence, etc.) that was normal in the 80s. there's even more discussion of reader conforming to the usual and dating a boy. once again, reader is explicitly female.

wc: 3.3k+

a/n: i cannot explain how healing writing this has been. shout out to younger me for surviving the way my own experience ended with a lot more heartbreak - you deserved a robin buckley, baby ghost. and thank you to everyone who read the first one and was so very kind. i am eternally grateful <3

part 1 here

It was your own damn fault, probably. 

Robin may have been the one to ignite the fire, so prettily asking to start having those godforsaken kissing lessons, but you’d be the one clutching a bottle of gasoline. You’d been the one fanning the flames with each arrangement you’d insist upon, Saturday after Saturday always being spent one predictable way: kissing your best friend. 

In your bedroom, in her living room, behind the slide at the park. 

Mid-afternoon, early mornings, in the dead of night. 

Any time that you can find an excuse for it, your lips were attached to Robin Buckley’s, chipping away at your own demise, and it was all your fault. 

There wasn’t a handbook for this, though. There was no pamphlet to explain all the butterflies that would erupt in your stomach every time she’d smile at you slyly just before she’d lean it to initiate the kisses, no how-to for stopping the shake in your hands as you’d cradle thighs and cheeks alike as if they were the most sacred of sacrifices, no survival guide for all the heartache that now haunts your every waking moment when you think about the smell of her perfume. You had no one who could explain away your obsession with the taste of passion fruit lip smackers these days. 

You were in love with your best friend, and it sort of felt like some type of terrible shipwreck done by your own recklessness. 

And if she felt even an ounce of the same way, you couldn’t see it. You simply couldn’t allow yourself to read any further into the brushes of her hand in the hallways that had grown more consistent. If you daydreamed too long about the way she’d been so overly supportive of you wearing skirts to school more often these days, you’d quite possibly self-implode. It was all a dangerous game, a hopeless drowning in the middle of the Atlantic, and you were just letting it happen. 

“Why was that Connor guy talking to you in the hall today?”

And if you read too much into what you so desperately wanted to describe as jealousy in her tone right now, you’d certainly combust in the blink of an eye. 

It wasn’t even a Saturday – it was a Friday. Saturdays were the holy days, the days in which you could guarantee you’d taste her all over your tongue and be allowed to gather all your offerings in the form of worshiping whispers and guiding movements as she straddled your lap. The rest of the week, the two of you were nothing more than the best of friends. On Fridays, you should be nothing but two girls who find innocent and platonic solace in one another. 

It’s just hard to do when all you’re capable of thinking about is how soft the skin of her neck was nearly a week ago, when your lips had trailed down to her pulse point in such feathery light brushes. 

“Oh!” you sit up from where you’d been spread out on her bed, looking up at her with sudden excitement as you watch her spin in her desk chair, “I forgot to tell you! Holy shit, you’re going to love this.” 

The moment it had happened, you’d started mentally counting down the moments until you’d have the chance to tell Robin of the awkward conversation. You can’t believe you’d forgotten about it so easily once you’d gotten the girl alone. 

She pauses her spinning immediately, blinking rapidly as she was clearly dizzy, “What do you mean? Why am I going to love it?” 

“He asked me out to milkshakes.”

You wait. And wait. And wait. Nearly quaking with all the anticipation for your best friend to burst out into laughter with you over the irony of it all. 

You just keep waiting. 

The laughter never escapes Robin, her face stoic as she doesn’t even smile. All the giggles and rolling of eyes you’d expected to share is completely erased with that look on her face currently. A look you almost mistake as hurt, a look that reaches far beyond jealousy.

The look of someone standing amongst the wreckage of an abandoned ship. 

When she finally speaks again, with deflated shoulders and the corners of her mouth down-turned, it’s soft enough you almost miss it. “Did you say yes?” 

It was the one question you hadn’t been expecting – you’d assumed it had been a given that you’d turn the poor boy down. 

“Obviously not,” you snort, uneasy as you rifle through your mind, a sudden desperation to make Robin smile or to lighten the mood immediately rearing its head. 

“Obviously?” 

This conversation is very much not going the way you had seen it play out in your head. Robin’s missing all of her lines, none of her expressions lining with the directorial vision you’d been gifted with when the moment had happened. 

No saccharine laughter, no sweet joy. None of the sugared reactions are rotting your teeth out. 

Instead, there’s just a strange and hollow ache. The vacant expression of Robin’s face that twitches ever so slightly with something more below the surface, and a tension in the air that wraps around your throat tightly. 

“Yeah, I mean,” you choke out, trying to stave off your discomfort, “We both know how I feel about milkshake dates. And besides, he wanted to go tomorrow, and we already have plans-”

“You could’ve said yes,” she blurts out. As soon as the words fall in the space between you two, she’s wide-eyed, staring at you like a scared deer caught up in your headlights, “Our plans- They-” she pauses, and takes a deep breath that almost looks painful, “You could have said yes if you wanted to. I’d live. Plus, it’d give you a chance to put our lessons to use.” 

No sweetness, only a sour on your tongue that makes your face twist. “Why would I use our lessons on Connor from pottery?” 

Why would I ever want to kiss somebody that isn’t you? 

The thought easily makes you sick to your stomach. The lips of someone who isn’t Robin Buckley pressed to yours, the hands of someone who isn’t your best friend tracing the curves of your body. You think you’d rather die. 

“I dunno,” Robin is mumbling now, almost looking ashamed. The last thing you’d wanted to do was shame her. You’d just wanted to share a laugh with your best friend, “That was sort of the point, right? You wanted to get good at kissing-”

“We,” you correct her.

“What?”

“We wanted to get good at kissing. You can’t tell me there’s no boys in the band that have asked you out or you’d have a chance to kiss. You’re…” Even as the words are ash in your mouth, sticking to the roof of your mouth and making it hard to breathe, you force it all out. The only words left are the truth, anyways, “Beautiful, Robs. You’re fucking stunning, and funny, and so kind. Who’s your Connor from poetry, hm?” 

It’s a dagger to the heart. It’s alcohol on a paper cut, salt in a throbbing wound. Every cliche and morbid pain in the books is racing through you at what you’ve just said. Asking her about boys is worse than simply accepting it as a hypothetical. Having to actually hear about boys chasing after the girl that’s occupied you irrevocably is worse than imagining them all. 

At least in your imagination, they could all be fumbling over their feet, falling to the dirt as Robin cackles and arrives straight to her original destination – you. At least in your imagination, you stand a chance. 

“God, no,” she scrunches her nose up, immediately standing from her chair, “Oh my God, no. Ew. I don’t- I’d never-” 

“You’d never?” you raise an eyebrow, watching as she nearly starts to pace. 

“We were talking about you!” she bursts out, arms flailing out beside her, spinning so she was stood right in front of you, “You and Colton-”

“Connor.”

“-and how you should go get milkshakes with him! You should’ve said yes, okay? You could say you have a boyfriend when you get to college if you’d said yes.” 

Boyfriend. A word that will never, ever leave your lips. Not just when it came to Connor – when it came to all the boys in your school. All the boys in your town. All the boys in the goddamn world. 

That word doesn’t fit. It’s too tight, too confining. Strangles you in all the wrong places and makes your chest constrict in the worst way. 

You don’t want a boyfriend. 

You want your best friend to stop pacing, you want your best friend to hold your hand, you want it to be Saturday and for your best friend to kiss your fucking face off.

Pathetic, only because you don’t think you’ll ever find the nerve to say it to her out loud. 

“Who cares if I have a boyfriend when I go to college?” you spit out, struggling to even say the damn word, “I could give two shits if I-”

“I care!” Robin is turning erratic, wild as she tugs at her hair and looks at you with such misplaced desperation. You don’t know what she wants from you – you can’t give her what she’s asking of you, “I care, because you deserve to have that normal experience. You should be out there, kissing boys and going on dates to share a milkshake and- and- and… not spending your Saturdays with me, hiding away and kissing me and sharing chapstick and making me feel all these stupid feelings-” 

She cuts off roughly, a small gasp leaving her lips as she realizes what she’s just said. 

Making me feel all these stupid feelings. 

“What do you mean by that?” you whisper, sharing at her, shocked, “What do you mean by stupid feelings-”

“Forget it.”

“No.” 

“Yes,” she pleads, taking a step back when you stand up in front of her, “Dear God, please forget I ever said that. I’m literally begging you.” 

Stupid feelings. 

What does she even define as stupid feelings? 

Is it that her heart races whenever you suggest another lesson? Is it that warmth that spreads head to toe every time you grab her hand casually? Is it all that pain with nowhere to go at the end of the day, when you bury your face in a pillow and scream out all the what-ifs you assume you’ll never explore in this lifetime? 

You think about your parents. The ones who are never home, or are oblivious in the kitchen as you shut your door and quickly return to your bed, where your best friend is awaiting you eagerly just to get her tongue down your throat. You think of Robin’s parents, who force her to go to church every Sunday, never realizing she can still taste the strawberry chapstick all over her lips come morning. Whispering all their prayers in the same tone she’d whispered your name the night before. You think about all the peers your age who spend their Saturday nights in diners, sharing milkshakes and planning their futures – their normal futures. 

White picket fence, a mid-size dog to run around the yard. Two and a half kids, and a wedding ring gleaming on the finger on their left hand directly connected to their heart. The same one that Robin always fiddles with while the two of you sit and do homework together, the same one Robin once slipped an old coin-machine ring onto as a joke when you were thirteen, cackling about some sort of marriage pact that had every adult in vicinity glaring at the two of you. 

All the things you can’t dream about. Because when you do, it’s never the nice boy your father points out at the grocery store. It’s never that boy your mother finds absolutely darling, who lives two houses down and has offered to mow your lawn numerous times. 

Every time you try to picture it, it’s with Robin. 

Her with a matching ring you’ve bought for a quarter, her lipstick staining the matching mug on your kitchen counter during a quiet morning. Kids with her freckles, kids with all her spunk. A dog she’d name something incredibly niche, and that you’d fight her on endlessly, but end up giving in simply because you love her. 

Whenever you try to look to the future, it’s with the girl before you, who has tears gathering in her lash line now. Embarrassment painting every inch of her exposed skin, and her chest stuttering with every gasping breath. 

Stupid feelings. You’d become entirely acquainted with stupid feelings, you just hadn’t realized that Robin had as well. 

“What do you mean by that, Robs?” your voice cracks, begging all but on your knees at this moment. Everything you could possibly want right in an arm’s reach. 

You don’t even need the picket fence or the dog. Kids could vanish right from the dream. The house could become a quaint apartment in the city. The morning coffee could be traded for peppermint tea. As long as the thing that never changes is her, you don’t really care where the visions lead. 

She says your name so softly, you nearly break down entirely. You want to hear it for the rest of your days. The way the shape of your name curls around her tongue and falls from her lips, “You should just forget I said anything, I mean it. Go home and call Connor-”

“Fuck Connor!” you suddenly raise your voice, so entirely done with all the boy talk. All the expectations and all the definitions of normal. Your finger on your left hand, connected directly to your heart, throbs. “I don’t want to share some half-melted milkshake with that… with that… idiot! I want to share it with the idiot in front of me right now. I don’t want to practice kissing on him, I want to practice with you. I don’t want him, and I don’t want that boy who bags groceries at Melvald’s, and I don’t-” 

Robin Buckley is the brave one. She shuts you up about all the ones you don’t want, by giving you the one thing you do want. 

Soft palms, soft lips. Gentle hesitation to soothe the scars of a future you never really cared for. Fruity lip balm that somehow perfectly matches airy perfume. 

She’s kissing you like her life depends on it. Like she’s feeling an ache in the joints of that finger connected to the heart, and she just can’t take it anymore. Like she loves you. Or at least likes you. 

And you’ll take what you can get when you reach up to grab onto her anywhere you can find. Bunching her shirt at her hip with your first, fingers curling around her forearm that’s connected to the hand cradling your cheek. You can’t possibly lean into it all enough; can’t press your lips any tighter against hers, can’t have any more of your limbs bumping into hers as you stumble backwards and onto her bed. 

She’s crawling over you, little puffs of breaths escaping between kisses, hovering above you with a halo of sunlight leaking in through her bedroom window. 

She looks like a God you don’t believe in, and one she can’t be spoon-fed to worship anymore. All holier notions are focused on you. Fingers trailing their way up under your shirt and hips bumping against yours as you both try to learn what to do with this new position. 

It’s better than your best friend seated in your lap, timidly moving her tongue. It’s nicer. 

“Stupid feelings,” you breathe out when she moves to pepper kisses on your cheek, on your jaw, on your neck, “Stupid fucking feelings.” 

“Sometimes, I wish we’d never started the lessons, you know?” she whispers when she pauses at your collarbone, peering up at you with those glossy blue eyes. Oceans deep, ready for your ship to roll right into. Ready for your ship to crash in. “It made all of this so much harder and complicated.” 

Your fingers slide into her hair, tugging at the sporadic pieces that you’d helped cut a year ago. The saddest excuse for layers ever, “Made what harder?” 

You want to hear her say it. You need to hear her say it. 

“Liking you.”

If hearts could burst, yours would be fluttering shreds behind your ribs. Nothing more than the aftermath of finally, finally, hearing those words fall from her lips. 

“You like me?” your cheeks ache immediately from your grin, so wide it occupies your entire face. You swear you can see its reflection in her eyes. 

Her head lifts and you see some of the fear still lingering behind her own smile, “Yeah, doofus. I like you. A lot, actually. And I just always assumed you liked that Cooper boy-”

“His name is Connor.”

“I know,” she laughs, face contorting as she bites back more giggles. It’s no use though, as her head falls forward and her forehead lands on the center of your chest, “I just- God, I sort of hated him. I heard him ask you out for the milkshake and I just wanted to punch the dude-”

“You heard?” you’re laughing now, head thrown back, “I’m sorry, you knew why I was talking to him, and you still tried to play all coy and ask me?” 

“Can you blame a girl for trying?” 

No. No, you really couldn’t. You can only imagine the ridiculous plans you’d elaborately conjure if you’d ever overheard a boy asking Robin out on a date. All the jealousy ploys and childish schemes, born out of all the sunshine she’s been instilling in you since the first day you’d met her. 

And imagining that is fine. But what you no longer have to imagine is a Robin who chooses you, the scenario in which you can simply grab her and kiss her until you’ve run out of breaths and your lungs have shriveled into nothing more than feathers in your chest. 

So you do. 

You tug her back up to you and kiss her, far more languid than she’d initially kissed you. The slow movements of lips with all the time in the world. The steady movements of hands that belong as you run them over her shoulders and down her back, bring them to those hips you’d been adoring every Saturday. 

You kiss Robin Buckley on a Friday, simply because you can. 

Nice, your mind rings out. Nice, nice, nice. 

This was nice – this was right. None of that discomfort at the thought of letting Connor kiss you, no strangulation at the word boyfriend. You feel like you can breathe for the first time in your life as you kiss your best friend serenely and let all of that love seep out of your skin when it presses to hers. In the background of it all, a new word forms, a soft blanket of comfort rather than something to wrap around your throat. 

Girlfriend.

Now that? That sounds nice. 

“Hey,” Robin says when she pulls back slowly, tip of her nose still bumping yours, the weight of her still between your thighs, “Do you want to…. I don’t know, go get a milkshake with me or something?” 

You don’t think about either of your parents, or any of the self-righteous vipers who might be prowling the town on a Friday night. You know it won’t be the same as going to the diner with a nice boy – you know you won’t be able to kiss her on the street or cuddle up quite as obviously, keep her quite as close as you so desperately ached to, but it was okay. 

It was enough. For now. 

“Only if we can get strawberry,” you quip, unable to help yourself as you lean up for another brief peck. 

The peck isn’t enough. You don’t think any amount of Robin’s treacly kisses would ever be enough. You’d probably spend an entire lifetime just trying to get your fill. 

“Deal,” she rasps, clearly sharing the sentiment as she leans back down, kissing you right back. Eager lips not quite satisfied. 

There would be no screaming or crying into pillows tonight. 

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[schmafs]

happy webcomic day! my comic, where the heart is, is still running over at @wthicomic and on comicfury! it's been a real joy to work on it so far and im very excited to keep going with it :)

that aside, here are some webcomics ive been enjoying the past few months! check em out, tell a friend–itll really make someones day!

dead or alive “Wanted alive for fraud, Clay is on the run. Blackbell is wanted dead for 13 counts of murder. The two meet in the town of Nowhere as they attempt to evade capture. When secrets from their pasts come back to haunt them, Blackbell and Clay soon find out their paths are more intertwined than they initially thought.”

(action, western)

dead or alive is a western with incredibly charming characters and a fun adventure overall! im so interested in some characters’ backstories (namely blackbell). i know it’s gonna go so hard…

arc of the spark “Bangaroo, a hot contender in the Spark Wrestling League, seeks to bring his lost family back together by wrestling his way to money and fame. The league has other plans for him however, as he unwittingly finds himself tangled up in its dubious, shady underbelly.”

(action, mystery)

a fun story that, to me, is reminiscent of saturday morning cartoons! great character designs and phenomenal action sequences.

it’s all a dream in the end “A catlike protagonist wakes up to find themselves asleep, and meets a colorful cast on their journey to waking up; a clown, some talking meat, a dream copy of her younger brother, and a rabbit that claims to be in the same never-ending-dream situation. Along the way, she learns to trust people she should, fear things she should fear, and maybe just enjoy the moment sometimes as she moves from dream to dream.”

(horror, surreal, marked tws for blood, violence, and strong language)

this comic is recently finished, and boy is it a neat time. the surreal (and, well. dreamlike) elements in it are really fun and well thought out and it’s a comic i keep meaning to reread so that i can see all the bits of foreshadowing the author laid out towards the beginning of the comic. great color schemes overall, too!

phantomarine “Phantomarine is a spooky-but-sweet fantasy webcomic about a ghostly princess and her perilous journey across a haunted sea, hoping to save her soul from a devious, shapeshifting death god known as the Red Tide King. Expect all manner of maritime mysteries – monstrous sea creatures, sacred lighthouses, strange afflictions, accursed marauders, feuding gods, grand sea battles, and a heaping helping of humor in-between!”

(fantasy, adventure)

im not quite sure where to begin with phantomarine because it’s just that good. bursting with heart and with beautiful scenes and color palettes overall. the worldbuilding in it is also very well thought out (particularly with regard to the religion of the world).

maladious “It’s 2002, and sixteen-year-old Julian Lewis has just debuted as the newest member of Olympos, America’s premiere superhero team. Admittedly, he's kind of terrible at his job–-but he’s got the heart of a hero and the best mentors he could ask for.

However, when a mission to intervene with a low-tier villain attack reveals that an old foe isn’t quite as dead as he’s supposed to be, Olympos must untangle a web of new enemies and old ghosts in what is undoubtedly their greatest challenge yet.”

(horror, action, thriller, rated 16+)

maladious is another comic with a charming art style, but i think the most interesting thing about it by far is the mystery the author is cultivating. i can tell they’re cooking something, but i don’t know what yet and i want to stick around to find out!

invincea and the warriors from hell “Orphaned and mute from infancy, Invincea has never had an easy life. But when what little she still has in a world that rejects her is violently torn away, she sets out to find justice.

Lost and wounded, she soon meets the mysterious bard Lon Quillow, and together they are catapulted into a cross-country string of adventures bringing them closer together as they learn about humanity, empathy, and the deep desire of all people to be understood and accepted.

What has been lost can be found again…”

(fantasy, adventure)

i absolutely adore invincea. the characters are all incredibly charming and the art style is delightful to look at and very reminiscent of cartoon saloon’s work! im so curious about where the story’s going to go next!

tiger, tiger “Tiger, Tiger is a story of a young noble lady, who steals her brother's identity and his ship to sail across the world to find love and adventure, and to write a book about her favourite subject: the fascinating life cycle of sea sponges!”

(fantasy, adventure)

this is one ive been reading for a while! once again, the characters are all very charming, likable, and authentic in a way i cant quite explain. absolutely gorgeous grayscale art in this one.

golden shrike “Something has shifted in the world. Sheltered deer twins, Runi and Nero, will get to see it all unfold.”

(fantasy, adventure)

the author consistently draws these beautiful natural scenes with equally beautiful colors, and i really enjoy the lore theyve put together about the deer world!

starbord: the journey home “In a part of the universe alien to them, all that Zachary Higgins and J.C. Coleman want is to get back to Earth. There's only one problem: nobody's ever heard of a planet called "Earth". Stuck with an experimental spacecraft and trapped in a galaxy teetering on the brink of total war, they'll turn to unlikely friends and face uncanny foes in their journey home.”

(action, science fiction, adventure)

going back to the idea of authentic characters, each and every character in starbord feels authentic to me. theyre all really well written and the main characters in particular feel like people i could meet in real life. the story is also compelling!

inhibit “Victor is a resident at a home for kids who haven't yet proven that they can control their powers. With a transfer only a few weeks away, he has one last chance to prove he is capable enough to go home to a normal life. But just when he most needs things to go smoothly, everything starts to fall apart, and he finds himself tangled in the plot of a mysterious arsonist…”

(science fiction, adventure)

this one’s got some great mysteries going on, and at the moment the plot is ramping up and i seriously cant wait to see what happens next! very likable characters here, too!

a d6 story “A tale of The UnKing. As a familiar horror infiltrates Folia City, a crew of unlikely heroes must fight to save their world as they know it..”

(horror, action, science fiction)

im not sure where to begin with this comic aside from the fact that the hook is absolutely crazy. you just have to trust me on this one.

milos from home “An anxious Torchic and classically amnesiac protagonist Eevee take a shot becoming a Rescue Team. Also something's screwy with the world at large, but one step at a time.”

(fantasy, fan fiction, adventure)

this one’s a pokemon mystery dungeon fancomic, and the author has some really interesting takes on pokemon culture and interpretations of what certain pokemon look like! i care so much about each character :,) except for one. i’ve never wanted to punt a rat (dedenne) into the sun so bad in my life.

first song “10 years ago, a private company opened a portal. It went wrong. Our material plane was smashed into the land of the dead; Limbo. Spoon was at Ground zero of the explosion but survived, and now he wanders the wasteland with his guitar and the demon that inhabits it - encountering ghosts and other survivors on a quest to return to his childhood home. At the same time he is hunted by a mysterious woman who is single-minded in her drive to find him.”

(science fiction, supernatural, post-apocalypse)

i just KNOW the author of this one is cooking something crazyy. we’re still pretty early on in the story, but i can feel it! the fact it’s in black and white also goes a long way in establishing the vibes of the whole thing.

inheritors “The setting is a post-apocalyptic, alternate Earth. Most of the planet was destroyed by a rogue AI program, called Apollo. However, one continent was able to be saved by the goddess Athena, and was able to evolve and adapt to urban life today. Now, Apollo is making his presence known within the existing cities, and new information is coming to light. Who created Apollo? Where are the gods, now? Most importantly, what does it mean to truly be human?

As if all of that wasn't enough pressure, Space-Time's grandson is having an identity crisis over the sudden realization that he's going to outlive everyone he's grown close to. So y'know, there's a whole existential crisis sub-plot along with the mystery surrounding Apollo, the gods, the world of Faerie, and some strange, alien newcomers in the city.”

(action, science fiction, modern fantasy, drama. marked tws for topics of religion, depression, self-harm, bullying, child abuse, attempted suicide, and struggles with identity)

this one’s also pretty early on in the story as well, but i was immediately captivated by the silly little drawings in the first couple pages. i also know the authors of this one are cooking very hard with the worldbuilding! definitely check this one out so youre here whenever things start getting wild!

[weaselle]

story idea just hit my brain like a purse full of bricks (would work good as a tv show maybe)

setting and characters: the crew of some turn and burn bar and restaurant (sort of like waffle house meets applebees and always super busy)

The staff is used to being slammed to hell every saturday night, but on this particular saturday night, hell was becoming far too real...

the sudden re-emergence of magic into the world has resulted in a near apocalyptic situation, especially as magic has returned at 100 times its old strength. So there are demons and angels and vampires and centaurs and things just, everywhere now.

before the dust settles into a new routine, there are a lot of casualties on the normal human side, and tho that number comes back down as the world adjusts, it continues to be an elevated statistic in this new world full of orcs and imps and demi-gods and werewolves and things.

So when things first kick off, it's like the end of the world, and the staff of this restaurant just, keeps serving whoever, or whatever, walks through the door, since providing a service seems to be keeping them relatively safe. They have to get very creative to cater to some of the new guests, and they don't leave to go home because they are afraid of everything going on in the streets.

it is the story of a ship crew, battling the elements, but the ship is a busy restaurant, and instead of the vast sea and terrible tempest, it's the magic apocalypse swallowing the world just on the other side of that door, and inventing a gallon sized cocktail for the crazy slug monster that just ate a bar stool.

After a little while, the clientele itself is what keeps things going smoothly, as even a werewolf will mind their manners if they walk in and see a demi-demon at one table and a necromancer at another with a gaggle of vampires enjoying some bloody marys at the bar.

Several other employees show up with nowhere else to go and a couple of the magical guests wind up getting hired for various reasons to fill out the ranks enough to allow 24 hour service with off shifts (this also goes a long way toward being able to cater to the new appetites they have to feed - perhaps a necromancer cook or a sorcerous bartender.

the patrons enjoy having a decent modern restaurant that's still operating, and resent having their nice meal interrupted, so woe unto anyone who starts any shit within these four walls

And that's how the Crackpot Hearth (or whatever) became neutral and sacred ground in this new and nightmarish world, where people and creatures can all have a drink and a bite to eat in peace, while for the restaurant staff things are about the same actually, but a lot more interesting.

[witchofimber]

trick or treat 🎃❤️‍🔥

One week after Lily and James broke up – tears, shouting, broken crockery – and six days after Remus walked away from Sirius for the last time – no tears, because nothing they did counted, right? - Sirius opened his door at a horrific half-past seven on a Saturday morning and found Lily, wan and haggard, leaning against his doorbell.

“Dorcas and Marlene only have a sofa and have really loud sex,” she said. “And Mary’s still living with her parents, and my family are – it doesn’t matter, but look, I understand if this is going to break your sacred vows of friendship with James, but - “

“I’m too hungover for this,” said Sirius. “The rents about two pounds eighty, but nothing works.”

“Aren’t you rich?”

“I’m living in bohemian squalor.”

Lily scrunched up her face, possibly catching a whiff of the kitchen. “Is it going to ruin your aesthetic if I fix shit?”

“Please. Do whatever the fuck you like.”

Sirius wouldn’t describe himself as mad at James, exactly.

You couldn’t be mad at James – no, plenty of people could be mad at James, but Sirius couldn’t. Vaguely irritated? Currently blaming most of his life problems on him? Enjoying watching him squirm? Yes to all three. But never anger, not really, which was why he was in The Pickled Stag (terrible pub, chosen purely for the name), signalling the barman for another and saying, “Are you really going to be grouchy because I didn’t let your ex be literally homeless? She’s my friend too.”

“I just think,” said James, “that, given the situation, it really would have been kinder of her to move to Bali.”

“Terrible choice, she’d burn in an instant,” said Remus. “Sweden. Iceland. Those are more Lily-appropriate places.”

“She can’t go anywhere cold, she can’t ski.” James picked up his shot glass, downed it in one, stared mournfully into the depths and then said, tearfully, “I was going to teach her to ski.”

“You can teach me,” said Peter.

“There you go,” said Sirius. “Pete is basically just Lily with worse hair.”

James, on the edge of a sob, said, “Pete, I’ve already taught you to ski five times. You cannot be taught.”

Remus was leaning over the bar, rapidly ordering enough shots to kill an elephant. His horrible trousers were stretched over his decidedly un-horrible arse. Sirius had to fire himself into the sun. He could not, could not, lust over a man in khaki slacks. A man who – dear god – was requesting Nanci Griffith on the tunes.

“Are you serious?” said Sirius.

“I thought that was - “ said Pete.

“Don’t,” said Remus, shaking out his hair. “My mum likes her, ok? It’s soothing music.”

“It’s the sad and sexless wail of the perma-virgin,” said Sirius.

“Not everything has to be about sex,” said Remus testily. “Sometimes things can just be nice, all right?”

“Who wants nice?” said Sirius, aware that he was stumbling into danger but slightly too drunk to stop. “I mean, give me passion any day.”

“Love is a lie,” mumbled James.

Sirius pointed at him. “See? He gets it.” He was grinding salt in the wound, deliberately nasty now. “No love for James. He doesn’t love anyone.”

“I love Lily.”

“He loves Lily,” said Sirius, gleeful.

Remus curled his lip. “The speed and consistency with which you manage to miss the point is genuinely astonishing. Prop James up, I’m going for a piss.”

“Merlin,” said Pete, looking between Remus’s back and Sirius. “What’s up with you?”

“There’s a monastery in St Bartelomo’s,” said James. “Very beautiful view. Lots of sea.”

“Fascinating,” said Sirius, with an intense premonition of dread. He pushed another shot towards James.

“The monks take a vow of silence.”

“Probably not for you, then.”

“What’s the point of speaking if I can’t say anything to her?”

“Human communication. Discussing the weather. Buying booze.”

“The monks of St Bartelomo’s brew their own wine.”

“Do they drink it?” said Pete.

James waveringly raised his glass and studied the irridiscent depths of his sambuca. “Perhaps further study is needed.”

“Perhaps,” said Sirius. “You’d make a shit monk, though.”

“If I can’t have her, perhaps God will comfort me,” said James, and then promptly threw up on his shoes.

[bozepomagaj]

How to train your dog.

College AU!Trigun (part 3)

Summary: a couple of days pass and you find out that your professor set you up with none other than Nai Saverem to work on a thesis. You, however, decide to make the most of this and finally confront him and show him who's the 'big dog' now with the help of your new friend, Vash.

A/N: I stalled this for far too long for too many reasons but here it finally is! This year is gonna be hectic as I have an undergraduate to do but I'll do my best to stay consistent this time and continue writing this. This one's a bit shorter than the last two parts but I hope that nonetheless people still enjoy it. Like always, criticism is appreciated.

CW: light swearing, mentions of being roofied/drugged

Word count: 1.8k

[part 1] [part 2] [part 3]

You thought everything was going to go smoothly. You thought that your plan was perfect: befriend Vash's friend group, get closer to Vash, and make Nai's life hell. Except, of course, you were never that lucky.

"Can't I just do this by myself?"

Obviously, he'd say that. As rude and brash as ever, however, you had manners so obviously you didn't talk back. Your professor leaned back in his chair sighing in annoyance. He was an older man and it was very clear he was not here to have a debate with you two.

„Listen, the event is in 2 weeks. The topic is very complex and detailed and I don't want you overworking yourself. I gave this assignment to you both because out of everyone here, you two are the only ones who look like their will to live hasn't evaporated yet and seem genuinely interested in what I'm talking about. Not only that but both of you have made some exceptional projects in the past. I need this to be perfect, it's gonna be representing the entire school.“

Open Door Days. The singlehandedly worst and best event every year. Your classes were shortened or simply canceled which was wonderful but then at the same time all the best students were chosen to do all kinds of different projects to „encourage young people to choose this major“.  And of course, you just so happened to be this „best of the best“. This also meant that you'd have to be there, standing for a whopping 8 hours watching annoying high schoolers giggle at you as they eat all the snacks and don't even appreciate all the hard work you've put into these theses.

„Plus, what kind of impression would we leave on the younger generations if we didn't promote teamwork?“

Nai's annoyance was so terribly obvious and irritating. Couldn't he at the very least pretend to be fine with this out of respect?

„Right, my apologies. So the due date is in 2 weeks?“

„A little earlier. We need to submit it by Tuesday so try to get it done by Saturday so I can review it in case there are any mistakes. If you get stuck at any point just come to me and I'll help you out.“

You and Nai both silently nod. The professor hands you 2 large Encyclopedias on the probably largest and most complex topic: bacteriology. Nothing specific, just something from that field which just so happened to be so complex that you could spend at least a week picking which topic to do. In any case, this was a nightmare for both of you. You were responsible and you could get over this silly little grudge but Nai? Oh, he would never. To everyone, he was a force to be feared and reckoned with, terrifyingly intelligent, hard-working with an immaculate work ethic. He took care of his body like it was a sacred temple. Everything about this man oozed with pride and adoration. That was until you got to his shitty personality. At times it honestly felt like you were conversing with a child rather than a grown man. But it was too late to say anything now, with scoffs on both of your faces, you both exited the classroom and you immediately stepped in front of him so he didn't get a chance to run off.

„I need your number. Also, we'll be meeting up at your place cuz it's nicer.“

Quick and straightforward. You learned that this was the best way to make him even listen to you. He cocked his eyebrow and clicked his tongue, a habit he got recently and only did it when he was annoyed.

„Alright. But I expect you not to make a mess of my apartment.“

He handed you his phone and you entered his phone number into yours then entered yours into his. The moment you were done, he snatched the phone from your hands and walked off. You scoffed and yelled after him.

„I'm coming over at 4!“

Whether he heard you or not you really couldn't care less. Your entire walk home was ruined, all you could think about was him and his irritating face, his irritating attitude, his irritating... well, everything at this point. Once you were home all the frustration melted as your dear puppy jumped up on you excitedly. He was honestly a better friend than most humans. It's like he'd always know what you needed. Whether it be silence and some quiet time with his paw resting on your leg while he quietly pants or him dragging you out with his leash in his mouth, urging you to take him on a walk to forget about everything. The only thing was, he was young, healthy, strong, and very much untrained. Plus, as a border collie, he had the energy of not one but five horses. Sure, he was a great source of motivation but sometimes you just couldn't keep up with him. Times like these made you realize why your mom told you that it might be best to leave him at home with them where he could go out and play far more often. You glance over to your living room... ravaged living room, to be more specific. He seemed to have another one of his energy spurts and decided to redecorate everything. Plants on the floor, pillows everywhere, and a couple of pictures broken. You couldn't get mad at him because you knew exactly what you were getting yourself into. Instead with a heavy sigh you send him to your room and go sit down at your computer. You spent some time looking up tutorials and blogs about how to train your dog but most of the time, it was about puppies or saying how the dog should've had prior training when they were younger. Which he didn't have. With a heavy sigh, you finally found a blog on which a young woman complains about having a rather large and active dog who wasn't trained prior and is now a total menace to her and everyone in her household. Huh. Seems like there were some people like you after all.

After spending some time looking through the comments, reading the replies of professionals or just random people who learned how to work with dogs you came to two conclusions:

There was still hope for you and there is still a chance that your big puppy could turn into the greatest boy ever with enough treats and reassurance and you won't have to pay concerning amounts of money for him to receive proper training and number two.

Nai was more similar to a dog than you thought.

You kept thinking about him since you were gonna have to meet him up in.... oh crap, less than an hour!? You decided that it was time to pack your stuff if you wanted to be on time. Unfortunately to you, the apartment he lived in was quite a bit away from yours so you needed to take a bus to there. The neighborhood wasn't unfamiliar to you because Meryl lived in the same apartment complex, her parents knew the couple who owned the place and decided to lower her rent slightly, while she got to live in a fancy apartment. Lucky.

As you wait for the tram (because you managed to miss the bus by a couple of seconds), your bus vibrates. You quickly take it out expecting it to be Meryl but instead, it's an unknown number. You make a face, thinking it is some kind of a scammer, but then again would a scammer really send you a message that says:

„Heard you're coming over :D“

You quickly type up, asking the mysterious person on the other line about their identity to which they immediately respond, almost like they were waiting.

„Did you not save my number? It's Vash :)“

Huh. It seems like you did forget to save his number. You finally see your tram pull up and you quickly jump on, trying to find your spot. Once seated, you start typing:

„yeah srry forgot about it lol“

„It's fine, but are you actually coming over?“

„on the tram rn so yeah, should be there soon“

„Great :D. I'll get some snacks ready.“

Oh, he was so nice. Just as nice as the last time you saw him. This means Nai is going to be positively fuming once he sees you two interact.

The ride to their neighborhood was quick, you played some music to pass the time and with a positive mindset, you skipped over to the apartment complex and walked in (you knew the passcode because Meryl gave it to you numerous times), walking up the stairs up to their apartment. After ringing the small bell you heard some commotion inside and rather than being greeted with Nai's scowl, you were greeted by a big hug from Vash.

„There you are! I already got worried you got lost or something.“

He ushered you to come in and now, that you saw the apartment during the day in all its glory, all you could say is that you were truly in awe. Beautifully decorated with lots of unique flowers and greenery you've never seen.

„Holy crap. I'm guessing you're the one that decorated this place? Cuz my God, it's gorgeous.“

„No, it was me. And since when are you on such good terms with my brother?“

Ah, the man on the hour was finally here. You spot him in the kitchen, a scowl on his face, and he clicks his tongue. Like always. You side-eye him and wait for his dear brother to enlighten him on the situation and the moment Vash opens his mouth, the biggest, most evil grin adorns your face.

„Nai, they're the ones who helped me out the other day. Y'know, when I almost got roofied? They were the ones who dragged me here. Honestly, I can't tell you how grateful I am to them.“

He looks over at you with the biggest smile in the world. Unlike you, he had pure intentions and wanted to show you how grateful he was all the while you were busy watching Nai's face contort, showing far more emotion than he ever has. He looks over to you and the moment he sees your shit-eating grin, it's like you could see the fumes coming out of his ears.

„Well... seems like I misjudged you then. Sorry.“

Sure, he whispered it, sure, you could barely hear him say anything but boy did it feel good to have THE Nai Saverem apologizing to you. And just like one of the commenters on the blog said:

„in order to train your dog properly, you first need to assert dominance and show them that you are confident.“

And it seemed like it was finally time to train this dog properly.

[zoeydoe]

10 Letters to Mom - Mischa angst

Mischa is instructed to write letters to his mother as if she were still alive to cope with losing her. He doesn’t write often, but the letters convey a lot.

Letters from Mischa Bachinski to his late mom, translated from his slightly broken English by Ezra Lamb, St. Cassian’s student, in memory of the boy, lost to the September 14th accident.

Letter 1: Dated September 9th, 2008

Dear mom, 

The counselor says I should write to someone I love to practice my English. And so, I am writing to you. Perhaps I will burn these letters by firelight, in hopes the smoke will travel up to you. 

Canada is not as nice as I thought it would be. Classes are terrible. In maths I have to sit between a snotty ginger and a strange poet boy. It makes no sense, how all of these people exist together in this tiny town. Home is no better. I do not think Chris and Carly like me that much. No, I will not call them mom and dad. 

I still miss you. Part of me still yearns to be a helpless boy again, still in your arms. 

I miss you. 

Love, your son, 

Mischa

Letter 2: Dated October 24th, 2008

Mom, 

I was suspended. I’m so sorry. I promised you I would be your good son, your small boy always. But I got angry. I was spiteful, and I wanted a drink, a drink always makes things better. And I only knew one way to get one. 

I know you said that churches are sacred and not to be crossed, but I heard the ginger from maths say she knew the pastor, knew where the communion wine was kept. I milked every last bit of information from her, promising to join her stupid choir. It doesn’t matter, I need the alcohol. 

3 whole boxes I stole before she ratted me out to Father Markus. 

I drank it all in one night. And the next morning, Saturday, as I lay there, hungover in the basement, I wondered how I was ever going to make my life worth it for you. I still do not know.

I’m sorry, mom. 

Love, Mischa

Letter 3: Dated November 17th, 2008

Mother, 

I have a new hobby. I think you’d be proud—I am learning to sing. Not opera, or the god-awful jazz that poet boy listens to during study hall, no, this is the good stuff. Real, bonerfied rap music. (note: I know it’s supposed to say bonified, but Mischa would think boner-fied is hilarious, may he rest in peace —Ezra)

I even created a channel on this thing called the YouTube—it is called “Bad Egg” because it is an egg, that is bad. Bad is a good thing, it means cool, or that is what the football boys think. Maybe this new thing will turn out well. I am raging, mother, for you and for Ukraine. And when I rage, I rap about money in autotune. 

I will inspire the world. My life will have meaning once again. 

Love, Mischa

Letter 4: Dated December 30th, 2008

Mom! 

I have got the biggest, greatest news. I have found LOVE! Me, your silly boy, your little child that you raised all by yourself, is engaged!

Ever since my YouTube channel was born, a certain beautiful woman has been leaving kind comments on my YouTube comments wall. Her name is Natalia, and last night she had the courage to message me. She announced her love for me over the internet, and it is a truly beautiful thing. She even sent me picures, and she is the most gorgeous woman I have ever met. 

I wish that you could have lived long enough to meet my perfect Talia, for when I look into her almond eyes, I do not see the boy I am, but the man I must become to possess her. I am growing up, mama, but I promise I will always be here, and that you will always be in my heart.

Love, Mischa

Letter 5: Dated January 31st, 2009

Dear mom, 

I want to tell you about choir. 

Most of the school is scared of me, they think I am some bad boy who lives in the woods. But the choir seems to just have it out for me. Annoying ginger is the leader: she is stuck-up, and a real pain in my you know what. Her real name is Ocean, which I suppose fits, because she is salty and rough and probably drowns people. Poet boy is there too, his name is Noel, and he is the least insufferable of the group. He is gay, which is fine, but funny because if he were a girl, he would so be my type. He is nice, but odd. Then there is a boy named Ricky. This month, Ocean decided she needed to prove that choir was accessable for all, so she got boy who cannot speak to join. I never know what he is thinking. He is scary. Last, there is Constance. Sometimes she cries in the corner when she thinks the others do not see. I see. I wonder if she is okay. I hope she knows I am not okay. I hope she knows she is not lonely. 

I thought choir was going to be the bane of my existance. But…I think it has grown on me. 

I miss you. I love you. 

Love, Mischa

Letter 6: Dated March 6th, 2009

Hello mom, 

Yesterday was Noel’s birthday, so Constance brought in cupcakes for everyone. They were red velvet, and very tasty, much better than Carly’s cooking. Carly is no replacement mother, and her basement has cockroaches. I sleep with the roaches. Perhaps I will name them.

I continue to make videos, and to make love with Talia when I can. I hope I get to meet her some day. In fact, I know I will. Mom, I want to come back to Ukraine. I will meet Talia, and we will love each other in person. 

Tomorrow, we are singing at a local soccer game. We are singing some song that Father Markus wrote for us. I do not want to be on stage. I guess I will have to get comfortable with it. 

It‘s getting late, almost time to meet Talia. I love you mom.

Your son, Mischa.

Letter 7: Dated May 15th, 2009

Mom, I have a dilemma. 

Please, tell me you wouldn’t be upset if I told you that I think maybe I like boys?

Last night, Ocean hosted a choir get-together at her place. It was small and cramped. She and Constance ended up sharing the sofa, Ricky took the armchair, leaving myself and Noel on a blow-up air mattresss. I tried so, so hard to give him space, but I’m not a small guy, and somehow we ended up nestled together under the blankets, somehow I ended up lost in his eyes and staring at his lips-

It felt like betrayal. Like if Talia knew, she would have my head. She wants me to be loyal.

But how can I be loyal when Noel watches me with those stupid baby cow eyes? How can I stay at her side when Noel is right there?

It’s so confusing, mom.

-Mischa

Letter 8: Dated June 19th, 2009

School is finally out, mom. I spend every day scrambling for ways to make a quick buck so I can buy cheap vodka. It’s a bad habit, but hard to kick. I wish I could kick it, I do…

But instead, I beat a kid for a 20 dollar bill from his enemy, sold the foster folks’ antique china, and now am in even more heat with them. They cry at my presence and shoo me away like fly.

I do not mind. At least I do not have to go to school and see Noel and his stupid sparkly eyes and his stupid beautiful face. I will spend this summer with Talia, like I’m supposed to.

Letter 9: Dated August 18th, 2009

It is my birthday. I woke up to a box of cupcakes sitting on the floor above the basement stairs. Carly says they were left for me by the Blackwoods. I opened the box, and they were chocolate with vanilla icing, but found strawberry jam in the center when I bit in, a pleasant surprise. There was also a note. It said “happy birthday Mischa! Love Constance, Ricky, Ocean and Noel”

I smiled when I saw it. I hated being in the choir, but it might just be one of the better parts of my life now.

I am 18 now, and that means I can do lots of things. Hopefully one of those is coming back to Ukraine. I miss home, I miss home, I miss home.

I do want to see Talia, but part of me wants to bring Noel home with me. You’d love him, mama.

Your son (now an adult), 

Mischa

Letter 10: Dated September 14th, 2009

Mom, 

This letter will not be too long, because I am singing with the choir at the Fall Fair this afternoon. It is 6:00 am and I am scrawling some quick words across this paper. Tonight I will tell Noel how I feel. I will tell him I love him and that I have eyes for him. I will tell him soon.

Tomorrow, I will write again and tell you how it goes. 

I can’t wait to have him in my arms, mom.

Your son, 

Mischa

[slxsherwriter]

Friday Nights

Fandom: Halloween 2007

Pairings: Zach Garrett x unnamed female oc

Word Count: 5,153

Warnings: Domestic violence, abusive relationships, drinking

Author's note: I honestly had forgotten that I had this sitting away. This was part of Nano 2023, and it hadn't seen the light. Big thanks for @tinalbion for reading through this and telling me the flow wasn't as terrible as I thought. You are wonderful! Cruddy gif is my own. Had to look everywhere to find the theatrical cut of Halloween since that is the only version that Bill's character Zach appears in.

Friday nights had always been theirs, a time to unwind, relax, and have the company of someone that they actually enjoyed. Zach couldn't recall a time at this point in his life where it hadn't been the two of them on a Friday night. It didn't matter where. Her place, his, a bar chosen at random. The location never really meant anything. They could make do anywhere and everywhere. It just couldn't be missed and couldn't be messed up.

The exception to that rule had been if one of them was too ill or got stuck at work. Otherwise, the start of the weekend was a sacred time for them both. In the near fifteen years that they had been friends, that hadn't changed. No one else was allowed to encroach on the time. And no one ever had. Relationships came and went, each of them thinking that they had found somebody only to have Things fall through for one reason or another. Through it all, the Friday night get togethers never ceased. It was the one thing that they could each rely on no matter what happened in life.

That was until now. When she had called and said that she wouldn't be able to make their Friday get-together, Zack had thought that she was sick. He had offered to bring her whatever she needed, making the assumption that she was staying home. When she had told him that she was meeting up with a guy, a tightness in his chest formed. That wasn't right. Still, he managed to be a good friend and congratulated her. He was able to spit out the words that he was happy for her, even if they felt like acid on his tongue. He's supposed to should be thankful. She hadn't done it in person, which made it much easier to be able to lie. She would have known right away that he wasn't being genuine if she had been able to see his face. So, Zack did the only thing he could think to do. He picked up a shift at Smith Grove for Friday night. It would at least keep his mind off everything. There was a small selfish part of him that hoped it didn't go well, and if it didn't, he wouldn't be available for a phone call. The thought did make him feel a little guilty, but at the same time, it was fueled by hurt.

Friday night came and went, and there was no phone call. He felt it was safe to assume that everything had gone well. He wasn't sure if that made him feel better or worse. Though he didn't have to wait long to get more information. Midday Saturday, he had received a text from her. It was another apology for cancelling last minute, but in addition it included how wonderful the date had gone. Another false sentiment of happiness was given. Then she confirmed that they were indeed on for the following friday, that she wouldn't be cancelling and that she would be buying drinks. Zack didn't have the heart to say anything else to that besides agreeing. Maybe this thing with this guy would fizzle out, as they often did. If he could consider his luck with relationships bad, hers was worse. Maybe things could have been different, could be different if he could get his head out of his ass and actually say something to her. But the fear of ruining the friendship was far too high.

*******************

Things felt odd all week, something that he couldn't seem to shake. Like something was looming overhead, await that was pressing down and affecting every aspect of his life. Well, Fridays had always been that chance at releasing anything and everything that had built up during the week. This Friday almost seemed to be adding to the pressure. Deciding to have a fuck all attitude, Zack had invited her over to his place for the night. He did not feel like being out among the public or dealing with anybody else. And the thought of running into whoever it was that she was seeing made his stomach churn. Safety of his home was far better.

A knock on the door was the only signal that he got that she had arrived. Nothing about the fact that she had made her way inside with a simple knock to announce her presence was unusual. Hell, they even had spare keys to each other's places if something were to go wrong or the other needed something. But something about tonight felt just as off as the rest of the week had. He shoved it to the back of his mind for now, wanting to focus on having a pleasant Friday evening with her. There was plenty to drink in his fridge, and by the sounds of it, she had brought even more. She had said that she would be buying so he wasn't all that surprised. Coming out of the office, he found her setting a couple of bottles on the counter and two cases of beer in the fridge.

"Hey, was wondering where you were," she greeted softly with a smile. The one that he always enjoyed seeing. It softened her face a bit, brightened her eyes.

"Sorry, was just finished up some things needed for work."

"They got you pulling mandated overtime again?"

"Nah, that was all last week." She scoffed, and he couldn’t help but smile. Always worried about him and the work that he did. It seemed that wouldn't change.

"Got your favorite, figuring that I owed at least that much." He shook his head and leaned against the counter as she finished up in the refrigerator.

"It's really no big deal, you know that."

"See, that's how I know you are wrong." There was a pause between them, but it didn't feel awkward like Zach half expected it to after last week. Instead, the silence that stretched between them held the same level of comfort that it always did. There was not always a constant need to fill that stretch of time with sound. A rare occurrence that he found. Most people seemed to always feel the need to ruin a quiet moment. She never had, contented to move through time on the same level that he did. "You know I wouldn't have canceled unless it was something important."

"I know. And you know that you don't need to go apologizing. Really, it is okay. You're here now, and that is what matters, right? So, why don't we crack open one of these bottles and get started while waiting for the rest of that to cool down?" He reached for one of the bottles of whiskey. Seemed like a good place to start as any. She held up her hands in a gesture of surrender before moving to grab them both some glasses as he opened the bottle and reached for his phone to order some pizza. If the plan was to drink even half of what she had brought, they would need some food. Thank God he didn't have to go to work tomorrow. It wasn't as easy to pull off this shit as it had been even just a few years ago. Not that they always drank heavily, but it looked like the night's aim would be to make up for the missing day last week.

That observation hadn't been all that far off. A bottle down along with a couple of cans of beer and Zach was feeling the pleasant haze of being drunk beyond a shadow of a doubt. Relaxed on the couch beside his friend, thoughts were anything but platonic. She was nearly plastered into his side, laughing as they talked about some of the ridiculous things that they had done when they were younger.

"You remember when we were out for my twenty-first, and that asshole at the bar wouldn't leave me alone?" Zach chuckled and shifted an arm around her, keeping her close to this side, even if the action was unnecessary. There was nothing strange about cuddling. Nope.

"Man would not take anything for any answer. Still swear I shoulda knocked the shit out of him."

"Yeah, but that would have gotten us kicked out. Instead…" He shook his head a little and squeezed her shoulders.

"Instead, I pretended to be your boyfriend. We didn't hear the end of it that night." It wouldn't have been a bad thing, but all of their friends had thought it was ridiculous. Why had Zach listened to a single thing that had been said that night? How different things could be.

"It's your fault for just coming up and kissing me without saying a damn thing!" She laughed. While the memory had been amusing, it was also one of those that Zach replayed over and over again in his mind. Especially when he was drinking and alone. He swallowed hard for a moment and glanced down at her. She was snickering and laughing a little too hard at the memory. Now would be an embarrassing time to let any arousal cloud over what little judgment was left. But did it matter?

Captivated. That was what he was as he watched her fondly, all while his fingers moved absently against her arm.

"It shut him right up and right down though, didn't it?" he could lean in and kiss her now. It would be so easy. As the thought became more and more enticing by the second, he had to be content with the way that he she was turning more into him, pressing into his side and wrapping an arm around his waist. Why was it a bad idea? Liquid courage at its finest, though that was not what registered in his brain. All that kept playing on repeat was that previous kiss. It would be so much better now, wouldn't it? They were closer and knew each other so much better than even then. They had been through so much more.

Before he could second guess the action, Zach was leaning in and brushing his lips over hers. The soft little gasp of surprise sent a shiver down his spine and shot the last little bit of control or thought that his brain could muster. A more insistent kiss was pressed to her lips. Much to his utter joy, she was kissing him back, that soft hand coming to rest against his neck. Nothing outside the two of them mattered. Actions were a little sloppy, the effects of the alcohol apparent, though it wasn't anything that he could give two shits about. He had her here, in his arms, kissing her with her returning the affections.

His currently unoccupied hand lifted and gently carded fingers through her hair. Giddiness, like he was a teenager all over again, forced everything else into the deep recesses of his mind. Finally. After all this time, it was finally happening. For a mere second, there was a break, both gathering their breath. Not a word was uttered. It wasn't needed. Then, she was pressing into his with far more enthusiasm, practically crawling her way into his lap and Zach had to quickly adjust, though it ended with him on his back, waist straddled and his hands against her hips. A position that he would not complain about. Ever. It could have been hours or minutes, but Zach wasn't able to tell. There wasn't any desire to pull back or shift her from his lap. Though eventually, oxygen was needed. The two were silent, looking at one another, soft smiles shared without having to say anything. Fingers gently ran over her cheek, the moment seared into his brain. He felt sleepy, warm, and comfortable. She settled down against his chest, sprawled out over him, allowing him to wrap an arm properly around her waist.

The next thing that registered was the painful bright light that came streaming through the window. With a pained wince, it took effort to manage to open his eyes. There was a warmth atop him. What had happened? Glancing down, he was greeted with the sight of air. Oh, that was right. They must have fallen asleep after drinking and…shit. They had been making out. In the light of day and with a sober mind, he realized that perhaps neither of them had made good decisions last night. Or maybe it was the best decision that he had ever made. Things were yet to be seen. He would have to wait for her to wake up to make that determination. For now, he was going to enjoy the few moments that he was gifted.

A small groan told him that she was waking up. A part of him wanted the moment to last just a little longer, selfishly enjoy something that would likely be ripped away from him in mere seconds. But there wasn't anything to do as she shifted. He could feel her lift a hand, rubbing her face.

"Morning," he murmured gently, not wanting to startle her. There was a dull throb in the back of his head, a sure sign of the hangover that would be plaguing them both as soon as they actually started to move around. There was a small grunt given in response, and he had to do his best not to laugh. It would have been a little too painful right then. She just seemed to nuzzle closer instead of pulling away. Not what he expected, but maybe she hadn't quite come out of whatever dreamland that she had been living in. While it wasn't common, it wasn't exactly unheard of that they ended up cuddled on the couch or passed out and waking up like this. He just figured it wouldn't be the case when she had whatever it was that was developing with whatever his name was.

"Shit…" She managed to slowly pick her head up before realizing what position they found themselves in. Another second, and she was picking herself up off of him. Zach immediately missed the heat. "How much did we drink last night?" His heart sunk a little when that was the first thing that she asked. Did he say anything? Would it be smart?

"Probably too damn much," he offered with a slightly pained chuckle. Zach ran a hand over his face and forced himself to sit up, where, as expected, the throbbing in his head immediately worsened. "If you feel anything like I do, I have a feeling that you'll agree."

"Yeah, okay. We overdid it." He didn't watch as she moved towards the kitchen, listening to the steps that wandered off. Perhaps she was ignoring the elephant in the room. Perhaps it was a simple case of her not remembering. Zach wasn't sure which he would prefer it to be, which might hurt a little less. Pushing the thoughts to the back of his mind in favor of heading to the bathroom, Zach could worry about it later. Things were normal otherwise this morning so why bother messing with the status quo.

*****************

She never mentioned what happened, and after a week where things weren't awkward, he figured that she simply didn't remember what had happened. He did, and it was just making things a little more difficult for him. Sure, it happened when they were both drunk, but Zach really wanted to believe that even with alcohol, she wouldn't have done anything that she didn't want to do. But, like the good friend that he was, he didn't say anything since her relationship seemed to be progressing instead of ending like things had over the last few years. She was happy, so he had to suck it up.

A few weeks went by, and everything seemed typical. Work was work, life went by, and Friday nights continued to be a source of enjoyment. He had gone on a few dates, though nothing really stuck. Everyone ended up compared to her and always fell short. Not that the reasoning was ever fully explained to her when they got together. That would ruin the whole thing that he was trying to do.

It was when a Friday night was skipped without warning that Zach began to feel a little uneasy. At first, he thought it was something that he had done. Maybe she had remembered and had decided that it was something that she couldn't handle anymore. A spiraling thought pattern that he was able to recognize. Zach had to give the benefit of the doubt, calling her to check in and see if she needed anything the next morning. That uneasy feeling grew, though, when she had said that she had forgotten to let him know that she hadn't been able to make it. Her voice sounded off. Off in a way that he couldn't place but enough to make that pit in his gut grow. The sort of off that he heard at work at times, when someone was worried or trying to hide something.

That worry grew into an all out concern when she started to not return texts and when more get togethers were missed without any sort of warning or explanation. All the way, this guy was still in her life. Concern remained present but began to share space with suspicion. Zach was simply a security guard at Smith Grove. It wasn't like he had a lot of reach or ability to look into things. But he was owed a few favors with some people who did have those abilities. Now was the time to call them in. He needed some background information on this guy that was becoming a major part of his friend's life. One that he had yet to meet, one that there was always an excuse so he couldn't. Red flags slowly began popping up left and right but until he had information and some concrete evidence.

****************

Poignantly, information came to him on a Friday night. Another night that was meant for them to spend together, and there had been nothing but radio silence. While suspicions weren't entirely confirmed, Zach didn't like the information that had been given to him. The guy had a record, and there were some things on there that were enough that it wouldn't take a leap to putting hands on someone.

He had to see her and had to check on her after not seeing her for nearly three weeks. It was the longest time that they had gone without seeing one another for almost ten years. Armed with the knowledge that there could be a potential problem when he showed up, he was prepared for all possible outcomes. Arriving at her home, the first thing that he did was try to see if the lights were on. Some sort of sign that she was there. Check. There was a soft glow coming through the curtains. Someone was home. Now, the question was if he used the key or knocked on the door. The key would give him the element of surprise, but if his concerns were correct, that sort of action could make things way worse for her. Knock on the door it was.

He waited patiently, glancing around for a moment as there was nothing but silence on the other side of the door. Another car sat in the driveway, one that he wasn't familiar with but assumed it belonged to the boyfriend. Seconds passed, which turned into two minutes before the door finally cracked open. Zach had been about ready to go for the spare key before he could see her face around the crack in the door. His stomach dropped to his feet as she seemed panicked. Not outwardly, but he could see it in her eyes. The way that they were darting back and forth, fingers fidgeting at the door. Something was very wrong.

"Hey, sweetheart. Hadn't heard from you in a bit and wanted to check in. Was worried about you." She still hadn't fully opened the door, something that hadn't escaped his notice. "Think I can come in?" Under any other circumstances, Zach would have respected whatever answer that she gave but tonight? He wasn't going to take no for an answer.

"Now really isn't a good time, Zach." The words shook, causing him to square his shoulders. Resolve washed through him, reminding him why he was where and why he was doing this.

"I'm gonna say it again. I'm worried about you." He tried to get the point across without saying it outright, but at this rate, it looked like she was going to make him. The sounds of heavy footsteps caught his attention. Whoever was in the house with her was coming to the door.

"Zach, please. Now isn't a good time." It was almost a plea. Enough so that it caused him to press his hand to the door, applying some pressure to be able to get her to open it more. A brief struggle before his willpower was the one that won out.

"I don't care what you think, I'm not leaving you like this. Not when I know something is wrong." Maybe he should have given it a little more thought, but his overriding concern was your safety. And right now? She was not safe. He could hear the angry words that were coming from the hallway right before the man appeared. All before his brain could register the bruise that was forming on the side of her face.

"What the hell is this?" Zach's eyes finally locked on the man that had been causing so many issues and found exactly what he expected. A larger than average frame, both height and weight and a look that screamed rage. Experience told him that this was going to turn into a fight rather quickly. Squaring his shoulders a bit, he was already trying to assess which would be the safest way to get her out of the line of fire and what at hand weapons were closest to grab. None of the options were particularly good, but what was he supposed to do? He was in the thick of it now. There wasn't any turning back.

"I think it's about time for you to leave." The asshole had the audacity to laugh. As much as he wanted to react harshly and immediately, Zach knew that he couldn't. He had to be the one with the level head, thinking clearly would be the thing that got them both out of this safely. It was the same as if he was handling a patient at work. The only difference? He wasn't armed with a loaded shotgun, permission to shoot if things were getting out of hand. So, the next best thing had to be done. Though, it wasn't entirely clear besides getting her out of harm's way what that thing was.

"And just who the hell do you think you are? No one. She's the one who owns this place and decides who comes and goes. And she doesn't want me going anywhere, do you, sweetheart?" Zach didn't miss the way that she seemed to cringe at the pet name, something that she had never done when he used it. It was just another sure sign that his gut feeling had been right.

"See, I know she is entirely capable of making her own decisions, but do you? Because it seems to me that she isn't overly fond of your presence."

"Fuck off and get out of the house." It was Zach's turn to make an amused sound.

"I'm not letting you hurt her anymore. So, either you get out of this house or I call the cops. And I'm not sure that you can really afford another hit on your record right now, can you?"

"Is that a fucking threat?"

"Take it as you want." The man closed down the distance, and Zach tensed, prepared to take a swing or move out of the way as quickly as possible. A good thing too as the punch came without any warning, the arm barely cocking back before flying at his face. While he attempted to dodge, he wasn't able to get out of the way of the full blow, getting clipped on the jaw. Shit, that was a hell of a punch. Probably a good thing he had not taken it full on, otherwise he might have been unconscious on the floor. With the first punch thrown, he quickly moved to put some distance between them while reaching out to grab the closest item that could be used as a makeshift weapon. "Guess that racks up assault." Maybe he shouldn't be taunting the man but he couldn't help himself.

"Danny, stop!" She had reached out to grab Danny, and Zach had to grit his teeth as the man shook her off, sending her into the wall. Just what he had been trying to avoid.

"All right, asshole. This ends now. I'm not letting you hurt her again." Instead of responding, Danny simply took a few more swings. Noot the easiest to dodge but he managed for the most part. There was one blow to his side that had the air knocked out of his lungs entirely, causing him to swing in reaction. It caught Danny on the side of his face, though given that it was an umbrella, it didn't do all that much damage. Enough to make him back off a few steps though, and it opened a cut along his cheek. The opening was enough for Zach to duck by the hulking frame. Taking a whack at Danny's legs from behind, he reached for the phone to call 911. Just two seconds were needed to make the call and get the police here.

*****

The last thing that he wanted to do was deal with paramedics or the hospital. So, as soon as Zach was able to sign the consent form, he did so. Thankfully, it didn't seem like she needed to go. The blow to the head hadn't been recent, so there was no concern for any concussion. There was still a possibility, but the chances were far lower.

Danny was hauled off to sit the night in a cell at the very least. A problem for another time at this point. Zach wanted to focus on getting her back in the house and settled for the night. Actually relax and not have to worry about anything at all.

Ushering her back into the house, the first thing that he did was make sure to remove any trace of Danny. The man had certainly made a mess of a few things. Zach knew that she wouldn't have ever stood for the beer cans laying around or the few articles of clothing that were tossed over furniture. That kept him busy and kept him moving. Preoccupied, really. That worked for a distraction while the silence between them stretched on. She hadn't said much, and it was driving him crazy. Anything would have been taken at that moment. Anger, happiness, anything. But there was nothing. He finally had to break it just to know what was going on in her head.

"Are you going to say anything?" It probably wasn't the right thing to say exactly, but it was what came to mind. A knee-jerk sort of response.

"What do you want me to say?" Her voice was soft, barely audible, but he managed to catch it. Shoulders fell, and he let out a small sigh before moving over to her.

"Anything, sweetheart. Anything at all." There was a hesitation to reach out to her like he wanted to, a nagging doubt in the back of his mind that had never been present during their entire friendship. He hated it. "Just...talk to me? Please?" If he hadn't been that close, he wouldn't have heard the sigh that slipped. Her eyes were focused down on the floor, not raising to look at him.

"I don't know what to say, Zach. I mean, you saw what happened, what he was like." She swallowed hard but didn't break. Not yet. "It's a lot to have to process, and I don't even know where to start." That was understandable and couldn't be argued. Getting over the doubt, he reached out and rested a hand against her shoulder, giving a small squeeze.

"You know that I'm here for whatever you need. I'm sorry about having to force my way in here before. It's not what I wanted to do, but I was worried about you."

"I know, thank you." After a second, she leaned forward and wrapped her arms around him. Zach immediately returned the hug, holding her close and tightly.

"I'm sorry."

"You don't have anything to be sorry for, Zach. He would still be here." Her body went slack against him further, her head resting against his shoulder, face practically in the crook of his neck.

"You deserve so much more than that, sweetheart." This was not the time that he needed to be doing this, but the words were beginning to flow without thought. He couldn't stop it now that it had started. "Someone who knows just how special you are and can appreciate everything about you." She sniffled, and his heart skipped a beat. He hadn't intended to have her cry.  She didn't say anything right away either, making him a little worried that he had indeed said the wrong thing. A little more sniffling as he held his breath, all before she was finally speaking.

"I know that, at least logically. It didn't start out like this."

"It never does. None of that is your fault. You know that, right?" He needed to hear that she knew that. She would be carrying around enough as it was. She didn't need the extra burden.

"I know that. I'm just upset that I let it get this far to begin with. I should have kicked his ass out weeks ago." He could feel the shudder that ran through her and, in response, tightened his arms around her frame. Reassurance was only going to do so much. Thankfully, she was calming down. Zach felt grateful for that, at the very least. It was something. A few more moments passed by before she sighed and pulled back a little bit. "I don't know what I would do without you, Zach." Words that he appreciated and liked hearing, but they were not exactly what he was holding out hope for. He was jumping ahead of himself right now. After what had just happened, it was the last thing that should be on his mind.

"You know that I'm here for whatever you need. Anytime." The words were easier since they were genuine. He would do anything for her. Maybe one day, she would truly see that.

[twoidiotwriters1]

Almighty (Leo Valdez xFem!Oc)

A/N: I always wanted to be part of a cheering squad, I'll yearn for those uniforms my whole life -Danny Words: 2,136 Series' Masterlist Previous Chapter // Next Chapter Listen to: 'Time Machine' -by Mia Giovina

IV: Kawabummer

"I have an idea," Grover says. "It's terrible, but it might work."

"I love it already," Percy says sarcastically.

They are currently going through another side quest Iris gave them to obtain more information on the lost chalice. They're supposed to clean her staff in some magical water that of course, it's packed with monsters and super hard to access.

"You guys head for the cliffs. I'll keep watch from here," Grover pulls out his panpipes. "If you make it, great. But if the snakes start heading in your direction, I should be able to see them moving through the grass. Then I'll distract them with my pipes. I know some pretty good snake songs."

"As soon as you start playing, they'll come for you," Annabeth mentions. "Which I guess is the terrible part."

"It'll be even worse than the chickens at Hebe Jeebies," Percy agrees.

"Yeah, I don't love it. But like Annabeth said before, I can run the fastest. Maybe I can buy you some time. If you hear the pipes, know that the clock is ticking, and it would be great for you to hurry. Get Iris's staff washed. I'll meet you back at the exit."

"Wait," Ara steps into the conversation. "I'm not allowed to kill anything here because they're just minding their business, which is fair—but what do I do, then? I could look after Grover?"

"You go with Percy," Grover says promptly.

The girl frowns. "Now I feel like you're trying to get rid of me."

"I'm not! But if Percy upsets another god, you can make them a favor or something so they don't kill him—maybe use charmspeak?"

"Yeah, that could totally happen," Annabeth agrees.

"Hey!" Percy scoffs. "...Yeah, it could."

Ara snorts and pat his shoulder. "Okay, let's go anger another god!

They make their way to the cliff and look down at the pool of clear water beneath them. "You could jump in with the staff," Annabeth suggests.

"Sure. The problem is climbing back up when I'm done." Percy raises a brow. Annabeth draws out a rope from her backpack. "You think of everything," he grumbles with a scowl. "Maybe we should plan this out a little bit first. That's your thing right, planning?"

Grover starts playing the panpipes, and the girls fall to the same conclusion. Ara nods once and Annabeth steps forward.  "Time's up," she pushes Percy off the cliff. "Bon voyage!" 

The girls watch him plummet and sink with a loud splash. "We should probably get closer to the shore," Ara points out casually.

Going to quests with her brother isn't all bad, sometimes gods can be coerced into cooperating. They have settled on an agreement with Elisson, the river god, to let demigods come here and wash their sacred objects—no pun intended—every Saturday. Ara writes it down on the little notepad she carries to mention it during the next meeting. 

After Percy traumatizes another minor god, they save Grover from the noddle snakes through the honorable task of running around the field drawing rainbows. Percy does not so honorably and faceplants the grass.

"Nemo!" Ara calls out with concern.

"I'm alright!" He coughs out a bit of grass. "But we're lost..."

Ara looks around. "What now?"

The snakes close in around them. "Hey," Percy sits up and stares at the little beasts tiredly. "Can we talk about this?"

"Stay back!" Ara uses charmspeak. "Don't attack us!"

It works, but just because they agreed not to attack doesn't mean they will let them leave. Percy lifts the staff higher to try and light up a path, and all the tiny heads follow the light. Her brother moves it around a few more times to test their obedience, and Ara locks eyes with him, having a fit of giggles.

"Is this how we die?" Ara asks bemusedly. "The mighty Jackson siblings... did we have a good run, brother?"

"Absolutely not," Percy snorts. "But it checks out with our luck."

"Remember when you flashed your boxers to the city hanging from that sign in Fifth Avenue?"

"Or when you almost choked to death on those gummy sharks because I farted too loud?"

They start laughing hysterically, the kind you get when everything in your life is so damn absurd you can't even feel bad about it. "Any last words, Perseus?" Ara says between chortles.

"I'd like to tell Annabeth I love her, and I'd also like to tell the gods to..." He looks down. "Am I floating?"

Ara watches as the staff pulls Percy up, glowing even brighter. "What did you do?"

"Why are you assuming it's my fault?" Percy frowns, still holding onto the staff.

"That wasn't pulling you off the ground five minutes ago," Ara's mind runs through the possibilities. "Perhaps humiliating memories activate it?"

"It's a messenger's staff!" Percy exclaims after some thinking. "You asked if I had anything to say and I told you I wanted to tell Annabeth I love her!"

"You also wanted to tell the gods to—"

"Shut up and grab me!" The girl wraps her arms around his waist and Percy grabs the staff with both hands. "Take us to Annabeth!" The siblings get lifted higher into the air. Ara wraps her legs around his for good measure. "Farewell, my friends," Percy tells the snakes. "Be good to one another."

Ara looks at her brother. "I don't understand why people think I'm the weird sibling."

They fly up, and then they become part of the rainbow. It turns out pretty damn disgusting and makes Ara realize something: her skin constantly shines just like this under the sun, she just hadn't noticed it until now. She's freaking Edward Cullen, skin of a killer and all...

They land behind their friends. "Greetings, earthlings," Percy says. 

"I'm having such a weird time with these quests..." Ara mumbles and hops off.

"What?" Annabeth's eyes widen. "How?"

"I have a message for Annabeth Chase," Percy grins. "I love you."

He leans in for a kiss but Annabeth's face lights up with understanding and she laughs, moving away from him. "Okay, I get it. Messenger's staff. Nice work!"

"Yeah, I totally planned it."

"You totally had no idea."

"Just because you're right doesn't mean I don't resent it."

Annabeth kisses him. "I love you, too, Seaweed Brain."

Grover groans. "I'm fine. Thanks."

"Love you too, G-man," Percy smiles. "That was some fine panpiping." 

"Hmph." He wrinkles his nose. "Let's just get back to Manhattan before things get weird. I mean even weirder."

Ara glances at her palm, scowling at it. "I concur."

Out of all the things Ara wanted to experience as a regular mortal outside of camp, being a cheerleader was in the top three. She's lost interest in a lot, but the girl still dreams about wearing one of those cute flowy skirts. There are a lot of kids at the tryouts, but she stands out thanks to her height, which makes her extremely self-conscious. It's ironic, she's the mighty general of Olympus and these girls could destroy her with a sneer anyway.

"Ar—" The cheer captain squints and whispers to the girl beside her. "Arai Jackson?"

"Arae Jackson," she steps forward and waves. "That's me."

"Oh, okay," the black girl flashes her a smile. "You can start now."

Ara does her best. By that, she means, she cheats to get a spot. Ara's not Spider-Man, and with great power comes an absolutely perfect opportunity to make her childhood dreams come true. The girls in the squad let her know as soon as the tryouts are over that she's in. 

They were delighted with her performance and made sure to tell her she just had this contagious "aura", her voice infected them with the giddy belief that their team would be the winner with no room for doubt. She's just that charming.

"Are you guys ready?" A choir of voices answers excitedly and Ara steps into the living room wearing her cheerleading uniform. She twirls in front of them spreading her arms proudly. "How do I look?"

"Oh, gods!" Annabeth beams. "You're so adorable!"

"Oh, thank gods," Percy sighs in a different tone. "It's not Kelli's..."

Ara suddenly remembers the ugly encounter they'd had with an empousa at Goode's about three years ago, and then all the times after when she was still wearing her uniform. Ara stares down at the fabric with a frown. "I'd forgotten about that..."

Percy makes a face. "Not gonna lie, I was worried you'd be wearing that. Not good memories at all."

"Goode changes the design every few years," Paul scans Ara's appearance with pride. "You look very nice, darling."

Ara grins. "Thanks, Dad. I always wanted to wear one of these! The captain thinks I have a great voice."

Percy smirks knowingly. "So you cheated?"

"It's not cheating, seaweed brain, it's making use of her skills," Annabeth defends her. "Besides, cheering's a wholesome way to use charmspeak, she'll be giving the school's team really good vibes."

Ara sticks out her tongue and her brother tosses a cushion at her. Sally scolds him briefly but then she stands and gives them a weird look. "Well, since we're sharing good news tonight..." she gestures at Paul to come closer. "We have an announcement."

Ara sees their soul lights glow bright teal and her stomach twists in anticipation.

"But first, I want to be clear that this should not affect your plans, kids. I don't want it to distract you from everything you've got going on... especially getting into New Rome University, Percy."

"Mom, I—I live in distracted," Percy stammers and sits up looking worried. "It's my zip code. Whatever is wrong, I want to help."

"Oh, sweetheart," Sally blushes. "Nothing's wrong. I'm pregnant."

"Pregnant?" Ara and Percy repeat in the same stringy voice. "Like..." Percy wavers. "You and Paul."

"Yes, me and Paul."

The people in the room are looking at him and Ara with the same uncertainty, like they're expecting the plumbing to explode and lightning to shoot directly into the TV. Ara's throat closes and she tears up.

"That is awesome," Percy smiles big and leaves his seat to hug their parents.

Sally cries tears of joy. "I'm really glad you're happy."

"Of course I'm happy!" He glances at his mom's belly. "Hold up. When?"

"The due date is March fifteenth."

"The Ides of March?"

"That's just a best guess." Sally grins. "Percy came much later than expected."

"I was stubborn," he jokes. "So this means I'll be here when the baby comes. That's awesome. I'll have a few months before..." Then, realizing Ara is deadly quiet, he looks at her, concerned etched on his face. "Birdy?"

She tries to sound enthusiastic but her voice comes out all wrong. "I'm gonna have another sibling?"

"That is the idea," Paul continues carefully. "Does not mean we'll stop caring for you, sweetheart. You're still our little girl—though not so little now, I guess..." he eyes her wistfully, they're almost the same height.

Ara bursts into tears. "You don't need me anymore!"

Percy, Sally, and Paul pull her into a group hug to try and control the broken dam that she's turned into. What everyone back in camp has been fearing finally happens, but luckily for all of them, she's miles away and with her parents, who are pretty much the only ones who could possibly know what to do in this situation.

"Don't be stupid, Ara," Percy chastises her. "They're gonna love us the same... right?"

Sally chuckles. "Of course we will! You were our first son and daughter! You're both special!"

Ara hiccups. "But that baby will be the real deal! Not adopted!"

"If that mattered, I'd always get the first cookie," Percy scoffs. "Birdy, it'll be fun! You'll get to be here for all of the baby's firsts, that's a lot more than I'll get..."

"Hey," Sally pats his head noticing his downcasted expression, "you will be here for the delivery. And you can come home from California as often as you want. But you also need to stick to your plans. They are excellent plans!"

"Yeah, of course," Percy gives her a brief smile, then he squeezes Ara's shoulders. "You'll get to tease our little sibling—you'll understand why I love doing that to you!"

"You won't be as lonely once Percy leaves, 'cause we'll be using his side of the room for the baby," Sally discloses with a smirk.

Ara had been dreading Percy's departure for that exact reason—she did not want to sleep alone at home. A little baby means she'll have someone to love and to keep her company, more importantly, that kid will need her, she would be an older sister like Silena. That gets her bawling again, but at least this time it's happy tears.

"Thank you for adopting me," Ara hugs Percy and Sally tighter against her. "I love you."

Percy pats her head. "It'll be fun." He insists.

Despite the lively feeling of the room, Ara's stomach still tightens with unease. She looks at her brother, happy and ready to fully grow into a man, and Ara knows she's supposed to walk down the same road eventually. Yet... something tugs on her spine, a deep-rooted fear that maybe, just maybe, Percy won't be the one who misses all of the baby's firsts.

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[vorakh]

🌫️ SACRED AND TERRIBLE SATURDAY 🌫️

Short history of disappearances that violate the International Declaration of Human Rights

[Special mention: ████████████ ]

The third, most awaited chapter of Sacred and Terrible Air! Don't miss the discussion appointment at the Pale Acceleration for Dummies server, Saturday 6th April, all day!

[revacholianpizzaagenda]

Püha ja õudne lõhn (Sacred and Terrible Air) chapters 7+8 summary

Chapters index - ask away for any clarification or further details!

7. THE WORLD IS GOING WRONG, TIME IS OUT OF JOINT

Present. Khan goes through a cute, dorky wake-up routine at sunset. He lives in his mother’s basement, where he keeps an impressive collection of disappearance memorabilia. There are items related to Nadja Harnankur, a dodecahedron autographed by dodecaphonic composed Comte de Perouse Mittrecie, mementos of Ramout Karzai who braved the Erg desert to ask for an audience with God, of Gon Tzu who sailed east from Samara to look for the peaches of immortality for the emperor of Safre and never came back, and of course all the documents related to the Lund girls. Among them, letters allegedly sent by the girls, claiming that they were well and with “the Man”.

2 years ago, the falling out between Jesper and Khan, It happens at a fancy place where Jesper helped Khan get a reservation for a date with a girl. The date goes poorly, Khan waves at Jesper as a lifeline, to show he’s friends with a famous guy, but for his part Jesper pretends to his rich acquaintances that he doesn’t know his old friend.

18 years before that. The next meetup on the beach is at the boys’ secret hideout. It goes very well – they drink cider and exchange tales, including that of Gon Tzu. Peaches of immortality don’t exist, says Khan. What if they did and Gon Tzu just kept them for himself and his friends, say the girls.

Present. Tereesz is discharged. In his ZA/UM hangover, he dreamt of a Man made of violence who lurked at the corner of the girls’ presence, he was him and Hird and a grown-up Khan and Tereesz’s father and more figures still.

Jesper has come to visit Khan in his basement. He is, despite himself, charmed by the collection and by its crown jewel, a rare copy of the model of the disappeared Harnankur ship. They are worried about Tereesz – it’s been two days since the Hird interview. Right then, Tereesz calls from a payphone and urges them to reach him in town.

20 years ago. The girls invite them for the following Saturday at their secret spot. They ask the boys to bring a drug called cherry speed and give them the seller’s contact: Zigi.

8. LINOLEUM SALESMAN

The traveling Linoleum Salesman turns out to be a pedophile. In Kexholm, he finds a group of people like him, who all identify themselves by their day jobs. One day, he sees the girls and desires them as his final target before killing himself.

Present. The trio’s objective – Tereesz’s lead from Hird – is Deerek Trentmöller, who now lives in a retirement home. Tereesz tries to hide having obtained his info via ZA/UM, but Khan susses it out and is worried – for Tereesz but also for Tereesz’s job, which is crucial to their endeavours. Hird and Trentmöller bonded in prison, and Trentmöller got the drawing from the leader of the infamous, alleged Kexholm ring. Now Trentmöller is senile, but they will try to get info on the leader from him, one way or another. Under Tereesz’s rough questioning, the confused old man tells them that the Linoleum Salesman lived in Kexholm, and that he watched the girls from the Havsänglar hotel overlooking the beach.

Elsewhere, past winter’s orbit, a metereological ship is caught in a sudden onslaught of pale. Satellites witness the worldwide range of the phenomenon: Katla’s Northern Passage, Samarskilt, half of Supramundi, Lemminkäise, Nad-Umai, Yekokataa, Severnaya Zemlya, the Semenine islands, all gone. It’s the beginning of the end of the world.

The trio calls Havsänglar to jot down all the names of the full guests list of June-July 52. Midway through the hundreds of names: Deerek Trentmöller, purpose of the stay: vacation, profession: linoleum salesman. They rush back to the retirement home and Tereesz subjects the man to ZA/UM.

But the mind-melding drug shows that neither Deerek Trentmöller nor his Linoleum Salesman persona did it. The last memory Tereesz sees: on the day of the girls’ disappearance, Trentmöller feels a deep wrongness. He checks his photographs taken with the binocular-plus-camera, he is sure that the girls were there, but they are not. Tereesz is feverish and they are out of leads. But Khan has an idea.

[yellow-yarrow]

this could sound like a weird question feel free to ignore me, but i read somewhere that there is a server about sacred and terrible air? do you know if it is open to new members or if it is private?

there are two that I know of! I think the first one, the SATA bookclub is open to new members but you need an invite. I don't know how these things go (I rarely use discord) @ people on that server please help me out lol

The invite to the second newer server is here:

[fictionadventurer]

What are your favourite pieces of sacred music you associate with Holy Thursday/Good Friday/Holy Saturday?

Anon, I love you, because you are giving me the chance to talk about my parish's Holy Week music. I've been mourning because my parish isn't getting any Triduum services this year (our usual retired priest can't help out this year), so we are missing out on all our usual songs.

I doubt this will be a very satisfying list for you, because I don't know the highbrow Latin classical music or Gregorian chants or anything like that. My parish sticks to the Protestant-ish music from the '80s that all the other Catholics on tumblr think is horrible garbage music that has no place in the liturgy. But my parish choir has been together since the '80s and I've been hearing this music my whole life and in that setting it is utterly beautiful, so I'm going to put away my shame and tell you about it anyway.

Pange Lingue Gloriosi/Tantum Ergo Sacramentum: Okay, I've got one Latin song. On Holy Thursday, when the priest processes to bring the Eucharist from the tabernacle to the side altar, the choir sings this song--usually the last two verses in Latin before doing all six of them in English. The version I've linked is terrible, but it's the only video I've found that has the tune we use.

Glory to God: Best part of Holy Thursday is the return of the Gloria. Especially in my home parish, because the dome has several angels, with "Gloria in Excelsis Deo" written above the arch, so it feels extremely fitting. The one I've linked is the one that my parish has been using for the last few years. I'm sure there are plenty of other versions (and we've done others that I like), but I find this one very easy to sing.

Behold the Wood of the Cross: This is one of the options played during the Veneration of the Cross on Good Friday. I'm not as attached to it as some of the others, but it is a nice tune.

Were You There: Another Good Friday song, and one of my favorites. It's best when they sing the first verse with the piano, and then the piano drops out at the beginning of the second verse to sing the rest acapella. The choir sang it this way for the recessional on Sunday, and it was so stunning that the crowd--which usually bolts for the doors as soon as Father passes their pew--stayed in their seats until the end of the second verse. It was a beautiful moment. (I couldn't find a four-part harmony version, but the one I've linked is at least acapella).

Come to the Tomb and Live Forevermore: This is the Communion hymn on Holy Saturday. I always cry during it. (The music backing for the version I've linked makes it seem a bit too sprightly; my choir's version is a little more solemnly joyful.)

Jesus Christ is Risen Today: The recessional hymn on Holy Saturday. Belting this out means that Easter has finally begun.

[where-them-kinomiya-at]

ngl, i feel like episode 4.. it's a great example of v-force's attempts at stakes not exactly working out. like, i don't quite know how to explain it but it just feels kind of silly, especially once you get hit with the BEYBLADING ROBOT.

psykick also just... doesn't really land, like you compared gideon to volkov but.. idk, gideon feels a lot more like a saturday morning cartoon villain, y'know? meanwhile volkov feels like a genuine threat. my best guess is that since psykick is kind of distant from the rest of the cast and we mostly just see random goons they don't really have the presence that volkov and borg have

i think a big part of why the digital sacred beasts worked so well is because of how they hit you with the gravity of the situation. it's not like, "woah!! how will our heroes get out of this one?", or atleast it's not like that for most of it, as soon as you see what happens to yuya you realize that yeah, this time they AREN'T screwing around. the fact that we actually get a glimpse into team cybers helps aswell

overall, it's hard to define what exactly it is that v-force misses that s1 succeeds at (g-rev has tonal issues of its own but that's an entire other can of worms), but it's definitely There

Sometimes I feel like it was not Gideon but Dr. B that was the problem. Gideon felt truly evil to some extent but we got to see more of Dr. B who was working for him. He was your everyday psychotic scientist who was batshit feral and that might have ruined the entire vibe.

The people working under Volkov have a terrible and dark past. He was less of a scientist and more of a genius menace and this fact stands out in comparison to the villains in v-force. V-Force picked up elements from season 1 but the introduction of new villains might have been jarring. They were different and had nothing to do with anyone’s childhood. It was all the present, making it less palpable in comparison to s1. This in fact is a huge mistake taken from the writers of this season. They should have associated someone’s background to the villains. This is exactly why the Yuya/Wyatt arc saved the entire first half of V-Force. The interaction between Rei and Salima (practically everything after the Yuya arc) saved it as well.

Also Barthez and Volkov’s connections are basically a repetition of Dr. Zagart and Gideon’s but again…it wasn’t just anyone..it was Volkov. Hence it was deeper.

Overall the inner conflicts, conflicts within every team, misunderstandings, the characters’ uncertainty and their musings and panics were a few elements that were executed very well in this season, much better in comparison to the other two. The Kane/Zeo betrayals for Takao +his rival Ozuma, Yuya for Kai, Salima for Rei and Mariam for Max were some awesome interactions this season and it does make me wanna go watch V-Force again.

Also V-Force antagonists are criminally underrated. I love Ozuma and I think he deserves fame too.

The GRev part is definitely true. I see all it’s flaws now and the one season that used to be my favourite has managed to tick me off real good. In my eyes it’s no where close to s1.

[pheonixxfoxx]

Real Life And Stuff

*warning talks of mental abuse* I had sincerely hoped to post a collection update for the past several days, but personal life has been, well…

Let's just say, I desperately need to vent about somethings. That is what my entry is going to be about. It won't bother me if you skip over this, as there will be some considerable length. It is possible someone else is encountering a similar experience, and these words will aid them?

In my introductions, I mention 17 years of mental abuse by an ex. While the relationship has been broken off with "R" (as I shall dub him), we still live together. The man currently has dementia; this has made his grumpy dinosaur side even worse. Yesterday, he verbally mistreated me by falsely saying I'm a "sleazy slut" and bluntly informed me about my "slut mouth." Fun times! On Thursday, his verbal abuse got so severe, that it almost drove me to ending it all. An online friend talked me down while I tenderly held and cried all over my Buggy plush, he was drenched.

Still living with this horrid man has inevitably become an absolute nightmare. "R" desperately keeps trying to get in my pants, no thank you! I am demisexual, that emotional connection once formed with "R" has been lost for years! I've just kept going through the motions, as a foolish creature of habit, familiarity and routine. Sex, something I traditionally view as a sacred act, became merely nothing but a chore with him. Trying frequently to discover desperate ways out of having to sleep with him; this would bring forth his terrible wrath! He would subsequently threaten to kick me out into the streets. Why stay with him so long? As to why I stayed so long, because a piece of myself was willingly given to this disappointment of a man. My unfortunate lack of friends doesn't help, as I'm an odd duck. *quack* *quack* Then there is the fact, that it's awkward finding a "mate" and didn't want to experience this precious life alone. Probably, because I am just plain stupid too. I won't lie, there have been good times with the man. We have been on many grand adventures, from a cruise to Disney World!

In notable addition, my mental illness makes change in routine hard. Changes really throw me off, and "R" naturally became, well…routine! Breaking up with him was surreal and has undoubtedly taken some time to adjust to. Nevertheless, it is legitimately SO liberating!!! Why continue living with "R," why not get out now? I have no support system here, when it comes to local friends and family. Truthfully, it is all long distance. If the internet didn't exist, I would typically have no friends! I'm on SSDI disability; I can only afford low income housing. Currently the section 8 waiting list is closed for my state. If and when I get on the list, it is a 2 to 3 year wait…This area has severely limited resources too. The odd fact that I can't drive doesn't help matters either. I've never been capable, due to over thinking and panicking behind the wheel.

Despite how "R" has treated me, he is a human being. I don't want to completely abandon him. His family will merely toss him away into a facility, like yesterday's trash. Right now, he is too high functioning for that. However, his family doesn't want to step in and help either. Indeed, they are all aware what is happening to him. Hell, his Step-mother wouldn't even help me get a couple of hours to do something profoundly meaningful. Which is the One Piece concert happening in Las Vegas this Saturday. *cries* To actually hear "The Drums of Liberation" in person, would bring tears to my delighted eyes.

"R's" cousin humbly admitted to me a few months ago, that she knows how abusive "R" can be in a relationship. How I have a kind heart for staying, this kind heart has inevitably had enough! His Step-mother sent me a text last week apologizing that I've had to deal with this. Fuck, then why not help with this situation foolish idiotic woman?! Instead of declaring bluntly to me, "We have a life too you know!" I possess a god damn life too!! Which 17 years of it have been wasted with "R"…but I dearly want to live again!

If it wasn't for my genuine love and fond attachment to Buggy the Star Clown, I would have completely crumbled. Hell, that almost did happen twice recently. I know Luffy is ordinarily the one who liberates. For me, it is Buggy who is gallantly helping to unlock the gates of glorious freedom from my own personal Impel Down! I plan to carefully design a tattoo centered around him and the freedom he has and will give me.

[bellatrixobsessed1]

Fourteen

Sokkla Saturday: Pregnancy

Summary: Azula, a decade after the war, loses her memories and thinks that she is 14 again.

So this is something of a preview or demo for something that could be a long fic. Usually for these things I do a first chapter preview but this would probably be a scene that would go somewhere in the middle of a long fic. But with some modification so that there's enough context for it to be understandable.  

Panic, there is only a potent sense of panic. “Prove it.” They have pulled her from the rubble, from a death that they had almost caused her. They tell her that she ought to be grateful that they saved her--a feat that wouldn’t have been necessary if not for their own folly. And they have the audacity to continuously pester her with all of these ludicrous claims

“Prove it?” Sokka furrows his brows. “It’s pretty obvious! First of all, haven’t you noticed that everyone is treating you differently? We don’t hate you anymore, we put up with your complaining and your insults. Do you think that we’d do that if we hadn’t made amends over time?”

“We didn’t make amends over time. You struck me down in combat and now you feel guilty over it.” She touches her fingers to her forehead, feeling the raised line of a scar. “You almost killed me and you’re trying to…”

“We didn’t almost kill you.” Zuko cuts in. “Father escaped and his followers…”

“Father…”

“Your dad was in prison.” Sokka cuts back in. “Ba Sing Se is Earth Kingdom territory again. The wall is fully repaired. It’s becoming more common to see earth and waterbenders in the Fire Nation capital. How do you explain that?” He doesn’t leave her room to answer. You don’t even look the same. I mean you do but...you look different.” 

Azula folds her arms across her chest--a gesture brings a queasiness to her swollen tummy. She is almost certain that the protrusion is more pronounced, and that is without the mirror’s input. 

“Go on, look at yourself.” He gestures to said mirror as though it will provide her with the indisputable proof that he needs her to see. And maybe it will. Maybe that is why her feet remain rooted exactly where they are planted. 

She had gotten a glimpse of herself a few times already since coming home and she has been avoiding mirrors since. They distort her reflection, provide her with a sense of unfamiliarity. She doesn’t want to see it again, doesn’t want to look at the girl who is not quite her. 

The girl with the longer hair and the small collection of scars. The girl with more defined cheekbones and a taller build. The girl with the round belly.

  Sokka guides her to the mirror anyhow.

He can guide her all he pleases but she doesn’t have to open her eyes. 

She doesn’t actually have to see. 

She hears him exhale audibly. He and Zuko both. She can sense that they are getting frustrated, perhaps fully angry. She shouldn’t care, she doesn’t want to. What does it matter if they are angry with her? They had never gotten along…

And yet they have only been treating her kindly since carrying her away from the battlefield. Treating her with more care than they ought to. The sort of care and attention that is extended to friends and lovers rather than the sort that is afforded only from an all life is sacred outlook. 

She shakes her head. 

It simply can’t be. 

It can’t be because she can’t return their affections. And she doesn’t have another ten years to relearn what she had supposedly figured out. Doesn’t have another ten years to waste repairing damage that she had already fixed. 

She opens her eyes to see Sokka shaking his own head. 

“You know what, fine!” Zuko throws his hands down and stomps his foot as petulantly as ever. “If she doesn’t want to see it, let her deal with this alone. We tried to help, I already dealt with this once, I’m not doing it again.”

Her heart sinks. Alone…

“I don’t want to be alone.” She says quietly. 

Perhaps they are her enemies, all of them. But their company, admittedly, isn’t so terrible. In fact, sometimes it is rather nice. Even if she can’t bring herself to receive it kindly, she doesn’t want to let it go. 

“Really? Because we’ve been trying to play nice with you…” Zuko begins before rubbing his hands over his face. “You’ve been doing a good job of pushing everyone away.” 

“Of course she has, Zuko.” Aang says from the doorway. 

“The last thing that she remembers is fighting all of us at the Air Temple and then she wakes up here.” Katara adds.

“She’s scared, Zuko, even if she won’t admit it.”

Azula swallows hard, her heart sinking further. To have one of her strongest rivals read her that well…

She swallows harder still; but what if he isn’t her enemy at all. Somehow that thought is more terrifying. How far had she fallen to have opted to form a friendship with the Avatar...with Zuzu?

Zuko’s face softens. 

.oOo.

“If you don’t want to be alone and afraid, let us help you.” Sokka offers quietly. He feels like he is speaking to fourteen year old Azula again. He supposes that, in a way, that is exactly what he is doing. Starting all over again from scratch. 

And it is far more than a little frustrating. 

To have everything he has built with her, all of the trust that they’ve established, everything wither away into nothing at all. To see her revert so fully back into the hurt and confused girl she had grown away from.

To see love dissipate more or less fully, right before him. 

He misses when she’d let him hold her. Misses reminiscing about old times and how much of a relief it is to have moved on from that. He misses when he could kiss her and caress her. When he could tell her how much he loves her. 

“We need to get you your memories back.” He continues. “The good ones. The happy ones. Don’t you want to be happy?” 

Azula’s lower lip quivers. 

Just like it had the first time he’d offered to help her heal and find happiness. 

Aang is right; she is afraid again. Afraid of the truth and afraid of the very prospect of possibly being happy. 

“Please just look in the mirror.” Raava, he doesn’t know why he is so fixated on the mirror! Maybe he thinks that it will rouse a memory, that she will study her face and remember how she got the scars on her cheek and the ones on her shoulder. 

That she will study her body and remember getting the boomerang wielding dragon tattoo. 

She shakes her head. “I don’t want to do that, Sokka.” 

“Why not?” He asks almost desperately. 

“I...I just don’t like it alright.” 

It is anything but alright. He wishes that he hadn’t become so accustomed to picking up on even the slightest trembles in her voice. “I just want my Azula back.” He whispers so quietly that he is surprised she had heard it at all. But she very clearly has, her whole body goes rigid. 

“What are you talking about?”

He shakes his head. “Azula, it’s been ten years. Whether you like it or not, it has been. And you’re...we’re married.” 

She shakes her head vigorously. He can sense that her horror is reaching a peak. He takes her hand and squeezes it. “Look at me, Azula! I have a full beard. I couldn’t have grown this in only a few months! Look at Aang! Raava’s tendrils, if Toph was here you’d know that it’s been ten years!” He takes a deep breath. “And we got really close in those ten years.” 

“No.” She mumbles. “No. I’m the princess of the Fire Nation. You’re just some uncultured Water Tribe peasant. I wouldn’t…”

“But you did.” He gives her a sad smile. “I miss being able to love you. I just want my Azula back.” 

“We’re not together. We never were.” She insists through gritted teeth. “I’ve never had a love and I don’t want one.”

“If you never had a lover then how did you get pregnant?” Zuko asks. 

.oOo.

Azula cringes quite visibly. “I can’t be pregnant, I’m only fourteen.” She holds her hand against her belly; but that would only make sense wouldn’t it. 

Zuko shakes his head. “You’re twenty-four, Azula. Your twenty-fifth birthday is in a few days.”  

“I’m not twenty-four and I’m not pregnant.” She insists. It sounds petulant even to her own ears. It sounds childish to boot. It sounds like a lie. It sounds like a lie because deep down she knew it from the start.

“Then how do you explain that?” Sokka gestures to her swollen belly. 

She swallows “quite simply.” She clears her throat. “The royal feasts are very good.” Her cheeks color ever so delicately.

Sokka laughs, one of his full body, head thrown back, cackles. And she finds that her face is growing increasingly more flushed. He wipes a tear from his eye and slings an arm over her shoulder. “You’re really good at this denial thing.” 

“It’s not denial I…”

“It is, I think that even you know that, you just don’t want to know that you know.” Sokka quirks a brow. 

Azula cups her hands over her ears, gripping at her hairline so hard that it stings. “Shut up!” And yet she squeezes tighter still as though it could block out the thoughts and what if’s that he has put into her head. 

Seriousness returns to his face, “no, you need to…”

Katara raises a hand. “That’s enough, Sokka. We already gave her a lot to process today.” She turns to Azula, “let’s go lay down for a while.” 

Yes. Yes that would be well. To lay down and think about things. To have some quiet time, some alone time. For the first time that day, she complies. She lets Katara lead her to her room. Perhaps she will put her head to the pillow and when she wakes, things will be right again. 

It isn’t as though she hasn’t thought the very same thing over and over since waking the first time.