#yes he is clay someone make a teapot out of him

[etanow]

KINGER IN A LAB APPRECIATION POST

guys lets agree that if anyone makes a new lab au their kinger has to have messed up eyes because this is so funny

also i know monster lab kinger probably isnt that big but it's SILLY okay

moth kinger: @tadc-lab-au

clay statue (i think LMFAO) kinger: @etanow

bonus moth kinger i drew before this

[secret-engima]

Tomorrow is looking up to be - absolutely terrible. Can I beg you for some RWBY or FFXV snippets, please?

Of course! I know it is the "tomorrow" you speak of but lemme see what I can dig up-

Team Gremlin:

There was silence for a long, long time. Nothing but Ruby’s sobbing and Yang’s pounding heart and the fear that pressed down on them from all around. Formless, but not nameless. Then she heard the stairs creak and for one moment Yang was sure that “Salem” was coming upstairs to get Ruby.

But then the door opened and Yang saw Dad’s boots, “Girls? It’s okay. Come on out.” Yang didn’t move, Ruby just sobbed a little louder and clung tighter to her. Dad sighed and bent down to peer at them, “You heard all that didn’t you.” He looked … not mad, but stressed. Maybe scared, and that made the fear worse for Yang. Yang clung to Ruby, her precious baby sister with silver eyes that no monster should be able to get to, and nodded. Dad’s face pinched, then he gave a smile that even she could tell was fake, “Come on out, girls. It’s okay. I promise. That was all just- that was adult talk okay? You don’t need to worry about that until you’re older-.”

“Ruby’s eyes,” Yang bit out, “R-ruby has Mom’s e-eyes.”

“It’s okay, Yang, Ruby, I promise. We’ll take care of it-.”

A creak of wood behind Dad and he frowned before straightening up and turning to face whoever was there, “I’ll be down in a minute, just let me-.”

“Taiyang,” Professor Ozpin sounded weirdly calm, more calm than Dad did, “may I speak to them?”

“…I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

A sigh, “I am well aware of your opinion on this matter, Taiyang, and I respect it. But they have already heard enough to be terrified. Telling them to forget it now is not only impossible but potentially worse than talking to them. You made your stance on this matter very clear, but that does not apply to your children if it will put them in danger.” Professor Ozpin’s voice softened, “Either I speak with them or Qrow does, but please. Let one of us help.”

Dad didn’t move for a long time, then his boots made for the door, “Fine. But don’t drag them into this more than you have to.” A deep breath, “Girls? I’m going downstairs to check on your mother, if you need anything, just shout, okay? Professor Ozpin is going to talk to you for a little bit. He’ll be very nice.” The last bit was said in the same voice he used when warning Zwei not to dig holes in the yard.

Dad’s boots disappeared and fancy black shoes came closer. There was a pause, then, “Would you prefer to stay under the bed?” Ruby whined and Yang glared without a word. She didn’t know what was going on, but Dad seemed mad at Professor Ozpin and everything was scary and so yes, she wanted to stay under the bed. The tip of his fancy cane tapped the floorboards a few times, then there was a hiss and a whirr of gears like from her parents’ gear and the tip disappeared. With a grunt, he knelt down and then lay down on his stomach like even Mom rarely did. He pillowed his chin on his crossed arms and it was so strange seeing a fancy, famous person lying on his belly on the floor of Ruby’s room that Yang snorted despite herself.

Professor Ozpin’s face crinkled into a faint smile and it looked real and warm, “Hello there. You must be Yang and Ruby. I am Professor Ozpin, I’m a friend of your uncle and your mother. Can I safely assume you heard the most important parts of that conversation? The Grimm and the silver eyes and,” the briefest hesitation, “Salem?”

Ruby finally pulled her face away from Yang’s shoulder to whimper, “I-is she gonna take Mom away and m-make her a Grimm? Is she gonna t-take me?”

“Ah. You have silver eyes,” Professor Ozpin murmured, then his face fell back into that faint, warm smile, “Your mother is alright now, and now that we know what is going on, we will be much more careful. I promise, I will do everything in my power to keep your mother and you safe. But to do that … I would like to tell you a story, and you must both promise me to never tell it to anyone. For the safety of you and your mother.” They nodded, hesitantly, even though Yang certainly didn’t want to hear anymore scary things today. But if it would help keep Ruby and Mom safe-.

Professor Ozpin’s smile faded, but his eyes were still warm, “Once upon a time,” he began, and they listened intently as the man with white hair slowly outlined a story that sounded right out of a fairy tail.

...

Always I Dreamed verse:

Summer had no idea what Professor Ozpin had been thinking, making her the leader of Team STRQ. Then again, the only other real option would have been Taiyang, and as much as she enjoyed his company and was coming to think of him as a good friend and teammate, he wouldn’t have been able to handle the Branwen twins.

Not that Summer was much better at handling the Branwen twins.

They hadn’t done anything to get the team in trouble, but she didn’t know how to deal with them. Taiyang made sense, even if he had a few oddly adorable hangups on things like “modesty” —they were two guys and two girls living in the same room, she didn’t really see what modesty had to do with anything when they weren’t out in public—. Taiyang understood her when she tried to … bond with the team, tried to get them to be more than just four strangers living under the same roof and tackling the same assignments in class. Raven and Qrow on the other hand…

Every time she suggested a group activity, they watched her like she was going to bite. Like they couldn’t fathom the point of learning more about or bonding with anyone outside themselves. Taiyang had suggested it was an out of kingdom thing, but Summer had lived outside the kingdoms until five years ago, and she had never acted like that. Her family hadn’t either. That feral behavior, wary distrust and eerie staring in the middle of the night like even the room wasn’t safe to sleep in without a watch wasn’t anything like what Summer and her family or neighbors had grown up with. The only ones who had acted even similar had been-.

Oh.

Now that’s an idea.

...

Blood of My Blood verse:

The next one was a whole month after Grandma Crepera had first appeared and only a week after the scary man with the mace, but three times was enough for Dionysus to be able to immediately tell what was happening when he blinked his way to awareness in a dream. He looked around uneasily, afraid of being yelled at by someone again, but … there was no one scary nearby. He was in a small little building inside a big, unfamiliar garden. The building was just a roof and little pillars holding it up and a stone floor to stand on with a little table inside and-.

A woman.

She was sitting at the table, working on something, but instead of it being paperwork like Grandpa or taking care of a sword like Uncle Cor, she was … spinning mud? She was making mud spin and pulling at it with her hands, changing its shape with her fingers, and Dionysus hadn’t realized he’d drifted into the gazebo to watch her in awe until she glanced up from her work and smiled at him. She went back to watching her mud, and when she spoke, her voice wasn’t echoing and scary, “Hello. Would you like to join me? I have enough for both of us to use if you like.”

Dionysus watched the spinning-spinning-spinning in awe, but shook his head and tucked his hands behind his back, “Iggy says I can’t play in the mud cause I’ll get dirty an’ it’s unb- unbe- bad for a prince.” He blinked up at her, “How come you’re playing in the mud? Iggy says old people don’ like mud.”

The spinning slowed to a stop as she stared at him and he wondered if she was going to get mad. But then she started laughing, an old, deep sound that felt nice, all the way to his bones, “This is not mud, Cheeky Prince, this is clay. People use it to make things like mugs and teapots and vases. Come, come sit and I will show you how.” She waved her muddy hand and set down a chair next to hers in a flash of magical rosy-blue sparks. So she was family, just like the last ones had been. Dionysus hadn’t known he had so much family before. Then again, he was pretty sure they were all dead, and that’s why they were talking to him in dreams rather than when he was awake —and a part of him wondered if that should scare him, but it didn’t, so as long as they didn’t act scary, he didn’t bother trying—.

Dionysus climbed onto the chair and watched her in curiosity. It still looked a lot like mud to him, but it was a different color from mud, so he supposed it could be something else. The woman was spinning her clay again, fingers deftly shaping and pinching and rubbing, “My name is Nyssia, though some once called me the Just.”

Dionysus thought of the Hall of Arts and all the pictures and statues in it, including some of Grandma Crepera, and wondered if she was one of the pictures in the Hall, “Just like Grandma Crepera?”

An amused twitch of her lips, “Yes, I am like Crepera. We are both related to you, but we are older than King Regis.”

He tilted his head, partially mesmerized by what she was doing with the spinning clay, but curious despite himself about other things. She was like Grandma Crepera and the others, but she hadn’t used a scary voice at all, “How come?”

She hummed without looking away from her work, “How come what, Cheeky Prince? I cannot read your mind.”

Dionysus pouted at her, because wasn’t it obvious what he was asking? But then he said, “You don’ have a scary voice like they do.”

Now she did glance up at him with a look like Grandpa had when he said something silly, “Oh, don’t I?” Dionysus jolted in his seat, startled, but not … scared. Her voice had echoed just now, deep and layered like when Grandma Crepera or Leon had spoken, but it didn’t make him feel like he needed to go hide. It reminded him oddly of the big, booming bells that hung from old church in his favorite movie, loud but mellow. He kind of liked it, but he was still glad when her voice went back to normal as she shrugged, “I merely thought you would not like it if I used that voice. So I did not.”

[sorcerersofnyc]

The Last Thing Left (Zemo x F!Reader) 3/9

If it wasn’t so painfully ironic (and hilarious to watch,) Helmut would find the relationship between Sam and James a little sad.

Ghosts weren’t enough to hold two people together.

While they wait for Torres to locate Donya Madani, Zemo brings Sam and Bucky to the home he once shared with you.

You reunite and he reflects upon his relationship with you (his wife's friend and his friend's wife) and your journey from being people with mutual friends to partners.

Chapter 3: Sam and Bucky try to understand your relationship with Zemo. It isn't complicated, but he remembers a time when things very much were.

Angst, various mentions of death & mourning, Zemo's wife's name is Heike because of comics.  The reader likes waffles (this is a non-negotiable fact)

Note: Main Character is neutral in most regards, but the story was written with my own cultural background in mind. (In other words, I won't say what she looks like but I envision her as being black.)

First Chapter | Previous

***

A fresh breeze filters in through an open window, swaying the room as Helmut’s words take root.

“Partner?” Sam leans forward in curiosity. “You mean like a life partner or a partner in crime?”

“Yes,” is Helmut’s unhelpful reply. He sends you a conspiratorial smile, one you return with a roll of the eyes.

“Helmut and I are engaged in a… civil partnership,” you explain, “for legal reasons.”

“Amongst other things,” he adds.

“Yes, amongst…other things.” A deep honey-like scent wafts into the room from the kitchen as you share a fleeting glance, a private moment despite the scrutiny of James and Sam. You must have put on a pot of tea.

“That should have been in the reports,” James narrows his eyes and examines the room carefully. “Why doesn’t anyone know about you?” Despite his position on the other wall, he angles his body toward Sam, ready to defend against any traps you might spring.

"Well…" you tilt your head in contemplation, "there was a significant delay in the processing of our paperwork. Nothing was documented until after Helmut’s prosecution."

"How much of a delay are we talking about here?" Sam asks, turning his assessing gaze toward Helmut as if to ask, ‘did you do something?’

"Around—what was it, Helmut? A year and a half?"

"18 months," he agrees. “Our paperwork seemed to have gotten misplaced. It's so difficult to find reliable lawyers these days.”

Sam didn’t seem to believe him.

"I'm his spouse on all official records,” You cut in before either of the two to speak, “but I'm sure you understand why privacy is important to me.” When he testified to his crimes, he made it clear that he had no accomplices and the investigation proved the same. The lawyer ‘misplaced’ the paperwork long enough for public interest in his case to die.

You didn’t need that sort of public scrutiny.

Sam seems to agree.

“We would never compromise your safety,” He assures you. He has his own family, people he loves with targets on their backs. He thinks of them as he addresses you.

The teapot whistles in the background.

“Thank you.” You smile and excuse yourself from the room. “The tea is ready.”

Helmut wants to pull you back to him, but he settles on meeting your gaze as you make a hasty retreat through the archway.

You’re gone all but a few seconds before James begins to speak.

"OK Zemo,” He says, his voice low and threatening, “it's about time you tell us what's going on—your partner? Really?"

"I’ve no reason to lie, James—but perhaps you’re not used to honesty,"

“Not from you," James lurches forward like a beast seeking prey. He glares down at Helmut, a mere arm's length from Helmut’s chair.

Helmut doesn't doubt Jame's violent intent, but he isn't particularly afraid. He settles back in his chair, moves his hands along the length of the arms, and brushes a thumb across the cool metal of the gun strapped beneath.

"Simmer down, Buck.” Sam lifts his hands. “This is weird enough as it is.”

James hesitates but relaxes his defensive stance.

"She doesn't seem to like me and Sam," James continues, reclaiming his position on the wall. “I don’t plan on waking up with a knife in my back.”

“She would never do such a thing, it's far too messy." Unbothered by their altercation, Helmut rises from his chair. He moves toward the bay window and liberates a copy of  Arsène Lupin, gentleman-cambrioleur , from the floating shelf.

Before James can say whatever it is he wants to say,  Sam intervenes once again.

“What I think he means is, 'how do we know we can trust her?'”

"You won't come to harm under her care, you have my word."

His word.

James scoffs at the mere suggestion. Trust isn't something that exists between them and it never would.

But the air is so thick with tension and he can hear the unspoken words that linger in the air: ‘What about your late wife?’

So Helmut flips through the book absentmindedly, stopping at a dog-eared page.

“My companion,” he begins to explain, “she was my wife's dearest friend.” He glances up from the pages of the book to meet Sam’s gaze. “She lost her husband when your friends made Sokovia into a battleground so I found it prudent to ensure her wellbeing.”

They're quiet—finally—and Helmut finds their discomfort pleasing.

Turning his attention back to the book, he reads a line you underlined.

'Quel dommage que je ne sois pas un honnête homme!' What a pity that I am not an honest man!'

“Would you like some honeybush tea?” Your voice cuts through the silence a few moments later. You stop at the threshold and gaze back warily gaze wary.

“I expected Helmut to be alone, but I have other drinks too.”

“The Tea is fine, thank you.” He sets down your beloved book and walks across the room to meet you. Ever so gently, Helmut coaxes the tray from your hand and sets it down on the center table.

“I made lunch as well... si comes ese tipo de cosas .” You mutter, leaving the room once again.

Helmut pours himself a cup before gesturing toward the tray.

"Please, you are guests; have a seat, enjoy some tea." Grabbing the book with one hand, Helmut returns to his favorite chair.

James doesn’t move an inch but Sam takes the seat near the window. His body sinks into the fabric with a sigh.

“Hopefully Torres finds Donya soon. I don’t want to impose for too long.”

“She really is a lovely hostess.” Helmut takes a seat and returns the book. “I intend to enjoy her hospitality while I can.”

***

At first, living with you was easy; Helmut stayed out of your way, he spent his time conducting research and it was quiet.

But the walls were thin and noise echoed through the open vents—He could hear you crying late at night.

He wanted to help, but he had no temporary comforts to offer. The only thing he had was his anger and his plan. You’d rest easier with the Avengers buried in the ash heap, he told himself. That day, when you hugged him, he felt as though you encroached on something, something that would break if he failed to tread lightly.

When you looked as though you wanted to talk or share a fond memory, he mentioned something about the old-fashioned décor and suggested that you change something. He bought you books from the shops he passed on the streets, jars of pigment, and blocks of clay.

He observed you, found what you liked, and got them for you.

“Thank you,” you’d say with a smile, and that was more than enough for him.

He didn’t expect you to return the favor.

But then you’d do things like make him breakfast (always with black coffee and a side of bacon, his favorite.) You’d buy pillows in the same specific shade of burgundy to accent the walls. You’d leave the paper on the kitchen island and kept a jar of honey with the tea.

And he hated you for that, for doing the things Heike would do, for sharing her habits, humor, and sensibilities.

‘Good morning, Helmut,' you would say in the morning, 'Would you like to visit the market with me?’ or, ‘Helmut, you can’t survive off coffee, aren't you hungry?’

He’d refuse you every time.

It was difficult, disappointing you,  but the thought of enjoying a pleasant breakfast, or taking a stroll through the market hurt even more.

He could still feel their bodies buried beneath his feet.

So he opted for uncomfortable silence, and unsteady peace, the ghosts of your loved ones a wall between you.

*

Weeks went by and he continued his research. It took a while, but Helmut could see the steps of a plan unfolding in his mind.

He wouldn’t be the one to send the Avengers to their graves, he’d make them kill each other—and for that, he would need the Winter Soldier, James Buchanan Barnes.

So one day, after reading and rereading the S.H.I.E.L.D.  files he managed to decrypt, he told you he was going on a trip.

“There’s business that I need to attend to.”

“You’re leaving?” You looked up from the clay you were molding. It hadn’t yet taken form, just a sad lump of grey. “For how long?”

“Not long.” He promised, “I’ll be back soon.”

But he returned two weeks later.

Exhausted, Helmut had just taken off his shoes when you walked upstairs to meet him, red power on your hands.

“Helmut! Where were you?” You demanded before you took notice of your tone, the accusation present in your voice. You amended your words quickly.  “I was worried... I missed you while you were gone.”

“My apologies,” was his unsatisfactory reply, his back still turned.

When he finally turned to look in your direction, you wore a troubled look upon your face, and the look reminded him of Heike.

It was the worry of a soldier's wife, of someone waiting by the door to greet an unknown future.

“I’m sorry,” he offered, genuinely this time, and placed a hand on your shoulder.

For a moment that you would reject him. He was certain you considered doing just that, but when you didn’t move or knock away his touch, a strange sense of relief filled him.

You sighed.

"When you've gotten settled, come down for dinner.” It was an order, he realized, not a request.

"Of course." An amused smile tugged at his cheeks.

"Where did you go?" You asked, lingering by the door as he set down his bag. He wasn’t dressed for business in his drab gray jacket and worn shoes.

“I visited an auction house out east."

“An auction house?” You tilted your head and assessed his clothing again. “To bid?”

“Not exactly."

Not at all, really.

He tracked down information about an auction where fanatics were gathered to bid on HYDRA paraphernalia. He hoped to find the book that once belonged to the Winter Soldier's handler, but it wasn't didn’t exist amongst the garbage he found there.

The trip hadn't been a complete waste, however. He managed to rid the world of a few dozen agents and others who would support their cause—but he wouldn’t tell you that.

"What I hoped to find wasn't there.” He settled on saying.

“It took you weeks to do that?”

“I needed to visit Berlin as well. My family collected many cars over the generations. I’ll take you to see them one day if you like.”

Helmut had no plans to get you involved in his plan to end the Avengers,  he couldn't. But he remained true to his word and joined you for dinner that night.

He helped you set the table and you ate paprikash (which, he assumed, you made for his benefit more than your own.)

"Ozenik suggested I make it," you explained. "It was never my favorite but it was fun to make."

"You did a good job."

"Thanks...I thought was time to try something new."

He agreed.

You ate dinner together the next night too, and the next, and the next night after that.

Helmut grew to enjoy the time you spent together—it was a pleasant change of pace.

Even so, he had his ‘business’ to attend to. He would still have to leave.

Sometimes he would go for hours, sometimes he’d be gone for days, and sometimes entire weeks would go by and Helmut wouldn't call or even text you.

And you were frustrated.

Once he returned home to find you painting angry red lines across what might have been an abstract swirl of blue and gray.

One evening discovered you rearranged the dining room completely.

Then one day, during dinner, you attempted to bridge the gap between you once again.

"I received a message last night," You began, "a reminder that I purchased tickets to see a play last year.” It was summer, but the season had been unusually rainy, confining you inside for most of the week. “I’d have to travel to see it but it might be fun. Would you like to see it with me?”

"I'll be gone again soon," Helmut told you. “My apologies.”

You frowned.

"I haven't even told you the date. How do you know you’ll be busy?"

"I have plenty of work to keep me busy through the end of the year." His reply hung in the air for what felt like an eternity. He didn’t even bother to look up as he continued. "If you need to travel, I'll speak with Oeznik about arranging that for you."

You looked down at your plate, sighed, and set down your utensils.

"It's fine." You told him, but it wasn't. You were angry at his rejection, at his nonchalance.

"You know...you don't need to force yourself to be here with me, Helmut." You stared directly across the table at him, meeting his gaze. "We don't have to stay together if you don't want to. I have my benefits from the veterans association now so...if there's somewhere else you'd rather be-"

"There isn't." Helmut looked at you, his eyes dark piercing. "How could you think that?"

“How could I not when I never know if you're going off to the market or leaving for weeks?” A dangerous edge crept into your voice and you didn’t bother to amend it. “What sort of 'business' are you conducting? You won't even tell me."

"You don't need to worry," he tried to assure you, but his weak appeal only seemed to make you angrier.

And that anger, your anger,  frustrated him to no end.

Who were you to question what he did with his time?

Heike always understood when he was gone for longer than expected. When he returned, she greeted him with joy and relief, not accusation and scorn.

But you...he didn't know what he expected from you.

You weren’t his wife, you weren’t involved romantically. You weren't even friends, not really.

So really, what tethered him to this place?

What he planned to do was dangerous; he might not even survive. He fulfilled his promise to see after your well-being, did everything he said he'd do, and yet...and yet…

You sighed, huffed really, and gathered your plates quickly.

“I’m trying, I’m really trying but I’m tired, Helmut,” you told him. “You go and move us to this...this ritzy tourist city and what am I supposed to do? Find friends with similar life experiences? I can’t even sleep through the night and you...you just...” You take a breath as you turn away, leaving with your half-eaten plate.

“I don't... I don't fit in here.” You confess resignation carried in your voice. “I don’t think you understand that and I don’t think we’re good for each other either. ” You decided. “We’re too different. I appreciate you trying to help me, I do, but… but maybe I should leave.”

***

Thanks for reading! You’ve come so far and soon you will be rewarded. Next chapter we’ll see the steps Helmut took to amend your relationship. And in the present timeline, we get to see something super cute (something that involves hand-holding, perhaps?)

Feedback is very much appreciated. Please tell me what you think!

Tag list: 

@actuallyanita

@fillechatoyante

@viviace 

@buckyandlokicanhaveme

Previous | Next

[flameo-firelord-hotman]

(Not So) Complicated — Zuko x Fem!Reader

Genre: angst/fluff

Warnings: none

Words: 2.6k

Summary: you and Zuko had eyes for each other, but Zuko was afraid you wouldn’t return his feelings because of his identity. One day, you ask him on a date.

A/N: this is my contribution to @fromthewatertribe‘s 1k event! I used prompt #23: “I really like having you around.” It was heavily inspired by the date Zuko had with Jin. I didn’t intend for it to be so long, but alas...this always happens whenever I write anything. This is my first fic btw, please go easy on me. Enjoy! :)

Masterlist

The boy noticed. He noticed the girl who always sat in the corner coming in more often. He attributed it to becoming more familiar with frequent customers, but that wasn’t entirely true. How could he not notice her? She was pretty and kind. He wanted to asked her out, but he was afraid to. He wondered how she would react to his true identity.

A banished Fire Nation prince who spent years searching and hunting down the avatar only to become wanted by his country…that’s who he was. She would hate him, turn him into the Dai Li if she found out. It would be too risky, he decided. And so, he pushed his feelings away to focus on his new job: making tea.

“Zuko,” whispered the boy’s uncle.

“What?”

“She’s here!”

Zuko furrowed his eyebrows. “Who?”

“That girl!”

Zuko finished wiping the teapot before turning around. And there she was: the girl who always sat in the corner, who was, of course, sitting at the table in the corner.

“You should take her order, and...maybe have a little chit chat,” uncle Iroh said, nudging Zuko with his elbow.

“Ugh, no,” Zuko grumbled, “I’m not flirting with a customer, uncle.”

“Oh, come on. I see the way you look at her. I also see the way she looks at you.” Uncle Iroh turned to face him. “I think it’s mutual,” he said, bouncing his eyebrows up and down.

“Tch, you’re ridiculous. I’ll take her order, but that’s it!” Zuko hissed.

Secretly, Zuko was a happy to take her order. Another secret was that Zuko didn’t need to take her order. He had it memorized. The girl always ordered a cup of ginger tea. As much as he ignored his feelings, he had to admit that he still enjoyed seeing her.

Zuko grabbed a pad of paper and pencil, though he didn’t need it, and walked up to the girl. “Hello, how can I help you today?”

She looked at him and smiled sweetly. “Hi! Can I have ginger tea?” she asked.

He nodded. “Sure, I’ll bring it to you in a moment,” said Zuko as he (unnecessarily) noted her order. Ignoring the smirk on uncle Iroh’s face, he brewed a pot of ginger tea, poured it into a simple, clay cup, and returned to the girl.

“Here you go,” he said, offering the warm cup. The girl thanked him, took the cup and handed him several coins in exchange. Just as he was about to leave, she asked, “what’s your name?”

Zuko was a little surprised. They never talked beyond greeting each other and ordering tea. It seemed out of the blue, but, then again, it was just a simple question. It didn’t really mean anything, right?

“My name? It’s, uh, Lee,” he replied, giving her his fake name.

Finally, she could put a name to his handsome face. After frequenting the tea shop almost daily for the past couple weeks, the girl thought it was about time she learned his name and introduced herself. “Nice to meet you, Lee. My name is [y/n].”

“Nice to meet you too, [y/n].”

[Y/n] also thought it was about time she made a move. “I know we’ve only just introduced ourselves,” she began, her fingers anxiously tracing the rim of the cup, “but I was wondering if, maybe, you’d like to go out sometime?”

Zuko was very surprised now. Maybe his uncle was right; the feelings were mutual. Still, things were complicated. He was a Fire Nation prince; she was an Earth Kingdom commoner. There was no way [y/n] would be okay with who he was really was: an enemy. But as risky as it would be, he couldn’t say no. He couldn’t break her heart. That would be harsh, he thought, but it would only be one date, one night out…how bad could it be?

“My nephew would love too!”

Zuko snapped back to reality. He didn’t realize it, but he had been standing there, staring at her in shock for quite some time. Uncle Iroh patted him on the back as if to say “you’re welcome.” Zuko looked at his uncle and internally thanked him.

“Uh, yes, sorry about that, yes, I would like to,” Zuko blurted with a blush forming across his cheeks. It made [y/n] giggled.

“Great! I’ll meet you outside the shop at sunset tonight,” she cheered.

[Y/n] was so excited for her date. She spent all afternoon getting ready. After going through her entire closet, she decided on a long, jade green dress with long sleeves. Then, she spent the rest of her free time doing her hair and makeup. Her heart pounded as she made her way to the tea shop. When she rounded the corner, she saw him waiting outside.

“Lee!” she shouted as she jogged up to him. He was wearing a dark green tunic over an olive green shirt and pants. “It’s weird not seeing you in your uniform, but you look great,” she grinned.

Zuko blushed. “Thanks. Um, you look nice too,” he stuttered, scratching the back of his neck. As much as he wanted to tell her that she looked absolutely beautiful, he didn’t want to come off too strong. This was supposed to be a one-time thing, and then he would come up with some excuse to not go out again and forget about his crush.

“Thanks. Come on, let’s get some food,” said [y/n] eagerly. She clutched his hand and led him to one of her favorite restaurants.

Dinner wasn’t too awkward, but it could’ve been better. [Y/n] tried to make conversation, but the two didn’t go beyond small talk. Zuko just didn’t want to talk much, not because he was shy, but because he didn’t enjoy lying about himself, especially to the girl he liked, and feared he might give himself away. Unfortunately, he was not as good of a liar as his sister. Silence was his friend tonight. Despite that, [y/n] was determined to have a good time with him.

“I want to show you one of my favorite places in the city. Come on!” [y/n] said, grabbing his hand. She ran down the empty, cobblestone street, dragging Zuko behind. The street opened up to a large intersection with a stone fountain in the center covered and surrounded by paper lanterns. However, none of the lanterns were lit. [Y/n] frowned. This date was not going well at all.

“I can’t believe it. The lanterns aren’t lit tonight! It’s always so beautiful when they are...” said [y/n] cheerlessly. She looked away from Zuko to hide her watering eyes.

Zuko felt bad. It was his fault that dinner was so awkward, but it was too late to do anything about that now. This, however, was something he could fix. It would be so easy, yet so dangerous. Zuko would be risking everything, but it would be worth making [y/n] happy. Maybe if I’m quick, no one will notice…but what would she think? He pondered for a moment. Then, he decided.

“Close your eyes,” he told [y/n], “and don’t peak!”

[Y/n] did as he said. She closed her eyes and covered them with her hands. Zuko looked around. The area was empty; no one was around. Quickly, he got into a firebending stance and flicked his hands in all directions, aiming small blasts of fire at each of the lanterns. Soon, the soft, golden light from the flames of the lanterns illuminated the space. Water flowing in the fountain appeared to glow and sparkle. It really was beautiful just as [y/n] said it would be.

“Okay, you can open your eyes now,” said Zuko. And [y/n] did. Her jaw dropped at the sight.

“Wow,” [y/n] said in awe. The fountain looked exactly like it always did when it was lit up, but it never ceased to amaze her. But something wasn’t quite right. “I don’t understand. What happened? How did…” she trailed off, turning to look at Zuko. He gave her a small, nervous smile for an answer. [Y/n] decided not to push it. She knew. There was no other possible explanation.

And she was okay with it, but Zuko wouldn’t know it, because what Zuko didn’t know was that [y/n] was unlike most Earth Kingdom citizens. She never immediately hated someone for being a firebender. Her parents taught her that there are good people and bad people everywhere—even in her home town—and that everyone is capable of change—even our enemies. So, she was determined to prove to him that she was okay with who he was.

Gently, [y/n] moved her hands to take his. They were sweaty, he was obviously nervous, but she didn’t mind. Facing each other, the two locked eyes.

“Now, it’s your turn to close your eyes,” said [y/n].

Zuko did as she said. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, preparing himself for whatever was to come. To be honest, he wasn’t sure what it would be. A kiss? A slap to face? He wasn’t sure which one he was more afraid of. His eyelids twitched from the anticipation.

Slowly, [y/n] stood on her toes and leaned in to softly press her lips to his. Zuko impulsively reciprocated, but only for a moment. Suddenly, his eyes widened as he realized what was happening, and he pushed himself away from her. [Y/n] was startled and confused. “What’s wrong?” she asked.

Zuko paused and looked at the ground in shame. “It’s complicated,” was the only answer he could give her. “I have to go.”

“Wait!” shouted [y/n], grabbing his wrist. “Just tell me. Why is it complicated?”

Zuko didn’t know how to respond. How was he supposed to explain that he was the crowned prince of the Fire Nation, and that he had been banished for years, and that he had been tasked with capturing the avatar, and that he had become wanted, and that he had a huge crush on her, and that she deserved someone better? He didn’t know. Again, he looked at the ground in shame.

“It’s because you’re a firebender, isn’t it?”

Zuko’s snapped his head up in shock. Not necessarily because she figured it out, but because she said it out loud and so plainly. It was a genuine question. He sensed no anger, no fear.

[Y/n] chuckled when he didn’t respond. “Oh, come on, Lee. Those lanterns didn’t light themselves. It’s okay. I’m not afraid of who you are.”

“You’re not?” he asked in disbelief.

[Y/n] shook her head and clasped his hand with hers. “I’m not. Come sit with me.” She led Zuko to the edge of the fountain. Zuko was hesitant, but followed and sat next to her. [Y/n] wanted to be someone he could trust. She wanted Zuko to feel comfortable with her. There was no doubt in her mind that being a firebender in Ba Sing Se made making friends difficult, let alone going on dates.

“There are good people in the Fire Nation. I know it. Just like how there are bad people in the Earth Kingdom. Maybe not as many or as bad, but still…it’s like what my parents used to tell me: there’s good and bad in every person, every group and every nation.”

She sounded like his uncle, and Zuko found it endearing. He also appreciated the fact that she was being so kind and optimistic, but he had to be honest with her. “Well, I’m not a very good person. I’ve actually done some pretty bad things…” he mumbled.

Despite his confession, [y/n] wasn’t scared. Zuko had many chances to hurt her on their date, and he never did. “So why are you here then? Why aren’t you living in the Fire Nation? Why aren’t you burning down villages or attacking people? Why did you come to Ba Sing Se?” she asked persistently.

Zuko thought for a moment. He thought about telling her everything, but it was one thing to be just another enemy and another to be the son of the Firelord. It would be too much for her to handle.

“It’s complicated,” he said, looking at the ground yet again.

“Was it to run away? To have a fresh start?”

“In a way...yes,” Zuko replied.

“Good. There’s no better place to change yourself than here! It’s safe and full of opportunities. Though, it must be hard not being able to be ‘yourself,’ if you know what I mean,” said [y/n].

Zuko sighed and nodded his head in agreement. “It sucks, but it’s not nearly as bad as what others have to experience because of my people.”

“I’m glad you recognize that.”

“How can I not? I feel ashamed of who I am…”

“Don’t be.” Zuko turned to [y/n], curious as to why he shouldn’t be. Any other Earth Kingdom citizen would’ve hissed at him and called him an ash-maker. [Y/n] continued, “we can’t choose where we come from. But every day we have an opportunity to be a better person!”

It was probably another proverb her parents told her, and it was just what he needed to hear. Zuko smiled. For once in his life, he felt okay with his identity. He felt at peace. “You’re right. Thanks,” he said gratefully.

“Of course!” [y/n] cheered. “It’s getting late now. We should go home.”

The two walked hand in hand to [y/n]’s apartment. Neither of them said anything on the way. They didn’t need to. They had done enough talking for tonight and just wanted to enjoy being together.

“I had a good time tonight, even if things got a little…awkward. Um, do you think we could do this again?” asked Zuko, scratching the back of his neck.

[Y/n] beamed. “I’d love to!”

“Really? I mean, great! How about...this weekend?”

[Y/n] nodded, “sure!”

“And please feel free to stop by the tea shop,” Zuko begged, a blush dusting his cheeks. “I really like having you around.”

[Y/n] felt her heart flutter. He didn’t have to tell her to stop by, she already planned on it, but hearing him say that filled her with joy. “I will,” she promised, “good night, Lee!”

“Good night, [y/n]. Oh, by the way, Lee isn’t my real name,” Zuko said, leaning in to whisper in her ear, “it’s Zuko.”

[Y/n] gently cupped his cheek. “Your secret is safe with me, Zuko,” she whispered back reassuringly. She softly pecked his cheek before walking into her apartment. All the while, Zuko watched her, the girl who always sat in the corner, completely lovestruck.

Back at Zuko’s apartment, uncle Iroh was tidying up the place, when Zuko walked in.

“You’re back! How was your date?” his uncle asked, raising his eyebrows.

“Um, it was nice. We’re going out again this weeken—”

“Oh, I’m so happy for you!” his uncle exclaimed, leaping to Zuko and embracing him tightly. “I never thought I’d see the day my dearest nephew would have a lady friend! Tell me about her. Have you kissed yet? When are you inviting her over for dinner? Did you confess your feelings for her?”

“Okay, uncle, that’s enough!”

[birthdaytoast]

c o f f e e s h o p

@ang3lba3 and I combined this ask with @rockpapertheodore ‘s request for “cumbending.” It takes place in the republic city housewives AU, which you don’t need to know to understand (it’s literally just a republic city au)> Also, it’s NSFW but like, barely. 

The thing about Sokka, is that it’s easy to forget how smart he is. Between his terrible sense of humor, his dedication to slapstick, and his general disdain for academia, he’s pretty easily underestimated. 

“It’s a simple question, Zuko, yes or no?” Sokka asks, obstinately. His arms are crossed, and he’s pouting.

“I— it is not a simple question, and I’m not qualified to answer it,” Zuko says. “And this isn’t the place for this.”

They’re in public. Somehow, through sheer cleverness, Sokka’s managed to engage Zuko in another outrageous argument where people can hear it.  

“Sounds like someone’s not as good a bender as he says he is,” Sokka sighs, slouching in apparent defeat.

It’s not even a particularly clever manipulation on Sokka’s part, is the thing. Sokka’s smart enough to play him better, to be more subtle. But he doesn’t need to be, because he plays Zuko like a harp. 

“NO!” Zuko snaps. “No, okay?!” The entire shop twists to look at him, but it’s just for a moment. They’re used to him.

He lowers his voice anyways, leaning forward to hiss at Sokka. “No, I don’t think there are cumbenders. The fifth element, if it exists, would be— spirit, or life. Not semen.”

Sokka’s eyes glint in victory, and he matches Zuko’s pose, leaning his elbow on the table and resting his chin on his palm thoughtfully. “I never said a thing about any fifth element. Jizz is made of liquid, right?” 

“Why—” Zuko asks, desperately. He was going to ask why Sokka hasn’t asked a waterbender about this, but then he realized he didn’t want to hear about it if he had. “I’m a firebender. That doesn’t mean I can bend— hot air. Mercury is a liquid, but it’s not water.”

“Hm,” Sokka says, eyebrow arching. “But-- you can bend heat. You do it all the time, when you make your hands cold and put them down my--” 

“My heat,” Zuko emphasizes, and then puts his face in his hands. “Shut up. Shut up. Don’t fucking say it.”

Sokka doesn’t need to, grinning huge as Jin strolls over with a wooden tray in her hands. 

“Hey guys!” Jin says, cheerfully. “Whatchya talking about?”

“Zuko just raised a very interesting point about how waterbenders can bend their own cum,” Sokka answers cheerfully. 

Jin, bless her and damn her both, is completely unfazed. “Wouldn’t they be able to bend all cum?” she asks, leaning the tray at an angle against her hip. “I mean, it’s liquid, right?”

“That’s what I’m saying!” Sokka says, snapping his fingers decisively. 

“This is a nightmare,” Zuko mutters. “I’m going to wake up.”

“Aww, you dream about me?” Jin asks, twirling her hair on her finger.  

Sokka opens his mouth and Zuko knows, he knows that he’s about to say something humiliating. So he jumps to his feet and shouts, eyes drawn to him again, “I WOULD LOVE TO TRY YOUR NEW DRINK PLEASE.” 

“There’s a new drink?” Jin asks Sokka, intrigued. Sokka mouths special sauce at her. She mouths nonsense back, to indicate she hadn’t caught it.

“How perceptive,” Uncle says from the drape that hangs over the door to the kitchens. “I wasn’t sure if I would try it. Here, we can try it together.” 

“I will get you for this,” Zuko tells Sokka in an undertone, finger jabbing at him furiously. Then he turns to his Uncle, grimace fixed firmly on his face. “Sounds great.”

“Uncle!” Sokka says happily, eyes on Zuko’s. “We’re having a debate. What have you got for us?” He pulls out a seat for Uncle, taking the tray from his hands and setting it on the table in front of them. 

The tea set is a deep brown, the cups larger but more shallow than the ones he typically uses in the teashop. There’s a strange, indecipherable scent trailing from the spout of the teapot in a misty swirl. 

“Hmm,” Uncle says, settling in with a huff. Zuko, resigned, sits down. The shop returns to their own, probably blissfully cum free, conversations. “I would be willing to trade one honest opinion for another. What is the topic?”

“Wheth--” “Whether or not benders can bend things outside of their elements,” Zuko interrupts, stomping on Sokka’s foot. 

“It’s not outside of their element, it’s a liquid,” Jin insists. 

“Don’t you have customers?” Zuko asks meanly. 

“I don’t work here,” Jin says dismissively. 

“What?” 

“It’s true, she doesn’t,” Uncle says casually, patting the chair next to him. Jin sits down, settling her serving tray on her lap. She’s wearing one of the Jasmine Dragon’s aprons, identical to the one that Uncle has on. 

“Well, if you want the good coupons, raw sexual appeal will only get you so far,” Jin says, reasonably. 

“So if I were to sneeze,” Sokka says, and Uncle scowls at him and puts a protective arm over the tea-set. “Hypothetically! Hypothetically sneeze, would a waterbender be able to--” “I don’t think that’s better,” Zuko moans, making a face. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.” 

“Ah,” Uncle says, wisely. “Piss. Yes, they can.”

Zuko grabs the pot of tea, and pours it directly into his mouth, managing to mostly empty it. It’s disgusting, bitter and burnt.

“Alright, there’s Uncle’s opinion,” Zuko says. “Uncle, my honest opinion is this tastes horrible.”

“Yes, I thought that might be the case. Some enterprising individuals assure me that this drink is gaining popularity in Ba Sing Se, specifically for its medicinal purposes. Alas, ground beans did sound too good to be true.” Uncle sighs, stroking his beard. 

“It’s not even leaf water?” Zuko asks. His skin is starting to feel strange, buzzing slightly. His face flushes. 

Sokka and Jin are staring at him. They stare at him a lot, but this is different, like they’re judging him. He scowls, and blushes more, and crosses his arms. “WHAT,” he asks, too loud. He twitches. His fire feels— odd. It’s sliding through his veins so easily. “What. Medicinal properties?”

Uncle is also staring at him now. So is everyone else in the shop, and Zuko’s heart pounds in his chest as he slides further down the seat and pulls the collar of his robe up and over his mouth. 

He can feel every hair on his head. He thinks he can feel hairs he hasn’t grown yet. 

“Hm. Perhaps I should have investigated that aspect more thoroughly,” Uncle says. Sokka’s expression has gone from gleeful to worried, and he leans forward, reaching for Zuko. 

“I’m fine,” Zuko says, high pitched. He moves to his feet, dodging Sokka’s hands. “Stop— don’t look at me. Stop looking at me. Is it hot in here? It’s hot in here, isn’t it.”

He bounces on the balls of his feet, flapping his hands at his face to try and get some circulation.

Sokka frowns and looks to the other cups of brown, stinking liquid. Then, in slow motion, horror dragging through Zuko’s veins, he shrugs. And. Downs one. “BLECH,” Sokka says, wrinkling his nose and sticking out his tongue. “Why is it so thick?” 

“Bottoms up!” Jin says, holding her nose as she gulps hers. She gags a little, but pushes through it like a real champ.

The bean-tea in the pot had been less thick. Probably. Zuko rolls his tongue over his teeth, briefly absorbed by the sensation. 

“Gritty,” he says.

“Sandy,” Sokka agrees. 

“That would be the ground beans,” Uncle says. “Hm. Do you think that earthbenders can bend ground items?”

“There would have to be earth in them,” Sokka says, blinking rapidly. Jin is sitting completely still for the first time Zuko’s ever seen. 

Zuko forces himself to sit back down. 

“Beans come from the earth,” he says. 

“And cum comes from the soul,” Sokka says sagely. “So, the Avatar--” Uncle stands abruptly, takes the tray, and heads back to the kitchens while Zuko’s still trying to process the words cum and Sokka’s mouth and Uncle, sitting right there. 

“Hey!” Jin says, and follows him. “Wait, I think whatever it does is working on me!”

(Safely ensconced in the kitchen, with only Jin to see, Iroh lets himself break into giggles. Zuko’s face.)

“Wow,” Zuko says, wonderingly. “I guess I’m going to kill you and then myself.” 

“Aww,” Sokka says, and puts a hand over Zuko’s. Zuko’s fingers twitch feebly. Murderously. “You’re a real romantic, Zuko. Did you know that? Have I told you that today?”

“I believe all cumbending should be saved for committed relationships,” Zuko says, trying to convince himself not to dig his nails into Sokka’s hand. He digs them into the table instead.

“I kinda wanna cumbend right now,” Sokka grins. His legs are shaking under the table. Zuko knows, because it’s shaking the table, their actual leaf-water teacups tinkling as they shudder against the little clay plates. 

“I’m gonna cumbend you into a dumpster,” Zuko says, and threads their fingers together. He stands, because he can’t stand to sit any longer. “My room’s an acceptable substitute. Unfortunately.”

“Your room is a dumpster,” Sokka agrees, skip-hopping over to the stairs, dragging Zuko along behind him. “This stuff was gross. We should let Katara look at it. Does your Uncle have more? See if your Uncle has more, I want some for myself. I bet I could make it taste good.” 

“Uh huh. Keep talking. See if I bend anything for you,” Zuko says, unlocking the apartment. “I need to move out. I can’t ever speak to him again.”

“I know I say that I can make anything taste good, but I truly mean it. This won't be like that spicy bread bowl thing, I’m pretty sure that if I add--”

“Sokka,” Zuko sighs, opening the door. “Stop calling it spicy.”

“Do you think that you can bend my cum if it’s spicy?” Sokka asks, and Zuko gives into the temptation and shoves him back against the couch. 

“You’re pretty hot,” he says, toppling him. “Why don’t I just bend you?”

Sokka doesn’t answer. Instead he just-- giggles. A lot. It’s adorable. “I thought you’d never ask,” he finally says, and Zuko realizes-- he’s been played. Spirits, but it’s easy to forget how smart Sokka is, sometimes. 

“That is not acceptable foreplay,” he says, climbing on top of him. It’s a ‘do what I say, not what I do’ kind of situation. He rests his ass on Sokka’s stomach, so that if he wants any kind of friction he’ll have to grab his hips, move him. He points threateningly down into Sokka’s face. “This isn’t going to work again.”

“I’m thinking, more water, less heat,” Sokka says conversationally. His hands settle on Zuko’s hips, fingers twitching, tapping an erratic pattern against his skin. “Maybe something sweet? Or, something creamy? Lots of people don’t like sealcow milk, I wonder--” 

“Shut up,” Zuko groans. He kisses him, entirely out of self defense. Not because this is working on him.

“Mff, Zuko, I think I’m onto something,” Sokka says against his mouth. He’s laughing, though, and his hands clutch more forcefully at Zuko’s hips, obviously having him on. 

“No, I’m on some thing,” Zuko says, twitching his hips teasingly, bumping at the head of Sokka’s erection.

Sokka’s eyes shine, all squinty and cute with the force of his amusement. “Not yet you’re not, if you don’t stop wasting time talking.” 

Zuko slides further up Sokka’s stomach. “Actually, no, why don’t you tell me about how you’re going to fix the horrible bean juice? I don’t know what I was saying earlier, it’s a real stimulating top—”

“I’m a stimulating top,” Sokka says, and there’s a gasp and a giggle and lots of movement and then, not very much talking at all. 

At one point, lost in ecstasy, Zuko thinks he hears Sokka murmur, “cumbending, go.” 

He pretends he doesn’t. 

That’s what love is, sometimes.

[delible-ink]

Clayleb Week Day 1: From the Ashes

For: @claylebweek

“Mr. Caleb? Mr. Caleb?”

The voice broke through a scene on repeat and Caleb followed it, away from the charred remains of his parents, his ruined childhood home. He followed it past the decimated body of the hobgoblin in front of him, flames still licking the edges of its clothing. He kept following, until his eyes landed upon the speaker: Caduceus. The cleric smiled warmly, his expression was soft, and one of his arms was around Caleb’s shoulders.

“You left me for a little while there.Are you here now?”

“Ja. I am. Ja. Danke, Herr Clay.”

“That’s good. Real good. I’m glad to hear it. I think we’d better stick close together, and start heading back. Don’t know if there’s more of them.”

“Let’s hope not. I have had enough fighting today, and it is getting dark.” Caleb stumbled, and he felt his stomach churn when he looked again at the corpse.

“Oh, Careful there. Here. Just lean on me. That’s it. You’ll feel steadier soon.” Caduceus cast Decompose, and as mushrooms bloomed from the rapidly disappearing corpse, Caleb exhaled, and turned his focus ahead. Slowly, the two men made their way back to the rest of the party.  

“Nott, how’s it look out there?” Fjord called as the goblin crept back to the cart. It had been a long day: the Mighty Nein had already had a bad run in with a pack of wolves, their horses were faltering, and while they preferred not to sleep on the road, it was getting too late to hope for an inn.

“Empty. No villages. Not even a homestead. Looks like it’s camping for us tonight.”

“Better be extra cautious tonight, if we’re staying here.” Caduceus recommended as he joined them, one arm still supporting Caleb. Nott ran to his side immediately. “Caleb! What happened to you? Caduceus, what happened to Caleb?!”

“I am alright, schatz, I am fine.” Caduceus let go of Caleb, as Nott took his place.

“We were attacked by a hobgoblin. Caleb saved our lives. Just had a rough moment afterwards.” 

Beau looked up when Caduceus mentioned Caleb’s moment, but relaxed when she saw Nott had it handled.

“Only one?” Jester asked. “Fjord, I’ve still got some spells left, I could go see if there’s more and take ‘em out--”

“No, Jessie, no. Let’s not go lookin’ for trouble, alright?”

“Jester, I will keep watch with you tonight, if it’ll make you feel better.” Yasha offered. “If more hobgoblins show up, we can tear them apart--and you can braid my hair if they don’t.”

“I LOVE that! Yes! We call first watch!”

“I’ll take second” Caduceus added.

“I will join you in that, if you do not mind, Caduceus.”

“I’d like that, Caleb.”

In long hours of the night, Caduceus breathed deeply, and felt at peace. He loved the cool night air, especially with the promise of a warm cup of tea, and good company to share it with. Watches with Caleb were always nice. Caleb was never bothered when Caduceus just wanted to be somewhere, without speaking. At sea, sometimes they would just sit together in the crow’s nest and listen to the waves, or Caleb would come into the galley after dinner, help with dishes, and then read his book while Caduceus made tea or checked their supplies. They never talked about why. Caduceus didn’t think it was all that complicated. They enjoyed each other’s company, and that was that. 

He wondered about Caleb a lot. A grave digger was not unfamiliar with the marks death leaves on people. He had seen mourners like Caleb, ones who got torn out of the present to revisit the past, never by choice, never for happy reasons. Caduceus thought they had hungry memories. The moment that caused them was so big, it needed to be fed, and the only way it could do that was to take the rememberer back again and again. His mother said that it could heal, but it takes time, and honesty, and love. She said love from outside could fill the memory better than a person reliving it alone, and eventually the memory would be full. It would go to sleep. The pain would still be there, but it would not keep eating the rememberer.

Caduceus wished he could help Caleb with that memory. He didn’t even know what it was, what fire had done that took Caleb so far away, but Caleb never offered more than he had after Felderwin, and that experience had been horrible to witness. Caduceus was not going to put Caleb through more pain. When it came to healing, he was pretty sure that, while Caleb may have had time, honesty and love had been in short supply. Caduceus found he wanted to help with that too.

Across the campfire Caleb was drawing symbols in the earth, clearing them away with his boot, and starting again. He felt restless. It was part of why he offered to take the second watch. He did not particularly want to sleep. He’d watched his parents die enough today, and his mind was a glutton for punishment. He doubted there’d be peace in unconsciousness. Around Caduceus, his mind went a little quiet. It hadn’t always been like that. The man’s perception was uncanny, and the possibility of a mind-reader in their midst made Caleb deeply uneasy. But as time went on, he found that more than anything, Caduceus was a good listener, and he listened when people weren’t speaking, just as well as when they were. He had been afraid someone with Caduceus’ moral compass would see him for the monster he was, but instead, time and time again, Caduceus had offered compassion. He seemed to understand things Caleb couldn’t say, and there was a warmth in his chest whenever he thought about that. 

A flare of sparks pulled Caleb from his train of thought, and he heard Caduceus gasp. Caleb was on his feet in an instant, looking into the fire he saw the tea pot, which had been hanging on the end of Caduceus’ staff, had fallen into the heart of the coals. Before Caduceus could do anything, Caleb knelt, reached into the embers, and pulled the pottery from the flames.

“Caleb, don’t! You’ll burn yourself--” Caduceus put a hand out to stop him as Caleb turned, his hands bathed in blue flame of his own making. He cradled the teapot in his grasp, unscathed.

“I’m alright, Caduceus. Here.” Caleb extinguished his flame and set the pot on the ground in front of them, sitting close to Caduceus. “No harm done.” 

“Thank you Mr. Caleb.” Caduceus breathed, and you would have thought Caleb had just rescued a child from the fire, the way he looked at him. 

“It was no trouble, really.” 

“This pot was my mother’s. She always took it with her when she went wandering in the woods…She left it behind...” when she left me, but Caduceus let that thought stay silent. He didn’t need to trouble Caleb.

“Then we will have to take good care of it, ja? Next time, I will build you a spit to hold it, so you do not have to balance on your staff.”

“Thank you. That’s...yeah that would be good.”

Caduceus added his tea to the boiling water, and produced two stone cups. Sharing tea was like a ritual for Caduceus, and Caleb was fascinated by it. Steam and herbaceous aromas rose from the cup as Caduceus handed it over. Caleb’s fingers brushed his own, and they lingered just a moment too long, as if Caleb was trying to say something with his hands that he hadn’t given voice to earlier today. Caduceus smiled shyly, and Caleb looked away. It was difficult to say if there was a blush to Caleb’s cheeks, or just the firelight, but both men smiled into their tea, and thought about the many things that could be rescued from the ashes.

[hellapainyo]

I WANNA HEAR YOUR HEADCANNON FOR A LIL DATE(NOT FIRST, MAYBE 4TH OR 5TH)WITH ONE OF THE MAKNAES OF NCT/WAYV ORRRRRRRRRRRR LIKE A LIL BLURB FOR ALL OF THEM IDK DO IT IF YOU WANT I JUST LOVED YOUR LIL HENHEN THING AND I WANNA HEAR M O R E

First, AHHHH thank you! I’mso excited to try out writing a bit just for fun and it warms my heart that youwanna see more!

I’m going to include ’98and ’99 line because I’m not the most familiar with the Dreamies and Wayv yet.That being said, if you want me to do something with any of those members specifically,let me know and I will!

And please, feel free to send in more requests!

Jungwoo:

I see Jungwoo as a soft guy who likes to plan things

Idk he pegs me as whimsically pragmatic, which Iadmire

I feel like the 5th date would feelimportant to him, it’s a nice round number so he wants to ask his date to behis partner officially

He plans it all out that they’ll have a smallpicnic

Followed by a bike ride in the park

Then it finishes at a fountain that’s deepwithin the park where he will ask them

It’s a sunny day and warm when he meets his dateat the café, so he’s all chuffed and building his ego so he can feel confident

When his date shows up, he’s got this fake machoman thing going which just makes them giggle because “manly Jungwoo” is hysterical

They’re about to depart for the picnic when itstarts raining

Cue moody, bratty Jungwoo

His date is trying to be easy going and is findinga cultural center you can bring outside snacks to, but in the process, Jungwoois too upset to notice the bracelet he bought to confess with just falls out ofhis pocket

They get to the museum and spend a bit looking atall the pieces and his date is pointing out the parts they really like and Jungwoois loosening up

They find the luncheon area and open up thepicnic and have a grand time talking and Jungwoo is deciding that he can saveit, he can make it cute

He looks at the map of the museum and sees thatthe only exhibit they haven’t looked at is a hologram field of flowers

After their lunch he drags his date to the hologramand while they are admiring the beauty, Jungwoo realizes he lost the bracelet

He’s aggressively patting his pockets when hisdate turns around, smiles, and hands him the box the bracelet was in

“Is this what you were looking for?”

“I… Yes. Um…” he opens the box, “Will you by my girl/boyfriend?”

“I’d thought you’d never ask”

Lucas:

He’s an Aquarius so I falter between him being asuper energetic partner and also a really lazy one because he works so hard

So let’s go with a lazy date because I’m softfor cuddly Lucas

He’s definitely the guy who is both super chillabout the status of relationships, but also so incredibly devoted and whippedfor whomever he’s seeing

The “define the relationship” phase doesn’texist for him…

“We’re going on dates, so we’re dating,” is hisperspective

I imagine him being adorable and naïve andcuddly after a long day at practice

He showers and shoots up his partner with a textasking if he can hang

His partner is like, “Uhh my roommates arethrowing a party tonight. Do you wanna come to that or do something more lowkey?”

Since, he’s exhausted, he decides the latter andhe shows up at their apartment in sweats and wet hair

He is the charismatic boy he is and greets everyoneand does the stereotypical, “I’m just gonna steal them for the night.” *wink*thing

They wander the streets, find delicious streetfood, and stretch out their legs together all while joking around

Lucas finds a claw machine and spends $10 justtrying to get a tiny snorlax stuffy for his partner

They result to just buying him shaved ice to gethim to shut up about it

At some point, they both get super tired and,upon realizing they can’t just go back to the dorm or the apartment, they finda movie room

Which btw is like this thing where you rent aroom and essentially you can Netflix and Chill with privacy

The front desk guy is making suggestive faces atthem as they rent one without realizing what actually happens between tired Lucasand tired partner

They make it up to the room, pop the popcorn inthe microwave and snuggle in to watch Finding Nemo

They get a noise complaint for them arguing overwho between them would most effectively be able to communicate with whales

At which point they settle down for snuggles andthey fall asleep tracing stars on each other’s arms

Mark:

My sweet, kind, nervous boy

He’s another one who pegs me as someone nervousaround people he likes

But also, he calls his date “Dude” and “Bro” regardlessof their gender and that, my dudes, is everything I look for in a man

He’s ambitious and also really enjoys stereotypicalcute coupley things so he suggests taking a cooking class with his date

The dish of the day is omurice (which is supertasty okay)

Cute Mark fumbling with the cooking aprons is socute because he doesn’t know if his date wants him to put it on them or not sohe stands there for like 10 seconds with fiddly hands until his date puts one overhis neck and he realizes “Oh okay we’re being COUPLEY coupley”

They attentively watch the instructions andpractice the techniques and everything seems fine

Until it comes the time when they are set looseto make their own dish

Mark accidentally finds himself behind his datebecause Mark is clueless and didn’t really remember how they were instructed tocut the carrots for the rice

He was too busy gawking at how lovely his datelooked with an apron on

Fite me, Mark likes domestic aesthetics

And he realizes his uselessness lol so he wantsto express his appreciation and ends up backhugging his date which is beyondcute but they both get embarrassed and Mark is about to pull away until hisdate just pulls Mark’s arms around their waist a bit tighter

“Your support makes me feel capable” orsomething cute

Anyway, between their constant hugging, poorcooking skills, and unsteady hands, their omurice looks terrible, but tastes great

Inspiration: Yoosung’s ugly omuricefrom Mystic Messenger:

Xiaojun:

A dude I don’t know much about, lol

Like Mark I think he would love to learn somethingnew with his date

But I also think he has a lot of tact too

I can imagine him planning a date and giving hispartner no other context than, “Meet me at the café at 2” and so his date justshows up to this cute rustic café

They sit and have some tea and Xiaojun, being asly bean, keeps complimenting the stoneware the teapot, mugs, and plates aremade from

To the point where it’s annoying lol

And finally his partner is like “Yeah I get it,you like them.”

And he finally reveals that the main date iswheel thrown pottery

 Both he and his partner have little to no experiencewith clay apart from a couple random pinch pots made in elementary school

So they get to the studio and they see all thesetechniques and equipment and they are terrified

Xiaojun is the type to smile through the pain sohe’s just grinning and ignoring how intimidated he is

But he’s cute and intuitive enough to tie backhis partner’s hair for them

They’re both terrible at it, but they pose it uplong enough to get the cute ‘Ghost’ scene to post on SNS (poor instructor being forced into taking cringey pics of them)

In the end they make a glob of clay

Xiaojun passes it off as abstract art

The other members make fun of it when he has it onhis bedside table

It somehow is a good phone stand though

Hendery:

This egg, I swear

He’s such a crackhead

The other members have cute little dates withfun chances for skinship, right?

Hendery wants to play paintball and none of hisfriends want to because he cheats at games, so he asks his naïve partner to gowith him

Regrets

His partner is acting all shy about it like they’venever played before, which just feeds into Hendery’s “I’m gonna win so yougotta buy me lunch” mocking

They get all suited up

And the game begins

Hendery is trying his best to hide just so hecan have a better vantage

But this crackhead is a giggly mess because he’sthinking about his date’s face when they lose

Which just makes him easier to find

Plus he’s distracted so he doesn’t notice whenhis partner gets the higher ground with a great vantage point to literally seehim crouching and giggling

*pow* *pow* *pow*

Three chest shots in a row and Hendery is donefor and lost

Forever disappointed Hendery because the gamelasted a total of 7 minutes and he didn’t even get to attempt any shots

He’s just a pouty boy

So much so that he has to get consolation icecream before he can go buy their lunch

But later, he brags to all the members about howgood of a shot his partner is

“I feel so safe knowing they can protect me.”-Hendery

“We don’t have guns here…” -Kun

“BUT if we did! I would be so safe.” -Hendery

I hope you like it!!

[overwatch-xoxo]

Idk if you're only an X reader blog but I was wondering if you could do a genie AU with Orisa and Genji being that there both genies and becuz neither of them has seen another magic genie when they hump into each other they sort of get all giddy and teary eyed. They cultures are deiffenrnt but there both genies so the ly both have similar experiences with masters and magic XD

This idea is so sweet!  I hope you enjoy the fic, my friend (:

unbreakable chains

genji & orisa platonic relationship | genie au | efi cameo | 1500 words

Genji could feel when he was being passed from one set of hands to another. It was a rough scraping of the sides, the feel of calloused fingers cradling the outside of his vessel, that made his figurative gums ache and his fingers tingle. He hated the shackles that bound him, the form which he had been forced to take. It had all been part of the pact he’d made all those years ago, when he’d been on the brink of death, to save his life. He’d agreed to this, to serve, yet he hated it.

In all these years, these decades, he had never met someone who genuinely wanted to be his friend, who wanted to speak to him as an equal.

He had the power of the world at his fingertips - the power to grant any wish, save a few minor rules. Some masters had been kindly but needy, their three wishes typically simple and basic and fast - food in their bellies, roofs over their heads. These were the ones who rubbed every lamp-shaped object they saw simply because they were desperate for anything, even magic, to help them. Some were greedy, who had usually bought the vessel from its previous owner, and they bided their time with him, only calling upon him when they needed some political sway or another favor that could wreck worlds if he wasn’t careful.

During the journey between hands, he was often in a half-awake form of consciousness. There was no living space inside the vessel, no miniature studio apartment - just him, sleepy and uncaring, drifting along and feeling the stroke of fingers that were usually gentle and sparse.

His home often smelled of tea - that much he was aware of. His vessel was a steel-cast teapot adorned with dragons, and he felt full and at peace when someone brewed a hot pot of tea within it, gingerly touching only the handle and the spout, sometimes with a cloth over their fingers to avoid burns. It might have been his favorite part of the imprisonment.

And then he was awoken, with a rumbling and the jolt of adrenaline that typically came with being pulled from his slumber. He had used to maintain a spiel, a string over words that rolled out of his mouth every time he was awoken. But by now, he assumed the newest master knew the drill, at least from general mythological knowledge, because the rubbing of the lamp with one’s bare hands was a very deliberate act. He’d only explain, these days, if they were completely clueless.

This one was not.

A small, dark-skinned girl was jumping around in near-hysterical joy at his arrival, chanting something along the lines of, “I found a genie! I found a genie!” Genji smirked in approval - he’d never had this enthusiastic of a response before, but he could certainly get used to it.

His legs materialized, and he landed on the floor of what appeared to be a rather well-used workshop, littered in various metal scraps and greasy cloths, technological parts that he could probably never understand. It smelled of soldering and gasoline, and a little bit of curry. Was this all hers? “What is your name, little one?” he asked.

“I’m Efi,” she said, instantly focused, although the smile did not drop off her face. “And I have a task for you.”

“Ah, yes, the wishes,” Genji said, inspecting his nails. How could he ever forget? How could anyone?

“No, not the wishes.” She gestured at a little hunk of brassy metal beside his teapot. “I just need you to talk to her. She’s a genie, too, but her lamp broke so I made her a new one, and I think she could use someone like her to help her through it.”

Genji wasn’t sure which was most implausible - that this thing could be a genie’s lamp, or that this girl had another actual genie in the same room as him. He supposed it wasn’t impossible for him to have been in such close proximity to one in the past - he’d been stored in royal vaults, for example, to be bargained for when the time was right or to be passed down for generations. And he might not have been the only one in that vault. But he had never come face-to-face with another, and the thought of it it made him frown with nervousness.

“I-I’m duty bound to grant you wishes,” he stammered, coming up blank with something better to say.

Efi rolled her eyes. “Well, then, I wish you would talk to this other genie for me.”

He felt the familiar pull of magic, binding him to the act he was asked to do. This wish… it would be so easy to grant. But he tried, as he always did, to strain against the magic that bound him, just to see if he could.

The girl was already hovering over the other “lamp,” whispering to it inaudibly, as if it could hear her. Then, she briskly rubbed it three times with her hand, and stepped away as a golden mist poured from the makeshift spout. “I’ll leave you to it,” said Efi, winking at Genji, before leaving the room.

The mist consolidated in the center of the room, making a figure that was larger than Genji had expected, and he gasped as her face materialized, then the rest of her. A beast of a creature - multi-legged like a centaur, colorful and patterned, glittering and metallic, with a round masked face framed by bestial horns, glowing eyes. He fell to his knees, tears springing to his eyes. Was this a god, come to test him?

She quietly looked around for a moment, her energy buzzing so heavily she made a whirring sound. “Greetings,” she said to him, her voice gently surprised. “Where is Efi?”

Genji rubbed his eyes hard before the magic forced him to stand. It willed his mouth to move. “She thought it would be best if we spoke alone,” he said, staring at the floor. “She said you’d want to talk with another genie.”

Appraisingly, the creature looked over him. “You are a genie?” Her voice was reverent, awed. “You are a genie, just like me?” Her eyes narrowed in surprise and pleasure, and she approached him with the strange movement of all her legs, grasping his face in her hands. Then, if her eyes could express a wide grin, they did so. “I am so excited to meet you! I have never met someone like me. Are you very old? Have you served for kings and queens? You must tell me everything!”

Genji was quiet for a moment, then he heaved a heavy laugh of relief, wiping the tears away that pooled at his eyes. “Only if you tell me everything, as well.”

The two spoke for what must have been hours, and at some point Genji felt the magic that was forcing him to talk ebb away, and he was speaking of his own accord, granting a wish with no compulsion for the first time he could remember. He and the other genie - her name was Orisa - had traveled across vastly different regions, once or twice they had almost nearly crossed paths. They exchanged stories of a man they had both served, who seemed to be the same person, as he made three wishes with Orisa, and then immediately undid the same three wishes with Genji.

They spoke of what it was like to be between masters. Orisa’s old vessel had been an intricately sculpted clay oil lamp, and to her, the between had smelled like frankincense in comparison to Genji’s oolong. When her vessel had broken, she had not been freed, but instead floated along for who knows how long as a spirit without direction or form, sometimes causing chaos unintentionally, until she was found by Efi who found a way, through technology, to communicate with her and find what she needed. Since, Efi had not used a single wish on her, but would do anything to ensure that Orisa was of a stable mental condition, including bringing a third party in to evaluate her. This is where Genji had come in.

While Genji could remember being human, Orisa had never remembered being anything other than what she was. He thought it might explain her strange, near-divine form, but she merely laughed off the sentiment, saying that there was nothing unusual about her.

After a great deal of time, Efi returned, eager to see how her wards were getting along. Famously, it seemed. So she sat with them and went over what they had learned about each other, the strange coincidences, the stranger similarities in their personalities despite their differences. The human girl was beyond pleased. She had something important to show them. So she pulled out bundles of blueprints, of machines that were protectors and attackers, machines that could be companions and caretakers.

“I want to make heroes,” she explained. “We need to make the world a better place, for everyone, and we can start with these. But I need your magic to do it. Will you help me?”

And for the first time, Genji saw the beauty in his imprisonment. For the first time, he would do something productive with it - completely of his own will.

[fanficwriter013]

The Tower - Chapter 15

The Tower: An Avengers Fanfic

Chapter 15

Chapters: one / two / three / four / five / six / seven / eight / nine / ten / eleven / twelve / thirteen / fourteen / fifteen / sixteen / seventeen / eighteen / nineteen / twenty / twenty-one / twenty-two / twenty-three / twenty-four / twenty-five / twenty-six / twenty-seven / twenty-eight

Word Count: 2880

Warnings:  I ain’t gonna lie to y’all. This one is a doozy. Angsty, depressing talk, talk about abuse and dissociating. Smut (Vaginal sex, slight voyeurism)

Synopsis:   Elly has breakfast with Bucky, and then lunch with Bruce.

Author’s Note: Written with the fabulously brilliant @emilyevanston

I woke the next day completely wrapped in Bucky’s arms and Steve nowhere to be found.  Bucky was not impressed.

“Damn it!  He knows I hate waking up with someone else and he’s gone.  What if I hurt you?”  He muttered against my skin.

“Yeah, but you didn’t.  Let’s focus on that.”  I said snuggling into him more.

It had turned out that Steve had gone for his morning run with Sam so Bucky and I made pancakes together.

“How come you and Steve are so paired off compared to everyone else?  I thought playing favorites would be a bad idea.”  I asked as we sat down opposite each other on the couch, plates on our laps and our legs entwined.

“If any of the others say they don’t have favorites they're lying to you.  But I think it’s because of a few things.”  Bucky said.  “Partly it’s just because we have known each other forever.  We’re more comfortable together than alone.  Partly it’s the nightmares thing.  I can’t sleep alone but when I’m with someone else I just worry about hurting them.  Partly it’s because when I came here no one trusted me at all except Steve.  Even though back then he was with Sam and so fuckin’ torn about what to do and I didn’t want to step in between them, he still let me live in his apartment because I had no one else.  And… there’s…”. He grimaced and ran a hand through his hair.

I looked at him and quirked an eyebrow.  “What’s wrong?”

“Look, we do love everyone else.  I’d say we’re in love with them all even if most of them would freeze up if we said it.  Fuck, I even love Tony in his own way even if we’re never going to be the two closest members of…”  He paused looking for a word.

“Of the sexvengers?”  I offered up.

He laughed and shook his head.  “Yeah, that.”  He said.  “I know Stevie would have a lot of trouble having to give any of them up if they decided they couldn’t be part of the group anymore.  But we might be immortal.  Neither one of us has aged since the forties.  And maybe that’s the ice but I wasn’t even on ice for the whole time and look at me?”  He said.  “We’re both really scared about what that means.  It makes me sick thinking we’ll probably have to bury the others one day.  So… we make time for each other so that this is always strong because one day, it’s probably going to be all we have.”

“Shit, I’m sorry, Bucky,”  I said thinking about all the real world implications that would have.  “You don’t worry about bringing more people in like me?  Wouldn’t it hurt to just keep falling in love over and over just to outlive them all?”

“Yeah, it terrifies me,”  Bucky answered.  “And that’s something else, we use the alone time to be upset about it.  But we decided if we isolate ourselves we’d become jaded and start seeing ourselves as not human.  And we don’t want that.  So we keep our hearts open.  Pain is part of life I’m afraid.”

“What a dark conversation to start the day with.”  I mused taking a large mouthful of pancake.

“Hey, you fuckin’ started it, darlin’.”  Bucky teases poking me with his foot.

After breakfast, I headed to the lab to do some work.  Bruce was already there and I kissed his cheek as I passed him and went to start my own work.  He blushed pink and looked up at me before going back to his work.

I disappeared into work.  I have a tendency to just block out everything else.  Just after midday, my stomach pulled me out of it.  I sat up from where I was hunched over the electron microscope and stretched.  Bruce turned and smiled at me.

“I was wondering when you’d poke your head back up.”  He said.

“I think I just narrowed down the gene for super strength,”  I said.  “I mean, sample size isn’t big but there’s something there.”

He came over and leaned over me to look over my work.  “That looks promising.  You should certainly keep exploring that.”

I touched the back of his hand and ran my finger over it.  He looked over at me, his cheeks flushing and my stomach rumbled loudly.

He started to laugh.  “Did you eat a dinosaur earlier?”

“I swallowed him whole and now he’s hungry.”  I laughed.

“Shall we get some lunch?”  Bruce asked.

I nodded and we got up.  “Do you want to come down to my apartment?”  He asked.

Normally the common floor was the default place to go for lunch.  They ordered food in and people came and went at their own leisure.  Asking me to his apartment meant something.  He wanted to spend more time alone with me.  “Like a date?”

He ran his hand through his hair.  He was now bright red and he couldn’t maintain eye contact.  “Yes.  Uh… yes. If.  If you want to?”

“I’d love to,”  I said, linking my fingers with his.

We went down to his floor.  On the way, he asked for FRIDAY to order in some Indian food.  He lead me into his apartment and headed straight for the kitchen.  His apartment was decorated very simply, but with a lot of plant life.  All the furniture was made of wood or cloth and there was even a wicker pod hanging from a wood frame that sat near the window that showed views out over Central Park.  He had an incense cone sitting on a side table and it made the room smell like sandalwood.

“Can I get you tea?”  Bruce asked.

“Yes please.”  I agreed and Bruce pulled down a clay teapot and added leaves to it and set a kettle on the stove to boil.

“I really like your apartment,”  I said as I looked around.

“Thank you.  I spent a lot of time working out what worked best for me to keep calm and relaxed.”  He said.  “Tony helped design it based on what I told him. It’s been working.  I used to be afraid to sleep.  Now, not as much.”

The mention of Tony’s name made me flinch a little and I wondered when I’d get used to hearing it.  And when he’d stop avoiding me altogether.  The not even wanting to look at me thing was painful.  “It must have been weird to have to learn to live with the other guy,”  I said tapping my forehead.

The kettle started to whistle and he took it off the heat and poured the boiling water into the pot.  He let out a strained half laugh.  “See… that’s the thing.  He’s always been there.  It’s just the whole turning green thing I had to get used to.”

“What do you mean?”  I asked.

He put the teapot on a tray with two small clay cups and brought them over to the coffee table.  He sat down and I went and sat beside him as he poured the tea.

“I know about your dad.  What he did.  You should probably know… you’re not alone here in that.”  He said, not looking at me.  “Most of us have that.  I think Bucky, Sam, and Wanda might be the only ones who didn’t to some extent.”

I put my hand on his knee and he looked up at me.  “My father was… he was a jealous and violent man.  He beat me and my mother regularly.  Badly.  Eventually, he killed her and I was taken and given to my aunt to raise.  But it was too late.  By then I’d already started disassociating.”  He dropped his eyes again and took a sip of tea.  “The Hulk terrifies me.  I think he might hate me sometimes.  Hate how weak I am.  But he is my protector.  He always has been.  After a while every beating my father gave me, he took.  Even now, yes he comes out when I’m angry, but he also comes out when I’m in danger.  The experiment gave him a physical form, but he’s been there as long as I can remember.”

I cupped Bruce’s jaw and ran my thumb over it.  “I’m so sorry, B.  I can’t even imagine growing up with someone worse than my dad.”

Bruce went to say something but there was a knock at the door.  He got up and answered it, grabbing the bags from the delivery guy and bringing them over to the table.  He then grabbed some plates and silverware and brought them over.

“Are you vegetarian?”  I asked as I filled my plate with a mixture of daal, palak paneer, kofta, rice, and naan.

“Yes.  No.  Not exactly.  He… he’s so violent.  I just try and even the scales where I can.  But I’m not exactly strict about it.  If he’s in charge not at all.”  He answered as he filled his own plate.

“You’re really worried about him coming out?  If we…?”  I nodded in the direction of his bedroom.

“It’s happened before.   With Nat.  He took out a wing of the building.”  Bruce answered.

“Holy shit that must have been scary,”  I said.  “You’d think the endorphin rush would calm him.”

Bruce shook his head.  “It’s extremes and besides, that doesn’t happen until the end.”

I put my plate down and placed both my hands on his leg.  “Bruce.   We can be whatever you want us to be.  Go at whatever speed you want us to go.  If it worries you to make us physical we don’t have to. If you want to but you need time, that’s fine too.”

“I do… it’s not… I don’t...”  He stopped, taking a deep breath.  “It’s not that I don’t ever want to have sex.  I do.  And I do with you.  But if something happened… how could I live with that?”

I smiled and brushed a lock of his hair from his head.  “Seriously.  I’m not about talking people into sex.  You can say no for whatever reason.  But know this, I’m not scared of you, Bruce Banner.”

He turned away from me.  “That’s just because you haven’t met the other guy.”

“Hey, if he protected you from your dad, he can’t be all bad,”  I said.

Bruce put his plate down and his hand went to my cheek.  “Where did Natasha even find you?”  He said and leaned into me.

I bridged the gap and this time when he kissed me it was it was hungrier and more desperate than it had been before.  His hands slid up my thigh and pulled me a little closer to him.  He backed off again, his hands just gently exploring my skin and the kiss becoming more of a slow caress of our lips together.  I matched him, not wanting to force anything.  Letting him set the pace.  I let my own hands run up and down his back slowly.  Bruce’s hands remained tentative.  He teased at the hem of my t-shirt and brushed under my breasts.

I bunched up my t-shirt, letting his fingers touch my bare skin.  He made a guttural moan and broke the kiss looking at me.  His eyes looked muddy brown and lust blown.  “Can we… can we uh… not here.”

“You sure?  There’s no need to rush.”  I said, slightly breathless.

He nodded and I got to my feet.  We started to kiss again and he guided me to his bedroom.  I unbuttoned his shirt as we moved and he shrugged it off as we went through the door.  I pulled my own shirt off, breaking our kiss.  His eyes roamed my body and he ran his hands over me like he was afraid I was going to disappear.  I unfastened his pants and he stepped out of them before doing the same for me.

“You trust me?”  He whispered.

I leaned into him and rested my forehead against his.  “Completely.”

He tilted his head and captured my lips and lifted me, wrapping my legs around his waist.  I let out a surprised squeak and clung to him as he carried me to the bed.  I slid down to the mattress when we got there and moved back, getting him to climb after me, as we continued to hungrily kiss each other.  I unhooked my bra and threw it off.  He broke the kiss and for a moment he just hovered over me, hands on either side of my shoulders and looked down at my breasts breathing heavily.  His chest rising and falling and his hands digging into the sheets.  He leaned in and started kissing and sucking at my breast, my nipple hardening in his mouth before he moved to the other breast.

I arched my back opening up to him more and hooked my leg around his waist.  My hand slipped down to his boxers and I palmed my hand over the length of his rock hard cock.  He let out a low primal moan and buried his face in my neck.  His hand slipped down to my panties teasing over the soaked material.  I reached into his boxers and wrapped my hand around his cock and started to pump.

He jerked back suddenly breathing heavily.  I could see the muscles shifting under his skin.  His eyes flew open.  They were tinged with green and looking around everywhere.  “I need… I need…”  He panted, his voice coming out a low rumble.

I could feel my heart racing but I put both my hands on his jaw, not sure what else I could do in the vulnerable position I was in.  “Bruce, you have this.  Stay with me.”  I then changed who I was talking to.  “There’s no danger here, big guy.  You gotta stay back now.  Please.”

Bruce closed his eyes again and took several deep breaths.  When he opened them again they’d returned to that muddy brown of before.  “I - I’m sorry.  Sorry.”  He stuttered, his eye darting back and forth between mine.

I shook my head and ran my hands through his hair.  “It’s okay.  Really.  What do you want to do?”

“It’s just… sometimes… I have trouble with affection.  And all the brain chemicals...”  He said, his words coming out quickly and unfocused.

I cupped his jaw again.  “Bruce, look at me.”  His eyes shot to mine and I ran my thumbs over his jaw.  “It’s okay.  You got it under control.  We’re both still here.  Do you want to stop?”

“No… no, I want to do this.  With you.”  He said quietly.

“I’m still here, B,”  I said quietly.

He kissed me hard.  His hand went to my hair and held me in place and his fingers went back to my panties.  He pushed them down, and I wriggled out of them before helping him remove his boxers.

I took his cock in my hand and ran the head up and down my folds.  I pulled back from the kiss just a little.  “You’re in control.  At the speed you want, Bruce.”  I whispered.  He nodded briefly before resuming the kiss his tongue flicking over mine.

He teased me with his cock, slicking it and pressing the head against my clit making me moan.  He rolled his hips forward just a little, the head of his cock stretching my entrance.  I let out a soft moan against his lips and ran my hands down his back.  He sunk his cock into me painstakingly slow and moaned when he was into the hilt.

He started to thrust.   Slowly at first, just rolling his hips into mine.  I kept touching all of him I could reach.  I brought my knees up and rested my feet on his ass.  An orgasm slowly built in me.  He grabbed my hip with his free hand and picked up the pace and force of his thrusts.  I brought my finger to my clit and started to completely come apart under him.  A sheen of sweat clung to my body as I arched up under him.  “Oh fuck, Bruce.”  I mewled breaking the kiss.  I was breathless and so close to my climax.

He groaned deeply and loudly and bit down into my shoulder.  I cried out and came clenching around his cock.  His fingers tightened in my hair and on my hip and he released, spilling hot ribbons of come inside me.

I rolled my hips riding out the orgasm holding onto him and stroking his hair.  He slipped from inside me and rolled off onto his side opening his eyes.  They were tinged with green again.  I reached up and ran a finger over his brow and down his cheek.  “Bruce?”  I said, quietly.

“It’s okay.  Oh god, this is going to sound awful.”  He said, shaking his head.  “It’s… he’s just watching.  I think he likes you.”

I kissed his brow.  “That’s okay if he stays back.  He’s part of you, Bruce.  Besides, I’m kinda getting used to doing these kinds of things with an audience now.”  I joked.

He draped an arm over me.  “So I’ve heard.  Maybe next time I’ll get to see that show.”

I chuckled.  “I hope so.”

[llamastories96-blog]

Ceramic Love

Characters: Reader x Leo

Description: You were a master in pottery, and when you were in the classroom with a struggling student, you couldn’t stop yourself from wanting to help him. Especially when he was so kind and quiet, you couldn’t help but fall for his quiet charm.

Word Count: 2,209

_____________________________________________________________

You gather your pencil case of tools and place it in your bag along with a bottle of water. You walked around your living room to make sure that you got everything you needed. You grabbed your keys from your homemade ceramic bowl, and locked your front door.

The quiet walk from your shared house to the art building on your campus was a very enjoyable one. It was a nice scenic walk along the Han River before reaching campus. The art building is on the outskirts on campus and faces your house. The walk is only not enjoyable when it’s snowed, but you still like the view so you endure the cold.

You cross the street and head into the art building, opting to take the stairs up the few floors. You don’t have much free time to go to the gym, so you walk and take the stairs whenever you have the opportunity.

Reaching the floor with the ceramics lab and head in, going towards your usual station on the other side of the room. The room was filled with tools and utensils for all purposes. There were four tables along one side of the room, and multiple pottery wheels on the other side of the room. You sit in the sweet spot in the middle, you have a seat at a table far from the door, but next to a pottery wheel that you use pretty much every other day. Along the wall where the entrance is is also where the door to the kilns. Along with four kilns, there’s also stains, different powders to mix for different glazes, and the bins of clay.

Setting your stuff down at your spot, you walk into the kiln room to dig out some clay to begin your newest task. You grabbed quite a bit of clay, because you’re trying to make a teapot. You are going to begin the pot on the wheel, but are going to put together the finishing touches by using hand techniques. You pop on your headphones, and get working on your teapot.

You’ve been on the wheel for about an hour, just about to finish, when you notice someone enter the room. You’re a little surprised, since it’s so late at night, and do a double take when you see a handsome guy walk in and take a seat at the next table over. He notices you looking at him, and smiles shyly back at you. You nod, continuing your pot.

After ten minutes the body of your teapot is finished. You take it off the wheel onto a bat and bring it over to your tools at your seat. You glance up to see the mysterious man’s progress, and so far he just has a lump of clay sitting in front of him. He has his face in his hands staring at it, almost willing it to form itself. You smile to yourself as you begin the production of the teapot handle.

The handle takes about ten minutes to construct it just how you want it, and to attach it perfectly to your pot using your own slip. You had already cut the top of the teapot for the lid, and your next task was making the lip under the lid so it locked in place. You glanced over at the mysterious man one more time, to see him sitting in the same position as before. Your eyebrows gather together and you reach up with the back of your hand to move one side of your headphones off your ear.

“I haven’t mastered mind controlling the clay either, so if you ever find the key to it, please let me know,” you chuckle, “I would love to bypass all the mess it makes.”

He seems to jump at the sound of your voice and turns a little to look at you, a half-smile growing on his face. He chuckles before responding, “I would love to learn that too. No, I just have no idea what to make that’ll look good. I want to make something for my parents for Christmas.”

You furrow your eyebrows once again, “Christmas? It’s only February.”

He laughs at this. “I know, I figure if I get a heads start on it, I can make sure I perfect it by the time Christmas rolls around again.”

You smile, and slowly make your way over to where he’s stationed himself.

“Well, maybe I can help, I’ve been working in this lab for a few years now. What are you thinking of, bowls? A set of cups?”

He answers with a blank expression on his face as he looks at you.

“I have no idea how to make any of those things.” He laughs shyly and rubs the back of his neck, “I’ve taken Ceramics for about a year now and I don’t think I’ll ever get to be at your level.” He gestured to your unfinished teapot.

“Well, I also want to be an arts teacher, so I pretty much have to hone my craft. And I also spend all my free time in here, so, don’t feel too bad,” you smile at him as you take a step back. “I have to finish my pot before it gets leather hard, but if you need advice or anything just ask me.”

He nods, his shy smile never leaving his face as you turn around and make your way back to your spot. You move your headphones back in place and continue working on your piece. You select the place where you’re going to place a spout, and poke a few holes in the wall of the teapot to act as a strainer. You assemble the spout and attach it to your teapot and hold it for a few moments before it will hold on its own.

You walk along the wall until you see the bag of handles your teacher allows you to use, and search for the perfect handle to match your teapot. After a few minutes of searching through hundreds of handles, you finally find the right one. You bring it back to your station, looking up to see the guy watching you.

Smiling, you wave the handle at him and he turns back to his lump of clay as he tries to hide a smile. You construct how you’re going to place the handle, and that being the last thing you had to make, you were done. You leave the pot alone to harden without hitting it, so it was virtually perfect. 

Sighing contentedly, and move to place your teapot to the shelves and step a few feet back to look at it objectively. You nod your head slightly as you turn the bat to see all angles of your teapot. You smile to yourself and turn away to walk back to your seat.

On your way over there you peek at what the mystery man has made so far, and you see a slab pot bowl that he’s constructing. You barely pass him before he spins back to face you. “I actually really do need help. I don’t know what I’m doing. At all.” His face looks desperate, this was probably his grade, not a present.

You smile gently and nod as you take the seat next to him. You nod your head for him to do what he's been doing, "I can correct you as you go, it's more effective." He nodded gently and he turned his attention back to his slab pot.

You helped him roll out better coils, told him to smooth it out a few coils at a time, told him to place his coils carefully so it doesn’t look like a slab pot. 

The two of you sat together for around forty-five minutes, you had lost track of time once the two of you started to talk. His name was Taekwoon, and his advisor said he should take this class because he needed an art credit to graduate. You told him you were also a senior and this is one of the many art classes you’ve taken. You’ve done pretty much all of them. He was impressed at all of the art you’ve managed to create. You showed him pictures off your phone, off of facebook, and some that you had just recently finished.

He was a music major, and he has recorded several songs that he had on his phone. You pleaded with him to play them and he willingly agreed after you offered to take him out for coffee afterwards. He had smiled a little, and quickly found them in his phone.

After he had played the last one, you looked him in the eyes. “The way you sing makes you seem untouchable, but knowing you in person before hearing your songs is incredible. Your transformation is incredible. You’re going to do amazing things, Taekwoon.” He blushed madly at that and turned his head, avoiding your gaze.

You laid your hand on his shoulder and smiled when you looked at him. “I owe you a coffee. Come on, I’ll help you clean up.” You gently took the ball of unused clay and stood up to put it in the slip can. You turned to see Taekwoon carefully carrying his vase towards the shelves to be fired.

He looked back at you and smiled timidly before gesturing to the door with his head. You quickly collected your belongings and walked with him, shoulder-to-shoulder out of the building.

The air around you was light and casual, the two of you talking the entire walk to the coffeeshop. Was you arrived and stepped inside the warm embrace of heat and the smell of coffee, you sighed. A slight smile appearing on your face as you walked towards the counter. Taekwoon followed after you and ordered immediately after you, refusing to let you pay for your coffee.

“You helped me immensely with my pottery, this is the least I can do.” 

The two of you shared a slight smile, and waited for you coffee.

_________________________

The two of you fell into a routine. Meeting in the ceramics lab, working side-by-side, and going afterwards for coffee. You weren’t sure if it would be considered a date, because the two of you never officially said anything, but you knew that you started to like him.

He came to your art shows, watched you received awards, and you did the same for him. You went with him to some recordings, you went to talent shows he performed in, and you also watched with him as his songs were bought on Apple Music, on Spotify, and on iTunes.

He had even bought one of your pieces. He said he needed it, to remember the person that helped him graduate college. You had laughed, and gave it to him for $5. He accepted and you handed him the teapot you made the night the two of you met.

As the weeks passed, you too grew closer and closer. After two months, you considered each other to be best friends.

So it came as a surprise to you when he asked you out on a real date. You said yes, of course, but you had no idea that he thought of you like that. He took you to an Italian restaurant, he paid for your meal and your wine, and then insisted he had someplace else to take you.

He walked you to an old venue that your art has been showed in, as well as where he’s performed  once or twice as well. However, when you walked it, it looked completely different. Roses covered almost every corner of the gala, rose petals on the floor, hanging from the ceilings in bouquets, and a couple were scattered around in vases set out at different heights.

You gasped as you stepped inside the gala, and turned to ask Taekwoon why he had brought you here. When you turned around, he was holding a bouquet of pink roses, and he learned incredibly nervous. And then he spoke.

“Y/N, We’ve known each other for a few months, and it’s okay if you think I’m rushing anything, but I know exactly what I feel for you. I’m falling in love with you. And it’s not the way that you compliment me on my songs, or my composing abilities. But it’s because of the way you helped me, that fateful day. It’s the way you look at me when I do something correctly after you showed me how to do it, it’s how you teach me with so much care and worry about me passing my damn class. Will you be my girlfriend?”

Tears were spilling over as you looked at him, confessing to you. You couldn’t believe that he had felt the same as you did, it nearly knocked you off your feet. You couldn’t nod fast enough at his question, muttering ‘yes’ as you reached out for him.

He opened his arms and enveloped you into his arms, bringing you close to his chest as he held on to you. You couldn’t describe the way he made you feel, but you knew in your heart that you loved him too.

[hollypotter-witchingworld]

Holly Potter and the Witching World CHAPTER 5: A Weasley Visit

"All right… nine, ten… stand still, Lydia! Ten. Did I say ten? I think I said ten."

"You've counted Charlene twice, Dad."

"Have I? Oh, bother…"

Just as Holly was preparing to break into the cupboard under the stairs at Number Four, the Weasleys were standing outside Number Seven, trying to make certain that everyone was present.

The Weasley coven was unusually large, even for a coven. All in all, it counted eighteen members: There was of course coven patriarch Arthur Weasley, and his five wives, Molly, Francine, Alice, Amanda and Flora… and of course, their twelve daughters, from sixteen-year-old Will to four-year-old Lydia.

"…eleven, twelve, and six adults make eighteen!" said Arthur, relieved. "Everyone present and accounted for!"

"Why doesn't this Albus Dumbledore just get a Floo connection?" said Flora. She was the youngest of Arthur's wives and her American accent stood out in the mix of Devon and Estuary accents spoken by the rest of the family, almost as much as her bright green hair stood out in a sea of redheads and blondes. "You can't tell me it wouldn't be more convenient than having everyone arrive on foot. Less chance of wandering children too."

"I said I was sorry," Ronnie muttered.

"It's okay, Ronnie." Ten-year-old Fred patted her on the arm. "We had fun while you were gone."

Fred's twin sister, Georgina (or "George" as she preferred to be called) nodded. "Especially when that Muggle lady told Flora-Mum her hair looked like…"

"Yes, thank you, George!" said Amanda.

"…And then Mandy-Mum went all…"

"I said thank you! Since we're all here, maybe someone can finally ring the doorbell and inform the people we're here?"

"Let me!" said Arthur eagerly. "Muggle doorbells are so fascinating!" He looked about as excited as the youngest girls, as he gathered his robes around himself and walked up to the door. "Let's see if I remember this… you just put your finger on the button like so…" He looked delighted at the sound of a chiming bell.

Seconds later, the door opened, and the doorframe was filled by the exceptionally large form of Hagrid.

"Hagrid!" a couple of the youngest girls cried happily. While children who didn't know Hagrid were sometimes intimidated by how impossibly large he was, it seldom took long before they learned that he was much gentler and kinder than his appearance suggested, and the Weasleys had got to know Hagrid quite well over the last couple of years. Four-year-old Lydia and five-year-old Marlyssa even stormed up to him to hug him; each girl grabbing onto one of his sides even though he was much too wide for either of them to reach around him.

Hagrid's bushy black beard split into a grin. "Hello there!" he boomed, gently ruffling the hair of Lydia and Marlyssa. "There yeh are! Was startin' ter wonder if yeh'd got lost or summat!"

"Yes, hello…." Arthur had the decency to look sheepish. "Sorry we're late, Hagrid. It's a little difficult to keep track of twelve children sometimes."

"And a husband who spends five minutes looking for a parking meter even though his very Muggle-born wife keeps insisting that there won't be one," said Amanda dryly.

"Ah, well, you know, better safe than sorry…"

Hagrid guffawed. "No worries," he said. "Don' jus' stand there, come in! Tea's ready!"

A few of the Weasleys looked at each other. "Tea?" said Alice. "You mean the, the potion, surely?"

"Yeah, that too! C'mon in!" Hagrid stepped aside (Lydia and Marlyssa squealing in delight as he effortlessly lifted them up and carried them along) to let the flock of adults and children past.

They stepped in through the door and into the hallway. Most of them had never been here before, and the children looked around the unfamiliar room, which had colourful patterned rugs on the floor and magnificent-looking landscape paintings on the walls, so realistic that the many potted plants that were placed somewhat willy-nilly along the walls almost seemed like they were part of the landscapes.

Despite his vast bulk, and despite currently carrying two little girls, Hagrid was surprisingly light on his feet. He led the Weasleys up the staircase that led to the first floor, and none of the steps so much as creaked a protest under his weight.

The Weasleys were almost orderly and well-behaved as they followed. Of course Nella tripped on the first step and had to be picked up and put back on her feet, and Persephone was sighing about how you couldn't take children anywhere, which again caused Ronnie to suggest that Persephone go and boil her cabbage head… but all in all there weren't any incidents.

The twins, usually the loudest and most exuberant of the Weasley daughters, were unusually quiet as they walked hand in hand up the stairs.

Fred and George were not identical twins. While they were more alike than different —the same long red hair, the same mischievous brown eyes, and the same freckled noses, and the same colourful dresses — when they were next to each other like this it was easy to see that Fred was slightly taller and skinnier than George. There was another difference too, but that was one the family had spent the last year or so preparing to erase.

"Nervous?" George whispered, clutching her twin's hand.

"Nervous, me?" Fred's laughter wasn't quite sincere. "I've never been nervous in my life! What's that word mean, again?"

George giggled. "That's it, you're getting a dictionary for Christmas."

When they reached the first floor, none of them were particularly surprised to find that it was much larger than the ground floor; really it was much larger than the outside of the house allowed for. The hall they now entered was enormous; there would easily have been room for a hundred people here… or perhaps fifty, if they were all the size of Hagrid.

Here, the décor was wilder and more exciting, to the point of being impossible; here the paintings were grander and livelier; a ship on the sea was moving back and forth, with seagulls flying about, and a stately-looking wizard on the portrait opposite the ship turned to look at the flock of people as they passed, waving and winking to a couple of the girls. There were doors of all shapes and sizes on the walls; some small and wooden, others big and made of iron, and one of them looked like it had just been drawn on the wall with chalk.

And perhaps most fascinating of all: While most of the floor was polished marble, over at the very end of the hall it seemed to fade into dirt and grass, to fit very nicely with the small grove of sturdy oak trees that somehow grew and thrived there and looked perfect for climbing in. Between the trees hung an unusually large hammock, with a patchwork quilt almost the size of a tent draped over it, and on one of the branches, a large scarlet bird was unconcernedly preening itself.

It was the sort of place that just begged to be explored by a group of curious girls, but Hagrid just led them over to the chalk door.

"Everything's ready here in the study," he said. He touched the chalk drawing, which slid aside to reveal a new large room.

This room was large and circular, with a domed class ceiling, its walls filled with shelves containing myriads of leather-bound books and strangely glowing devices. The few patches of wall that were not occupied by shelves, had mysterious-looking star-charts, chalkboards filled with strange equations, and — interestingly — a photograph of the Beatles in their heyday, bearing the signatures of all four members of the band. A work-bench opposite the entrance gave part of the study the feel of a mad scientist's laboratory with its assortment of test tubes, beakers, burettes, Bunsen burners, and flasks with liquid in various colours… but the large table in the centre of the room had a white crotchet tablecloth and a brown clay pot where yellow dandelions were blooming cheerfully, as well as tea cups, classes, a large teapot and several places of cakes and biscuits.

By this table sat Albus Dumbledore, now dressed in a yellow poncho over a smart blue business suit, together with a short plump woman with long, straw-coloured hair, dressed in a scarlet velvet jacket over an embroidered trouser suit that seemed just a little too tight around her belly.

"Weasleys are here, Albus," said Hagrid, setting Lydia and Marlyssa carefully down onto the floor.

"Welcome to all of you!" Albus raised himself and motioned to the woman, who was just swallowing a large gulp of tea. "I do believe this is the first time I have had your entire family under my roof at the same time!"

"Well, it was easy to get all the children," said Arthur, shaking Albus's hand. "Summer holidays are here and they're all home from school. Harder to get all the adults, really… work schedules and all that."

"I'm very happy that you managed, at any rate," said Albus. "A number of you will no doubt remember Hortense Slughorn — but for those of you who do not: This is Hortense Slughorn, the mastermind behind the Mulierarius potion."

"Of course we remember," said Molly. "How do you do, Professor!"

"Oh, no no no!" said the woman with a shake of her head. "It's not 'Professor' these days, my dear Molly! I haven't been 'Professor' since I made the best decision of my life and opted for early retirement!"

"Sorry. How do you do, Hortense."

"That's much better," said Hortense Slughorn. "Pleasure to see you again, of course! And Arthur! And, let me see… I remember Amanda, Francine and Alice from the old classes, but I don't seem to remember this pretty young thing. Interesting hair colour… you don't see many green-haired witches these days."

"I'm Flora," said Flora, obviously pleased at being called pretty. "And it's not my real hair."

"Well, you never know," said Hortense. "Dyed? Charmed?"

"It's a wig." Flora smiled sweetly. "I'm bald as a cue ball."

"Bald as a — my goodness!"

"And no wonder you don't remember me, I didn't go to Hogwarts."

"Good heavens, why ever not?" Hortense tried to collect herself. "Oh, wait, no, of course… your accent. Ilvermorny girl, are you?"

"Kansas girl, really… but yes, I did go to Ilvermorny."

"Fancy that! And now you're here in jolly old England, and married to the Weasleys! Well, that's a story I'd love to hear sometimes…" Hortense looked at the gathered children. "But perhaps not just now."

"Indeed not," said Albus Dumbledore. "Since you have met four-fifth of the adults here, Hortense, let me just introduce the young ones — this is Wilhelmina, Charlene, Anna, Persephone, Winifred —"

"It's Frederica!"

"Ah, my apologies. Frederica. And Georgina, Elaine, Veronica, Nella, Ginevra, Marlyssa and Lydia," Albus finished. "Please, everyone, sit! I have tea for those who want, and lemonade for those who want that."

Under normal circumstances the Weasley children probably would have dearly wanted to explore all the interesting things in the study, but the prospect of lemonade and chocolate biscuits at least temporarily convinced them to take their seats at the table and behave. As they sat down, the teapot stood up on four legs and walked over to each of the Weasleys in turn, pouring hot tea into mugs and cold lemonade into glasses.

There was room for them all around the table, even if Hagrid took up a fairly substantial portion of it.

The adults thanked the teapot, and Albus, politely, but Amanda looked a little sceptical. "We didn't really come here to have tea," she began.

"Oh, pish-tosh," said Hortense, accepting the refill. "I rather insisted on the tea. All for the sake of the patient, of course. When you're about to have the Mulierarius, it's always better to have a nice cup of tea inside you first."

"A truth that applies to more situations than just taking the Mulierarius potion," said Albus. "Chocolate biscuit, Amanda? Or perhaps you would prefer a ginger snap?"

For a few minutes, talk ceased as everyone got a biscuit.

"So," said Hortense after she had eaten half her ginger snap. "Take this as a compliment, or an insult, however you choose… but which one of you children will be taking the Mulierarius?"

Everyone looked at Fred, who seemed rather pleased as she raised her hand. "Me."

Hortense nodded as she looked Fred up and down. "Well, now," she said. "You do rather look like a girl already, don't you?"

Several of her sisters winced as Fred frowned. "I am a girl," she said, in a tone that didn't accept any counterarguments.

"Of course, of course," Hortense hurried to say. "My apologies, young lady! I just have to make certain, you know, just have to ask… You aren't currently under the effect of any other potion or charm, are you?"

Mollified, Fred shook her head. "Molly-Mum said you'd told her I shouldn't be under any other type of magic when I came here."

"Quite right!" Hortense nodded. "Mixing magics sometimes leads to unwanted results. But you have been under the effects of temporary potions and charms, am I right?"

"Well, yeah," said Fred. "But not since yesterday!"

"That should suffice," Hortense agreed. "And you are sure that this is what you want? The Mulierarius treatment isn't like those temporary potions or charms. Once you've started the treatment, you can't change your mind."

Fred looked straight at her. "I've tried to be a boy. I hated every minute of it, but I really did try. And I'm absolutely sure I never want to do it again! I don't care if boys are supposed to be so very special and get all sorts of special treatment. I am a girl."

Arthur cleared his throat. "We've had long discussions about this," he said. "The entire coven supports Fred's decision. We know that it won't make us popular among certain families, but…" He looked around at his five wives, who all nodded. "Our daughter's happiness is more important."

"And she's a much better twin sister than she was a twin brother," George shot in. "She's a lot more fun now!"

A few of the other sisters nodded enthusiastically. Molly, who was sitting next to Fred, ruffled her hair lovingly. "A much bigger handful too," she said. "But it's a small price to pay, really. We're far better off with a happy daughter than with a miserable son, even if she misbehaves a little more."

"You mean I haven't been the perfect little angel, Molly-Mum?" Fred tried to look innocent and failed spectacularly.

"No, you've been rotten to the core, just like me!" said George cheerfully.

Fred giggled. "That's tough, but fair."

"Of course, I'm always right!" said George. "Comes with having a vagina, as you'll soon find out!"

"Who do you think you're talking to, sister?" said Fred, and pretended to be insulted. "Some kind of novice vagina-haver? I've had a vagina dozens of times by now!"

"Temporary vaginas don't count, sister!" George answered.

A couple of the other sisters laughed at the twins' conversation; Ginny laughed loudest.

"All right, girls, that's enough," said Molly firmly. She gave Albus, Hortense and Hagrid an apologetic look. "I'm really sorry about this. They don't mean to be impertinent. They're just excited."

Albus, however, had chuckled along with the children, and Hagrid seemed quite unconcerned.

If Hortense disapproved of the conversation topic, she didn't show it. She just took another large sip of tea and then turned to speak to the adults. "So, what sort of charms and potions have you been using?"

"Started out with simple Sex-Change Charms," said Francine in a business-like manner. "Just to see whether she would take to it. The problem with those charms, of course, is that they are so temporary. Polyjuice Potion gave the most complete results, of course, but…"

"Polyjuice Potion is temporary as well," Hortense agreed. "Yes. Even I haven't ever been able to brew a Polyjuice that lasted for more than twelve, thirteen hours, and most batches don't last for half as long. Much too inconvenient to have to remember to keep drinking it, especially for a young lady who is soon off to Hogwarts for the first time."

"Not to mention expensive," sighed Alice. "Some of those ingredients aren't cheap."

Hortense nodded. "And of course, there's this pesky limitation that it can only give you a copy of someone else's body… though I suppose that might be less of a problem if we're dealing with twins."

"It was fun being identical twins for a while, wasn't it?" said Fred to George. "Switching places, confusing everyone…"

"We should be identical more often," agreed George. She looked up at Hortense. "Can you make Fred look permanently like me?"

"Yeah, can you?" said Fred eagerly.

"NO!" The cry came from Will, Anna and Persephone all at the same time. The three older girls looked at each other, somewhat sheepishly.

Ginny laughed.

"I'm certain you would prefer having your very own feminine body, Frederica," said Albus. "I would imagine having to live as someone else for the rest of your life would be a strain… even if that someone else is your twin sister."

"I think I could manage," said Fred.

"My dear child, I'm afraid the Mulierarius doesn't quite work like that," said Hortense. "Whereas the Polyjuice Potion gives you an exact copy of someone else's body, the Mulierarius Potion simply aims to give you the body you would have had, had you been born female. I can't say with any certainty what that body would look like."

Fred pondered for a moment. "Whatever it looks like, it's got to be better than this one," she finally said.

"Very well," said Hortense. "Once we've finished our tea, we can start your treatment."

Fred punched the air. "Yes!"

The adult Weasleys exchanged glances, smiling but not completely without a gleam of concern in their eyes.

They all knew that while there was no actual law against what they were about to do, the witching world in general would not approve. Of course it wasn't uncommon for witches and wizards to experiment with being the opposite sex for a bit; there were plenty of potions and spells that could temporarily give you the experience of being a different sex, and few people ever batted an eye at this... it was only natural to be curious, after all. Sometimes it could be good to experience life from the other side of the fence, as it were. Not to mention, consenting adults could have quite a lot of fun with a temporary Sex Change Charm. But a permanent transformation of a wizard to a witch? That would not be met with a lot of understanding.

Still, as Arthur had said, that was a small price to pay for a child's happiness. If Fred, or Frederica as she was going to call herself, was happy, then who cared what conservative covens like the Malfoys thought?

Yes, when the twins had been born ten years ago, they had been delighted to have a son. With how rare it was for magical children to be male, it was by no means a given for any coven to be blessed with a boy.

But it turned out that, at least if young Fred Weasley had a say in it, the Weasleys had not been blessed with a boy either. From a very early age, he had preferred wearing the exact same clothes as his twin sister, and refused to have his hair cut shorter than hers. Three times, Molly had tried giving him a short and boyish haircut like the sons in the Diggory and Lovegood covens had, but every time Fred's hair would grow back again in a matter of hours and be just as long as Georgina's again.

At first, the adults hadn't been too concerned. After all, Fred was the only boy in the household, and it was possible he just didn't like to be treated differently. Children often had their own very blatant opinions about fairness, after all, and it wasn't completely unheard of for little boys to grumble and complain because they weren't allowed to do all the things their sisters were allowed to do. So, thinking that perhaps Fred just needed to see that there were other boys around and that he wasn't alone, they'd arranged for him to spend some time with other wizard boys.

Luckily, the two covens who lived closest, the Diggorys and the Lovegoods, both had sons close to Fred's age, and both covens had been more than happy to have the then-five-year-old Fred over to play with said sons.

Things hadn't really worked out the way the Weasleys had hoped.

The visit to the Diggory coven had been the worst. Fred had not hit it off with little Cedric, who was only a few months older than him, and had spent the entire visit playing with Cedric's sisters instead.

The visit to the Lovegoods had gone somewhat better, but had led to a rather startling revelation. The Lovegood coven was in the almost unheard-of situation that they had two sons, Lucian and Damian, and Fred had been a lot friendlier with them than he'd been with Cedric — but it turned out that this had been mainly because the Lovegoods had immediately accepted him as a girl and consistently referred to him as a "her."

By the time Fred was seven, it was clear to everyone that this "wanting to be a girl" thing wasn't just a passing fancy. So after some long and serious talks between the adults, some of which included Fred and some if which did not, it was decided that they would do what they could to help their only son become one of their daughters.

And so, Fred Weasley had been allowed to try out life as a girl for a while, to see if she really liked it. The family had researched sex-change magics, acquired temporary potions, and (since Fred liked her name better than her sex) spent ages arguing over whether "Winifred" or "Frederica" was a better name for a girl Fred.

The idea of talking to Albus Dumbledore had in fact come from his sister, the Headmistress of Hogwarts. Albus might be an unorthodox wizard, and certainly not a name welcome in the "finer" parts of the witching world, but he had helped out a lot of people over the years, and had several friends and connections among witches and Muggles alike.

Luckily, one of these friends was Hortense Slughorn, the old Potions Mistress at Hogwarts and one of the most renowned potioneers of the century… and, as it turned out, the inventor of the exact potion they needed.

"We really don't know how to thank you for this, Hortense," said Arthur as he looked over at said renowned potioneer.

Hortense had chosen a chocolate biscuit, and now she held it in her hand as she looked at Arthur. "The best way to thank me, my dear fellow, is to not tell anyone who you got the Mulierarius potion from. Believe me, I'm happy to do my old friend Albus a favour… but I have no wish to become known as someone who invents and provides potions to permanently turn wizards into witches. My reputation would be quite ruined."

"I, however," said Albus cheerfully, "have never had a reputation to ruin, except among the outcasts of witching society. And I feel certain that they would quite approve, or at least understand. So feel free to put the blame on me."

"Same goes fer me," Hagrid rumbled between two enormous bites of cake, "Well, 'cept nobody'd ever believe I'd invented a potion. I can barely make a decent cuppa tea."

"Don't sell yourself short, Hagrid," said Albus, his eyes twinkling. "Your tea is quite adequate." Then, he turned to look at the collected Weasleys. "Mind you… if you really want to express your gratitude, there might be something…"

"Yes?" said Arthur.

"You all know the story of Holly Potter." It wasn't a question, but a statement. Everyone in the witching world knew the story of Holly Potter.

"I met Holly Potter!" said Ronnie, in the middle of her third biscuit.

"You never did!" said Elaine, who was sitting next to her.

"I did!" Ronnie swallowed. "Just today, while I was… er… while I was looking for you lot! She showed me the way here!"

Ginny looked utterly betrayed. "And you didn't tell us about it straight away?!"

Ronnie blushed a little. "I just…" she murmured, without really having any way of continuing that sentence.

Albus, however, nodded thoughtfully. "You've already met her, then," he said. "Forgive me for asking a personal question, Veronica, but what did you think of her?"

"Well…" Ronnie began, a little awkwardly. "I don't know. I liked her. She was nice. Not, you know, stuck-up or anything."

Albus nodded again, this time with a smile. "I'm glad to hear that. I will have to talk to her about it, of course, but I might ask your family to do her a favour sometime in the future…"