#the greenery in the background looks like giants in the water

[dodo-begone]

It's the Cat's Life for Me

Pairing: Ranboo x Reader, Tommy x Reader, Tubbo x Reader, Purpled x Reader

Request: Can I have your take on the yandere boys (purpled, ranboo, tommy, and tubbo) with a cat hybrid reader? Don't overwork yourself and remember self care! <3

Word count: 1.6k words

A/n: This all platonic, nothing romantic. Also oops i didn't make it yandere- misread it.

Ranboo

He’d definitely be excited to meet you, especially since you’re a hybrid. He’s an enderman hybrid and you are? Oh a cat hybrid! That’s really cool! You two should hang out a few times- it’ll be great.

When he realizes and puts the pieces together, he gets ultra excited. Most cats don’t like water, right? So does that mean you don’t like water or- oh you definitely don’t like water! Or water in that way. Maybe water period- you know what he shouldn’t and won’t try that again.

Now you two playfully threaten each other with water. You, at least, would have a squirt bottle at the reader for whenever the moment is right. Ranboo does the same. Think old wild west style shoot off. That’s what happens.

There has to be loads of cuddle sessions with purring. Specifically to calm one of you down. Or both of you. Doesn’t matter, works all the same.

I don’t care what Mojang said; endermen can and will be fluffy.>:( They have to be. So you just pet each other to help calm down. Either be pet or pet, that is the question. Honestly it’s a “whatever you think works best for you bud” thing.

So I already mentioned how you helped with his anxiety. But I want to go slightly more in depth with it. Anytime he seems like he’s panicking, and you get his permission, you just flop on him and purr up a storm. The combination of weight, sound, heat and feeling is very comforting to him. You’re like a living weighted blanket!

Also you totally nap on him during this time, making it impossible for him to stand up and do anything. Just designated chill time.

When this man enderwalks, it’s a whole cute show. Just an enderman hybrid, slightly hunched and walking around the server, muttering stuff in a different language. Then you got that cat hybrid that’s following him and occasionally rubbing against him. Especially if they think he’s about to get into trouble.

Sometime he’ll just pick you up and carry you around with him. It’s the equivalent of a child picking up the family cat and walking around with it. He isn’t properly holding you so you do that cat slinky thing where they just elongate like a slinky. You aren’t pleased but you can’t get out of his grasp.

Tommy

Okay kinda following the headcannon that Tommy has wings here. But when he finds out you’re a cat hybrid? Oh man this is so cool! What cat things can you do? Do you know? Want to find out? Want to commit science with him?

He will drop you from great heights and free fall with you. It’s a fun activity only the two of you can enjoy together.

Before you hit the ground, he’ll do his best to grab you and land. Other times aren’t that fortunate so you just land on the ground yourself. Mostly on your feet but there were a few times Tommy messed you your angle. He’ll always make sure you’re okay by the end.

Like any bird, he will love to annoy you. There is no safe place. Look away or don’t pay attention when he’s talking? Grab and gentle yoink the tail. Loves to just attack your tail when you’re relaxed or least expect it.

Once he realizes what effect catnip has on you, it’s game over. He can get you to do whatever he wants! After you play, rub, eat and sniff the catnip. And if he can get and keep your attention. Maybe this was a mistake…

Will absolutely get you cat toys. You don’t enjoy them, yet you do. It’s Tommy’s way of patronizing you but they’re also so fun. Man what a conundrum....

His favorite toy to get you is a laser pointer. Easy entertainment for everyone! Plus it’s his secret weapon. Admittedly his newest. It was something he should’ve realized ages ago. But now? Oh it’s his new best friend- besides you of course.

Losing an argument? Pull out the laser pointer? Wanting you to do something because he’s too lazy? Point that little red dot at a point where you pouncing on it gets his job done.

Play fighting is a very common occurrence between the two of you. Happens right out of the blue. You two could literally be chilling on a hill and then you two are wrestling aggressively on the ground.

Tommy also tries to spook you. Is it effective? Sometimes. Usually not. But when he’s able to get you to jump and just bolt away screaming? Man those are the best reactions! You jump so high too!

Tubbo

Aw man, here comes another fuzzy duo!! You two can easily chill out with each other. It’s incredible. You both calm down together. And just chit chat so much. Emotional support friend? Sure.

You’re so good with Micheal too. Micheal just wants to pet you so much. Big cat? But also human? Good friend? Cool friend? Soft and fuzzy friend!! You’re like a giant talking cat to him, for lack of a better description. You can do human stuff. You just got some animal features.

Another duo that will just cuddle. Bring in Ranboo and Micheal while you’re at it. Make it a family cuddle session!! The little group will see two people cuddling and go “I must join”.

I feel he has an area to grow plants in Snowchester. He just has to. So you know what that means? He’ll grow you stuff! Load of cat grass and some catnip along with other greenery that you like to much on. He makes sure they aren’t poisonous to cats- wait how much of that will apply to you? Do you know?

Okay so you two play fight, but much less aggressively than you and Tommy would. You two also include Micheal. Very gentle play fighting then. Like ultra.

You two fight with what your instincts are telling you. Mostly acting out on the funny animal behaviors that’ll make Micheal laugh or just to have fun with it.

He will get you so many soft things. Just so much. Soft blankets, fluffy pillows and so much else man. Especially trying to get the squishy and soft stuff so you can knead it. Honestly a very endearing sight. You purr so heavily doing it.

Now you two will do gentle headbutts of affection. Very gentle, mind you. You two are very wary of the horns that peak through Tubbo’s fluffy hair. Sometimes the two of you won’t gently butt heads, but butt your heads against other body parts like the upper arm or shoulder. To grab attention and show affection.

Purpled

Now this relationship is going to be mildly different from the get go. There won’t be an innate sense of “what’s right” or how hybrids function as a being/person. See, Purpled is a human. You are a cat hybrid. Two very different species. The backgrounds and some of the body language is different, but you two manage quite well.

So he’ll treat you differently than the other hybrids. Well, only a wee bit. He’lll treat you like the others but in a different way, with a different tone to his actions. It’s very sweet, but you tell him it’s not necessary. He still does it.

One of the cat-like things he found out was that you don’t like water. People usually like water and some cats like water, yet you’re like a majority of cats. You despise getting wet. Attempts at smacking anything that’s getting you wet was what clued him in on this. Specifically when he accidentally did it. Oops.

You two can’t swim together. Napping is really out of the question because he has work and sleeping doesn’t seem like the most interesting activity. Although relaxing, it isn’t too productive.

Activities are hard to come by; stuff you’d want to do with Purpled is stuff he definitely doesn’t want to do and vise versa. After a standstill on what to do, you two started to get creative with the ideas.

Building super tall buildings? Although not safe for Purpled, you can easily take the fall. Along with that, Purpled is more than happy to build tall things. You can’t tell me otherwise because this man built a whole ufo.

Sometimes he’ll even bring you on his mercenary missions. It’s a cool way to hang out and have some more one-on-one time and you two get to work together. A very pog situation.

He tries to give you a part of the money; 50-50 for you guys. But you deny. It was his job, you just came around. Although not too happy about it, because you two worked together on this, he’ll concede. After all, he can just slowly slip the money into your house.

On these trips you not only provide companionship but you also are more than ready to work. Maybe playing coy and cute for a patron at a bar to lure them out and away from the public eye to be executed by Purpled. Or it could be a simple distraction of someone running by. Maybe you’re able to pickpocket the target and get what’s needed. You’re a cute and fuzzy swiss army knife

He loves to get on higher surfaces than you and try to pick you up. Even if it’s only enough to just get your feet on the ground. You do the little cat extension thingy and he thinks that’s super cool and funny. So he’ll do it often. Though you try to object, claiming to not enjoy the process at all. Yet that smile and giggles say otherwise.

#mcyt x reader #tommy x reader #dsmp x reader #tubbo x reader #ranboo x reader #dsmp shipping #mcyt shipping #dsmp!tommy #dsmp!ranboo #dsmp!tubbo #dsmp!purpled #purpled x reader #dodo writing #c: tommy #c: ranboo #c: tubbo #c: purpled

[cruddyborderlandstheories]

Eden-6!!

I am. so fucking tired. but I’m also late asf for Eden-6 stuff to the point it got its video release, so here I am playing catch up.

tl;dr: swamp planet!! we get some cool shots of Alitair and Aurelia, i, surprise surprise, still do not trust mr. wainwright, i tried to form an argument that these ruins we see across the planet are abandoned Atlas facilities/ships, but ~who knows~. also i would (and probably will) die for the saurians. i love them so much. one of them has a funky bone hat. it’s great. also also “stop the CoV before they gain control” [looks at trailers and behind closed doors intro] ... uh oh gamers...

“A backwater swampland of a planet, and family home of the Jakobs clan. Eden-6 is covered by lush greenery and stagnant waters, dotted with occasional settlements and the rusted hulks of crashed spaceships. Civilization has never fully taken hold here, and indigenous dangers including ravenous Saurians and semi-sentient Jabbers effectively rule the planet. As if you didn't already have enough to worry about, the Children of the Vault have a presence here as well.”

im excited for the abandoned spaceships, those things look fucking bad. ass.

Ambermire I am guessing is one of the more swampy areas? Jakob’s Manor is obvious, and Fort Sunshine I’m guessing is that abandoned facility we’ve been seeing around the trailers. unfortunately we don’t get too good of a look at the fortress (shakes fist at gearbox) but we do get some other stuff!

im gonna go over the instagram video first because the pics are a treat so we’re saving them for last.

sorry for the progress bars btw lol

i fucking love that gas giant. so much.

swamps are one of my least favorite biomes, but i know gearbox is going to make me love it.

also a look at one of the crashed ships! (i assume) looks like Atlas to me. Or old Hyperion, but tbh idk why Hyperion would be on Eden-6. so Atlas it is.

a look at one of the settlements. i really love the contrast between this planet and Promethea and Athenas.

those gross pod things on the right? idk if they’re egg sacs or plants or what but i both hate them and love them. also whatever that is glowing on the bottom left. i wanna touchy

Jakobs manor!! honestly a lot less extravagant in the front than i was expecting. also now we know this one shot

is definitely not in front of Jakobs Manor. could be the back entrance or smth tho. looks like it leads into a garden-y area.

my question is, is it a Jakobs thing to enjoy hunting? because it seems like it’s a Jakobs thing to enjoy hunting. also i don’t trust Jakobs. I know I’ve said that, like, a bajillion times, but i don’t. and those metal cowboy-lookin’ robots are totally theirs.

im just surprised the Hammerlocks are living in the Manor. I assumed they were like... visiting. now im pretty convinced mr. wainwright down here is evil because only Alistair is on Sanc-III and we’re all assuming that the Sanc-III demo (not the more recent one) takes place after Athenas, right? 

and OMG YES lilith’s tattoos aren’t visible in the newest video on sanc-iii!! im hoping that means she gets her powers back!! im giddy to look over it 30 times i cannot wait. but one post at a time.

evil. evil man.

he either dies or he’s evil i don’t trust him and hammerlocks eye shouldn’t be red in the We Are Mayhem trailer i just... im so suspicious of this man.

AURELIA i love her so much. she was great in TPS, one of my mains. her new outfit is popping, i love the boots.

also she has 2 ice diadem shards now and im terrified yet oddly happy for her.

ALISTAIR. i legitimately thought he was on Promethea at first, then i realized this is probably part of the abandoned facility/fortress. shame we don’t get a closer look at it.

also look who’s eye is back to being not-red again!

also the writing on the back there makes me even more convinced this is Atlas facility. on Promethea, the parts of the Meridian city are labeled with these unique symbols (so far i’ve seen blue and red) and this red one looks like it fits the mark perfectly.

these look like the same canisters from the mine on Pandora. whatcha pumpin eden-6?

more red plants. i like how different this can look from athenas, yet still have very similar foliage. outstanding move, gearbox.

is that another crashed ship in the background??? yes pls. also this dude’s face paint is giving me huge Mask of Mayhem vibes, I love it.

the inside of Jakobs Manor

i hate to tell you this mr. gearbox sir but im pretty sure they do

yeesh. 

also that one scene of troy in the manor as well

dis one

is that the globe in the background? anyone know? im trying to remember where the fuck ive seen that shot of the library/globe. hmmmmmmmmmm

it is not the globe whump whump. i am excited to explore this library tho. 

what looks like fishing net on the right? wild

also car!!

no wings/fins like in the Mask of Mayhem trailer tho, that sucks.

i like this dude. especially his face paint.

i like this glowing crystals even more tho

purple crystals that mimic troy’s red ones? me likey.

eridium? maybe! slag to chug when u need more power? maybe! i don’t know!

j̷̧̭͙̹̭̀̽͆̕͘u̸̦͌̃͛̕̕s̴̡̰͙̣͊̂̔t̴͇̪͐ͅ ̸̭̐́w̵̧̯̲͊̀̃̄̕a̵̢͓̎́̏̓t̷̪̓̑̎͜c̶̢̢͔̀h̴̥̬̪̫̫̿ ̶̪̬̞̼͐̾̉͐̒ơ̵̼̋̍̓̕u̵̻̪̞̞̺̐̾̀̚͠t̶͉̠̟͉̪̋̈̿ ̶̢̗̗͑f̵̰̫͇̈̾ọ̴͑r̶̢͕̺͈͎̃̌͘ ̸̩͆̏̅a̸͈̙̪̋̏ǹ̷̮͚͍̽͜ģ̵̠̀̍̋̔r̴̪̦̾̇̕͠y̷̘͖̜̿͑̅̀ͅ ̷̬̱͉̗͌̇j̵̹͇̽͗̕ā̸̳͇͈̠̺b̴̰̏͜b̴̘͗̔e̷͖̓͊r̸͍̫̻̊͆̊s̸̛̙̳͔̗̋̓͝ 

also check that glowy light in the background. totally Atlas.

also also i like they have little hanging nest/house things. those are really cute.

this motherfucker is coming at us with a sledgehammer ffs

i like their tiger stripe designs. they blend in with the leaves, which i guess is an evolutionary advantage all things considered.

I LOVE THESE FUNKY LITTLE MOTHERFUCKERS

LOOK AT THIS DUDE!!! HE’S GOT A BONE HAT! I LOVE HIM!!!

AND THEY FUCKING BREATHE FIRE??

GLOWING YELLOW EYES!!!

A SPLIT JAW! WHO DOESN’T LOVE THESE LITTLE DUDES???

i fucking love Saurians holy shit

okay okay okay okay

picture time 😎

i love the skybox on Eden-6, holy shit it’s beautiful. also, those sacs/plants/fungi or whatever are definitely volatile.

look at that one glowing red one. that’s totally going to deal some fuckin fire damage to whatever touches it and i for one am ready

also.

can we get an F in chat for Eden-6? lmao i remember being like ‘oh look a gas giant’ in my analysis of every museum of mayhem piece and COMPLETELY FORGETTING that eden-6 has a gas giant directly beside it. big brain fart there.

holy shit i love the color schemes for these things. i know there are blue ones as well, but these orange/yellow/red ones are FANTASTIC. i especially love the shiny yellow ones. they’re so pretty!!

we also get a mostly obscured window in the back there

possibly part of the abandoned facility? but more than likely just part of a crashed ship.

like (im assuming) this one!

the doors match up to Sanctuary-III quite well. also the bones on the ground. i love the regrowth aesthetic they’ve got going on here.

also apparently ratches have made their home here. these things are fuckin everywhere. they’re like the new rakk holy shit

MY BEAUTIFUL BOYS

look at the one on the bottom right! those blue markings are fuckin stunning and i love the little fins on the sides of his head

and that giant skeleton in the background? that’s some good shit right there! im hoping those are fireflies/some sort of glowing insect around the front there. so we can have pockets of glowing orbs dancing around the map as we explore.

oooo

i really like the hulls of the ships, the one on the far left and the one in the back right.

im mostly interested in this tree. i wonder if it just regrew around some debris or if this is making the stuff on this planet grow wildly out of control. I’m always down for science gone wrong! and with atlas, pretty much anything could go horribly wrong. that’s just their way of doing things.

anyway it is 4 in the am and i am tired, so im gonna pass tf out now and hopefully do Fl4k’s trailer, and a few other posts i gotta catch up on, tomorrow! so hyped for fl4k info!!

#borderlands #bl3 #borderlands 3 #eden-6 #i am so fucking tired holy shit lol #can't wait for fl4k tho #im so ready

[maladaptive-ninja-returns]

Blame It On Your Beats (5)

Bucky x Reader Series

Chapter Content: Fluff, angst, background scores.

Summary: A brush with the underworld leads you on a run, away from what was supposedly your normal life, with Bucky Barnes. You two do not seem to be in sync as Bucky tries to keep you alive, trying your best not to kill each other. Or that’s what you think you are doing.

Series: contains smut, adult content in there somewhere in the future chapters so please look at the chapter content and warnings before you proceed.

Chapter Warnings: None.

A/N: This series is written for @littledarlinhavefaithinme ‘s MK Writing Challenge. Thank you so much for hosting. I am having a lot of fun with the prompts. But I am clearly behind schedule. Eep! Thanks for being so patient!

Tags for this fic are open

MASTERLIST

“Go study some technical shit Y/N. You’ll earn better, Y/N. Why not take something more relevant than these old religious symbols, Y/N. Why are you always digging up the past, Y/N? Go make some friends, Y/N. Is that your boyfriend, Y/N? Are you into girls, Y/N! What happened to your friends, Y/N? Go build up a network at college, Y/N. It'll be fun Y/N.”

Your incoherent mumbling filled the air apart from the periodic ocean tides hitting their head with the rocky shores.

“Go fuck yourself, Y/N. We can only do so much from our side, Y/N,” you muttered under your breath kicking stones in your path as you walked behind Bucky to wherever he was leading you.

“Here?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you sure?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Explain it to me again?”

If the ground could crack on his command, Bucky would've let himself be swallowed up half an hour ago.

His clenched jaw was vividly telling you he was in no mood to explain why the two of you were heading to the cosy hotel standing on the- not that high but farther from the shore you'd stepped on- hilltop that overlooked the other side of the shore- one jump from where the estate ended would land you safely on the sand, though you wondered why you thought of it that way. Looking at your new partner for the week, you felt like it was more of a subconscious exercise.

The hotel grounds were nothing if not pure greenery with giant rocks protruding here and there, like a huge game of whack-a-rock that someone stopped playing a long time ago. The trees lined up the entrance and the boundaries of the walkway that was made and aligned with the grey stones, allowing nature to mark the boundaries for itself. The shrubbery on the other side of the low stone wall gave the gardens a well maintained elegant privacy of their own.

The yellow structure in the middle of all the green was a welcoming site; probably also the reason you'd spotted it from far away. It was decorated with red tiles on the sloping roofs, the windows, doors and balconies marking all the sides other than the entrance, letting the visitors enjoy the view this place had to offer.

Where the heck did he bring me?

The frustration you'd felt against Bucky had melted an hour ago, thanks to the sun shining directly above you, no longer allowing the wind to bully your shivering body, building up the much-desired warmth after the unwelcoming dampness.

“The place is isolated,” Bucky explained, never stopping to turn and look whether you were behind him or not, making you curse that he had super sensitive hearing and had probably heard your stomach growl ten times now, “away from the city. So not much crowd. More privacy. Near to the shore. So we can make a quick getaway if we want to. Near to the hillside-” he raised his voice a bit- “so I can shove people off the cliff who throw too much shade. Also because there isn’t another place for at least ten miles according to the sailor who gave us a ride.”

You were listening to him, taking in every word by your ears, but your eyes were scanning the few guests of the hotel that were sharing languid moments under the sun. Two men standing by the hillside, breathing in the air coming from the mountains behind them as one wrapped the other in a playful hug. A brunette sitting on a yellow beach chair in khaki shorts and a white tank top with a man dressed in something exactly the same- right down to the shade and fabric- was on a video call with someone, overwhelmingly cheery as she showed the scenery around her to the person on the other end of the phone. Another pair stood facing the beach under a spacious gazebo- two women, a short-haired caucasian wearing the darkest lipstick and an Asian, light and bubbly on her feet, her purple hair playing with the local wind on a beat of its own- taking pictures of the landscape and the rocks all the while giggling amongst themselves.

“I am surprised,” you iterated, not facing away from the sight you were scanning, “that you even know what throwing shade means, I really am. But I don't think you've accounted for all the possible scenarios.”

Your heavy soggy boots tapped on the stones as you two kept moving towards the entrance, your head finally turning towards Bucky when he didn't bother asking what you were talking about.

“Sergeant,” you whispered, jogging a bit to keep up with his pace, “did you hear what I just said?”

You saw him chuckle for the first time, sending tingles of pure amusement down your limbs. “Of course I heard you.”

That's it.

You felt the dying embers of irritation being poked at as he looked at you from the corner of his eyes for a passing moment, a light smirk hanging on his lips.

“James, listen to me,” you whispered again, wanting to get his attention towards your own speculation.

He ignored you.

Again.

The embers felt a flicker at another poke.

“Seriously?” You hissed, trying not to grab attention from the guests scattered by your side- who were already eyeing the two of you as if you'd just murdered some puppies and they could smell the guilt all over you- when you came closer to the doors of the cosy mansion that had looked like a tiny house from a distance.

“Listen,” his husky voice whispered near you as he slowed down- but didn't stop- to let you match his pace, “I think I have enough experience and age over you to know what is and is not safe.”

“I am not questioning your exp-”

“So, try to act normal for a few minutes,” he muttered.

You tried to explain your concerns to him but he was already heading for the reception.

The entrance was wide in front and on top of you- cream tiles gracing your feet while a vintage chandelier hung above your head. The Mediterranean windows ran up the entire length on either side of you- your left adorned in a mauve setting of sofas while your right designed into a lounging area complete with a swinging chair and two oakwood bookcases adorning the walls that enclosed that area. Right in front of you ran a corridor to what you could make out was the back and an elevator to one side.

Bucky walked towards the reception right at the left end of the entrance where a redhead sat playing on his phone, his device crying out at irregular intervals ‘cupcake smash!’

You took the opportunity and the deserted reception to slide the tracker ring off your one finger to another before going ahead and standing by Bucky's side at the marble counter.

“Hi,” Bucky addressed the receptionist, who responded with just one quick glance at the two of you, not even pausing to register your light handshake and a hint of a smile at him.

You heard a clack of heels coming out of one of the corridors in the mansion, turning to look at a gorgeous, tall, olive-skinned woman with fiery dense auburn curls walking in your direction.

“We'd like to take two rooms, please.” Bucky's words made the woman squint her eyes at both of you as she came closer.

Your instincts set in like a rushing tidal wave entering a lagoon, wanting to control whatever water had spilt in, making you wrap your hands around Bucky's shoulder, taking both him and you by surprise.

It wasn't even two seconds in which he had registered your touch and swung his head towards you at your unaccounted action, his aquamarine eyes questioning you.

“Oh, I don't think Steve and Nat are coming...honey,” you stated in your softest voice that broke at the last word just like The Caretaker's song: A Relationship With The Sublime.

Bucky blinked at you, his breath stuck somewhere in that perfect chest.

“Yeah,” you nodded, your brows arching with concern as your arms twisted more around his metal, “Nat told me they'd be here by ten if the weather was nice to them. It's thirty minutes past twelve now.”

Bucky was still trying to deal with your hold around his metal arm that shone through the black of his shirt when the lady came behind the reception with her warmest smile.

“Sorry to hear about your friends,” her heavy yet soothing voice addressed you, “I'm assuming you two are a couple?”

Bucky’s flushed face did a ‘huh?’ as it turned towards the woman, clearly at a loss of words.

“Because if you're not, I'm sorry, we'll have to ask you to leave for this is a couples-only BnB,” she stated.

“Mr and Mrs Barnes,” you announced as you found Bucky being no help for some reason, before pretending to shy into his shoulder as you played with the duochrome band on your ring finger.

Bless Stark for his aesthetically pleasing tech.

“Oh my Gosh!” a shrill voice came from the same direction the woman had walked out from, “is that a newly married couple!”

Another woman came out of the shadows, dancing rather than walking, her pale face brightly lit with the warmest smile on her face as her fiery red hair curled slightly at the ends below her chest. Her yellow sundress danced around her hips when she made her way towards the two of you.

“Meera! We do have the room for…” the lady turned to look at you with a soft smile.

“Y/N. Y/N...Barnes,” you declared, your insides shuddering at the echo of the name within you before you tilted a bit towards Bucky, “This is James Barnes. My...partner!”

Meera looked at you with a comfortable smile sitting on her thick lips as you brought your hand forward for a shake, making you wonder if that smile was contentment or calculation.

“I’m Louise! This is my wife Meera!” The red-head took your hand and gave it a firm shake, colouring your impressed. “Welcome to our humble lodgings!”

The accent dripping off her pink lips had a hint of European touch like she was used to some other tongue but was quite fluent in English.

“Are you guys on your honeymoon?” She nearly jumped.

“Yes,” you answered.

“No,” Bucky blurted.

Now he wants to talk!

Think, think, think! I swear on the ancient hieroglyphics if you don’t work right now, I’ll sell my soul to some alien who’d love to do experiments on you.

That was...one way to get your brain to work.

And just like that, a lightbulb went off.

“Darling,” you moaned lightly for effects as you brought your opposite hand forward to Bucky’s torso, making him flinch a little under your touch before his flesh hand came and took yours in his with a smile plastered on his face for the audience, “I promise we will travel to Rome just like you wanted. Till then let’s enjoy this vacation as a honeymoon!”

Without waiting for his reply you turned towards Louise.

“This was supposed to be a getaway with his brother and brother’s girlfriend. But they couldn’t make it.”

“Well,” Meera interjected, “in a way, it’s good that they couldn’t. Our hotel has a strict couples policy.”

“Aw, come on, pumpkin!” Louise brushed off her wife’s claim with an arched brow, “I’m sure we could have made room for a couple just in the bloom of their relationship.

Natasha’s definitely going to enjoy this. Steve? Not so much.

“Zemo! Take their bags to their room,” Meera commanded the guy busy playing Kwazy Cupcakes, who groaned for a length before getting up, looking down at the empty floor, turning to you and Bucky before finally slouching on the marble counter to get back to his game.

“We lost our bags at the airport,” Bucky mentioned before the ladies could speak anything, his fingers moving the ring around in your finger, “There was an issue with the connecting flights and our luggage got sent over to the other country.”

Meera clicked her tongue, making you freeze for a moment, feeling your hands go cold at the thought of her having caught on to something. But Bucky’s reassuring warm fingers pressed against yours, helping your heartbeat calm down a little.

“It was the Hey Air wasn’t it?” She spoke as she turned around to pick a key from the board. “They always do this. Always.”

“Aw?” you let out a sympathetic cry, “Really?”

“Yes, my dear,” Louise nodded with a grim expression, “we have had so many couples over the years with nothing on them but the clothes on their back because that forsaken airline would not do its job correctly. Anyways, come, we have a whole bunch of clothes here at your disposal because we are pretty much always expecting this to happen. You and I are almost the same sizes, Y/N!”

You looked at Lousie’s gorgeous figure and wondered in what world did this Goddess think you were anywhere near her stunning anatomy, following her into the elevator with Bucky right behind you.

“So,” Louise, continued as pressed the button to the first floor and leaned on the golden mirrored wall, “what do you do Mr and Mrs Barnes?”

That name was really sending some weird shivers down your spine as you were trying to persuade a sweet smile to stay on your lips.

“He’s a diving instructor,” you commented, trying to suppress the growing smile and the heated blush, “really good at his job. He tries to take people by surprise. Pushes them beyond...way beyond their comfort level.”

You knew from the cold sparkles running down the left side of your shoulder that Bucky was looking at you, boring his raging gaze at you while you enjoyed the duality of your words in your mind.

“Oh! That’s interesting! Really interesting!” your audience exclaimed.

“And she is a professional runner,” Bucky chimed in, making you jump at his hot touch on the small of your back that pushed you close to him.

“Not professionally, love,” you pretended to correct him trying to hide your fragile senses under the action.

“Right, sorry, doll,” Bucky apologised, “professionally, she is a gravedigger. Once she finds even an ounce of a distortion in the past, she just doesn’t let it go. No matter how small it may seem to the world.”

Louise raised her brows in utter amusement at his words while you were still trying to compose yourself under his touch, his warmth growing up inside you with every passing second, making your stomach feel emotions you never knew could be triggered in there.

“You mean an archaeologist?”

“Historian,” you corrected both of them, bringing your hand towards Bucky torso to have it caught mid-air by his metal. You tried to go back at his torso only to have the grip tighten a little, twisting your fingers into his- and he welcomed the gesture- so as to not make the red head suspicious of the two of you.

Two can play this game, Barnes.

The slow strings turning into a full blast of Handmade Ego running around you, first making you think your mind was at it again, teasing you, before you realised it was the elevator song.

“Oh, Mrs Barnes,” Louise pointed at your wrist, her expression growing sullen for a moment, “your wrists.”

Both you and Bucky turned to look at your bruised wrist that rested in Bucky’s hand, making you mentally hide your other one out of Bucky and Lousie’s view but to no avail. Bucky’s hot hand left the small of your back to bring forward the hidden one for inspection, his expression turning into one filled with a veiled ache that only reflected through his eyes.

“Oh, this?” you were quick to interrupt the morbid silence that had suddenly started to creep in. “It happened during the wedding. There’s this tradition of-”

“Wearing bracelets blessed by the high priest for the occasion?” Louise completed your sentence questioningly as a soft smile eroded her lips. “I did that too. Meera and I, we both did.”

For a moment you stood there, silent.

What in the name of heavens was this woman made of?

Everything that could help you in saving your life, I suppose, your inner voice spoke with a shrug.

“Yes. Yes, I did.” You nodded with a smile before turning to Bucky with an assured gaze, knowing somewhere inside your heart he would blame himself to have gone so hard on you when it was you who had incited him. The heat from your cheeks radiated under his soft gaze that wanted to know you were alright- actually alright, not just pretending for people.

“I’m fine,” you whispered with a nod and a gentle stroke of your thumb on the back of his palm, making him exhale.

Bucky looked for any little giveaway in your eyes that could tell him otherwise and when he found none, he let go of your hands.

“Bless my eyes,” Louise spoke, her head resting on the reflective wall as she grinned from ear to ear while pressing her hands to her cheeks, “you two are so much in love.”

Now neither of you could resist the laugh.

Fifteen minutes later, you and Bucky were shown to your room on the second floor- the area completely decorated in a hue of yellow that was more soothing than the one outside, lighting up the inside of the Mediterranean setting of the bed that stood by the wall opposite the entrance of the room, two doors leading out to the balconies while a bathroom- with no door, mind you- rested on the only wall that had no doorway.

“See you at dinner, Mr and Mrs Barnes,” Louise cooed as she wiggled her brows at you, making you want to throw up at the thought of what she was implying.

“Please, call us by our first names,” you nearly begged her.

She bowed a little before taking her leave.

Bucky shut the door behind you walked about the room, breathing in the hot but pleasant air, your fingers stroking the old furniture under your tips.

“How did you know?”

You turned the knob on the old radio, Tender’s Hypnotised setting the mood around you. “I’ve been single long enough to know which places smell of nothing but lovebirds,” you scoffed.

“So,” Bucky’s back pushed the door, making it click close, “diving instructor, huh, Mrs Barnes?”

The air changed around you, making you turn the knob back off. You felt Bucky’s gaze easing on your back, touching your skin to let it feel the goosebumps of curiosity.

“I really need to set some ground rules with you,” he stated, his husky voice marking the air currents in the room along with the strings of your heart.

You felt him come closer, his scorching frame towering from behind you, making you pause your breathing as he bent a little so his face was close to your ears to whisper his words.

“And I don’t think you’re going to like it.”

Continued Here

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#bucky x reader #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes series #marvel fluff #marvel soft smut #marvel smut #fluff #smut

[justanotherloveaffair]

I Trust You (Part 2/8)  - Chadwick x Reader

Link to Part 1                                                                                 Link to Part 3

Summary:  You struggle with handling your emotions and letting Chadwick in to help you.

Warnings: None, just angst

Word Count: 3,091

Author’s Note: Thank you everyone who embraced this story. I wasn’t going to write more but I feel like there’s much more of this to tell. There will definitely be a part 3. I’m really enjoying writing this.

Your name: Submit (what is this?)

My Masterlist

Taglist: @purple-apricots, @deliciousstreetkidcroissant, @onyour-right@maverickabull, @lavitabella87   **Let me know if you want to be added/removed from this taglist.

“Y/N…”

At the light tapping on your shoulder, you awoke with a groan at your stiff neck muscles as you swiveled towards the sound of Chadwick’s voice.

“We’re here.”

You joined him outside the car. Chadwick’s form was shadowlike as he led the way towards the large, illuminated porch.

“After you.” He held the door open, and you stepped through the threshold.

An immaculate room bigger than your apartment welcomed you, lush ferns and greenery hugging the corner spaces. Beyond the open plan concept living area was the kitchen and breakfast bar, lit with potted lights and a low modern chandelier that illuminated the space with Chadwick’s flick of a switch. From your first impression, his taste was modern, with some bold pops of colour and prints adding character to the otherwise relaxing energy.

That out of place, intimidated feeling from earlier in his Lexus returned, and you crossed your arms in front of your body looking around like you didn’t know where you should stand.

After tossing his keys on an entryway shelf, he noticed you waiting politely and urged you forward, “Come in, come in.”

“It’s really nice,” you remarked, cringing a little as the word nice came out of your mouth, like you were commenting on a grandma’s doilies.

“Thanks,” he smiled. As he took the lead, guiding you into the living room, you noticed the swagger in his walk, how the casual effortlessness of it matched the energy of his home.

You were invited to sit down on the couch, and you did, putting your purse next to you.

“I’m just going to get the spare room ready,” he announced, hands on hips. “Been a while since anyone’s used it. You okay sleeping in one of my shirts?”

A little breath escaped you before you could stop it. “Oh, sure.”

Chadwick continued, “I’ll get you the wifi password, a towel, toothbrush,” he counted out on his fingers, looking ceiling-ward in thought. “I’ll make sure there’s a phone charger, enough pillows…” he continued his checklist while you nodded in the appropriate gaps.

“Okay, sorry.” He stopped himself, laughing when he realized he’d trailed off and you were still watching him attentively. “I’ll be right back. Just get comfortable, and uh….” He bent down to fetch the remote off the glass coffee table, and the Sportscentre programming resumed with a click.  He thrust the remote to you. “Here, you can change it. I’ll just be a few minutes.”

He seemed nervous, mumbling to himself and you noticed him rubbing his palms on his jeans as he headed down a hallway, flicking on lights as he went.

You were more into playing sports than watching them, but didn’t have the energy for channel flipping and the sound of commentators discussing plays of the day was unobtrusive and comforting background noise.

The vibrating buzz of a text message came from your purse next to you. You realized it had been hours since you looked at it last. Since before… everything.

You fished it out of your bag.

Cole: Where you at? You’re never out this late.

You started typing. I’m with a friend... I’ll be home in a few days.

Immediately, a grey speech bubble appeared. A friend? Who?

You let out a slow breath and looked up just as Chadwick re-emerged in the hallway, about to speak, but the look on your face stopped him.

“What’s wrong?” He glanced down at the phone in your hands.

Without responding to the message, you tucked it back in your purse and gave Chadwick your full attention. “Nothing, just… Cole. My ex. Wondering where I am,” you explained, trying to pass off an impression of casual indifference.

He nodded in understanding, and you noticed clouds immediately gather over his brow at the mention of him.

“Did you wanna…. talk to him?” He asked in a way that you could tell he hoped the answer was no.

You shook your head. “No, I think I’m gonna turn in actually. If that’s okay.”

“Of course,” he smiled, his round shoulders relaxing. “I was just about to show you your room. Come on.”

You stood from the couch, already imagining yourself crawling into bed. As you followed Chadwick down the hall, he stopped to point out the main bathroom, the first guest bedroom, the second guest bedroom, and you wondered just how good his paychecks must be to afford a place that could fit your entire family.

At the end of the hallway he gestured towards an open door where a soft light was emanating.

The room was minimally decorated, but cozy. Next to a nightstand with a single lamp was a queen bed, topped with thick blankets and enough pillows to satisfy even the biggest pillow hog. Across from the bed, a dresser with a potted palm for greenery.

On the dresser were folded towels, an assortment of toiletries, and folded clothes.

“Hope you don’t mind repping some of my past jobs,” he snatched a square of fabric from the clothes pile, grinning downwards as he unrolled a large black t-shirt with Gods of Egypt emblazoned in gold lettering. “I never wear these things.” He made a face. “Specially this one.”

“I can’t imagine why not,” you hid your smile as he handed the shirt over to you, and when you held it against your body it went to your knees. 

“Bathroom’s in the hallway, it should have everything you need but let me know if it doesn’t. Oh and wifi password,” he picked up and waved a sticky note with neat, block letters. “Very important.”

“Chadwick,” you said his name with seriousness. “Thank you.”

He shifted on his foot, the cool, charming guy slipping for the quickest of seconds into a moment of shyness at your sincerity, then recovering fast, he waved his hand. “Don’t mention it. I’m just across the hall,” he pointed behind him. “Just holler if you need anything.”

“I will. Thank you.”

It was nearly imperceptible, but Chadwick’s eyes flitted quickly over you.

“Goodnight.”

“Night.” You watched him turn and back out, and squeezed your fingernails into the balled-up fabric of the t shirt.

At the sound of his door clicking closed, you carried your towel bundle into the bathroom and returned fifteen minutes later, cleansed from the day’s sweat, dirt and blood, your muscles soothed by hot, perfect water pressure. With the dried blood gone, you found the cut on your head was small, but blooming into an ugly purple bruise.

You shut off the lamp and with a groan of pleasure crawled into bed. Soft, clean sheets covered you up to your chin where you tucked them, serving as both a comfort and an absorbing fabric for your tears that came without warning. You let them come, not bothering to wipe them away, but welcoming them for the friend they were and with their salty warmth your only companionship, you fell asleep.

` ` `

On Saturday mornings, you were used to Dodger jumping on your bed early for a walk, but without your dog-shaped alarm, the early hours came and went with you remaining fast asleep.

When you finally pulled back the covers on your over-heated body to grab sleepily for your phone, a jolt of surprise went through you to see it was just before 10:00am.

As your feet met the hardwood floor you stretched your aching muscles, yawning, and marvelled at the silence that met you. Normally, on a Saturday you could hear the noisy lives of neighbours through the paper-thin walls: heavy footsteps, the shrill tones of couples fighting, loud music shaking your roof with bass. And in your own apartment, the sound of cartoons, Cole on the phone, Dodger whining.

The silence was peaceful.

Still wearing the shirt, you crept into the hallway, stopping in the bathroom to relieve your bladder.

Slinking further down the hall, you came across the sounds of a keyboard clicking away and then the owner, sitting at the breakfast bar, looking down in concentration before he glanced up at the padding of your feet.

He was even more beautiful than you remembered.

He slipped an earbud from one ear, smiling as you approached the end of the counter he was sitting at, hugging your arms around your form.

“Morning.”

“Morning,” you began and ended the word with a yawn, and his smile widened, eyes twinkling with charm. “Looks good on you,” he glanced down at the giant shirt and you gave a quiet laugh. “Did you have a good sleep?”

You nodded, noticing his half-finished juice and workout clothes and acknowledged it with a flick of your chin, “That looks …. healthy.”

He laughed, a musical, attractive sound that instantly made you want to hear it again.

“Don’t worry, I have normal food. You hungry? Want coffee?”

At your grateful look, he popped the other earbud out and got down from the tall bar stool, making his way to the counter to busy himself with your coffee while you took a seat. You watched the choreography of his movements as he brought over a steaming mug of coffee, then started digging in the fridge and putting food on various plates in front of you.

Toast, a bowl of bananas, yogurt and granola tempted your eyes and stomach which growled with a loud twinge.

As you ate, he returned to his laptop in respectful silence, but he seemed distracted, and eventually closed the screen.

He turned to you. “How you feelin?”

By his tone, you knew he was looking for a real answer and after swallowing a piece of toast, you met his eyes. “Better… I think. I dunno, I’m trying not to think about it.”

He contemplated your answer with a nod, his face open with warmth and sympathy in his naturally expressive eyes.

“That’s fair. There’s no right way or wrong way to deal with it.”

You nodded at his wisdom, but didn’t offer any more insights into your mind. He chewed on his lip as he absorbed your quietness. Feeling awkward, you began to unpeel a banana for something to do with your hands while Chadwick drummed his fingers on the counter, looking full of thoughts and questions but verbalizing none of them.

“Well, as flattering as that is on you,” he pointed at the shirt, “I imagine you’ll want to change into something else. I need to head downtown today, if you want I can find you something to wear on the way back?”

You sat up straight. “Oh, I have some spare clothes in my car. If you’re heading downtown, mind dropping me off around my office building and I’ll drive back?”

He considered you with narrowed eyes. “You sure you want to head back there so soon after…”

“I’ll be fine. I need my car.” You responded curtly, and after hearing yourself out loud, your defensive tone confused you as much as him.

“Okay. I just thought it might be…. never mind.” He shrugged and slid off the stool to begin clearing the counter. Tension filled the air between you and feeling guilty for causing it, you began to help him with the dishes.

“Nope, you’re a guest,” he placed his hand on your arm and some of the tension melted with his smile. “Go finish your coffee.”

You agreed to leave in half an hour, giving you plenty of time to brush your teeth and check your phone for messages while Chadwick showered in record time and changed.

He brought you one of his sweaters, and you slipped it around your shoulders gratefully as you walked outside into the cooler fall air. The fabric lingered with the clean scent of detergent and behind it, his own smell, one you were becoming familiar with, and you hugged it around you.

You settled into the passenger side as he drove, lulled by the sunshine and background music. Again, neither of you spoke. Though normally you rushed to fill gaps in conversation, between you, silence felt just as comfortable.

Traffic was light and it took only the length of four or five songs for him to reach your office building.

As you got closer, you collected your purse from by your feet and instructed, “Just drop me off out front.”

Chadwick looked at you, tensing. “You want to go down there alone? I was plannin to drive down-”

“Just leave me here. I’m fine.”

Again, your tone was flat and Chadwick’s pursed lips indicated his frustration but he kept silent as he stopped at the entrance of the glass skyscraper.

He put the car in park and pulled out his phone. “What’s your number?”

Watching his face, you listed it out and he typed it into his phone. A second later, your phone buzzed in your purse.

“I sent you my number and address, and the security code in case you get home before me.” His business-like tone dissolved when he looked up at you, concern in his brow. “Please message me when you’re in the car.”

“Chadwick, nothing’s going to happen. That guy is long gone.”

“It’s not him I’m worried about, it’s you.” His sincerity made your spine tingle, and you took a deep breath while he continued, “You don’t know what being down there will make you feel and I don’t think you should be alone.”

You couldn’t pinpoint why, but his faultless intentions made you want to run. Irrational as it was, you were irritated at any suggestion you couldn’t handle this on your own. 

Adrenaline coursed through you as you stated, “I can handle it, thank you for your concern.”

You knew you were being rude and petty as hell and he deserved none of it, but that guilt would need to be processed later. You had a point to prove to yourself.

“Okay.” He relented, leaning back in the chair, shoulders falling with defeat. “Sure.”

He avoided your eyes and you avoided his as you thanked him and quickly opened the car door. You closed it without looking back.

Hope you’re proud of yourself, you grumbled and a twinge of regret plucked at your heart.

The sight of an oddly dressed girl stepping out of a brand-new Lexus drew the stares of people in the ground floor coffee shop of your building. You ignored them and pulled out your key card, swiping it to let you inside the tower.

I’m getting into the elevator. Pressing the button. Down to P4. Just like any other day, you narrated internally, keeping you focused on nothing more than the task at hand.

On the weekend, there was hardly anyone in the building and as you rode the elevator you yearned to be surrounded by people and noise.

When the door opened at P4 and you saw the parking lot, a crop of fresh memories suddenly barraged you from all sides.

You were so eager for Chadwick to be wrong, that your response to the anxiety tightening in your chest was one of anger. This is nothing more than a bodily response, you coached yourself. The body is stupid and doesn’t know there is no actual danger.

You pushed through the stiffness and walked through the door, into the open space where only a few cars were parked. Your eyes raced around, searching for any hint of movement. 

The inner voice who had been scolding you for your silly fears suddenly went silent while the nervous chattering of a hysterical, scared little girl took over at the thought -  you had left him there.

What if he was still there? What if he was waiting – waiting for that bitch to have the gall to come back?

That thought made you freeze. Your heart raced, blood pumping loud in your ears. Gugoon. Gugoon. Each heartbeat hot and throbbing in your temples.

Suddenly a loud, metal scraping sound started and you screamed, the sound coming back as a shrill echo. You searched around in your panic and found it was only the garage door gate, and headlights filled your vision from the approaching car.

You must have looked like a terrified deer, every muscle tense and frozen.

To your relief, the car turned and rolled past you, and you glimpsed an old woman with white hair, barely tall enough to peer over the steering wheel.

Just keep going Y/N, you got this. You can do this.

A burst of bravery came to you, allowing you to hurriedly walk all the way to the end where you saw your car.

Your shaking hands pressed the unlock button and the little Honda beeped back with a comforting hello. You took the last few steps at a jog and quickly let yourself in. Once inside, your hand slammed on the lock button, sending all four locks into the down position and you were finally able to let the tension out of your shoulders.

For a moment all you could do was breathe, each pant making your chest heave.

The thought of coming back to this parking lot, five days a week, and the likely possibility of seeing your attacker again made your breakfast suddenly sit uneasy in your stomach, and you broke out in a sweat.

The feeling of revulsion grew. Oh no. An acrid taste filled your mouth with saliva and you managed to get out of the car just in time to lose your breakfast on the pavement.

You heaved and retched until there was nothing left. With a moan, you wiped the tears that showed up and made a grim face at the mess.

When you were sure another round wasn’t coming, you reached into your car for the box of tissues and dabbed at your mouth.

That was when you noticed pale splatters down the front of Chadwick’s shirt and sweater.

You rolled your eyes and sighed. On top of Chadwick having been right, now there was evidence. Nasty, smelly evidence.

In a moment, you made up your mind that he would get his clothes back sparkling clean, sparing you the questions, and decided to make a stop at home.

#Chadwick Boseman #Chadwick Boseman x Reader #Chadwick Boseman x Reader fanfic #Chadwick Boseman fic #Chadwick Boseman fanfic #Chadwick Boseman fanfiction #Chadwick Boseman imagine

[fyrapartnersearch]

Hello~! My name is Fuu! I am here looking for something else this time! My hobbies include writing, cooking, reading, cosplay, crying over fictional characters, crying in general, video games, drawing, and talking to my cats. I work part time at a library. I am 21+. I'm about as intimidating as a pink butterfly stuck on a marshmallow. I'm an absolute chatter box, if I go on a tangent, just reel me back in.

☆○o。RP Preferences 。o○☆ ✦Writing I write in 3rd person format, multi/semi-para. I seek partners who do the same.

✦Replies I am able to reply frequently and I prefer to write with people that can do the same. I won't rush or badger anyone to reply. Take your time! Just not like a month, without warning. I lose muse/forget threads if they're left untouched for 2+ weeks. ✦Communication I enjoy making friends of my rp partners. It really helps me throw ideas/build ships/build stories if we're compatible.  ✦Plotting I highly value plotted threads over unplotted threads. Considering this ad is looking for a specific genre/plot, all I’m looking for is someone who wants to build onto it.  ✦Shipping The ship idea I’m seeking is not entirely romantic or platonic, if that makes sense. It can be either/or/in the middle, to be honest.  ✦Limits I am very squeamish, I can't handle things regarding gore, excessive swearing, excessive vulgarity, etc. very well.

☆○o。What Am I Looking For 。o○☆

I will pose a question. Do you like 70s style anime? That retro, water color, and everyone has a sparkly, floral background? Do you like tragedy with a sprinkling of possible edgy themes? Now, do you wish it had more fairies in it?

No? Just me? Understandable, have a nice day.

Before I give up at turn this into a fanfiction, I wanted to see if I could get some interesting variety through rp! I had discovered this old anime/manga called Kaze to ki no Uta. It has a full manga available online, and an hour long OVA that covers a good 1/3 of the manga, in that beautiful retro, harpsichord filled fashion. 

Now before I go any further, this story specifically has quite a bit of a chip on its shoulder in regards to how edgy it can go. Take a pot of edgy sauce and reduce it down to a sludge and that’s what you have left with this story masquerading as a tragic romance. 

I forgot where I was going with this, point is, it has some dark themes in it (not that I’m seeking those dark themes for writing but it does form a basis as to how I added fairies into the story.. If you want to see a suspension of belief, girl who believes she's part fairy get thrown into the mix of this story, then continue reading!)

This plot as two options Canon or Original. I’m mostly seeking the canon version because that’s how the plot developed in my head, but I did manage to weave a version purely for original basis. Or we can use the canon plot as a basis! Canon would be taking characters and themes from the story. The ‘fairy’ in question is this one. She looks kinda like this but a little older. A walking doll basically. Or this, right from the manga itself. A song that heavily inspires this character is this.  I got nothin' for an excuse besides I thought up a plot and can't get rid of it now. I'm actually not seeking romance (exactly?) from this one. I will say it’s probably 18+ because it has some dark themes in the story.  Canon This part turned into a giant wall of text so to give you the almost shorter version, it’s basically inserting the fairy-like character into a canon characters background and changing some stuff up a bit. If you know the canon story, it’s going to start in Volume 4 of the manga. If you have a general idea of the canon story, we can either follow it or like I said, go with an original, similar idea.

The gist of the story is a boy raised in poor circumstance becomes enchanted by a girl who believes she’s part fairy. It’s so much easier to explain if you know the canon story, so if you’re interested in this, hmu and I can go into further detail. 

The pairing concept, and bear with me cause it's probably going to sound weird, is a boy who never had a mothers love, finding it in a rather twisted way with a girl who very much enjoys taking care of 'things'. She's genuine in her feelings for him, but there's a reason why both characters end up getting drawn to one another. 

What unfolds in the story is a friendship that happens purely by chance, and the strange ways the new person must deal with this supposed demi-fairy girl. Her name is Clarabelle. 

Original Playboy Brat x Demi-Fairy Girl or Goody Two Shoes x Demi Fairy Girl Whether you want to use the 'canon' story line or go with something original is entirely up for us to decide and work on! This plot/set up should work with most character personality types, though I had one or two in mind; brat or goody-two-shoes.

This is a story set in the 19th century, or the general 1800's, in a small town I've yet to think up a name for. This town is very quaint but it's an otherwise quiet place. The idea I had in mind takes place in a sort of... suspended belief of reality, but not so much that fantasy is a part of the story.  There is a house in the more suburban area of the town, where it has its own property, including a garden in both the front and back, and it's covered in all sorts of greenery from flowers, floral bushes, to vines of ivy and trees. It's a very pretty house, but a very quiet one. A woman lives there. Beautiful, rich, sought after by all manner of men and she's quite the social butterfly - it's clear she's the owner of the house. Yet, there is a second inhabitant - a younger, more fair girl.  This story would be focused on the girl and her befriending, or being befriended by a newcomer. What they discover, however they met, is that the person living in this house is a girl not much older than they are (I picture they're about middle to late teens). She seems quite enigmatic, despite having such a social caretaker. The older woman is her aunt, her brother - Clara’s father - is a Duke. When asked who her mother was, she simply replies her mother was a fairy. This is where a mild suspension of belief is asked. For the sake of her enigmatic nature, it's never really confirmed or denied if what she says is true. Strange things seem to happen when she's around though. The house is covered in beautiful flowers and the garden is breathtaking, yet they give it very little care. People seem drawn to the girl when they see her. Her singing can lull even the most alert of people. She attracts the fireflies in the garden at night. Her appearance always seemed heralded by a butterfly, even in the dead of winter. She seems all together other worldly. What unfolds in the story is a friendship that happens purely by chance, and the strange ways the new person must deal with this supposed demi-fairy girl. Her name is Clarabelle. Now, you're probably wondering 'where does the character personality come into play in all this?' Since I created this plot using the canon content, I based the 'newcomer friend' on the personalities of the boys in Kaze; Gilbert and Serge. In this case, Gilbert, the blond one, is the one I originally picked out. He's a brat and she won't be manipulated by him.  I also mentioned the other boy, Serge, has a personality that would also work. Only in this case, he isn't a brat but exactly the opposite. An honest, goodey-two-shoes sort of kid.  How sad their background might be will be entirely dependent on the partner, should they choose to play this sort of character. (I like to think something like two broken people become friends and find themselves whole again after a while)

If you find that any of this has somehow managed to tickle your fancy, you can reach me on gaia at x_panko_x. Obv not everyone uses it so since this is posted on Tumblr, you can reach me OOC wise at whiterosemilktea for further discussion then we can decide where we'll write it out. As far as discord goes, it is also open for rping this genre and I will provide if you are interested. Honestly though, if you even recognize this genre or have seen this manga/anime I would love to talk to at least one other person who has.

#indie rp #indie roleplay #independent roleplay #oc rp #para #semipara #long term #forum #messenger #tumblr #submission

[elsewhereuniversity]

Beware the Field

She arrives on campus simultaneously excited and apprehensive. The summer air is humid, her new classmates range from boisterous to uncomfortable, and she is away from home, for the very first time. Yes, she has heard the rumors about this place, rumors that seem far to fantastical to pay any heed to, but they still color her deepest impressions of the place. A mix of buildings, old and new, pockets of lush greenery that hold an air of mystique, but situated near the glass-and-iron creations of the modern world. A hill beneath their feet that always feels…different. When her classes start, she knows that she is in the right place. Finally, a place where she can dump all of her passion and energy into studying that thing she loves most: the natural world. And though she is loathe to admit it outright, maybe the supernatural world, too.

Her second month of freshman year, she gets a job in her dream lab, doing field and lab work on the biodiversity of local marshes and bogs. She starts off with organizing samples the more senior students bring in from their time in the field. Pinning insects, pressing plants, organizing data on sightings of birds, herps, and mammals, she soon learns all of the tricks needed to succeed in this work. In her youthful naivety, she thinks she’s learned everything she needs to about lab work.

Until, that is, the day when she runs out of pins, and in her desperate search for more (the grad students had left early that afternoon, and she had sworn she would finish the coleoptera today) she finds a cupboard that she swears she’s never seen before. It’s in a back corner, away from the lab benches. It creaks as she opens it, and there, dusty, and sitting alone, is a single box of pins. Not a lot, but enough for her to finish the job. She reaches for them, and as she does so, she hears a scuffle, in the deep shadow at the back of the cupboard. Crouching down, she uses her phone’s flashlight to peer into the dusty darkness and sees two eyes shining back at her, over a small face. She blinks, and it is gone. She shoots to her feet, clutching the box of pins to her chest. The task at hand momentarily forgotten, she drifts back to the lab bench. Her jaw is clenched and she feels a strange sense of deja vu. Dropping the pins at her work station, she grabs her laptop and after reading through a few documents, she is sure. That night, after finishing her work, she leaves out a small bowl of milk and some bits of candied insect next to the far cupboard. Then, she locks up and leaves.

The next day, the dishes are empty and clean, lying face down in the drying rack by the lab sink.

From then on out, she always makes sure to leave out a snack near the cupboard. At first, the other students give her odd looks. Soon, however, they all realize that the lab is never out of any materials, no matter how rare or expensive they might be. Where once there was rot among their older specimens and field equipment was constantly in need of repair, now everything is in tip-top shape. Soon, they are all leaving offerings, and their collective research reaches new heights.

And so it goes for her freshman year. She quickly becomes the best technician the lab has seen in quite some time. When anyone comments on this, though, she just smirks and shakes her head, and says, “Don’t give me brownie points for that. I have a lot of help.” And so she may, but in less than a year she has mastered not only the specimen preparation techniques  but also the most finicky pieces of equipment. And so, as the end of the year approaches, Dr. Ronan approaches her with the offer of a fieldwork position over the summer. Of course, she enthusiastically says yes, and that night, she makes sure to leave out a particularly large piece of peanut brittle.

Her first day in the field. They are up early, so early that the sun has not yet risen. Birds rise early, so to observe them at their most active, she must rise even earlier. The site is owned by the university, has been owned by them for a very long time. With her is the most experienced grad student, Mariana. As they leave the truck and don their field equipment (she can already tell that her hip waders are going to be miserable when the sun and temperature rises), Mariana, previously a tad too chipper for the early hour, grown quiet. Mariana watches her as she puts on sunscreen, and then says, extremely seriously, “Focus on the task at hand: note what birds you see and hear at each survey point. Be done by 11am. Meet me back here. Don’t wander, and ignore the lights. And whatever you do, do not follow me.”

With that, she strides off to her fieldsite, leaving her alone next to a truck that is already covered in dew.

The marsh is misty. She glances down at her GPS to confirm that she is at the first survey point. And then she stands, letting the sounds of the world waking up flow over her. So many intertwining and clashing songs and calls. Birds, insects, frogs. It’s almost hypnotic. She shakes her head. The birds, they are what she’s here for. 2, 4, 8 species in this spot alone! She notes them all down on her data sheet, and then moves on to the next point. As she wades through the knee-deep, murky water, she thinks she hears something else. A soft, musical giggling in the distance, very different from the buzzing cicadas or the trilling wrens. Remembering what Mariana said, she ignores it, and carries on.

10 survey points at this site. It is 10:45 by the time she finishes, and she hurries back to the truck, to Mariana, dogged by that chime-like giggling.

A month into the field season, and she is feeling the strain. Her eyes are heavy, and she finds it harder and harder to focus on her assigned tasks. She now hears the giggles at every survey point, and has begun to see flashes and shimmers in her peripheral vision. As much as she wants to ignore them, it is becoming more difficult. Mariana, too, is different. Jumpy and nervous, she talks less and less. Soon, they both sit in silence in the truck during their drive to the site. And then, one day, Mariana doesn’t come back to the truck.

She waits for ten minutes, unable to get any signal on her phone and unable to call her on the walkie. She paces, torn between the warnings that Mariana had given on the very first day, and her need to help. Finally, she grabs a tire iron from the back of the truck and heads in the direction Mariana had gone that morning. It takes surprisingly little time to find her. She is waist deep in the muck, unmoving. Staring into the dark trees that line the edge of the marsh.

“Mariana!” She calls, running right up to the edge of the reed bed. Mariana says nothing.

“Mariana, what-,” She cuts herself short, noticing the object of Mariana’s observation: a ball of light, hanging perfectly motionless at the edge of the woods. It pulses in time with the light, melodic laughter. She is almost transfixed. Almost. As she feels her eyes begin to glaze, she feels the tire iron in her grasp, heavy and cold. So cold it feels like it’s burning. She tears her eyes from the glowing ball, and focuses on Mariana.

“Look away from it!” She yells, wading out into the water, sending small waves rolling in front of her. Mariana twitches, as if waking from a deep slumber, “Look away, Mariana! You told me not to follow the lights, remember? Remember??”

Mariana twitches again, and finally turns. She stops in her tracks, instinctively raising the tire iron in front of her. Marianas eyes are black. As if her pupils had grown and swallowed the rest of her eyes. Black, shining holes stare back at her. A faint smile plays on Mariana’s lips.

“It’s easier to listen, to let the light in,” she whispers, and then begins to turn back. Lunging forward, she grabs Marianas arm and pulls her back. In the corner of her eye, she sees the ball of light drifting forward, sees beams of light playing out on the surface of the black water, coming closer. Desperately, she keeps tugging on Marianas arm, but the grad student is stuck fast in the mud, and if she isn’t careful, she will be as well. With another giant heave, she pulls backward, sending herself stumbling, and letting water into her waders. But it worked: Mariana’s legs are now free, though she is still staring at the light. Not daring to look back, she drags Mariana to the shore, and then back to the truck, firmly staring ahead, ignoring the giggling that surrounds them, that drowns out everything else. She gets them both back, and after strapping Mariana into the truck, she drives away. She thinks that she sees a flash of light in one of her mirrors as the marsh fades into the background. Mariana’s eyes seem to clear the farther away they drive. She breathes shallowly and quickly. She should feel fear, but doesn’t. More…a rightness. Like she belonged back there, in the mud. She shakes her head.

After bringing her back to her apartment, she never sees Mariana again.

For the rest of the field season, she is joined by Sumeet, one of the other grad students. She wonders whether she should tell him about what happened, but when she mentions Mariana, he just shakes his head.

“She knew what she was getting into. Even those of us who’ve gotten a degree in the Forbidden Major are always at risk. Best thing to do is just keep your head down, stay on track, and–”

“Don’t follow the light?”

A wry smile, “Yeah.”

They make a good team, she thinks, and they talk more than she and Mariana had. She still hears the laughter off and on, and sees flashes of light in her periphery every day, but she knows now, knows what will happen if she ever gives in and follows. And so she continues with her surveys of the birds, and even helps Sumeet with his work occasionally, assisting in measuring and photographing the various frogs, newts, and snakes he is monitoring.

Two weeks before school is set to start, Sumeet calls in sick, and asks if she can check the fall traps he set up a couple of days before. She readily agrees to, and when she has finished with her usual work, she heads to the other side of the field site to check the fall traps. It is closer to the woods than she likes, and the laughter and lights seem closer than they have in a long time.

The traps are empty. Or so she thinks at first, not noticing the tiny, frail body that is lodged between a stick and some dead leaves. But as she turns to leave, a glimmer catches her eye, and she takes a closer look. It is extremely delicate, like a being spun out of glass, nearly transparent, shimmering with a miasma of different colors. Like an oil sheen, but far more alluring and beautiful. A tiny face, eyes closed, lips parted over impossibly tiny, sharp teeth. Wings like the biggest wasp she’s ever seen. She feels a thrill of familiarity. She quickly and carefully extracts it from the trap and deposits it in a specimen jar. Clearly Sumeet is also studying things other than reptiles and amphibians.

As she walks back to the truck, she briefly turns back to look at the edge of the woods. At first, she thinks the ball of light is back. But no, there are two lights, but smaller, hovering at the same level, 12 feet off the ground. They shift and she realizes this is not what lured Mariana. This is something else. Huge antlers rise above the eyes, and its body is shadowed by the surrounding trees. It stares at her, and she stares back, unblinking. After a minute, it backs into the forest, and she is left covered in goosebumps and sweating profusely.

When she gives Sumeet the specimen she collected, he seems surprised, but quickly hides it. “Didn’t think that the fall traps would work for these,” he says thoughtfully, “You didn’t have any trouble?” She hesitates, “Well, not with checking the traps, or getting that into a jar, but…”

He raises an eyebrow, egging her on.

She shrugs, “There was something I hadn’t seen before, in the woods. It was really tall, eyes like those, uh–,” “Like the wisps?” He asks sharply.

“Yeah, like them. Do you know what it was?” He sighs, “I’ve heard stories, nothing more. The Horned One. Be careful.”

She laughs, “Aren’t I always?”

It is the start of her sophomore year, and she is dreaming. Ever since her encounter with the Horned One, she has been dreaming. Her waking life, classes, work in the lab, is fading into the background. Oh sure, she regails the returning students with tales of the trials and tribulations of fieldwork (the specimen she collected for Sumeet now sits in a place of honor on the middle lab bench, embalmed for eternity in formaldehyde), and she continues to do well in her classes. She even starts seeing someone regularly (she finally recognized that that sweet girl, Tamika, from Physiology, was flirting with her). But all of that starts to bleed together, becoming part of the background, while her dreams begin to fill her reality. Sometimes they are just recreations of that day, when she saw that gigantic horned figure. Sometimes they are dark and violent, images of prone human figures offering bloody sacrifice to an idol of bone, antler, and grass. And sometimes it is just the eyes, staring at her, only the vaguest outlines of a face around it. The eyes, swallowing her.

People start to notice that something is up. Tamika is the first to notice, and the first to respond to it; she says that things are not working out, that she needs some space. And so Tamika leaves her life. The next person to notice is Sumeet.

“Things have changed,” he says, regarding her closely.

She shrugs, focused on the survey data she’s organizing. He sits on a stool next to her.

“It started pretty soon after that day I was sick, didn’t it,” He does not ask this, but states it. He already knows, or at the very least suspects.

“Maybe,” she says, shrugging again. She just needs to get through the next few hours, and then she can sleep again. “You can’t let it in. First it’s dreams, then it’s–,”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she says coldly, and then moves to a different bench.

Sumeet remains where he is, looking at his hands.

That night, the dreams are different, sharper. She is walking through the marsh, the reeds and muddy waters parting around her, not touching her bare skin. She reaches the edge of the forest. She looks up, and it is there. Towering. Staring impassively down. It leans forward, bringing its massive, antlered head closer to her’s. It’s huge white eyes, sunk into a skull-like visage, illuminate her face. Plumes of vapor erupt from its nostrils, and she smells chewed cud and fresh blood.

“Return,” it rumbles, although its mouth does not move. She nods, and then wakes up.

She dresses quickly, forgetting socks in her haste. She slips on boots over bare feet, and slips out of her room. In a few minutes, she is in her car, peeling out of the parking lot and heading towards the field site. Her focus is total. She stares at the road ahead of her, unblinking. When she arrives, she all about falls out of the car, and does not lock it as she hurries towards the edge of the wood. She wades into the marsh, getting deeper and deeper, the water soaking into her sweatpants and light jacket, yet still she pushes forward. At its deepest, the water reaches to the bottom of her chin. She emerges at the treeline, soaked to the bone, covered in mud and dead vegetation, beginning to shiver. She stands there, shaking, waiting. Minutes pass.

And then. A rustle of leaves, the creak of branches parting. And it is there, regarding her with its inscrutable gaze. She stares up at it, and just like in her dream, it leans down. It’s entire being is indescribable. She is filled with fear and excitement, the thrill of confronting something that is so entirely alien. It’s skull-like head and long, matted hair are shadowed under its looming antlers. Once again, it speaks through an unmoving mouth.

“You answered the call. You are the first to do so in a long, long time. Why is this?” Her voice catches in her throat, “I’m not sure. I no longer know what I’m doing.”

It cocks its head, “You seek guidance, then?”

She responds so quickly it comes out as a snap, “No! I-I know what I want, I don’t need advice. I’m just…drifting right now.”

It rears up, opening its mouth, fangs dripping with some foul liquid. A gurgling sound, laughter, flows forth.

“Drifting? You are thus because I made it thus. I put the hunger in you.”

She stamps her foot. It is unwise, she thinks, vaguely, to be acting like this in front of a god, but she is angered, “You didn’t put anything in me. I came because I had to know, not because you drew me hear. You’re old, older than I can really conceive, and that means you’ve seen things, yes?” “I’ve seen many things, but–,” “No, let me finish. I know your name, and you will tell me what I want to know, Cernunnos.”

It bares its fangs at that, “You dare to call me that? Here, in my element?” She smirks, “My element too, big guy.”

She pulls back her hair, revealing her ears. Ears which seems to elongate in the moonlight. She grins, her mouth full of teeth sharper and more numerous than any human’s. The Horned One draws a breath.

“Tell me,” she says, “What do you know of changelings?”

x

#transroadwarrior #stories #long post #beware the field #brownies #BROWNIE POINTS #I love this! #biology majors #sumeet #mariana #the horned one #changelings #cernunnos #the END #submission

[derieri]

Princess of the Light

A Nanatsu no Taizai and Legend of Zelda crossover

Another piece of the NnT + LoZ blend that has been on a back-burner for upwards of a year. This would/will be the opening prologue of the narrative. As I’ve mentioned before, I fully intend to follow through with this idea... at some point. Feedback very welcome!

Prologue

The Princess’ crystal eyes went wide at the sight of the puppet show before her. Cast in the golden, angled light of a late summer afternoon, the silhouette figures seemed to breathe as they danced before a tapestry of greenery and sky. The narrator stepped up beside the puppets’ “stage” to start the tale, gaily dressed in pink and silver feathers meant to represent the goddesses. She slowly looked over the assembled crowd until they silenced; the anticipation in the atmosphere could have been cut open with a knife.

“This is a story of ancient times before the worlds of man and gods became divided forever,” she began. She sang the story in the ancient style, and the puppets followed the contours of her melody.

“Across the land, the seven races thrived: Giants, working metal in the mountain tops; Zora, who guard the river’s run; Druids and their cousin Sheikah; the Fair Folk in the forest with their mystery and mischief. Living in their center were the Humans, humble and devoted. Above all were the Holy Goddesses, the four mightiest of who had made the world. And below them roamed the Demon Clan in their realm of shadow and horror.

“One day, the demons’ King tired of the careful balance, so he tipped the scales toward the night. A great war ensued for the soul of Britannia, and many were slain.

“In the midst of the violence, our blessed goddess declared: ‘This great evil must be defeated.’ She assembled seven individuals from among the clans to wage a fierce battle against the demon king.” On-stage, the puppets charged at one another, brandishing their weapons. Black and purple smoke spewed from the Demon King’s form, while the sages fired back with sparks. The Princess shouted encouragement to the heroes with the other children, but despite that, their attacks grew fewer and smaller, until they altogether stopped. A bolt of fear struck the Princess’ heart. The sages were going to lose!

“All hope seemed lost,” the narrator continued. “Then, the goddess took her blade and cut a hole in the earth. She told the sages: ‘Push the demons in there.’ One by one, the sages sent the monsters into the abyss, until they came to the demon king once more.”

Again the sages faced the King, this time with the glowing white form of the goddess beside them. They attacked. Bit by bit, they fought the Demon King backward, until he stumbled into the gorge with a furious yell. The Princess cheered with the other children, and the puppets on-stage began to prance about in celebration.

“The people prepared a victory feast, but the goddess was wise. ‘First, we must keep the demons in their prison,’ she said.

“Using magic never seen before or since that time, she put a mark upon her body and became the seal that trapped the demon clan. With the last of her power, she prophesied to the people there: ‘I have set in motion a great plan. Scatter to the wind, my seven, to await the hero’s spirit and the princess of the light. Only then shall the power of the sages defeat our ancient enemy once and for all.’” The narrator paused for dramatic effect, and the audience held their breath in rapt anticipation.

“For now, no one has ever found one of the members of the prophecy. Some believe that they can only be identified by the princess or the hero, while others say the sages have long died. Let us pray it’s not the latter, else we all might be in trouble when the demon king breaks out again.”

An ominous chuckle echoed from behind the puppet stage, reverberating like it came out of the chasm where the demon clan was sealed. Chills raked up and down the Princess’ spine. More colored smoke coated the stage in black ash clouds edged with firelight red. A shadow appeared in the background, obscured by the thickening smoke. It loomed closer and closer in time with the dark laughter and the thumping of her heart. The Princess’ head swam as the specter of the Demon King grew so large he swallowed the entire stage, and with him a farrago of sights and sounds: clashing blades; the groan of the dying; swathes of land soaked in blood; an abyssal eye that burned with dark flames—images of catastrophic war.

Forceful hands snatched both sides of her ribcage. A terrified cry escaped her lips as they tipped her balance backward to suspend her off the ground, breathless and unable to escape the crushing grip. She thrashed against the air. She already knew their hold on her was too strong for her to break, but maybe, maybe she could–

“Elizabeth! Elizabeth!”

The stern almost-shout of her nanny splashed over Princess Elizabeth’s panic like a pitcher-full of ice water, stilling her. She realized that she could see again as if she hadn’t before. Suddenly confused and exhausted, she lay still on the ground and let her eyes travel over the scenery around her. Nanny’s face was close to hers, and around her in a ring were the faces of the half-a-dozen children she had watched the puppet show with. More adults looked down on her from up above the children.

“Nanny? Nanny, why am I on the ground?” She could not read the expression on Nanny’s face. Was that gladness, or anger? Or, perhaps—what were those new words she learned in lessons?—Nanny was irritated or relieved.

She didn’t speak or resist as Nanny shooed the villagers away from them, bundled Elizabeth up in her arms, and set off in the direction of the castle. When they passed the inner gate into the courtyard, Nanny set her down on the staircase. She stood back from the Princess by a step and put her hands upon her hips.

“Princess! You know that you are not to run around the village without supervision!” she scolded.

Elizabeth flinched and turned her eyes toward her dirty palms in shame.

“I’m sorry, Nanny. I heard some boys talking about the storyteller that was coming, and I wanted to go see it. I should have asked you to come with me. I’m sorry.”

Nanny huffed. Elizabeth did not look back up at her but blinked away a tear. It crawled along her cheek, down her nose, and then it dropped onto her wrist with a tiny splat. Nanny huffed again, and then the Princess found herself enveloped in her warm, soft arms.

“It’s alright, dear, no need to weep about it. You must keep in mind, though, that you’re a fragile girl. Now, besides the end that spooked you, how did you like the story? You went to all the trouble of getting to it, after all.”

“Oh, I loved it!” She looked up and clasped her hands together, damp cheek forgotten as she relayed the story and the prophecy about the princess of the light. “Sometimes princesses are named after the goddess, aren’t they? That’s where my name comes from.”

Nanny shook her head. “No, that family name just comes from an important great-great-grandmother in your family. The myth is all a lot of nonsense, made up.”

“But Papa tells me stories about the seven Sages all the time! He says they promised they would help the rulers of Liones if we needed them a lot sometime!” Nanny only frowned again.

“I will talk to His Majesty about this. I’m responsible for your education, and filling you with nonsense such as this won’t teach you to separate fact from fiction later on. Now go along, go ahead and play with the elder princesses.

“Yes, Nanny.”

“Take it easy, though, since that story made you so overexcited.”

“Yes, Nanny.”

Elizabeth scampered off to find her big sisters, and she obediently tried to put the goddess and her sages as far from her mind as possible. Her father ceased to tell her stories of the legends. Soon, her lessons increased in length and difficulty, and her childhood free time began to fill with other pursuits. It should have been easy to move on.

Despite all of this, however, she never managed to forget the goddess’ prophecy. It haunted her dreams and sometimes moments of her waking hours. She couldn’t say why, other than to guess that deep within her, in her innermost being, some part of her knew that it was true.

#princess of the light #nanatsu no taizai #my stuff #my fanfiction #fic: princess of the light #elizabeth liones

[ao3-hipster-fangirl-trash]

pass the happy! 💛 when you get this, reply with 5 things that make you happy and send this to the last 10 people in your notifications

5 things that make me happy

The forests in spring, when its still cold and the air bites on your cheeks, but there’s greenery going through. Not like in summer when there’s humidity and heat, but in the gentle green canopy, there’s a swift breeze and clear air that makes you want to breath as deeply as possible, the way the trees sway and you feel the animals around you, even if you can’t see them. the way you can gaze at one tree for hours and be able to notice something new about it every time you look at it. walking through old muddy puddles, finding hidden places, hideaways which are only for you and you alone. the world doesn’t need to know what you’ve found, just the springtime forest. How it has moments of light then dark, and then moments of sun through the trees, or when it starts raining and you can year gentle splashes in the leaves.

Rain, rain makes me happy. small rain which patters gently, telling you that it’s there, but not bothering you, a simple kiss from a water droplet on your forehead or on your nose. then the big rain, pouring rain. rain which hammers against the roof and makes trees shudder and people run. the kind of rain which drenches everything and makes it hard to see, the kind of rain that you fall asleep to or read to, because it s a nice calming background noise. Rain which floods the streets and leaves the smell everywhere, because somehow there is a smell of rain. it leaves the air crisp and clean, it leaves the streets as rivers and reminds people of what nature can do.

My grandparents house in the massif central mountain range in France. Where i used to go every summer and enjoy the quiet of it. the beautiful garden with rosemary and lavender and sage and thyme, and plumbs. the dirt road to the forest where we would walk down and see black berries and plumb trees, and we would pick the fruit and giggle, sweet and natural fruit which we found. How they had a collection of comic books which i would sit engrossed in as they started a fire, how i would see my cousins there and it wasn’t just their house, it was the house. the meetup house where people who hadn’t seen each other in years could say hello. the postman would come in every Saturday for an expresso because thats just what they did. there were rivers everywhere and we would walk down to them through forests and dirt roads and crisp air and bird noises. we would see a train on a nearby mountain, the smoke rising up from it in plumes. the memories from childhood once lost which are ingrained in the old wood. the toys which once belonged to my parents and aunts and uncles which i played with as they did. learning and speaking french with people around. neighbours of theirs who would invite me around for dinner because that was simply what we would do. we would talk. the nights where you could go and sit in the garden and watch the endless stars in the pitch black night, untouched by light pollution where you could see the endless twinkles of light. the horror storied from my uncle who said the nearby graveyard was haunted, turning the lights off of the car in the middle of the night, and expecting someone to be standing in front of it when we turned them back on.

Tired. that feeling of half asleep when your eyes are beginning to close and you’re starting to imagine whats real or what’s not real. when flashes of images and ideas come into your head, but as soon as you try and grab them they’re gone, leaving you awake and confused again. the moments when dreams and reality blur, anything which did happen could be a dream. they way you start making up stories in your mind, thinking that maybe if you create a world you’ll dream in it. coming up with characters and people who help you lull yourself into slumber only to be forgotten the next day.

Stars. The millions of stars in the sky who hold themselves in a steady course, hurtling around the solar system at millions of miles an hour and yet slow down for us to see. the way they shine and sparkle in complete darkness, whole constellations making themselves apparent to us. their billion year lifespans seem to be nothing but a dream, something unattainable yet absolutely beautiful to anyone who can understand it. the moon, which so many have gazed upon, famous musicians who were inspired by her beauty within the midnight sky, writers who want so desperately to capture her aura, artists, who look up and see true inspiration. me, who wouldn’t sleep till i told her goodnight as a child. the wonderful sight of the sky, showing us how insignificant and small we are in the grand scheme thing, and yet doing in in a beautiful way, in a dance of life and death with great gas giants and the black holes they are destined to become. the way in which we understand so little and yet wish to know so much, however we are unable to comprehend the sheer vastness. the insane questions which we begin to ask ourselves because of the diamonds which glint at us every night.

These are the things that make me happiest

#ask #answer #things that make me happy #anon #about me

[imagine-loki]

Hail to the King

TITLE: Hail to the King CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Ch. 1- Children Will Be Children AUTHOR: artemisnightingale216 ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine Thor and Loki have a younger sister, Astrid, who was not much younger than Loki. Growing up, she was always very close to both her brothers, acting as a catalyst that kept them together even through tough times, though she typically stayed close to Loki’s side. Though it went against Frigga’s wishes, she even trained alongside them and raised as a warrior as well as a lady… RATING: M for Mature and Adult Themes NOTES/WARNINGS: Super duper happy with the feedback in such a short amount of time once again! Thank you to all of you that read it! Much appreciated! If you did not have the chance to read the Prologue to Hail to the King, I will be putting that link down below. Now, once again, as it is based off a Marvel movie, there will be violence; I don’t intend to put in much in this chapter as I plan to gradually build us up from the children’s childhoods all the way up to the first Thor and then on because I find it a bit unfair that we see very little about their lives before then aside from a few short scenes. Plus, we do need a bit of background on my OC. So, let us begin!

EDIT: Sorry this took so long! I got started on it and then busy with everything else that could go wrong in my life. Anyway, please enjoy and let me know what you think!

Link to Prologue

Song for the Chapter- Under One Sky by The Tenors

“Buona. Ora preparatevi. Il rituale è pronto per iniziare.”

The three of them circled around Unna and raised their hands palms up so they were facing the sky. She did not know what they had planned, but she knew it would not end well for her or her child.

“I think it best if we end our story there, my lieges,” a man said, his body clad in a great suite of gold and dark red armor with a sword nearly as big as he was clasped between his hands, the blade of said sword inserted deep in a raised dais, his dark skin a contrast to his golden armor and eyes; a helm sat atop his head, looking very much like a giant bird caught in mid-flight. The dais sat in the center of a high ceilinged dome, its interior and exterior matching his attire, an ever spinning spire circling around its top and appearing every few minutes in front of and behind him in the openings, one leading out to a dead drop and the other leading to the bridge outside. His voice, deep and soothing, sounded strange now that he was not speaking in a foreign tongue.

“What? No! It was just getting good! Do not leave it there!” a young boy, round in the face and a bit chubby, pleaded from where he sat on the steps leading down into the dome. He was small in comparison to the might of the man on the dais, but he still had time to grow. Instead of armor, he donned a simple light blue tunic, dark blue and red up the front vest with a red belt around his thin waist, and dark blue pants with the legs tucked into his brown boots. Brown cuff like bracelets were tied to his wrists and red fabric had been added to his boots to look like lacing.

“Forgive my impertinence, but I do not think it wise to tell the remainder to children so young. Perhaps when you are all older, we can revisit this story again,” the man clad in gold and dark red smiled slightly, the action partially hidden by his neatly trimmed beard.

“Then what was the point in starting it, Heimdall?” the young boy asked, his bright blue eyes conveying disappointment as he placed his chin in his palm and his elbow on his knee.

“You asked for a story, my prince, and I did not think you would appreciate one about happy forest elves. Besides, there are no real endings. There are only the places where you stop the story,” Heimdall chuckled lightly. “On top of that, your sister does not seem as fond of the story as you do.”

The young blue eyed boy looked behind him to the small child in a short sleeved white dress, the hem trailing to the floor, that was simple but fit for royalty, her long platinum blonde almost white hair pulled back from her face to half divide the shoulder length strands in a braid. She clung to the sleeve of his tunic and only one of her ice blue eyes, slightly wide with fear, were visible from behind his body where she hid. “She can handle it. Go on, Astrid. Tell him you can handle it.” He tried to coax her out from behind him on the steps, but she only tried to hide herself further.

“Let her be, Thor,” the dark haired boy sitting next to the blue eyed lad said in aggravation at his brothers insistent coaxing. His attire was very similar to that of Thor’s, but where his older wore blue and red, he wore grey and green. “If she does not want to hear the rest of the story, do not make her.”

“What troubles you, Loki? Too frightened to hear the rest yourself so you use a little girl as a shield?” Thor taunted, turning away from Astrid to shove at Loki’s shoulder. Loki nearly fell from the steps due to the force of the playful shove but righted himself before he could; his dark green eyes shown in low the low light of the dome, anger blazing in his irises as he was about to retort when Thor’s neatly trimmed and once formally styled blonde hair was suddenly pulled with such force that it drew his head back. “Ow! Astrid, you traitor!”

Astrid giggled happily as she leapt from her seat on the steps and darted away from Thor as he turned to grab her. She was past Loki, down the stairs, and around the perimeter of the dome by the time Thor stood to give chase. She was tiny compared to her brothers, especially to Loki who had a good inch or two over Thor, but she found she could be quick if she tried hard enough. She giggled again as Thor ran after her and she ran as well, trying to look for a place to hide as she went but quickly finding that there were very limited options. There was Heimdall, his great height and build sure to hide her tiny body, but surely her brother would see her. Then there was Loki, tall enough to hide her height but too slender even with her small frame. It seemed her only hope was to make it across the Rainbow Bridge before he could catch her, but that was a long shot even with speed on her side, the bridge much too extensive for a child. Even some of the warriors had to ride on horseback just to make it quickly across the great distance.

Astrid was nearing the steps to the entrance and decided to throw caution to the wind. She gracefully leaped over the steps, her dress flowing behind her as she did, and easily landed on the flat surface of the polished marble. Loki was clearly in awe of her display and cheered her on as she passed him while Heimdall smirked and remained standing on the dais with his hands ever on the hilt of his great golden sword.

“Come back and face me, you coward!” Thor called after her as he shook his fist and bounded up the stairs. Loki pulled a mischievous smile as he stuck his foot out and tripped him. Thor fell face first onto the polished floor, leaving a large spot of saliva where his lips made contact. Loki laughed and jumped up to follow after Astrid as their brother wiped the spittle from his face. “You will come to regret that, brother! Just wait until I get my hands on you both!” He jumped back up and rushed after both his younger siblings.

“And that is why I am forever grateful to my mother for not having more than one child,” Heimdall laughed to himself, glad the rambunctious young ones had found a distraction and forgotten the dark tale he had weaved for them.

“Face your fates, milksops! Prepare to feel the wrath of the future king of Asgard!” Thor yelled after them as they raced down the Rainbow Bridge, the bridge lighting up beneath where their feet connected with it.

The Rainbow Bridge, named for the bright colors embedded in the very material it was made from, was designed after a suspension bridge and was as old as Asgard itself. The bridge was hung high above an ever flowing sea so clear one could look down and see nearly see the bottom, the water eventually dropping off into the remaining other realms in the form of a magnificent waterfall; sometimes the sea was calm, but other times it was a tempest that most dared not venture into. At one end were the gates to Asgard, the realm eternal, a prosperous glittering city of gold surrounded by the sea and lush greenery. On the other was the dome, more commonly known as the entrance to the Bifrost, in which Heimdall stood on his dais; the Bifrost acted as a link from Asgard to the other realms and Heimdall its keeper, no one as of late getting in or out without his knowledge. Heimdall had watched over Asgard and the other realms for as long as anyone could remember, a puzzle no one had yet thought to solve.

Loki laughed humorously as he leapt onto one of pillars connected to the support beams that held up the bridge and used his momentum to swing himself around so he was facing Thor, his hand wrapped around the thin pillar and his foot braced against it to keep himself from slipping, Astrid having to stop and turn back when she realized he was no longer at her side. “In your wildest dreams, brother! I will be king of Asgard!”

Thor laughed boisterously in return and leapt onto the pillar as well, standing so he was on the opposite side as Loki. “I do not need to dream of reality! One day I shall sit where Father does and command the Nine Realms as I see fit!”

The two always seemed to argue when the throne of Asgard was concerned, but it was all just friendly banter. They were too young to truly understand the weight of what it meant to be king, but even so both Thor and Loki found themselves in competition for it. Being the two sons in the family, that meant one day one of them would be chosen and given the crown. The only question that remained on their minds, however, was which one it would be as their father had repeatedly told them both they were destined to be kings but only one of them could rule. It seemed unfair to Astrid, but she would likely either be married off to the prince of another realm and become a queen herself or wed to a high standing member of the court, as were traditions in their realm.

Loki smirked at Thor. “We shall see.”

“Astrid, do tell our ill-minded brother who will be king when the time comes. Me,” Thor pointed to himself, “or him,” he gestured toward Loki.

“Oh, yes, dear sister. Please do,” Loki nodded. “Tell our feeble-minded sibling whom will be king.”

Astrid looked back and forth between her two brothers with heavy thoughts burdening her expression. As far as her developing mind could discern, they might has well have asked her to decide then and there who was getting the crown rather than their father. On the one hand, there was Thor, the eldest son and already gifted in the arts of combat. On the other was Loki, though smaller in size but not height, he instead excelled when it came to the academics but was still a worthy foe when it came to battle. Both had much to learn for either of them to become king, however.

“Why did we bother asking her? She is not even old enough to sit at the table with us when we eat. How can she even know which of us to pick?” Thor rolled his eyes when it took too long for her to answer. Astrid looked down in guilt; she really had tried, but she knew no matter who she chose it would only hurt the other one’s feelings.

“Would you at least give her time? Not everything needs to happen when you say it does,” Loki glared at Thor. Astrid smiled, feeling a bit better knowing that at least one of her brothers did not find her inadequate.

“It will when I am king,” Thor smirked. Astrid and Loki rolled their eyes; it was like talking to a brick wall when he was around. Astrid looked out over the unconfined sea and onto the horizon where the sun shone brightly high in the sky, sending its warm rays down before it began its slow descent. She easily judged the time and rushed over to Thor. She tugged on his pant leg as he and Loki continued their little spat from where they still stood on the pillar.

“Honestly, Thor, must you be so thickheaded? How can you ever hope to rule when you fail to see reason,” Loki was saying as he turned around on the pillar so he was facing back toward the dome.

“One hardly needs reason to rule. Ruling means having an iron fist so the other realms will learn to fear you and a strong will to avoid temptation,” Thor scoffed in reply as he shoved at Loki and tried to swat Astrid off of him as she started patting at his leg hurriedly.

Loki righted himself before he could fall from the pillar and possibly the bridge. “If that were the case, then surely you would fail.”

“Say what you will, but it only makes sense for me to be king because-.” Thor looked down at Astrid in question as her tugs became more desperate. “What?” She pointed toward the sky and he followed her direction, squinting at the giant ball of fire and seeing spots before his vision when he looked back. “What? It is just the sun.” She jumped up and down, waving her arm in urgent motions. “Out with it, girl! What are you on about?” She grunted in annoyance and stomped her feet. “It appears our sister has gone mad.”

Loki raised his own brow in question at his younger sisters display before looking up at the sky to see what the commotion was about. He gasped. “It is already mid-day! We will be late for the family portrait if we do not hurry!”

“And Mother is still sore with us for missing the last one! Who knows what she will do this time?” Thor said worriedly as he rubbed his knuckles at the memory of their previous punishment. “Hurry! Back to the castle!” He jumped down from the pillar and resumed running across the bridge, Astrid and Loki following close behind. “Good thing I remembered the portrait, right?”

Astrid growled in agitation while Loki shook his head. It was a habit of Thors to take other people’s ideas and act like they were his own. It was a habit they hoped he would one day break and some day soon. Their father claimed it was a worthy trait of a ruler, the ability to take an idea for oneself, but their mother called it the mark of narcissist. The poor children were horribly confused and not sure what to call it at that point, but of course Thor was quick to agree with their father.

“Worry not, sister. We will get him back,” Loki said quietly to Astrid. She tilted her head at him. “Just leave it to me.” He winked and smiled playfully at her, making her giggle.

“If you two are done acting like infant girls, I am going to beat you both to our horses!” Thor called out behind over his shoulder. “I will even beat you with one arm behind my back!”

“Running does not even require both arms!” Loki called ahead just before he and Astrid passed him.

“Hey, no fair! Come back!” Thor pouted.

Astrid laughed in delight as she kept pace with Loki, her long braided hair thumping against her back while his once sleek style coming out of place. Her long dress should have gotten in the way, but she had mastered moving quickly in the flowing garbs. He had a slight advantage over her in pants and boots, but even that did not give him the upper hand. He found himself evenly matched with her speed if not slightly behind.

“Come on, Astrid! You need to do better than that! I am going to win!” Loki smiled, his long but thin legs pumping with ferocity. Astrid humphed in reply before working her tiny little legs and feet faster as she pumped her arms in time, her back straightening so it was horizontal with the ground; she had seen the great warriors do the same during tournaments and had been practicing ever since. “Huh?” He was surprised to see her leave his peripheral vision and instead shoot forward with great momentum. “How did you even do that?” She expected him to pout like Thor had, but instead she heard him call out, “Go, Astrid! Go!” She looked back and realized why.

Thor was coming up fast beside Loki, huffing and puffing and pumping his limbs faster than either of them thought possible. His face was turning red from the exertion and his eye were wide in their sockets from the strain he was putting on himself. Any hope he once had of keeping his hair neat for the portrait was long gone by now as it whipped about his face and behind him. “I… am… going… to… catch… you!” Even his voice sounded hoarse and strained.

“Come on, Astrid! You can do it!” Loki called as Thor passed him. “Run, Astrid! Run harder than you ever have before!” Astrid smiled back at him and nodded before facing forward again.

“Do not… root for… the girl!” Thor nearly wheezed. Astrid could hear him just behind her now, his boots heavy against the glass like material that made up the floor of the bridge, the lights sparking beneath their feet barely able to keep up with their quick strides. “Here I come! You are going to… lose! Prepare to taste defeat!” She could hear his laughter despite his strained breathing and decided she had had enough. “Victory is mine!”

Astrid smirked as she saw Thor step into sight just before she leaned forward and was no long by his side. Thor looked around in shock, thinking for just a second that he had actually passed her, until he looked forward and saw her standing by the horses, her hand gripping the saddle as she tried to catch her breath. “What!?” he shouted in exasperation as he too reached the specially bred animals.

“Ha! You were beaten! And by our little sister, too!” Loki laughed as he joined them.

Thor’s face turned even redder than before. “Yeah… well… So were you!”

“This fact does not hurt my ego,” Loki continued to laugh, having to hold his side. “Good job, Astrid. You made Thor eat your dust!” Astrid smiled at the praise and hummed in happiness.

Thor clicked his tongue. “She just got lucky, is all. Plus, the sun was in my eyes!”

“Uh-huh. Sure it was,” Loki rolled his eyes with a smile. “Oh no! The sun! We really will be late now if we do not hurry!” Astrid and Thor looked worried now. “Hurry! We have to get back to the castle before Mother finds out!” They rushed up to their designated horse and mounted it with haste.

Each child rode a horse that fairly matched their own physical appearances with harnesses and saddles that went with their attire. Thor, of course, rode a golden stallion with a stark white mane and tail; the only problem was that the horse was as chubby as its rider and the combined weight of the two slowed them down fairly often. Loki’s own horse was a cross breed between a friesian and a hackney, the end result being a colt that looked rather skinny and frail, with a coat, mane, and tail that was just as black as the child on its back. The foal for Astrid, however, was a hard one to find as she was so small; rather than a horse that matched her, she had to settle with the foal of a welsh pony or be forced to ride with her mother on outings because it was the only type the queen would agree to. It had upset Astrid, of course, to be given such a smaller riding companion, but a pony was better than nothing and she kept her tongue.

Thor shouted, “Yah!” to his his stallion and off it went running. Loki gave his two gentle kicks to the side and he followed after. Astrid simply clicked her tongue and the pony trotted along; unlike her rider, the small animal wasn’t very fast, though it did try to keep up with the two larger foals. Thor and Loki had to keep stopping there horse when they saw how far behind the two were and wait for them only to have to do so again not too long after.

“Can you not make that pipsqueak go any faster? Mother is going to wring our necks as it is,” Thor groaned after the fifth time his sister caught up. Astrid looked down in guilt and he felt a stab of remorse. “Well, we at least need to find a way back home faster. One that will at least not get us into as much trouble.”

The three children thought long and hard, but it was Loki who quickly came up with a quick and easy plan. “I know a way.” Thor and Astrid looked happy, but after having followed him to this quick route, they realized their mistake. His way had them galloping straight through the city square, which was bustling with people walking to and fro around the market to do their shopping for their masters and families. There was little harm a pony could do; the little filly simply avoided the carts and stands or ducked under them. The colts had no idea what to do around so many foreign objects and various amounts of people, so they stumbled about like newborns and would run off again when they knocked something over.

“This was a terrible idea!” Thor called over the shrieking commoners and his horse neighing in protest.

“I think it was a perfect idea!” Loki said in merriment as his colt somehow managed to jump over some crates of vegetables and keep running.

“Why did we ever listen to you?” Thor wondered. He nearly fell from his foal when it had to side step around a woman carrying a large basket, but he was able to right himself by wrapping his arms around its neck and holding on tightly.

“Because my ideas do not end in disaster like yours do,” Loki laughed as Thor came up beside him. Astrid tried to get their attention, but they were unable to see her in time before they went crashing into a stall.

Frigga stood before her three children with a look of irritation on her face, her foot tapping against the floor as she stared them down. She had hardly asked much of them; it was simple enough for children to keep themselves clean for one afternoon and show up in time to meet with the painter so they could have a new family portrait taken. It seemed, however, that her children were against keeping out of trouble.

She had been pacing in the small room they had designated for the portrait, trying her best to wait patiently, but it was past time the children were due to arrive and the servants were having no luck finding them in the palace. She knew they had snuck off even after she asked them not to, but she understood the curiosity of a child and had decided to allow them a bit of time to be late. The more time passed, however, the more her patience ran thin. Her husband had already had to excuse himself to attend his duties and would likely not return even if she asked for him, so there was no hope of him being with them for it. There was only so long she could keep the painter there; it was for the royal family, so they were top priority, but even he had other things to do than wait around and do nothing.

Worry had just started to set in when there was a knock at the door and a guard walked in. She immediately feared the worst until he stepped aside and she saw them standing in the doorway. Her relief was quickly replaced with shock when she saw the state they were and then switched to her current emotion when the guard explained what they had been doing before being dismissed.

After crashing into a stall, Thor and Loki had fallen into a chicken coop and landed in a puddle of mud. They were now covered in the brown filth and feathers were stuck all over their bodies, like someone had tried to turn them into birds. Perhaps it was best Odin had left the room, otherwise he would already be yelling at them, but only be halfway through. Astrid had somehow managed to make it out of the ordeal without a speck of dirt on her; the only blemish she had was windblown hair, but she wasn’t helping the situation by picking feathers off her brothers and blowing them into the air to see how far she could make them fly.

Frigga sighed and asked, “Well, do we have anything to say for ourselves?”

Loki and Thor glanced at each other before the later of the two shrugged and said with a trying smile, “You look lovely today, Mother?”

It was certainly not a lie. Their mother did look lovely, but then again, she always did.

Frigga was a tall, statuesque woman with an hourglass figure, her hips wider than her chest. She had once been thin, but raising three children could make anyone gain a bit of weight; she had still managed to keep most of her figure, though. Her hair, a dark golden color, was long enough that it fell well past her ribs and took her handmaidens a great deal of time to style it. For that occasion, they had given her a thick ring of curls, parted to the left, that thickened as it came around to meet at the back of her head while the rest had been left straight and placed over her right shoulder. She wore a long sleeved slightly off the shoulder dress that touched the floor, the color a beautiful light silver, with the front half split down the middle to reveal the layer underneath and flow behind her like a cap. Four strands of jewels had been sown onto the bands around her shoulders and her earrings were a shimmering topaz that matched her hair. Her eyes were a stunning hazel that shown stern but gentle in the light.

Frigga hardly seemed impressed by the complement. “Anything else?”

Loki and Thor sighed. “We are sorry, Mother.”

Frigga looked at them a moment before their guilt ridden expressions got to her and made her sigh as well. “I suppose I cannot really blame you for trying to make it here on time, even if you did break the rules about taking your horses into the city.” She dismissed the painter and told him she would be in contact to reschedule once again. “Just promise me it will not happen again and we can forget this happened for now.”

All three of them nodded before Loki asked, “Are you going to tell Father?”

“Well, that would hardly be forgetting about it, would it not?” Frigga raised a brow, smiling as they had a quiet celebration. “Now, you two go and get that mud off you. You have your training exercises starting shortly.”

“Thank you, Mother!” Thor and Loki smiled as they turned and ran out the door.

Astrid tried to follow after them, but Frigga quickly picked her up and held her in her arms. “Not you, young lady. There is a different set of exercises you will be doing.”

“Why?” Astrid asked as she was carried out of the room.

“Because ladies of the court do not engage in activities involving weapons, dear,” Frigga explained.

“Why?” Astrid asked again.

“Because weapons are not a tool a lady should use,” Frigga went on.

“Why?”

“Astrid, darling,” Frigga sighed as they entered one of the smaller libraries in the castle and she set her daughter down in a chair at the table, kneeling so she could face her better, “I know you love to spend time with your brothers, but there are things men do and things that women do. Men protect the homes and go off to war. Women study, learn, and take care of the children.” She made a sour face. “I know it may not seem fair now, but one day you will understand. Women are simply not meant to fight.”

“Then maybe I do not want to be a woman,” Astrid crossed her arms stubbornly.

“Alright. Well, until the day you are fully grown, you are still considered a child, so you still have to do as I say,” Frigga said just as stubbornly before standing and walking over to a bookshelf. “One day you will thank me for this.”

“I will take your word for it,” Astrid grumbled under her breath as her mother came back and placed a stack of books in front of her.

“Now, you are not to leave this table until each book has been read. I will be back to check on you later,” Frigga said sternly as she turned to leave. She looked back to see her daughter regarding the books with a look of boredom. “Study, Astrid.”

Doing as she was told, Astrid sighed and took the first book from the stack. The books were hardly thick; they were were no bigger than the width of two of her fingers, but to a child, it was like her mother expected her to read the entire library. It was rather boring, at first, reading a book on the history of the realms, but the more she read the more she wanted to know. It was interesting to learn how reacted to a situation compared to another, how they held court, or how some had no court at all. In some realms, they were ruled not by monarchs, but on justice and diplomacy alone. There were even realms that had no armies, believing that some matters were best handled with peace and understanding.

It felt as if barely any time had passed before she was done and on to the next book. Its pages were filled with texts on proper etiquette, dining, and dance. She was sure she would be bored of that quickly, but found it interesting that it was considered rude to refuse mead, yet one should drink it in moderation, and at a formal dance, the host and his children have the first choice of dance partners. The pictures of the dance moves and the words describing how they were executed had her performing the steps with a smile on her face.

Then came a book about the creatures that roamed the lands of Asgard. Trolls, wargs, and arvaks were things she was familiar with, but there were some that sent chills down her spine. Draugr were beings said to have come back from the dead while still in their grave; they mostly just protected any treasure that was buried with their corpses and could die once again after decaying, being burned, or otherwise destroyed, but she had no intention of crossing paths with one anytime soon. The Nökken was a being who could change his shape and would use his ability to lure people into the water and drown them; he also had a nasty habit of peering his eyes out of the water and watching people as they passed by. It was creature that typically lived in freshwater, and she made sure to make a mental note to keep a sharp eye out for peering eyes the next time they visited the lake. The Mara appeared as a skinny young woman, dressed in a nightgown, with pale skin and long black hair and nails. As sand they could slip through the slightest crack in the wood of a wall and terrorize the sleeping by “riding” on their chest, thus giving them nightmares; they would sometimes ride cattle that, when touched by the Mara, would have their hair or fur tangled and energy drained, while trees would curl up and wilt. She tried not to dwell on that book for too long.

Astrid began to realize that her mother had been right. Before long, she had finished the stack and was already moving on to new ones. She scanned shelf after shelf, trying to find any book she might enjoy that she could get her hands on.

When Frigga returned some hours later with one of her handmaidens trailing behind her, they found the table piled with books but her daughter gone. “Astrid?” she called in worry when she looked around the room and still could not see her.

“I am over here, Mother,” Astrid called back.

Frigga felt immediate relief as she walked behind one of the shelves to find Astrid wedges between it and another, even more books surrounding her as her eyes scanned quickly but deftly over the pages. “And what do we have here?”

“I found a book on stars, Mother. Did you know that there was once one so big, that it imploded on itself after only a few hundred years after its creation and took three other stars with it?” Astrid asked as she spoke but kept her eyes on the words.

“I did not,” Frigga shook her head with a slight smile. “I see someone found a new passion today.”

“Perhaps,” Astrid shrugged, not wanting to outright admit that her mother was right.

“Enough reading for today, darling. It is time for supper,” Frigga gestured toward the door with her hand.

Astrid looked up sadly. “But I have not finished yet.”

“You can come back tomorrow, if you like,” Frigga suggested. “You will be able to read as much as you want then.” Astrid smiled and nodded as she closed her book and placed it on the floor before running up to her mother’s waiting hand. She instructed her handmaiden to replace the scattered reading material in its proper place and led the young child toward the mess hall, grateful she had found something to distract her from the idea of learning how to fight, unaware that there were in fact book on martial arts in the library.

#Loki #God of Mischief #Others #Hail to the King #Imagine #Submitted fic #submission #artemisnightingale216 #chapter 1 #younger sister #astrid #close #brothers #catalyst #thor #warrior #frigga #lady #sif #warriors three #library #gardens #mischief #odin #sworn #alligence

[willandlyra]

nothings gonna change my world

in which will meets nico’s sisters

word count: 1764

read on ao3

::

It goes better than Will had planned.

Will, despite being fully informed of Hazel Levesque's sweet demeanour, had still been expecting a shovel talk. Especially after talking to Leo.

("You should have seen her after my visit to New Rome," he'd said, letting out a whistle. "Girl hits hard."

"Leo," Nico had cut in, boredly. "You faked your death for six months."

"I didn't mean to!)

Especially after knowing that for all of being thirteen and whisked into the century from another world altogether, she was one of The Seven, she'd taken down Gaea. She'd probably saved Percy Jackson's ass at least twice, and she could make sweet of animals who'd injure any pleasant enough veterinarian.

However, Hazel does not start by pinning him up against the wall (hey, Nico doesn't look that strong either, and he could hand Will's ass to him on a platter any day that he liked) and looking him in the eye with an icy glare, threatening his future children in more than one way.

Will is not greeted with shovel talks or glowers, or even an intimidating comment made when Nico isn't looking.

When Hazel Levesque sees Will Solace for the first time, fiddling with his thumbs behind his back while awkwardly shadowing her older brother, she hugs him. Literally, she runs across the grass and open space, nearly knocks over two or three Demeter campers who are just trying to water some plants, and entangles him in a bone-crushing hug before she even looks at Nico.

All the breath is knocked out of her lungs.

"Hazel," Nico says, and he doesn't sound remotely surprised.

Eventually, Hazel untangles herself from Will, steps back a little. She looks right at him, catches his gaze (even though she is significantly shorter - she and Nico have that in common) and beams.

"I've heard so much about you!" she gushes, and Nico groans.

"Hazel."

"Shh, Nico," Hazel says. And then, seemingly remembering that she hasn't seen her brother face to face in weeks, she flings herself into his arms and hugs him in a way that not even Jason Grace could get away with. "I've missed you so much!"

Nico laughs. "Yeah, yeah," he says. He sounds a little uncomfortable, but mostly he sounds happy and Will thinks that happy is a great look on him.

Nico catches Will's eye behind his sister's mass of curls.

"At least she hasn't got any baby photos," he sighs.

::

Reyna, in fact, does give Will a shovel talk.

At least, he thinks she did - the whole experience was kind of strange and rushed and over in a flash. Her and Nico have a weird seeming relationship, he supposes, but only on the surface.

Minutes later, she's barely conscious of his existence, because she's so caught up in the smile she's got aimed at Nico and the stories he's telling her.

Reyna had not greeted Will with a hug. She had, thankfully, greeted him alone and not with an army behind her or two terrifying and giant and glaring silver and gold dogs. Will's pretty sure he might have actually melted into a puddle of fear at that point. Not that Will had expected anything of the sort.

("Reyna's great," Nico had said, one evening in the Hades cabin, starlight streaming through the window.

Will had asked Nico about his family, and Nico liked being able to answer.

"She's not like Hazel," he'd continued. "She's very... closed. She's like me. She's a warrior but she's a sister, and she makes things make more sense."

He's liked her since then.)

But Reyna hadn't gone on the other side of Will's imaginary expectations, either - pinning him up against some cabin and prodding him with flaming torches while Nico rolled his eyes in the background.

It seemed, in hindsight, Will wasn't very good at envisioning hypothetical situations. That said, he was still refusing to go to dinner with Lord Hades and Persephone for fear of death.

("My father is way too busy to actually kill people," Nico scoffed. "He has other people to do that for him.)

"Solace, right?" is what Reyna says when she actually sets two dark eyes on the two of them, having firstly drawn Nico against her and given him a tight but brief hug.

Will shrugs off the urge to salute.

"Yep," he nods. "Uh, Will. Reyna. Preator."

"Reyna's fine," Reyna says, coolly. She reaches out her hand, and Will oblingly takes it in his own and shakes it. "I've heard... a fair bit about you."

"Reyna," Nico says, warningly.

Reyna smirks.

"Not much," she continues. "Nico's as closed off as he's ever been, but he's getting there. The amount I've heard your name in casual conversation when he doesn't realise he's rambling is a good sign in itself..."

Will grins. "Yeah?"

And Reyna smiles, kindly. Softer, like she's seen something she likes on his face or in his eyes. It wouldn't surprise him. Will reads like an open book and most of the words are like gold when it comes to Nico.

Most of them, at least. Shadow travelling not included.

"Yeah," she confirms. "So it's nice to meet you, I'm glad that he has you. Really. You two... look good together."

Nico is blushing a little and Will's smile is stretching out to the far corners of the universe, far surpassing the moon and all the planets and the sun. He breathes out a sigh of relief and it feels like releasing all the winds in the world.

"That said," Reyna's tone changes, dips a little. Not scary or threatening so much as authorative. Kind of like how Apollo sounds when he's telling everyone to quieten down so he can talk about himself. Actually... probably not that, not so much.

Will gulps.

Reyna does not pull out a sword or a javeline or a lightsaber to threaten Will's life. But the intention is there.

"Make my little brother sad and I will have to come at you with the full force of the Roman army, Solace."

Nico rolls his eyes.

"Reyna, seriously."

Reyna smiles again.

This time, Will is unable to stop himself from saluting.

"Noted," he says, and Reyna pats him on the shoulder. And when Will looks back, despite himself and his words and his manner, Nico can't stop smiling.

::

There's one sister he can't meet, not really.

Bianca is out there somewhere: soul basking in the light of the sun and the warm blue skies, wind breezing against her skin.

Every day she is relearning something that she loved about the world: moonlight and rainfall on a roof top, archery, girl power, girls like Thalia Grace. She must be a little kid now, at the point of discovering little songs and colourful things.

When Nico talks about it he sounds sad but there's something in his voice that's as though he's thinking, yeah, she'd really love that. He once said that Bianca loved every new part of the world that she got to see, and Will supposes in that case it's fitting that she'll get to see it all through two pairs of eyes, both big and beaming, like Nico's.

But one day, months and months and a year or so, they're wandering through the Camp Half-Blood grounds, exploring their way through wilderness and overgrowth and bright colours submerged in uncut grass. The sun is out and the two of them are drowning underneath white light and gold hues that make this place feel like home.

Nico will never be warm. He's a child of the Underworld. But lately, his hands haven't felt quite so cold when he's holding Will's.

"Where are we going?" Will asks, but Nico's pulling him through wildflowers, barely dodging stinging nettles and the odd thorn, and he doesn't really care.

He'd go anywhere with Nico.

Even the Underworld - yes, he did do that, he's a stupid kid for love, okay. He went to dinner with Lord Hades of all people and ate special food that didn't trap his soul or whatever, and Persephone made small talk while everyone looked incredibly awkward. Will hadn't known what to say - he couldn't exactly say "hey, nice place you got here," and asking Nico's father about his job was the last thing he wanted to do.

Will gulps. He pushes that particular experience out of his mind.

"You'll see," Nico says. He pauses but doesn't stop moving, still pulling Will further and further out into the wild. Hell, Will likes being outside and even he's probably never come this far out into the greenery.

And after stumbling down another hill, they're lead down into a clearing, one which lets light fall beneath the roof of trees. It's empty but for the vague pulse of magic that Will swears he can feel, the thump-thump of life.

The glowing gold light.

And a marker. Something that stands out in the centre, where the beams of light really meet. Not a headstone, exactly, not - but it's something and it stands proud and made of stone.

An engraving of a girl, stood in position with a bow, poised to shoot an arrow into the sky ready to rip apart the constellations. A girl who could do anything and a name that Will doesn't need to read to know.

"I found this place a few months after the war," Nico says, after clearing his throat and looking awkwardly around, eyes sweeping the trees and the memorial and the ground. "I made this... place for her. She's not - here, like, physically. It isn't a grave so much. But it feels like her, it's somewhere she'd like. So it's like a little bit of her is here."

Will squeezes Nico's hand, and feels a gentle pulse in return.

"I'm sorry if it's weird," Nico says, hesitant now. "I know you can't know her, not really, but I wanted you to - meet her, I guess."

"It's not weird," Will murmurs. He squeezes Nico's hand again, clasps their fingers closer together. "It's not weird, not at all. And I'm - I'm glad you brought me here," he says.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," Will says. He steps forwards, urges Nico to do so too, still not letting go of the gentle grip on his hand.

The light falls down on them and Will knows what he means now: the way that this place feels, the sleepy magic, warm light. They make their way closer and fall against the soft ground and Nico lays his head against Will and he feels safe.

And Will says, "tell me about her," so Nico does.

#solangelo #solangelo fic #solangelo fanfic #solangelo fanfiction #fic #ive been listening to across the universe all day hence the title #um enjoy i havent proofread lmao

[artclusters]

Short story under the theme “nature” for a college magazine.

“The meaning”

The boat drifted across the pristine lake, framed by lush earth and lodgepole pine trees in the distance. A sweet damp scent was ever-present and water-lilies lazily floated by. Shams has finished casting with a faint whizz that sliced the air, while Luke adjusted his camera settings. It was mostly quiet, aside from the occasional plops and ripples in the water, the far-off chatter of water-birds and the rustling of dragonflies. All they had to do now was to wait and bask in the radiating warmth from the clear late-morning sky, as Fairuz played tenderly from Luke’s phone…

“Why is fishing so romanticized when it’s actually just ridiculously boring?” Luke piped up, slightly irritated and bouncing his leg.

“Maybe we’ll catch something…until then, RELISH this dude. You’re just upset because you’re not getting instant gratification,” Shams mused.

“Yes. That’s exactly it. You’re right. Okay, I’m trying. I know how much you wanted to visit this park.” It was not unusual for Luke to feel restless whenever he was doing “nothing”. He twiddled his short beard as he tried to hold himself back from checking the line every 30 seconds on-the-dot. He felt that the boat will somehow break and drown them if he doesn’t do so.

Shams moved out of view and sat next to him. Luke carefully held his camera and took a photo, aiming to depict the glimmering silver fishing rod perched against the yellow boat’s edge in the center, the sky-blue lake clinging to the sides and with a tinge of greenery at the corners. He inspected it afterwards for what seemed like an eternity.

“It’s trash.”

“What! Why? Let me see.”

Luke defeatedly passed the camera to him. It was a fairly decent photo, in terms of artistry or aesthetic. The colors complemented each other well and it portrayed a pleasing natural scene.

“It’s nice dude,” Shams said frankly.

“No, it’s not,” Luke stood up and frantically flung his arms and turned in circles. “THIS is nice. EVERYTHING here is nice, VERY nice, but THIS-” he pointed harshly at the camera screen, “THIS is not nice. Do you see my problem? I am unable to CAPTURE the beauty around me! It’s not…right! I am a FAILURE!” He turned away in embarrassment, at both his vulnerable outburst and almost losing his balance.  

“…You’re being hard on yourself again…” Shams handed him back the camera. “Just take other photos, okay?”

After several Fairuz songs, camera clicks and releasing a small gasping trout, they set off to the trees trail.

[---]

They strolled through the path, occasionally stepping on fallen leaves and small pine-cones scattered about, emitting a satisfying crunch. The air was even more refreshing than the previous area, and the crisp fragrance of pine-oil replaced the dampness. This trail was a haven of abundance; white pines, red and white fir and ponderosa flourished all around. The red and yellow sugar and big-leaf maple trees were a splendid interruption to the green palette. Shams (being the enthusiast that he is) learned about all of them; Luke listened intently to his little presentations. Luke would also occasionally go back and forth to retrace his steps whenever he lost count, simultaneously making sure not to step over wooden panels. Shams was used to showing up late with him whenever they went somewhere and planning a route with the least human contact. They took their time - this was a goldmine for a photographer as well. Alas, Luke would pause extensively after every photo, only to sigh, curse and glare.

“I can honestly say I’ve never seen anyone stare so angrily at a camera,” Shams teased, to which Luke retaliated by snapping an off-guard photo of him.

They reached the center of the trail, where brown beckoning giant sequoia trees resided, and a gorgeous meadow clothed the rich soil. Lively song-bird chirps resounded from every tree-top, like an orchestrated melody. Shams did not waste the opportunity to share his knowledge with Luke about them (his favorite is the Steller’s jay).

“…This here is the finest ASMR you can experience dude,” Shams concluded, with a theatrical appraising hand motion. 

Luke wandered off to check out the meadow; it was identical to stepping onto a very soft carpet, and the dense grass brushed against his thin legs. Elegant dandelions and purple cress peeked between the blades in full bloom.

“Shams, aren’t you going to generously tell me about this meadow?” Luke knelt and pointed randomly, “why, I must know the exact conditions this flower will thrive in!”

“Nope, I’m not working for free no more! ... And by the way that’s a spring beauty.” Shams found an empty space and lied down, almost sinking in. He patted the ground motioning for Luke to rest for a bit.

Luke plopped alongside him. Looking up to the giants, it felt like being cradled as wise beings watched over them, holding up the immense sky. He tried to fight off the disturbing thought of being crushed by a swiftly collapsing tree – out of nowhere - and clenched his fists several times. He turned to face Shams, who was gleefully double-checking trivia about the park on his phone. Luke was overcome with a strong - yet familiar – feeling that he couldn’t find the words to describe. He quickly sat up.

“I was joking, you know. I can tell you about the meadow,” Shams said, a little too late.

“No, I’m- I’m good. Do you want to move on?” Luke asked, feeling flustered, and wiped his black flannel and grey Bermuda pants. 

“Sure. Help me up dude,” Shams put away his phone as Luke grabbed his wrists.

They went off for a bathroom break and came across a friendly park ranger clad in teal and beige; she directed them to amateur hikes that provide an elevated view.

[---]

The smooth path ended, and a craggy unruly path began. Luke stopped to drink some water (and snap photos that will end up in self-beratement) while Shams looked at a diagram, absorbing it in his memory. Luke thought of how he always admired his reliability in such matters. To their side was a charming, rocky creek, it’s comforting trickling constant in the background. Pink mountain laurels, white-bark pines and prickly cob-web thistles started to appear as they hiked upwards. They were careful not to trip over thick roots embedded in the moist ground, and to take notice of any wild-life around. Luke regretted his decision to wear rainbow-laced black sneakers just because they match his outfit. Non-threatening hissing, swishing and rushing sounds echoed from every nook and cranny. The afternoon sky was turning slightly darker, and the temperature somewhat colder.

“So, Luke, are you like, thinking of this as a career? Or is it more like a hobby?”

“I mean…maybe? I mean…it could be…I don’t…I don’t know, really.”

“Hm. Well, I don’t want to sound preachy, but I think… once you figure out what photography means to you, your feelings about your work might change…you- you get what I mean?”

“…No, no, yeah, yeah I get it! You don’t sound preachy dude don’t worry…thanks, Shams.”

“Alright, because you don’t have to monetize it or whatever, you can do things just because,” Shams was about to disparage capitalism again but decided to let it go.

They smiled with silent appreciation of their mutual understanding. The conversation bounced from their typical lighthearted stuff, like discussing the inspiring animated French film The Rabbi’s Cat they’ve seen the other day, to more serious venting about their troubles back home.

They eventually reached the top of a rock, mountain hemlocks and foliage sprawling and hanging along the sides. They were welcomed with a stunning vastness of vivid olive-green, blending with the hazy azure horizon of the golden glorious sky. Shams approached the edge while Luke hastily whipped out the tripod (Shams urged him to not rush through it).

Luke tried to sit still and fiddled with his earrings. An intrusive, gory image of carelessly falling and hurting himself played repeatedly in his head.

Shams gently put his arm around him, “I hope you’re enjoying this as much as I am.”

Luke hesitated before resting against his shoulder, “I just want to feel good about my work, but I haven’t been able to…for a long time…I don’t know why exactly.”

The breeze caressed them as they idly gazed ahead, anticipating that fiery combination of orange, red and yellow as they collide together, the sun nesting beneath the sparse clouds.

“…You were my first subject, Shams,” Luke recalled suddenly.

“…Huh, yeah, didn’t it take you like ages to settle on a concept?”

“That…does sound like something I would do.”

Shams smiled fondly, “but once we finally started, time just flew by. We were having so much fun. Ah, I looked quite…different back then.”

“…Yeah.” There was that powerful and familiar feeling again, bordering on a pang of nagging longing, the words to phrase it drowned in the back of his mind.

“Hey, I’ll help you set up.”

Luke counted down from 10 seconds and took several shots to construct in a panorama later. Fortunately, there were only a few people around. He attempted to hide his profound, inexplicable disappointment. Maybe he didn’t take it at the perfect moment. Maybe it was too late, or too early, sort of blurry or the angle was marginally off…he can conjure up endless criticisms if he thought about it for too long.

“Let’s go Shams, before it gets too dark.”

They soon packed up and went back using a shortcut to the paved lodges area. The pathway was calmly lit with rose-colored rope lights. They found a wooden bench, with a lime-green recycling bin and an oval table on the sides. The park was much quieter now, save for the movement of other visitors.

“Hey Luke, I’ll go get us drinks. Just um, sit here and look through today’s photos again. I’m sure you’ll find one you like, and we’ll call it a good day!” Shams reassured.

Luke drummed his fingers as he waited. He decided he might as well…

[---]

To Shams, photography simply meant one of the many wonderful ways to spend time with his dearest. Gradually, Luke spiraled with the obsession of honing and perfecting it – it was akin to a curse. Maybe it was the praise and expectations of other people; maybe it was the expectations he set for himself. Maybe it’s his destructive compulsive nature; maybe it’s the post-graduation emptiness. Maybe it’s his over-bearing parents who incessantly mock and belittle anything he enjoys. For whatever reason, Luke would tragically end up consumed by his passions until he has nothing left to give, evolving into loathing and ultimately abandonment.

“Hi there, what can I get you?” the worker cheerfully popped out from the small lodge square window. A sugary, mellow aroma wafted from inside.

Today has been a lovely yet heavy sensory experience for Shams, which gave him a moderate headache from having to process everything at once.

“Hello there…” Shams squinted at their name tag, “…Robin!” 

“Would you like some fresh apple juice?” They looked reminiscent of a brand mascot, wearing big white gloves, navy blue overalls and an oversized cap.

“…Sure. Two, please.” Shams hoped for a moment that they would’ve somehow sensed his worries and gave him advice or some encouraging anecdote that tells him exactly what he needs to hear. Of course, that’s only in fiction, or drama shows like This Is Us, it would be very awkward otherwise.

“Here you go, dear,” they handed him the drinks with a clink.

“Thank you.” He studied the menu, thinking if there’s anything Luke’s unpredictable taste would like. “Um, I’ll just have a popover, for now.” 

[---]

Luke scrolled down to the gallery beginning; he glanced at it with a lack of interest at first, then he realized there are photos he had completely skipped over.

A photo of Shams towards the boat’s edge, pretending to reel in a heavy catch, puffing out his chest and arms with a radiant, hearty smile.

The surprise photo he took of Shams at the tree trail, his huge curly hair a black blur, his endearing, contagious laugh displaying his tooth-gap. His ankh and many colorful stimming necklaces were tangled and swinging.

A photo of Shams looking keenly at the tree-tops, his cartoonish round glasses taking up half of his chubby face. He pushed back his curls and scrunched his bushy eyebrows, immersed in spotting any birds. He was wearing his beige outdoor vest and the Woody Woodpecker t-shirt that Luke gifted him, that has since gotten tighter.

The unrehearsed photo of Shams during their climb, when he interjected in Luke’s low-perspective shot attempt, which they giggled about right after. He was crouched down in his camouflage shorts and black hiking boots, his lone braid dangled over his shoulder, his hands twisted in a spontaneous vogue pose, showing off his purple-painted nails.

A photo of Shams living his intricate fantasy of an explorer; he emulated a triumphant demeanor, one hand on his waist (a rectangular scar on his forearm in view) and the other pensively placed on his chin. His kind hazel eyes glowed with awe and delight, as he contemplated towards nowhere in particular. There was a hint of strain on his serious face, most likely from trying not to laugh and break character. The pre-sunset sky formed a magnificent backdrop against his dark brown skin.

Luke held tightly onto the camera, almost as if it was in threat of suddenly disappearing. These photos (belonging to a bigger unexamined collection) were taken in jest after all- thus unimportant, right? No…these candid photos of Shams ignited beautiful feelings within him, feelings that he was looking for all along in his work, feelings that have continuously lived yearning to be acknowledged, feelings that he cannot begin to explain. But he will try, he had to, he must.

[---]

“Got the drinks!” Shams passed one to him, “oh and…three ice cubes! Just how you like it.” 

Luke absentmindedly set it aside and said nothing.

“Not in the mood for apple?”

“What? No, no, it’s great, Shams, listen,” Luke took a deep breath, “um, remember when you asked me earlier today what photography means to me?”

“Uh-huh, sort of,” Shams uttered between sips. He waved the delicious wrapped popover towards Luke’s face to try it, but he quickly shook his head.

“I don’t know if this is about to be one of my weird confusing ramblings, but I don’t care. Shams, in my pursuit for a pointless and meaningless and subjective notion of perfection I’ve lost track of WHY I enjoy this- why I even DO this in the first place, I mean, how it all started.” He tapped the camera rather forcefully, “this right here was for you and me, US. An…an- an outlet for two outcast high-schoolers, expressing themselves and- and discovering who we were. Shams, in the simplest terms, I…love photography, and what photography is - means - to me is…you.” He looked away, “I’m sorry that I forgot such an important thing, and I’m sorry if I sound like I’ve come across such an obvious epiphany…” He let out a pained chuckle, his cheeks flushed. “I don’t know if I’m making sense…”

Shams took a long sip and stayed quiet for a bit, in case he had something more to say. He knows how Luke agonizes when he loses his train of thought. He reached out his hand and tidied Luke’s bob-cut, his hair that he always ruins with his non-stop gestures.

“I love you too, Luke,” he requited with utmost sincerity.

They smiled. Then they broke into laughs.

Time stood still, a palpable aura of relief and exhilaration embracing them. Cascading shadows of tree leaves swayed gracefully nearby.

“…Hey, is the camera still on?” Shams finally asked.

Luke, still in a daze, checked the battery meter. “Yeah.”

“…Would you join me in one last photo today?”

“…”

[---]

Luke set up the tripod and selected a timed photo with a flash.

10…9…8…7…6

They turned to face each other as they sat back on the bench.

Shams softly placed his hands over Luke’s and leaned closer.

5…4…3…2…1

[End] ---

#me #writing #nature #mywriting #mine

[hamletstudy]

[1/100] - // 7.18.19 // death’s head hawkmoth 

So I’ve been kind of emotional as of late. I was jarred into remembering about the ghost of the knight that guarded Jenna Heap’s bedroom after seeing a photoset with a description that listed various ways how ghosts could exist or reasons why they would linger: and that those paired with strong emotions never did fade away. For some reason, this triggered the floodgates: and I found myself weeping over a knight whose name I can’t even remember. I just know that he was fond of silly jokes, and often made terrible puns. He presided over the princess’ bedroom as he had for all of the other princesses before her, and when the castle was being overcome with dark magic thanks to Simon, her brother gone rogue: he made a spirited (spirited!) attempt to defend her. There’s something about that sweet wholesomeness in a paternal figure that really made me bawl, especially when he’s clumsy about it and sometimes taken for granted when Jenna is in a snit.

I keep hearing the whip poor will birds. The tiger lilies that’d been shorn and placed into a glass to dry out and die have long been disposed of, mulched back into the earth, maybe- buried like compost in little piles in the rich loam. They call in a peculiar sort of way, against the other bright birdsong that lights up in early morning and continues until late evening, when the sun falls from the skies: a repeated end noise that makes it sound as if they’re speaking to you. 

I haven’t heard, or seen any black birds: crows, ravens, red winged black birds, and I’m worried that the mortal offense of the SUV nearly running them over made them a little more cold, indifferent: I hadn’t had any of them call at my usual alarm hours. I can understand. Or perhaps it’s just that I’m growing up- after all, a coming of age, a loosening of the bonds of childhood: plunged into new plumages and new eras coming alighting down on feathers not so glossily inky.

I’ve been watching a lot of Dr. Mike reacts to medical dramas as of late- I think it’s just that weird, parasocial coziness of having someone more informed than I am explain as we go along, a sort of false learning that I nod and smile at while idly digitally collaging in the background. Speaking of digital collaging, I forgot how soothing that is for me. It’s the perfect way to go about it. The internet has limitless resources, all of the ways to edit it you could want- without any of the mess of glue, shakily trimmed edges from damaged hands, and no worrying about the bulk or tearing if you choose to arrange them in a particular way.

I’ve been feeling isolated. I feel like I know some things approximately, and not very many concretely. The sheer variation of plants around here is comforting, in a distracting sort of way: but the birds are beginning to haunt me. They’re there when I wake up, jarred from sleep- they’re there when I’m trying to go to bed. They’re always there. The greenery seems so far apart from me: almost too exhausted to take in the variation. It all seems like so much work. 

It feels like I’m perpetually exhausted. My body seems to want eight hours of its own accord, regardless of the timespan that this falls into. I’m sick of being eaten alive in my own house. The walls are infested with biting bugs: my shoulders and back are livid and red, and I’ve expressed pus from several of them, including on my face and fingers myself. Blood spattering down my face has become almost commonplace.

My hair is a lot more biddable when it’s not being run through the daily stress of being washed three times with enough shampoo to drown a rat in. I’ve killed one black spider that was already curled up and twitching after I trod on a curtain, and one fly that took entirely too long to die. I’m a terrible shot with a towel. I like running my hands through my bangs. The way that it looks as if I’ve a particularly short, boyish cut is really pleasing. I think the bang running is a self soothing habit borne of nervousness, though. Sometimes I pull at my hair in frustration. It’s annoying to try to sleep with it all bundled up into a bun, but even in the cooler depths of the basement- which due to the odd placement of a hilly slope, is really the ground floor, it’s hot as hell. And giant mosquitos live down there. Alongside the black widow colony that set up residence and that I spotted first, as well as swaying, white thick strands of webbing that had gotten all tangled up and coarse.

Found a book that I forgot that I had lent, that I had owned. The sparkly triangles on the cover are soothing. The heft of the book, the cut of the pages. The softness of its supine spine. I cried when I realized it was a book about a woman in my shoes, who had chosen to be furiously happy in spite of her circumstances. Perhaps to spite them. I could only bring myself to read a single chapter. She’s high energy: a lot to process. Even in text I’m an introvert, worn out and exhausted by interactions, even of the parasocial kind.

I tested all of the toilets in the house when we first moved, and ranked them in order of how likely I thought that I might break them, hilariously. The one assigned to me is the one that I thought worked the best, even if it’s cold: and positioned weirdly, it’s tiny, everything lined up: window, you, mirror. You watch others watching yourself, blinds a thin separation. It’s kind of hilarious in a metaphorical sort of way.

I took a bath for the first time in maybe a year, maybe more- and it felt like a religious experience. I wept at being held. I wept at the sensation of being loved, of something that I longed for and missed and hadn’t had the time or chance to in so long. My body hurt, less. I could forget myself, suspended tenderly in the suds. I cried. I stayed in the bath until it ran cold, and pulled myself out hesitantly, gingerly. I wanted to stay. I stayed for the better part of two hours, wrinkling all over. I cried until I couldn’t tell where I ended and started.

The cold winds in combination with the random mechanical sounds and various airplanes flying overhead, with a wet edge to the air can make night seem particularly foreboding. I’m cranky. I’ve been a lot more on emotional tenterhooks as of late. I’ve found myself living according to waiting around for others, on their whims- and I don’t like that. It’s something that I need to address again. It’s the malaise of not having a concrete, solo project to pour all of my attention into.

I swing between wild extremes. If I was an astrologist in any earnest capacity, I would blame it on my gemini moon and libra aspect to my sun sign. Because I don’t believe in astrology, and at most think it’s an amusing short hand to quickly communicate with others about ourselves that at best: has social value, rather than scientific, I chalk it up to a lack of structure and order in my routine, all over the place eating and times, weirdly bunched up water intake, and being sweaty and hormone fluctuations and blood loss out the wazoo.

There was still beach sand inside of my pen, when I took a closer look at it, after a moment of startled fear and confusion as to why the texture was so different on it. Summer draws ever closer to an end and it paralyzes me. I’m horrified by the passage of time, and this time, that deep dread and anxiety about it started as early as the very first week of July. I really hope that this doesn’t start becoming a trend. It strikes me that it probably won’t have the opportunity to, considering the odd placement of summer in the higher echelons of education. 

Going into a new city, dealing with new circumstances and faces and navigating it all pretty much after being tossed into the deep end- terrifying. Being stranded in the concrete jungle without a scrap of greenery, other than the tall pink tree in whose bowers I saw a peregrine falcon slaughter a pigeon and rip it to shreds one summer? Terrible. But then, even now- the nature here drives me to distraction. I can’t really enjoy it. I wonder what part of me lost the ability to do that, to sit simply in the world and let it wash over me in deep, abiding comfort.

The cold grayness of the city is depressing, the soot and grime of it settles into your bones and after awhile even the warmth of summer, or the rattling heater can’t make me feel any better about the black, sooty snow churned into a slushy slurry beneath your feet. And the stairs! It’s just the shift of newness. It’s not entirely unknown grounds. It’s a place I know well by night and summer and the neon, shifting quality of holidays. Not so much in its every day to day. But I think it’ll be alright. Its always been the closest thing I’ve ever had to a home city, throughout all of my turmoil brewing years.

I think a part of it is deep grief that’s been stirred up again by contact I didn’t expect. I think a part of it is the sharp hurt at realizing that my importance in others’ lives is not the same as theirs in mind. I know logically, that just calls for a readjustment, a tuning in dialing: but having the curtain pulled back on it aches all of the same. The things we do for the people we love, not knowing if they love us in the same ways, in the ways that matter.

I haven’t been able to bring my pen down onto the paper. I finger the frilled edge from where I ripped pages out, scoring down with a pair of splayed open scissors, I smell the perfume, heady and rosy and floral, and sweet, so sweet- mellowing out the sharp printer’s ink, still a cloud that gets thrown up, a scent of beauty and warm summer beach sand, eating melted icecreams and lying in white, clean sheets snuggled against the blue silky pillowcases that I love so much- and I can’t bring myself to mar it. I don’t know what to do with it. I want to make a safe space, a familiar place: a private sanctum before, to have a place to retreat to, a concept of safety, a place to head back to when I am unsure and lost and questioning, but I can’t bring myself to. A part of me wonders if it is because I am punishing myself for all of the things I cannot bring myself to do, out of that paralyzing fear of indecision, and learned helplessness.

It’s something that bites at me constantly: where do I stand in others’ eyes? Sometimes it surprises me, the unwavering support revealed in a pithy, half of a joke remark. Sometimes it punches the air out of my lungs, a twisting hurt at realization: and smothering it underneath, because no one told you to feel like that. No one ever said that they felt like that. You had just assumed, and sometimes- your assumptions are wrong. Sometimes you are wrong. You walk around with grief in your eyes, tangled in your hair, hands shaking from holding all of it, dripping from the corner of your mouth like the spit and snot and tears that cut tracks down your face: like the baying hounds fighting over territory two doors down.

But whose fault is it, really? You’re the one who put it there.

I read something that struck home. It isn’t naive to expect people to appreciate your love. It was an empty, generic platitude, and yet somehow it was as comforting to see as being wrapped up in my favourite blanket and eating my favourite chocolate cake. I know that I eat to self soothe. I know that it’s a problem. These days, my hands are gnawed down bloodily raw, I am anxious, trembling, walking through my days with generalized anxiety and fear and wanting to cry. I find myself crying at little to no provocation. I feel like a vessel of water filled to the brim: the top bulging with surface tension. One drop and I rupture, I shatter- the elasticity only goes so far. I spilleth over.

I’ve been listening to a lot of country music. I’ve been listening to a lot of indie pop music. I’ve been listening to a lot of Russian pop music, because I was trying to find a ringtone for Sascha’s father in the thing I’m writing with my friend. I found myself crying, shoulders heaving, shoulders trembling over an Ed Sheeran song, of all things: at the idea of being able to put it all on someone else, put it into their hands, let go of that weight and be held for a little while, just to be taken care of. I feel as if that’s what I truly want, underneath all the hysteria and the raw, rough edges: to be loved, and to love in turn. Sometimes I run across songs that chafe at me: make me feel seen, exposed, a throbbing wound barely held back by the lightest layer of skin, the blood flushing the surface: that you aren’t alright. And I don’t think that I am alright.

I find myself crying myself to sleep these days. It makes me sad in an abstract sort of way, for myself, for the fact that I am crying. The winds remind me of when I was a child, and spoke to the wind: fully believing that it was a man, it was named Zephyr, that he pushed and carried my tiny body down the windy round about, that he made tiny cyclones and leaf circulations where I waved twigs at: the sensation of being held and caressed by the wind, hair gently tousled and pried loose. It feels as if a little part of my past has come back to haunt me. I feel as if I am a dwelling of ghosts. I feel as if I am a collection of all that has happened to me, rather than what I have done. I question what exactly I have done.

It’s bizarre what changing the quality of light will do to you: the sky seems flat and gray, and the world similarly dulled and muted for it: the skies are yellow. The umbrella is a stark, sharp red: the extended wood light overtop, weathered, cracked, grey. I want to take a power washer to it.

I want to write a book some day. Who doesn’t? Why? I promised the woman who kept me writing, inspired me to continue to- she said that she expected, in the easily gracious way of absolute faith, to see a dedication in the front cover’s page to her. I don’t know what I want to write about. I don’t know. I sit here for hours sometimes, paralyzed by indecision, unable to make a choice: unable to commit to even the most meaningless of things. Paper or pen. Fridge or room temperature. This identical pen, or the other? Phone or computer? What to hold in my pockets? What to eat?

I feel like I’m slipping into bad habits. Last summer I starved myself thinner. People noticed, complimented me: told me to keep up the good work. I’ve put all of it back on and then some, and I’m disgusted at being recognized. There is an ache in wanting to be seen, and the revulsion in that actually transpiring. It is central to the experience of womanhood. This summer I find myself indulging in comfort foods at hours when the night haunts me: oven soft chocolate chunk cookies, pizza folded over on itself, chocolate cake with creamy frosting, burgers with red onions that make my mouth smart and hurt but God, they’re good. I’ve been drinking a lot of water. I’ve been taking my iron pills. I’ve been trying to see if I have been getting enough sleep. Learning to be gentle with myself is a process.

I’m a woman now, not a girl. No longer the feral wild child, haunting the clover fields and picking through for red budding gowns, laughing with delight at monarchs high up in the sky: symbolic for a livening of the senses, a quickening of breath: the heart thrumming and racing with enthusiasm at learning that the wonders captured on the glossy ink page were real, and here in this life too: but a tired eyed, hollowed out woman. A woman who can’t find solace in the outdoors, who shies from the biting insects, who expresses pus and dribbles blood, spurting out onto mirrors, so tired. I have lines from frowning, now. I have lines carved in lightly where my eyebrows scrunch and furrow. I wear my unhappiness writ across my face, even when I don’t want to be. The monarchs haven’t come this year. They haven’t in many.

The first anniversary of the worst day of my life harkens: and I dread it. Immediately after is one of the most hysterical belated birthday gifts possible, a little nod of absurdism from the universe. Emotional whiplash. It’ll be a year soon. A year into the unknown, stumbling forwards into the future: time doesn’t wait for anyone, doesn’t slow down, doesn’t stop: even as we crawl forwards, haul ourselves on worn down fingernails. And wasn’t it good? Wasn’t there good in it, after all? Even if you didn’t know to anticipate it? Didn’t know what to look forward to?

I’m a very tired young woman, who has been harangued by death all of my life. I think that I’ll live a little longer, as far as the odds go. Someday I will love the things that I love again. For now: I cry when it washes over me, and try to hold onto the idea that it’ll be alright.

#elleDOP.txt

[justwravel-blog]

Places to visit in Kerala

“To travel is to live”- Hans Christian Andersen.

Travel provides us with a much-needed relief breaking the monotony of everyday life. For many, travelling means relaxation, for thrill seekers it is an adventure and for many it is like an addiction, hard to let go.

Nowadays the word travelling only signifies travelling abroad. Our own country, India has so much to offer that we might require an entire life to explore it properly. The state Kerala, on India’s Malabar Coast, is one such gem. Kerala is referred to as ‘God’s Own County’, which leaves tourists in awe with its incredible natural beauty.

A trip to Kerala will surely make you realise how underrated this place is. Backwater, hill station, wildlife, it has a lot of variety to offer, giving you more than just a single reason to visit Kerala.

Before heading out chalk out a proper plan; do some background research about the places you want to visit beforehand. Otherwise, you might just skip the most attractive ones!

Here is a list of places to see in Kerala which are a must visit. Have a quick look at it, thank us later!

·         Munnar:

One of the most popular places to visit in Kerala, this well-known tea estate is a hot favourite among travellers. Munnar has the fame of being a commercial centre for some largest tea estates. This gorgeous hill station on the Western Ghat Mountain range is also called the “Kashmir of South India”.

Over the years it has become a must visit place in Kerala for the newlywed honeymoon couples. This place is also home for some very rarely found flora and fauna. Tata Museum, Blossom Park, Kundala Lake, Attukal Waterfalls are some other great attractions. The soothing weather makes your stay here a pleasant one.

·         Alleppey:

This place has so much to offer you that even the destination abroad will look lame before it. Alleppey or Alappuzha is ready to mesmerise you with a houseboat trip along the rustic Kerala backwaters.

This oldest planned city is highlighted for having the glory of being the ‘cleanest town of India’. The backwater makes Alappuzha a celebrated tourist spot. Even the Kerala tourism department is leaving no stones unturned in promoting this lovely place. The place also has some historical value, being the centre of Punnapra-Vayalar uprising. For attracting the tourists’ attention it arranges competitive boat racing for amusement. Keep Alleppey in your bucket list priorities.

·         Wayanad:

In today’s time when eyes long for a piece of green land, places like Wayanad is there to our rescue. A district in the north-east of Kerala is a piece of heavenly sight. This newly found district is mostly covered in forest, thus having a tranquil atmosphere. Covered in greenery, the environment here is enchanting.

Wayanad is home for many tribal communities. This place offers you many adventure sports and trekking opportunities which are enough to hypnotise the adventure freaks. The rainy seasons are a great time to enjoy the serene nature. The cool and comfortable weather gives you one more reason to visit this place in Kerala.

·         Kovalam:

Apart from offering you all the fun, this beach town has another major advantage. This tourists’ paradise has the advantage of being located in the metropolitan area. Thus it provides smooth connectivity.

This small convenient spot has three beaches- Lighthouse beach, Hawah beach Samudra beach. If you enjoy long walks along the beach side in the evening, this place is just for you.  Enjoy your time out from the busy schedule, take a dip or go for swimming in the shallow water. Kovalam has a huge National as well as an International fan base. It was most popular in the hippy era. Many find the presence of black sand on the beach of Kovalam interesting.

·         Kumarakom:

Another wonderful God’s creation, Kumarakom is located near the city of Kottayam. This is another hub of backwater tourism. Other than having mesmerizing scenery, the place is also noted for its bird sanctuaries.

Congenial weather throughout the year ensures this is a must visit place in Kerala for tourists. Luxury resorts, boat racing are some of the highlights of this place.

·         Bekal:

The beautiful beach surrounding the fort, water sports are some of the major attractions of this small town in Kasaragod district. Bekal is enlisted in the list of top destinations. Just a few kilometres away from the National Highways, Bekal fort is one of the largest and most well maintained.

Bordered by a beach, the tall towers of the Bekal fort offers a breathtaking view of the Arabian Sea. This giant keyhole shaped fort has historical significance too.

·         Thrissur:

This particular city in Kerala is rich in cultural and traditional values. Thrissur is also known as the ‘Cultural capital of Kerala’. Do not miss this religious and spiritual junction in your trip to Kerala. Spread over a considerably vast area, Thrissur is popular for the cultural event, Thrissur Pooram. This colourful festival is a sight to behold. The festival is marked by live music, fireworks, processions, etc.

This city of spectacular temples has been a centre of Hindu Scholarship. Other religions such as Islam, Christianity, and Judaism has entered Indian subcontinent through this district. The diversity of this city attracts people. An overnight houseboat tour of this beautiful region is something to look forward to.

Other than these places, some more honourable mentions are Thekkady, Vagamon, Varkala, Kannur, Munroe Island, and Poovar among others.

Named as one of the ‘ten Paradises’ of the world by National Geographic Traveler, Kerala was quite an unpopular and unexplored location till the early 1980s. With the rapid initiative taken up by Kerala tourism, Kerala has become a well-appreciated name among tourists. The developing tourism industry contributes a lot to the state's economy. Now the popularity of its beaches, backwater, sanctuaries, and hill stations, is spreading among foreign tourists as well.  Owning to the campaigns and word of mouth, the fame of the state is sure to be increased worldwide.

[airbnbfestivals]

How many stars for this review? I've never given below five!!!

First of all, I would just like to preface this by saying that I have used AirBnB both domestically and internationally and I have never encountered a place that wasn't quite what I expected. I always read the reviews and listing thoroughly, and I closely examine the pictures so I know what I'm getting myself into. I even had one host that was pretty rude upon arrival, and I still gave five stars, I just made it clear in the review that he was rude to us.My hubby and I were looking to get away from the city to somewhere quiet, remote, and private, and we booked a cabin in the mountains. The listing itself is pretty detailed and did acknowledge all the faults of the listing, which I thought was impressive, but there was one thing that the hosts were not transparent about.The cabin was not private at all. In the pictures, there is all this beautiful greenery around the cabin, making it look like it was totally private. There was a glimpse of a house in the background, but there was tons of trees and other greenery between the house and the cabin. Two reviewers even specifically said the cabin was private. It was a damn good price for the area, too, so we decided to book it after carefully reviewing the listing to make sure it met the criteria we were looking for.Once we arrived to the cabin, it was not private at all. First off, the listing itself said the cabin was "located in a vacation community with a few visible homes in sight". This was more like... a trailer park. With some really rough looking trailers, and a few really nice cabins, and giant freaking house next door, which was occupied. Second, all the greenery that was in the pictures and supposedly shielded you from the neighbors was cleared away. You could see all the neighbors on all sides. Third, there was a trailer on the lot (not a huge lot, by the way) with someone staying in it. I was so shocked by the difference between the pictures and the actual lot, that I looked at the listing again, because I wondered if I was losing my mind. And nope, the pictures are clearly old and taken from specific angles to avoid showing you that the cabin is not remote at all. This really pissed me off. We live in the city with close neighbors on either side of us and really wanted to escape that feeling, only for us to come here and still feel slightly claustrophobic with the occupied house next door and the occupied trailer on the lot. Had we known this, we would have booked something else. I have since cooled down about it significantly, but its still really bothering me. I felt totally tricked.A few additional things that irked me during our stay: Number one, they tried to charge us ten dollars more than what they listed as their pet cleaning fee. Number two, when we asked the hosts where they kept their axe (there was a wood stove and plenty of firewood for it), they told us it was behind the shed. There was no shed on the property at all...I cannot make this up. The wood was just under some covered area behind the cabin. Lastly, there was a ladder leading up to the loft, where the bed was, but there was no mechanism to hold the ladder in place while climbing it...it was pretty unstable and scary.The weirdest part about this, is that this person is rated as a supherhost! The Cabin has nothing under five stars, and people have been staying in it consistently for the last couple years.I am really torn about rating this AirBnB because, number one, I am apparently the first person to have any beef about the space, and number two, everything else about the stay was fine. The hosts were transparent about many other things, like the mattress being thin, the handle of the oven being broken, the small hot water tank, etc. The kitchen was stocked with all condiments and things you would ever need, the wood was fully stocked, and so on and so forth. Its just this one aspect of the listing that really rubbed me the wrong way, and I have never been disappointed by a Superhost. But I also feel the need to let other potential guests know that the listing isn't quite what they display it to be in terms of location and privacy.What do you think? Get $20 off your first AirBnB stay.

#How many stars for this review? I've never given below five!!! #vacation #family #place to stay #air

[meanderingmaz]

23 March 2016

Day 55

Myanmar, Hpa-an, Golden Sky Guesthouse

I woke up that day feeling a little hungover, truth be told I was still a little drunk from the night before. Dana, Nicolai, Mikkel, Anneloes and I had been drinking rum till the later hours of the evening much to everyone else’s dismay, as one French girl made very apparent by shouting at us, in French, at 2am. That is, I was not in the best state of mind when I woke up that day. I went to check my phone, as we are all now conditioned to do before anything else, and saw that Anneloes had not abandoned her idea of climbing Mount Zwegabin and watching sunset at the bat cave today, as I thought she had done. I was messaging her about her plans when it suddenly dawned on me that she thought I was joining her and I had actually made the plans with her. The thought of climbing for 2 hours hungover filled me with dread but the thought of letting my new friend down actually filled me with more dread, so I obliged and strived to sober myself up. 

After breakfast and whilst getting ready, I did make a half-arsed attempt at getting Dana to come with me but I knew that he was not one to move from his bed when hungover, let alone vertically ascend 725m, so I let him be. 

Anneloes and I met and we rented a scooter together to drive to the mountain. I knew how beautiful Hpa-an was so I was looking forward to the views and I was also doing it for the ‘bikini-body’; I was getting myself in the right mind set. 

We started the climb full of high hopes and excitement, and were seeing the funny side with regards to the fact that we were climbing this mountain hungover, and we had not got up early enough to avoid the blaring heat of the midday sun. As Anneloose put it 'the best idea we’ve ever had’!

The climb was steep and the sun was relentless. The sweat poured down our face such that we only needed to part our lips slightly to taste enough salt to satisfy a chef for a month. When I looked down at myself I would see my midriff glisten with sweat and wonder why I had decided to wear a clean shirt today. Regardless we kept our spirits high, I made an attempt to learn the numbers 1 to 10 in Dutch to provide some distraction from the climb, and we often took breaks drinking sugary drinks and comforting each other. About a fifth of the way up we came to a water tap where we took a well earned break guzzling as much water as we could. Anneloes and I were sat looking at the taps drinking when she just said 'let’s pour the water all over ourselves’. I wish I could have seen my face at that moment as I felt my eyes light up. We both jumped over to the tap and started taking cups of the refreshingly cool water and pouring it all over heads, our face, and our body. The sweat could not be felt any longer. We knew we’d be carrying extra weight but our drenched clothes would keep us cool for as long as they could. Not only had this cooled us, it had also made us laugh immensely. We thoroughly enjoyed those 10 minutes of desperation for relief, and it was all rather hilarious, giving us renewed energy, something we perhaps needed even more than the water. 

This was unfortunately only a fifth of the way up (something we weren’t aware of at the time). We carried on with the harsh ascent that could not have been less gradual. As Mount Zwegabin is so vertical, the height you are gunning for is always slightly out of view, something we kept forgetting when we expressed: 'we can’t get much higher than this’ or 'I think these are the last set of stairs’, or 'we’re nearly there’. I can’t speak for Anneloes but I truly believed our affirmations, making the disheartenment even greater when I set eyes on yet another set of absurdly steep, grey, concrete stairs. 

Three hours later the actual top came into view and there was truly only one last set of stairs to go. By now - 1:20pm - we were both exhausted, hungry, and weak and could only think of the restaurant at the top a traveller descending had told us about. As a Sales Administrator who works in an office, this kind of profound physical exhaustion was nothing I’d ever experienced before. My mind was too busy keeping my body upright that there was no room for the background noise that I have come to know as my life - come to know as me. 

We stumbled over to the restaurant, asked for rice and vegetables and sat down. The rice was cold, the vegetables were cold and unfamiliar, and we had been seated outside where giant trees obstructed the view. So we were sat on there, eating cold food looking out at leaves. But somehow we loved it. The climb had ended, we had done it, so the food tasted glorious, the view didn’t matter, I forgot what a 'bikini body’ even was, and social norms weren’t a worry. We just sat there in a sort of trance, peaceful, mindful, reflective (it was weird)! Having recently read a book on Buddhism I wondered whether this was anything like the sought after Nirvana, but I guess it didn’t matter what it was.

Once Anneloes and I had remembered we were in each others’ company we both spoke of experiencing a similar feeling. I was so glad to have shared this experience with her. 

We clung to that moment a little longer but, as everything does, it did end. We payed for the food and walked around to see the actual view of Hpa-an from the mountain. Perhaps we were so high that the clouds were below us, obstructing the scene, as the view wasn’t as awe-inspiring as I had imagined. There was thin layer of mist between us and Hpa-an beauty, that the scenery was only slightly visible to the naked eye. But we really didn’t mind, we still enjoyed what we could see and somehow, the fact that you couldn’t capture the scene on a camera made it even more special. 

Our descent began and of course it was much easier on our lungs (I can’t imagine our knees were thanking us too much though) and most importantly, much quicker. The heat of the sun was still strong, if not stronger as the sun had dominated the mid-sky for several hours now. When we reached the tap we had used to drench ourselves before we did so anew, and again it renewed our energy with laughter. A German guy (I think he was German from his accent) who was just starting his climb asked us whether we had got to the top and taken a shower which really made us giggle. That guy seemed really sweet (I wish I’d got his name) as we noticed that he had brought a brick up with him for the locals who were building on part of the mountain. On our way up Anneloes and I had also seen hundreds on these bricks towards the bottom of the mountain, remarked how heavy they looked and how much it must suck to take them up and then carried on with our ascent without helping. It made us laugh that neither of us had even thought to bring one up to help, as the kind German guy had done. Although we did see a few people stop and take pictures as if they were climbing the mountain with the bricks and then not carry the bricks up, so that made us feel better about ourselves. 

'Flat land, flat land’ I shouted excitedly when we got to the bottom, and, although exhausted, I was still excited about catching sunset at the bat cave. We got back on the scooter and headed to the other side of the river. Driving through Hpa-an on a scooter is breathtaking for anyone who is deciding upon their next holiday destination. Although we had eaten at the top we were still really hungry and were chanting for a second lunch. On our way we stopped at four (I will call them restaurants but really they are stalls that have been put up on the side of the road) restaurants. At the first restaurant nobody spoke or understood a word of English. We made gestures that we wanted to eat, repeatedly moving our hands towards our mouth, and were taken to a giant menu stuck to the side of the wall, all in Burmese. I began thinking of ways I could act out eating noodles when I heard Anneloes say 'maybe we’ll try somewhere else’. I wondered why that hadn’t been my first thought. The second really wasn’t a restaurant, it was a food market of some sort, with all sorts of interesting smells coming from it. With a short look around we concurred that eating here was probably akin to playing a game of food poisoning roulette, and moved on. I was reminded how truly untouristy Hpa-an is and how you can’t help but feel like its undiscovered territory for Europeans. Far from annoying us, the search added to our admiration of Hpa-an and we both hoped that mass tourism would not take its charm away. 

At the third place, again nobody spoke or understood English but we felt confident as we could see three big lidded pans of food and thought that we could just point at the dishes that we liked. We went over and a short, old Burmese lady removed the lids from the pots one by one. The food in the first two pots really didn’t look amazing but we weren’t being too fussy today. She then removed the lid of the third pot to reveal some sort of curry made up mainly of chicken feet, nails and all. We looked down in surprise and both just uttered 'oh’. In horror but still politely we declined to eat there, quickly got back on the scooter, and heard the Burmese lady giggling to herself. 

We drove on and found an English sign outside of a restaurant, a rare and welcome sight. We almost ran there and sat down to read a menu in English with food we recognised. Although this place had people who spoke and understood English we were still a wonder for them. A few of the customers asked to take pictures with us which was odd but very sweet nevertheless. 

Hunger having been tamed we arrived at the bat cave. We had to drive down some windey roads and then pay an entrance fee to see it (1000kyats i.e. 70p). Once we’d paid and barely walked a few steps I suddenly realised what a paradise we had entered. There was just thousands of shades of green in every direction you looked - I really felt I had entered Narnia in the summer. There was so much greenery that the cave itself was actually kept slightly out of view. We walked round to find it when we were taken aback by the view just to the right of where we were walking. You could see the river we had crossed to get here and the bridge with its triangles plastered a pattern across the horizon. The water looked perfect and we could see the mountains scattered round Hpa-an. We had been treated to a spectacular view, just not in the place we had expected it. It was an hour till sunset but when we walked towards the cave, quite a few people were already there. We found out that you couldn’t go into the cave, probably to avoid disturbing the bats, but you could climb to the top to look out from it. This was a very short climb but our legs still ached so much. 'I kind of want to do it’ I blurted out hoping Anneloes would stop my madness. I just heard her say 'let’s just do it then’ and we took our tired legs up for one last climb. The view was stunning from the ground but it was even better at the top. We looked out and in the distance saw the tip of Mount Zwegabin, where we had been but a few hours ago. In the foreground was the river, the bridge, the part of the cave we weren’t on, and a few boats besides some locals swimming. As someone who can barely swim, even I was tempted to jump into the river. It just looked so inviting as it reflected the serene view that enveloped it. The river was fairly still although if you really stared you could see the ripples probably caused by fish beneath. I wondered what the view would be like from under there. Of course I didn’t jump in. 

After a few moments we headed back down to get a good seat, not for the sunset itself as the cave had actually hidden the sun from view, but for what was about to happen afterwards. It was a bat cave so we were there to see the bats fly out in their thousands once the sun had set. 

While we were waiting I got chatting to an English guy about his travels. I discovered that this guy, Toby Smith, was not a mere traveller like myself but a professional who was working with the NGO Fauna and Flora International to write articles on and capture pictures of biodiversity in the area that was or could be in danger. I was naturally fascinated by him and learnt that he had worked with the BBC and The Guardian, he had followed a cuckoo from the UK to central Africa, he was 35, he had a newly born son who he missed very much, and he knew a lot about bats. I wish I had written down all the bat facts he had entertained me with whilst I waited for the main event but I can remember one. Bats caves are very often known to have several species that have yet to be discovered, this is because in bat caves a whole eco system can exist only through bat shit. The bats fly out of the cave and take in nutrients that are not otherwise found in the cave, they then shit out those nutrients and other animals, such as bugs, snakes, crabs, who never leave the cave, feed of the shit and evolve in a completely isolated way, where they only depend on bat shit and thus new species are created. Who knew - bat shit cray! 

By now the sun had completely set and it was almost pitch black. We waited a little longer and were rewarded with a stream of bats leaving the cave and disappearing into the night. It doesn’t sound like much but it was incredible to behold. I had never seen a bat before, let alone thousands glide right in front of me only to disappear within seconds. They were too quick and too dark to keep your eye on but you would just see and hear their wings flutter by. We sat and watched in amazement. I couldn’t believe this day had really been mine to experience, it had just been wonderful. I wanted to capture every moment of it in a bottle; that kind of technology being out of reach yet the next best thing was to write about it. 

[phoenixtakaramono]

G&G - ch15 (Sneak Peek)

Story: Green and Gold (AO3)

By: PhoenixTakaramono

Summary: Due to the newest crop of alleged Death Eater sightings overseas, British Division Head Auror, Lord Harry Potter, was sent to Muggle Japan to thwart the renegade from performing another Dark Resurrection Ritual on a sacred site, thereby from desecrating a national magical monument―the Bone Eater’s Well. For his troubles he lands himself as the minder of a 500-or-so year-old dog daiyoukai his magic tore from a distant past. Aloof and flexible morals aside, he doesn’t know what to make of the feudal lord and sovereign. Yet. Similarly, Sesshomaru cannot help but be intrigued. In the meantime, a storm is brewing in both eras, both in the magical UK and magical Japan…and perhaps even in Europe or America itself.

Main Pairing: Harry James Potter/ Lord Sesshomaru

One minute he was falling, his heart lodged into his throat like stone. He was plummeting down a black hole, with no end in sight. Arms and legs were outstretched.

The next vision he saw was a world of green that reminded him of Scotland’s lush greenery, with everything dwarfing him in size all of a sudden. He was on his hands and feet. All this he took into stride. He accepted the naturalness of his lowered elevation calmly. It felt like leaves and shrubbery—their distinctive shape flashing in and out of his mind—were brushing alongside his face and sides of his body as he advanced forth to a sightless goal.

Every inch of his senses were sharpened to a vibrant degree, he felt lightheaded. Blades of grass, wet and adhesive to the touch, were crunching underneath quiet footfalls. Crickets were chirping their songs incessantly.

A brown, blurry shape darted across the top of his palm. It became a rabbit, scampering off into the horizon and disappearing into the full moon.

And then he was in a desert, desolate and long. He didn’t feel the heat—nor did he sweat—but he could understand that it was hot. From far away, with an eagle’s precision he could spot a solitary figure journeying alone. With the cacti strewn in the scenic background, their silhouettes painted dark brushstrokes across the plateaus that had the coloring of a multilayered chocolate cake inside. He understood the person he’d been gazing at was himself.

When he looked, there was now a plume of smoke slicing the sky, which he knew was evidence of civilization or a large campsite. It was decided that it was both.

As natural as it was to breathe, another change of scenery happened.

Ahead in the distance, looming like a fortress was a domed sweathouse constructed entirely of mud and bleached hay that looked dry to the touch. There, a great inky mass—wound tightly into an oblong ball—was atop the primitive construction. The shape of the mass was indistinguishable aside from its color and its enormousness. It was as if someone had balled up the night sky and put it there for everyone to admire.

He didn’t know how he could tell, but there was something to its shape that suggested the curl of a tail. What little moonlight that struck through the clouds gave a cold glimmer to the tips of the coat, suggesting a fur pelt that reminded him of the texture of the grasslands from the Forbidden Forest.

Surrounding the sweathouse itself, like a giant snake chasing its tail, was a moat. And wading in the moat were various persons, each of them thin and robed in black. All bore indistinguishable features. Instead, their faces were all adorned in masks that seem to obscure their heads.

A cold sensation washed over him. They were just there, as if they’d always been there. They were proceeding to the sweathouse slowly, ceremoniously. By now, the back of their heads were pale pinpricks. The image of a skull flashed through his mind, and an intense fear swept through him.

The bite of cold reached his ankles. He found himself ankle-deep in water. His socks and shoes were sodden, the hem of his trousers stuck to his skin.

When he peeked down, he could see his reflection, as well as the white dots that blotted the expanse above as far as the eye could see, with clouds partially covering the big disk staring down at him over his shoulder.

It was him. Just him and the remnant of his cursed scar, and the combined weight of his cloak and his wands and the ring on his finger which’d joined the rest. His heart was thudding against his chest. No other figures were mirrored upside-down in sight. Ripples soon broke the surface, distorting the image.

Mirrored back from the murky depths was a man of a stoic expression, bearing flaxen hair and bright amber eyes. Instinctively, he knew this was not his face.

His fingers curved. It was the holly wand this time that was now being grasped in his right hand.

As if someone had thrown a Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder as a smokescreen, his vision went dark. There only remained his sense of touch, smell, and hearing, all of them enhanced to levels of richness that threatened to crush him. Suffocating him.

The earth was trembling beneath his feet. Soon, he realized with confusion, it was someone shaking him by the shoulder, calling his name. His eyelids felt like heavy weights. His body was an anchor sunk to the bottom bed of a lake. After a few moments, with long eyelashes fluttering helplessly against his cheeks, he awoke to a blinding sight.

#Harry Potter #sesshomaru #inuyasha #animagus #dreams #crossover #fanfiction #green and gold #ch15 #sneak peak #experimental writing #it's more symbolism #think of it as an obligatory dream sequence #I may alter this later in the final draft #I took a Neuroscience of Imagination class once #I learned many things about dreams #so now I realize how much harder it is #to write an authentic dream sequence in stories #this is my attempt #btw this is in HP's POV #featured #phoenixtakaramono #dunno how I feel about this tbh