#and this time they were banished for speaking peace which would make sense from an odin who just wanted to conquer the realms

[littleblackraincloudofcourse]

Verna my beloved raven

I've seen a lot of ideas about who or what Verna truly is. Most have compared her to Death or the Grimm Reaper because she caused most of (some would say all of) the deaths of the Ushers. I don't fully agree with this simply because Death doesn't make deals and Death doesn't stop for or hurry for anyone. Death comes for all things in their time without emotion There is no reason for death to have offered them anything. There is also no reason for death to offer the kindness of a peaceful end.

The other idea I see the most is that Verna is a sort of crossroads demon. This idea does make more sense to me considering the kind of people she had been seen with throughout time and the deal she made with Roderick and Madeleine. Three things about that don't fit to me. First the way she trys to ease things for the children (except Fredrick but fuck him), she gives them a chance to walk away and have peaceful deaths closer to what she gave Lenore. Which brings me to point two, Lenore. What reason would a crossroads demon have to share all the good that Lenore had done and the lives she would save before giving her a peaceful instant death? The third thing is when the deal was first made, Roderick ask if its his soul he would be trading. Verna says souls aren't real but "If they were you already sold your earlier tonight when you killed Rufus Griswold". If this was a demon what did they gain from this deal?

I believe Verna is neither demon nor Death but the Devil herself. Verna is the fallen angel Lucifer. What she offered the Ushers, what she seems to have offered those before is the ultimate test of free will. What would you do with unlimited wealth or power? She never forced them or manipulated them. Every evil thing they did was entirely their choice. She even points this out to Madeleine when they meet and talks about all the terrible things humanity does to one another without her having to interfere. Then there is her decision with Pym about his trip. She says she came "topside" to see what they did. She knows the people they sacrificed along the way, even what part he played in these deaths. She even laments the injustice that corruptions like Fourtonato never face any real consequences for their actions. When she showed Roderick his true legacy she makes it clear those deaths where his alone, she played no part. But most of all her attempt at mercy for the children. They're doomed to day anyway but she tries to ease their pain. Taking Lenore seems to break her heart. She tries to explain to Perry that he's done enough. She gives the others chances to be honest, make amends or just walk away and be a peace. Exect Fredrick (that piece of shit) he made his choice the minute he starts mistreating his wife. Verna never interacted with him until his death because the decision was already made. The worse their behavior, the less of a chance she gave them for peace. She also never interacts with Auggie. He sees her but she doesn't offer him anything or even speak to him. She knows he would never make a deal like that.

There is a karmic balance to everything Verna does. One that fit the role of a reaper or demon. But the angel who was banished for questioning GOD? The angel who questioned free will itself. The angle made devil that everyone blames for the every bad decision they make. That seems like someone who would be interested in how things would play out and still be disappointed they didn't make better choices.

#verna #carla gugino #the raven #the fall of the house of usher #mike flanagan #tfothou spoilers #just my opinion #my new hyperfixation #forever obsessed

[th3casscad3]

An Angel In Hell..

A Fallen Angel Emily X Male Reader.

After The Meeting In Heaven, Emilys Questions And Comments Were Getting Out Of Hand. At This Rate Emily Would Tell All Of Hevean About What's Really Happening Between Heaven And Hell. Sera Couldn't Have That. She Wouldn't Have That, So She Did The Only Thing She Thought Would Protect Her. She Banished Emily To Hell.

Warning/Triggers: Banishment, Rejection From Hevean, Hell.

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

Emily Wouldn't Stand For Sera Rejecting Angel Dust Of Being Redeemable. He Had Proven His Worth, That Demons Could Change. Why Would Sera See That. Why Would Sera Allow The Exterminations. It Didnt Make Sense.. Every Time Emily Asked Sera About It, She Would Just Turn It Down And Ignore Her. Over Time This Really Started To Affect Emily. She Became A Problem To Sera. She Became A Dreamer Like Lucifer. She Saw The Good In The Demons And Talked About How Everyone Could Live In Peace, In Harmony. Emily Dreamed Of A World Where Hevean And Hell Could Unite And Be One. As Emily Kept Dreaming, Sera Only Grew More Anxious. Sera Knew That If She Didnt Stop Emily Soon All Of Hevean Would Know Of The Exterminations And Hevean Would Be In Shambles. No. Sera Just Coulnt Have That.. So One Day, Emily Was Banished From Heaven. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------- Emily Opened Her Eyes To Find Herself Falling. She Tried To Use Her Wings But They Wouldnt Budge. Eventually She Found Herself In The Very Pits Of Hell. Her Eyes Widen And Her Heart Picked Up Speed. She Caught Herself Before She Fell, Using Her Wings To Help. " No.. no no no no! I Have To Get Back Up There! I Have To Tell- " Emily Was Quickly Cut Off With A Group Of Demons Running To Attack Her. She Screamed And Flew Off Quickly. She Knew She Wasnt Safe Here. With Ever Turn And Look Around All She Saw Was Fire, Blood, And Demons Either Fighting, Doing Drugs Or Being Intimate. The Sounds Of Hell Was Enough To Make Emily Panick. She Just Kept Flying. She Wanted To Believe This Was All Just A Bad Dream, That She Would Wake Up In The Morning And Be In Hevean Again. As She Was Flying She Saw The Fiant Sight Of A Hotel.. The Hazbin Hotel. Yes. She Thought. If She Could Get To Charlie, She Could Probably Speak To Lucifer Too! She Quickly Dashed Over And Knocked On The Door. To Her Surprise, It Wasnt Charlie Who Answered The Door. It Was You. Sera Gave You A Gentle Yet Panicked Smile. "Hello.. May I Come In. Please. Im Looking For Princess Charlie. " Emily Fiddled With Her Fingers And Tucked Her Wings In. You Smiled And Extended Your Hand Out For Her. She Looked You In The Eyes And Took It With A Smile. You Helped Her In And Closed The Door Behind Her. " Charlie Isnt Here At The Moment But She Will Be Soon. Let Me Guess... Fallen Angel? " You Gave Her A Warm Smile, You Could See It In Her Eyes That She Was New And In A State Of Panick. That, And It Was Obvious She Was An Angel. " Yes, But I Know About The Exterminations And I Dont Stand For Them! Which Is Why I Really Need To Talk To Charlie! " Emily Spoke With A Stern Tone. " You Must Be Emily Then, Charlie Speaks Highly Of You. I Admire You. You Stood With Charlie In Front Of A Whole Court! That Was SO BADASS! Ha! I Could Only Imagine How Scary That Must Of Felt, To Stand Up For What You Think Is Right Even When Nobody Else Agrees. Its Tough Shit. " Emily Looks At You With A Touched Expression She Smiles Again And Grabs Your Hand. " I Want All Of You To Be Redeemed, It Isnt Fair. Everybody Makes Mistakes. Some.. Bigger Than Others But Still! Everyone Deserves A Second Chance! And.. I Just Know They Are Keeping Something From Me.. They Banished Me For Dreaming About Untiy And Peace. For Wanting Something Greater Than Just Fighting.. But Why.. " Emily Kept Her Hand In Yours, It Was Comforting To Say The Least. You Simply Smiled. You Could Understand That Emily Was Going Through A Lot Right Now And Based On Charlie's Lessons You Know That Its Better To Be There As Comfort. So You Did. You And Emily Talked For Hours, Going Back And Forth About Hevean And Hell. You Discussed What You Thought Was Considered Good And Evil. You Talked About How Much You Hated The Exterminations Too! You Both Discovered That You Shared A Lot In Common. You Felt Yourself Wanting To Be There For Emily All The Time. She Was A Angel That Knew Very Little On Hell And You Vowed To Protect Her At All Cost. You Both Talked Until You Fell Asleep On The Couch, Hand In Hand.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel x reader #emily hazbin hotel #fallen angel #I think this sucks #ill redo it soon #need some inspiration

[theworldbrewery]

I just finished a 5 year long campaign on Saturday. I would describe myself as a hardass on the rules, up to the point that something worked within larger thematic parameters in the setting.

In practice, this meant that the game began with me being very strict on rules. Some things, like carrying capacity, were not worth tracking (especially once they got a bag of holding), but other rules, both official and house-rules, I kept to very closely. As the PCs became more powerful, I started offering them brief opportunities when something important wasn't going to go their way. Memorably, when a PC was about to die by mind flayer and lose her brain and drop concentration on the spell that was holding the boss monster at bay, I asked how badly she wanted to survive, and allowed her to make a sacrifice: the goddesses of luck had a problem with her using her Wild Magic subclass abilities to manipulate her fortune, so she gave up her subclass in exchange for surviving the attack (and got a new subclass later obviously).

This type of scenario worked because I established the possibility of 'trading' a consequence for a desirable outcome -- borrowing from other systems a little bit, where you can succeed at a cost. It fit into the mechanics and flavor of the Wild Magic sorcerer's abilities, but it broadened over time to include anyone willing to make a deal and give something up to get what they wanted.

That practice brought us to an underdark adventure where they found the place where sacrifices 'go,' metaphorically speaking, and set the stage for the finale in which the PCs broke with fate altogether and ascended to godhood to fight Bane to the death. I worked with them to build divine statblocks and what mattered most was the exchange. The sense of loss, thematically, that comes from achieving great feats of power that should be impossible. It builds on the most basic ideas of making sacrifices to a god to receive their support, and of destroying components to cast powerful spells, and turns them into a larger framework of magic and power.

But I still expected them to use spell components, and take fall damage, and remember you can't stack advantage or temporary hit points.

Once they ascended to godhood I relaxed the rules somewhat, to let them savor the power they'd gotten. But as mortal beings those rules represent their vulnerabilities, their relative weakness, the risks and rewards of adventuring. I always considered it necessary for my own peace of mind to be clear on the rules and on the interactions of mechanics, from the limits of dark vision and which hexes could be affected by a spell, but it also empowered me to be more flexible with the rules when specific, thematic moments came into play.

Rule of Cool can get weak when you rely too heavily on it. It takes away the stakes, which kills the fun. But this version of "Rule of Cool" expected the players to open themselves up to risk and change -- trying and failing to wake up a cursed archfey led the group's cleric to give up all his memories before the age of 10, trying to force an enemy to fail her Banishment saving throw made the bard swear to protect the cleric with their life (and be compelled to do so). The losses they suffered weren't punishments, but opportunities: what new subclass does the sorcerer take, and why? Do you throw yourself in front of a blow that would kill the cleric?

The role-play moments that resulted, the twists in the tale, were worth it, every single time.

I didn't accept pure mechanical sacrifices: the gods don't care about your melee weapon attack modifier. They had to give up something that mattered to the character. To understand what sacrifice really is.

And they sacrificed themselves, in the end.

#and then they got cool divine statblocks and kicked ass! i should share some of those god stats tho it rips #the ivory collective #d&d #actual play #ttrpgs #dungeons and dragons

[fakesurprise]

A Small Town, One Evening

Some days, I would like to spend a week inside a tree. The healing of a tree is a deep, slow thing, a giving and gift all at once. Today I have half an hour, enough to help the roots dig deeper, to let the earth about it breathe. No one in the park notices when I exit the tree, bark flowing back into skin. A few children look over as I walk to the swing set, sensing something they don’t have words for.

The parents look at me, but aren’t worried. I look normal: I put a lot of effort into normal. I run my fingers over the swing set, and the magic dances from me into it. Some rust will slough off, a few old screws gain new life. It will last another three years, rather than four months.

I check my phone and leave: a useful trick, as most people do this. The old stone wall around the park is half-eaten by moss, and I pause long enough to give the stone and moss a little balance. The sidewalls calls next, and a sewer line. That takes more effort to reach from up here, but I pretend to take a call for twenty minutes while doing so.

I wander, from street to street. Wards up on one home against anger from inside it. A garbage door locks that wouldn’t lock. Need. Desire. Will. The magic a poem that dances to my will. One street. Another. A third. Halfway down the fourth street I find a subway sandwich forgotten in a bag and eat it. A magician gives: the universe gives back.

I circle the town slowly. Aiding small things, nudging others. Finding one creature from Outside the universe that has been pretending to be a fox. I gently approach it.

“I won’t banish you,” I say, and one of my talents is to speak truth that can’t be ignored.

It slips out of shadows: six eyes, dark fur, two tails. Scared, which made it dangerous.

“The Deep School can help you; they teach other Outsiders how to find ways to fit into the universe.”

There is a shed near us, and I open the door to another place. The creature runs through and I close it and continue walking.

Rain falls, though not quite on me. I improve the tires of a skidding car, cross the sidewalk to head back to the hotel.

Neither Charlie nor Jay have called me, so it means the game of go fish they were playing hasn’t gone sideways. Yet.

I slow my pace, just relaxing with the world. Small magics, little things: if I had my way, no one would ever notice I was a magician. But magic seldom allows that. There are prices to being the wandering magician of an era; that no one mentioned them only increased them.

But nights like this. Days like it. Sometimes they make everything else worth it.

All joy carries its own sorrow, my magic whispers.

Everything does that is beginnings and endings, I reply in silence.

I keep walking. We’ll head south, from here. Offer what we can as aid.

Some things are too big for magic. Most things are. But the magic can help, even just a little bit. Breathing room. Spaces. Moments.

It can’t for me, but I made my peace with that a long time ago.

#writing #prose #magician series

[un-pearable]

I HAVE RETURNED WITH SEASON 11 THOUGHTS. yes. i finally stopped what was a completely unprompted several week long procrastination for no reason at all.

ok first things first: not a fan of the 11 minute episode format!!!! i want my b plots back!!!!!!! its not fine but whatever i'll survive. number two this season was a little all over the place and definitely couldve benefited from being two separate seasons just because the first and second halves are so entirely disconnected from each other but its not the end of the world.

it is now time to talk about one of my most favorite things about ninjago ever: namely, the COMPLETELY INCOMPREHENSIBLE TIMELINE. following in the footsteps of the last writers, whoever has taken the reigns this season has carried on the age old tradition of sticking dates onto the ninjago timeline that make it more convoluted than beforehand. its wonderful. its delightful. i dont think ive ever seen a messier timeline in any piece of media in my entire life. the timeline was broken from the literal beginning between lloyd's existence & wu's flashback to garmadon getting banished to the underworld or whatever and it Just Got Worse. (no for real that entire thing is so terribly funny its like. ok garmadon got banished to the underworld when they were both presumably young adults maybe (???) so logically lloyd had to have been born sometime around there but when we meet him lloyd is probably like somewhere from 8-13 years old and wu and garmadon and misako are Very Old. and its just. so funny. its so funny. THAT ASIDE)

so back to the latest edits to the timeline. evil snake lady claims that wu betrayed her thousands of years ago. so wu is thousands of years old, but is also presumably somewhere around kai and nya's parents' ages given that they all seemed to be young adults at the time. which was also in ancient ninjago times and also like 50 years ago max. does it make sense? no of course not its the ninjago timeline. it gets even better though, because we are now introduced to the concept that … allegedly. there was a tenuous peace that existed for millenia between the serpentine and humans pre-wu & garmadon almost screwing that over so bad. and we can reasonably assume that the serpentine were created along with the rest of ninjago, so …… did the fsm just create garmadon & wu a few thousand years after chilling out in ninjago for a while? who knows. least of all me.

actually speaking of the first spinjitzu master i want to complain for a minute because i hate this guy. frankly i dont think he was a very good dad. i dont even think he was a mediocre dad. in fact i think he was a pretty crappy parent. like. like okay evidence number one: look at his children. the amount of mental illness there is unreal. you cannot look at wu and garmadon and tell me that the fsm was any sort of decent at parenting. like… ok im 99.9% sure they did not have a mom, which would imply that the fsm created them himself. which would FURTHER imply that, for some completely and entirely incomprehensible reason, he gave garmadon mostly (??? im still really unclear on this but we've gone through that) oni blood and wu mostly (??? see above) dragon blood. instead of, yknow, giving them half and half. to get more clear: he specifically screwed over garmadon for no reason. also it should be noted that even after wu and garmadon have found out that the evil snake lady is evil and 10000% intends to use spinjitzu to kill everybody they still dont tell the fsm about any of it because they fear his reaction more than they do the consequences of this. they go behind his back and use an expressly forbidden technique to clean up this mess because, again, they fear his reaction more than any of the other consequences. i do not think he was a good parent at all.

back in like season 2 garmadon says that wu was always the fsm's favorite and honestly i believe it given whatever the heck is going on with their blood, but its quite unfortunate that even the favored son still got massively screwed over by the fsm because said fsm SUCKS and is a TERRIBLE PARENT. like at some undefined point prior to the anacondrai drama the fsm just up and leaves for no reason in particular and like. wow. the guy really did just make one of his sons evil by default and then when it got worse he ditched and and dumped the responsibility of cleaning that up onto his younger son, thereby forcing him to send his brother to hell and traumatizing him for life. okay. thanks first spinjitzu master. and if that wasnt enough he then drops back in 50000 years later to try to drag lloyd off to who knows where and then immediately ditches again. his entire lineage is just mental illness: the family. i dont think that the fsm was like. actively trying to be an atrocious parent or anything but i do firmly believe he was grossly neglecting his duties as a father and was in general incredibly distant and unhelpful and probably spent more time getting mad at his children than anything else. tldr i hate the first spinjitzu master. i hate him so much.

anyways lets talk about wu for a minute while we're on the topic. i think its incredibly interesting that he wanted to 1) turn himself into snake lady whose name escapes me at the moment despite the fact that its pretty clear she wouldnt have stopped at just getting back at him and 2) go by himself to save zane when he had absolutely no way of getting home and knew it. frankly i would not be surprised if there was some amount of suicidal ideation / martyr complex going on there. in other news i am SO delighted 1) we got a garmadon and wu flashback. huge win for tumblr user iratusmus and 2) wu got to be the bad influence this time because that is so terribly funny. i think wu should want to do things he's not allowed to do more often. i support it. also, tangentially related: i know john mulaney is cancelled now or whatever but this is really just wu in a nutshell

and since i've already mentioned him, lets go ahead and talk about zane for a minute. i am…….. honestly incredibly disappointed with ice emperor zane like. the biggest problem here is that they didnt really do anything interesting with it - its never really relevant that its zane specifically who has become the ice emperor outside of 1) elemental power and 2) so that we can turn him to our side. like… it doesnt really have any connection to his past or even like. okay earlier in the season while lloyd, nya, and zane are trying to steal the other forbidden scroll of spinjitzu (im going to talk about that briefly in a second but we'll hold off on it for a minute) they come across a mirror that shows the onlooker's worst fears - lloyd's is becoming lord garmadon, nya's is failure/never amounting to anything in life, and zane's is losing his humanity. so you'd think that in an arc where zane gets corrupted they'd try it play into that but…. no. because even if the ninjago writers are new, it wouldnt be ninjago if we didn't set up a million concepts that couldve been really interesting if they had been properly explored and then we drop all of that to take the most boring route humanly possible. thank you, ninjago writers.

brief commentary on the forbidden scrolls of spinjitzu: i am SO confused on 1) why the fsm wrote them down. like bestie if you, specifically, are the one who forbade this, WHY ARE YOU WRITING IT DOWN!!!!!!!!! I HATE YOU 2) how sticking them on a staff gives you an incredible amount of power. not even like. reading it or something. doing what it says on the writing. just the concept of holding it gives you power. hello ? 3) why it can banish people to the never realm if used in a certain way. they didnt even try to explain this one at all and im so confused about it. also, if it can banish people to the never realm, why cant it transport people across other realms? many questions, no answers.

ok back to this season's villains: lets talk about SNAKE LADY! in all honesty i dont have that much to say shes kinda a mid villain but at least shes a girlboss so i'll take what i can get. motivations are kind of lacking but whatever. i do really wish the writers would commit on whether or not its valid to be racist to serpentine. as a general rule im very much against demonizing an entire species/race/family as a result of "youre the children of [x] so you are born horrible and anybody who treats you poorly because of that is right" bc it reeks of racism and is incredibly supportive of unfounded prejudice and so on and so forth but like. ok if youre going to do that. the least you can do is STICK WITH IT!!!!!!! its literally like "ohhh the serpentine are evil" "ohhhhh condemning all the serpentine by virtue of their blood is actually kind of racist!" "ohhhhhh wu was so stupid for trusting that snake he shouldve been racist from the start" MAKE UP YOUR MIND. PLEASE. im not asking for much.

i also didnt like how they kind of tried to give zane's power to nya its like. ….. ok look i get it we've all watched atla if you can control water logically you should be able to control ice. HOWEVER. since you have decided that these are two separate elements you need to KEEP it that way because otherwise whats the point of having zane's power if nya is just going to take it. they didnt quite go that far but they were sort of angling for it and i dont like it. please give the women something of their own to do instead of just taking each other's (see: pixal becoming samurai x (actually unrelated but technically shouldnt it be ronin x given that nya/pixal dont serve a feudal master) instead of making up her own thing to do) or taking the men's (whatever the heck was going on this season with nya and ice). but whatever.

miscellaneous thoughts

akita is cool i support wolfgirls. i dont really have any deeper thoughts on her than this but i would like to see her again

didnt like how they brought back the giant hairy eyeball for a useless filler episode and had pixal beat it completely by herself, thereby cheapening the entirety of season 5 (or whatever season it was)

and. of course. this wouldnt be a proper season 11 review if i didnt talk about the literal most important part of the entire thing. that is right.

super saiyan jay.

so yeah. season couldve been better but honestly super saiyan jay makes up for everything wrong the ninjago writers have ever done

my apologies for the v e r y late reply this weekend was hw hell. but i did learn my favorite heartwrenching fact about neanderthals so :] small wins. absolutely THRILLED to see these in my inbox let's goooo

b-plots how i miss you... hate hate hate that the 11 minute episode is default now in animation, it works well for some shows (having watched all of SU through - yeah it works, but only really well for shows with very specific scopes, and ninjago is nothing BUT vastly outsizing its own scope)... having just finished rewatching s1 all in one sitting holy crap does the b-plot do so much heavy lifting for making the story actually work. s1 is. a mess. but it genuinely does so much better at foreshadowing than i expected and the ability to juggle multiple plot points in a single episode is SUCH a loss for the later seasons... the netflix season chopper curse my beloathed. nothing else to say there we both know we've experienced vld

yes!!! kudos to the team for fuckin it up even worse than archie sonic i love it to bits. we've got time loops we've got alternate realities we've got immortal(ish) old guys with fucky aging and a kid with even fuckier aging and retconned in hereditary superpowers. we've got every possible "what the fuck thats not how that works-" moment imaginable and it's stunning. everything about wu and garmadon's childhood (if you can call the implied thousands of years where they looked like kids/teenagers that) is fascinating to me and i am thrilled to find out how the spinjitzu brothers books fuck it up even more. the bad luck these guys gotta have for all their positive relationships dying out (humans :() and making all their enemies out of psuedo-immortal weirdos who can hold a hell of a grudge.

tangentially related yess obsessed with the FSM's pioneering fatherly shittiness. first dad worst dad. objectively better than if he was an actively good dad or was genuinely trying to harm his kids this is just what happens when god has zero positive role models. or role models at all. and deals with his complex feelings about his heritage with baby creation. idk the way they handle garmadon's morality is utterly deranged and i love to see them repeatedly shoot themselves in the foot trying to justify him being ~evil all along~ this honestly does more to explain why wu is. like that. than anything about garmadon adjfaksd. all this aside using this entire segment as my ref for my never-to-see-the-light-of-day spinjitzu bros fic thank you for having the wu and garmadon thoughts of all time <3

wu and zane.... i will never get over them. as previously mentioned i just finally finished rewatching s1 with Intent and ohhhh boy do i have infinite emotions over them and while 99% of it is extrapolation it is so incredibly sweet how much wu genuinely cared about zane and his lack of memory and how much he tries to comfort him. meanwhile all of that goes over zane's head bc he is. very bad at understanding his + others emotions at the time and most of the stuff wu is trying to help him with either hasn't registered or zane isnt even close to being able to put words to it much less internalize someone else's attempt to help. all this for wu to disappear on the brother acquisition mission for two weeks and come back to him being Completely Fine And Cool Cuz I'm A Robot Master :D. theres no way wu has any idea what a robot is in s1 and im living for it fuck the retcons. man's bewildered and his pseudo son (mark III) is Overcompensating.

my eternal inability to shut up about zane aside. all that to say wu's eagerness to make Terrible decisions in this part? stunning. the squandered potential of the ice emperor? i could complain about this for weeks. and have done so much to my discord friends chagrin. thank you for validating me AND reminding me to be infuriated. i will go read seven fics about it and have equally strong opinions about those (one day i will write the nature v nurture themed zane fic that lives in my brain and only contribute to this problem). uh. where was i going

LITERALLY YEAH?? ive never seen ANYONE bring up the complete nonsense of the staff and it's abilities WHY does it get magic cheatcodes to the ninjago multiverse. why did they not take the chance to make a joke about chima again. the world may never know

serpentine racism... once again the most common of kids media "everyone in this group is Evil bc we need punching bags" consequences and entirely unanswered. the early seasons imply the skulkins just integrated into everyday life and like half the snakes are just chilling... if you can accept the whole ass skeletons why are we still conflicted about pythor girlboss edition. tangentially: i am now obsessed w/ the idea of pixal stealing ronin's identity bc she was being pedantic about the definition of samurai. do it girl dude doesn't stand a chance.

THE ANIME EPISODE.... i have unwittingly entered the orbit of dragon ball fandom and i am SO excited to torture my brother who's a fan with this one it's such. it's so. it's beyond words. i've seen people hate on this and they are SO wrong this is exactly what ninjago has always been. utterly bonkers and doing whatever the hell they want.

#text✨ #liveninjablogging #ninjago #HELLO BELOVED MUTUAL TYSM FOR THIS. AGAIN. these remain the highlights of the entire fandom for me tysssssm #also extremely funny to me how much of our linguistic patterns are bleeding over onto each other through these. formatting aside #once again. the opinions of all time

[princeofgod-2021]

LIGHT OF LIFE 304

John 1:4

UNITY OF THE BODY 7 – SATAN’S FLAW (PRIDE) 2

Eph 4:2-3 ALWAYS BE HUMBEL AND GENTLE. Be patient with each other, MAKING ALLOWANCE FOR EACH OTHER’S FAULTS because of your love. MAKE EVERY EFFORT TO KEEP YOURSELVES UNITED, BINDING YOURSELVES TOGETHER WITH PEACE. GW

By God’s grace, I’ve been trying to show you from scriptures that satan’s real war in heaven was not directed against God – which was utterly senseless – but against God’s Unified Church, which had just been born through the resurrection of Jesus from death. You must remember that he killed Jesus “the Son of Man”, thinking that would end or at least, disrupt God’s programme of redemption for Humanity.

1Co 2:7-8 We speak of God's hidden and mysterious wisdom that God decided to use for our glory long before the world began. THE RULERS OF THIS WORLD DIDN'T KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT THIS WISDOM. IF THEY HAD KNOWN ABOUT IT, THEY WOULD NOT HAVE NAILED THE GLORIOUS LORD TO A CROSS. CEV

So, with satan’s mistake, he lost the key to hell, implying that he couldn’t prevent the resurrection of Redeemed Men, who would make up the Church and must follow Jesus, the Firstborn from death.

Heb 12:22-23 But you have come to Mount Zion and to the city of the living God, the heavenly Jerusalem, and to an innumerable company of angels, TO THE GENERAL ASSEMBLY AND CHURCH OF THE FIRST-BORN WHO ARE WRITTEN IN HEAVEN, and to God the judge of all, and to the spirits of just men made perfect, MKJV

satan's passion to scatter God’s plan started from creation of Humanity, in the garden of Eden, where he tempted Eve and made them eat the forbidden fruit.

Right then, disunity evolved between the couple.

Gen 3:12 The man said, “THE WOMAN WHOM YOU GAVE ME, SHE GAVE ME SOME FRUIT FROM THE TREE AND I ATE IT.” NET

One other secret you need to know is that the Fruit of knowledge, which they ate, aside from influence Mr. Flesh, also had the side-effect of producing Pride and arrogance in Man, which is satan’s pitfall.

1Co 8:1 Now, concerning what you wrote about food offered to idols. IT IS TRUE, OF COURSE, THAT "ALL OF US HAVE KNOWLEDGE," AS THEY SAY. SUCH KNOWLEDGE, HOWEVER, PUFFS A PERSON UP WITH PRIDE; BUT LOVE BUILDS UP. GNB

That impact played out when Cain killed his brother Abel. A sense of competition started within man.

Gen 4:4-5,8 Abel also brought some choice parts of the firstborn animals from his flock. THE LORD APPROVED OF ABEL AND HIS OFFERING, BUT HE DIDN'T APPROVE OF CAIN AND HIS OFFERING. SO CAIN BECAME VERY ANGRY AND WAS DISAPPOINTED…Cain talked to his brother Abel. Later, when they were in the fields, CAIN ATTACKED HIS BROTHER ABEL AND KILLED HIM. GW

You must also notice something, beloved: each time satan’s plot against man succeeded, man received sentences similar to satan’s.

Banishment is one major sentence; first with Adam and Eve from Eden.

Gen 3:23-24 SO THE LORD GOD FORCED THE MAN OUT OF THE GARDEN OF EDEN TO WORK THE GROUND HE WAS MADE FROM. God forced the man to leave the garden. THEN HE PUT CHERUB ANGELS AND A SWORD OF FIRE AT THE ENTRANCE TO THE GARDEN TO PROTECT IT. The sword flashed around and around, guarding the way to the tree of life. BBE

Then with Cain, after he killed his brother Abel.

Gen 4:11-12 SO NOW, YOU ARE BANISHED FROM THE GROUND, WHICH HAS OPENED ITS MOUTH TO RECEIVE YOUR BROTHER’S BLOOD FROM YOUR HAND. When you try to cultivate the ground it will no longer yield its best for you. YOU WILL BE A HOMELESS WANDERER ON THE EARTH.” NET

Banishment was what happened to licentious angelic beings who came down to copulate with humans in Gen 6:2-4.

They must have taken on human forms and probably wanted some “fun”.

Jud 1:6 And REMEMBER THE ANGELS WHO LOST THEIR AUTHORITY TO RULE. THEY LEFT THEIR PROPER HOME. SO THE LORD HAS KEPT THEM IN DARKNESS, bound with everlasting chains, to be judged on the great day. ERV

Then with satan and his demonic cohorts. It’s satan’s pleasure to see us suffer what he suffered.

Rev 12:8-9 But the dragon lost the battle. IT AND ITS ANGELS WERE FORCED OUT OF THEIR PLACES IN HEAVEN AND WERE THROWN DOWN TO THE EARTH. Yes, that old snake and his angels were THROWN OUT OF HEAVEN! That snake, who fools everyone on earth, is known as the devil and Satan. CEV

So satan has enjoyed his manipulation of Men from Adam’s fall till Jesus Christ and the Church came up.

2Ti 2:25-26 Then with meekness you’ll be able to carefully enlighten those who argue with you so they can see God’s gracious gift of repentance and be brought to the truth. THIS WILL CAUSE THEM TO REDISCOVER THEMSELVES AND ESCAPE FROM THE SNARE OF SATAN WHO CAUGHT THEM IN HIS TRAP SO THAT THEY WOULD CARRY OUT HIS PURPOSES. TPT

Now the Church becomes the one Instrument that returns men back to God and the Army that will destroy the devil’s kingdom.

That was why satan wanted to “devour” the Church as soon as it is born (as a Baby).

As you saw from scriptures: it wasn’t the Child that fought but Angels defended “it”.

Rev 12:7 THEN WAR BROKE OUT IN HEAVEN. MICHAEL AND HIS ANGELS FOUGHT AGAINST THE DRAGON, who fought back with his angels; GNB

We must know however, that satanic battles still rages on against the Church till the end of time.

Rev 12:17 And the dragon was angry with the woman and went away to make war on THE REST OF HER SEED, WHO KEEP THE ORDERS OF GOD, AND THE WITNESS OF JESUS: BBE

Because the strength of the Church is Love and Unity, too many infiltrators have been posted to Churches to try and ensure that we never have one voice or work together without divisive sentiments.

Gal 2:4 and that was because of FALSE BROTHERS SECRETLY BROUGHT IN (WHO SLIPPED IN TO SPY OUT OUR FREEDOM WHICH WE HAVE IN CHRIST JESUS, SO THAT THEY MIGHT REDUCE US TO SLAVERY), EMTV

They can’t stop the Church and they won’t break us up, in Jesus name.

Join us on Monday for more digging in as we proceed with this enlightening subtopic.

Keep Shinning!

Brother Prince

Friday, January 20, 2022

08055125517; 08023904307

[theotheroccassionalfanficwriter]

I forgot if I sent this request? But Zhongli breeding his bunnyperson lover while they’re in heat?? pleaseee?

Ask and ye shall receive! Yeah, this was the first zhongli breeding request I got so(☞ﾟヮﾟ)☞

-

Dragon at the Top, Rabbit at the Bottom Summary: The first time you invite Zhongli to join you in your heat, he had ran away, years later him joining you for your heat was something that was established without any need for a contract.

--

As the God of Marriage and Harvest, you had no shortage of followers and worshippers. This abundance had greatly contributed to your survival during the Archon Wars and the subsequent fall out of the Tragedy of Khaenri’ah. Of course, your affair with the God of Contracts and Lord of Geo had contributed to your continued survival as the Ancestor of the Rabbit Clan, and Liyue’s God of Marriage and Harvest.

Though you had no qualms in displaying your indomitable strength to those who would challenge you, your lazy nature and natural rabbit inclinations had led you to be neutral towards worldly affairs. In a sense, you had only interacted with the mortal world and fellow gods on a work basis, in mortal terms you were a workaholic god. Where others would have been dissuaded by your nature, Morax had been enamored.

To him, you were dedicated to your worshippers and followers. Your good work ethic was a reflection of your appreciation for following contracts. Simply put, in Morax’ eyes you had no discernable faults thus you were desirable as a lover.

The memory of him appearing right before you in that bamboo forest was one of your most interesting memories. Primarily because it was the first time you had ever seen a dragon come into a rabbit’s den in the middle of their heat. It had brought you endless amusement, seeing Morax’ calm serene eyes marred with panic once the scent of your head began to permeate the air of your den.

The outer sleeves of your hanfu had slipped over, revealing the smooth expanse of your skin, a solid evidence of your life that was devoid of hardships. At the same time it was an evidence of your strength that no one had ever been able to over power you. Your long silk like hair was spread out on the soft cool wood of your den’s floor.

“To what great pleasure, do I owe the Geo Archon to have come to my abode without any invitation?” You greeted him, eyes half-lidded with lust as you maintained control of your lucidity.

“That-I-” Morax stammered as he tried to look away from your enticing form that was sprawled out elegantly on what he could only surmise as your nest, “I would like to invite you to see the first lantern rite with me...however I had been re-” His words faded as his eyes were drawn to the rustle of clothes.

Your inner sash was untangled causing your inner robe to slip down and reveal the smooth expanse of your chest, twin red peaks perked up as you smiled at him, “You were?”

“I wasn’t aware that it was your heat…” He gulped and averted his eyes, the red tips of his ears were the only indication that he was embarrassed.

“I apologize for the intrusion, I’ll be taking my leave.”

“I would not mind if Lord Morax would stay and...help me out in my heat?” You had teasingly offered him, your red eyeliner and red lips added to your seductive charm, the twitch of your long black ears gave you a playful look.

“...” His eyes widened before he abruptly turned around and left in a hurry.

You blinked, surprised at his action before your loud laughter echoed in your den. You sank in your soft nest and hoped to see that sort of expression on his face once more.

In his abode, Morax tried to calm his racing heart, he could feel the heat on his face and the slight hardness in his dick. It was the first time he had ever been exposed to such a potent scent of heat.

“Things must be done in order…” He reminded himself as he tried to banish away the images of your alluring half-naked body from his mind.

And yet as he uttered those words, Morax could not help but remember your soft teasing voice inviting him to experience worldly pleasures. Your soft laughter and this hidden side of you somehow tickled his heart.

Liyue, 3600 Years Later

The soft moans and distinct sound of flesh slapping could be heard loud and clear within the halls of your residence. You made no effort to stifle the sounds of pleasure that Zhongli easily coaxed from your mouth. Your hair was in disarray, a tangled mess that only served to make your naked body even more erotic in Zhongli’s eyes.

Your nipples were red and wet from Zhongli’s earlier ministrations, he was truly good with using his mouth not only in sharing Liyue’s history but also in his ability to apply the exact amount of pleasure necessary to make you come from his bite alone. The twitch of your black rabbit ears with each hard thrust of Zhongli’s hip made him aware of how much you were feeling.

His thick monstrous cock was scraping the insides of your slutty hole, making you arch your body from the pleasure that emanated from each thrust that hit your sensitive spot. Your nails dragged a long line of scratch on Zhongli’s back as you came from another bout of pleasure, instinct driving you to clamp on Zhongli’s cock to ensure that his seed would be buried deep inside you.

You felt his arms hold you as your body was lifted from the soft floor of your nest. The sudden change in position gave you a micro orgasm as the head of his cock brushed past your sensitive spot.

“Why haven’t you come yet?” You mumbled in his ear, softly whining from the lack of his thick come filling you.

You felt, rather than saw, his smirk as he placed a kiss on your shoulder. His dragon part took over from his human self as he answered, “You know that this year’s heat is more potent than the last, if I spilled all of my seed inside you right now you would definitely end up pregnant, my dear.”

His sharpened nails softly went down your back, before settling on your ass cheeks and spreading it, Zhongli continued speaking, “Or is it that you want to bear my children now? Would you like that, changing from the God of Marriage and Harvest into the God of Marriage and Childbirth?”

His soft sultry voice made your insides twitch in interest, your breathing becoming hard as the next onslaught of heat came again.

“Shut u-!”

Zhongli had lifted you up and slammed you into his dick, causing you to moan and once again sink into the haze of lust. Saliva dripped down the sides of your mouth as Zhongli repeatedly slammed you, in time with him raising his hips, into his cock doubling the pleasure you felt with each thrust that had you moaning lewdly.

Each thrust had you begging him for more, uncaring of the lewd face you were making which was a far cry from your usual composed face. You no longer knew nor cared for what you were asking from Zhongli, your mind was only focused on his thick cock that repeatedly slammed inside you, hitting your sensitive spot again and again, each thrust throwing your mind deeper into the haze of lust.

Zhongli’s grunts and moans mixed with the squelch of your wet hole as his cock impaled you again and again, scraping your insides and making you long for the feeling of his thick seed.

His hand went up to your tail and squeezed it, making you moan louder just as he thrusted into you before letting a thick load of cum inside your hole right as you came. You cried his name, your arms reaching out for him, wanting to be held as you rode out your orgasm.

And Zhongli, the perfect lover that he was, obliged and held you close to his chest. Opting to rest for a moment as he kept his cock sheathed inside you. He kissed you softly on your mouth while his hands wandered through the smooth expanse of your body feeling its softness before it settled in the dip of your waist.

“Mhmm...You’re already loose enough for my next form…” Zhongli told you and you hummed softly, baring your neck as you felt him transform his body to ensure that he would be able to breed you.

Had you been outside your heat, you would have flushed over Zhongli’s handsome form, one he wore in public as Rex Lapis, but with the heat clouding your reason you could only position yourself invitingly to him. Spreading your legs wide and lewdly inviting him to take you, to breed you with all his might.

Gone was the mortal shell he wore, adorned on top of his head were two horns, his pupils had turned into the slits of a dragon, his teeth had gone sharp, his hand up until his forearm had turned into the smooth scale of a dragon.

His dick had grown thicker and longer, split into two and both were leaking thick droplets of cum that had you biting your lips in anticipation.

“Yánwáng Dìjūn” You called him sweetly, arms outstretched for an embrace and Zhongli sank into your wet hole and into your embrace.

He inhaled the scent of your heat and pheromones that smelled like sandalwood, a comforting scent that never went away from the days before the Archon Wars and its aftermath. This was your scent that never failed to bring him peace, an everlasting scent that lingered for decades.

He moaned at the clench of your hole, biting your neck as your sharp nails dragged long lines on his back. He kissed the spot he bit as your legs hugged his waist, the sensation of his two dicks scraping your insides as it gushed out slick only served to fuel your libido.

Each thrust of his hip brought you immense pleasure, hitting your sensitive spots that had you losing yourself to the haze of lust. Everything in you felt on fire as Zhongli gripped your waist, thrusting his two thick and long cocks inside you again and again all the way. His balls slapping your buttocks making obscene sounds as your wet cavern squelched from the combined liquid of your slick and Zhongli’s previous cum. The sudden loss of his cock filling you inside went unnoticed as he turned you around to lay on your stomach, ass up and presenting your wet and loose hole that was dripping his and your cum into the silk sheets of your nest.

“Yánwáng Dìjūn?”

It was all you could say before you moaned loudly from the force of his dicks slamming inside you, making his thick load of cum from earlier spurt out of your hole.

“Fuwaaa~ahn!”Your broken moans only made him grip you tighter as you clung onto to sheets for your dear life, you felt your hole clench just as the comforting weight of his body enveloped your smaller frame.

His hand wandered to your chest, pinching and twisting your glistening and reddened nipples as his cocks repeatedly thrusted into you.

“Inside me-!” You moaned as Zhongli bit you and unloaded his thick white cum inside of you. The rest of his come dribbled down the insides of your things while some fell into a puddle below your hole.

Zhongli’s pants filled your ears as he gripped you into a hug. His hand then reached downwards to your hole, scooping some of his come into his hand and presenting it into your mouth.

You opened your mouth as his fingers went near and moaned as his fingers began fucking your mouth.

“As the new God of Childbirth, you have to lead by example” Zhongli whispered as you tasted his sweet cum in your tongue, he kissed the back of your neck, “Bear my children.”

Your hole twitched in interest, as you swallowed his cum. You reached for his cocks, noting that it was already hard again, perhaps it was the from the orgasm or maybe it was due to your heat but you found yourself uttering words you would never have dared,

“How bold, for a mere element like you that merely ascended by chance to demand such a thing from a God like me.”

Soon you found yourself being fucked once more, harder and faster, feeling Zhongli’s annoyance and even then you knew that he was still holding back. Nothing like the beast that he truly was beneath the years of knowledge he had gained from achieving the pinnacle of cultivation.

He chanted your name as he impaled his cocks in you again and again, making you throw away all your aloof dignity as you moaned and begged him for more, begging him to fill you up with his seed and show his might.

Zhongli didn’t stop thrusting as you came again and again from his cocks, he didn’t stop even when he came losing himself to the thought of breeding you and dominating you.

His cocks didn’t stop filling you and when your hole couldn’t take it anymore, he fucked your mouth, repeatedly thrusting his two cocks and spurting his come down your throat multiple times as your hole twitched from the jade pillar he had plugged it with to keep all his come inside.

Your face was stained with his come, some of it staining your hair. Your belly was filled with his come and Zhongli had shown no signs of stopping anytime soon. As you felt him come for the nth time you slowly felt your consciousness slip away, the edges of your vision darkening as you tasted the familiar sweet taste of his come fill your mouth.

‘Ah~ I really provoked this dragon this time~’ You thought with mild amusement.

You were quite sure that once your heat was over, you would end up pregnant with his child.

When Spring arrived in Liyue, the entirety of Liyue Harbor found the esteemed consultant of Wangsheng Funeral Parlor, Zhongli, holding a visibly pregnant lady in his arms. Their belly was large and round, showing despite the considerably loose hanfu they wore but the most eye catching part was the possessive and caring way Mr. Zhongli cared for his pregnant spouse.

From the tips of their inky black hair to the pearls and gems that adorned their rabbit ears, the citizens of Liyue knew that Mr. Zhongli would have a litter of children. He had after all impregnated the most and highly esteemed race descended from Liyue’s God of Harvest and Marriage.

Unbeknownst to the town people, and only known to those who had a sharp sense of smell, the state of your pregnancy did nothing to stop Zhongli from breeding you repeatedly every night, everyday and in every opportunity that was presented to him. Even now as he assisted you in taking your daily walk in the boulevard, Zhongli was pleased by the flush on your cheeks.

It was after all the sign of you feeling the slow drip of his come from him fucking you earlier in one of Liyue’s seedy alley. His adepti powers concealing the act from everyone.

“I can’t wait once you give birth” He whispered into your ear as he hugged you from behind.

Your heat was long over, but the feeling of his cock as he discreetly rubbed it against your ass made you feel like it had returned.

“Mmmm...it’s going to be a long winter then…” You replied absentmindedly as you leaned on his chest. You felt your hole twitch in interest as Zhongli’s hand slipped underneath your skirt, you bit back a moan, pretending that nothing lascivious was happening. Idly, as Zhongli began preparing you for another round of breeding, you remembered that dragons had heats too.

And as you felt his cocks enter you easily, you lost your train of thought and fell into the haze of pleasure as Zhongli fucked you again.

#zhongli x reader #genshin impact x reader #R-18

[toshiirou]

A favour given is a favour owed - Linkverse Writing

Link was having a Bad Day. Capital letters and all. It warranted such distinction.

For starters, Link was one of many Links. He went by ‘Twilight’, if only to ease their shared communication. This wasn’t necessarily new information to him, being one of many: his own adventure had put him in contact with the Hero’s Shade – a ghost of a former Hero that had taught him everything he knew. While he didn’t know if the shade was yet another ‘Link’, he had resolutely cut off that line of thought as soon as it occurred to him. He couldn’t stick the thought of knowing that such a future awaited one of his current companions.

That wasn’t to say that Twilight was entirely successful in banishing the thought. It stressed him out, in the dead of night, or those quiet moments in between breaths. Twilight had come to care for the other incarnations of the Hero, as oddly self-centred that might seem on paper. Such care didn’t make it any easier to deal with their noise, however.

“Come back here!” Wind, yet another ‘Link’, yelled. Out of all of them he was one of the few that spoke verbally. And boy did he verbalise. Minish – or ‘Mini’, and Twilight had fondly nicknamed him in his head, stuck his tongue out in response. He was truly deserving of the title ‘mini’, standing as the shortest of all the Links. What he lacked in height he made up for with sheer willingness to fight, well, basically anything. Twilight was sure Mini could fight one of the Goddesses themselves and win, bless his heart.

In this case, he had grabbed one of the two pastries their resident pirate had bought for himself from the town they had just left. Twilight had been relishing the peace away from the hustle and bustle from the town centre – loud and crowded as it was – only to be bombarded with the sounds of their argument. He bit his lip, somewhat stressed out. The adventure was grating, not only because they were being thrown about time all willy-nilly, but because Twilight didn’t had a safe space to retreat to any-more. Even on his own harrowing adventure he could retreat to his pitch-black basement whenever it got too much. He gnawed a little more on his lip, flinching at the sound of Wind missing his shot at Mini and face-planting into the dirt.

He jumped at the sound of a loud wail, and turned quickly to see the tail end of Mini stuffing the pastry into his mouth, whole. Goddess help that kid, if he didn’t choke at the rate he was going. Wind was kneeling in the dirt, melodramatic, but without signs of true distresses. Absent-mindedly, Twilight dragged his nails over the back of his hand, trying to ground himself. What he really wanted was somewhere nice, and warm, and pitch-black. Like a blanket fort. The sunlight was bothering him, and the town had put him on edge, and the argument wasn’t helping any. He hadn’t slept well at all, and he was trying very hard not to think of some very distressing thoughts, all the while. Goddesses, he missed Midna.

He kept scratching his hand in distraction, trying to at least pay attention to the others. Sky had come to help Wind off the floor.

Don’t worry, Sky signed. We brought enough for everyone. He smiled, and reached to his belt where a small sack. Upon opening it he revealed a small pile of pastries, really enough for them all twice over.

“Woah!” Wind yelled. Twilight flinched. “Thank you so much, Sky!” He jumped up, all previous signs of upset gone like they hadn’t existed in the first place, and grabbed himself another pastry, which he immediately shoved into his mouth. “Del’shush.” He said, mouth full. Twilight was half convinced he’d bought the second pastry for Mini in the first place, going by how easily the shortest hero had grabbed it.

You can thank Legend, they paid for it. Sky replied.

Wind swallowed hard, struggling a little, and shot Legend a funny look. Twilight had gotten worried for a moment that he hadn’t chewed enough. Gosh the stress of these kids.

It was no problem, Legend signed, coming up next to Sky from where they had been at the back of the group. They’d all been walking until Wind’s yell had stopped them in their tracks.

Mini had gone up to Sky soon after Wind, happily chomping on another pastry. Twilight hadn’t thought he was paying attention to their signed conversation but Mini tugged on Legend’s cloak and gave them a wide smile in thanks. Their teeth was full of mushed up pastry.

Legend, with the patience of a saint, smiled back.

“Looking a little rough there, Mister Hero.” An unexpected voice came from his left, and Twilight felt like he jumped a foot in the air in response. Twilight twisted around to see Ravio, leaning casually against a nearby tree, as if he hadn’t come out of nowhere. Knowing the way their jumps worked, maybe he had, indeed, come out of nowhere.

“Your hand is looking a little rough.”

Twilight looked down, and in surprised noted that Ravio was correct: he had been scratching at his skin the whole time, and it was looking a little raw. He forced himself to stop, biting down on his lip in self-reproach.

“Hey now, Mister Hero. You’ll only cut yourself like that.” Ravio came closer, rummaging in his large white sack. It had the symbol of a rupee on it but seemed to hold everything and anything its owner wanted it to. After rooting around for a moment, he produced a small something. “Here, try this.”

Curious, Twilight took it to see a round, rubber doughnut that was looped at the end of a leather cord, like a charm or pendant. He put it on.

What am I supposed to do with this? He asked.

“You can chew on it!” Ravio replied, enthusiastic. “It’s a Ravio-original! I made it for my Li-iiive in room-mate! Yes, my live-in room-mate. He also has a bit of a problem with sounds and the senses and what-not.”

Curiously, Twilight put it in his mouth and bit down. It was firm, but not too firm. It was perfect. Without thought he started chewing on it in earnest.

How much? He asked, mostly focusing on chewing. It was so satisfying. He never wanted to stop. Ravio could have fleeced him for all he had, and he would have said yes.

“For this? Mister Hero I couldn’t possibly charge you! We all need a little support when life gets a bit too overwhelming, don’t we?” Ravio grinned his patented merchant smile.

Twilight was touched. The outside world wasn’t the easiest for him: he got overwhelmed a lot by all the sights and sounds and noises. Even among the other Link’s who all had similar issues, Twilight sometimes felt like he was lagging behind the rest – he needed more breaks and quiet time and space to unwind. But maybe it wasn’t all bad. There were kind people out there who could support him with his issues, and kindness sometimes came from the least likely of places.

“Although... I wouldn’t mind your share of those delicious looking pastries. I am famished Mister Hero, like you couldn’t believe. Why, I was just in the middle of nowhere! And they look very delicious.”

Aaaand there it was. Twilight laughed, mouth wide and without the self-conscious awareness he usually would posses. His brand new toy dropped from his mouth and caught itself on the leather cord. He gave Ravio a hearty slap to the shoulder.

Never change, he signed, grinned, walking off. They had better get a move on.

“Eh? Mister Hero? Is that’s a yes? Hey! Is that an okay? Speak now or forever- oh wait, sign now! Or forever hold your peace. I’m taking it, it’s mine now. Okay? Okay!”

#txt #mywriting #linkverse #legend of zelda #twilight princess #it's linkverse CANON that the hero's spirit and all the links are autistic #and i love that for them #warning for character death mention #aka hero's shade

[runephoenix6769]

Why Netflix aging up the Characters could spell disaster.

Ok, so I’ve tried to find confirmation that this is true and kinda found bubkiss so far.  But.... Zuko being aged up by two years does not bode well his motivation or Azula (or Sokka for that matter), narratively speaking and will massively change how their stories/character arcs hit.  It’s my belief that by aging up the characters they’ll kinda lose some of the soul of the show AND the poignancy of just how much pressure has been laid on the shoulders of Gaang and Azula's trio. The nuance of Children fixing a world broken by adults. (I shall preface by saying that anyone under 18 is a child and therefore even joining the military at 16 is still awful, but this post is being written within the context of the avatar universe, its societal norms and customs.)

Hear me out.  Within the show, all the main cast of children are supposed to be outliers and exceptionally skilled, even surpassing many of the adults in that world in terms of mastery of their elements and ability to execute strategy.   At 16/17 Rangi had her first commission after graduating from the Junior Corps in record time, to eventually become one of the youngest Lieutenants in Fire Nation Army service, during peace time.  400 years later we are in the midst of a global war, meaning the goal posts within the various societies would have shifted considerably. (Apart from the Earth Kingdom, they seriously need to get with the times.) Zuko is the heir to the throne of an imperial expansionist country, where military service is expected of many of the aristocracy. (If not every citizen doing something towards the war effort.) And has been since the reign of Sozin.  Being the heir, he would naturally be expected to take a military commission at 16/17, as precedent has been shown to us via Rangi. This would serve to foster loyalty from his soldiers, train him in ways of command to prepare him for taking over the Nation, etc etc.  Lets say that Netflix keep the rest of his story the same, so he is still ousted at 13 sent on a mission of folly as a cruel punishment. Well that just casts his 4 years at sea and his behaviour towards his men in an awful light. In four years he has not learned regard for the safety of his men? It makes the treatment of his men look callous instead of being a child who doesn't quite grasp how much his crew do for him, that they too have been ousted and separated from their loved ones! Four years of shite treatment would surely land a mutiny on his hands?  If anything, it serves to make him look whiny, and incompetently oblivious to the needs of others.  And what does it mean if they move the timeline of the Agni Kai up by two years, to 15?  It doesn't have quite the same impact. Remember what sits at the core of this show. It is ultimately about children trying the fix the world that the adults broke, violence, cruelty, child soldiers and the effects of war upon them, under intense pressure to succeed.  Zuko is supposed to be a child who hasn’t even begun to figure out what he wants.   His character arc in the show is supposed to be that journey!

Which brings me to Azula!  A child prodigy, who took down Ba Sing Se in a relatively bloodless coup at 14! Its meant to be an awe inspiring Herculean feat! A top notch military strategist, she is meant to be unmatched by any of her peers.  Her age in the OG show certainly explains her behavior, her not being developed enough in many ways. This contributes towards the deterioration of her mental health when she cannot reconcile the heavily cultivated sense of self with the reality culminating in the tragic and heart wrenching mental breakdown at 14! At 16/17, it makes it look like a huge ass hissy fit! OG Azula’s inflection moment begins in The Beach episode. She is begins to ask questions of herself in the form of small experiments. It takes the form of her hiding their identities on Ember Island.  It is as if she is trying to feel out if she is as witty and charming as she believes, but she comes to learn that she is woefully socially inept, people don’t like her for her, beginning the spiral of insecurity and self doubt. We are also told that Azula’s mother thought her a monster and she is massively hurt by that, though she plays it off as nothing.  This insecurity is blown wide open on the Boiling Rock cemented by Ty Lee’s betrayal and culminates in Azula, who is truly terrified that he might burn her in a way similar to Zuko, seeing her being sidelined by Ozai.  She takes as a form of punishment for her ‘failure’, a form of banishment, that she has been discarded like Zuko, when she had imagined being by her father’s side as they burned the world in celebration of their mutual victory rather than for what is truly is which is Ozai being a glory hog and reaping all the benefits from Azula’s hard work.  Which brings me to the suggestion by Azula to burn the world in the first place. A child suggesting that you ‘Burn the World’ smacks a whole lot differently when you think of it as a kid not quite grasping/understanding the ramifications of such a suggestion, but a 16 year old? Such a thing tips her from confused mentally unwell child with a crippling fear of failure raised without a lick of compassion to full blown villainy with nothing remotely sympathetic about her! The way the last Agni Kai is framed you are supposed to feel sympathetic towards her! Which makes me wonder if they are gonna paint Azula as unhinged straight from the get go? Her unravelling at the seams is supposed to be her journey!

Sokka.... at 17!  In the OG show, Hakoda does the right thing by telling Sokka to remain behind to look after the village because at 13 he is too young to go to war.  Why leave him behind at 15? Would that not serve to feed into feelings of inadequacy, that he was deemed too weak to leave and fight with the other men and boys of the tribe?  Now, I would argue that Sokka’s OG arc rivals Zuko’s redemption. He does feel inadequate and overcomes it. He also unlearns a shit load of misogyny! What 17 year old doesn’t take responsibility for his own clothes, in a tribe were adults are few and far between? What 17 year old expects his little sister to be his mother and bear the brunt of the domestic? How obtuse and unfeeling would that make Sokka? It would propel him to the side of boorish, lazy and entitled rather than the sweet teenage boy who grows to realise he has a lot to learn.  OG Sokka is humble as hell and not afraid admit when he is lacking! He will go and openly admit his flaws and learn from others who he had previously written off.  Suki gives him a glass of respect women juice and he keeps on chugging, only adding to the Sokka we know and love.  This is supposed to be his journey! 

OG Sokka is just as much of a genius as Azula!  They are both supposed to be exceptional. Having them sit at 16/17 figuring this all out within a war torn world were it would be totally normal for them to participate in the generational war machine kind of robs them of this. Their more child like behaviours, grappling with concepts and truly understanding their consequences is supposed to remind us that they are children, being asked to do something no child ever should! Aging them up casts these things in a whole other light, skewering the what makes this show so beloved!  If you change the core characters to the point their journey’s don’t make sense within the world they inhabit, or they become unrecognisable to the audience you’re trying to milk then really.....what’s the point?  

#avatar last airbender #atlab #atla #avatar the last airbender #prince zuko #princess azula #sokka #zuko #azula #rangi #rise of kyoshi

[goldenavenger02]

my pain fits in the palm of your freezing hand

5 times Zane took care of the team and 1 time the team took care of Zane

•••

1;

"You three are brothers now, and will become stronger together. But for now, you must get acquainted with each other." Sensei's words rang in Zane's head as he made his way into the kitchen of the monastery.

While Jay had been somewhat easy to get introduced to, with his passion for robotics and his tendency to talk, they had become close very quickly.

Cole, however, was a bit harder to speak to; Zane could tell that Cole was a good person, as he was extremely loyal to Sensei even though he had just started his training under him, but he was also closed off to Jay and Zane.

And while he didn't know why, Zane had a feeling it was more so due to some sort of pain in his past, and not him viewing himself and Jay as lower than him.

Which is why Zane was now in the kitchen; he could never quite place exactly why, but he always felt at peace when he was cooking. Something about making something out of nothing was soothing to him.

But before he had decided what exactly he was going to make, that's when Cole came in, a look of longing across his face.

"Hello, Cole," Zane greeted, offering him a smile, but it faded when Cole stiffened, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to frighten you."

"It's alright, just startled me," Cole insisted, the look of longing came back before he asked, "are you making anything specific?"

"I have not decided. Do you have a request?" Zane asked, trying to read Cole's face.

"Can you make cake? Vanilla cake?"

"Absolutely," Zane smiled, going to grab the ingredients before asking, his back turned to Cole, "are we celebrating something, or is it just cake?"

He heard Cole take in a deep breath, almost as if he was trying to avoid crying, which didn't make much sense, since from what he knew, cake was never for sad things.

Zane turned around to see Cole staring at the counter before he responded.

"Yeah, it's…" he swallowed before locking eyes with Zane, "it would have been my mom's birthday. She passed away a few months ago."

"I am sorry for your loss, Cole." Zane spoke softly, unsure of how best to comfort someone he didn't know very well.

The room went quiet for a few moments, and Zane busied himself with grabbing the rest of the cooking supplies when Cole spoke up again, his voice cracking slightly from the tears.

"Can I help?"

Zane nodded, allowing Cole behind the counter before Zane got to work on the dry ingredients, watching as Cole started working on the wet ingredients.

And when Zane tripped over his own foot, resulting in Cole being covered in flour head to toe, he couldn't stop himself from laughing when Cole did, although he didn't fully understand exactly what was so funny.

2;

"Come on, you stupid hunk of junk!" Nya's shout rang through the Bounty, startling everyone that was aboard.

"How long has she been working on the thruster?" Zane asked, wondering just how long she had gone without food, sleep and water.

"Since yesterday afternoon, I can't pry her away from it." Jay explained, which led Zane to nod before making his way to the control room.

Nya was hunched over the thruster controls, screwdriver in her left hand and a screw hanging out of her mouth, her eyebrows scrunched in anger as she continued to twist the wrench with her right around a bolt.

"Nya?" Zane spoke softly, not wanting to provoke her, before gently putting his hand on her shoulder, "perhaps you should take a break. Jay said that you have been working on it since yesterday."

"I've gotta work on this," she shook her head after taking the screw out of her mouth, "we don't know when we'll have to make a getaway from...whatever Lord Garmadon is planning."

Zane nodded; since Garmadon had disappeared after the destruction of the golden weapons, they had all braced themselves for an attack, even Lloyd who had just started learning the full extent of his powers was getting ready for whatever his dad was going to throw at them.

"I understand your reasoning perfectly, but you are human, Nya. You will get burnt out if you work yourself too hard," he stopped to gently take the wrench out of her hand so she would look at him, "and if we have any chance at stopping Garmadon, we are going to need Samurai X."

Luckily, Nya nodded, and put up her tools, before wiping at her brow with her arm. "Thanks, Zane."

"You're welcome." Zane couldn't help but smile as he watched Nya make her way towards her quarters, and that's when he turned back to the thruster, and started to get to work with schematics pulled up in front of him.

"You will fly again, my friend."

3;

Despite the fact that it was called "The Dark Island", Zane had actually found the perfect place to sit on the beach and watch the sunrise, which was hidden by large rocks, even though he could see the ocean perfectly.

He knew that the others would wake up soon, and they would start working towards the final battle yet again, but for a brief moment, everything was peaceful.

Until he heard the footsteps.

Zane immediately drew his weapon, hearing the slight rustle of sand get louder and louder, until finally, he stood and yelled, ready to attack until the supposed assailant screamed, energy at both of their hands.

Zane immediately sheathed the weapon and took a deep breath, watching as Lloyd did the same, his hand against his chest. "You scared me, Lloyd."

"Likewise," Lloyd took a deep breath before raising an eyebrow, "what're you doing?"

"I'm watching the sunrise, it looks beautiful from here," Zane explained, sitting back down and watching Lloyd's face fall, "although, I could ask you the same thing."

"I just needed some time for myself," Lloyd told him, sitting next to Zane before letting out a sigh, "I don't think I'm ready."

"To fight your father?," Zane offered, resulting in a nod from Lloyd, "You have every reason to be upset about this situation. I just reunited with my father, and I can confidently say that I would be very distraught if we were on opposite sides."

"My entire life, I've lost people. My father got banished, my mother went to work on her research and left me at Darkley's, even my uncle didn't take me in for a long time," Zane watched as Lloyd took in a shaky breath before wiping his face against his sleeve, "I don't wanna lose him again."

"Again?" Zane asked softly, as to avoid provoking Lloyd.

"My dad has been the only one to come back for me. When I got taken by the Serpentine, he left whatever evil place he was in to come save me, and I know you guys came for me too, but…"

"You're scared of being abandoned again after you fulfill the prophecy." Zane spoke aloud as it clicked in his head, and when Lloyd nodded, he could feel his heart break slightly.

"I don't want to be alone again."

Zane nodded, before gently laying his hand on Lloyd's shoulder and he saw the tear streaks on Lloyd's cheeks. "You won't be alone again, because you have me and the others. We are your brothers, and even if you didn't have elemental abilities, we would still be your brothers."

Zane didn't prepare himself adquitally for the hug that Lloyd gave him, and he could feel his circuits and gears tightening under his grasp.

But hearing Lloyd's soft voice whisper, "thank you, Zane," made it all worth it, and he couldn't stop himself from returning the hug.

4;

"No sign of Chen or any of his warriors." PIXAL affirmed with a smile, which led Zane to repeat the message to Kai.

Now that he had been freed, he was fully able to explore exactly what his new body could do, and while he remembered big events clearly and flashes of small things, his memory was still foggy.

But he remembered his friends, and that was the biggest thing that mattered to him.

"Any sign of Skylor?" Kai begged, and Zane had no choice but to shake his head no, seeing the look of anguish on Kai's face grow more prominent.

"Let's keep looking. They couldn't have gotten off the island." Kai insisted, Zane following closely behind, watching as Kai's face went from anger to worry.

"You seem distraught, Kai. About more than Skylor," Zane reached forward and gently set his hand on Kai's shoulder, watching as he turned back to meet his eyes, "do you want to talk about it?"

Kai let out a sigh before turning back to the path and continued to walk, "I feel terrible for what happened. I had to trick Lloyd in order to get the staff from Chen, and then I almost hurt Lloyd and Skylor with the staff. Now she's missing, and...I feel like that's on me."

"No one blames you for that, Kai. Chen is the one who took her, not you." Zane reasoned softly.

"But I allowed myself to be corrupted by the staff. We all know how bad losing power is for Lloyd, and I allowed the power to consume me, to say things to him that...that I haven't believed in a long time."

"As soon as we get back, you two should talk and get everything out in the open," Zane stopped once again to put his hand on Kai's shoulder, "if we are going to fight as one, and stop Chen, we cannot have any harsh feelings towards each other."

"You're right," Kai nodded, before letting out another sigh, "I just hope Lloyd doesn't hate me."

"I think that would be impossible, Kai," Zane insisted, and when Kai turned to raise an eyebrow at him, he continued, "I do not remember everything, and my memories are still foggy, but I remember just how much Lloyd and you have bonded over the years. I have a feeling that after you two talk, he will forgive you."

Kai smiled, which made Zane's emotion levels spike with happiness, before the two continued walking deeper and deeper into Chen's island.

5;

Zane couldn't shake the feeling that he was missing something, like there was a gap in his memory drive, even if PIXAL insisted that there wasn't one.

So he was awake in the bridge, trying to double check; he really did trust PIXAL, but something had happened to his memories, and after the whole situation with his memory switch in the first place, something about forgetting just scared him.

But as he continued to go through his internal hard drive, and his memory drive, it seemed as though PIXAL was correct, and there was no gap.

As he went to close the files, that's when PIXAL popped up in his vision.

"Zane, there is someone in the general proximity of the bridge. Proceed with caution."

Zane straightened his back as he closed the files, even though the only sound he could hear was a slight sniffling that sounded a lot like crying, and grabbed one of the spare katanas that was out, turning slowly to see if he could scope out who was in the room, but that's when Jay turned the corner, a pint of ice cream in his hand that he almost threw at Zane when he screamed.

"What the heck are you doing up, Zane?!" Jay screeched as Zane set the katana on the table and approached him, "You're going to give me a heart attack if you're that quiet!"

"I'm sorry, I was just…" Zane trailed off before making eye contact with Jay, who now had the spoon from the pint of ice cream, that looked like it was Cole's ice cream, in his mouth; the tear streaks barely visible against Jay's cheeks, however, that's what Zane noticed, "What are you doing up at this hour?"

"Could ask you the same thing," Jay responded before sticking another spoonful in his mouth, "couldn't sleep, got hungry, and Cole's name isn't on his ice cream."

"I heard someone crying." Zane asked softly, watching as Jay nearly choked on a chunk of cookie dough before sputtering.

"Maybe it was Lloyd, you know he curls up under the wheel when he doesn't want anyone to know he's crying."

"Lloyd was snoring when I left our room, I would have seen him," he watched as Jay's body deflated slightly and he put the ice cream down on the console before sitting down, which led Zane to put his hand on his shoulder, "do you want to talk about it?"

"I'm just working through some things, things that...you wouldn't remember."

Zane swallowed as he made the connection that Jay knew exactly why he had a gap in his memory that PIXAL couldn't detect, but instead of freaking out, he sat next to Jay, and put his hand on his shoulder. "Maybe not, but I am willing to listen, even if you wanna erase this conversation afterwards."

"Nah, I'm not gonna do that," Jay wiped his hand across his face before taking a shaky breath and turning back to Zane, "You remember when we were trying to get to Stiix because of reports of Clouse being there?"

"Yes, that's when you and Nya resumed dating." Zane affirmed, watching as Jay's face fell slightly.

"Yeah, that's… not exactly what happened…"

6;

'Remember when I put Kai's clothes in with yours, and you had to dress up as the pink ninja? Remember?' The blonde boy pleaded, green eyes full of tears.

He had no idea what this liar was talking about, let alone who he was. Vex insisted he was some sort of liar or traitor, but there was something about the way…

'No.'

He had no idea who this was.

•••

Zane tried to shake the memory away as he made his way to his room, looking over at the photo on his dresser.

The picture that they had taken after finishing the mural on the monastery wall; where Kai was holding onto Nya and Lloyd and Nya was holding onto Jay and Jay was holding onto Cole and Lloyd was holding onto him and he was holding onto PIXAL.

And they were all happy; even though the Oni almost killed them all, there was a large gash next to Lloyd's eye and Cole looked like he had been through the underworld and back, they were happy.

Zane was anything but happy now.

When they returned from the Never-Realm, and they shared weary smiles and hugs with Master Wu and PIXAL, despite the frostbite, Lloyd's obvious concussion and the burns on Kai's hands that would definitely scar, they were happy.

The feeling in Zane's gut was not going away anytime soon. Watching as PIXAL stitched the cut on the back of Lloyd's head, applied bandages to Kai's hands, and treated the frostbite wasn't helping with that either.

Zane didn't deserve to feel happy after nearly killing the others. After nearly killing Lloyd.

While the others were eating dinner, courtesy of Nya, Zane was sitting outside on the steps of the monastery; he didn't need to eat, and even if he did, he didn't think he could stomach it.

'You were built to protect those who cannot protect themselves. You failed your purpose. Both as a ninja, and as yourself.'

Despite all that had happened with his memories, Zane was starting to consider asking Jay to wipe the archive of the Never-Realm. Maybe he wouldn't feel as bad then.

"Hey," a voice interrupted his thoughts, and he lifted his head to see Lloyd smiling at him, although it was more of a sympathetic smile than a genuine one, "mind if I sit here?"

"You're not supposed to be outside, or on stairs for that matter, without supervision," Zane reasoned, but still moved so Lloyd could sit beside him, "you still have a concussion."

"Well, you're here, so I'm being supervised," Lloyd reasoned while sitting, and Zane couldn't deny that logic, and the company was more welcome than the deafening silence, "besides, I need a break from Kai and Master Wu breathing down my neck."

Zane nodded as Lloyd adjusted to get comfortable; he had noticed how understandably protective both of them had grown since they had gotten back, and how Lloyd had insisted immediately that the concussion was Vex's fault, refusing to look Zane in the eye.

"So, are you leaving?" Lloyd's voice cracked, which jolted something in Zane's system as he nearly stood with the shock.

"No, no, I'm not leaving," he insisted, unable to ignore the relief on Lloyd's face as he spoke, "why would you ask that?"

"Because the last time you left the monastery at night, you found my treehouse," Lloyd kicked at a pebble before looking at Zane, "and when the Hypnobri burned down the old monastery-"

But Lloyd's voice cut out as the scene played out in his head.

'Flames, trapped dragons, no more training equipment, no home, nowhere to go, alone, everyone accusing him of causing this, insisting that it was a teaching moment, being ignored, seeing the falcon, following it, the feeling of being alone again.'

"I left because I saw the falcon, and you weren't even there." Zane tried to convince Lloyd that it hadn't been the guilt, feeling like he had screwed up, feeling like he was alone.

"You're right, I was busy being a brat," Lloyd reasoned before looking back at Zane, "but I know as well as anyone what guilt is, and you felt it then, like you feel it now."

Zane swallowed; did everyone know? Was he terrible at hiding this? Had they planned to send Lloyd out?

"I hurt people. A lot of people," Zane swallowed, knowing that there were tears in his eyes, "I hurt you."

"That was Vex-" Lloyd tried to insist, but Zane shook his head, unable to look at Lloyd and instead looked up at the glittering stars.

"You don't have to lie to me, Lloyd. They were my hands, I was the one who…" he couldn't even finish his sentence without choking on the emotions on his throat.

He felt Lloyd's hand on his shoulder, he couldn't look at him, but he couldn't reach over and pull his hand off either, 'what if I freeze him? What if I hurt him again?'

"You know, Master Wu has a saying for things like this, "we cannot change the past, but we can affect the future"," Lloyd quoted, leading Zane to swallow harshly as his master's words rang true in his head, "but I get it. Feeling like you hurt people because it was your hands."

'Morro.'

"Lloyd, I didn't-" Zane started, finally managing to look at Lloyd, but he was cut off by childlike wonder spreading across his face.

"A shooting star! Quick, make a wish!" Lloyd begged, and Zane wiped at his tears before closing his eyes, pretending to make a wish before turning back to Lloyd.

"What did you wish for?" He asked, fully indulging Lloyd at this point, who was standing up. 'Lloyd deserves this, after everything.'

"That you'll come back inside with me and the others," Lloyd held out his hand to Zane, making his head throb with worry.

'You'll hurt him, you'll hurt him, you'll hurt-' "You're not going to hurt me, Zane."

Zane took Lloyd's hand, and allowed him to lead him to the living room.

For the first time since they got back from the Never-Realm, as Cole and Kai went head to head in their video game, as Nya and Jay snuggled on the couch, as he sat in between Lloyd and PIXAL, things felt right again.

He let PIXAL hold his hand, he let Cole high five him, he let Jay give him a fist bump, he hit the empty bag of chips away from Lloyd's head. Even as Master Wu pulled Lloyd away from the TV due to the concussion and Cole took his spot, he still felt calm. Relaxed even. Maybe now, they could all start to heal together.

#Ninjago #lego ninjago #zane ninjago #lloyd montgomery garmadon #jay walker #nya ninjago #kai ninjago #cole ninjago #master wu #pixal #pilot season #season 2 #season 4 #season 6 #season 11 #angst #family #friendship #the formatting is a little weird but i wanted the whole story to fit on here

[trekscribbles]

Cherry Juice

Fandom: Leverage Word Count: 1558 Pairings: Just Eliot and Parker friendship Cross-posted: AO3 and FF

Eliot had blood on his hands, and the fact that it surprised him... surprised him. The sight of it hit him like a punch to the face, the kind he hadn't been expecting—the kind that made him stumble when he needed to keep his feet. He sucked in a breath, feeling his muscles bunch in preparation, tucking his elbows against his body. Parker called it his Danger Mode, and he—

Parker.

Eliot took another breath, staring down at his hands. It wasn't blood, it was cherry juice. He was standing in his kitchen, making cherry chutney for a pork loin he was going to grill later. Parker sat across from him, perched on a stool with her elbows on his island, watching him like a cat studying a bird.

She was saying his name, her eyes all bright and curious. He gave her a wordless grunt and turned away, all but running to the sink, pushing up on the faucet handle with his wrist and scrubbing the red off his skin. It stained the creases where his fingers bent, running down underneath the nails and making his knuckles look bruised.

"Eliot?" Parker was next to him now, peering over his arms as if he was doing something interesting instead of trying to scour the skin off his hands.

He cleared his throat. "It's—the—the juice was sticking to the knife."

Parker's eyes followed the flow of pink draining from his hands. "It looks a little bit like..." Her eyes snapped up to his, and he looked away before he could tell himself not to. I hadn't noticed, he wanted to say, all gruff and confident and dismissive. It was just sticky. You don't want to use a sticky knife.

But he couldn't force the words out. He continued to wash until his skin burned under the steaming water, feeling the heat of Parker's gaze like a he was an ant under her magnifying glass. When his flesh was pink and raw and as clean as he could possibly get it, he turned off the water and reached for the towel hanging from the oven handle.

Parker beat him to it. "Is that what bothered you?" she asked, holding it out to him.

He took it roughly, ready to tell her to mind her own business, but he couldn't make himself say that when he couldn't even meet her eyes. So he nodded, and she nodded in response.

"It wasn't. It was just cherry juice."

"I know that, Parker."

"You wanted to fight something though."

He wanted to argue that too, but his still-tense muscles told him that denial was pointless. "It's a reflex," he murmured instead.

"Would you have fought the cherries?"

The question made him blink at her, and her face looked so sincere, like she'd just asked an actual question and was waiting for an actual reply. "No, Parker," he said, managing a little of his usual gruffness.

"Good. Then I'd have to tell Nate, and he'd have to tell Sophie, and you'd have to take a wellness quiz and—"

"A wellness quiz?"

"Yeah." She leaned away from him, plucking a pitted cherry from the bowl on the counter and popping it into her mouth. "You know, like How are you feeling today? and Why do you think there are monsters in your closet? and How did you find out the monsters had the key to the ice cream freezer?"

Eliot stared at her, trying to make sense of her words. "Did someone ask you those questions?"

She nodded. "You know, the questions they ask you when you're a kid. Wellness quizzes." Eliot shook his head, and Parker seemed to deflate a little. "Oh. Was that just me?"

"No one ever asked me anything like that," Eliot said. His hands were dry now, but he didn't want to put down the towel. "Did you get asked those questions a lot?"

"A few times," Parker said, and he got the impression that she was hedging.

Eliot sighed. The Question flashed through his mind again: How did he end up with these people, these damaged children with damaged pasts that wouldn't let them go? He used to be someone who wouldn't care about this kind of thing—about her wellness questions, about her childhood, about her. He used to be the kind of monster that would have hidden in her closet.

But he'd just tried to scrub the skin off his hands because of some cherry juice.

"Go ahead," he grunted, replacing the towel on the rack and picking up his knife again.

"What?"

"Go ahead and give me the quiz." He forced his fingers around a pitted cherry, focusing on relaxing his grip on the knife so it would glide through the fruit instead of chopping.

Parker tilted her head. "How are you feeling?"

"Hungry."

"And how did you sleep last night?"

"Fine."

"No nightmares?"

"No."

"No getting up in the middle of the night to check for monsters under your bed?"

Eliot looked up from the cherries. "Do you do that?"

"Not anymore. Hardison said you chased all the monsters away for me."

A mix of emotions drove his eyes down again—he was irritated that Hardison was making promises for him, and touched at the thought that his name was enough to banish Parker's fear. "Next question."

"Have you been spending more time alone lately than is normal for you?"

"Parker, you're in my kitchen right now. I told you I was busy and you came over anyway."

"I thought it was code."

"It was code for I'm busy, don't come over."

"Okay. Are you having problems with your teachers or parents?"

He expected the mention of his parents to bring the usual spike of guilt, but instead he only quirked up his eyebrows and scraped the halved cherries into their waiting bowl. "Teachers?"

She nodded seriously. "Or parents. Any arguments with Nate lately?"

"Nate's not my dad."

She rolled her eyes. "Obviously. You don't look anything alike."

"No, Parker, I haven't had any arguments with Nate or Sophie, and I got Hardison to write my term paper for me."

Though he said it as sarcastically as possible, Parker nodded in approval. "Are you taking unnecessary risks or getting hurt frequently?"

"All of my risks are calculated and necessary."

"You did get shot during our last job."

"It was a graze," Eliot argued, rolling his shoulder to prove that it had healed. "Next question."

He waited, but she was quiet for so long that he was able to cut three cherries in peace before looking up. When he did, her eyes were focused on the counter between his cutting board and the bowl. "Will you tell me the next time you go into Danger Mode when there's no danger?"

Eliot frowned, setting down his knife and wiping his fingers on the towel. He wanted to say no, because admitting something like tensing for a fight while he was cooking at home felt like an admission of weakness, but her face was closing off in anticipation of his denial and he hated being responsible for that reaction. So he picked up a cherry half and held it out to her, waiting to speak until her eyes crept up to his. "I will," he said slowly. "If you promise to never tell Hardison."

In a heartbeat, her expression lit up and she plucked the cherry out of his palm. "Deal."

"You shouldn't be this excited about keeping secrets from your boyfriend."

"I don't want to get out of practice," she said, shrugging. "Besides, I keep tons of secrets from you."

"Like what?"

"Like that time Hardison put a clip in your hair while you were sleeping and you didn't notice it and then he got scared that you'd find it so he made me sneak behind you and take it out."

"Parker!"

She winced. "Which he told me not to tell you. So now you have to keep my secret too."

Eliot threw another handful of cherries onto his cutting board, scowling, and his gaze caught on his stained fingers. His body didn't react to the sight this time—his heartbeat stayed even, his shoulders relaxed. He glanced up at Parker, busy stealing another piece of fruit from the bowl, and failed to contain the burst of warmth that spread through him. Maybe she'd been right after all. Maybe "don't come over" was a code, one he hadn't even realized he'd been giving her. One she'd read as effortlessly as she'd read his reaction to the cherry juice on his skin. Had she always been that good at reading him? Were Sophie's lessons finally starting to take hold, or was Parker just getting better at recognizing emotion in others now that she had accepted it in herself?

Or did it have more to do with him than her? Was he starting to let down his guard more than he'd realized?

"Ask me another question," Eliot said quietly.

Parker beamed at him. "Another wellness question?"

"No. Anything."

"What else goes into the chutney?"

Eliot smiled, thinking back to the dish he'd tasted on his last trip to India. "I don't have a recipe, but I think I tasted onion, curry, lemon juice..."

"You always taste lemon juice."

"Yeah, well," he shrugged. "It's a very distinctive taste."

#leverage #fanfic #eliot spencer #parker leverage #friendship #I was cutting cherries in half for my toddler and this happened #sorry #very little planning or editing went into this #not beta read

[helioleti]

I've been rewatching ATLA several times lately and this time I especially ended up wondering a lot about Iroh and Ozai's past and characters in general. I just can't help but think it weird that Ozai is the ultimate trashbag of a humanbeing while Iroh ended up preaching harmony and peace. It just doesn't make any sense. These guys are brothers. They were brought up by the same parents, in the same fascist imperialistic nation, they were taught the same values growing up. You're trying to tell me the difference is that Iroh was destined to be the person he eventually came to be, but Ozai was just born evil? No, I don't think so.

I have two hot takes that I'm gonna elaborate:

1. Iroh had a guidance Ozai lacked

2. Ozai was the less favored son

(Disclaimer: I haven't read the comics yet so I don't know how deep they've already gone into this subject at some point. I'm trying to interpret and analyze the stuff that I got from the animated series only. If anything I say contradicts what has already been confirmed in the comics, feel free to correct me.)

Hear me out. Iroh wasn't born a saint. Everyone is aware of this, especially Iroh himself. He laid siege to Ba Sing Se for 2 years, costing the Fire Nation and Earth Kingdom thousands of lives. Everyone knew that if the Fire Nation took over the capital, it meant almost ultimate victory for the Fire Nation. He even went as far as making a offhand sadistic jokes about burning the city to the ground in that letter to Zuko and Azula.

Iroh acknowledges it himself; He was a different man.

So what changed?

Yes, his son died. It broke and shattered him from the inside, making him drop all efforts to continue fighting in the war. To continue what had been his lifelong ambition, what he believed to be his destiny. He had a literal vision about taking over Ba Sing Se when he was a child, and that had been what he'd been pursuing ever since. But the death of his son managed to crumble all of that into nothingness. How is that possible?

Don't get me wrong. I think it's completely valid. I just don't understand how Lu Ten and Iroh could've had such a loving and caring relationship in the first place, when that's clearly something unusual among the royal family. Ozai burned and banished Zuko without a second thought, not to mention all the other shit he did to him growing up. Ozai didn't give two shits about Azula either, he only ever intended to use her as his weapon. Doesn't seem too surprising, if you ask me. Azulon didn't hesitate to demand that Ozai kill his own son if he wanted the throne. That's the man that raised Ozai, so it's just logical that Ozai learned that behavior and those values from his own father.

Even 9 year old Azula thinks it laughable that Iroh would fall apart at the death of his son. She is a child and this is how she thinks. The reason Zuko doesn't think like this is because he's had the guidance of his mother, unlike Azula. This is the kind of mentality these kids grow up with. They grew up with war and so did Iroh and Ozai.

So why was Iroh's relationship with Lu Ten so different? Where did Iroh experience the kind of compassion and love he passed on to his own son, that Ozai definitely didn't? People act on how they've come to learn, so where did Iroh learn to care about his son to a point that it made him give up on his lifelong ambition?

Let's review a very crucial information we have on Iroh and Ozai as siblings: They have a huge age gap.

Frankly, I'm guessing about 10-20 years. Looks more like 20 to me, but that could also be Iroh's greater amount of endured pain and war making him look older than he actually is. But no one can deny that an age gap is definitely there. Which can also indicate they had different upbringings, despite having grown up in the same family as brothers.

What does this mean? Well, that's just me theorizing now, but I can definitely imagine that Iroh had someone, a family member maybe, there for him who wasn't around or didn't care to be when Ozai grew up. There must've been someone there who gave Iroh emotional security and guidance throughout his upbringing. Who? That's up to imagination. A friend of the family? A friendly uncle? His own mother ((or father))? (The last two things worked out for Zuko in the end, didn't they?) Otherwise I can't really explain myself why Iroh had enough values to love the way he loved Lu Ten, while Ozai clearly didn't give two fucks about his children at any point in his life.

Iroh was the firstborn son, the one who had a vision very early in his life that his destiny was to take over Ba Sing Se. Probably the one who got to have a family member care about him enough to show him how to love.

(I like to point this out a lot because I find it very interesting, and very significant. Please A:TLA give us more info on Iroh's past!!)

Which brings me to my second take: Ozai was the less favored son.

Iroh was clearly a son to be proud of. He was a master firebender, the "Dragon of the West", if you will. He apparently had a vision as a boy that he'd conquer the most "impenetrable city" in the world. He probably lived up to his parent's expectations for his whole life, especially having no sibling to be compared to for a significant part of his life. He broke through the outter wall of Ba Sing Se during his siege. Yada yada yada, you get my point. He's the best son they could've wished for.

And Ozai? As far as I know, he barely even has any military achievements. Taking over Ba Sing Se was Azula's doing. While Iroh laid siege to the capital, he was at home chilling in the palace. He's the younger brother to an established hero and was never meant to be firelord. Now, I haven't read the comics for more info on Ozai's biography, but this man barely had a chance to live up to his parent's standards with Iroh as an older brother. If my theory is correct, Ozai also didn't have any person to provide him emotional guidance throughout his life. (*cough* like Azula)

The logical outcome is: infinite jealousy.

And when Ozai suggests to Azulon that he revoke Iroh's birthright to become firelord, this is Azulon's answer:

Azulon doesn't even hesitate to call Ozai out on his bullshit. He doesn't hesitate to take offense at the suggestion of betraying Iroh, and he even seems to care about Iroh's suffering. Not to mention that Azulon is overall annoyed with Ozai's request for an audience and sends the rest of Ozai's family away as soon as he can, to get whatever it is Ozai wants over with.

I could also mention the fact that Ozai tried to impress Azulon with his daughter's skills (Azula, even named after him) and the overall strained relationship these two seem to exhibit. It's obviously very different from Azulon's relationship with Iroh, if the way he talks about said man is anything to show for.

What if Azulon treated Ozai the same way Ozai treated Zuko? (Probably without the physical abuse, but you get my point.) What if this is where Ozai learned to treat a "useless" kid like shit, maybe also in a way to cope with how he was treated himself?

Getting deeper into the fact that Ozai is rather a loser compared to Iroh, without any big military achievements and without value for anything beyond that, this also explains a lot about Ozai's constant need to establish his dominance.

First; Becoming Firelord through radical manners (you know, killing his own son or killing his own father)

Second; Publicly burning and banishing his own son whom he considers a weakling, who dared to speak up in his war room. Doing this to have everyone know that he doesn't associate himself with weakness and that he will not ever tolerate any form of disrespect.

Third; The whole Phoenix King act. No one can tell me this isn't a madman's doing. This is literally to show off that he is the most powerful person in the world.

Ozai is so obsessed with proving himself and his superiority to everyone, including himself and probably Iroh too. This makes most sense if we consider that he probably lived in his brother's shadow for his whole life, ignored by probably every guiding figure he's ever had in his life, maybe even considered a laughingstock by his own father.

Perhaps this is also the reason Ozai didn't have any problem with Iroh accompanying Zuko in banishment. His brother, the hero in whose shadow he grew up, and his son, the failure he'd wanted out of the way for a long time already. It would erase Iroh's image that made him superior to him, once and for all. For himself and the world. I believe that branding him a traitor was the biggest satisfaction Ozai had ever experienced in his life.

I absolutely despise Ozai with every fibre of my heart, but it amazes me how ATLA continues to leave so much room for interpretation and explanation for a character as despicable as him. Writing this, even had me feel sympathy for him at some point. Feel free to disagree with me or add anything, I'm eager to hear everyone's thoughts about Ozai and Iroh's backstories because I'm geniuinely very curious.

#atla #avatar #avatar the last airbender #atla thoughts #atla theory #atla things #ozai #uncle iroh #iroh #fire nation #phoenix king ozai #avatar ozai #avatar iroh #zuko #azula #azulon #atla textpost #avatar textpost

[tales-unique]

FAULTS OF THE HEART IV

Chapter 4

“It’s healing nicely,” Alucard hums, nimble fingers gently tracing the puckered scar on your shoulder, looking for any problematic signs. “I still get some stiffness in it,” you acknowledge with a small laugh, “but at least I can use my arm again!” It's been a long, tiring road to recovery, but you have finally completed it. Your arm is no longer useless, wrapped up in bandages. Now it’s almost as good as before. You can even use a bow, which means that you are now ready to leave the castle, and Alucard, behind.

A frown darkens your expression at the thought; you’ve become quite fond of him in the time you’ve been there and he seems to have warmed to you too. “Is something wrong?” Alucard’s voice is gentle, his brow furrowed. He’s pulled back his hand, probably assuming that he’s the source of your souring mood. “Oh,” you force a smile, waving your hand dismissively, “no, not really. It’s fine.” Alucard sees through the flimsy lie easily and embarrassment colours your cheeks a dusty pink when he fixes you with a deadpan stare. You tug your sleeve back into place, looking away from him. You press back against the counter top you’re leaning against, distracting yourself by staring at a cracked tile on the wall. Soft afternoon light filters through the kitchen window, painting him in beautiful golden light; it does nothing to help you in that moment. “You know that doesn’t work on me,” he chides, circling around to face you. He’s grown bolder around you as of late, challenging you more often, and though it forces you to confront your emotions you rather like this side of him. He’s healing just as much as you are and you feel content knowing that you’re a part of that process. Rolling your eyes at his remark you cross your arms sulkily over your chest, eyes turning to stare at the floor in one last ditch attempt to make him drop it. It could really use a scrub, you think. It only delays the inevitable as he stands unmoved, shifting in his stance to lean against the counter too. He’s in it for the long haul, so you have no choice but to give in. “What’s wrong?” He asks again when you look at him miserably. “Now that my shoulder is better, there’s no real reason for me to be here anymore,” you murmur wistfully. You knew it would come to this eventually, yet you never seemed to make peace with it. You thought you had, but it turned out to be nothing more than a silly facade to try and hide the fact you didn’t want to leave. Alucard is silent, but the look of shock on his face speaks volumes. He hadn’t even considered the idea that you would leave. Like you, he had fallen into the routine of navigating around you and your ways, as if you had always been there at the castle. It’s just so easy and even when he had tried to fight it he found himself becoming even more compelled by you. “I suppose so,” he answers finally, crestfallen. A lump forms in your throat when you look at him, seeing how dejected he appears. “I’m sorry.” It’s pitiful, but you don’t know what else to say. To impose yourself further on him and his hospitality after he had already saved your life just seemed selfish and yet it felt as equally unkind to simply abandon him. He chuckles, a sad, sardonic sound beneath its silken lilt. “There’s no need to be,” he states, oddly cold despite the softness of his voice, “after all, there’s no reason for you to stay anymore is there?” It hurts. You don’t want it to and you know that you have no right to be but it penetrates deep, twisting and taking root inside. “No,” your whisper, scared your voice will break, “I guess not.” Confused, Alucard regards your drop in mood. He had anticipated that you would be happy to finally be able to continue on with your life, no longer bound to him or the castle for care of your injury. Yet here you stand, trying so hard to keep yourself from breaking. Your eyes glisten and you catch your lip between your teeth; all telltale signs. Alucard realizes with alarming clarity that he’s upset you, because you don’t want to leave. Just like he doesn’t want you to go, either. It was defensive, to lash out, and all it’s done is serve as further reasoning for you to remove yourself from his life. He’s such an idiot. “Wait,” he suddenly says and it breaks his heart, as dead as he had considered it to be, when you look at him with such a forlorn expression. You aren’t sure what to expect but you force yourself not to hope, knowing that it could and most likely would bite you. So you’re pleasantly surprised when it’s not what you anticipated at all. “Do you,” he starts, awkwardly, voice alight with

trepidation, “not want to go?” With wide eyes you regard him, startled. Hearing it out in the open so brazenly has your mind stuttering, your body stiff. Of course it was true, but that wasn’t what had you shocked. It was the fact that, for a brief moment, you saw relief flash in his eyes. But maybe you were wrong. Or maybe he was wrong. You stare at one another in silence, neither able to break the stalemate of truths exposed. In such a relatively short time you’d both grown accustomed to each other's presence and, if you were being completely honest, you were scared to leave the safety of the castle. Out there you were just one woman, no allies, no home, nothing. It’s sobering to know that your situation hadn’t changed since the first time he had asked you about leaving, what you would do and where would you go once you were healed and you’re not quite sure you’re ready to admit how pathetic it made you feel. “No,” you swallow thickly, blinking away stubborn tears, “I don’t.” You remind him of a child, afraid. You’re trying to make yourself as small as you can, no doubt hoping that the ground would open up beneath your feet and swallow you whole. It stirs something in him, the memory of a feeling brought on by your plight; the night that his mother was burned alive and his father turned his back on humanity as a whole. The same feeling he felt when Sumi and Taka betrayed him. Lost. A sorrowful, imploring look flits across Alucard's face and his fingers itch, wanting to offer you comfort. His mother would run her fingers through his hair, murmuring soft words of encouragement to help lift his spirits. “Then you don’t have to go anywhere.” Alucard offers instead, afraid of what such tenderness may invite. Your warmth still set him on edge, but slowly and surely he was coming around to the idea of being as he once was; open and inviting without the need to guard himself. If there was anyone he could see himself opening up to again it would be you. “I have been ignorant to your situation,” he sighs, looking away in shame, “I should have known how difficult it is to pick up the pieces of one's life after they’ve been shattered, especially without help. I’m— I’m sorry.” It’s a quiet admission, shrouded in misery and mystery. He had yet to reveal much about himself, but you could fathom that he had been the receiver of much sorrow in his lifetime so far from the darkness he carried with him like a ball and chain. It tugged at your heart to see him so isolated from the very world itself, threatening to tear it apart. You quickly swipe at your eyes, trying in vain to banish the tears that broke free, warm trails lining your cheeks. “Don’t be, Alucard,” you inhale deeply, trying to ground yourself. You can’t stand the sudden look of guilt on his face for making you cry. “I should have told you about how I felt,” your voice trembles and you scowl at yourself, feeling silly, “I should have been honest instead of hiding it away like an idiot.” Crossing your arms tightly over your chest you try to focus on something else, though it’s hard when all you can see blurs with your tears. You angrily wipe at them, frustrated, until your hands are gently taken away by his, the grasp warm and comforting. “I don’t think you’re an idiot,” he murmurs, looking over your face with a gentle expression. Your mouth is slightly parted with shock and your eyes, rimmed red and shimmering, are wide and locked onto him. “I think you’re so very human.” The tenderness in which the words are said, and the endearing meaning behind them, sends your heart soaring and you can’t help the smile that comes to your lips. A soft, breathless laugh passes your lips with ease, the tension leaving your shoulders. Your tears start anew and for a moment Alucard thinks he’s done something wrong, but from the way your laughter mingles with your shaky breaths he knows that isn’t the case. He, too, smiles at the warmth seeping back into you, the dark melancholy that had hung over you like a veil lifting and he lets go of your hands slowly. Neither of you comment on the way

you long for the contact to return; the simple, fragile bond inspiring a sense of yearning. “Are you alright?” He asks once you seem to have regained control of yourself, your tears having stopped and your gentle peels of laughter melting away. “I am,” you hum, looking at him with an intense fondness that he had seldom seen before. You are so bright in that moment, all because he has given you a place to belong, and it gives him hope. If only his father could have had such a chance, perhaps things may have turned out differently for him.

#Castlevania #Castlevania Netflix #Castlevania Imagine #Castlevania Imagines #Alucard #Alucard Imagine #Alucard Imagines #Adrian Tepes #Adrian Tepes Imagine #Adrian Tepes Imagines #Adrian Fahrenheit Tepes #Adrian Fahrenheit Tepes Imagine #Adrian Fahrenheit Tepes Imagines #Alucard x Reader #Adrian Tepes x Reader #Adrian Fahrenheit Tepes x Reader

[babyflossy]

eccedentesiast (n)

eccedentesiast (n)  someone who hides pain behind a smile

pairing; bodyguard!haechan x reader

summary; haechan is nothing more than someone employed to keep you safe. at least, that’s what you keep telling yourself. but why is it so hard to just see him as that?

genre/warnings; bodyguard au, angst (?), fluff, violence, a poisoning, half-edited, also i'm sorry that hyunjin is always my go to for another male lead lmao my skz bias is showing

word count; 7k baby

a/n; after nearly 3 months of writer’s block, i humbly offer you body guard haechan. i’m sorry if it sucks, i’m kinda rusty to get back into writing. any feedback is greatly appreciated!

it’s sunny outside, the golden morning rays of sunlight filtering through the blinds and onto your face. they warm the skin they manage to reach and you bask in the calmness, wrapped in soft bedsheets and silk bedclothes. if you squint into the light you can see the dust particles float around the beams, slowly swimming through around the window frame. the first noise you hear is a bird singing softly outside and a thought in the back of your mind reminds you it’s almost too peaceful. there must be a meeting going on downstairs, one you’re not trusted to appear at.

a knock on your door brings you back to reality and a sigh claws its way up your throat. your father’s personal assistant, sasha, pokes her head around the door and smiles slightly at your bed hair and the mismatched socks poking out the bottom of your duvet. “your father wants you downstairs in five minutes.”

“and what if i don’t?” in an attempt at appearing nonchalant you fix your gaze on the dying plant on your windowsill, refusing to meet her eyes.

“there’s someone you need to meet,” sasha says, piquing your interest and you give up on trying to defy your father’s wishes in favour of your curiosity. “so be down in five minutes, okay?”

the door clicks shut quietly and you check the time on your phone. 10:49am.

finally letting your sigh out and pushing your covers off your cold body, you reach for the first garment of clothing you spot. it’s a purple hoodie you stole from one of your exes and you pull it over your head with a strange sense on loneliness. how long had it been since you had contacted your college friends?

right before you leave the safe confines of your bedroom, a voice floats from the kitchen, one you don’t recognise. it strikes another wave of curiosity through you, this time accompanied by something akin to excitement. the hardwood floors of the hallway are slippery under your socks and you hurry down the stairs to the source of your interest.

whoever you had been expecting, none of them come close to the boy stood next to your dining table. a warm mop of hair sits on top of high cheekbones and tanned skin. the air leaves your lungs momentarily when his eyes meet yours, dark and calculating. you expect him to offer you a polite smile as most of your father’s business partners do, but his face remains in a stern mask. in would be unsettling if you had met in any other circumstances, you’re sure.

“y/n,” the voice of your father forces you to switch your gaze to him and you shoot him a questioning look. it holds no warmth, only looking for answers. “this is haechan,” the boy nods slightly in your direction at the mention of his name, “he’s your new bodyguard.”

you can’t help but let your eyebrows raise comically. that was probably the last thing you were expecting this morning. sure, there had been bodyguards in your past, but none of them stayed very long and you thought your parents had given up on finding one. “bodyguard?” there’s almost a mocking tone to your words and you like the way it makes your father sigh. “i thought you gave up after the last one.”

in the corner of your eyes, you see haechan’s brows quirk the slightest amount in what you think could be amusement. clearly, he has a lot to learn if he thinks he’ll last long.

“there’ve been some rather,” haechan focuses on your dad again as he starts speaking and your glad for the break from his eye contact. “unpleasant things being said about our family at the moment, and we think it’s best to keep an eye on you. so don’t do anything stupid.”

ah, you think, so that’s what he’s doing. this isn’t just to keep you safe, this is a way for your parents to monitor what you do and who you see, a glorified babysitter. that fact doesn’t sit well with you and you make a mental promise to make this as hard as possible for your new caretaker.

with a spark in your eyes you nod at your father and muster up the sweetest smile you can. “of course, father. anything for you.” the change in your voice doesn’t go unnoticed and he sends you a challenging glare which you choose to ignore, instead opting to smile at the taller boy and escape back up to your bedroom.

*

for the rest of the morning, haechan stands guard outside your bedroom door. as you had fled the thick atmosphere in the kitchen he'd followed behind with quick steps and he wasn't happy at being banished to the hallway. you weren't entirely sure what danger he thought would be lurking around your house at midday on a sunday, but he was on edge regardless.

finally free once again from the eyes of your steadily increasing number of babysitters, you let yourself fall onto your bed.

your own father doesn't trust you enough to live your life without the constant supervision of someone he decides is more credible than you. it hurts. it always does whenever he fails to conceal the way his job is more important than you are to him, his own daughter.

it hurts but you can't let it show. there's something powerful about appearing indifferent to things that are supposed to affect you, but maybe that's just founded on years of your parents missing important milestones. your first dance recital, your first win at a science fair, the first day of high school, the moment you found out about your college scholarship. none of it mattered to them, because nothing you ever did matters to them.

maybe this was an opportunity. an opportunity to get them to care about something more than their questionable business deals.

with a new mindset, you pull yourself away from the plush sheets and change into something other than a hoodie and fluffy socks.

"where are we going?" it's technically the first time you've actually heard haechan say anything to you, and his voice is surprisingly smooth. it's honey-like and velvety and way too appealing to listen to.

"shopping." it's stupid, but as you pass him you can't help but try and speed up, pathetically trying to outwalk him on your way to the garage. there's the distinctive sound of a hushed laugh behind you and the sound catches you off guard for a second. why do you like it so much?

a personal chauffeur drives you and haechan sat in the front seat leaving you alone in the back. the air is still and the silence is almost painful. you type away on your phone just to distract yourself from the fact you don't think you've ever been this quiet for this long before. haechan doesn't seem to notice the awkward tension in the car, however, and busies himself glaring at every car that passes.

for a sunday, the mall is busy and you find yourself stealthily dodging people who get in your way. haechan draws some stares as he follows close behind you, must less scared about bumping into people than you are. it's understandable– the all black get-up he's wearing makes him look a lot more menacing than he did in your family kitchen. along with his height and his inability to break eye contact first, it's quite a scary mix.

after a few minutes of walking in silence, you decide to at least try and make conversation. the one sentence he's said to you doesn't seem like enough for people set to spend all day every day together.

"how long have you been doing this?" the attempt is weak, but haechan seems surprised you've said anything to him. the focus of his stare switches to you and you suddenly feel small under it.

"long enough." before you can ask anything else, the surroundings have once again captured his attention and anything you say is drowned out by the indecipherable chatter around you. the scrutiny he puts everything around him under just from his gaze is admirable, and for a bodyguard, he certainly does tick all the boxes.

you're barely able to contain your sigh as you decide to take a different approach to gain his attention.

the first few shops you drag him into are innocent trips to buy clothes; there's a party you've been invited to in a few months and you have yet to find a suitable outfit. every attempt you make is ignored skillfully, every dress, skirt and pair of short shorts you hold up he pays no attention to.

when you've finally had enough, you spot a lingerie store with a wicked sense of delight.

"you can wait outside for this one," you tease with a smirk and an airy wave. at first, you're sure he's about to protest until he sees what shop you're leading him into and complies, stopping by the entrance to the store. as if to rub it in more, you taunt him once more. "unless you're curious what i wear underneath my clothes?" as you turn to head inside, you swear you see the faintest taint of pink over his tanned cheeks.

*

over the next few weeks, haechan seems to understand why none of your previous bodyguards have lasted long. it's also clear to him you'll do almost anything just to piss off your father, anything to get a reaction from him. in a way he feels sorry for you, having to go to such extremes for attention only to be shouted at by the one person who should care about you the most.

haechan has also learned to not mention your mother at all in any conversation where she's not present, as it without fail turns whatever mood you're in into a worse one. that's a whole other issue he doesn't want to rush into, however, and usually lets you do whatever you want.

after the first week, you'd finally started warming up to the idea of having him around you all the time. as much as you hated to admit, it was quite nice to have someone around whose primary role was to care about you.

it had been a long day, and it vaguely concerns haechan when you rush into your bedroom faster than usual, letting the door slam shut with a bang.

he doesn't hear anything else from you until after night has fallen and crying seeps into the hallway.

on instinct, it fills him with an anxious sort of unease and he knocks on your door. in the silence of the hallway, it's clear you're surprised to be disturbed as you stop sniffling for a second before opening the door slightly.

"are you okay?" you hear something in his voice that you haven't before; concern. every time haechan's shown worry or apprehension so far it's been in response to your surroundings, to the people around you. hearing such blatant worry for nothing other than your mental wellbeing only makes the tears fall faster and he doesn't know what to do.

all of his previous clients have been strictly physical protection, nothing similar to the struggles that are currently troubling you. with no clue what else to do, he slips in through the small crack in your door and envelopes his arms around you. the action is unexpected and you tense in surprise before melting into his embrace.

after a few minutes stood by the door, you let him pull you back to your bed, sitting against the headboard so you can rest your head in his lap. his fingers scrape gently through over your scalp and you can feel yourself being pulled into sleep.

a nagging thought in the back of your mind reminds you this is haechan, your bodyguard. nothing more, nothing less, just someone your father employed to keep you safe. in your fragile mental state, you decide to let yourself ignore that one night and let someone care for you.

in the morning, neither of mention the events that transpired the night before. you'd woken up to an empty bed, something you were eternally grateful for as you don't think you handle seeing him again so soon. the morning seems to drag on and you take your time getting ready as a distraction.

haechan had seen you in your most vulnerable state, and even though you hadn't told him the reason for your breakdown, you were sure he could probably guess. it seemed every day you and your father would fight about more insignificant things. it pained him to watch, but it wasn't his place to say anything.

when you finally emerge from your bedroom, haechan meets your eyes and offers you a fleeting smile before his features settle into their familiar glare.

life goes on, you suppose.

*

a rare type of excitement pumps through you as you stare at haechan through the mirror of your dressing table. recently he'd been spending more time sat in your bedroom than stood outside it. it was a nice change, and you felt less alone when you sit to do homework into the early hours of the morning.

currently, he flips through a book he'd picked off your desk and he frowns at it in confusion. "you understand this?" he mumbles as he stares at the words on the page.

with a laugh, you realise he's reading your intro to classical mechanics textbook and stand to take it from his hands. "that's up for debate."

he watches you push yourself onto your tiptoes to put it back on the top shelf and averts his gaze when the dress you're wearing rides up your thighs. it was ridiculous how you'd convinced him to take you to this stupid college party he was sure wouldn't end well, but here is he. "are you nearly ready? you said it starts at eight?"

you choke down another laugh as you stare at the clock, "haechan," you start with a smirk, "i have to be fashionably late. it's part of my brand."

"your what?"

"my brand," at his still confused expression, you turn back around from the mirror to face him again, "i have an image to keep up."

"whatever you say, princess." the new name catches you off guard and you feel your stomach flip. careful to keep your expression neutral, you stand and grab your bag, suddenly wanting to be anywhere other than a confined space with haechan.

a party, as it turns out, is exactly what you need.

the moment your feet cross over the doorframe, you can feel your worries slip away, replaced by the hum of the music. quickly, you spot some of your friends from college and make your way over, a cup already being handed to you. a few people stare as you walk in, something you're used to, but today they stare for longer than usual and it takes a moment to realise they're staring at haechan.

as always, he's dressed in all black, only he's swapped his combat boots and tactical jacket for black sneakers and hoodie. for a college party, he looks too well dressed, but it's appreciated by many as he walks through the room.

it's clear to you he's unused to this type of attention and you grab his hand to pull him to where you and your friends stand. he shoots you a look before, as usual, starting to survey the people around.

"is this your boyfriend?" a short girl from your business class asks, you think her name is lily–or maybe laila. haechan doesn't hear and you're grateful as you shake your head and explain he's your bodyguard. she raises her eyebrows and scans his profile again. the action irks something inside you that you desperately push down. "is he single then?"

the emotion that shoots through you is so obviously jealously and yet you try and remain nonchalant, laughing it off and acting like you didn't want her to be swallowed by the ground. haechan's there for you, not for anyone else, and you want her to know that.

after flitting around the room talking to different people you know, some who you meet for the first time, you can feel the drinks start to take their toll. whoever decided a bottomless bar was a good idea for a party like this was horrendously wrong, and your head spins whilst a boy talks to you about an apprenticeship he's been offered.

"of course, i don't need the money, that's not why i'm doing it." haechan doesn't fail to conceal his surprise, eyebrows raising as he eyes you over the rim of your glass. you send back a look that you hope says he's an asshole, but in your state, you can't be sure how well you've achieved it. "i'm doing it for the experience." when it's appropriate, you nod along to what he's saying but it obvious you don't care and he leaves for someone else soon after.

"what's his problem?" haechan murmurs into your ear. you have to suppress a shiver at the proximity and shrug as you don't trust your voice.

"hyunjin, hey!" you shout when you spot a familiar face in the see of people, shooting through throngs of people to the tall boy. somewhere along the way to the bar, haechan loses sight of you, craning his neck to try and find the direction you escaped to.

hyunjin’s smile is wide and you fail to notice the pleased sweep of his eyes over your exposed chest. as you speak, he slowly moves closer to you, his breath hitting your neck and making you squirm. suddenly the music seems louder, he seems closer and you try to escape his grip when his hands settle on your waist.

you try to move away but you feel your head spin harshly and you have to catch the edge of the bar to stop yourself falling into him.

"you drunk enough." a familiar hand reaches to snatch the martini out of your hand, a frown taking over his soft features.

despite the displeasure on his face, you’re grateful to see him. he recognises the relief in the  sigh you let out, and eyes  you with concern. just as he’s about to ask you what’s wrong, hyunjin turns back around from the bartender and seems shocks to see haechan so close to you. he clearly doesn’t realise the man beside you is your bodyguard and shoots him a glare. “we were just heading out, actually.” hyunjin grabs hold of your wrist and tugs you towards him and you can’t help but yelp at the sudden movement.

“get your hands off her,” haechan’s voice is stony and almost unrecognisable. you chance a glance to his face and you feel a lick of fear at the cold glare on his face. if you thought he looked intimidating staring at strangers, this overpowers it tenfold. something dangerous shines behind his eyes and he encases hyunjin’s wrist in his hand, tightening his hold until he lets go of you.

“hey, what’s your problem?” hyunjin’s voice is cocky and you pray he shuts up before he digs a deeper whole for himself. “she wants to come home with me.”

“you think she’s in any state to go home with you, huh?” at the words, hyunjin seems to realise what he’s said and tries to backtrack, failing miserably. “leave her alone, yeah? before i throw you out of here.”

*

it's silent as haechan helps you back to the car, his jaw set in a hard line. you want to say something to ease the tension but you don't want to upset him. it's not your fault, but the cold look on his face is engrained behind you eyelids and you feel a wave of fear flush through you. you shouldn't be scared of him, but he looked so ready to kill hyunjin that you can't help but feel a new sense of unease next to him.

"are you okay?" he crouches next to the passenger seat after buckling your seatbelt for you, features settling back into the warmth you're used to. no matter how hard you try to hide your expression, he can easily see the fear in your eyes and sighs, letting his head drop between his arms. "i'm sorry for scaring you," he rests a hand on your thigh that has you heart rate speeding up despite your thoughts less than five minutes ago. "but it's my job to protect you, okay?" you say nothing in response.

"can we get pizza?" the shops whiz past your eyes as haechan drives, the streetlights blurring together. he shoots you a sideways look before sighing and nodding, trying to ignore the way your victorious smile makes him feel.

"we'll get takeout, okay? you wait in the car."

you would've listened to him, you really would have, if you hadn't seen a small knife drop from his pocket and onto the pavement. if you were sober, you would've just told him when he returned to the car, but in your drunken state, that knife seemed like haechan's most prized possession.

you slip out of the car on shaky legs, noticing the empty streets with fleeting anxiety but bend down to pick the knife up. right above the hand grip a tiny l.h. is engraved and you smile slightly. just as you turn to make your way back to the car, something hard hits the back of your head and you yelp.

haechan stands in the empty pizza shop waiting for the workers to finish your order. he can still feel the remaining wisps of anger from his standoff with that boy you were talking to, but tries to ignore it for your sake. the posters on the wall catch his attention and he reads about the movies showing downtown, mentally noting the ones he knows you will eventually drag him to see.

the workers are rushing around behind the counter and he sighs, excited to get back into the warmth of the car and finally get back to the house.

the excitement drains out of him when he hears a scream. a scream that sounds identical to yours.

he's outside in a flash, eyes shooting every direction to see where the noise came from. the empty passenger seat of the car catches his eye and he swears loudly. reaching for his knife, he stills when he feels the pocket empty, instead grabbing the pistol from the inside of his jacket.

a muffled cry escapes an alley next to the shop and he sprints towards the sound, turning the corner and seeing you being pulled further into the darkness. for a fraction of a second, his eyes meet yours and the teary panic he sees is enough to have him seeing red. the man pulling you back hasn't noticed him yet and he uses this to his advantage, pulling his fist back and launching it at your attacker's face. it's masked and you're unable to see the damage, but a crack rings out.

you feel infinitely more sober than you did in the car and you try to pull yourself out of the man's arms but your head feels heavy and you sway dangerously. your eyes shut as you fall forwards, the man's arm around you stopping you from falling. the angle gives haechan the perfect shot and you scream as a bang rings out, echoing through your head painfully. the arms around you disappear and you lurch forwards until something catches you. you scream again and try and get away from whoever's holding you.

"hey, hey, it's me, it's me." haechan's voice is like music to your ears and you allow yourself to go limp in his grip, sobs starting to wrack your body. you can feel him carrying you back to the car, the pizza long forgotten. when he places you down in the passenger seat again, you don't want to let go of him and he has to pry your hands off him. "you're okay," he whispers as he holds you, rubbing a hand up and down your back soothing. "we're fine."

even if in that moment, everything feels the polar opposite of fine, something about the way he says it makes you want more than anything to believe him.

*

the walls of your bedroom muffle the voices from downstairs. haechan had carried you upstairs and settled you into your bed before whispering about a debriefing he had to attend. and now here you sit, alone and shaking, reliving the moments you had thought your life may have been over. there's still a throbbing to your head and you will your eyes to shut and for sleep to overtake you, but every time you try the memories bubble back up to the surface. it's exhausting, but you eventually come to terms with knowing you won't be able to sleep until haechan comes back.

the scariest thing is, every time you think about those last few moments before haechan turned up, you really thought you would never see him again. you thought you would never see the daylight again, and yet your thoughts weren't plagued with messages for your parents, or things you wished you had told your friends. no, the only person you thought of was haechan.

you know what that means, but you try and ignore the feeling growing in your chest, turning over and burrowing your head into your pillows.

for the next hour, you slip in and out of shallow sleep as you wait for the meeting to finish. you're somewhere between the two when you hear the door click and your bed dip beside you. haechan must've known you wouldn't be able to sleep and he sits against your headboard like the last time he was in your bed, pulling your head into his lap gently.

"how're you feeling?" the words are whispered into the air and you hate how much his voice calms you.

"my head hurts." haechan pities the pain in your voice and looks down at the awkward angle of you neck, an internal battle waging in his head.

a few long seconds later and he's slipping further into your bed, pulling you up so your head is resting in the crook of his neck. "c'mere." the position is much more comfortable, and you sigh in contentment, trying to ignore the smell of his cologne that's slowly overtaking your senses.

you bask in the silence for a few minutes, trying to fall back asleep before realising you need to tel him what's plaguing your mind. in the safety of his neck, you mumble to try and conserve the peace in the room. "y'know, i really thought i was gonna die back there–"

"stop." haechan reaches one of his arms around your shoulders and pulls you further into him. the act is so gentle, as if you're made of glass and he mumbles his words into the top of your head. "you don't need to do this."

"but i want you to know," with a sense of desperation, you pull away from his embrace to meet his eyes. they're sad, and you know you probably look like a complete wreck right now, but you can't bring yourself to care. the only thing you can focus on is how much you want him to know his importance in your life. "i didn't think of my parents. i thought of y–"

"stop, really. you'll regret doing this." but you can't imagine regretting telling him anything. you've only known him for a few months, and yet you've never held trust in someone like this before.

sick of watching him avoid your gaze, you bury your face back into his neck and smile at the shiver that rolls down his spine when you speak against his skin. "i never liked them. they never cared about anything i did. i only ever wanted to make them proud, but they wouldn't even listen to me."

haechan's in dangerous territory, and he knows it. he can't sit here and insult his employers, but he's seen the way they treat you. as if you've never done anything worthwhile, but they were never there to see your achievements. he battles his thoughts for a few moments, trying to think of the best response. "they do care for you, they just can't show it well." it's weak, even he can tell, but he needs to say something. he wants nothing more than to shelter you from them, take you away from this house and show you what it's like to have someone be proud of you, to care for you wholeheartedly. but he can't, it's stupid to even entertain that thought.

"you care more than they do," the tone you speak with is bitter, and you pull away once again to look up at him. somewhere in the deep brown of his eyes is an emotion you think is something akin to love, but you think you might be imagining it. haechan's paid to be here, you need to remember. "but then i guess you're paid to."

"hey–" this is exactly where he didn't want the conversation to go, because he can't tell you what he really thinks whilst still in the confines of your house, not where your parents could hear every word.

"i'm not wrong, though, am i? you're only here because they're paying you–"

"i would've left if i didn't care."

you sigh and let yourself fall back into his embrace. "i'm gonna pretend like i believe you, just for tonight." no more words are exchanged, but he leans down to press a delicate kiss to the exposed skin on your forehead. the act is so tender, so familiar, you feel tears line your eyes. it's stupid, to cry at being held like this, but in a desolate horizon, haechan is your beaming spark of hope.

*

another month floats by and you and haechan continue your relationship than slips so easily between professional and something more than. it leaves you confused a lot of the time, but you try and ignore it, instead deciding to focus on the present.

the present right now leaves you stood in front of a fancy restaurant, a booking for you and one of you childhood friends ready and waiting. "i'll be by the door, scream if you need me, okay?" you chuckle at the serious tone of haechan's voice before hurrying over to your table where jennie sits waiting.

the girl stands when you near her, a wide smile taking over her features as she pulls you into a hug "how have you been? i haven't seen you in years!"

over the first course of food, you catch up about each other's lives, chatting about the various things you’ve been involved in recently. after what jennie deems an appropriate amount of time, she shifts her attention to the boy stood behind you.

"is that your boyfriend." her curious eyes scan over haechan who, as promised, stands by the door, staring at his phone. the sight makes you smile as you realise he's probably playing candy crush or some other stupid game to pass the time.

"no," you chuckle, although you would love more than anything to say yes, to be able to sit and claim him as yours, and no one else's. but you can't lie to jennie, as much as you want to. "it's just haechan, my bodyguard." just haechan sounds wrong coming from your lips.

"bodyguard? your dad's still got a lot of enemies, huh?" jennie shoots you a concerned frown which you try and laugh off. out of all the friends you've ever had, jennie's the only one with a somewhat similar upbringing; moving around a lot, feeling as if your parents are absent for more than half of your childhood. you had bonded over your situations in middle school and had kept in touch even when she moved to new zealand for sixth grade.

just as she's telling you about her new job at a fashion company, you blurt out the question bothering you."does the lemonade taste weird to you?" it's metallic almost on your tongue and it catches you off guard.

"no, i think it's just a bit tangy."

"oh, yeah probably" you laugh airily, but a cold wave on unease washes through you. it's unclear what's causing your anxiety, and you're suddenly confused why you're even on edge. on instinct, you look for haechan and seeing him still leaning on the wall by the door gives you a small sense of calm.

"are you sure? you look a bit–" jennie's words are drowned out in your mind by the wheezing of your throat. it's uncomfortable, as if someone is squeezing your lungs, trapping the air out, and preventing you from taking a full breath in.

"yeah, do you think we could step outside for a sec? i think i need some fresh air." the chair scrapes under you but you ignore it and make a beeline for the side door, clean air the only thought on your mind.

"of course, are you sure you're okay." outside, you fail to find the relief you're looking for and try to swallow down the metallic taste. you find it difficult to, however, and you concentrate on the movement as jennie crouches in front of you. you hadn't even realised you'd sat down.

unable to resist any longer, you give up and speak up in a hoarse voice. "can you go get haechan?" jennie nods and disappears for a minute. in the quiet, the only thing you can hear is your laboured breathing and the distant chatter from inside. it sounds like you're underwater, the voices seem so far away, as if you're sinking.

"what's wrong?" haechan's before you in an instant, hands gripping the sides of your face and eyes scanning your body for any obvious injuries. you try to speak but nothing comes out and you feel your legs give way underneath you, sliding down the wall onto the ground.

"i don't know–" the voice that speaks doesn't sound like you're own. it's hoarse and breathless and you can feel yourself losing the strength to speak again.

"she said the drink tasted weird." haechan's blood runs cold at jennie's words. you don't fail to notice the panic in his eyes and it does nothing to calm your now racing heartbeat. you feel a chill come over you and when you reach your hands up to find haechan's they shake violently.

despite the alarm on his face, his voice is calm and authoritative and it reminds you of the first time you had ever heard him speak. you wish fleetingly to go back to that moment, to be able to meet him for the first time again. "call an ambulance."

"what?" jennie's voice is close by but muffled by your own heartbeat that pounds in your ears.

"call an ambulance and tell them she's been poisoned." you feel his arms gently set you onto your side before his words register in your head. “try and breathe for me, princess.” the action is futile and you try so hard to do as he says but your head feels heavier with every feeble motion of your lungs.

“you’re gonna be fine, baby.” it's the last thing you hear before your hearing gives up on you. haechan's hands finally find you own, skin hot against yours, and you try to squeeze them but you can't get your fingers to move. you feel like a statue, watching the scene in front of play out with no strength to do anything.

black spots start toying at the edge of your vision and you feel the ground beneath your shoulder. you're on your side, you think. but you can't remember moving anymore.

haechan's hands remain in yours and you try to take a breath in, feeling your lungs expand weakly before the last little bit of energy drains out of you. the last thing you see is haechan's face, an expression of terror on his face as he shakes your shoulders. his mouth is moving but you can't hear anything he's saying, instead letting the darkness overcome your senses.

it's calming, almost, the warm embrace of sleep. you feel like you haven't slept in years, maybe never.  with an empty feeling settling inside you and haechan’s face burning behind your eyelids, you allow yourself to slip into the blackness.

*

the first thing you're aware of is a warmth over your arm. and then a beeping. and then painfully bright light shining behind your eyelids. the smell of harsh disinfectant fills your nose and you feel starchy sheets underneath your bare legs. an attempt to breathe in leaves you coughing painfully as you realise your lungs feel like they’re made of sandpaper.

the sound awakens haechan from his light sleep, eyes shooting open to find you squinting down at him. everything is too bright and you try to bring a hand up to cover them before finding it covered in wires. you hand is pushed back down and a cup of water is brought to your lips. it feels heavenly against your dry throat and you try to drink more before it's pulled out of your reach.

"hey, hey, slow down," the familiar tone is a welcome change and you find your mind coming up blank as to where you are. haechan smiles down at you, a soft glimmer to his eyes, one you haven't seen in what feels like so long. "the nurse said you shouldn't drink too much yet."

"what happened?" your voice is scratchy and painful to listen to. the boy before you smiles sadly and sits on the edge of the bed after pushing the barrier down. you've managed to work out you're in a hospital, but you're still unable to place the reason behind your visit.

"you were poisoned." the words trigger something in your brain and your memories come flooding back. the lemonade, the confusion, the darkness. it's the second time you've been close to death, and the second time haechan's been the last thought on your mind. you promise yourself you won't let him slip away, not this time.

"i remember," his fingers interlace with yours, thumb rubbing along the back of your hand. "i thought i was gonna die."

"you nearly did," a new voice enters the room and you turn to see a tall woman in a white coat. "and you would have done if it wasn't for this man's quick thinking." she waves a clipboard in haechan's direction and he looks away, embarrassed to be in the spotlight. "the paramedics knew exactly what they were turning up to, cut a lot of time for treatment.” the words make haechan blush.

the doctor stays for a while longer, explaining your treatment plan and adjusting your medications. she gives you some stronger painkillers and says you should be fine to leave after another night of observation.

as soon as you're alone again, you turn to haechan, only to find he's already staring at you. "you know what i'm gonna say." the words are whispered and you let him move up the bed to lie beside you.

"just say it, get it over with." unlike last time, his voice doesn't sound as hopeless and you wonder if he prepared himself for this conversation. it was inevitable, to be fair.

"you were my last thought." haechan's cologne is strong in your nose as you drop your head onto his shoulder. "i wasn't scared about dying, haechan, i was scared about never seeing you again." the tears fill your eyes and you do nothing to stop them falling onto haechan's hoodie.

his shoulder moves when he sighs, an arm wrapping around your shoulders and your taken back to the last time you were sat like this. "i love you, i need you to know that, okay?" it's all you can hope to hear, but you know he hasn't stopped talking yet. "but i don't know if we can do this."

"why can't we just leave?" your voice is pleading and it pulls at haechan's heartstrings. he wants to badly to give in, but the future would be too uncertain.

"your parents would hunt us down."

"then let's flee the country, i don't care–"

"you can't just leave your parents–"

"where are they?" when you had woken up, you hadn't failed to notice their lack of presence and it didn't hurt as much as it should have anymore. a guilt look passes behind haechan's eyes and he doesn't even need to say it for you to understand.

"on a business trip."

"let's just go, haechan. they don't want us here anymore."

the desperate glimmer in your eyes is enough to convince haechan, who knows he would have agreed to it anyway. he would always agree with you. "if you want to. i'll do anything for you princess."

when you turn to face him, the proximity between your faces is significantly less than what you expected and you find your breath hitching in your throat. it catches him off guard as well and you watch his eyes flicker down to your lips and back up to your eyes quickly. you can’t help but smirk as you lean in, resting your free hand on his chest to push yourself up to meet his lips.

the kiss is warm and comforting and everything you need in that moment. he slips a hand around your waist and pulls you closer to him, using his other one to cup your jaw and tilt your head up. the angle allows you to deepen the kiss and haechan sighs into it. a few seconds pass and your lungs are burning for oxygen.

you break away first, resting your forehead against his and drinking in as much air as you can before leaning back into him. right before your lips meet again, you hear the heart rate monitor speed up and your cheeks burn in embarrassment.

“why is your heart beating so fast?” haechan teases with a laugh.

“shut up.” you huff out before closing the distance one again and meeting his lips with a new sense of hope filling you.

a/n; thank you so much for reading!! it means a lot to me!!

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[dwellordream]

“...On June 26, ad 4, Augustus adopted Tiberius. Livia’s son, forty-four years old, now became officially the son of her second husband. Henceforth he is called Tiberius Julius Caesar and is clearly the man designated to succeed the emperor. As he had in the past, Augustus made provision for the possibility that Tiberius might not necessarily survive him. Agrippa Postumus had not given any evidence of being temperamentally suited for high office, but Augustus perhaps hoped that in the general way of things an unruly youth could mature into a responsible adult. Hence the emperor adopted Postumus on the same occasion.

Moreover, Tiberius was obliged, before his own adoption, to adopt his nephew Germanicus, who would thereby become Tiberius’ son and would legally have the same relationship to Tiberius as his natural son, Drusus. The marriage of Germanicus and Agrippina followed soon after, probably in the next year. There is no reason why the unconcealed manoeuvring on behalf of Germanicus should have upset Livia unnecessarily, despite the clear implications of Tacitus that it did. Germanicus, after all, was her grandson as much as was Drusus Caesar. The arrangement reinforced rather than weakened the likelihood of succession from her own line, as was to be demonstrated by events. 

The marriage would prove extremely fruitful. In time Agrippina bore Germanicus nine children, six of whom survived infancy. The first three were sons, great-grandsons of Livia: Nero, the eldest (not to be confused with his nephew Nero, the future emperor); Drusus (to be distinguished from the two more famous men of the same name: Drusus, son of Livia, and Drusus Caesar, son of Tiberius); and Gaius (destined to become emperor, and known more familiarly as Caligula). She also bore three surviving daughters, Drusilla and Livilla, and, most important, the younger Agrippina, mother of Livia’s great-great-grandson, the emperor Nero. The adoption of Tiberius in ad 4 would have been an occasion of joy and satisfaction for Livia, and would have helped to efface any lingering grief that still afflicted her over Drusus’ death.

If we are to believe Velleius, not only Livia but the whole Roman world reacted jubilantly to the new turn of events. Needless to say, his account should be treated with due caution. There was, he claims, something for everyone. Parents felt heartened about the future of their children, husbands felt secure about their wives, even property owners anticipated profits from their investments! Everyone looked forward to an era of peace and good order. A colourful exaggeration, of course, but there probably was considerable relief among Romans that the succession issue seemed at long last to be settled.

…In the immediate aftermath of the adoptions the ancient authors inevitably tend to focus on Tiberius and the campaigns he conducted in Germany and Illyricum, and they virtually ignore Agrippa Postumus, whose name was to be invoked later by sources hostile to Livia. A few details about Postumus emerge. In ad 5 he received the toga of manhood. The occasion was low-key, without any of the special honours granted Gaius and Lucius on the same occasion. It also seems to have been delayed. Postumus would have reached fourteen in ad 3, and under normal circumstances might reasonably have been expected to take the toga in that year. Something seems to be wrong. Augustus had certainly endured his share of problems with the young people in his own family. The pressures facing the younger relatives of any monarch are self evident, given the sense of importance that precedes achievement, to say nothing of the opportunists attracted to the immature and malleable, and prepared to pander to their self-importance. 

As Velleius astutely remarks, magnae fortunae comes adest adulatio (sycophancy is the comrade of high position). These pressures must have been particularly intense in the period of the Augustan settlement, when no established standards had yet evolved for the royal children and grandchildren. Gaius and Lucius, the focus of Augustus’ ambitions and hopes, caused him endless grief by their behaviour in public, clearly egged on by their supporters, and on at least one occasion Augustus felt constrained to clip their wings. Gaius’ brave but distinctly foolhardy behaviour during the siege of Artagira is surely symptomatic of the same conceit.

There is no reason to assume that Postumus would have been immune from the pressures that turned the heads of his siblings. Whatever traits of haughtiness Postumus might have displayed in his early youth, they were not serious enough to have entered the record, and the exact nature of his personal and possibly mental problems is far from clear. The ancient sources speak of his brutish and violent behaviour. Some modern scholars have suggested that he might have been mad, but the language used of him seems to denote little more than an unmanageable temperament and antisocial tendencies. 

For whatever reasons, eventually Augustus decided to remove him from the scene. The details of this expulsion are obscure. Suetonius provides the clearest statement, recording that Augustus removed Postumus (abdicavit) because of his wild character and sent him to Surrentum (Sorrento). The historian notes that Postumus grew less and less manageable and so was then sent to Planasia, a low-lying desolate island about sixteen kilometres south of Elba. Tacitus has no doubt about where the ultimate responsibility for Augustus’ actions lay. Postumus had committed no crime.

But Livia had so ensnared her elderly husband (senem Augustum) that he was induced to banish him to Planasia. Tacitus’ technique here is patent. The use of the word senem is meant to suggest that Augustus was by now senile, even though the event occurred eight years before his death. Incapable of making his own rational decisions, he would thus be at the mercy of a scheming woman, just as later Agrippina the Younger reputedly ‘‘captivated her uncle’’ Claudius (pellicit patruum). No reason is given for Livia’s supposed manoeuvre—which as usual, according to Tacitus, was conducted behind the scenes—except the standard charge that her hatred of Postumus was motivated by a stepmother’s loathing (novercalibus odiis). 

Yet nothing in the rest of Tacitus’ narrative sustains his assertion, and the historian himself admits that the general view of Romans towards the end of Augustus’ reign was that Postumus was totally unsuited for the succession, because of both his youth and his generally insolent behaviour. Moreover, Augustus had made the strength of Tiberius’ position so patently evident that Livia would hardly have considered Postumus a serious candidate. This seems to be confirmed in a remarkable passage of Tacitus which uncharacteristically reports public reservations about a potential role for Germanicus, supposedly Tiberius’ rival.

After reporting the popular view that Postumus could be ruled out, Tacitus says that people grumbled that with the accession of Tiberius they would have to put up with Livia’s impotentia, and would have to obey two adulescentes (Germanicus and Drusus) who would oppress, then tear the state apart. Tacitus concedes that even the prospect of the reasonable Germanicus and Drusus being involved in state matters caused consternation. This surely offers some gauge of how far below the horizon Postumus was to be found. The precise reason for Postumus’ removal to Sorrento, if it was not simply his personality, is not clear. The initial expulsion may have been provoked by nothing more serious than personal tension between him and his adoptive father. 

Whatever the initial reason, it soon became apparent that if Augustus had hoped that sending his adopted son out of Rome would solve the problem, he was mistaken. Dio places Postumus’ formal exile to Planasia in ad 7. If, as Suetonius claims, he was sent first to Sorrento, what might have precipitated the change in the location and the more grave status of his banishment? We have some hints in the sources. Dio suggests that one of the reasons for Augustus’ giving Germanicus preference over Postumus was that the latter spent most of his time fishing, and acquired the sobriquet of Neptune.

Now this could point simply to irresponsibility and indolence, but the picture of Postumus as an ancient Izaak Walton serenely casting his line does not fit well with the very strong tradition of someone wild and reckless. His activities may well have had a political dimension. The choice of the nickname Neptune could allude to the naval victories of his father, Marcus Agrippa. The fishing story might well belong to the period after Postumus’ relegation to Sorrento. This could have proved a risky spot to locate Postumus, because it lay just across the bay from the important naval base at Misenum that his father had established in 31 bc. The innocent fishing expeditions might have covered much more sinister activities. 

Augustus may well have concluded eventually that Postumus was too dangerous to be left in the benign surroundings of Sorrento. During Postumus’ second, more serious phase of exile, on the island of Planasia, he was placed under a military guard, a good indication that he was considered genuinely dangerous rather than just a source of irritation and embarrassment. This final stage of banishment was a formal one, for Augustus confirmed the punishment by a senatorial decree and spoke in the Senate on the occasion about his adopted son’s depraved character. Formal banishment enacted by a decree of the Senate would be intended to make a serious political statement and should have buried completely any thoughts that Postumus might have been considered a serious candidate in the succession.

We cannot rule out the possibility that Postumus became involved, perhaps as a pawn, in some serious political intrigue, if not to oust Augustus then at the very least to ensure that he would be followed not by a son of Livia but by someone from the line of Julia. If Postumus was being encouraged to think of a possible role in the succession, it might reasonably be asked who was doing the urging. Although there is no explicit statement on the question in the sources, many scholars have accepted the notion that there existed a ‘‘Julian party,’’ responsible for much of the ‘‘anti-Claudian’’ propaganda directed against Livia and Tiberius that is found in Tacitus in particular and possibly derived from the memoirs of Agrippina. 

…Whatever the intrigues in Rome, Livia’s son was able to keep himself aloof and to play the role that suited him best, that of soldier. Tiberius conducted a brilliant series of campaigns in Pannonia for which a triumph was voted in ad 9. (This was postponed when Tiberius was despatched to Germany in the aftermath of the disastrous defeat of Quinctilius Varus, in which three legions were lost.) When the Pannonian triumph was voted, Augustus made his intentions crystal clear. Various suggestions were put forward for honorific titles, such as Pannonicus, Invictus, and Pius.

The emperor, however, vetoed them all, declaring that Tiberius would have to be satisfied with the title that he would receive when he himself died. That title, of course, was Augustus. It also appears that a law was later passed to make his imperium equal to that of Augustus throughout the empire, and in early 13 his tribunician power was renewed. His son Drusus Caesar received his first accelerated promotion, designated to proceed directly to the consulship in ad 15, skipping the praetorship that should have preceded this higher office.

The virtual impregnability of Tiberius’ position should be borne in mind in any attempt to understand the final months of Augustus’ life. In the closing chapter of her husband’s principate, Livia reemerges in the record to play a central and, according to one tradition, decidedly sinister role. This is perhaps the most convoluted period of her career, where rumour and reality seem to diverge most widely. To place the events in a comprehensible context, it is necessary to note one later detail out of its chronological sequence. As we shall see, after Augustus’ death there was a rumour reported in some of the sources that Livia had murdered her husband.

In the best forensic tradition, a motive would have to be unearthed to make the charge plausible, especially since sceptics could hardly have failed to notice that Augustus had never enjoyed robust health and was already in his seventy-sixth year. Death from natural causes could hardly be considered remarkable under such circumstances. The requisite motive would indeed be produced, and the kernel of the intricate thesis that evolved is found in a brief summary of Augustus’ career by Pliny the Elder. Among the travails that afflicted the emperor, Pliny lists the abdicatio of Postumus after his adoption, Augustus’ regret after the relegation, the suspicion that a certain Fabius betrayed his secrets, and the intrigues of Livia and Tiberius. 

Pliny’s summary observations are clearly based on a more detailed source, which suggested that Augustus felt some remorse about Postumus. This simple and not improbable notion is developed by other sources into a far more complex scenario that creates an apparently plausible motive, because it could be claimed that Livia would have wanted to remove her husband before he could act on his change of heart. This reconstruction of the events is clearly reminiscent of the closing days of the reign of Claudius, when the emperor supposedly sought a rapprochement with his son Britannicus, to the disadvantage of his stepson Nero, and thereby inspired his wife Agrippina to despatch him with the poisoned mushroom.

But it is important to bear in mind that as Pliny reports the events he limits himself to the claim that Augustus regretted Postumus’ exile, without further elaboration, and although Livia and her son supposedly engaged in intrigues of some unspecified nature, Pliny assigns no criminal action to either of them. Pliny’s ‘‘skeleton account’’ is to some degree validated by Plutarch. In his essay on ‘‘Talkativeness,’’ Plutarch, in a very garbled passage, relates that a friend of Augustus named ‘‘Fulvius’’ heard the emperor lamenting the woes that had befallen his house—the deaths of Gaius and Lucius and the exile of ‘‘Postumius’’ on some false charge—which had obliged him to pass on the succession to Tiberius. He now regretted what had happened and intended (bouleuomenos) to recall his surviving grandson from exile. 

According to Plutarch’s account, Fulvius passed this information on to his wife, and she in turn passed it on to Livia, who took Augustus to task for his careless talk. The emperor made his displeasure known to Fulvius, and he and his wife in consequence committed suicide. This last detail was perhaps inspired by the famous story of Arria, who achieved immortal fame in ad 42 when she died with her husband Caecina Paetus, who had been implicated in a conspiracy against Claudius. Plutarch’s confused version of events does not inspire confidence, and in any case, although he gives Livia a more specific role than does Pliny, he follows Pliny in not attributing to Augustus any action, only supposed intentions.

Dio’s account is a much contracted one, but derived from a source that has added a very important wrinkle to the story and has Augustus taking action on his change of heart. Dio says that Livia was suspected of Augustus’ death. She was afraid, people say (hos phasi), because Augustus had secretly sailed to Planasia to see Postumus and seemed to be on the brink of seeking a reconciliation. This bald and surely implausible story, involving a round trip of some five hundred kilometres, is given its fullest treatment in Tacitus, clearly drawing on the same source as Dio. 

He says that people thought that Livia had brought about Augustus’ final illness, because a rumour entered into circulation that the emperor had gone to Planasia to visit Postumus, accompanied by a small group of intimates, including Paullus Fabius Maximus. Fabius, clearly Plutarch’s ‘‘Fulvius,’’ was a literary figure of some renown, a close friend of Ovid and Horace. He was also an intimate of Augustus, consul in 11 bc, governor of Asia, and legatus in Spain (3–2 bc). He would thus be a plausible participant in this mysterious expedition. Tacitus reports that the tears and signs of affection were enough to raise the hopes of Postumus that there was a prospect of his being recalled. (It is striking that Tacitus is ambiguous about the meeting’s purpose and is too good a historian to bring himself to claim that Augustus had gone there to commit himself to Postumus’ rehabilitation.)

Fabius Maximus supposedly told the story to his wife, Marcia, and she in turn passed it to Livia. The text of the manuscript is corrupt at this point, but Tacitus seems to say that this indiscretion came to the knowledge of Augustus (reading the text as gnarum id Caesari). The subsequent death of Fabius, Tacitus says, may or may not have been suicide (the implication is that Augustus ordered it, as Plutarch suggests). Marcia was heard at the funeral reproaching herself as the cause of her husband’s downfall (this presumably is how the story got out). 

After this detailed account Tacitus undercuts his own case when he goes on to say that Augustus died shortly afterwards, utcumque se ea res habuit. The force of this phrase is essentially ‘‘whatever the truth of the matter.’’ It hardly inspires conviction. The story of the adventurous journey to Planasia and the tearful reconciliation has generally been greeted with scepticism by modern scholars. Jameson is an exception. She uses the Arval record to argue that Augustus did take the trip, noting that on May 14 there was a meeting of the brethren for the cooption of Drusus Caesar, the son of Tiberius, into their order. Fabius Maximus and Augustus were absent from the ceremony, and submitted their votes, in favour of the co-option, by absentee ballot. But is there anything remarkable in their absence?

Clearly, the election of Tiberius’ son was not in reality a particularly important occasion, for Tiberius himself failed to attend. Moreover, Syme notes that no fewer than five other arvals were absent from this meeting, and that there could be a host of explanations for Augustus’ absence. Also, if the co-option was seen as an important family event, then it would surely have been the very worst time for Augustus to try to slip away unnoticed. The emperor was by this time in declining health, so weak that he even held audiences in the palace lying on a couch. In ad 12 he was so frail that he stopped his morning receptions for senators and asked their indulgence for his not joining them at public banquets. 

Yet we are supposed to assume that he made the arduous journey to Planasia, and that he did so without Livia realizing what he was up to. It is also important to observe that both Tacitus and Dio drew on a source claiming that Augustus was on the verge of making amends with Postumus. An actual reconciliation seems to be ruled out by the later sequence of events. Certainly he did nothing whatsoever on his return to strengthen Postumus’ position or to weaken that of Tiberius. Finally, one might ask whether Augustus could ever have seriously considered recalling Postumus. He had put him under armed guard. There were plots to rescue him. His supporters published damaging letters about the emperor. It all seems implausible. Syme suggests that the details of the journey might have been added soon after Augustus’ death, a ‘‘specimen of that corroborative detail which is all too apparent (and useful) in historical fictions.’’ Syme bases his argument in part on aesthetic considerations. The episode as it appears in Tacitus is introduced in an inartistic fashion and appears to have been grafted on as an afterthought, introducing two names, those of Fabius Maximus and his wife, Marcia, that will not be mentioned again in the Annals. Moreover, neither Pliny nor Plutarch mentions Planasia. 

…The plot described by Suetonius might then have been a last desperate effort to rescue her. In any case it seems to have come to nothing. In addition to the supposed political intrigues in the period immediately before Augustus’ death, there was no shortage of signs that the gods, too, were feeling distinctly uneasy, ranging from the usual comets and fires in the sky to more opaque portents, like a madman sitting on the chair dedicated to Julius Caesar and placing a crown on his own head, or an owl hooting on the roof of the Senate house. But Augustus seems to have had no premonition that he had little time left when he set out from Rome in August 14.

At that time Tiberius was obliged to leave the city for further service abroad, and he departed for Illyricum with a mandate to reorganise the province. Livia and Augustus joined him for the first part of the journey. This very public gesture is an affirmation of the emperor’s faith in Tiberius—a very odd signal to send if only a few months earlier he had become reconciled to Postumus and had changed his mind about who would succeed him. The party went as far as Astura, and from there followed the unusual course of taking a ship by night to catch the favourable breeze. On the sea journey Augustus contracted an illness, which began with diarrhoea. 

They skirted the coast of Campania, spent four days in Augustus’ villa at Capri to allow him to relax and recuperate, then sailed into the Gulf of Puteoli, where they were given an extravagant welcome from the passengers and crew of a ship that had just sailed in from Alexandria. They passed over to Naples, although Augustus was still weak and his diarrhoea was recurring. He managed to muster up the strength to watch a gymnastic performance. Then they continued their journey. At Beneventum the company broke up. Tiberius headed east. As Augustus began the return journey with Livia from Beneventum, his illness took a turn for the worse. Perhaps he had a sense that his end was near, as he made for an old family estate, in nearby Nola, where his father, Octavius, had died.

Augustus was not to leave Nola alive. His condition quickly grew worse, and on August 19, 14, at the ninth hour, in Suetonius’ precise report, he died. According to Tacitus, as Augustus grew more sick, some people started to suspect (suspectabant) Livia of dirty deeds (scelus). Dio is more specific, but is still cautious about the charge. He notes that Augustus used to gather figs from the tree with his own hands. She, hos phasi (as they say), cunningly smeared some of them with poison, ate the uncontaminated ones herself and offered the special ones to her husband. As can be seen in his handling of other events, Dio does seem to relish rumours of poisoning. 

He relates, for instance, that Vespasian died of fever in ad 79, but adds that some said that he was poisoned at a banquet. It was similarly said that Domitian murdered Titus in ad 81, although the written accounts agree that he died of natural causes. In the case of Augustus it may be possible to discern the origins of the rumour. Suetonius confirms that the emperor was fond of green figs from the second harvest (along with hand-made moist cheese, small fish, and coarse bread). Given Livia’s interest in the cultivation of figs (she even had one named after her), she may well have had an orchard at Nola to which she would have given special attention during her stay.

Dio in fact seems to have had little personal faith in the fig rumour, for he goes on to speak of Augustus’ death as ‘‘from this or from some other cause.’’ By its nature the fig story is unprovable yet impossible to refute. It falls in the grand tradition of such deaths, the best-known being the supposed despatch of Claudius by a poisoned mushroom. If Livia murdered Augustus, then her timing was oddly awry, for she had to go to considerable trouble to recall Tiberius, who was by then en route to Illyricum. Why not do the deed when he was still on the scene? 

It is perhaps worth bearing in mind that Livia had an interest in curative recipes. It is possible that she would have inflicted one or more of her own concoctions on her husband. In the unlikely event that he was poisoned, alternative medicine might be a more plausible culprit than the murderer’s toxin. From Beneventum, Tiberius headed for the east coast of Italy, where he took a boat to Illyricum. He had barely crossed over to the Dalmatian coast when an urgent letter from his mother caught up with him, recalling him to Nola. There are different versions of what happened next. Tacitus describes Augustus in his final hours holding a heavy conversation with his entourage about the qualifications of potential successors. Dio and Suetonius allow him a lighter agenda.

They recount that he first asked for a mirror, combed his hair and straightened his sagging jaws. Then he invited the friends in. He gave them his final instructions, ending with his famous line of finding Rome a city of clay and leaving it a city of marble. In conclusion, he asked how they would rate his performance in the grand comedy of life. He seems to have taken a high score for granted, because just like a comic actor, he asked them to give him applause for a role well played. (The curious coincidence of the comic actors brought in during Claudius’ last hours should be noted.) 

He then dismissed his friends and spoke to some visitors from Rome, asking about the health of Tiberius’ granddaughter Julia, who was ill. The most serious discrepancy arises over the part that Tiberius might have played during the emperor’s final hours. Dio preserves one tradition, which he says he found in most authorities, including the better ones, that the emperor died while his adopted son was still in Dalmatia, and that Livia for political reasons was determined to keep the death secret until he got back. Tacitus reflects a similar tradition, reporting uncertainty about whether Tiberius found Augustus dead or alive when he reached Nola. The house and the adjoining streets had been sealed off by Livia with guards, and optimistic bulletins were issued, until she was ready to release the news at a time dictated by her own needs. 

The story is reminiscent of Agrippina’s arrangements after the death of Claudius. She was similarly accused of keeping the death secret and posting guards as Claudius lay dying. The suspicions about Livia do not appear in the other extant accounts. Velleius reports that Tiberius rushed back and arrived earlier than expected, which perked up Augustus for a time. But before too long he began to fail, and died in Tiberius’ arms, asking him to carry on with their joint work.

Suetonius is even more emphatic about Tiberius’ role. He says that Augustus detained Tiberius for a whole day in private conversation, which was the last serious business that he transacted. His final moments were spent with Livia. His mind wandered as he died—he thought that forty men were carrying him away—but at the last instant he kissed his wife, with an affectionate farewell, Livia nostri coniugii memor vive, ac vale (Livia, be mindful of our marriage, and good-bye), then slipped into the quiet death that he had always hoped for.

That Livia might have kept the news of Augustus’ death secret for a time is certainly plausible—there are all sorts of sound reasons why the announcement of a politically sensitive death might be postponed, although the similar delay after Claudius’ death is disturbingly coincidental. She also may well have put pickets around the house, but no sinister connotation need be placed on the action. The final hours of Augustus would doubtless have attracted the concerned and the curious, who in such situations follow a herd instinct to keep crowded vigils. After Agrippina the Younger had been shipwrecked near Baiae in ad 59, crowds of well-wishers streamed up to her house, carrying torches.

The same would surely have happened in Nola, and some sort of control might have become necessary to give the dying emperor some peace. The house certainly became a place of pilgrimage afterwards, and was converted into some sort of shrine. The romantic account of Augustus expiring in Tiberius’ arms may be highly coloured, and Suetonius’ claim that Augustus and Tiberius spent a whole day together sounds exaggerated, given that Augustus’ health was fading so fast. 

But it is difficult to see how that whole sequence of events could simply have been invented if it did not have at least a basis of truth. In any case, rumours surrounding the events at Augustus’ deathbed were totally eclipsed by dramatic developments across the water. As an immediate consequence of the emperor’s death, Postumus also lost his life: primum facinus novi principatus fuit Postumi Agrippae caedes (the first misdeed of the new principate was the slaying of Agrippa Postumus), as Tacitus words it.

The events of this first and possibly murkiest episode of Tiberius’ reign have been much debated, and it is probably now impossible to disentangle fact from rumour and innuendo, since there is considerable ambiguity in the ancient accounts of the incident. The general outline of the events is not particularly controversial. The officer commanding the guard at Planasia executed Postumus after he had received written instructions (codicilli) to carry out the deed. Postumus had no weapons other than his powerful physique, and he put up a valiant but ultimately futile struggle. A desperate attempt by a loyal slave, Clemens, to save him was frustrated when the would-be rescuer took a slow freight ship to Planasia and arrived too late. 

After the execution, the officer then reported to Tiberius, presumably still at Nola, that the action had been carried out. He did so, as Tacitus describes it, ut mos militiae (in the military manner), presumably in the sense of a soldier reporting to his commander that his orders have been discharged. Tiberius denied vehemently that he had given any such orders. According to Tacitus, he claimed that Augustus had sent the order, to be put into force immediately after his death, and insisted that the officer would have to give an account to the Senate. Tacitus at this point adds a new wrinkle to the story, and gives a role to a figure not mentioned in any of the other sources in the context of this incident.

The codicilli, he claims, had been sent to the tribune by Augustus’ confidant Sallustius Crispus. This man was the great-nephew and adopted son of the historian Sallust. Although his family connections had opened up the opportunities for a brilliant senatorial career, Sallustius chose to fashion himself after Maecenas and seek real influence rather than the empty prominence of the Senate. He rose to the top through his energy and determination, which he managed to conceal from his contemporaries by pretending a casual or even apathetic attitude to life. 

He acquired considerable wealth, owning property in Rome, and among other landed estates he could list a copper mine in the Alps producing high-grade ore. More importantly, at least until his later years, he had the ear of both Augustus and Tiberius, as a man who bore the imperatorum secreta (secrets of the emperors). When Sallustius learned that Tiberius wanted the whole matter brought before the Senate, he grew alarmed, afraid that he personally could end up being charged. He interceded with Livia, alerting her to the danger of making public the arcana domus (the inner secrets of the house), with all that would entail—details of the advice of friends, or of the special services carried out by the soldiers—and urged her to curb her son. Beyond this general framework the details are highly obscure, and, it seems, totally speculative.

Tacitus says that Tiberius avoided raising the issue of Postumus’ death in the Senate, and Suetonius observes that he simply let the matter fade away. There would thus have been no official source of information. Yet fairly detailed narratives have been passed down, which could have come only from eyewitness accounts. In particular one has to wonder how the supposed secret dealings between Livia and Sallustius could ever have become known. This uncertainty over the source and reliability of the information clearly makes it impossible to determine who was ultimately responsible for Postumus’ death. 

Suetonius summarises the problem nicely. He states that it was not known whether Augustus had left the written instructions, on the verge of his own death, to ensure a smooth succession, or whether Livia had dictated them (dictasset) in the name of Augustus, and, if the latter, whether Tiberius had known about them. Dio categorically insists that Tiberius was directly responsible but says that he encouraged the speculation, so that some blamed Augustus, some Livia, and some even said that the centurion had acted on his own initiative.

Tacitus found Tiberius’ claim that Augustus had left instructions for the execution hard to believe, and describes this defence as a posture (simulabat), suggesting that the more likely scenario was that Tiberius and Livia hastily brought about the death, Tiberius driven by fear and she by novercalibus odiis (stepmotherly hatred). Velleius may have been aware of these speculations, for he is very cagey about Postumus’ death. He insists that ‘‘he suffered an ultimate fate’’ (habuit exitum) in a way that was appropriate to his ‘‘madness’’ ( furor). Velleius may well have been deliberately ambiguous to avoid becoming enmeshed in a contentious and sensitive issue that might reflect badly on Tiberius. 

Scholars have generally been inclined to exonerate Livia, and only Gardthausen has held that Livia was totally responsible, without even Tiberius’ complicity. Syme accuses Tacitus of supporting an imputation against Livia ‘‘which he surely knew to be false.’’ The implication of Livia has been challenged by Charlesworth in particular. He sees it as emanating from the same tradition that had her poisoning Augustus. Certainly Pliny’s brief summary imputes no criminal action against her. She seems on principle to have refrained from taking independent executive action. (The picket she set up around Augustus’ house would be the only known counterexample.)

At most, it is possible that she knew of such an order, but it seems highly unlikely that she initiated it. Even if a meeting did actually take place between Sallustius and Livia, as Tacitus alleges, this need not mean that anything sinister had necessarily been underfoot. Sallustius may have wished simply to appeal to the wisdom and experience of Livia to counter the political naïveté of a son who had spent his career on military campaigns and had not yet become adept in the complexities of political intrigue. The suppression of information about the activities of the soldiers could just as easily have been meant to refer to Augustus’ instructions as to Livia’s, in a system where secrecy for the sake of secrecy was considered a vital element in the fabric of efficient government. 

If Livia had somehow been involved with Sallustius in carrying out Augustus’ instructions, there would have had to be secret and dangerous communication between Rome and Nola, unless Sallustius was also with Augustus at the end (and Tacitus would surely have mentioned his presence). Tiberius seems largely exonerated by his own conduct. If he had been guilty, he would hardly have wanted an investigation by the Senate, and could simply have claimed that the execution was carried out on Augustus’ orders or even have reported officially that Postumus had died from natural causes. We can surely eliminate Dio’s barely tenable suggestion that the guard might have executed Postumus on its own initiative, and the hardly more convincing notion that Sallustius Crispus similarly might have acted on his own initiative.

On balance, the most plausible suspect is Augustus, although plausibility is far different from conviction. Augustus might well have issued standing orders to the tribune to execute Postumus the moment news of his own death arrived. Sallustius could well have sent the announcement of the emperor’s death in Tiberius’ name (with or without his knowledge), which could account for the centurion’s coming to Rome to make a report to Tiberius.

When he needed to, Augustus could behave quite ruthlessly against those who threatened him. He put to death Caesarion, the supposed son of Julius Caesar and Cleopatra, for purely political motives. He also could be harsh towards his own family. He swore that he would never recall the elder Julia from exile, refused to recognise the child of the younger Julia, and would not allow either Julia burial in his mausoleum. It was he who had set the armed guard over Postumus. Moreover, Augustus did make meticulous preparations for his own death.

He left behind three or four libelli, with instructions for his funeral, the text of the Res Gestae, a summary of the Roman troops, fleets, provinces, client-kingdoms, direct and indirect taxes—including those in arrears— the funds in the public and in the imperial treasuries, and the imperial accounts. There was also a book of instructions for Tiberius, the Senate, and the people. Augustus went into considerable detail, with such particulars as the number of slaves it would be wise to free and the number of new citizens who should be enrolled. 

He was clearly a man determined not to leave any issues hanging in the balance, and the future of Postumus would have been an issue of prime importance. Postumus’ death was the final blow for Julia the Elder. From this point on, she simply gave up and went into a slow decline, her despair aggravated by her destitution. She received no help from Tiberius, although he had earlier tried to win leniency for her from her father.

According to Suetonius, Tiberius, once emperor, deprived her of her allowance, using the heartless argument that Augustus had not provided for it in his will. As we have seen, Livia might well have helped the exiled Julia at one point by giving her one of her slaves, and she certainly helped Julia’s daughter when she was sent away from Rome. But she does not seem to have tried to intercede on this occasion. Julia died in late ad 14 from weakness and malnutrition. The new reign had got off to a bloody start.”

- Anthony A. Barrett, “The Public Figure.” in Livia: First Lady of Imperial Rome

#livia drusilla #postumus #octavian #tiberius #roman #ancient #history #anthony a. barrett #livia first lady of imperial rome

[aquarianwisp]

Cleansing, blessing, and protection basics

If you are new to witchcraft this guide is for you, but even if you are seasoned in the craft I still think it’s a really good idea to read other witches posts for new ideas and inspiration!~ Cleansing is such an important practice for anyone, not just witches. It is very commonly seen in many different cultures and religions worldwide and is practised in many different ways depending on the tools being used. Cleansing can be done with the help of deities or spirits, or it can be done in a secular way as well with reliance on your own energy or tools. Some people have different beliefs around when cleansing should be done and what rituals should be done at different times of the year. My path is one that works with the natural flows of energy around me, and I call upon deities and spirits to help me in my workings. I cleanse as I feel it is needed, and during the new moon period as well. However, you can adjust your practices to suit your own path and what makes you feel happiest.

Reasons to cleanse and when it should be done: Cleansing is so important for many reasons. It gets rid of heavy emotional energy, it prevents us from being influenced by unwanted energies, it gets rid of negative entities, and it helps to protect us in some cases, depending on what you are doing. You might want to cleanse when there has been a fight, or when an activity has been repeated in an area (like stress in a workplace) and a residue of the emotions felt while doing that activity has been left.  Another time to cleanse would be after someone has been sick. It is best to wait until the person has become well again because if you cleanse while they are resting in their sick room and you use smoke you may make them feel more unwell. Once they are better again, it is good to go into the room they were resting in and give it a good cleanse to banish evil spirits and fumigate. Overall though, it is good to give things a cleanse even if nothing negative has happened. Spiritual people don’t always feel wonderful and magical all the time, and we aren’t immune to creating bad energy. Sometimes you come home and you’ve had a bad day, or you might just be tired, or you feel angry, stressed, etc. Maybe you’ve had a party and all your friends left their energy in your house. Even if nothing happened, this everyday stuff just builds up and needs to be removed every now and then. This is why it’s often good to set a regular cleansing time, such as the monthly new moon as well. Things that can be cleansed Pretty much anything can be cleansed. Commonly though, people cleanse their homes, their bodies, other people, objects, spiritual tools, and charms. There is really no end to what can be cleansed, and there is no end to what can pick up negative energy. Even your phone could pick up negative energy, and you then carry that around everywhere and touch it non-stop, allowing it to affect you. Tarot cards and other divination tools I would actually suggest to cleanse more often than other tools because they tend to pick up negative energies faster.  What you can use to cleanse Smoke- This is one of the most common methods for cleansing, and you can use bundles of dried herbs, resins, or incenses to do this. You just need to light them up and waft the smoke around whatever is being cleansed. Cleaning your house- Clutter, dirt, mould, and mess attract bad energy that likes to hang in your laundry pile. Cleaning also helps us feel a lot less stressed, making room inside of you to experience healing energies. Don’t forget that mould and other ugly things can make you sick and affect your mental health as well, so it is very important to keep yourself and your home clean. Water- In some cultures water is considered to be very sacred and purifying, and is utilized by taking cleansing baths and showers, washing the body or objects that are being cleansed, floor washes, and just by sprinkling. Be careful with this one though, because if you do not dry some surfaces they may become mouldy. Some types of crystals and natural materials like bones and wood don’t really like water and may become damaged from it. It is better to cleanse these with salt or smoke. Fire- Again, in some cultures, fire is considered very sacred and holy. You do not need to burn your house down to achieve this. Be careful with this one, because you do not want to become a crispy sausage. But fire can be represented in smoke cleansing, or it can be used to banish things by burning something that represents what it is that you wish to get rid of. I often find that speaking or praying over a flame and asking help from fire to remove something will result in massive energetic changes- especially long term. Please ensure to never leave a fire unattended- this is basic common sense but you’d be surprised how many people don’t follow this!  Air- A cool breeze can work wonders to clear energy! It’s so nice to open your windows and doors and let the cool air flow through the home.  Salt- We all know salt preserves things from bacteria and other nasties, but it also has a very electrical charge almost, it carries a lot of powerful energy. So it is really good for cleansing, especially when entities are around. I like to keep some by my bed to keep entities away from me while sleeping and to prevent bad dreams. Sound- Sound is really powerful, especially because we know that sound carries vibrations and can carry them far. Bells, singing bowls, drums, your voice, clapping, youtube healing frequency videos, chanting, and prayer are all really amazing at cleansing things. Heck, even pots and pans can be bashed together to clear entities. I also sometimes feel like spirits are sleeping, so I usually wake them up with gentle bells. Mists and floor washes- Again, water here, but usually, this is a good option if you can’t burn things. Beware again though, that you don’t leave things wet otherwise they can grow mould and as I said before, some types of crystals and natural materials like bones and wood don’t really like water. Usually, though, these are just water mixed with something such as essential oils, herbs, crystals or salt etc, which have been chosen to imbue the water with a certain element or property. These are then spritzed with a spray bottle around or on whatever you are cleansing. Floor washes can be mopped or thrown over the floor. Oils, alcohols, floral waters, and vinegar- Essential oils such as peppermint, myrrh, frankincense, eucalyptus, and myrtle are really good for cleansing things, especially if you cannot use smoke again. Diffusing essential oils is also a very common practice outside of the spiritual community so this might be a good option if you aren’t able to be so open about your path.  Alcohols such as Florida water are often used in cleansing, but keep in mind that some people consider Florida water to belong to closed cultures. Some people, however, disagree with this. But, you can always make your own floral waters for cleansing or you can buy them from essential oil manufacturers as a byproduct of essential oil production. You do not need to use Florida water if you are concerned about appropriation here. Floral waters are often sold by essential oil wholesalers, as they are usually sold to cosmetic manufacturers for use in moisturizers and balms. You can buy rose water or orange blossom water from Middle Eastern supermarkets, or if you are lucky enough they might be available in your local supermarket as well. Vinegar is really good to cleanse and also for cleaning. You can mix lemon and tea tree essential oil into vinegar, and these together are really good for cleaning and removing unwanted energy around the home. Vinegar is also good for banishments.  Some basic and good ways to cleanse a home: When cleansing a home, pay attention not only to the rooms but especially to the doors, windows and any mirrors. A lot of things are happening energetically in those spaces and they are usually hot spots for activity. Using salt and water: To cleanse a home with these, sprinkle water around the walls, and place a small sprinkle of salt in each corner of every room. You can also place salt along the front of a door, or along a windowsill. Sometimes though, salt can damage paint so don’t leave it on painted surfaces for too long. You can also paint protective symbols over the door and window frames with the water. Using smoke from herbs, resins or incense: To cleanse using these, take the smoke around to each room and move it in an anticlockwise circle three times. Also make sure to waft a lot of smoke around doors, windows and mirrors.  Sound and prayer: You can go around each room with instruments, or you can sing over or speak over your home to cleanse it. If you choose to pray, make sure to state what needs to be removed, and what will happen within that space instead. Eg. “May all anger, hurt, stress, and any other unwanted energies leave this space. May this room be safe, still, and peaceful, and may we experience joy, laughter and happiness in this room.” How do I know if there are entities in the room? If you are practised enough in sensing energies you will know straight away. However, if you are a beginner please keep in mind that your fear of entities alone can mean that you might believe there is an entity in your home even when there isn’t, or your fear might even attract one. Sometimes we can also fall prey to the power of influential words, and a psychic or someone else who senses energies might claim that you have a spirit in your home and then you will start seeing signs for its existence even if nothing is there. Even if the psychic didn’t pick up on a negative entity, but just said the word “spirit”, many people have different interpretations for this word based on religious beliefs, influence from movies and pop culture, etc. You may have misunderstood. In fact, there are a lot of spirits around us all the time, ancestral spirits, household spirits, plant and animal spirits- and not all of them mean harm. But some people interpret the word spirit to instantly mean the worst. Mould can also affect your mental health and if it has made you unwell enough it can make you hallucinate and see entities or experience haunting activity. Check for things like this before worrying and stressing yourself unnecessarily. If you had an entity that meant harm, you would just know. And until you experience the sense of “just knowing” this kind of thing, you probably will not understand what I mean here.  Energy flowering and blessings Once you have cleansed a space and depending on what you used to cleanse, the space or object might feel like a blank canvas. You need to do what is called energy flowering or charging to reconfigure the energy of a space or item. Energy flowering is usually done with floral waters, resins, crystals, or incense sticks. Bundles of herbs are used mostly for cleansing, but depending on the herb they can be used for flowering as well. But in my personal opinion herb bundles are best for cleansing only. Salt or soil can also be used for this- as I said before salt seems to carry a very electrical feeling energy, and soil from the earth can also be used to recharge objects. Resins are really good for raising vibrations and creating healing and beautiful emotional energies.  To recharge with incenses or resins, waft the energy around the home but in clockwise circles and if possible use your dominant hand. You can also hold objects like tarot cards or crystals in the smoke or you can waft the smoke towards yourself or someone else. Cinnamon, sandal, frankincense, myrrh, and dragons blood are really good for this purpose.  To recharge with floral waters, you can wash objects in them, or you can sprinkle them around the walls, doors, and windows. Altar spaces and deity images usually really like this type of cleansing. To recharge objects with soil, bury them until they feel ready. Make sure to leave yourself a marker on the ground so you know where they are buried. If you live in an apartment, you can definitely bury things in a pot of soil. If you cannot get soil you can also leave objects on a bed of salt for as long as needed. To recharge using crystals, place the crystal you want to use over the object or within the space and leave it for as long as needed. Clear quartz is a good energy conductor and will bring intense universal energies down. Copper is also really good for conducting energy, so if you have any copper items they can help recharge an item or space as well. Blessings A blessing ritual is a really lovely way to give a room, a person, or an object your goodwill, and also to call down the highest good upon something. You can make a charm to bless someone, you can pray or speak over someone or something, or you can also anoint objects, places, or people with sacred oils. This is also where some fun stuff like glitter, colourful threads, beads and other cool stuff can work its way into your magic. A basic blessing ritual for a person White, pink, and green candles Rose water Salt Rice Anointing oil Honeysuckle incense A bowl of water, soap and a towel.

Create a small mixture of salt, rice, and your anointing oil. Keep some of these ingredients separate and to the side. Wash the hands of the person you are blessing with the rose water, and rub the salt, rice, and oil mixture into their hands gently. They can rest their hands for a bit until the ritual is done. Sprinkle their head with the rose water, and offer rice and salt to them in the direction of their mouth (they don’t have to eat it so don’t shove it in their mouth lol) and also to the each side of their temples and the top of their head (you just need to hold it in your hand and point it in the directions listed above). Waft the incense around them three times clockwise, and offer the candles to them by moving them in a clockwise circle three times as well around the person. As you are doing this you can say out loud or in your heart “May you be well, may you be protected, and may you be free from suffering.” Think of everything good that you wish for this person as you are doing this ritual.  Anoint their forehead at the hairline with the oil. You can then offer them the soap, water and towel for them to clean their hands once all this is done. The ritual is complete! Making charms for blessing and protection You can make charm bags and fill them with all sorts of fun stuff like colourful glitters, sequins, crytals, herbs, meaningful items, images of deities, or handwritten prayers or sigils. Colourful glitters are cool because glitter is fabulous, and all the colours have meanings associated with them so you can pick the colours based on what you want to achieve. You can also make yourself some jewellery, and if you want to you could use religious icons or images in your jewellery, or choose colourful beads that represent certain ideas, archetypes, or deities.  Other charms can also be candles or herbs for example. You could hang dried herbs around the home, or you can anoint a candle with an oil of choice and it will act as a charm. You can also anoint jewellery with oils. Making a charm from jewellery Select a piece of jewellery. It is better if it is made of something like gold or silver, as fashion jewellery can become damaged from oils of whatever you might use. Beadwork should be fine. You can make this into a ritual if you like, or you can keep it simple. Personally, I like to keep things simple when it comes to making charms, but each to their own. You can remix this however you like to suit your needs.  Before you start, I believe it is respectful to ask the object if it wants to become a charm. Even inanimate objects contain the spirit of the universe or contain a consciousness. You cannot force it to serve you, so please ask respectfully if it is happy to help you. You will sense the answer with your intuition, or you might experience other phenomena such as synchronicities, seeing or sensing colours or energy, or hearing something. Just listen patiently. If it says yes, wash the object in water to purify it and leave it on a bed of salt for a hot minute. Light some candles with the colour that corresponds to your intention, and burns some incense. Anoint the charm in a blessing oil, and ask it to carry this intent for you. You can pray over it or speak over it what you intend for this charm. Give the offerings of candles and incense to the charm and thank it for helping you. It is respectful to bow before the object while giving it thanks.

It is now ready to wear, but you might want to clean it off. I can’t imagine jewellery with caked-on salt looks too nice. Creating protective charms for the home Religious iconography near doorways is a really good option if you are able to openly display these. Some cultures make protective charms from certain objects like horseshoes, chilli peppers, bells, lemons, sigils, or similar items from temples and shrines. In each case, it is again respectful to ask the object if it wants to help you.  You can do a similar ritual to the above, or you can make your own charms for the house. Basil charm to call down holy fire Basil is a herb I use in spiritual healing because I find it often has a very fiery energy that can really intensely open up and allow universal energy to flow. It is very simple to make, all you need to do is dry a bunch of basil. Ask if it is happy to serve as a charm for the home. If it says yes you can hang it in the home up high above the head, and preferably in the main room such as a lounge room so that everyone can be influenced.

Bay leaf doorway charm Sew some dried bay leaves together in a chain, big enough to fit the measurements of the door frame you wish to place it over. Once the length of the chain is big enough for the door, ask the object if it wants to serve you. If the answer is yes, hang it above your door frame. This will protect evil spirits from entering the home and will bring luck and abundance to those inside.  Jar of holy salts for the bedside Combine sea salt in a jar with oils such as peppermint, frankincense, orange and lavender. You can mix in some of the same dried herbs if you like as well. Ask the object if it wishes to serve you, and if yes place it by the bed. This is a protective charm that will ensure a peaceful sleep without being bothered by bad dreams, negative entities, or anything else that you want to keep away. I had a friend who had a terrifying experience of having his name yelled at him by some sort of spirit just as he sat down to sleep. This charm has helped him feel calm and protected and he has not experienced the issue since.

Maintaining charms Charms do not want to be forgotten. They can often become spiritually blank or deadened and will be unable to continue their purpose if they are not cared for. They need love, they are a consciousness that wishes for its own happiness. One of the best ways to keep charms happy I find is to talk to them and build a relationship with them. In the morning when I do my regular incense burning and candle lighting I also give them offerings as well, by going around the house and waving the incense and candles towards them. I might also re-anoint them when needed. I find that if the object is respected as being holy and as being part of the family it will continue to happily serve the home. Don’t forget this step to give your charms love and treat them as if they are alive with consciousness!  ♥ Building a relationship with the spirits of the home and land for protection Just as charms contain a consciousness, so do all inanimate and animate objects in the home and on the land which your home resides. It is good to honour these spirits and energies with offerings, and they can, in turn, be called upon to protect the home. I always leave incense burning in a safe place outside as an offering to the spirits of the land and home, and as I do so I ask for their protection upon the home. Over time, you will be able to sense their energies more and they will begin to surround you and protect you. You do not need to do much here except allow time and routine to do the work for you. 

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