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sarah-bae-maas · 4 years

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Reign of Queens Chapter Three

When Aelin fell through worlds, she never dreamt that she would make it to Erilea alive. Half of her dream became a reality, she was alive, but she certainly wasn’t in Erilea. With foes at every corner and a powerful family ready to cull her for invading the body of a loved one, she has no choice but to play the games of the Night Court until she can figure out how to return home, hopefully without dragging anyone with her.

An AU! where Aelin fell into Prythian by mistake.

Masterlist Ao3

Chapter One Chapter Two

(If you’re wondering why I don’t much anymore, I feel like the audio it’s mental illness innit on TikTok sums it up pretty well. But I’m working on it!)

***

Azriel watched as the women hurried in the direction of the city. The woman, he thought, because that was most definitely not Nesta. He didn’t know how though. Because in a way it was still undeniably her. She smelt the same, she spoke with her usual venom, but Azriel had watched his brother’s mate for many years, and the way she moved was beyond the capabilities of Nesta.

And although her words held malice, he also found himself wanting to laugh with her. Like before, when she’d told Rhys he’d look lovely with a blade him in. Azriel had to forcibly refrain from laughing, and to remind himself that he should not find threats on his brother’s life as funny as he did. Azriel never really felt like laughing when Nesta was around.

He did not fly after her, Not-Nesta was too often searching above her. She was a smart one, too. If she wanted to evade him she could have. He could tell the moment they hit the forest’s edge as they were fighting that she meant to flee into the thicket, and she would have been able to if it had not been for Rhys.

That fight alone was proof enough to Azriel that this wasn’t Nesta. He had never seen some of the techniques used, and he found her a worthy opponent. He also took note of her visceral reaction to a whip, which was unusual considering it was Nesta’s weapon of choice.

Azriel did not want to go to Rhys with his theory until he had either proof or information on what Not-Nesta was up to. He could not so lightly break Cassian’s heart.

Velaris was still hesitant after the evacuation, not as many people milling about. Nesta wove through them without a thought – moving around them with footsteps as light as a dancer.

_____

The library was one of the grandest Aelin had ever seen. Sprawling in large spirals and winding in every direction, she could tell why this would be a solace for the women that worked here. Nesta gave her a brief history on the library’s inhabitants, but even if she hadn’t Aelin would have been able to tell. They had the look to them – that undeniable gleam in their eyes that spoke of trauma, of hardships but survival. It was one Aelin had seen in herself, in Lysandra, in little Evangeline. It was a look no woman or person in Endovier would ever have the chance to have. No person in Terrasen, Erilea, the world once Erawan was done with it. Her throat felt tight, and she rested her hand over her heart as if it might subside the pain. One of the librarians noticed and touched her elbow gently.

“If there anything I can get you, Lady Nesta? The usual?”

“Water would be nice, thank you,” her words blurred.

So you know them well? she asked Nesta. Well enough to have a ‘usual’ at least.

Cassian suggested I get to know them. Grow from them. Learn a little something or two.

Aelin didn’t need to ask why that might have been.

The woman returned and gave her a glass of water. After skulling it, Aelin asked after the book. Nesta had already told her that what you tell these women is always in confidence, and not even Feyre or Rhys would ever reach into their minds for information. It was too much of a violation, apparently. Aelin personally thought doing it on anyone seemed immoral. When Nesta explained Rhys’ magic Aelin had vivid flashbacks of the Valg princes at Mistward – but who was Aelin to judge morality?

“We haven’t had it here for years,” the librarian said apologetically. “The High Lord thought it’s presence made us vulnerable to attack.”

Aelin’s face fell; she felt Nesta sigh in regret.

“However,” she continued, “we have books about that book, and ones that date as far back. And if you have a particular subject in mind, I may be able to find you something with comparable content.”

Aelin gave them something better. She asked for a piece of paper to write on and jotted down a few harmless wyrdmarks. She asked for anything that had those symbols, and they gladly helped. Aelin took a seat, recognizing that although all libraries felt like a little slice of home to her, this was not her forte. And honestly, it was about time there was something she wasn’t at least fantastic at.

Aelin didn’t know if it was because she had been thrust into this world of if it had been from her forced rest, but she was exhausted. Even Nesta was quiet. Her eyes were sore, arms heavy, and her shoulders and neck started to ache.

She rested her head in her hands, her heavy eyelids fluttering. Whenever they closed, she saw the face of Rowan – grave, scared, hopeful. She perfectly saw the set of his jaw, and the twitch to his hands. To anyone else, it might seem like he was showing nothing at all. But she knew him better than that. Between visions of him, she saw Dorian. Both Dorians, now that she knew there were two. Gods, she hoped Dorian was alive and well. And she hoped that Chaol had learnt not to be as emotionally stunted as a pin cushion, so he could help his friend through this time.

Aelin wasn’t quite sure when she fell asleep, only that she was awoken by a slamming hand next to her head.

“Nesta, fancy seeing you here.”

Aelin bolted upright and turned to sneer at Azriel, who was closely followed by Rhysand. They both looked well, and although Rhysand was scowling, Azriel looking down-right jovial. An act, if his hard-set jaw was anything to go by.

“What brings you to the library?” Aelin asked casually, as though she didn’t still have drool on her face from her nap and tangles in her hair from where she had pulled at it in her sleep.

“Wanted to do some light reading,” Rhys said, his eyes glowing with something Aelin couldn’t name.

“What about you, Nesta? It’s been months since you’ve come here for a social chat.” Azriel’s hands were fisted too, even if his body was relaxed.

“Keeping tabs on me?” Aelin sneered. Good thing she had spent half her life learning how to talk to pompous men with big bank accounts and bigger egos, otherwise she might grovel at their unworthy feet. Instead, she presented herself as a challenger – as she knew Nesta would.

Azriel looked at her – dumbfounded. “Yes. Yes I am.”

Aelin didn’t expect such an honest reply.

“Don’t you want to know how he is?” Rhys questioned, stepping to Azriel’s side, one of his hands going to his shoulder.

“You look ravishing Azriel, your arm healed nicely I assume. Fae blood does such wonders.”

Aelin knew she had said something wrong the moment the words fae blood left her mouth. Nesta, who before now had chosen to stay out of this interaction, cursed.

Azriel shared a look with Rhys.

“I was not asking about me,” was not what Aelin thought Rhys would say. “I meant Cassian. You haven’t asked how he is.”

Azriel isn’t a fae you dumb fuck. He’s an Illyrian, so is Cassian, and so was Rhys’s mother.

Aelin coughed at the name. It wasn’t something she’d never been called before, but to hear it so softly spoken as though it were a fact was quite jarring.

And ask about Cassian. Please. I need to know he’s okay.

Aelin did just that, and Rhys practically glared at Azriel as he answered. “He’s worried, and Feyre is beside herself.”

“She’s thirty weeks pregnant, it’s to be expected that she’s emotional.” Repeating facts was good, showing them that she knew things was good. Calling Azriel a fae had been a strong misstep, one hopefully redacted as a slip of the tongue.

“The baby has nothing – Nesta, what are you doing?” Rhys glanced behind her, taking a peek at the books the librarians had procured for her. Books and – and cookies, bless their hearts.

“Some light reading. Which I was hoping to do in peace, if you would politely leave.”

Good luck trying to get HigH LoRd RhYSanD to do anything. He’s so stubborn he makes you look reasonable. Ask more about Cassian. Ask if he’s still going to Illyria today.

“Is Cassian still going to Illyria today? Maybe you could join him. He might actually like being in your presence.” Aelin smiled sweetly at the two men, trying to distract them from the books she was subtly trying to push aside.

“Cassian has decided to stay home, in case you need him,” Azriel said slowly, carefully deciding his words. Aelin tilted her head, studying him. He was quite beautiful, the kind of beautiful that would have made her do reckless things in her youth. And the darkness that surrounded him… although personified in the male in front of her, it reminded her so much of her Rowan that she wanted to scream. What had become of her in her own realm? What horror was Rowan facing alone? When she did what she did, she did so knowing that she would die. This was infinitely worse in some ways – she had no idea what was now happening at home. Was she comatose? Was she dead, and this was the afterlife?

And a possibility she didn’t want to linger on. That she could go back and be with him. But only if she made it in time. She knew Rowan better than she knew herself, and she ached at the possibility of what he might do if he lost another mate.

He might just try to join her in a death she hadn’t yet been granted, and she couldn’t exist in any version of reality that didn’t have Rowan in it.

That is how I feel about Cassian. He is everything to me, Nesta confessed, the words honest and strained. Tell them they should make him go. He needs a distraction, and I don’t want him seeing me like this. Azriel may assume I’m on a bender, and I don’t think I could cope if Cassian thought the same. Azriel and Rhys would feed him that lie. I fucking know they would.

“He should go. He has so much to do, and I don’t want him lingering and worrying,” Aelin said, looking down to try and seem more passive. Maybe if they thought her harmless, they would leave her be even if something was wrong.

“We tried. He doesn’t want to leave you.”

His gallantry was noted and would otherwise be appreciated. It was also clear he wasn’t the only stubborn Illyrian Nesta knew. The two in front of her wouldn’t budge even if it meant saving themselves from her wrath.

I don’t think they respect you very much, she told Nesta.

I prefer fear anyway.

Aelin hummed.

“Something funny?” Rhys asked, pulling up a seat beside her and swiping one of her cookies.

“I was just thinking… maybe I will go home. Make sure he’s okay.”

What? Why are you doing that? He’ll figure you out, idiot. Or worse, he’ll think I’m on the piss.

Aelin picked up the books, hoping she would be allowed to take the volumes home with her. There, they would leave her be. She just had to hope that if Cassian really was Nesta’s Rowan, then he would love her enough to keep her secrets. Aelin had the whole walk home to think of a lie extravagant enough to get them all off her back and figure out how to ask Cassian to not mention her new choice in genre. Something told Aelin these books differed from the obvious romance titles that lined Nesta’s personal shelves.

I’ll help you, Nesta said. If only so you leave quicker.

#rowaelin #nessian #tog #kingdom of ash #a court of silver flames #acotar #fanfic #feysand #acowar

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scarlettroubles · 3 years

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2, 3, 8, 13, 29 and 47 for Eileen? Sorry, I wanna know more about her tho X3

I’ve already answered some of these questions previously but I’ll answer them again since I feel like a lot has changed since then so here we go.

2. What house are they in and why do they belong there?

Eileen was a hatstall for 12 minutes because the sorting hat couldn’t choose whether to put her in Gryffindor or Ravenclaw. She had the courage, nerve, and daring attitude of a Gryffindor and the wit, wisdom, and creativity of a Ravenclaw but was ultimately placed in Hufflepuff because out of what all the four houses valued and looked for in a student, Hufflepuff is the house whose values resonated the most in Eileen. Not to say Eileen doesn’t possess the traits of a Hufflepuff because she possesses the traits of being hard-working, loyal, and just but what really put her in Hufflepuff was her want not to be a great person but a good one.

3. What’s their patronus? Why?

Eileen’s patronus is the same as mine on Pottermore which is a Runespoor haha. I think this summary from @hogwartswelcomesyou sums it up:

The runespoor is a creature original to the Harry Potter universe. It is described as an orange serpent with black stripes and three heads. Each head corresponds to a different personality – the left head is the planner (which comes up with the runespoor’s ideas), the middle head is the dreamer (which tends to get lost in its own daydreams and remains the most stationary of the heads), and the right head is the cynic (which critiques the ideas of the other two heads). Apparently it is not uncommon to find a runespoor with only two heads, as sometimes the first and second heads will bite off the third because it’s being too critical, though a two-headed runespoor will not live very long.

Snakes, of course, are a pretty standard symbol to associate with Slytherins, being symbolic of change, fertility, healing, energy, and the duality of good and evil. But more interestingly it has been hypothesized that runespoors in particular are representative of writers – one part of the writer is the logical planner, one part is the imaginative center that dreams up all the magical flights of fancy, and the last part is a never-ending self-critic who never sees their writing as good enough.

Having a Runespoor Patronus means you find comfort in push and pull. You are a multi-faceted and complex person (appropriate to a Slytherin!) and you don’t just listen to one internal voice, you listen to several…and that’s okay! You know that way that you’ll never be fenced in or pigeonholed. That flexibility and versatility is reassuring because you’ll be able to face whatever comes your way. This is what the runespoor appears to tell you – you have the energy and the capability to think your way out. It is a healing presence that says just what you need to hear – whether it be encouragement, idealism, or a good old smack of reality – to keep fighting.

8. Is there anyone at Hogwarts that they can’t stand?

At first it was Merula since in the beginning she made sure her first few years at Hogwarts were absolute hell but they eventually become proper rivals and later on allies. Second was Diego because she wasn’t the biggest fan of him constantly flirting with her even if she knew it was all in good fun and just his way of being friendly. And then there was Beatrice Haywood. Eileen knows that Beatrice is just acting all emo and pessimistic because of unresolved and undealt trauma from being stuck inside a portrait for her entire first year at Hogwarts but Bea constantly talking about how “Hogwart’s is doomed”, telling her to “find the vaults faster” and her saying how much she hates her sister because she’s too coddling when Eileen herself would love to have her big brother Jacob give her the time and day instead of just pushing her away to protect her from a danger she is already deeply entangled with just really gets on her nerves.

13. What are their talents? Mundane or magical.

Eileen’s good at drawing and sings from time to time. She also knows how to play the guitar and ukulele. Her parents tried having her learn the piano but Eileen had a hard time learning to read sheet music and wasn’t all too interested in learning the piano. Magic wise, Eileen has a strong connection towards magical creatures particularly felines and she’s working hard to become a magizoologist.

29. What’s their wand type? What does it symbolize about them?

Eileen’s first wand is Beech wood wand with a phoenix feather core,11 inches and reasonably supple flexibility. Beech wood wands pair with witches and wizards if young, wise beyond his or her years, and if full-grown, rich in understanding and experience. Beech wands perform very weakly for the narrow-minded and intolerant. Eileen is wise and pretty mature for somebody her age and this is because Eileen was forced to grow up rather quickly. After Jacob went missing, her mother went into a deep grief and her father became a workaholic. He hardly ever came home and would stay weeks upon weeks cooped up in his office at the Ministry. One day, her father brought her into his office and told her that she had to be strong and that she had to be the one to watch over her mother and her little brother Conan. He told her to “Never depend on anyone Eileen, because they’ll only disappoint you in the end.” Before breaking down crying and pulling a 9-year-old Eileen into his chest as he tearfully apologized at not being strong enough for his own wife and children. This event is what causes Eileen to be so independent and apathetic.

Her second wand is Red oak wand, phoenix feather core, 12 1/2 inches, reasonably supple flexibility. According to Ollivander, the true match for a red oak wand is possessed of unusually fast reactions, making it a perfect duelling wand. The ideal master is light of touch, quick-witted and adaptable, often the creator of distinctive, trademark spells, and a good man or woman to have beside one in a fight. Eileen has grown a lot since her first year at Hogwarts and that’s largely due to the dangers she and her friends had to face with the Cursed Vaults and R. Eileen has always had pretty good reflexes but those reflexes greatly improve thanks to her uncle Magnus’s training. Because of the constant danger Eileen is put through she’s awakened what is known in her family as the Ryder Instinct. Years of hunting down dangerous dark wizards and witches and even dragons (they don’t hunt down dragons anymore btw) have caused any descendant of a Ryder to possess the ability to detect when danger is near. This magic is deeply ingrained into a Ryder’s blood and is the reason why fighting comes so naturally to those who are born into the Ryder family and why they are known as ‘The Family of Survivors’ because of the countless times the family was almost completely wiped out in the past and were only saved thanks to this strange power. The red oak’s reputation for being the perfect dueling wand along with Eileen’s Ryder instincts and reflexes make for quite the deadly combo.

47. What was their opinion of Patricia Rakepick?

She didn’t trust her AT ALL. Eileen has been disappointed by adults her entire life so when an adult says they just want to help she always doubts it and expects the worse from them but this time, she desperately wanted to trust Rakepick because she wanted oh so badly for an adult to actually care enough to deal with the vaults. To care enough about her well-being but Eileen’s instincts kept telling her that this woman was dangerous but even then she tried to ignore them because just this once she wanted to hope. But after Rakepick blasts her first wand to bits and she’s forced to watch her torture a bystander in Knockturn Alley she knew she couldn’t be trusted and so when the time came for them to finally face the Buried Vault and the dragon in it, Eileen was prepared for the betrayal she knew would happen but even then the sting of being betrayed and yet another adult disappointing and abandoning her still hurt like hell.

#eileen ryder #hphm #hphm mc #ask #ask game #you guys are still free to send me asks from the ask game!#i don't mind haha #it gives me the chance to flesh out my characters so that's nice

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monsieur-hadrien · 4 years

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Harry Potter Fanfic Recommendations continued...

I did one of these lists back in June, and y’all KNOW! that I have even more to share with the world.

This list is a mix between crossovers and single-fandom fics, and are drarry or rarepair-centric, but either way I’ll mark which are which when I get to it.

If you want to see what I’ve been enjoying lately, check out my bookmarks on the Archive

Man of Iron, Child of Magic by zathara001

Harry Potter and MCU, no slash, 107k word count, 32 chapters, completed, teen

In the aftermath of the Chitauri invasion, Tony Stark sorts out his priorities - including one he didn't think he had.

Okay I followed this one from the beginning as a WIP because this is exactly the fic that I was looking for. Tony being Irondad for Harry is the most wholesome thing ever, and Uncle Steve is also 20/10. I will say, this fic is not as dark as a lot of this hp/mcu fics of this trope because it happens in Harry’s younger Hogwarts years and his childhood isn’t too ruined just yet. It focuses a lot on Tony’s growth as a father rather than working through Harry’s trauma (which, don’t get me wrong, that happens as well). Harry still has the naive outlook on life that a child should have and it just makes my heart swell.

Although this fic is done, the sequel has not been uploaded yet, as this fic was just completed late August, but don’t let that deter you. The author is a sweetheart to interact with on new updates (which were quite frequent).

Golden Boy’s Dance by Madriddler

Harry Potter, Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy/Blaise Zabini, 57k word count, 13 chapters, completed, explicit

Two years after the defeat of Voldemort and Harry is feeling useless. Jobless and suffering from PTSD, Harry spent his days going from horrible interview to horrible interview hopelessly looking for a job. Feeling completely useless, Harry, with the help of George, turns to a new profession that Harry never even thought of : being a camboy. Pleasuring himself for money and people's entertainment, Harry hopes to find a use for the Savior of the Wizarding World in this Peaceful Era.

Yeah so uh,,, this is a total guilty pleasure kink fic and I’m not at all ashamed for putting this fic on here. I won’t even lie, sometimes it felt a bit cheesey, but the porn was so well written it didn’t even matter. I swear to you this is porn with plot and lots of it. Harry works through his post traumatic stress disorder in ways that may or may not be slightly unhealthy, but beyond the porn, it’s really about Harry being okay in his own skin, as someone with mental health issues and as a sex worker. It was a hell of a good time to read and I definitely cried for Harry a time or two.

A Dented Old Street Sign by orphanghost

Harry Potter, Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy, 27k word count, one-shot, completed, mature

Draco knows they aren't the only students who will be completing their NEWTs this year, but they are the only ones whose home fireplaces were disconnected from the floo network by the ministry.

At least, Draco assumes as much until he sees the light falling out from the front door of one of the other rickety old houses in front of them and the three figures cast in its warm glow. For a moment they look like some sort of strange, many legged creature. An acromantula, or a particularly massive Blast-Ended Skrewt. Then Draco hears Pansy make a disgusted sound beside him and the light falls in a less blinding way, and Draco can see that it is actually Potter and the Weasel carrying a large couch between them, and Granger fluttering around them with her wand out, seeming concerned.

I don’t think I’ve laughed this much reading a fic in a long time. The golden trio and the Slytherin gang live in the same neighborhood while attending their 8th year at Hogwarts and i swear to fucking god, the amount of mutual pining and angst between Harry and Draco is fucking ridiculous, but you can’t help but love them anyway. Sometimes I wanted to throttle them and then shove them into a closet together so they would just t a l k but like in a good way. also the Christmastime atmosphere is something I just live for.

Words Unread, Things Unsaid by PinkCrupps

Harry Potter, no slash Harry & Snape, 18k word count, 7 chapters, completed, teen

What if the Dursley’s were a little crueler, and a little smarter? What if they didn’t want Harry going to school because they didn’t want anyone to see the bruises?

What if Harry had to leave for Hogwarts, carrying a shameful secret? One that Severus Snape is determined to discover.

When I say this one hurt, I mean it h u r t. I feel so bad because when I first read the tags I laughed when I saw the illiterate tag because I make the “I can’t read” jokes often but then I read the fic and i felt SO BAD OMG.

I am no fan of Snape, let it be known, but this fic, I think made me feel like he actually deserved a bit of a redemption arc (even if it’s fanon). This whole time, all I could think of is giving harry a big hug and never letting him go.

I said this in the notes of my bookmark, and I stand by it: “

I feel like the hurt/comfort tag on this one is also meant for the reader”

What Happens to the Heart by Mossycoat

Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, 33k word count, 18 chapters, completed, mature

With no girlfriend, no job, and no idea what he wants, Harry has decided to let life go on without him. If only prophetic dreams, demanding ghosts, and Draco Malfoy would let him.

If you need a pick-me-up after the sadness for the prior fic, may i recommend this one. Seer!Harry is a headcanon that I had never seen before this fic, and I was not let down whatsoever. We love a fic where the OCs are wonderful and the writing style is immaculate. The incorporation of tarot and divination into the chapter names and plot also makes my babywitch heart s i n g!!

Wrong Place, Wrong Time by Relevant_Peach

Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, 70k word count, 15 chapters, completed, no rating specified, but probably teen/ mature for mental health tingz

Draco Malfoy would do anything to find a cure for his son's life-threatening disease. When he crosses paths with an old acquaintance, it unleashes a string of events that will uncover secrets and deceptions. Will Draco be able to look past the misdeeds of his old lover's past? Will Harry ever find the family he longs for?

Ah yes, who knew that pain could feel so good. Everything seems to be fine until it isn’t with this one.

Turn by Saras_Girl

Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, 306k word count, 14 chapters, completed, explicit

One good turn always deserves another. Apparently.

oh my goD yes a classic we love to see it. This is one of those fics that is long but doesn’t reallly feel like it is? This is definitely another feel-good fic, even if it doesn’t seem that way in the beginning. Not only does it focus on Harry and Draco’s relationship, but also their relationships with their family, specifically their children. It’s just really heartwarming whenever Harry get’s all fatherly with his kids. ugh I swear I don’t want any but this is just SO ADORABLE! Plus Blaise Zabini rights thank you very much.

Also Boris can suck my left toe.

There’s a Pureblood Custom For That by Lomonaaeren

Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, 105k word count, 36 chapters, completed, mature

The day that Harry stops Draco Malfoy and his son from being bothered in the middle of Diagon Alley starts a strange series of interactions between him and Malfoy. Who knew there was a pure-blood custom for every situation?

This is another fluffier one, and I have absolutely no shame. Draco is just trying so hard to get through Harry’s thick, clueless skull and Harry is just trying to understand. They’re just so adorable I can’t. And Harry defending Draco’s and his relationship after people are like fuck naw just warms my heart. Like yes Harry, protect ur mans you adorable himbo you.

Our Own Demons by Emmalie22

Harry Potter, MCU, Harry Potter & Tony Stark, Harry Potter/Peter Parker, 119k word count, 24 chapters, WIP, teen/mature

Tony Stark. Genius. Billionaire. Philanthropist. Ironman. (Reckless. Lonely. Father.)

Harry Potter. The Boy Who Lived. The Chosen One. Wizard. (The Master of Death. Survivor. Breaking.)

Tony Stark never thought he would be a father. But when a lawyer comes knocking and truths become evident, he realizes that he can’t let his son walk out of his life. For Harry, acknowledging his relationship with Tony is a last-ditch effort to gain freedom and control over his life. Although the journey might not be easy, Tony and Harry learn to heal and become a family, facing trials and tribulations on the way such as a scheming Death, a Mad Titian, Dark Wizards, dangerous Doctors, and living Wards.

I’m so sorry to give you a WIP that hasn’t been updated in 10 months, but I couldn’t let this one slide. I’m so attached to these characters it’s unhealthy. I’m not gonna lie, this fic was the product of a very hyperspecific filtered search on AO3 but I’m not even mad at it. Tony is Harry’s father but unlike the other fic on this rec list, Harry is a bit more grown up and bears a lot of the scars of 5th year (y’all don’t need me to specify with that one). It’s a lovely family dynamic and super fluffy Peter and Harry wow we love to see it. Harry is also super fucking smart AS HE IS! I will never get over people calling him stupid ugh Harry rights. But yes, author friend, if you see this, update when you can I’m so in love with this.

If anybody wants me to do more specific lists, I will totally do so. Just reblog or private message me. And if you have any other fic recs, please do so too because I’m always looking for something else to read.

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sabineelectricheart · 3 years

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Shadows of Hatred Past

Summary: Sylvain has promised to treat his children equally, regardless of Crests. When his son hurts his daughter, he finds out it is easier said than done.

Rating: K+ - Suitable for more mature childen, 9 years and older, with minor action violence without serious injury. May contain mild coarse language. Should not contain any adult themes.

Words: 1100

Notes: Look, we all love our families and we all love our children, but life is messy and we’re not perfect. People are entitled to their mistakes and their hypocrisies once in a while. But I swear to God that if a Sylvainette comes at me saying a fictional character would never, I will not hold my tongue.

Sylvain carefully brushes Isolde’s brunette curls back, inspecting the bump on the baby’s forehead, looking at the rather pig work he made of healing his own daughter. His specialty was reason magic, not faith magic, but so far north, in the high of winter, even the Margrave himself may have difficulty to find a healer.

The bleeding has subsided and her soiled clothes had been changed. At the very least, the little fifteen-Moon girl has ceased her strident crying now, which is a relief, but her light green eyes are still red and puffy from her earlier spell. Her usually bright demeanour was also quite muted. It was usual for children who just passed through a painful or scary experience.

Sylvain presses a gentle kiss to his daughter’s forehead, trying the old remedy of a little love to take away the pain.

“You’re alright darling.” He assures both her and himself.

The redhead Margrave gently palpates the welt as he spreads a salve his wife had brought with her from their last visit to Garreg Mach over the injury. Isolde whines softly, placing her two small hands over his own large one, trying to stop the painful experience.

“Shhh, daddy’s got you. No need to cry, princess.” The slightly-frantic still father assures in an attempt to ward off more tears.

Sylvain looks up when he hears the distinctive knock on his study door. “Come in.”

Byleth enters the room, carrying a tray of tea, some biscuits and a mint leaf for Isolde to chew on.

“How is she?” The religious leader asks as she sets the tray down on his desk, pouring cups for both of them. She pulls the other desk chair from the opposite side of the desk so she can sit beside her husband.

“She will be fine, but...” Sylvain responds, tone wary, pausing as the subject weighs heavily on his soul. “I think I need to talk to Dagobert.”

“I do not think you should, at least not what I am thinking you want to say. It is absolutely normal for him to be jealous, as he was used to being an only child.” Byleth insists, as it has been a topic of discussion ever since they found the girl bleeding profusely on the ground and the boy crying unconsolably. “I do not think he meant to hurt her, Sylvain, and we should take that into consideration. He just forgets how fragile she is. I am sure it was an honest mistake, and I have dealt with it already. It will not happen again.”

“I would like very much to think he didn’t mean to hurt her, but.... I don’t know. Sometimes I wonder if there is... If Dagobert and Isolde will repeat the same mistakes that I and Miklan did before.” Sylvain admits, staring at Isolde’s welt since he cannot look into his wife’s eyes after making such a heavy accusation.

Once upon a time, the Gautier dynasts were the staunchest defenders of Crest supremacy in all of Fódlan. It was a prerequisite to bear one, preferably a Major one, to ascent to the Margraviate. Necessities aside, such a position was fraught with many personal tragedies and family conflicts over the millennia of their history.

More recently, the oldest son of the previous Margrave, Miklan, had been born without a Crest, while the youngest, Sylvain, bore it. Such a legacy of violence, abuse and politics forced the current titleholder to kill his own brother, even if the trauma remains with the family for posterity.

When he married, Sylvain had promised his father that he would abolish the demands of a Crest for succession, whether the old man likes it or not. When Dagobert was born Crestless, the younger man made due with his promise.

He rejected the notion that his wife, while the Archbishop and Crested, was still lowborn and therefore unable to produce an heir with a Crest. He also refused to denounce his son, and raised him with all the resources, love and care that, on other times, would be reserved for a child blessed by the Goddess.

It all changed when Isolde was born. She carried the coveted Major Crest of Gautier, and as soon as it was confirmed by the Church, it began the pressure for the Margrave to boot his firstborn in favour of his daughter. He refused, of course, adamantly at that, but he does know that it weighs over his young son, a pressure the boy is not equipped to deal with, and the father fears what it might mean in their future.

“You are Dagobert’s father, Sylvain. I trust you will not make him feel like Miklan, and I trust my son will not make the same mistakes, either.” Byleth insists, tone stern.

Sylvain still is not looking at her. His wife gently cups his stubbled cheeks, forcing him to meet her loving gaze. She presses a gentle kiss to his lips, and then ducks to press a kiss to Isolde’s forehead.

“Dagobert loves his baby sister, I know it in my heart of hearts. We merely have to teach him to be gentler when picking her up.” The Archbishop assures him.

Sylvain leans forward to kiss Byleth again, more passionately this time. He laughs when Isolde uses her tiny hands to push her mother away.

“She is such a daddy’s girl…” The woman playfully complains as she leans back to admire the scene.

Sylvain smiles, pressing a kiss to the top of Isolde’s head. “She has my whole heart. Along with Dagobert, of course.”

“This is all fine and dandy, but does you not suppose you are forgetting someone, Margrave Gautier?” Byleth returns, hands resting on her hips in faux irritation.

Sylvain gently places Isolde on the desk to free up his lap, keeping a steady but light grip on her tiny arm to make sure she stays put. With his free hand, he tugs Byleth into his lap.

“Dearest, you are my soulmate. My constant companion and closest confidant. Everything good in my life has come as a direct result of you being my professor all those years ago, of you taking a chance on me even when I certainly did not deserve it. I will love you until my dying breath, and even after that.” Sylvain concludes his loving monologue with another kiss.

They are just starting to get carried away when Isolde lets out an irritated “Yah!”

Byleth breaks from his lips, picking up her daughter. “Do not be greedy, Isolde, it is unbecoming. You have to share Daddy with me and Dagobert.”

*_*_*_*_*

Fire Emblem Masterlist

Three Houses Masterlist

#fire emblem #Sylvain Gautier

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virtuosin · 3 years

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🎯 🎯 🎯

Arcade Sona had a pretty good life in the outside world. She came from a very affluent family, higher society style. She always did fantastic in everything she did, from her academic lessons to her musical proclivities. However, she suffered from a form of severe anxiety known as Selective Mutism due to trauma in her past. She is unable to speak, even if she desperately wishes to, because of this mental disorder. It is something she actively works on, but at the end of the day, it is something to be conquered over time and with the right support. She CAN speak properly with certain individuals, such as her mother, but otherwise it’s sign language, texting, or when she’s in Arcadia, the use of the game’s innate coding that offers her a ‘voice’. Sona tends to dabble in many passions in the music verse. She began as an orchestral musician that was a savant at the strings at a young age. That adapted and grew with her as she changed up her style to suit other genres. Eventually, she found Mordekaiser and along with others, created Pentakill. She relished those days dearly and still spends time with her old band members whenever the opportunity arises. Yet, even as the band took a break, Sona continued branching off and attempted DJ Sona, which at the time was a stellar hit. Rumors came out that she was the cause for Pentakill’s pause on the music scene, but that was nothing but hearsay which was dispelled by the band officially. She is eager to collaborate on projects with other musical groups and is, overall, eager to hear the new talent coming out. From K/DA to True Damage, she’s gleeful at what the future has to offer with all these new faces on the scene. Sona does well when away from society. Yes, she’s quite comfortable with being around the scyophants and dealing with all the decorum (as was her upbringing in life) but she was born in Ionia--she is Ionian. Wildlife and nature as a whole are very sacred to her because of her origins, and those who forsake the sanctity of nature will often be on the receiving end of Sona’s ire. She reveres the magic of her homeland so much as when she returned to Ionia after the war and saw how the land was ravaged and how her own people were cultivating the natural magics of the land to weaponize it? She was repulsed and demanded to return back to Demacia. She could no longer live among those people and consider herself one of them. What they were doing was killing the land, and in Sona’s core, she couldn’t tolerate it. This is also due to her relationship with the etwahl, which is born of that same wild magic and possessed by a goodly spirit. As an aside for that third headcanon, Sona has a deep respect and concern for the Vastaya because of what has become of Ionia. She feels strongly for their cause even if it isn’t her place to. It is their fight, but she would still stand beside them and offer solidarity, support, and whatever aide possible in healing their kind and the land itself.

#I dabbled in verses hope that's okay uvu #ronind

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foreaft · 5 years

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HEADCANONS : LUNA & FRED ft. @ofwarriorsmade !

The following was taken from OOC talks between myself and Jenny @ ofwarriorsmade. If George is mentioned, it pertains to Kezzy’s George @ humanbludger ! Anything of intimacy : kisses, cuddling, etc., happens when they are 16+ ! Normal behavior for two teens.

Luna, as a fellow member of the magical community of Ottery St. Catchpole, grew up interacting with the Weasley family for as long as she could remember. She is a child - hood friend to many of the Weasley children, but she’s not as close to Bill and Charlie, as they were several years older than her. She is closest with Fred and Ginny.

After her mother’s death, Luna relied heavily upon the Weasley’s for emotional comfort, specifically Mrs. Weasley and Fred. During the funeral, Fred stood back with Luna, an arm around her shoulders & holding her hand to comfort her, while others paid their respects, visiting her mother’s casket. Luna couldn’t bring herself to look at her mother, and she cried herself to sleep every night for a month.

Fred gifted Luna one of his old stuffed animals and a shirt of his; with Luna’s ( subconscious ) reliance on sense of smell, aromatherapy, such a small gesture was paramount in her ability to distract herself during the night. By recognizing his scent, from the stuffed bear and wearing the shirt he gave her as a sleep shirt, she could distract herself with a different thought process. Instead of thinking about her sadness & sorrow, Luna would be prompted to think about the next day and spending time with Fred and the Weasley family. “ Oh, I wonder what will be for lunch / dinner, I hope Mrs. Weasley let’s me help her cook ! ”

HEADCANONS [ FRED & LUNA ] : CONTINUED . . . !

Fred is very amused and intrigued by Luna, her thoughts and what she says. He believes everything she says to be very endearing, very positive, and he always wants to hear more.

While Luna did take the Flying class during her first year at Hogwarts, it was Fred that taught her how to “ properly ” fly ( his words ) during a summer break from Hogwarts. She was more receptive to his teachings, and that may be due to how well they understand each other, and the benefits of one - on - one teaching. She’s also not so shy around him.

They spend a good deal of time underneath the shade of a tree, when the weather permits, that’s labeled by everyone ( but them ) as their tree. He tells her about the dreams he has, and she often reads to him, the Quibbler usually when she’s younger, answering questions when /if he has them. It’s their place to share secrets and talk freely to each other without judgement or nosiness from others.

She doesn’t just read the Quibbler to him, she reads him different genre of literature too ( a mixture of his favorites and hers ), mostly novels. When they’re in their late - teens, their reading time together is often a time of affection as well. With Fred’s head resting in her lap, Luna uses magic to levitate the book and turn pages as she finishes a page, one hand fiddling with his hair, with the other arm resting across him.

Fred has a difficult time concentrating when it comes to reading, and he finds it more interesting when she reads aloud. Luna often studies with him, finding it beneficial to herself and for Fred; they study under their tree or in the living room of the Weasley home.

She encourages him to speak about his dreams and ambitions aloud ( even when he believes they may be dumb ), believing that they have more power when spoken. She’s been very encouraging of him, trying to help him see that there is value in himself and in his dreams, especially when he is down about himself and / or life.

She actually made a big speech ( in the summer of ‘95 ), under their tree, about how amazing and unique and genuine Fred is, and it was the first time that she spoke of loving him. He took it as she loves him as a friend, and not as the romantic love that it had slipped out as.

George sees the way that Luna looks at Fred, and the way that Fred looks at Luna, and he is the first to know / recognize that the two deeply love each other.

Fred and Luna miss each other dearly during Fred’s first three years at Hogwarts ( ‘89 - ‘92 ), they try to keep in touch with letters, and spend a good deal of time together when he’s home for summers & holidays.

Ever since she was a young girl, Luna has always been very intrigued by Fred & George’s antics / humor. She always giggles at Fred’s jokes and comments.

Fred & George have never made fun of her ( tease her maybe ), and have never made her feel that it’s a negative thing to be weird or strange. She is eternally grateful, as their acceptance of who she is helped her to remember that she should not bend or break, or change, for anyone.

Luna writes Fred letters every week to two weeks during her travels across Northern and Central Europe ( 2000 - 2008 ).

She only allows Fred, Ginny, and Molly, sometimes George when he wants to show up Fred, to play with / style her hair, but she enjoys it very much when Fred does it. He’ll braid her hair, and sometimes put wildflowers from around the Burrow in her hair. She and Ginny show him how to do different things, and lets him practice them on her.

The summer of Fred’s first year at Hogwarts ( ‘89 ), he is up early, knowing she will be too, and goes to her house to invite her for a walk and show her the book he has stolen from Hogwarts ( that he intends on returning, of course ), a book he thinks she’ll enjoy reading. He catches her sniffing the open pages, and she gets a little self - conscious, and she attempts to change the subject by asking him where he got it. She does find out he took it home ( and probably shouldn’t have ) and makes him promise to return it when he goes back.

Luna attends the Yule Ball, hosted during winter holiday of 1994, with George Weasley. It is a platonic invitation, two good friends attending to have some fun. Though Fred took Angelina, Fred does ask if he may dance with Luna for a bit, and Angelina with George, and Angelina sees no issue with that. She actually might be in on knowing about it with George.

During their school years, Fred used to find her at the Ravenclaw table and make ( silly ) faces at her to engage with her even when they had to sit so far away. It made her so happy to know that even if everyone in the school disliked or avoided her, she would always have a friend in Fred.

Fred once discovered a Gryffindor student partaking in hiding Luna’s belongings all around the castle, and he got into a physical fight with the kid over it. The kid never helped bully Luna ever again.

After discovering her house - mates stealing her stuff, he’d give them looks whenever he could, when he walks Luna to her table, during study hall, etc. The bullying became a tad less frequent, but it still happened at least once or twice a week.

Fred did make sure to sit with her, or call her over to the Gryffindor table, during Great Hall meals and study periods / study hall. He’d sometimes even bring over George or Ginny too. Luna lit up whenever she was surrounded by her friends.

Despite having his own plate of food, Fred would steal off her plate, something she didn’t mind because she’d do it right back. This was often a way they engaged in social interaction together during meals, and it was a way that Luna was introduced to new foods as well. Fred would get things she wouldn’t have, and she’ll try a bite. Some things she liked, some she didn’t.

They’d often sit close enough that their sides were touching, often subconsciously without meaning too. When Luna noticed it happening, she took comfort in it and that Fred seemed to be just as content with their closeness.

Just before the Battle of Hogwarts, being the realistic person she is, Luna decides it is time to tell Fred how she feels about him; so she pulls him aside and tells him E V E R Y T H I N G. If she dies, at least she died with no secrets, and if he dies, then he dies knowing she loves him. She does not care at this point if it ruins their friendship, it is better to die knowing he knows. He responds in a way she doesn’t quite expect, with an understanding and their first kiss, simple & short yet meaningful. After which he makes a joke, “ Sure you aren’t a Gryffindor? ” and it makes her laugh and tear up, then he says he’s loved her for a long time, but that is all there is time for, and she’s whisked away by others to finish battle preparations. That is the last time she sees him . . . until the war is over.

When the battle is done, Luna finds Fred in the designated infirmary area, and he is severely injured from being crushed by a wall. She moves to him quickly, a hand cupped over her mouth; she will be strong for him, but as she sits beside him, holding his chilled hand, she has to stop herself from asking the healers if he is going to die. She falls asleep sitting beside him, and he wakes later, relieved to see that she is there, there and ALIVE.

When he wakes again, and she is awake to see it, she can’t help but cry in relief. Some of it is also a release of emotions based on the trauma experienced during the battle; but she moves to give him a soft kiss on the forehead, and immediately moves to get a wet rag and wipe his face clean of dust & dried - blood / sweat.

She isn’t sure if it’s from his injuries, or if he is overwhelmed with all that has happened, but he blurts out everything he’s wanted to say to her, and he’s wearing a bashful smile but he’s exhausted. It is her turn for a simple, “ I love you, Fred Weasley, you just rest ” she smiles, I always will; until they can be alone.

The healers did ask her to leave while they do the immediate repairs on Fred’s body, but Mrs. Weasley insisted that Luna could stay with him if that’s what Fred wanted, and as they begin, Luna starts to feel like that isn’t a good idea because the healing is painful, and Fred is squeezing her hand hard & crying out in pain, but she must be strong for him, she has to be. He needs her, she will not leave him.

Weeks after the immediate healing repairs, her head is in his lap, and he’s working on his fine motor skills by trying to braid her hair, and he apologizes for making her endure that experience. But thanks her for sticking by him. She sits up and reassures him that she will always be there when he needs her, and she gives him a soft, soft kiss.

After the Battle of Hogwarts / war ( in ‘98 ), Fred takes some time during his recovery to travel with Luna during the beginning of her internship in late 2000, early 2001. Though she loves having his company, she does talk to him about going back to London to be with his family and continue his passions. He can’t run away from his problems, as much as she loves that he’s traveling with her. She comes back every three months to visit him, spending most ( if not all ) of her time with him when she comes back for those few days.

Fred is claustrophobic after receiving his injury during the war, but the vehicle Luna uses for her travels is enchanted to provide the comforts of a studio apartment.

Fred & Luna don’t really officially declare themselves an item / couple after the war; however, they are an unofficial item / couple. They are loyal to each other, and after she begins her travels, they are somewhat intimate together ( kisses, cuddling, sharing a bed, etc. ).

Fred is guilty of forehead against forehead contact, and rubbing / brushing noses. Luna honestly loves it so much.

Luna loves all of his affectionate gestures, whether he’s playing with her hair, holding her hand or holding her, helping her in the kitchen and tucking strands of hair behind her ear or helps tie her hair back when her hands are covered in batter / ingredients. She loves him so much. She does sometimes get a tad embarrassed by his attention, because she didn’t get much positive attention, in that way, especially during the school years. So when she catches him staring at her, she smiles sheepishly and looks away, her cheeks flushing a little.

Though, when he helps her in the kitchen, he requests being paid in kisses and being the dedicated taste - tester of her food.

He flicks little bits of food / ingredients at her, and then insists that it’s not him, HE BLAMES THE NARGLES. And she deadass looks him in the face, unamused at first, then a wicked smile sometimes crosses her face and she unloads the contents of the prep bowls at him. FOOOOOOD FIGHT. His mischief rubs off on her over the years.

When she initiates food fights, she says “ it’s not the nargles, they inhabit plants and there’s no plants in the kitchen so nice try ” and he pretends to be offended, giving her a gasp, fake offended that she’d insinuate he was lying, HOW DARE, before it’s all out war.

Fred has helped Luna be a bit more . . . wild & mischievous.

Sometimes forehead rests and nose brushing is to lure her into a false sense of security and it erupts into vicious tickle wars.

She LOVES when his hands cup her face, because she is always cold, and his hands are always so warm. She loves embraces and cuddling with him for that reason too, not just that, but you know.

Luna wears his shirts to sleep, his smell helps lower her stress levels and relaxes her. When Fred is away, she actually uses his pillow instead of hers. Even after washings, things he’s interacted with smell like comfort.

Fred & Luna used to wear each others scarves while at Hogwarts, and after Hogwarts as well. Luna with his Gryffindor scarf, and Fred with her Ravenclaw scarf.

When cuddling at night, Luna is sometimes the big spoon, and sometimes the little spoon. She moves around frequently at night, but thankfully she doesn’t accidentally kick or punch Fred. She just naturally turns over a good deal.

She DOES sleepwalk frequently, at least three to four times a week, and due to Fred being a light sleeper, he normally wakes when she is getting out of bed. He follows her until she either manages to get back to the bed during a spell, or when she wakes somewhere foreign from a sleepwalk spell. She was surprised the first several times to turn and find him following her, and she apologizes every time, but it does make her feel safer to know that he’s watching over her. She’s ended up very far from their home before, and after he found her sleeping in the woods, he’s never let her sleepwalk alone after that.

Luna’s moving actually doesn’t disturb Fred too much, it only wakes him fully when he recognizes that she’s getting out of the bed during a sleepwalk spell. When she simply moves, he acknowledges it and sometimes gives her a kiss on the cheek or pulls her closer to him and goes immediately back to sleep. He snores, but it’s a soft snore. She actually finds his snoring relaxing and rhythmic.

After the war, Arthur gets into muggle television shows, and Fred soon catches on too. He and Luna have two TVs, one located in their bedroom, and one that is in the living room where Luna can see & hear it from the kitchen. She’s really into cooking shows. Fred and Luna also have date nights where they watch muggle movies / shows and have a buffet of snacks on the coffee table.

Fred can’t dance, but that doesn’t stop him from dancing, he doesn’t care how he looks when doing it, and Luna doesn’t mind dancing, she actually enjoys it when she’s doing silly dances with good friends and family. She does know how to do a basic waltz box step, but that’s about it. All her other moves are random af, just like Fred’s, and she loves it when he randomly twirls / picks her up and twirls and dips her.

Fred has the ring for months before he proposes; he plans and plans and plans ( nice dates, beautiful dinners ), but each time, there’s something not quite right about it, and he waits. He actually proposes under their tree at the Burrow, he is nervous and blurts out the question, and pulls out the ring seconds later. Luna assumes that he is asking as a general question, like “ Will you marry me one day?, ” but as she goes to respond, she notices he’s moving to fetch something from his pocket, and its a RING. Her expression literally goes from :) to :O to :D to jumping up and throwing her arms around him. YES, she breathes, because he’s embracing her so tightly and she’s so happy she’s breathless.

Fred actually asked her father, Xenophilius, for his permission / blessing to marry Luna, and Xenophilius took his time saying yes, even though there was never a doubt in his mind about saying so. Fred leaves sweating bullets but grinning like a fool.

Xenophilius does manage to keep it a secret from his bright & brilliant little moon, and when she and Fred come to tell him the news, he knows immediately why she is so happy, and he’s like MY BRILLIANT LITTLE MOON, I’M SO HAPPY, and Luna is confused because how does her dad know before she’s even said anything. Fred confesses to talking to her dad about it first, and she’s so intrigued by the idea of that, because sure, Fred’s planned pranks before, but he planned all of this, he spent time planning things for her, and it’s such a serious thing to think about, and she’s just so happy that he took the time to think it through and that fact just makes it all the more better. She loves him so much.

Luna and Fred would love to have a family together, they’d likely have three to four kids, with one set of twins.

#series : harry potter ( hp ).#* luna : fruna.#ofwarriorsmade #humanbludger #* luna : v. / iii. [ ofwarriorsmade ] fred : ggg.#* luna & fred.#this is a collective of my and jen's ooc talks on discord #this might get pretty long so a few bullets in and i'm putting in a READ MORE #a lot of this may be formally written and some may not be bc jen and i are beautiful memes #this is a collective of luna & fred's interactions over the years / so from childhood to adulthood #their more affectionate interactions happen when they are in their mid to late teens / which is normal for teens to experience #WOW THIS WAS LONGER THAN I THOUGHT #i didn't realize how much we go on about them / i love it #jen if there is anything that you think needs adjustment or changing / let me know / i reference our dm log while writing this lol #but i'v ebeen working on it all evening so it could have a few typos or minor mistakes

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mook-pooltable · 5 years

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Uncle Sam AU

Rosie: Okay, the first idea I had is a crossover idea that could result in something similar to my HatID story that partially inspired by an idea I saw on Ao3.

Harry, while still in school, goes to Gringotts and asks for a hereditary test to find out if he has any other living family besides the Dursleys (cause let's face it, he's *desperate* to get away from them). He finds out he had someone who's still around on his mother's side of the family, a cousin of his grandfather, Harold Evans.

The man's name is "Sammy Lawrence". The test shows if the other members are alive, cast out of the family, or other such statuses by showing their names in different colors, and *his* name is written in an unusual color. The color in question means “Alive but Incapacitated” (Or something along those lines)

Mango: OOOOO yes i like this

Rosie: (Maybe "Entrapped" would be better?)

Mango: (ye, that would probably work better)

Rosie: Harry, being desperate for *any chance* of a family member that doesn't hate his existence, decided he wanted to find his Great Uncle Sammy. The goblins say they can run an investigation for him, while he goes through the proper channels to get to the states while underage. (Which also includes finding a place to stay, getting a passport, etcetera.)

Mango: i'd love to read this fanfic.

Rosie: The things get a little, weird.

Mango: no doubt

Poe: question: is sammy mom or dad's side of the family, i’m thinking dad but...

Rosie: Sammy Lawrence had gone missing years ago, along with most of the employees at the Cartoon Studio where he worked. But there was never an investigation by MACUSA since the Grindlewald War was still going on and had finally reached American shores. Sammy was the cousin of Harry's grandfather on his mother's side of the family.

Poe: gotcha gotcha

Rosie: Harry, still wanting to know more, decides he's going to go overseas anyway and maybe find and look around the Studio himself. But the goblins are smart enough (and not willing to lose such a valued customer) to set up a "Back Up" time frame for him. Meaning when he goes, if he doesn't contact them after a certain period of time, they will send people to go looking for him.

Mango: smart

Rosie: This, in turn, keeps Harry from being absolutely terrified while in the studio. He knows help is coming, he just needs to keep calm and safe until they arrive.

Mango: poor naive boy

Rosie: Overall, it's good logic. He needs to keep himself safe, and he needs to not fall into a mindless panic.

Mango: true

Rosie: But then he meets Sammy. Sammy is a lot of things (including crazy), but he knows that his "Lord" was born from a children's cartoon character, and probably wouldn't be happy with him if he tried to sacrifice a child.

Mango: ohhh boy

Rosie: So he tries to catch Harry, and move him to a "safer" place.

Mango: awww

Rosie: But he doesn't know about Harry's fight reflexes. The ones the wizarding world trained into him. Sammy gets a stunner to the face for his efforts.

Mango: oof then he reverts to true salt briefly "listen, kid, i'm trying to keep you safe!"

Rosie: "I'm sorry! You startled me!" Sammy; What are you even doing here? Harry; I-I'm looking for someone.

Mango: "tell me their name, i might know of them"

Rosie: "Sammy, Sammy Lawrence. He-He was my Mum's Uncle. I wanted to find him." Cue silent shock.

Mango: sammy freezes up at that

Lili: I LOVE THIS

Rosie: 'I had a niece?' I think Sammy is going to be an older cousin of Harry's grand-dad. Like, a much older cousin.

Mango: "well, you found me, kid, now what?"

Rosie: (well hello awkward silence, how nice of you to join us.)

Mango: (XD)

Rosie: I dunno what would happen then, but I think it would "end" with the Goblins sending a full rescue team of Curse Breakers after the first few arrive and sense the sheer *volume* of dark magic from the studio, and then Sammy is living a mostly sane ink man with his great-nephew while being treated by the local magical hospital. And all wizards that show up at their door get the full brunt of Sammy Salt.

Mango: i want sammy getting salty at hogwarts

Rosie: I envision lots of shorts that would basically be "The Life and Times of a Wizard and an Ink Man".

Mango: yesssss

Rosie: Harry is very interested in Curse Breaking and Medical Magic now. Sammy is pissed that Hogwarts doesn't offer proper Music and Drama programs. "What do you *mean* you never had a music class there?!"

Mango: he has half a mind to storm up to the school and DEMAND an arts program

Rosie: "Get me an instrument, no one in my family is *not* going to know how to play *something* musical." Hell, he'd probably teach the kids *himself* with how offended he'd be at the concept. "I don't care if it's a bloody *recorder* Harry, you are going to learn to play music."

Trash Ma: he did have that flute hagrid made him in first year

Rosie: Oh, that's perfect!

Trash Ma: The one that sounded like an owl That Harry used to get past fluffy

Rosie: Yes. "My, that's actually quite nice. Now you'll need to hold it like this..." Sammy turns out to be pretty good with kids. Or, at least, he's good with Harry. I like this new idea. "Good Dad" Sammy. It has a nice ring to it.

Mango: sammy? a dad? yes please

Rosie: Or at least "Good Uncle" Sammy. I want to see wizards trying to handle Angry Ink Man Sammy acting in defense of his nephew.

Mango: y e s also, the Dursleys getting tried for child abuse

Rosie: Harder to pull with Sammy still being and ink man. He can't exactly stand up in court. Unless it was a Magical Court. Now then, back to Uncle Sam.

Mango: UNCLE SAM everyone at hogwarts being a little confused about harry's inky american uncle

Rosie: How about after finding out was his great-nephew, he gets super protective of him in the Studio.

Mango: y e s

Rosie: "Oh no, 'My Lord' can go *fuck* himself, I'm not letting him lay a *single finger* on you."

Trash Ma: So is sammu related to lily or james

Mango: and i am 1000000% behind uncle sammy protecting harry in the studio

Rosie: Lily.

Mango: sammy's the cousin of lily's grandpa, right?

Rosie: Lily's dad, Harry's grandpa. He's the older cousin of Lily's dad.

Mango: ah makes sense

Trash Ma: Harry's grandpa's name was also Harry i mean not canonically but i like that

Rosie: I wrote it as Harold. He was named "Harry" in honor of him.

Trash Ma: yaaaaass

Mango: i like this

Rosie: Sammy is now also dead set on getting Harry out of the Studio safely. Even when the Salt is mostly replaced by Crazy, he still wants Harry out of there Safely. He ditches the Bendy mask at some point too.

Mango: he's not letting harry see that

Rosie: As the Curse Breakers extract more people/toons from the studio, they end up being placed under the care of House Potter, since Harry is letting the Goblins fund the clean out with money from the Potter vaults. Since his search was what started it all. So Harry's ending up with a big, messed up, traumatized, and mentally wounded family living under his roof.

Mango: LOTTA TOONS

Rosie: And Sammy ending up the "Boss" of the house since he's the "oldest member" of Harry's family (and is now his guardian thanks to the Goblins) What if Uncle Sam was one of those border-line Hover Parents? He doesn't hover Harry's shoulder, but he *does* repeatedly stuck his head in the room and go "Everything alright in here?" Also, someone starts laughing really hard the first time Sammy gets called "Uncle Sam". Then they start confusing people by quoting the recruiting posters. "Uncle Sam wants YOU!" "Oh, shut up, would you?" Harry is so confused.

Poe: Pfft

Rosie: I want Sammy to start having one of his "Prophet"- Episodes while Dumbledore is trying to talk him into sending Harry back to Dursleys. "No, it's not going to happen. I will not allow it. He WiLl nOt be gOinG BaCk to TheM!" "Uncle Sammy, please calm down! Professor, I think you should leave for now." Dumbledore; "Now Harry, I'm sure we can talk this-" Harry; "No sir, Uncle Sammy has some issues he's still recovering from. I need to stay because I'm the only one that's safe when it kicks in. You should *really* leave Professor." Sammy; "LeAVe uS, Old GOaT. Or YoU'lL be An OfFerEd sHeEP." *Sammy starts singing the Sheep song from the game*

Lili: :D But also D: I love it But poor everyone

Rosie: *Harry pulls Sammy away and shoves Dumbles out the door* And yet the Goblins still had proof that Sammy (even with his Schizophrenia) was a better guardian for Harry than the Dursleys. The Prophet is obsessively protective of Harry. And still does a good job caring for him. Lots of food, hugs- he's actually kind of dotting, to be honest. He just talks crazy while doing it. Harry has gotten very good at cleaning spells. They have this weird balance for who's the Kid and who's the Adult. When Sammy's head is clear, he's the stable adult that makes sure Harry is happy and healthy and doing well with the school stuff he has.

Poe: Oh my god that's so cute and also sad I love it

Lili: PERFECT MIX OF FLUFF AND ANGST

Rosie: When the Prophet is out, Harry is the one keeping track of things and making sure Sammy doesn't hurt himself or others, but still letting him dot. But the ended up being very good at it. And they both end up helping each other heal. Harry with getting Sammy stable mentally and recovering from the damage of being trapped in the studio for so long, and Sammy getting to be more comfortable with himself and with actually having family that cared about him.

Poe: Aww,,

Lili: :')

Rosie: And the Salty Ink Man ends up becoming an honorary Goblin

Poe: I love recovery stories so much okay This is my j a m

Lili: Recovery stories are great

Poe: Like my favorite part about angst and trauma is the recovery it's so good

Rosie: He finds out about the people profiting from the disaster that befell the Potter family, and his nephew. He gets them to put up libel fines for that Boy-Who-Lived crap, and fines for anyone that had taken stuff from the Godric Hollow house after it had fallen. (You *know* there were souvenir hunters that broke in for stuff) Harry is shocked that there are laws about that kind of stuff and why no one told him about them before.

Mango: i love the entire uncle sammy arc

Rosie: I think this would have started before Harry's third year of school. It's the only one I can think of where Harry could have had the time for the test and to gather the stuff for going overseas. I'm gonna say the stuff that leads to Harry going to Diagon happened earlier, so he had more time decided to to go the states instead of waiting until the end of the next school year. Since he did that, he ends up staying in the states of the first half of his third year. So ho doesn't know about Sirius be connected to the Potters until Sammy tries to get a look at the wills of Harry's parents, finds out they were sealed, and that Harry's Godfather had never gotten a trial.

Mango: tRIAL FOR SIRIUS, WOO HOO i just really like sirius, doggone it

Rosie: Abso-freaking-lutely!

Mango: how well would sammy and sirius get along?

Rosie: And Dumbledore getting himself into trouble. Yes, once they got over the initial bumps in the road.

Mango: now i want sammy in prophet mode to call sirius a sheepdog

Rosie: Sammy would be mad at him for putting his need for revenge over his responsibility to care for Harry in his best friend's place.

Mango: rip

Rosie: But he feels like the 12 years in prison for a crime he didn't commit are enough of a punishment. So now he just has to *make it up* to Harry.

Mango: wait, who thinks that, sammy?

Rosie: Sammy thinks that about Sirius.

Mango: ah, okay "i suffered for over tHiRty YeArS in that damned studio before Harry came looking for me"

Rosie: As for Dumbledore, he's in a lot of hot water for sealing the will of an old pure-blood family, and claiming it was to keep Harry's location a secret. And unintentionally blocking the path of justice while he was at it.

Mango: ffs dumbles

Rosie: What was the rest of Sammy's sentence? Was there more after what you wrote?

Mango: i just don't like periods but i was thinking that he’d say something like, "so don’t even SPEAK to me about imprisonment"

Rosie: Oh, it just sounded like he was going to say more. (Well, I don't think Dumbledore was a witness for the will, so he wouldn't have known what was in it. But with his firm belief in second chances, he could have thought that Petunia would have been listed as a safe person for Harry to be left with. I don't like a purely evil Dumbledore, I like him as a misguided person better)

Mango: that makes sense he still gets in trouble tho sammy and sirius head that train

Rosie: "Don't talk to me about imprisonment with me, just work to *make up* for not being there."

Mango: and then sirius DOES

Rosie: Yes.

Mango: and the prankster dad and the salty drama dad become friends

Lili: YES

Rosie: YES

Lili: ALL OF THIS

Rosie: Sirius also gets a good look at angry Prophet Sammy at some point, probably when the Minister ends up sticking his foot in his mouth.

Mango: hoo boy that’s gotta be scary

Poe: Ooo

Rosie: He also sees how well Harry is handling at handling his schizophrenic Uncle's episodes.

Mango: they're all one big happy family :D

Rosie: Yes, flawed families do the best job of filling in each other's gaps.

Mango: i want henry there too but i like henry too much

Rosie: At some point, Harry is dragged back to England because that's where his school is. But Sammy comes with him since they just *can't* leave him unattended. And I mean Sammy. Henry could be there. He and Harry could arrive at the same time.

Mango: :D

Rosie: Henry let's Harry come with him instead of letting the kid wander off on his own.

Mango: yesssss

Rosie: They get separated in the music department which is when Sammy tries to catch Harry, only to find out he was a great uncle and had never known.

Mango: henry finds harry again

Rosie: With Uncle Sam! And Hen is shocked by the state Sammy is in.

Mango: Sammy kind of guards harry from hen, almost not recognizing him

Rosie: And Harry is caught between wanting to tell them help would be coming for them and trying to keep magic a secret. He has to explain that Henry is a friend and not someone he needs to be protected from.

Mango: plot twist: henry's a small time wandmaker and knows about magic

Rosie: (To be honest, I like focusing on the Sammy-Harry relationship better)

Mango: (that’s fine, it’s your au. i just have a weird fixation)

Rosie: (is fine. I can understand it) Second half of Third year is Harry and Sammy continuing to fill in personal holes, fix legal stuff, and get used to their very weird lives. Oh, and Harry is working to catch up with all his missed work in school. He was spending his time in the states filling in the gaps in his general magical knowledge. And he's missing a *lot* of "common" knowledge. He never knew how much he didn't know until people were trying to talk to him about it. (Also, mango, if you want to talk about how Hen would fit in, I don't mind. But I'll be focusing on Sammy shaking things up in the magical world.)

Mango: (maybe later, i don’t really have any ideas atm)

Rosie: I think that Harry ends up with a house (or something) in/near Hogsmead, so that Sammy won't be in the Castle as often as he would be if they were actually staying in the castle. Cause, you know, he's a schizophrenic with homicidal/volatile/violent tendencies Or at least somewhere close enough that Harry could hop on the train to get to school. Since there's no way that train *only* goes to Hogwarts and King's Cross.

Mango: no way in hell

Rosie: Harry kind of likes the new schedule, since he now sits in a small breakfast with his small family, then goes to the station to ride to school, has his school day (with lunch there), rides home, and has dinner with his family. Rinse and repeat. He doesn't have to deal with the fame games and student issues 24/7 anymore. And he loves it.

Poe: Aww How is his relationship with his classmates?

Rosie: I think the place they're all staying in is an old Potter family house, that was in a town that had a Hogwarts Express station. But it didn't see a lot of traffic since so few magicals lived near there. It was getting used again since Harry had sent a request for them to stop there for him to get too and from School. This is also re-implanting the idea of using the express for more than just getting to and from school during the holidays. More students are taking weekend trips on the train to find out where else it goes. People organize train trips to plot out the routes the train travels (they had never thought about it before) Other parents meet ink man Sammy, and while weirded out by his appearance, they approve of his ideas about the school and caring for a magical kid. And dealing with magic in general.

Mango: imagine sammy becoming more famous than lockhart sAMMY WRITING A PARENTING BOOK FOR MAGICALS

Rosie: Sammy, though salty, is actually pretty likable and has lots of good ideas that magical parents like and muggle parents agree with. Yes. Henry is the co-author.

Mango: yesss i think sammy would hate snape tbh

Rosie: Sammy; "They need proper music and arts programs, how do you expect children to learn about those things if you don't teach them?" MugParent; "Exactly! How can they learn about what interests them if you don't expose them to it?" Oh heck yeah. Sammy may be salty, but Snape is just plain *cruel* to his students.

Mango: sammy goes full prophet on his ass

Rosie: Snape would do better dealing with older students who *honestly interested* in the subject than kids who are only there because it was required.

Mango: oh definitely

Rosie: Harry has to jump on his Uncle to keep the Prophet from stabbing Snape with an ingredient knife.

Mango: o o f

Rosie: After Snape was taking pot shots at Harry and Neville.

Mango: Understandable

Rosie: It was a protective rage. From that point on everyone works to keep Sammy and Snape separated. Later on, Sammy makes the statement about Snape not being fit for teaching younger students when Harry tells him more about the man. And he makes it to someone on the Board of Governors.

Mango: oh damn.

Rosie: They agree with him.

Mango: that’s impressive

Rosie: He didn't know the person he was part of the Board. He was just making conversation with someone during a parent weekend.

Mango: ah now i’m just imagining him rant to like 20 different people at different times about snape

Rosie: Of course! He's too salty to keep to himself.

Mango: he’s also ranting about how hogwarts needs an arts and music course

Rosie: Yes. Harry's friends are unsure of ink Uncle.

Mango: sammy is good at ranting

Rosie: Hermione is horrified that Harry would skip out on half a school year to find a relative he'd never met, but Sammy talking about improving the school is lifting her opinion. Ron is amazed by the adventure Harry went on without meaning to, but Sammy scares him a bit.

Poe: This is so beautiful

Mango: ikr

Rosie: I wonder how Mr. Weasley would react to Sammy? Mrs. Weasley would probably not be happy about Harry living with him. She wouldn't think he was a good guardian because of his mental health issues.

Mango: coughablistcough

Rosie: I was working from the idea that she didn't think Sammy made a good guardian because Harry kept having to care for *him* instead of the other way around. Parents were supposed to be caring for their kids, not the other way around. And, you know, she's stifling and kind-of controlling for anyone she thinks of as one of "Her" kids. (I think the reason her oldest sons all picked up jobs that took them away from home was so they could escape her coddling.) But Harry is more capable than she's giving him credit for, and even when being crazy it's clear he cares about Harry. And Sammy doesn't treat Harry like he isn't able to tie his own shoes without help. Also, should there be actual toons in this AU? Or should they all be people that were used/altered by Joey?

Mango: i want to say actual toons

Rosie: It's a bit of a coin toss for me. Hence why I'm asking. Actual toons would be interesting and leaves room for recreating an alternate/new studio, but then I'd have to take time to explain how they could exist. With the people as toons, I can use stuff about Transfiguration how it was possible.

Mango: i vote option 2 then

Rosie: But the possibilities for both are fun too. *I need more than one person voting on this!*

Poe: I go with transfigured people because it functions better in the story and considering the magical world's problems with recognizing anything but wizards and witches as capable beings with rights unless you want to deal with that

Rosie: Okay, thank you. That is good reasoning. They will be transfigured people, and all receiving medical help thanks to Harry and Henry. Now I need to figure who's who in this. "Monster" Characters are: 'Bendy', The Prophet, Boris, Alice, Charley, Barley, Edgar, and the Projectionist. Which Alice theory should I use? Alice = Susie, Alice = Allison, or Alice = Susie Mixed with Allison? And which characters should be the Butchers? (Boris is gonna be Wally, I think. Though it might be fun to use Shawn!Boris...) Bah, I’ll focus more on that later. Harry asks to shuffle around his electives. Because now he's more interested in Curse Breaking and Healing magic than just getting easy grades. Divination is dropped for Arithmancy, Care is kept (because Hagrid is the teacher and he wants to support him) and he adds Ancient Runes as a subject. Henry shares that the best way to show how well you understand something is to try and explain it to someone else. So when Harry gets home he explains what he's learned to Sammy (if he's okay), or Boris. (Harry also got tutors from the Goblins while he was in the states, so he's not that far behind in Testing levels.) (The Goblins don't mention that it's the *international* testing levels.) (Harry is confused when he finds he's *ahead* of his classmates when he gets back to Hogwarts) (Sammy is even more offended by the school standards then)

Poe: Aww Cute thiings

Rosie: Should the people from the studio be able to see the Thestrals, or no? Also, since Joey is 'Bendy', should he be salvageable? Or is he gonna be 6ft under? You know, the more I think about it, the worse I realize the Hogwarts curriculum was. There were no math classes, no language classes, no writing classes, no art classes. Most parents would be frothing at the mouth over how unprepared those kids would be once they got out into the world. *I see so much Sammy Rage in the future of this AU.*

Mango: ***It shall be glorious**

Rosie: ***And we haven't even gotten to the chaos of fourth year yet.** ***Sammy is gonna hecking KILL the Minister if he gets his hands on him.**

Mango: HOO BOY

Rosie: Well, can you blame him? Fudge has shot himself in the foot more times than I dare to count.

Teir: If I can voice my opinion, I think Joey should be salvaged :P. I don't really have a justification, just that he's an interesting character to have around

Poe: I think having him discover functional magic could be interesting,

Rosie: That could work.

Trash Ma: Mom says actual toons

Rosie: So that's 2 for People changed into Toons, and 1 for Actual Toons.

#Uncle Sam AU #batim #Bendy and the Ink Machine #sammy lawrence #batim sammy #crossover #crossover au #harry potter #batim au #Harry Potter au #finally turned that one into text #cut out so much that wasn't needed #am very happy with this #mook writing #mook conversation

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kindly-whisper-norbury · 6 years

Photo

Regarding Loki in Avengers 4…

There are SPOILERS ahead for Avengers Infinity War, so please don’t read on unless you have already seen the movie, or else don’t mind being spoiled.

Still here? Alrighty, then. I just put on my reading glasses, so you know it is going to be a long one. And please forgive me if the “read more” doesn’t work… Tumblr Mobile is weird that way.

I was driving home from dropping my daughter off at work, and I was listening to some random songs, and one came on (which I will name at the end of this post) and it just threw an image into my head that I could not shake. But I don’t think that I would actually be able to fic it, so I am just going to put the thought out there for y'all to do with as you will.

The main gist of it is that there are mystical, scientific, and spiritual aspects within the MCU, and we have pretty much come to expect them to work in harmony. And in that respect, I was thinking what if the Stones also have their own personalities and thoughts, and are essentially living beings in their own right? I was thinking that they do not usually work together because they choose not to—because they know what will happen if they do—but the Gauntlet basically forced them to. It enslaved them, and made them do things that were against their nature.

What if in A4, the stones seek out the remaining Avengers to try and set things right? And after they succeed, and all the dust-people are returned to themselves, the Stones prepare to go their separate ways… but before they do, they decide to work together one last time and give gifts to those that helped to right the wrongs that Thanos forced them to perform.

They give nothing of cosmic or universe-shattering import, but small things. Little rewards, in the grand scheme of things, and they will reverse no deaths (something the Time Stone scolds Strange for doing). However, there are loopholes. Vision is brought back as an actual flesh-and-blood man by the combined efforts of the Mind and Reality stones, for example, because he was never actually “alive” to begin with, and part of his psyche still resided within Mind.

But they choose the gifts on their own, and nothing is outright asked for. When they come to Thor, they look into his mind and they see how much he has lost. His family, his friends, his home, his throne. What could they do for him? They see his parents in his thoughts, but even if the Stones were willing to bring them back, they would not do so because Thor believes they are happy together now in Valhalla.

Loki, though… when Thor thinks of Loki, he does not know where he might be. He died a warrior’s death, and he was of Asgard, but he was not Aesir. Would a Frost Giant be allowed in Valhalla? Was he now with Odin and Frigga and all the other Asgardians that lost their lives with honor? Or is he somewhere else? Is he alone?

The Stones tell him that Loki is not in Valhalla, and the news breaks Thor’s heart. They tell him then that he is not in Valhalla because he is not dead. Thor is dumbstruck. He thinks that maybe Loki lied again, that he faked it. But they tell him that no, he didn’t. Nor did he fake it either when he fell from the Bifrost or when he was stabbed by the Kursed.

His body protected itself both times. The first time, he was in the cold deep of space—an environment that a Frost Giant embraces. He fell through space until he slept, and when he awoke he was in Thanos’s clutches. Thanos knew what he was, knew how to make him do what he wanted. He tortured him with heat… endless, scorching heat. But Loki’s magic protected him, protected his heart and mind with a layer of ice. Yet still, Thanos broke him, and Loki had no choice but to do as he had been told.

On Svartalfheim, after he was stabbed, Loki’s magic again protected him. It again locked his mind and heart in ice, and he healed. When he awoke there, he was confused, afraid. He did not know where Thor had gone, and so Loki returned to Asgard. He wished at that moment only to speak to Odin, to find out what Odin would think of losing him. But Odin saw through the illusion, and Loki felt he had no choice but to banish him, or else again go into exile.

And now, Loki’s magic protects him once more. He is in the deep of space, frozen and barely alive—but he is broken, too far-gone to survive for long. He will not heal this time… but for the moment, he still lives. And with that, the Stones know what to give to the King of Asgard.

The Space Stone reaches out, brings Loki to Thor’s side. Loki is unconscious, and is now Jotun—his skin is blue and icy-cold. But here on the surface of the Earth, with the sun on him, he begins to warm. His magic begins to break down, and he starts to die. Thor begs the Stones to stop his death, and the Time Stone envelopes Loki, stopping him at the moment just before he passes away completely.

Time then begins to reverse for Loki. He fades and flashes back, grows younger and younger. Again, Thor asks the Stones to stop—but by the time they do, Loki is an infant. He begins to cry, and Thor kneels beside the naked blue child. They look to one another, and Thor touches his face. Like when Odin first held Loki as a baby, the child changes. He has looked into his brother’s mind, and has seen himself as Thor remembered him, and had made himself in that image.

Thor removes his cloak and covers the baby, then he looks to the Stones and asks if Loki will remember his life from before. They tell him that no, he won’t, because infants seldom hold to memories. The Stones sense that Thor does not want Loki to forget everything, and so the Time Stone again wraps its influence around the prince. He ages again, and when he reaches what for humans would be mid-adolescence, the Stone releases him. The now-teenage Loki looks to Thor, who asks him if he remembers anything, and Loki says no—then he asks Thor who he is.

Thor tells him that they are brothers, then he places their brows together, and he tells him that he will remember for both of them. At once, memories flash in both Loki and Thor’s minds. Loki sees them as they were—both the happy times and the times when they fought; he sees the betrayals and the sacrifices; he sees the years go by in an instant, and he does not like everything that he sees.

Thor asks him once more if he remembers, because he felt the memories, as well. Loki tells him, “only pieces”. Loki asks Thor if he can forgive him for all the mistakes he made; and Thor asks Loki to do the same for him. Loki looks to the sky and smiles at the sun.

And on and on life goes, and if I can step out of the wandering thoughts for a moment and to what the future would hold…

Thor would then become Loki’s guardian and teach him the history of their people, and all of the other Avengers would play a part in his life. For example (and assuming all these people survive/return): Doctor Strange and Wanda would guide him through re-learning the mystical arts, Clint would help to administer the right kind of discipline (including self-discipline), Natasha would re-teach him combat arts, Steve would give a living example of how to live life honorably, he would learn from Bruce how to control his more violent impulses, he would find in Tony a kindred-spirit to speak to about the trauma they have gone through, T'Challa would teach him how to be a good leader, Vision would be right there with him in learning how to be “human”, Bucky would spend time with him and speak about how best to forgive themselves for the mistakes they made (even if some of those mistakes were not of their own making, but were forced upon them), and Rhody and Sam would both teach him different aspects of the military (such as bearing, and how and when to obey—or creatively disobey—the rules).

He would not only be surrounded by adults, though, as he would have peers in Peter and Shuri; as well as more “regular” people, such as Harley Keener, Cassie Lang, Ned Leeds, Michelle Jones, and Cooper and Lila Barton.

And I know this is all very far-fetched, and dripping with wishful-thinking… but what if, guys… what if even part of this happens? What if we do get Loki back, but a younger Loki? One that made the mistakes, that remembers them… but now feels that there is a chance to at least change something for the better? The things he did were not erased—they are still there. He still remembers them, but they are not who he is. They never were, but now he realizes that. What if he gets a second chance?

For the record, the song that got his thought-train rolling was “I’ll Keep You Safe” by Sleeping At Last… but now I am working on a full-fledged playlist to go along with it. Because even if this doesn’t happen (and I doubt it will), in some reality of this multi-verse I am sure it could.

#avengers infinity war #infinity war #infinity war spoilers #loki #kid loki #marvel #whisper posts stuff #whisper talks about avengers 4

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talesfromthefade · 7 years

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DWC: “I don’t think we have anything left to say to each other.”

Sorry this took so long for me to fill. I had another idea in mind for this prompt but kept getting stuck, and then I was looking over the prompts for @dahalloween and this one just sort of came to me and took on a life of its own. I hope you enjoy. I’ve always wanted to write how Eloise came to be an ‘Abomination’ and how Cullen might react to finding out.

Eloise Trevelyan x Cullen Rutherford, for @dadrunkwriting

“It’s alright,” Eloise offers up quietly without looking up from the horse she is busying herself with grooming. “I understand,” the mage continues, shaking her head. He doesn’t need to say it. Whatever it is that’s been growing between the two of them in the last few months can’t possibly continue now, can’t survive this. She will be lucky to continue being Herald and Inquisitor after this. Not for the first time, it occurs to her that now would be an excellent time to follow Varric’s early assessment of running, before they have a chance to catch and chain her up once more. But she’s done running. Good or ill, she will face the consequences of her decisions. “This wasn’t how I wanted you to find out. I should have told you sooner, I know, but… I never meant to keep it from you. Not forever. Once we began to spend more time together, and I started to care for you, I didn’t know how- I- was afraid you would hate me,” she admits tearfully, fully aware she’s likely ensured this outcome by her silence rather than avoiding it as she’d hoped. “That doesn’t make it right, I know. For what it’s worth, I am sorry,” she says, mournful hazel eyes finally lifting up to meet his amber ones.

“So, it’s true, then,” Cullen says softly. “You’re- an abomination.”

“I-” she hesitates before answering softly. “I prefer the term vessel.”

“You don’t deny it?”

“No,” Eloise replies firmly. She wants to say that she regrets it. That she wishes it weren’t true, but she can’t form the words. They wouldn’t be true. Whatever she feels for Cullen, certainly it is more and something entirely new than she’s ever felt before, it will hurt to lose it. But she cannot imagine herself other than she is now. Cannot bring herself to regret her decision or the good she has since been able to do because of it.

“You’re possessed by a demon.”

“A spirit,” she corrects, knowing at this point, at least with the former Templar, she’s likely splitting hairs, but unable to ignore him maligning the spirit inside her.

“A spirit,” he repeats, clearly still a little skeptical, a bit cautious. He’s not moved from the doorway of the stables, and his hand is resting, ready on the pommel of his sword like a good Templar, should it prove necessary. He’s poised to defend himself. To defend others from her. All this time she’d thought they had been getting on better, putting their differences aside, perhaps even begun to help one another heal. But the way he is looking at her now, his body ready to strike, it breaks her heart. Somehow she’d thought… She’d find that right way, the right time to tell him. It would be a shock, almost certainly, and given his past, a difficult one, but she’d hoped… It doesn’t matter now, she thinks sadly. “Like Cole?”

“Very much like him,” Eloise nods in confirmation. “A spirit of Compassion just as he is.”

“Solas said those were rare.”

“They are,” she nods. “I have seen and been helped by many spirits, particularly after I began to study healing. But before Cole, I had only ever met one such spirit.”

“The one you-” Cullen beings, but trails off, seemingly unsure of how best to put what he wishes to express into words. She nods all the same. “How did you...?”

“You know most of the story already,” she nods with a rueful smile. “When the tower fell, I tried to find the younger apprentices- the children, the ones who wouldn’t know how to properly defend themselves. But by the time I reached them-” she continues, choking back a sob and swallowing hard before continuing. “A Templar caught me trying to heal one of them, badly injured, but still alive. Just barely. He dispelled my magic and drew his blade on me. Gave me this before an explosion threw us against opposite walls.” Cullen nods slowly, waiting for the part of the tale he’s not yet familiar with. “When I came to there was so much blood, so many dead, few of them quick or painless. They suffered. Their last moments were filled with fear and agony. Everything was still falling apart around me, but I couldn’t move. Couldn’t think. All I could see was their faces, all I could hear was their screams, their pleas. Everything they were, everything they might have been gone. And I was still alive. Then I felt this sort of warmth come over me, a voice calling out to me, comforting me. One I’d not heard in years.”

“I wasn’t the boy my parents had hoped for. The next best thing I could do was to make sure I married well, so mother started her search early. I was eight or nine, I don’t recall how old my suitor was. A number of years. He was half again my height, at least,” she recalls. “It was a kiss. Just a kiss,” she continues, shaking her head with a hollow sort of chuckle. “Except I’d never had one before, and I had this romantic notion that one never forgets their first kiss, so I’d been saving it. He couldn’t have known. But I was distraught. I ran. It had rained the day before, and I tripped. Fell and hit my head on a rock,” she explains, gently pushing back long brunette locks from her brow to reveal the hint of a scar just at the hairline.

“I’d seen the Fade before in dreams, but I’d never been so deep before. I was lost. Couldn’t wake up. Healers told my parents I might not ever. Eventually, I started drawing attention. Most of it bad. Demons. But one spirit. It heard me crying. It helped me. Comforted me. Guided me. Kept me safe, until I was finally able to wake up. With their help, I kept my magic in control and my powers hidden for a number of years. They never asked for anything, never tried to make any deals like the demons. They only wanted to help. All those years, all that distance, but they heard me crying, felt me breaking, and they came. I’d never have left the tower without them. I didn’t want to. Didn’t think I deserved to. Why should I have lived when so many others hadn’t?” It’s a sentiment of guilt and regret, she knows from their previous conversations about their past traumas Cullen is intimately familiar with himself. “With their help, I could do some good. I couldn’t bring them all back, but maybe I could stop it happening again.”

“We helped and healed everyone we could, and we fled. Some of them went their separate ways afterward, tried to find family, friends, or safe haven somewhere. That was when we heard about the results of the vote and the Conclave. You know the rest.”

Cullen is silent, still staring at her. “I should have told you,” Eloise repeats, shaking her head. “But I woke up in chains and with everyone convinced I’d killed the Divine. How could I tell you I was an abomination when the last one you knew blew up the Chantry and killed Kirkwall’s Grand Cleric?”

“Say something,” she prompts, finally setting down the brush in her hand and abandoning the pretense of doing anything besides waiting for him to pass his judgment. She’s hardly in a position to ask anything of him now, but the silence… it’s deafening. “Please?”

“I-” Cullen tries, swallowing hard. “I don’t know what to say,” he admits, shaking his head. “Can you- Does that mean you can read what’s inside people’s heads, the way Cole does?”

Eloise shakes her head. “No. It’s not precisely the same thing. Cole is a spirit. He’s pure. My spirit and I, we’re sharing, our thoughts, our abilities. It’s harder to hear over ourselves. I can sense things- sort of feel things sometimes. But just emotions. Not thoughts.” Cullen nods, though he still looks worried.

“You said you wanted to help.” Eloise nods. “Cole wants to help too. He- He’s drawn to pain, hurt. I-” he hesitates. “Is that what this was? What we were,” he asks finally voicing the doubt and fear with a frown and furrowed brow. He’s not meeting her gaze anymore, perhaps because he couldn’t bring himself to ask the question that’s been burning within him if he did, his wringing hands suddenly calling attention to the fact he’s no longer thinking of her as an immediate threat. Except perhaps to something more internal and far more fragile. It’s... Not what she had expected, and the young mage finds herself fighting not to make too much of it, to allow herself to become too hopeful for what it might mean. That perhaps this isn’t quite so hopeless as it had seemed when the revelation had come to light in the last meeting with her Council, through Cassandra’s field report.

“You- that’s what you’re worried about,” she asks, not entirely able to believe it. “Not that I won’t suddenly turn into some kind of hideous monster and try to kill you?”

“Seems to me you’ve had ample opportunities to do that,” he replies thoughtfully. “I- I’m still a little… this is going to take some time to adjust to,” he admits. “If you say this spirit is a good one, that you both only want to help and do good, that you’re still you, then I believe you. Maybe the Chantry doesn’t know everything about the Fade,” he admits cautiously. “But, I… what I said, I meant it. I’ve never felt like this with anyone. So, if this is just you wanting to help. To fix someone… I need to know it’s me, not my damage that you’re attracted to,” he confesses, finally dragging heavy amber eyes back up to meet her own.

“I can’t help you with that, Cullen,” Eloise replies gently, hazel eyes shining with tears as she shakes her head. “Either you believe me when I say that I love you- for all that you are- and we will work through this, or you don’t, in which case there is little more to say, and even less to fight to save between us. Only you can answer that.”

“Take some time,” she nods patiently gathering herself and her things to take her leave with a goodbye pat to her horse, much as it pains her to do so. “You know where to find me.”

#dadrunkwriting #dahalloween #cullen x trevelyan #cullen x inquisitor #dragon age: inquisition #eloise trevelyan #tales:eloise #dragon age #superfluouskeys

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the-shy-and-anxious-fangirl · 6 years

Text

We’re Broken People

Lucifer Morningstar and Oliver Queen commiserate about the traumas that left them broken, and the women who, bit by bit, are helping them to heal.

Read on Ao3

Oliver still wasn’t sure, entirely, how he ended up here, nursing a drink in an empty nightclub that reminded him painfully of Verdant in the glory days when he’d run it side by side with Tommy, though Lux- true to its name- was a million times more decadent than Verdant had ever been. He should have been in Star City, with William and with Thea and with Felicity. Home, with his family. He shouldn’t even have left. But he’d needed time to… think. To process. That could only be done with distance, and the part of his brain that was always looking for threats, for targets, had sent him here, after the man who claimed to be the Devil and granted favors to those who sought him out, provided they caught him in the right mood.

“Oliver Queen,” said a voice behind him, one that he’d never heard but was sure belonged to the infamous Lucifer Morningstar. “Come to expand your vigilante operations and build a lair beneath my nightclub as well?” Oliver stiffened. He had no idea how Lucifer knew that he is- or rather, was- the Green Arrow, or how he knew about the old lair underneath Verdant, but then, Lucifer Morningstar had a reputation for knowing things he shouldn’t.

“I actually don’t use the lair underneath Verdant anymore,” Oliver said without turning, seeing no point in pretense. “It was compromised about two years ago. I came to talk.”

“Ah, here for a favor, are you?” Lucifer asked, something eager in his voice. “I must admit, I didn’t realize that my reputation had spread as far as Star City, but I’m happy to oblige.”

This time, Oliver does turn to look at him. He wasn’t sure what he expected the self proclaimed ruler of Hell to look like, but the tall, dark haired man standing in front of him, wearing a thousand dollar suit and a wicked smile, wasn’t it.

“No,” he said flatly, though there was a part of him that leaped at even the thought of there being a way to make his indictment and Agent Watson’s investigation just…disappear. Lucifer looked downright disappointed at his response. He moved toward the bar, reaching over it for a bottle of scotch and a glass with an inhuman, feline grace. He gestured toward Oliver with the bottle, to which he replied with a shake of his head. Lucifer nodded, filled his own glass, and set the bottle down on the bar. The room echoed with the resounding chink of glass hitting glass. He took a sip of his drink and leaned back against the bar, bracing his elbows on the edge of it. Oliver watched him warily out of the corner of his eye. There was something about Lucifer Morningstar that set him on edge.

For a long while, neither of them spoke. Lucifer finished off his drink, setting his empty glass on the bar next to the bottle of scotch.

“So tell me,” he said, turning to face Oliver, his smile dark and dangerous, lascivious and teasing and a million other things besides, things Oliver didn’t know how to put names to. “What is it you truly desire?”

“I…” Oliver said hesitantly. The world seemed to fall away, until nothing existed but himself and Lucifer Morningstar’s obsidian eyes and a void that he might fall into if he looks at it too closely. It occurred to him, in the small part of his mind that was still, well, his, that this was some sort of magic, and the visceral need to get as far away from any form of magic as possible couldn’t quite overcome the strength of Lucifer’s hold on him.“I want to go on a honeymoon with my wife.” He lingered on the word wife. It was still new- new and beautiful and amazing- to him that he was married to Felicity. “Leave William with Thea for a few days and just…get away from it all.”

“Oh, how nauseatingly pedestrian,” Lucifer groaned, slumping back against the bar, breaking the spell in an instant. “I expected more from the Star City vigilante.”

“I’m sorry,” Oliver snapped, an unexpected flare of anger burning away the remnants of the trance. “Is what I want out of my life boring to you?” He resented the implication that Lucifer had been intending to use him as some form of cheap entertainment. He hates the feeling of being used, in general.

“Yes,” Lucifer said brusquely, pretending to stifle a yawn. “‘I want to go on a honeymoon with my wife,’” he added, mocking. “Do you have any idea how many men want to go on honeymoons with their wives?”

“None!” Oliver shouted, stalking away from the bar and starting to pace, to Lucifer’s apparent surprise. “Because they don’t have to just want to!” He continued pacing until he’d calmed down a bit, silently cursing his outburst. Revealing too much personal information to someone who may or may or not have been the Devil probably wasn’t the best idea.

“My apologies,” Lucifer said. There was something strange in his voice. He sounded almost…contrite. “I didn’t realize that I’d struck a nerve. I didn’t intend to anger you.” Oliver suspected that that wasn’t entirely true, but he let the matter lie.

“I have to make a phone call,” he said instead.

“I don’t know why you’re telling me,” Lucifer replied in a bored tone, his words punctuated by a lazy shrug. “Do what you want.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Oliver was pacing again, this time from one end of the bar to the other, running a hand through his hair while he talked on the phone. Lucifer watched him, bemused. Human behavior was often puzzling to him. There was an affectionate purr in Oliver’s rumbling baritone voice as he spoke to the person on the other end of the call that filled Lucifer with a deep sense of longing that he couldn’t quite place. What exactly was it he was supposedly missing? Hearing someone speak to him with love in their voice? He had never desired that, until…of course. His features folding into a scowl, he tried to push those thoughts away and returned to watching Oliver pace, although truth be told, at the moment he didn’t present the most interesting subject for people-watching. He was in the middle of exchanging goodbyes and “I love you"s with the person on the phone.

“What are you so angry about?” he asked, pulling Lucifer out of his musings. He wasn’t sure why he cared. After all, they were practically strangers. He made a vague gesture upwards, which, had he been speaking to Chloe, she would have understood to mean “Dad”. The thought of Chloe only served to make him angrier. He didn’t answer Oliver’s question though, because it bloody well wasn’t his business what he was angry about. They stood in tense silence, Oliver clearly still waiting for an answer that Lucifer had no intention of giving him. Finally, he shrugged and moved back toward the bar, conceding defeat. Lucifer got the feeling that conceding defeat wasn’t something Oliver Queen did very often.

“I understand why you don’t want to talk about it,” Oliver said, leaning on the bar. “I can see that you’ve been through hell.”

“How could you possibly know that?” Lucifer asked, bristling. He tried very hard to maintain his cool, uncaring persona, but it seemed Oliver was adept at disrupting it. Oliver scoffed.

“Are you kidding?” he asked. “It’s like looking in a mirror.” Lucifer didn’t immediately respond. He wasn’t entirely sure what the appropriate response to a statement like that would even be. Finally, he decided on, “It would seem that we are both broken people.” He joined Oliver in his deceptively casual repose against the bar.

“Yes,” Oliver agreed, his voice quiet, “but we don’t have to stay that way. There are ways for us to be…less broken.”

“I don’t see how,” Lucifer replied doubtfully.

“I can’t answer that for you,” Oliver told him. “You have to find the way on your own, but…if you can find someone, someone who is always there for you, who believes in you when no one else does, even yourself, that’s… that’s a start.”

“Do you have someone like that?” Lucifer asked.

“I do,” Oliver said with a nod. “Do you?”

“I thought I did,” Lucifer told him. “But now…I’m not so sure.” Oliver didn’t respond.

“I thought what we had was real,” Lucifer went on. “Or rather, I think I wanted it to be real, but it wasn’t, and I should have known. I should have realized that Chloe had no control over her feelings. She would never feel that way about me if she had any say in the matter.”

“Well, that’s awfully defeatist,“Oliver muttered.

“I see no point in thinking any other way,” Lucifer countered. Oliver sighed.

“Look,” he said. “Take it from someone who had to learn this the hard way- you can’t be happy if you don’t allow yourself to be. If you keep discounting all the good in your life, eventually you’ll stop seeing it entirely. That’s no way to live, trust me.” Lucifer took a moment to ponder his words.

“And how, might I ask,” he said, “did you finally come around to this conclusion?” Oliver studied him for a long moment before answering, as if assessing what he might do with whatever information he was about to pass on.

“Someone showed me the light,” he said cryptically, and then, for reasons unknown to Lucifer, he left.

#i swear this wasn't supposed to be a fic #it was just supposed to be like one quick little scene #but it turned into a thing and i couldn't stop it #dc entertainment #lucifer on fox #arrowverse #arrow #oliver queen #lucifer morningstar #my fic #arianna writes

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ruffoverthinksthings · 7 years

Note

Can you do the ship meme for Jane x anyone you want?

1.Whois the most affectionate?:

Jane.

Likeall the other times I’ve mentioned her, Mal has been constantlydrilled that showing any sort of affection or care for other peopleis the worst kind of weakness you can ever show, and the scarsand traumas of Maleficent’s shitty parenting take a LONG while toheal.

2.Bigspoon/Little spoon?:

Malis big spoon, Jane is little spoon.

Asidefrom the fact that Mal starts naturally producing dragon fire and iswarm and cozy to snuggle up to at night, Mal feels much morecomfortable being the “protector” of the two, and Jane is morethan happy to have someone beside her to fend off the anxieties andnightmares.

3.Mostcommon argument?:

Whetheror not to do something in public.

Janeslowly loses her social anxieties as evidenced by her becoming partof the cheerleading squad and having her face out rather than hiddenin the Fighting Knight part of the school mascot, but she’s stillVERY reluctant to do many things where people can see her and judgeher, even if most people really couldn’t care.

Itdoesn’t really help that, willingly or not, Mal becomes one of themost public faces for VK reform in Auradon, along with her artneeding publicity and attention from the media to actually turn aprofit.

4.Favoritenon-sexual activity?:

Youwould think it’s Jane braiding and styling Mal’s hair, you’d bewrong.

Withthis specific pair, it’s actually hanging in just their underwearin Jane’s room, and eventually, their own brownstone apartment thatthey have all to themselves. Jane has suffered a lot of socialanxieties and expectations foisted upon her, not the least of whichwas the conservative ideals of Auradon that says that even in theprivacy of your room, you should be decent should someone happen tocome by for a chat.

It’sa form of rebellion for her to be this free and shameless about hersexuality and her body, long sources of shame and distress for her asAuradon has very little room for experimentation, expression, orfreedom in general.

“Ican dance in just my underwear, and I don’t ever feel like there’sinvisible eyes watching me! It’s great!”

Malhas a different brand of issues, in that the public takes greatoffense to whenever she is “daring” or “VK” here in Auradon,and it has bred an even stronger distaste in her for theirconservative values. Also, you couldn’t really walk around in yourunderwear in the Isle, if you had the choice—“it’s cold, it’sgrimy, and there’s PLENTY of things you do NOT want to step inwithout a slipper, at the least.”

Onan incidental note, this is why the two of them get rather hot andbothered when in the presence of silly print panties, particularlystyles similar to the ones they already own.

AndYES, Mal still has the green baby dragon print panties. Jane’s iswhite with baby blue “bow tie butterflies.”

5.Whois most likely to carry the other?:

Mal,with Jane.

Thereare many days where Jane just doesn’t want to do anything anymore,and Mal makes it a point that her girlfriend gets home safely or tosomewhere she can rest and recharge where there isn’t noise,people, or inquisitive reporters bothering her.

6.Whatis their favorite feature of their partner’s?:

Mal’seyes are an endless source of fascination for Jane. She really likesthe draconic quality they can take when she’s angry or excited, andthat she can read so much of her emotions and feelings from her eyes,not that that means much because Jane has fairy empathy and can tellexactly what she feels at any moment.

Onthe flipside, Mal finds herself REALLY into Jane’s body, becauseshe’s been so conservative and reserved about it, and now thatshe’s willingly and subtly changing it into something less “basic”and much more shapely, curvy, and full-figured (like a younger,sexier version of Fairy Godmother’s original form and her currentshape), she finds herself frequently accidentally setting things onfire when jets of flame shoot out of her nostrils when her internaltemperature gets too much.

Beforeyou ask, Jane has mastered basic fire suppression magic, and takes itas the clearest sign that the outfit or look is a “Yes, please.”

7.What’sthe first thing that changes when they realize they have feelings forthe other?:

Maland Jane are both incredibly socially awkward and avoidant when itcomes to this thing called “feelings,” and probably spend a longwhile trying to intentionally avoid each other, and accidentally runinto each other because they both happen to figure out “What’sthe least likely place I’m going to run into Jane/Mal?”, gothere, and irony runs its course.

It’seven worse that they now they can’t use the “I just so happenedto be at our usual haunts at the same time as you” excuse becausethere’s really no reason Jane nor Mal would ever be at a make-upstore without Evie helping them navigate and fend off the, ah,‘highly enthusiastic’ store clerks and product reps.

8.Nicknames?& if so, how did they originate?:

Mal’sare “My Little Space Heater” after said internal dragon firedevelops thanks to magic exposure, “Blaze” because she keepsaccidentally setting things on fire whenever she’s turned on, and“Vi” as in “violet,” one of her many preferred shades ofpurple.

Jane’sare “Bo” as in bow tie because of Jane’s preference for them,“Mom” used jokingly whenever she’s scolding Mal or trying toget her to act more mature, and “Mistress” when they’re gettingkinky.

9.Whoworries the most?:

Jane.

Malis no calm, collected, and anxiety-free individual herself, but Janeis just the much more severe train wreck.

10.Whoremembers what the other one always orders at a restaurant?:

Jane,by virtue of infallible fairy memory.

11.Whotops?:

Jane.

12.Whoinitiates kisses?:

Jane.

Again,Mal is awkward about asking for physical intimacy and kisses, letalone initiating them, so Jane just preemptively showers her withlove.

13.Whoreaches for the other’s hand first?:

Jane.

Shedecides to be more daring with Mal, because she’s got limited timeto make a move on her (284 years at the least, give or take), andbecause she tires of the game of avoidance and awkward coincidencesthat happen after they first realize they’re gay for each other.

14.Whokisses the hardest?:

Mal.

Initiatingkisses? Terrible at it. Getting going once they’re actually firedup? There is very literal smoke when they break away, and possiblysinge marks to the beginnings of raging fires on nearby surfaces andflammable objects.

15.Whowakes up first?:

Mal,caveat that Jane never really sleeps.

16.Whowants to stay in bed just a little longer?:

Jane.

Outsideof her room is where all her anxieties live.

17.Whosays I love you first?:

Jane,with the caveat that it was said far too fast for Mal to understand,before the incident for questions 29-30 happen.

18.Wholeaves little notes in the other’s one lunch? (Bonus: what does itusually say?):

Jane.

“

19.Whotells their family/friends about their relationship first?:

Mal,because Jane is evasive and unwilling to open up to Fairy Godmothergiven how terrible all the other times went. It was also REALLY easyfor Mal to talk to a sentient lizard in a terrarium incapable ofspeaking, and just tell her friends that she’s dating a differentAK.

Again,it’s no surprise for VKs to hear that someone’s with someone newall of a sudden, and Mal was already the precedent for dating acrossthe culture line.

20.Whatdo their family/friends think of their relationship?:

Maleficentis disappointed as usual that her daughter has been fully purified bythe Auradonians, fallen in “true love” twice, and is evenmore a disappointment to her for the rest of all of eternity.

FairyGodmother is of two minds about this, because Jane is unquestionablyhappier and more confident, but she’s also becoming muchmore daring, scandalous, and adventurous in her daily life. It’skind of like FG’s the highly conservative single mother raising agood, rule-abiding, and decent child, who is now dating a girl whowears tattoos and leather jackets with pride, frequently breaks thelaw either intentionally or as a consequence of the trouble that isattracted to her like a super-powered magnet, and smokes—both inthe “dragon fire” sense, and the “weird and wonderful world ofrecreational drugs” sense.

AsI said, the VKs are non-plussed about it: Mal has already definedherself as the kind that consorts with the AKs after her famousrelationship with Ben, and again, they haven’t really cared muchabout other people’s relationships unless it enables or preventsthem from getting what they want or need day-to-day.

TheAKs are rather surprised that Jane would be dating Mal, of allpeople, and it throws all of their preconceptions about Jane for aloop, especially once they catch word of all the new things she’sdoing with her newfound confidence and girlfriend.

“HaveI really changed? Am I being corrupted? Or was I always like this,it’s just that I always pushed this side of me away? Whatever thecase, this is who I am now, and this is who I will be for theforeseeable future, because I like this me, and if you don’t?

“Well,you can just go fuck yourself! … Oh my gosh—I’m so sorry Icursed! But yeah, my point still stands...”

21.Whois more likely to start dancing with the other?:

Inprivate, Jane.

She’salways had a habit of dancing to songs on the radio or from theinternet when she’s alone in her room and there’s really nothingbetter to do.

Inpublic,

Mal.Aside from the one that she’s always taking the lead due topersonality and the difference in heights between them, she’s theone who’s not paralyzed by the thought of so many people seeing herdo something like dancing.

“Justfocus on me, okay?” Mal says, Jane does, and the just have fun onthe dance floor.

22.Whocooks more/who is better at cooking?:

Jane.

She’shad vastly more experience, and for Mal, “cooking was never reallya thing unless you were trying to roast a rat to make it tastesomewhat better, or get rid of poisonous bits neutralized by fire.”

23.Whocomes up with cheesy pick up lines?:

Jane,surprisingly enough.

“DoI smell smoke?” is frequently used whenever she’s sending naughtySnapchats or intentionally riling Mal up.

24.Whowhispers inappropriate things in the other’s ear duringinappropriate times?:

Jane,again.

She’ssteadily becoming more daring and confident now that she realizesthat Auradon’s conservative standards are a choice, not theonly “right” way to be in this world. She’s still frequentlynervous when she does it, and it’s very rare, but HOO DAMNdoes it catch Mal off-guard.

“It’slike a tiny adorable kitten just staring up at you with big, wideeyes, and going ‘Fuck you!’ it just can’t not throw youoff!”

25.Whoneeds more assurance?:

Jane,once again.

It’swhy Mal is always there to hold her while she’s seated in her lap,remind her that she’s stronger than she thinks she is, much morethan her appearance, and that she’s always going to be there forher.

26.Whatwould be their theme song?:

“BodyImage” by Tupperware Remix Party.

“Weare as beautiful as our flaws.”

27.Whowould sing to their child back to sleep?:

Mal.

Shehas the nicer singing voice, Jane thinks, and it’s good practicefor her to start being more comfortable with the idea of openlyshowing affection and vulnerability to another person.

28.Whatdo they do when they’re away from each other?:

Malhangs out with her friends, goes to “underground” events byherself or with her VK/more adventureous AK friends, and of course,works solo on her art, her preferred past time now that she doesn’tprioritize “being Evil.”

Janeplays video games, reads, does her other hobbies like cooking andgardening, explores nature, and practices her magic discretely.

29.oneheadcanon about this OTP that breaks your heart:

Jane’sconfession to Mal was during one of their twice monthly hang-outs inher room, practicing magic on the down-low as the ban was still ineffect at the time. Since Mal gave up her spellbook after the eventsof “Rise of the Isle of the Lost,” the two have resorted to goingaround looking for scraps of spells and old magical tomes, Jane beingthe better of the two because she is used to scouring dusty, mustylibraries for something new to read, and knows exactly where shehasn’t looked before.

Janetells Mal that she stumbled upon a very interesting, high-levelspell, a rarity considering so many of them are very tightly sealed,and leaks like this (by conspiracy or accident) were a rarity. “It’sa time-stop spell: freezes the entire world except you, so you’refree to do whatever you like as long as it’s in effect.”

Janeclarifies that at their experience and power levels, neither of themcan do more than just two-four seconds of frozen time, and the effectis just on their surrounding area—say, the size of Jane’s rathersmall room—but Mal is excited nonetheless.

Malarrives that Saturday at Janes’ room. The curtains are drawn, thedoor is locked, and they make sure that the nearly deserted hallsleading to it aren’t about to have anyone even passing by anytimesoon. They crack open Jane’s copy and notes of the spell, and startreading it, deciphering the missing pieces, and how to actually castthe damn thing.

Fictionmakes magic look so easy, but the spells are actually like “one-pressapps”: a collection of numerous interlocking, smaller spells andparameters and effects that have been collected, compiled, and givenan easy “key” so the magician doesn’t need to cast every singleone of those enchantments individually.

BecauseJane was the one to find such a treasure, she gets the honour oftrying to cast it first, and she does.

Toher surprise, it works—the world is completely frozen around her,everything from her furniture, the walls and the floors, and Malherself in an odd, baby blue hue like Jane’s magic. She’sobviously giddy that she managed such a powerful spell, instinctivelytelling Mal that it worked, before she realizes that she can’treact to or do anything in her current state.

Andthen an idea pops into Jane’s mind, a fleeting thought she’d beenpushing away several times, something she’d been reminding herselfthat she could not do because of the consequences, because it was notthe Right thing to do, but kept worming its way back to Jane’s mindover and over again, persistently clawing and fighting till it’s atthe very front and unavoidable.

Shehesitates for a moment, before she darts forward and kisses Mal onthe lips.

Becauseof her unique brain structure and how fast it can process everything,all of the debating, the pushing back, and the committing to adecision takes less than a second. Moving faster than she normallydoes, pressing her lips against Mal’s takes another. Registeringand enjoying the sensation of kissing Mal—lips scarred and chappedand not quite healed, with a hardness and roughness you just didn’tfind here in sunny and upper class Auradon Prep—and of finallyfinding an answer to the question of she would enjoy it (she does)takes two.

Andwith that, the haze is sucked back into Jane in a snap, and Mal isabout to open her mouth and ask if it worked before she realizesthere’s a pair of soft andquivering lipson hers that definitelyisn’t from anyone she’s ever kissed before.

Janeslowly opens her eyes, and when they notice Mal’s looking straightback at her, they shoot wide open. She pulls back so quickly shefalls onto her back, crawls away on her hands and feet.

Malblinks. “Jane…?” she asks.

Janecan’t stop time again, not with all these alarming thoughts andpredictions for the future and realizations about the full gravity ofher mistake bearing down on her. But, with the inhuman speeds she’scapable of, she can disappear into her closet before Mal is evenaware that she’s moved.

Malblinks again. “Jane!” she cries as she scrambles up.

Janeis inside her closet, moving aside boxes, old props, and schoolprojects, before she opens up one of the secret tunnels leading outof her room, a remnant of Auradon Prep from when it was a Duke’s“summer castle” that had escaped the filling and collapsingefforts. She hears Mal banging on the door outside, she pulls openthe hatch, crawls in, and shuts it behind her just as quickly.

Malputs her foot to the door, trying to kick it down, but the solidlybuilt, ancient hardwood isn’t the rotten and pest-infested planksshe’s used to. She curses under her breath as she scours her memoryfor an unlocking spell, before she just decides to go with theeasier, more direct approach:

Boom.

Thelock flies out, and crashes to the floor with a noisy clang. Theforce of the blast knocks over much of Jane’s stuff, making itcollapse over the secret tunnel and hiding her escape. Mal runs intoher walk-in closet, looks around, and starts digging through all herbelongings, trying to find where someone like her can squeeze in.

“Jane?”Mal asks as she searches. “Jane! Jane, where are you…?”

Insidethe tunnel, Jane cowers and hides, holding her breath for as long asit takes for Mal to give up and leave, ignoring the creepy crawlies,the dust, the fungus, and what else has found its way into this longabandoned tunnel in who knows how long.

Unfortunately,there’s no ignoring the voice in her head, quietly whispering thesame words over and over again, a familiar tune from her “childhood”:

“Youfucked up, you fucked up, you fucked up...”

Malshows up the day after, knocking on her door, asking if she’s homeevery once in a while, sending her texts and attempting to call her,but Jane just holds her breath again, pretends she’s not in, turnedoff her phone so her ringtone or the vibration of it on anythingwouldn’t give her away.

Becauseof her history with numerous social anxieties, she’s allowed totake attend her classes remotely, submitting homework, make-uprecitations, and attendance activities, even if her teachersencourage her to please come back to class, and her other friendssometimes drop by with her homework and group projects, rather thansending her digital copies.

Allthey really can do is just slid it under the door, or leave itoutside, wait for Jane to have it sent to them by all manner of meansthat don’t require her to show up in person—one of Carlos’flying drone projects, discretely teleporting them into her room, orenlisting the help of woodland creatures to whisk them away for her.

Theonly time she really does leave her room is when it’s time for hermonthly dinner with Fairy Godmother, falling on a Wednesday as usual.

Asyou might expect, FG is a very busy woman, being personallyresponsible for the supervision, growth, and development of most ofthe children of most of the monarchs in Auradon, who will becomefuture Kings and Queens themselves. It hasn’t left much time forher to attend to Jane, to say the least, but she made it a point toalways have certain times of the year and out of every month tocompletely, fully devote to Jane, where nothing short of arealm-threatening disaster can take her attention away.

Asmuch as Jane appreciates the thought and the spirit of it, however,like everything with her mother, it’s a mixed bag.

“So,I heard you haven’t been showing up to your classes again...”Fairy Godmother starts after that night’s dinner has beenserved—Chinese style steamed vegetable wraps.

“...”Jane idly picks up her chopsticks, her face cast down at her plate.

“Doyou want to talk about it?” Fairy Godmother asks.

“...”Jane pauses for a moment, her chopsticks held up in the air, beforeshe shakes her head, still not looking at FG.

FairyGodmother sighs. “Jane… I’ll admit I haven’t been the bestmother to you, especially now that all your friends are teens andyou’re all going through an incredibly rough period in yourlives—and that’s without the VKs.

“Butplease, could you confide in me whatever it is that you’re goingthrough right now? I can’t magic it away like I used to, but thatdoesn’t mean I’m completely helpless to help you!”

“Yesyou are,” Jane thinks to herself, while she says “I canhandle it on my own, mom.”

FairyGodmother sighs. “There’s no shame in asking for help, you know.”

“Iknow...” Jane says as she carefully tears apart a chunk of herwrap, watching the steam pour out of the seam and the vegetablesspill out.

FairyGodmother closes her eyes, and opens them again. “I’ve said itbefore, I’ll say it again: it’s best you tackle problems as soonas you can, because they tend to get worse the longer you wait.”

Janemakes a non-committal sound as she forks it into her mouth—hermother’s cooking is delicious as always, a perk of having eternityto master her domestic skills and twenty years to go all out inpracticing it, but it’s going to take more than good food to makeall these bad feelings go away.

30.oneheadcanon about this OTP that mends it:

Saturdayonce more.

Thelock in Jane’s closet has been put back into place, the damageundone with Carlos’ help and objective, infallible knowledge of theexact look of the paint and wood so not even Fairy Godmother would beany the wiser as to what happened to it, the dislodged contents alsorearranged for good measure.

Thecurtains are open, what sunlight she gets from this secluded part ofthe castle is streaming in, all is quiet and peaceful and no one isaround for miles, just how Jane likes it.

Orrather, how she’s supposed to like it.

Whenthe time rolls around that Mal was supposed to arrive and the two ofthem would practice magic together, Jane is all too aware thatthere’s going to be none of her or that, she feels restless,uneasy, a great gnawing inside of her that just can’t be ignored,and will not be ignored.

Janeis used to discomfort, to anxiety, to worry, but this is on a wholenew level. From years and years of having to feel others emotions,and having to name them and understand them to keep herself fromgoing insane, she knows what this feeling is, the scourge of thosewho were innocent children once, the eternal bane of anyone who hasever lived, the muse of so much of the pop songs and poetry thatAuradon Kids produce:

Heartbreak.

Itonly takes her mind a split second to comprehend all of this, but ittakes her hours still to take action, wallowing in her pain, suddenlysympathetic to every single person who has ever claimed or shown thatthey simply couldn’t move on. Night falls, and whereas mostpeople’s weekend plans had either come to a close or were about tobegin, Jane has wasted this particular Saturday with the people andthe society she’s known so far in her entire existence doingnothing.

Andat the stroke of eight o’clock in the evening, she finally hasenough and takes action.

Therewill be many more Saturdays for her, for as long as reality existed,but there would be only so many Saturdays she could spend with Mal.

Sheheads out of her room, and proceeds to break a personal rule of hersand a strong suggestion of her mother by going down the halls atinhuman speed, a sudden, mysterious breeze to all she passes by untilshe goes slow enough for mortal eyes just before she reaches Mal andEvie’s door.

There’sa part of her that says that she should just keep on going, make afull circle around the campus before ending back at her room, goingdown the opposite side of the hallway she always took, but there’smuch more of her that’s tired of the inaction.

Janeknocks.

Evieanswers. She hides her surprise well, but no poker face can match themight of Faerie Empathy. “Jane! Hi! What’s up…?”

“CanI talk to Mal?” Jane replies. “It’s really important.”

Thistime, the facade breaks, if only a little. “She’s out. Probablywon’t be back until past midnight.”

“Oh.”Jane said. “Do you happen to know where she went?”

“Idon’t know exactly, but I’ll bet anything she’s goingtagging,” Evie says.

Janesmiles politely. “Thanks, Evie.” She turns to leave, Evie beginsto close the door.

“Wait!Jane!”

Janeturns around. Evie opens the door again and holds out her phone.“Carlos made a tracker app for all our phones, so we could findeach other in case of trouble,” she says as she shows her just howto access it. “It’s only got half-a-mile or so of range, but it’sbetter than nothing.”

Janesmiles as she takes it, carefully cradles it in her hand. “Thankyou, Evie. I’ll give it back later!”

“Hurryif you can!” Evie said. “I’ll have to take selfies and vlogswith my webcam till then, and there’s only so many angles and shotsyou can make with that.”

“Iwill!” Jane says, before she leaves once more, Evie’s phonecradled safely in her hands.

Shebreaks a different rule as she heads off, a much more serious onethat could land her in jail, but the Guards were not as keen ondetecting rogue magic use as they were back then, and it’s a simplematter to hide the natural gossamer glow and reflective surface ofher wings as she flies, atop the condos and the parks, past thecorporate headquarters and the shopping complexes, beyond theMcCastles and the nigh identical houses of the suburbs, to theforgotten part of Auradon City, the first district and the first everto die:

MarigoldStreet.

Sheflies over old industrial parks with rusting construction equipment,hollowed out factories with boards over the doors and windows andfences around the perimeters, and long-abandoned “affordable”housing with concrete sidewalks cracked, trees long dead if theyweren’t reduced to stumps, and community gardens overgrown andwild.

Thankfully,there are no guards or dogs here, everything of value long salvagedor rotten past usefulness, and whatever technology Carlos had used intheir trackers worked better in the air, where at least one half ofthe signal couldn’t get blocked by the all the inches-thickconcrete and steel everywhere.

Shefound Mal in the middle of spraypainting the side of a warehouse. Theelectricity grid had long decayed and been cut-off by every powercompany in the city aside, but the glow of an LED camping light letMal work and Jane see the design, several paintings in sequence:

Ababy purple dragon, walking along by happily, until it sees a prettybaby blue bowtie butterfly, stares at it in wonder, jumps up into theair, flapping its tiny little wings and hovers beside it for a fewseconds, before it crashes to the ground, right on its tiny scalyface.

Malwas in the middle of blocking out the baby dragon back on the ground,when Jane cleared her throat.

Maljumped, holding up the spraycan like it was a gun, her whole bodytensed and ready for combat, her green eyes narrowed and giving Janethe harshest glare she was capable of. They quickly widened andturned terrified as she recognized who the intruder was.

“Jane?!”Mal sputtered. “How did you--?!”

Janeheld out her hands, Evie’s phone in one of them, the screen turnedout to her. Mal looked surprised, before she slowly, reluctantlyrelaxed her pose.

“… Whatdo you want?” she asked.

“I’msorry,” Jane said. “I’m sorry I took advantage of you andkissed you while you were under the effects of that time stop spell.I know you still probably hate me and don’t want to be friends withme anymore, but I--”

Malheld up her hand. Jane stopped.

“Jane?First up, I don’t hate you for kissing me while I was frozen intime; that’s WAY far from the worst thing anyone’s ever done tome while I was helpless, nor is it something that really rings alarmbells inside my head anymore.

“Andsecond, I don’t hate you, but I do hate the fact thatyou avoided me like that. I’m the VK here, I’m the onewho’s supposed to be running away from my problems, damn it!”

Janewinces, and hangs her head. “Sorry for that. Again. I promise, nomore running—I want to make things up to you. I want us to befriends again. Or just cool with each other, if that’s as far asyou’ll let me.”

Maltakes a deep breath, and lets it go slowly. “Do you remember thewords for the spell?”

“Ido,” Jane says—it was a trivial task when you couldn’t forgetanything.

Shesays the words to Mal without the deliberate concentration, thechanneling of her magic, or the movements that made bending the lawsof reality as we knew it all the easier, rendering the incantationharmless and inert.

“Thanks,”Mal says, before she raises her hands and quickly casts it.

Whenthe world unfreezes, Jane is suddenly aware of lips pulling away fromher, their owner’s eyes closed.

Malopens her eyes again, none the wiser. “There. Now that’s a coupleof seconds of your life where you don’t know what the helljust happened.”

Janetries to hide her reaction, but she was never one for being subtle.

Malfrowns and blushes. “… Did it not work on you…?”

“Itwore off just as you pulled away...” Jane confesses.

Maltakes in a quick breath through her nose. “Well then. Shit.”

“… Doyou want to try that again—kissing, I mean? Without the time stopspells or the secrecy.”

Malshrugs, uneasy. “I dunno… do you?”

“Yes,I do… so, do you?”

Malthinks for a few seconds. “Yeah. Yeah I do.”

Sothe two of them awkwardly step up to each other, not quite sure whatto do with their hands so they just keep them at their sides as theylean in closer, closing their eyes as soon as they’re sure theirlips are aligned, and for a brief two seconds, the two of them knowwhat it’s like to kiss the hard and scarred mouth of a VK and thesoft and quivering mouth of a nervous wreck of an AK when both sideswere kissing back.

AndJane had to admit, it was way better than that stolen kisswas.

Theybreak away as they hear one of Evie’s ringtones. It’s from anumber neither of them recognize, which is as good a sign as any thatthey need to return to Auradon ASAP. They stay a while to completethe grafitti on the wall, though, with the last of the sequence ofpaintings:

Thedragon, looking sadly at the bowtie butterfly still up in the air.

Itseyes widening in surprise as the butterfly flutters down to itslevel.

Thetwo of them walking off into the distance, side by side, happy ascould be.

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yourbrotherzulu · 5 years

Text

A Woman and a Miracle

so... i just thought, I’ll give you a little context here. All y'all funky people don't even know where I am. Besides in a hammock in Peru. With a monkey.

But there is more than this monkey here. There is also the second monkey. I think they are a couple but have some beef at the moment.

There is a shaman. But he doesn’t like the word shaman.

There is a bunch of russians. They don't really smile so much. Like never.

And there is a woman. Well... THE woman. (not the monkey woman, although tecnically we’re all monkeys)

And there is of course:

A MIRACLE

(tadaaa, drums please!)

(thank you, thank you. yeah. alright.)

PART I

You see... miracles are for the truthseeker what data is for the researcher. It is evidence. Spiritual evidence (not the only one of course). Without miracles, faith is just a believe. But with miracles... faith becomes knowing. And life becomes a magic carpet ride. A magic magic carpet ride. Fireworks to the left, music to the right, signs all the way through.

And one thing becomes very clear.

That miracles actually aren't miracles. They are lawful events.

They are just the natural effects of causes set in ones inner realm. Every little thing happens according to laws. Within, without, everywhere, all the time.

If ones perspective towards reality shifts, the whole universe responses. If your perspective shifts to one that is closer to the truth, things immediately run more smoothly. If it shifts a little more, things run in flow state, meaningful coincidences happen, synchronicities, fireworks, music and shit like that. If one perspective shifts right to the center, you hit the jackpot and get a miracle that changes your life with a 180 in an instant. This is the magic of reality. If you have experienced this for a certain number of time, believing stops, knowing starts, knowing that one has a intimate relationship with the universe.

Knowing this, that the cosmos is aware, that the cosmos responds, that the cosmos cares enables one to accept its love. Knowing that you are deeply loved and having an ongoing experience of that

is the real miracle.

Living with this knowledge naturally, lawfully makes one a person touched by grace. The love you receive will overflow. The light that shines on you will reflect to anyone you come in contact with. That kind of person.

A person that perceives abundance instead of scarcity, harmony where once was chaos, beauty where once was disgust, peace where once was turmoil. It changes this persons frequency and makes them saintly, free of greed, ill-will, animosity. This person surely will act beneficial for himself and for others and thus will be someone who bears good fruits, as JC said it.

Miracles, they make one eager to learn more about the spiritual laws, and become more disciplined in their application. One wishes to uncover more and more of this treausure one has stumbled upon inside so that one day one fully realizes ones own Buddha-Nature.There is a little line, if that line is crossed one finds oneself fully in the gravitational field of the selfless Self, the One in the Many, the Soul of Souls.

Because of that, one begins to understand that there is a difference between the morality of religions and societies and the morality of the cosmos that encompasses the whole law of being-ness. One begins to understand that if one does good and contribute to the harmony, peace and happiness of our earthling-family, that includes our brothers and sisters of the animal- and plant-kingdoms as well, one gets rewarded. In the inner kingdom one experiences good vibes, good thoughts, good energy and in the outer realm of the kingdom one is blessed with good relations, harmonious circumstances and material wealth. One begins to understand the true meaning of the Kingdom, which is in fact a fractal. Understanding leads to love. Love leads to care.

And the Kingdom begins to care for one.

As a mother cares for her child.

As a master cares for his student.

As a lover cares for his beloved.

As a friend cares for his friend.

The Kingdom IS the mother, master, lover, friend for such a person.

And this is the beginning of heaven.

Just the beginning. But it changes everything.

That is the teaching. And there is a way. And that way, the beautiful Dhamma is a great jewel in each and every persons life who has come across it.

People will notice. Something is different with you. Wherever you go people will feel the natural mystic in the air. They feel there is no evil in you.

There is a Path. Attaining the Path is the first goal. And practicing it is of utmost importance.

"Practice! Practice a lot, Ananda" said the Buddha to His disciple "and you will find a master hard to find."

“Doing Good. Avoiding doing bad. Purifing oneself! This is the whole of the Dhamma” the Buddha said.

“Love! Love your neighbor as yourself and love your God with all your Heart and Strength and Might! This is the Law and the Prophets” the Christ said.

Practice! Love! Practice Loving! Love Practicing!

Until you cross the thin line and enter the stream.

Then all will be good.

Sotapana.

The Path leads to the line, merges into the stream that carries one to the ultimate.

Practice!

Morality. Mastery over the mind. Wisdom. These are the three disciplines.

...

just a sec

...

shit ran away with me a little

...

lets take a little break

...

la la la

...

intense shit, right?

hmm where were we?

lets start at the beginning...

PART II

ah ja, there were monkeys, shamans, russians (which are actually not important),there was a woman and a miracle.

And all that in the middle of the Peruvian jungle. Where else would one expect monkeys and shamans?

Ages ago, at least one lifetime, I was studying medicine back in Germany. I was quite good and managed it with surprising ease. But I was also a rebel. Ask my mother, she can tell you I already annoyed everyone in kindergarten. I was always critizising what I was doing and testing if the trench we all sit on is really suitable for the future. Many people liked it. Many didn’t. I never cared. I believed in my wings.

So I started researching other ways of healing. I believed in science. I believed in God already. I didn’t believe in religion. And I haven’t had found out yet, that science is a religion in itself. I researched, and smoked a lot of weed, I read testimonials of people who got cured of cancer in the jungles of South America, got healed by this or that ancient herb in God knows what mountain village or African bushtown. I knew people myself, who meditated their diseases away. I heard incredible stories and decided to take them seriously.

And one day I had to come and see for myself.

Now, many years later I am here. In Peru. I quit med-school long ago. I don’t need a professor anymore to teach me the reality of my body and mind. I don’t need a doctor who knows all the theories about health but looks like a bag of old potatoes. I close my eyes and meditate to see the reality of my mind and body. I open my eyes and tap into the present moment to see the reality of the world. I feel my body, use my body, stretch my body, exercise my body, fill my body with good shit, try to avoid bad shit. Try to find balance, stability, strength and ease in posture. I don’t need to study health. I need to practice it. From moment to moment

In Peru, in the remote center of Don Pepe, somewhere in the moskito-infested jungle, taking care not to kick a chicken with every step I take, I am witnessing some amazing stuff.

There is this old abuela. Yesterday I hold her sweating arm, while Pepe was treating her foot. You see, the foot is dead. I mean rotten-dead. Cut-it-off dead. Seeing-the-bones dead. The doctors wanted to amputate. Any sane person would advise this. But not Don Pepe. He was treating it. And the tissues were growing back. Every day. Little by little. The black stinking flesh is regaining color. Where there is no flesh, it is growing back. Fat. Nerve. Muscle. And this is just normal business here.

At night, when we drink Ayahuasca, I see jacked giants breaking out in tears, sobbing for their mother, facing the emotional traumas they have buried deep down in their souls and forgotten about it. At daylight I see them again. Changed. More open. Less dark. Lighter.

And although medical miracles... Not the miracle I want to share tonight.

The miracle has to do with the woman.

But I gotta go back in the days for that. Way back.

When I was studying medicine, I also fell in love with... drugs. Hamburgs techno-scene was hot, the music was fresh, the people cool. Still to this day I believe Hamburg has the dopest people of all cities on Earth. I was taken by it. The MDMA allowed me to open to others, connect in a way I never knew before. I felt as if I was part of something bigger, something beautiful. I felt beautiful myself. I was less tense. More smooth. People genuinely liked me all of a sudden. Chicks liked me. And I liked them. I loved them. I loved the music. I loved the dancing, the sweat, the sexyness. I loved the vibrations. I loved the rush. Not long until I was completely addicted to it.

I needed money. For entries. For drinks. For drugs. For more drinks.

I lied to my mother. I requested money for this or that new medical book, plastic sceleton, or whatever shit I came up with. When she stopped sending me money, because it was just too much, I had a drink with a friend of mine and the next day we bought a few hundred pills and pushed them in the clubs ourselves.

He stopped soon. He said, it destroyed the parties for him. I didn’t stop. I just started. For me it didn’t destroy the parties. It just changed the game to another level. At the beginning it was cool. It was just a side hustle, for a few minutes when I went from the dancefloor to take a piss and someone asked me for something in the bathroom. I was amazed that instead of spending a hundred bucks per night I went home with an additional hundred.

Then two hundred.

Then five hundred.

Then I realized that I can sell pills in Berlin for double the price, triple even, quadruple sometimes. In Hamburg we were family, we knew each other, we couldn’t rip each other off. But in Berlin, my hometown, nobody gave a shit.

Each friday morning, when I was finished raving in Hamburgs `”Baalsaal” I took a ride to Berlin, where I would keep on partying the weekend, to be back in university on monday morning.

In Berlin I made a thousand. Per night.

I always loved the Berghain. It was just another thing. More mature. More naked. Rough and sexy.

They had their own dealers. Not that they worked for the club, but they had their claims there. But soon I realized, they came quite late, because late is when the real party starts. But the tourists didn’t know that. And the tourists were the ones who needed shit. My shit. And I could ask any price I wanted. Because they had no fuckin’ clue. And there was nobody else anyway.

It was fuckin’ gold-rush

Before the first of the home-dealers arrived I already made 2 grand.

For what? For having a great time!

It took a few weeks and I didn’t give a shit about the dealers anymore. They knew me, they liked me, I liked them. I had my regular customers who would party every weekend and would get a line or pill for free every now and then.

Everyone knew me. Everyone knew my shit was awesome. Everyone was my friend. I felt like the coolest cat in the coolest club of the world.

I was shining. I was the sugarman. I was King-fuckin’-Kong!

And I literally had unlimited money.

And then I saw her. Sitting on a black, worn-out leather couch, between two good looking dudes.

Her face was a masterpiece. Her hair looked liked fuckin’ silk. You know, like in the commercials. Like L’oreal or something like that.

She had the vibe. Fresh. Light. And dirty at the same time, ‘cause there are only dirty people in this club.

Before I even said “Hi”, I was in love. Struck by lightning

I said I liked her face. It was a stupid line. But she liked it and smiled.

“I am Josi!” she said. And I was lost. She had me. She just needed to take it.

We talked and danced and heeell yeah

she had a groove.

A girl with a groove like that, a girl who knows how to bounce the shit out of the dancefloor, that is rare, like purple moons. They exist. I saw them. But only a few times.

Her life's goal, she said, "is just being in the Here and Now"

My God, I would have killed anyone for this woman.

I had already sold all my stuff that night and had now only eyes for her. I liked to pay for her drinks and get massive bundles of money out of my pocket. She was pushing dope herself and when she heard how much I already made that night she just couldn't believe it. Like she really didn’t believed it. Until I showed her all my money. I tried to impress her by telling her I sell dope since I was 14, which was true, but I stopped at 18 and started doing armed robberies instead.

She wasn’t focused, so I took the rest of her dope and pushed it within the next 30 minutes.

We drank so much. We snorted even more. I put two lines on the screen of my phone and she sniffed them both away with a single stroke. We laughed. The smiles in our faces wouldn't stop.

But we didn't go home with each other.

The whole week I was thinking about her. Monday, while looking into the microscope. Tuesday, while cutting of some fat of some old dead dude. Wednesday while reading stuff in the library. On Thursday Night I started my business, back in Hamburgs “Baalsaal”. On Friday Night I continued in Berghain. She wasn’t there. I should have slept afterwards. But I didn’t. Saturday Night, still without sleep, I walked like a zombie to Berghain. I had to see her.

As usual, I had shitloads of pills and powders in my bag. I always hid my stash in the bushes somewhere in walking distance to the club and would take only smaller amounts at once with me into the club, hidden in a secret pocket of my fluffy red jacket. But today wasn’t always. Today was pay-day for my sins.

I forgot to hide my shit.

When they checked my bag at the entrance, and they always check everyone, they pulled out hundreds of pills and God knows how many bags with speed.

As the police arrived, all I was thinking was

"fiNaLly...sLEep"

Not counting the countless nights I spend in cells of different police stations in Berlin, it was about to enter my second real jail-time.

My mind couldn’t process what was going on. I really couldn’t comprehend at all what was happening. Just a minute ago, I was havin’ fun, dancin’, bouncin’, makin’ cash and now... what? I mean... whaaaaat?

It was just too many drugs. Too many months, too many weekends, too many nights. At the end I took more than ten pills per night, not knowing how many lines of speed and other stuff. The stop was too abrupt. It was as if my life stopped from 200 to zero in a second and my mind just crashed through the front window and I was flying through a void without anything to tell me where the fuck is up and where is down.

The second night in prison, I took the pants of the pyjama, that they gave me, tied one nice knot around the bars and another one around my neck. When I jumped, I realized that the knot wasn't nice after all. I was sitting on my butt, hurting, thinking "fUck iT" and went to bed.

The next day I was brought to my permanent cell, and the first thing I did, as the warden stepped outside and closed the heavy door behind him, was making a really nice knot, but this time properly.

I hung a few moments from the bars, then my bodies adrenaline was having a word with me and instinctively my feet were reaching for the edge of the bed. After 7 very long seconds, they managed to get hold of it, slide it a little closer and finally stand on it.

“gODdaMn” I thought with a messy mind... “I hAve a pRoBlemmm”

On the same day, I went to the doctor, told him that I am not stable and definitely gonna kill myself in here. I told him the whole story, he seemed to be really cool. He put a red dot on my cell’s door so that the wardens would check every hour whether I was still alive and fresh or already dead and stinky.

The next day I was brought to a double cell where I would live together with an arab dude who got catched selling heroin in the subway for a wage of 50 bucks a day. He was alright. Jerking off every night like there is no tomorrow... on the top floor of our bunkbed. But otherwise he was decent..

There I was. Looking out of the window. Seeing nothin’ but walls and barbwire and grey clouds.

It was winter.

And the months passed by.

I was praying, begging, crying. I felt abandoned by God, whom I met in my first jail-time as an 18 year old. I had no hope. My lawyer told me, for sure it's gonna be a few years, especially concerning my criminal record. I couldn’t grasp my situation. Just a moment ago, I was a bright young man, studying medicine, on his way to become a childrens doctor or a surgeon or whatever, the pride of his mother... and now... in prison... because I sold drugs on dirty toilets to dirty people of whom I was the dirtiest of them all.

My mom was visiting me once a week. She developed an ulcer in her stomach due to the intense stress and worry her imprisoned child caused her. That ulcer made her breath stink like shit and when I was brought back to my cell I would cry for hours while realizing what I have done to her. Silently, without sobbing. I wasn’t alone in the cell after all.

And I knew what was I about to do to her next would kill her. But I was so done. My brain was properly fucked by tons of drugs. My life was properly fucked anyway. And God left me. I was in Satan's custody now.

There was no hope.

I waited for my cell's companion to go to a certain appointment. I planned everything carefully. I pushed everything out of reach this time. No bed, no chair, nothing. I whispered my last words: "Sorry. For everything."

And then...

I fell asleep. Right where I was standing.

And then someone gave me a heavy slap right in my face.

I must have fallen on the floor. Two big muscular men with the white dress of psychiatry-nurses where standing over me. One white man and one black man. Both of them had tattoos all over their visible skin and army-like haircuts.

"Yo!" the white man was barking at me.

"Get yourself together, fool! Get your fucking shit together. You can do this! You have the strength. Just get your fucking shit together. You’re here for a reason. Stop whining and start learning, fool!"

And I was like “whaaaat?”

Then they both took me at the collar and threw me upwards.

And I was thrown through the ceiling of my cell, even through the ceilings of the cells on top of that and through the roof and I was flying further and further up until I came to a hold around 200m above the prison, overlooking the whole district, the buildings, the cars and the tiny people that would move like ants all around. The air was crisp and birds were flying around me.

And then gravity kicked in.

"Oh shit!"

I was falling back down with an incredible speed, smashed back in my body, and woke up.

I was feeling fresh, energized and alive. There was hope after all.

For the first time in months there was a certain calmness in my mind.

I spent my days puzzling or writing love letters for all the arab inmates in my block, so that they could send them to their wifes outside, since every letter had to be in German, so that the wardens could read it before it would be sent. In return I received little jars of plum-jam or chocolates. Eating something sweet can be incredible nice in such a pale environment.

I returned to my regimen of workouts in the cell. Push-Ups and Sit-Ups. I stretched and bend.

And as my mind became clearer and clearer and more and more letters from my friends arrived I started to realized what I did on the spiritual level. You see, and I am kidding you not, I always took Jesus first miracle, when he turned water into wine into some kind of legitimation for taking drugs. But I just completely lost all measure. My friend, who stopped dealing after a few parties was wiser than me. I didn’t see clearly. I let my mind to be corrupted by greed, clouded by money. I reversed-enginereed the situation I was in and recognized, that for the last months I was only thinking about money, money, money. All day long I was calculating the numbers. How much I would spend on new supplies. How much I would earn in this club or that club and how long it would take to be really fuckin’ rich.

I read the many letters of my friends outside who were thinking of me and wishing me good luck. Before my arrest I degraded them all to mere customers. I recalled that when I met any of them I only cared about whether they need somethin for the next weekend. That was all. I didn’t hang out with them anymore if they didn’t buy stuff. I was a shell. God didn't abandon me. I abandoned him. And I didn’t even notice.

I smiled. Now I knew why I was here. Not because God stopped loving me. But because He was loving me so much, that he needed to correct me with some tough love. Because He cared, I was here. So that I can change. And become righteous once again.

A few weeks passed by and they revisited their decision whether to leave me in custody until the trial or not as it is the formal procedure in the land.

I was brought to a little court-room inside the prison.

Above the door of the room, where I would meet the judge was a triangle with an eye inside of it. And I knew God would be in there too.

The judge opened the procedure. He read my criminal records. All my arrests for fist-fights, for breaking in to cars or other stupid shit. But strangely my conviction for armed robbery was not in the list, although this was by far the heaviest crime of them all.

They had the results from the laboratory, he said. He didn’t smile.

Apparently I was selling pills the weekend I got arrested that were so heavily stretched that there was almost no real MDMA or other classified substance in any of them. The same was the case for the powders. I remembered, that on that weekend quite a few people came back to me and complained about the quality of the dope, or even wanted their money back.

You see, God works in mysterious ways. Especially when it comes to tweaking numbers. He seems to have a thing for that.

They had to let me go. The amount of substance in the drug was just too little.

Hope.

I couldn't believe it. They found at least two hundred pills and another hundred grams of speed and now they say it all was just smarties and baking powder.

What a miracle!

And still, not the miracle I want to talk about.

My mom picked me up from the prison gate. She was crying. Relieved. And disappointed of course. Realizing that she didn't know the young man in front of her who used to made her proud, who was to become a doctor, her little boy.

She made me clean up the garden. It was still freezing cold. The winter was long.

All I could think about was Josi. The angel I just met before I went to prison.

I called her. Her voice was cold. She didn't want to meet me.

And my heart fell together in itself like a ballon pierced by needle.

...

Although they gave me a lifelong ban in Berghain I managed to slip in a few times. Dancing in Panorama Bar I saw her standing with a friend on the little balcony from which one could see the whole dancefloor. She pointed towards me and I clearly heard her saying to her friend: "That's him! That’s the guy I told you about!" You see the F1-Soundsystem in that joint is quite remarkable and can erase those frequencies out of the music that are used when humans are talking with each other. This allows you to actually have conversations although the speakers are pumping sound like anything.

I knew that she knew that I was there. But when I approached her she pretended to be surprised to see me and I noticed how uncomfortable she was just talking to me.

I was desperate. So in love. And she didn't give a shit. It seemed. Some friends of mine told me she was always asking about me. I was confused. So confused. Maybe she was too... But I felt I am somehow still important to her.

Although I was not in jail anymore, I was still imprisoned.

Although I had received a little bit clarity of mind in the prison, it was all gone by now. The drugs took their toll. I had to pay my debts now. My mind was not functioning. My emotions were completely in chaos. My thoughts were dull and messy. I had problems to process language. My memory had no grip at all. All my attempts to do anything worthwhile failed. My relationships were bad. Most of my friends somehow abandoned me. I hated myself. I was a broken human being. Completely kaputt. I was staring right at it. And I just couldn't escape.

I started an apprenticeship in a carpentry workshop but I just couldn't make it work. Whatever I did, it was full of flaws, uncomplete, dirty and way too often I even damaged the work of others by accident or just mere mindlessness. I was slow, forgot too many things and noticeably wasn't mentally present. While my thinking had no power at all, the power of my emotions was way too much to handle and brought me down to my knees every day. I wouldnt pray. I would beg for mercy, whining and wailing. Especially in construction, where there is sharpness required and a lot of testosterone in the air, this emotional turmoil just completely fucked me. Every half an hour I went to the toilet to have a panic attack, to cry, to look in the mirror and saw some kind of clown I didn’t recognize. My co-workers started to talk behind my back. At first. Later they talked shit about me while I was standing right in the damn room.

I couldn't talk to friends, although there were a few who sticked with me, who were deeply worried. But I couldn’t accept their love. I couldn’t be loved.

I begged God for my death. Even for my mother to die, so that I could kill myself without hurting her.

Every free moment I was thinking about suicide. Or about Josi.

It was a Dark Night of the Soul. And a very long one.

I lived in a community then with a few people. My presence always had and still has a big impact on the atmosphere in a room. In those days for the bad. I was grumpy, frustrated with myself, alone, hopeless. The others were increasingly irritated by my presence, my moodyness, my tensions and I noticed that painfully every moment on every single day. And thus I stepped into darkness even more.

I wrote a letter. Took a kitchen knife with me. Went to the graveyard right around the corner, sat next to a tombstone, took a deep breath and was about to start the cut.

I closed my eyes.

All of a sudden I saw images. Vivid. Deep. Colorful. High Resolution. As if I would be right in them. There was an ocean, sparkling water, warm sunshine. An amazing coast. There were friends and me on a sailing boat. We were laughing. I saw myself in a nice room, playing guitar, singing. I saw myself in front of a canvass, painting, wearing torn clothes with red and green sprinkles on them. And a hat. I saw myself standing on top of a mountain. Watching the world in 360 degrees. I saw myself holding a child in my arms.

I opened my eyes.

I dropped the knife and felt hope once again that there might be a future for me, a life, in bright colors with red and green sprinkles. One day.

But for now everything was still grey.

A friend told me about a silent ten day meditation retreat. It was called “Vipassana”, she said. I had never heard about it.

And although I was always interested in meditation and yoga, I didn’t applied for the sake of meditating. All I wanted to everyone around me to shut the up for ten days. For me shutting up for ten days. For being alone. For not disturbing anyone with my mere existence.

Without that course I would be dead by now, that much I know. And now, many years later, I would go through all of it once more, just to be brought to this technique.

From the first day on afterwards, my cognition started to function again. Little by little but tangible. My emotions were still chaotic and I panicked a lot, almost every day. But whenever I remembered to apply what I have learned from Vipassana, my emotions immediately became less abstract, less overwhelming.

Emotions stripped away from there mental projections and reduced to physical sensations were something I could handle. My panick stopped being a violent rush of self-doubt, negative memories, bad projections of the future and started to be an increased heartbeat, a weird feeling in the stomach, coldness in my limbs. That was still unpleasant, but nothing that would whoop my ass.

What once were huge, dangerous monsters in my bedroom became just the shadows of a little dwarfs standing on my sideboard as soon as i switched on the light of awareness that Vipassana taught me.

I came back to life. I stretched and breathed. I meditated. I bought a guitar.

I wasn't able to write again, but I hoped... maybe one day I will have the strentgh, joy and confidence to speak once more. Maybe one day I my spirit would be strong again, so that I would dare to inspire. Maybe one day I would have a voice again.

The colors came back. One after the other.

But Josi didn't. She avoided me. Sometimes we met by coincidence. There was no affection from her at all. And I turned into a little puppy, needy for her affirmation, her confirmation that I would exist.

Back then I knew nothing about masculine or feminine energies. I didn’t know what a man was, or a woman, and that a true man or woman has always both energies in state of balance. I only knew I was in love with an angel that would rather eat glass alone then have a dinner with me.

But I kept on thinking and dreaming about her.

...

Fast forward a few years.

...

PART III

The Golden Gate Bridge was a fucking majestically thing. The bay sparkled blue and the sky was as blue as a sky can be. I loved San Francisco, especially when I could see it from my friends balcony in Oakland.

Visiting California was always on top of my bucket list.

I was feeling great that morning. I had a funny dream the night before and dreamt about Josi, what would happen every few months. After I woke up, still half asleep on the couch, I opened her Facebook page and saw that she had an Instagram account which I checked out for the first time. I saw hundreds and hundreds of professional model-photos. She made it. I was happy. At first.

It took just a few moments and I felt like a total loser. The images in my mind of her being with beautiful actors, models, fashion-creators or whatever society-shit there is, overwhelmed me. I felt small. I didn’t accomplish anything. I was just traveling the world, doing nothing worthwhile besides finding myself. While she must be quite wealthy by now, or having a rich man by her side, I had nothing to offer. The only thing I had was God, but at least the relationship between Him and I was improving for a while now.

Something inside of me wouldn’t have it. Something inside me wouldn’t crawl back under the blanket and feel sorry for myself. If she can pursue her dreams, than I could do the same thing.

I made myself a nice coffee, lit up a cigarette, booted my laptop and did something I haven’t done for years.

I wrote.

Nothing long. Nothing good even. But at least something.

I found my mind back years ago. My Heart some months ago while in India.

But my passion I found back that very morning.

I felt grateful. I enjoyed my life. Very much. But not to be able to write was always tormenting me in the back of my mind.

I stepped outside into a beautiful sunny day and decided to contact Josi after so many years. A textmessage wouldn’t be good. It needed to be something more personal. So I made a video for her and expressed my gratefulness for the Inspiration I received from seeing her following her dream. I believe to this day, that this is the best way to help others. By living oneself to fullest. Living life like it’s golden. I sent the video. Stepped into my car. And drove north where I would sit my second Vipassana-course, 5 years after my first one.

And again it completely changed my life.

That course, I realized already on the third day, would be one of the most important events in my life. I had a certain experience that is called "Bhangha". A complete dissolution of a solidified area next to my spine. I had a pain there that tormented me for two years. It couldn’t got cured by doctors, chiropractors or yoga-asanas. Vipassana is a pali-word, the language spoken by the Buddha and means as much as seeing things as they are. And by exactly doing this, observing the painful sensations, aware and equanimously... it just melted. It was as if I threw a tablet into a glas of water and what was a solid peace at first just bubbled away. That happened to other solidified spots too. I felt opened energy lines, the nadis, vibrating throughout my body. Sometimes it was as if it was raining the other way round, that thousand of tiny drops would leave my back and ascend to the sky. Bhangha!

Bhangha. One the most important and at the same time most dangerous experiences for a meditator. A milestone. That is why it is called little stream-entry. It shows one the true power of the technique, and thus one realizes what’s gonna happen if one continues with it. It shatters one’s view of the reality of ones own mind-body phenomenon. Naga-Rupa. And it is probably the most pleasant experience ever. Even if it just occurs partially, as it did to me. This amazing pleasantness itself and the simultaneously happening dissolution of unpleasant pains... that is why it is not only one of the most important experiences but also one of the most dangerous. They warn you! You can meditate wrong! You can create new impurities and tensions if you develop cravings for the sensations of it or for the progress that it seems to be! But somehow, during that retreat I didn’t hear that. I would pay a price for that. Much later.

In that retreat, I had a few openings of the third eye as well. I saw the structures and the fractals of the cosmos, the blueprint of creation, of myself, of God. I received the second represantion of the meaning of the Kingdom. But besides that it was just spectacular. I was thinking about fire and BOUM was sitting right in front of a camp-fire, feeling the warmth, hearing the crackles, seeing the vivid red and orange of the flames. I was thinking about water and BOUM was standing naked right in a waterfall, feeling the fresh cold, hearing the splashes, seeing the vivid blue and turquoise of the water. I saw a whole bunch of other stuff too, archetypes, galaxies, battles in outer space, even Darth Vader coming out of a solidified sensation with a laser-sword. It was a trip. But although definitely induced by my brains own DMT (the way things look are just too unique) it was much more controlable, integratable and memorizable then smoking the shit.

When the course was over there was not a trace of doubt left, that I hit the jackpot with this technique. I studied in the years before many spiritual ways, healing techniques, philosophies and will always practice the eight limbs of Yoga. But this technique, taught and applied by the Buddha himself, was the only one I have encountered, that would lead to full Enlightenment. As it did for himself and for so many others after him.

I was heavily meditated. Calm, clear and confident.

When I activated my phone there was no reply to the message I sent to Josi though.

But I knew in that moment, probably for the first time in my life, that regardless if I see her ever again, I will be happy. This knowing was on a very deep level and increased my peace even more. I knew it didn’t matter at all what happened. What I did with either way, was what mattered.

You see. A miracle is not just the effect. The cause is what really counts. And the cause is always a change in one’s perspective. That is the true miracle. Whatever happens in the outside then, is merely a confirmation that one’s view has been corrected. And that the cosmos is very well aware. This awareness of the cosmos, it's responsiveness and care for the issues of it's inhabitants... this is what I call God.

When I took my phone the next time, there was a little red dot with the number one inside in the corner of the app. I received a message. It was Josi.

The next day came another one. We texted back and forth. I didn’t feel like a puppy anymore. But I felt like it's christmas everyday, with every message I received. When she switched to voice messages, and I could listen to her voice once again, my face consisted only of a big fat smile all day long.

We didn’t manage to have a call though. There was the time-difference between California and Berlin and since I was staying in a house of a ganjafarmer far out in the californian nowhere I had only a very shitty connection. If at all.

Then... suddenly... the last message ended with...

"I just can't live anymore"

And then nothing more. Internet was gone again. I was freaking out. Whatthefuck? Whatthefuck? Whatthefuckisgoingon?

I drove to the next city. Called her.

She told me that she was very sick. That the many years of drugs took their toll. That she continued long after I was out and took some heavy shit. Her mind was broken. She only had fake friends, that stole all her money. She was alone. Therapies didn’t help. She didn’t had hope.

...

"Then join me to Peru!" I said.

It took her a few days, but then

..she agreed.

I couldn't believe it. I would have traveled around the globe to see her once again. Just one more time. And now she would. Not to see me maybe, but to find healing, but nonetheless we would finally meet.

I find it always astonishing. In the moment were you stop craving for your dreams to come true, when you allow the universe to work, what once was chased for so long just turns around and knocks on the door. Although with a bitter by-taste this time. But broken things can be repaired, so not too bitter.

Worry not about what you shall eat, or what you shall wear, where you shall live. Your heavenly Father knows what you need. Worry only about the Kingdom and everything else will be given to you.

In thee days she comes.

And that is the miracle.

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