scatter material

anonymous asked:

I hear the term "weights" often in heathen circles. I know little more than that they are land-spirits. I would like to learn more about them and how they were honored and their place in old nordic practices. I thought you might be willing to share some of what you know, or some resources you recommend I explore? If it's not a hassle.

Sæll (eða sæl) vinur,
(Hello friend,)

No question is ever a hassle, my friend. I am more than happy to share my knowledge regarding vættir (nature spirits). Not all vættir are land sprits, though, for those are often referred to as landvættir. Still, vættir of the land seem to be the most common and most often interacted with, so I will focus our discussion on them specifically. To be honest, they are a particularly favorite subject of mine! I wrote a lot, so I am structuring this answer as an essay, which I hope you do not mind. It should help to organize the content!

On Landvættir: An Exploration of Primary Source Examples and Suggestions for Further Reading.

It is not surprising that we know fairly little about them, because they are quite elusive in our surviving texts. This is mainly because they are not always referred to directly being ‘landvættir’, but rather are referred to indirectly. The landvættir, from what I know of them, do not even appear in our eddic sources, but perhaps indirectly and vaguely, if they do. I also do suppose some people align the landvættir with the álfar (elves), which is reasonable. If this is done, they do appear in eddic material, in a way. Yet, even so, they still remain quite vague even in those sources. In the end, references to the landvættir seem to mostly be hidden gems scattered throughout other materials, such as Landnámabók (Book of Settlements) and the Íslendingasögur (Sagas of the Icelanders).

What are ‘Vættir’?

It is good to begin with solid footing, so let’s begin with a bit of an introduction to what a vættr (weight, or nature sprint) is:

“There were various kinds of nature spirits that the Icelanders (and other Scandinavians) believed in, and sometimes gave sacrifices to. There are early references to elves (álfar) in mainland Scandinavia. Like their modern-day equivalents, the “hidden people” (and expression used in both Norway and Iceland), these would have been of human size. Even close to nature were the guardian spirits of the land, or landvættir which inhabited the landscape. The welfare of the inhabitants of the country depended on their welfare and support, as can be seen in Egil’s Saga, ch. 58, when Egil raises a scorn-pole (níð) facing the guardian spirits of Norway. According to Ulfljot’s Law, people approaching Iceland by sea had to remove the dragon-heads from the prows of their ships to avoid frightening the guardian spirits.”(1.)

From that, we can gather a few things: that there are many more types of vættir than just those who inhabit the land (although those will be the ones I mostly focus on in this discussion), that there is a long, evolving tradition surrounding them that lasts even into current times, and that they held considerable influence over the lands they inhabited, and even over the people who lived in those lands.

The Landvættir Today (Iceland):

Speaking of modern-day representations, the landvættir live on in Iceland’s coat of arms (a dragon, a bird, a bull, and a mountain giant):

Their story is told in Snorri Sturluson’s Heimskringla, or more precisely in The Saga of Olaf Tryggvason contained therein:

“King Haraldr (as in Bluetooth, the son of Gorm) told a man skilled in magic to go in changed shape to Iceland and  find out what he could tell the king. He went in the form of a whale. And when he came to the land, he went westwards round the north of the country. He saw that all the mountains and hills were full of land-spirits (landvættir), some large and some small. And when he came opposite Vápnafjǫrðr, then he went into the fjord and was going to go ashore. Then there went down along the valley a great dragon, and with it many snakes, toads and vipers, and spat poison on him. And he swam away and westwards along the coast, right up to Eyjafjǫrðr. He went in along that fjord. There a bird went against him, so large that its wings reached out to the mountains on both sides, and a multitude of other birds both large and small. He went away from there and westwards round the coast and so south to Breiðifjǫrðr and made to go into that fjord. There a huge bull went against him and waded out into the sea and began to bellow horribly. A multitude of land-spirits came with it. He went away from there and southwards round Reykjanes and tried to go up onto Víkarsskeið. There a mountain giant came against him with an iron staff in his hand, and his head rose higher than the mountains, and many other giants with him. From there he went eastwards along the whole length of the coast.”(2.)

Thus, these landvættir have a long history, stetting far back into at least the medieval period. From this example, we can tell that they were very powerful. Not only that, though, but that the land was “full of landvættir.” Yet, this example shows their menacing power to outsiders, but what about those living among them? For this, we shall turn to the Landnámabók.

Examples from Landnámabók:

Iceland seems to have provided us with the unique opportunity of gaining some minor insights into how native settlers treated the landvættir. Below are three examples of three different settlers interacting with these spirits:

Bjorn Gnupsson (Hafr-Bjorn):

“One night Bjorn dreamed that a cliff-giant came and offered him partnership, and that he accepted the offer. Afterwards a strange billy-goat came to join his herd of goats, and his livestock began to multiply so fast that soon he was a wealthy man. After that he was called Hafr-Bjorn (Goat-Bjorn). People with second sight could see that all the guardian spirits of the land accompanied him when he attended the Althing, and Thorstein and Thord (his brothers) when they went out fishing.”(3.)

In this example, Hafr-Bjorn befriends a landvættr that is referred to as a cliff-giant, or, in some other versions I believe, as a cliff or rock-dweller. He was actually offered this friendship from the landvættr itself in a dream, which demonstrates a possible method for communication with a landvættr. Furthermore, this example reveals the benefits to such a relationship, which was usually prosperity in land-related activities, such as the raising of livestock and fishing. Hafr-Bjorn and his brothers must have treated these spirits with great respect to have earned their friendship, and the benefits of such relations are clearly worthwhile. Also, this example shows us that seeing the landvættir required a special skill, or “second sight,” so not everyone could nor can see these spirits.

Olvir Eysteinsson:

“Olvir Eysteinsson took possession of land east of Grims River where no one had dared to settle for fear of land-spirits, since Hjorleif was killed there.” (4.)

Hjorleif was a blot-brother of Ingolf’s, the alleged first settler of Iceland.(5.) He was killed by a another man’s (Dufthak) slaves while looking for a bear in the woods.(6.) Yet, it was also mentioned earlier that he “would never sacrifice to the gods.”(7.) Regardless, his death laid a bad omen across that land, which is felt even when, many years later, a settler named Olvir comes along (as told above). This example, although short, demonstrates even the native fear of the power that the landvættir held, and that if their land was disrespected, it would likely not result in peaceful times for the settlers living there.

Thorstein Red-Nose (son of Hrolf Red-Beard):

“Thorstein Red-Nose was a great sacrificer. He used to make sacrifices to the waterfall and all the left-overs had to be thrown into it. He could see clearly into the future. Thorstein had all his sheep counted and they numbered 2400; after that they all jumped over the wall of the fold. Thorstein had so many sheep because each autumn he could see which of the sheep were doomed to die, and he had those slaughtered. That’s why he always had so many. The last autumn of his life, he said at the sheep-fold, ‘Now you can slaughter any of the sheep you life. Either I’m doomed to die or the sheep are doomed, or all of us are.’ The night he died, all the sheep got swept into the waterfall by a gale.”(8.)

This example is fascinating, because we kind of must piece things together to truly get the depth behind it. Thorstein was sacrificing the a landvættr that lived in a waterfall. It seems that this landvættr granted him this ability of foresight to enhance his skill in maintaining his sheep. I find this to be the case because, at the end of this example, the sheep are ‘returned’ to the waterfall once Thorstein passes away, therefore connecting the sheep to the waterfall through Thorstein. Once he was gone, the connection was broken and the landvættr took what was rightfully its.

All of these examples serve to demonstrate the various aspects of the landvættir that you asked about. They were honored much like the gods themselves were, it seems, although suitable information to ‘prove’ this is still to be desired. They either came to you in a dream, like one did with Hafr-Bjorn, or they would be won over through generous sacrifice, as was seen with Thorstein. They were respected and given appreciation to keep them in good spirits. After all, when angered or ignored, they could cause fear, as seen with the case of Olvir, or even destructive and threatening, as seen in the Saga of Olaf Tryggvason.

Examples from Icelandic Sagas and Tales:

If Landnámabók was not quite satisfying enough, there are still a few examples to be explored from Egil’s Saga and The Tale of Thorvald the Far-Travelled. For those reading this that are already well-read, it may seem odd for me to be leaving out Bard’s Saga. That example deals with vættir-related subject matter intensively, and I would rather recommend that as a full reading than except it as an example on this post, so I will return to Bard momentarily.

Egil’s Saga, chapter 58:

“He (Egil) took a hazel pole in his hand and went to the edge of a rock facing inland. Then he took a horse’s head and put it on the end of the pole.

Afterwards he made an invocation, saying, ‘Here I set up this scorn-pole (nið) and turn its scorn upon King Eirik and Queen Gunnhild’ - then turned the horse’s head to face land - ‘and I turn its scorn upon the nature spirits (vættir) that inhabit this land, sending them all astray so that none of them shall find its resting-place by chance or design until they have driven King Eirik and Gunnhild from this land.’

Then he drove the pole into a cleft in the rock and left it to stand there. He turned the head towards the land and carved the whole invocation in runes on the pole.”(9.)

In this example, we can see that people can actually ‘control’ the wrath of vættir, and they can even turn this wrath onto others, if they are skilled enough. Yet, in the case of Egil, he was wronged, and so he had right on his side (see footnote 9 for detail). Perhaps, then, vættir have a sense of justice even. Nonetheless, I suppose this is a sort of ritual, in which one would target their enemies with strong words, runes, and insulting imagery. Yet, it does hint that the vættir did play a social function as well. This was already indicated by the landvættir, who often protect the land and the people who dwell there, if they have a good relationship with them, of course. Thus, vættir can either protect people or attack them, depending on their relationship with the user and his or her skill.

Thorvald the Far-Travelled, chapter 3:

In this example, the ‘theme’ of a vættr is used very strategically by the author, so we must take caution in how we read this source. In the quote below, Thorvald talks with his father, Kodran, about converting to Christianity. Kodran responds (at first) by telling Thorvald that he has a ‘prophet’ who lives in some nearby stone, and that this prophet helps him in many ways. The author treats this prophet as a demon, although it seems that this figure is being built upon the tradition of the vættir.

“ ‘But I have another prophet of my own, who is very beneficial to me. He tells me many things which have not yet come to be. He takes care of my cattle, and reminds me what I should do and what I should avoid. That is why I have great faith in him and have worshipped him for a long time, but you are your prophet (a bishop named Fridrek) and your religion disparage him a great deal, and he dissuades me from making any agreements with you, and especially from taking your faith.’

‘Where does your prophet live?’ asked Thorvald.

‘He lives here, close by my farm,’ said Kodran, ‘in a large and imposing stone.’

Thorvald asked how long he had been living there.

Kodran said he had lived there for a long time.”(10.)

A few things should sound familiar by now. This is a landvættr, for he dwells within a stone. It also seems that we can conclude that landvættir are prophetic, because both here and with Thorstein Red-Nose in Landnámabók. The landvættir also tend to earthly things, such as livestock and farms, as we have seen with Hafr-Bjorn (goats), Thorstein Red-Nose (sheep), and now here with Kodran (cattle). The ‘prophet’ is also very old, which would not be surprising for a landvættr. Thus, it is not unreasonable to notice the connection here with landvættir, even though this tale never explicitly uses the term, which brings back a point made earlier that references to landvættir are like hidden gems scattered throughout our sources.

Recommendations for Further Reading:

It may be troublesome to randomly read sagas and tales with the hopes of stumbling upon one of these gems. Of course, I have already named a few that touch on the topic, but they are generally centered around other ideas and motives. If you want the short-cut method (other than just reading this post), I highly recommend you take a look into this source:

H.R. Ellis Davis, Myths and Symbols in Pagan Europe: Early Scandinavian and Celtic Religions(Syracuse University Press, 1989). 

This book would be the best way to learn about the material from a reliable place, and without scavenging the primary source material for information. Google has an eBook version that contains a preview, if you would like to check that out before purchasing. For the most direct information on landvættir, I recommend special attention be given to pages 102 through 133. In fact, I tried to make use of the examples discussed in her book as well, so that, if you choose to read it, things should be more familiar to you already. The whole book seems to be quite the gem, though, so you may be interested in that text for other purposes as well.

Regarding primary sources, you can investigate any of the sources I covered in this post by looking at the relevant footnotes. I will say, though, that I have mostly pulled what is relevant from the sources that you would have easy access to. For example, I would hate to recommend Egil’s Saga just for you to only have that portion of chapter 58 to read about regarding landvættir.

As I mentioned briefly before, I do highly recommend a complete reading of Bard’s Saga, although it may be difficult to acquire the text. I have done research on what English translations are available for all the Icelandic sagas and tales (you can see that information on this post), and, in this endeavor, I found that Bard’s Saga seems to only be reasonably accessible (in English) via this book: 

Ralph O’Connor, Icelandic Histories & Romances. (Tempus, 2004).

If you have trouble, don’t hesitate to let me know, because I would be more than happy to try to help you find a way to read that saga.


So, in the end, what have we learned?

  • Vættir are nature spirits, and people often sacrificed to them. Many of these vættir were called landvættir, but only those who lived in features of the land, such as waterfalls or large stones.
  • Landvættir (at least) can be in the form of animals, so they do not always take a human form.
  • Vættir could be friendly, but they could also be spiteful when angered, ignored, or disrespected.
  • Some landvættir protected entire regions or countries, whereas others protected local farmsteads. Sometimes they did not protect for the sake of humanity, but for themselves, and so if you are not on friendly terms with them, they will likely cause you great trouble.
  • Many people gave offerings to the landvættir to build a stronger relationship with them and the land. These offerings were not always material, but could also be offerings of respect and recognition, because some landvættir became friendly with people without the need for a formal sacrifice. Sometimes they would come to people in dreams, but only if they wished to.
  • A landvættr could offer a friend many gifts, but mostly prosperity in regards to the raising of livestock, in farming, and even in advice. Another frequent gift they would offer would be the gift of prophecy or foresight.
  • The vættir could be ‘manipulated’ in such a way to incite trouble for a foe, although this seems to require careful skill, for the user would not wish to disrespect the vættir him- or herself, lest they wish to incur their wrath. Yet, this could also be due to good relations.
  • Not everyone could see vættir, for this required a special ability referred to as “second-sight.”
  • Despite not holding a prominent place in Eddic material, other sources suggest that the vættir placed a very central and regional role within the confines of Norse heathenism, and even beyond. Many of the practices told above would ahem been a part of daily life, and can best be summed up as a deep respect, and sometimes fear, of the power of nature.
  • The tradition surrounding the vættir has lived on for quite a long time, existing likely even before Iceland was settled. The vættir still live on today in folklore and in national images such as Iceland’s coat of arms.

Seems like we have learned quite a bit! Of course, this is perhaps only just the surface of the complexity that surrounds the vættir, but it is still quite rich and rewarding. Besides, I have only discussed examples from Iceland. Nonetheless, I do hope that you and others benefit from this post, despite its possibly daunting length. Feel free to reach out to me in the future if the need arises. I am always happy to discuss these things!

Með vinsemd og virðingu,
(With friendliness and respect,)


1. Viðar Hreinsson, Reference Section: Glossary, in The Complete Sagas of Icelanders: Including 49 Tales, Vol. V, edited by Viðar Hreinsson, Robert Cook, Terry Gunnell, Keneva Kunz, and Bernard Scudder, (Reykjavík: Leifur Eiríksson Publishing, 1997), 413.

Fig.1. Coat of Arms of Iceland, Wikimedia Commons.

2. Snorri Struluson, The Saga of Olaf Tryggvason, in Heimskringla, Vol. I, translated by Alison Finlay and Anthony Faulkes. (Viking Society for Northern Research: University College London, 2016), 168. (Chapter 33)

3. Hermann Pálsson and Paul Edwards trans., The Book of Settlements: Landnámabók. (repr., 1972; Manitoba: University of Manitoba Press, 2012), 125. (Chapter 329, Sturlubók)

4. Ibid., 126. (Chapter 330, Sturlubók)

5. Ari Thorgilsson, The Book of the Icelanders: Íslendingabók, translated by Siân Grønlie. (Viking Society for Northern Research: University College London, 2006), 4.

“It is said with accuracy that a Norwegian called Ingólfr travelled from there [Norway] to Iceland for the first time when Haraldr the Fine-Haired was sixteen years old, and a second time a few years later; he settled in the south in Reykjarvík.”

6. Pálsson trans., The Book of Settlements, 20. (Chapter 8, Sturlubók)

7. Ibid., 19. (Chapter 7, Sturlubók)

8. Ibid., 134. (Chapter 329, Sturlubók)

9. Bernard Scudder trans., Egil’s Saga, in The Complete Sagas of Icelanders: Including 49 Tales, Vol. I, edited by Viðar Hreinsson, Robert Cook, Terry Gunnell, Keneva Kunz, and Bernard Scudder, (Reykjavík: Leifur Eiríksson Publishing, 1997), 114. (Chapter 58) I recommend referring to the Penguin edition (page 119), due to the expense of the version I have used in writing this post.

I actually stubbled upon another bit of information, a poem this time, contained earlier in this chapter (Verse 29, page 110. Penguin: page 114). This actually explains why Egil did not incur the wrath of the landvættir, because he had right on his side. Think of it as a treat for actually reading these footnotes:

“Land spirit, the law-breaker        – (‘land spirit’ appears here as ‘landalfr’).
has forced me to travel 
far and wide; his bride deceives
the man who slew his brothers.
Grim-tempered Gunnhild must pay
for driving me from this land.
In my youth, I was quick to conquer
hesitation and avenge treachery.”

10. John Porter trans., The Tale of Thorvald the Far-Travelled, in The Complete Sagas of Icelanders: Including 49 Tales, vol. V, edited by Viðar Hreinsson, Robert Cook, Terry Gunnell, Keneva Kunz, and Bernard Scudder, (Reykjavík: Leifur Eiríksson Publishing, 1997), 360. (Chapter 3)

anonymous asked:


 Based off of #4 prompt found here

Shawn Master List found HERE

Again, this is short, don’t hate me. I don’t have any ideas to make these blurbs longer. I am trying. :) Xx 

Invitations, flowers, dresses, sizes, colours, locations, pictures, and so many questions that do not have answers, not to mention the China patterns or the foods.

To say the least, you are getting close to that line of going insane due to your wedding preparation. 

The living room is currently scattered with bridal pieces, magazines, flower arrangement schemes, pictures— half a seating chart is spread across your glass coffee table, and to say the least, you are submerged. There is so much to do.

You spread your fingers through your hair for the hundredth time this evening, your eyes gazing at the seating arrangement as you bite your lip, getting even more frustrated with every passing moment.

You look towards Shawn as he is perched in his chair, his attention focused on the movie playing and the phone in his hand, you let out a sigh to grasp his attention. 

He flickers his eyes towards you, waiting for you to speak.

You rub your forehead before letting out another heavy exhalation, “Do you want to help? Because I am seconds away from crying in self-pity.” You exaggerate, gesturing towards the mayhem around you. Without much thought he nods, getting off the couch, moving closer to you, waiting for you to give him guidance on what he needs to do.

You let out an exhalation, trying to think of the right request to ask of him, something that he wont be completely bored by. You have no idea what he would want to do, you doubt he gives a damn about the flower arrangements or what plates the food is served on at the reception. You stare at the mess of the wedding scattered around you, your eyebrows furrowing with frustration.

Your heart skips a beat as his hand reaches and moves one of the arrangments on the table, a hiss coming from your mouth, his eyes immediately glancing over at you.

“Did Did you just hiss at me?” He raises a brow, moving what he moved back to its original position where you had left it.

Keep reading

Prom is Better With Three

Dedicated to the amazing @franuary who is always there to fangirl over all things TRC and who helped come up with prom ideas! 

[For the sake of this story, please imagine that there was an extra week between the toga party and the rest of the events in The Raven King. FYI this post is about 4200 words and is fluff to the max.]

It was spring. The woods and fields were waking up, trees were budding, flowers were blooming, and the prom committee at Mountain View was in high gear preparing for this year’s extravaganza. Blue had been ignoring the ticket table that was set up in the cafeteria, the glittery posters that covered the walls and doors, the high-pitched gossip of who had asked who and who had been rejected. Prom had never been on her radar and with all her raven boy drama she simply did not have the patience or energy for it. In less than a month Gansey would be dead. Blue hardened her heart against the thought.

Blue had been studiously ignoring the rest of her classmates on that fateful day when both Henry and Gansey had deigned to call on her at school, but there was no ignoring the scandal that she encountered when she returned to school the next day. She was accosted by demands and insinuations: who were those boys? was she sleeping with both of him? It was embarrassing and awful and Blue was reminded yet again of why she had chosen her Raven Boys over her classmates.

What Blue did not expect was Gansey and Henry coming to see her at Nino’s during her shift that evening. She was feeling worn around the edges, still smarting from some of the particularly harsh things that had been said about her. At first she thought that Gansey and Henry had been able to sense her distress and had come to apologize for upsetting her social status quo. But no. They had come to ask her to prom.

Keep reading

I did a thing...

I know it’s a week until Acowar, but I can’t wait any longer for my nessian fix, so I may have went ahead and wrote the beginnings of my own…

This is my first Acotar fic.  (So far…)

Six pages and just over 2500 words. SFW

Summary: Picks off right after the ending of Acomaf, and Nesta, sick and tired of being stuck in the cabin, demands to go see Velaris. Mor relents, but first they stop by a familiar townhouse…with some familiar winged faes.


Keep reading

Baby Mine, Part II

The Muse wants more baby Evelyn and she shall have it.  Unedited and fluff filled.

Baby Mine, Part II

Rating - G

“How is she?” Emma calls over her shoulder, hands raised and magic sparking white along her fingertips.  Killian stands behind her, baby girl in the crook of one arm, his hooked arm held at the ready.  

“The lass is fast asleep,” he chuckles behind Emma and she rolls her eyes.  She’d never been one to sleep through much as a child, always on the ready for any danger to her small self, but Evie, oh no…it’s like she’d inherited her grandparents sleeping curse - she can sleep through anything.  Including giant trolls like the one currently harassing Storybrooke.

Keep reading

Scarfe: “Here’s your tea, Iron Fist– lemon, no milk, no sugar, right?”

Danny: “As right as it’ll ever be, Lieutenant Scarfe. Though I’m beginning to wonder if this foul concoction even contains real water.”

[Iron Fist vol. 1 #8 by Chris Claremont, John Byrne, and Dan Adkins]

    Poor Danny.

    It’s the tiny details like these– the subtle set dressings and character quirks from the source material scattered into the background of the story– that really make these shows for us. They’re not even really “easter eggs”. They’re just fun, geeky reassurances that the writers have done their research.


Your head pop out from behind the shelves when you heard someone entering your workplace. You were met with bright eyes and curly hair of Rami Malek.

‘And what happened this time?’ you crossed your arms.

‘Jewels don’t want to stay in place’. Rami approached the table with needles and materials scattered around. You raised your eyebrow. ‘It’s not my fault. It’s just this costume is not prepared for my dramatic acting.’

‘Tragic’ you smiled

‘Right? How can I work in this conditions?’ Rami sighed, dramatically rolling his eyes. He looked down when he heard your laugh.

Your skilfull fingers connected broken pieces of his costumes. ‘Here you go. It should stay in place if you stop messing with it’

‘I would never…’ the actor started but stopped when he saw your playful glare.

‘You know if you like spending time with me you should just say.’ you teased returning back to your work. Even though you meant it as a joke you couldn’t stop your heart to flutter at the thought that maybe there’s some truth in it.

And if you would have turned around just then you would have seen two eyes looking at you adoringly and small smile ghosting actors lips.

gif 1 gif 2

How you met - Joji Miller

A/N: first up it’s your boy, Joji! Don’t fret, the others are coming soon. ‘something’-text between single quotation marks are representing your thoughts. Enjoy!


For the first time in a long period of time, it was sunny outside and you, tired of the gloomy and rainy weather, decided to take advantage of the warmth and study in a more natural environment other than the library. Putting on some nice and comfy clothes on, you walked to the nearest park, carrying all your stuff in a backpack. There weren’t many people there to disturb you, luckily, so you pick the best spot you could find: at a table under the shade, where you could scatter all your materials on. You waste no time in actually getting your shit together and started reading, determined to make some progress today to compensate for all the times you procrastinated. Having finals sucked and studying for them killed you, but it’s not like you had a choice in the first place. You didn’t want to fail, but you didn’t care about having top grades either way. You only needed to pass, that was all.

Keep reading

Just Starshipping Things

- Whenever Yusei is stuck working on a project and he refuses to stop regardless of lack of sleep, food or basic human hygiene, Judai will hide Yusei’s tools from him in an attempt to get him to leave the garage

- When Judai is sick he’s one of the most whiny boys you’ll ever meet. Yusei is okay with this and will selflessly give and do anything to help his lover during such a trying time When Yusei is sick Judai tries his best to help the mechanic and he even uses his own remedies he’s created while he was traveling the world

- Neither of them get much sleep. Judai can be up for days sometimes due to nightmares or just restlessness but when he does sleep, you can’t seem to wake him up. Yusei on the other hand, is constantly working and will forget to go to bed at times

- Yusei sleeps on the right side and Judai sleeps on the left

- Yusei typically is the neater one around the house, save his garage that has tools and materials scattered everywhere. Judai is a walking tornado and leaves a trail wherever he goes

- Judai doesn’t work much so most of their income is made by Yusei

- Judai plays more video games than Yusei. much more, but the mechanic will kick anyone’s ass at Mario Kart

- Judai is lactose intollerant and Yusei is allergic to peanuts so grocery shopping is always a pain

- Judai is completely detached from his phone, so much he often forgets it at home when he leaves and he loses it constantly. It doesn’t help that he has it on silent most of the time. Yusei however is the type of man who plays Neko Atsume and keeps his phone near him just in case there is an emergency in the lab or one of his friends needs help. It can annoy him that Judai loses his phone so often

- When Judai is up late at night due to nightmares about the past, Yusei will stay up with him and try to distract him in any way he can. Talking about the newest cards released or talking about teaching Judai to ride a D-Wheel are for sure ways to get the brunette to calm down


Jefferson x Reader (yes this isn’t marvel but I love once upon a time and the mad hatter so fight me)

Requested by @arianaamaris :  Hey again, so I came up with a fantastic idea for that Jefferson Imagine, if you don’t mind. So basically reader is close friends with Jefferson. Then one day reader sees a hat and is curious but then gets sucked into it and appears in Wonderland. Jefferson gets back to the house when he notices the hat on the ground and goes to look for reader. He really like the reader and maybe when he finds reader he says “I just couldn’t live without you.” Sorry if it’s long. Hope you like it!!

Word Count: 1,617

Authors Note: I’m back guys :) my exam is over and I can finally return to writing (which I have missed dearly) @ariannamaris , thank your for requesting this! I had fun with it and it was nice prompt to get back into writing with :) 

You looked out the window and watched the rain patter against the window. It was yet another dreary day in Storybrooke, and so you decided to spend the day with Jefferson at his mansion. He always prepared for your arrival, making sure that a fire was blazing in the fireplace and that he had tea ready for you to drink. He was currently in the kitchen, boiling the second pot of the day. The sound of his feet hitting the ground snapped you out of your trance.  

Keep reading

…These writers on public affairs begin by supposing that people have within themselves no means of discernment; no motivation to action. The writers assume that people are inert matter, passive particles, motionless atoms, at best a kind of vegetation indifferent to its own manner of existence. They assume that people are susceptible to being shaped—by the will and hand of another person—into an infinite variety of forms, more or less symmetrical, artistic, and perfected.

Moreover, not one of these writers on governmental affairs hesitates to imagine that he himself—under the title of organizer, discoverer, legislator, or founder—is this will and hand, this universal motivating force, this creative power whose sublime mission is to mold these scattered materials—persons—into a society.

—   Frédéric Bastiat (1801-1850) French Classical Liberal Theorist 

ravagersred  asked:


send me symbols to learn more about my muse

H A P P Y   M E M O R Y  x2

One of Rocket’s earliest happy memories is unsurprisingly of Groot. When he first crashed upon Planet X, and first met the flora colossus, he was treated with a proclamation of the tree’s name, which he didn’t understand to be anything other than that, much as Quill hadn’t when they first met. As time went on, he could piece together what certain forms of the same sentence meant, and just before his recapture by his creators, he learned how the tree communicated. 

To thank his new friend for being so patient, he made the best shelter he could of scattered materials, which unfortunately fell apart in a sudden rainstorm. Devastated, and positive that his new friend would be disappointed as well, he was proven wrong when Groot insisted he hide from the rain in a chamber he’d grown inside his bark, perfectly sized to fit the raccoon. Hesitant, he climbed inside, and was greeted with a tiny firefly. Safe from the storm until it passed, he sat, playing with the firefly, positive that he’d found a friend for life.

His second happiest memory, one created not much later in his life, was given to him by the whole team, done shortly after Groot’s sacrifice for their safety. An evening when he was particularly down and lacking days of sleep - because the little twig wasn’t growing more than an inch or two every few days, and still hadn’t gain the ability to speak - the other Guardians surprised him in his quarters with the promise of a dreamless rest. 

Quill supplied the music to help him slumber, Drax offered to pet away any nightmares he might have, and Gamora happily held him to ensure he would be warm. As they’d promised, they stayed with him the entire night, and though he wanted to complain that they didn’t need to baby him, and that he’d be fine, he still admits quietly to himself that he takes them up on the always lasting offer every so often, because he’d never slept better than that night with them all around him.

V x reader When you always hurt yourself

Summary: You have two left feet. End of story.

Genre: Fluff

You had to decorate the school for the school open day after school. You were in charge for the interior decoration in the hall. You need to bring a lot of decorations over. Lights, table cloth, candles, paper, scissors, metal bars and the tool box. You didn’t want to be late as all the members were waiting for you in order to start working. So you grabbed all the things in one go.

You were walking down the corridor to the main hall. Your feet suddenly slip and you fell over. All the material scattered on the floor causing a loud clatter. You fell hard on your knee and you knew there would be a bruise forming. You got up and picked up all the material. 

Taehyung was going to help you carry the stuff so he went down the sae corridor. He was surprised with the sudden sound and ran over. He saw you picking up the material up.

“Why didn’t you wait for me in the classroom?” He said as he went over to put things back into the box.

“You didn’t tell me that you are coming to help me.” You pouted.

“You can always come to my class and ask me to help you.” He rolled his eyes at you. “You know you with your penguin feet ain’t going nowhere.”

You glared at him.

Taehyung helped you carry with most of the things. All you were left to bring was table cloth and the floor plan. You were focusing on the floor plan, thinking how the stage could be connected with the stalls so that it looks more grand. With all your energy went to your brain, your left foot collide with your right ankle. You flew straight on the ground and landed hard on the floor with your face down.

“Ow.” You groaned. Taehyung immediately put down all the things he was holding and pulled you up from the floor.

“How many times are you going to fall before arriving to the main hall?” He said in a worried manner. “Don’t read while you walk,____.”

“You read while you walk.” You retorted.

“I’m not you.” He smirked at you and continued to walk to the main hall.

The members started to decorate the hall as soon as the materials arrived. It was nearly the end, only with minor decorations here and there. 

You went on the stage with a pot of flower in hand. You were not aware the stage has been just waxed, it would be very slippery. You walked on it without any caution. Taehyung and some boys were on the stage checking the connection of the lights. When he saw you coming up, he immediately went over to you. You stepped on the stage and slipped. You were waiting to meet the ground but Taehyung break the fall by holding your arms.

“Where do you want to put it? I’ll help you with that.” He took the flower pot to his hand, preventing you from breaking it.

“Just beside the curtains. Thank you.” You steadied yourself. He made sure you gained your balance before he let you go and put the decor to its place.

The decorations were all done.

Taehyung pulled you to one of the chairs and made you sat down. He pulled out his wallet and took a piece of band aid out. He was always prepared as you were very clumsy. Having paper cuts and bruises were a daily ritual.

“Here. Good to go.” He patted on the band aid. He stood back up and kissed your crown. “Can you please be more careful? I don’t want to buy a box of band aid every two days.”

“I can’t control it. It just slip.” You said.

He ruffle your hair. “Let’s go home. I need to buy some band aid on the way.” He looked at you with a witty smirk.

Sometimes you just want to hit that smile out of his face. But regardless, he still cares about you a lot. And you think you were lucky that an angel became your boyfriend.

Thank you for reading. Sorry for any mistakes made.

Scenario masterlist here

Chicken Soup


By LordnLadyJ

Summary: For thomasorsonhunt who requested a fluffy piece in which the MC is sick and either Addison, Hunt, or Chris takes care of them. I chose Hunt. (No warnings. Complete. 5,600 words.)



“-don’t even kid yourself into thinking that a big, flashy special effects budget is going to make up for a poorly written script and sub-par acting-”

Thomas paused in the middle of his lecture, his gaze falling a couple rows back from the front of the class, where Tory was seated next to Addison. The young woman’s head was resting on her desk, her hair splayed over the desk’s surface and flowing off the edge. From the slow rise and fall of her breathing, it was clear that Tory was asleep. A scowl formed on his face. Had she really fallen asleep? In his class?

Thomas walked closer, and the class seemed to hold their breath. Bianca and her crowd began snickering in the back, knowing Tory was in for it. Henry, the celebutante known for live-tweeting Thomas and Tory’s arguments, had his phone out, his thumbs tapping away. The people in the rows in front of Tory shifted to clear their professor’s line of vision towards the doomed student.

A small part of Thomas was tempted to walk up and kick the underside of Tory’s desk, but, knowing that it was childish and could possibly hurt her, he instead looked to Addison, “wake her up,” he said in a low tone.

Keep reading

just a random thought before sleeping

What if overwatch agents had to fill out a work
Order form? The dates they went somewhere the time for travel time worked. Notes on their mission and writing down a list of used materials: 4 scatter shot arrows, 2 sonic arrows, 2 self destructs, 3 mekas, 167 pharah rockets.

Game Changer — Chapter One: Introductions

Summary: Lucas Friar is used to getting what he wants. That’s just how it always went at John Adams. But come his senior year, Maya Hart transfers to her best friend’s high school and becomes Lucas’ newest Object of Interest. Maya Hart’s changing the game. Lucaya!Highschool AU. Also available at FF.NET

Chapter One: Introductions.

Beep! Beep beep beep beep! Beep!

Riley Matthews reached her arm out to hit the top of her purple alarm clock, effectively quieting the loud beeping. It was 6:45 am on a Monday and the brunette high school girl was already up. She ran her hands through her long brown locks and made her way over to the mirror, checking her outfit for the day.

This particular day, Riley dressed herself in black jumper, flower prints scattered on the corduroy material. Underneath it she wore a yellow long sleeved crop top and black leggings, with white socks folded neatly to show just above her black boots. As a seventeen year old girl, Riley Matthews prided herself in a select number of things: one of them being her sense of style.

“Riley honey, today’s the big day, get up!” Riley’s mother, Topanga, hollered from the hall and was surprised to see her daughter’s door already open to an all dressed and extremely chipper young girl. With a raise of a brow, Topanga leaned herself against the door frame and crossed her arms over her chest. “Well, someone’s excited. Now, what ever could be the reason for that?”

Riley grabbed her backpack on the floor by her desk, double checking inside to make sure she had everything. “Well mom, it’s the first day back at school of course! And not only that, but it’s the first day of my last year of high school.” Riley’s brown eyes scanned her desk one last time before zipping up her bag and throwing it over her shoulder. She turned on her heel to face her mother again.

“Oh, is that it, honey?” Topanga’s lips widened into a smile, knowing exactly what had her little ball of sunshine of a daughter extra sunshiney.

“And Maya transferred for her last year!" 

Keep reading

By Your Side


“Ow…Dammit Lily, ya ever heard of bedside manner?”

Gajeel glared at his exceed partner, eyeing him with a pout.

“Just hold still.” Lily continued to unwind the bandages around the Dragonslayer’s head and chuckled. “Honestly Gajeel, you didn’t make a peep when I took off the rest of the dressings, nor when you got banged up in the first place…are you trying to tell me a bit of wayward adhesive in this tangled mop that you called hair is what has finally done you in? Gi Hi.”

Gajeel let out a grumble and ran his hand through the ‘mop’ as Pantherlily so rudely called it. “Not my fault I ain’t been able ta wash it proper, let alone brush it… what with all the damn linen and glue Pinky the Hermit wrapped my noggin’ in.”

It had been almost a week since the Grand Magic Games came to a close.

Nearly a week since dragon’s came flying out of those damn gates like bats out of Hell and almost a week since the capital narrowly escaped obliteration.

He swore he could still feel the heat of dragon-fire on the back of his neck and the acrid stench of smoke lingering in the air. It was a miracle they survived. Only the god’s knew why.

Already the crumbling buildings and destruction of the capital were steadily morphing into nothing but a bad memory-a nightmare tale to tell wide eyed and snot nosed future generations at the campfire. The people of the city wasted no time in their quest to rebuild and forget. Gajeel knew that if he were to look outside one of the castle’s many windows he would see the street’s already cleared of debris and scaffolding and masonry materials scattered about the collapsed buildings. Rebuild. Renew. It was almost scary how fast humans could take a broken city and make it shine again.

An image of the Shrimp appeared in his head - wild blue locks and big honey eyes sparkling back at him. He could just picture that grin of hers and what she’d say…something along the lines of humans and their innate capacity to harbor hope and shine in the face of adversity. Sappy as shit. He grinned, still picturing her face. He would never admit it aloud of course, but damned if it wasn’t true. Resilience was one thing the people of Crocus had in spades.

Lily waved a paw in front of his face. “Yoo hoo…Earthland to Gajeel.”

He snapped out of his thoughts and focused on Lily. “What ya want, Cat?”

In answer, the exceed flew over to a neatly folded pile of clothing, picked it up, and then tossed it at his surly partner’s face. “You’ve got 4 hours until the banquet. Go take a shower, god knows you stink. And don’t forget to do something with that mess on top of your head.”

Gajeel crossed his arms and thrust out his jaw. “Who says I’m goin’?”

Lily narrowed his eyes and zoomed up to Gajeel until they were nose to nose, shaking a paw in his face. “You’re one of the guests of honor, of course you have to go.” He backed away and grinned, plucking his own little suit from the dresser and making his way to the door. “Besides, I have it on good authority that a certain blue haired script mage is going.”

Gajeel’s face heated, but he managed a fairly convincing scoff. “What’s that got ta do with me?”

Lily peaked his head back around the doorframe and tsked. “Well, she is an awfully cute girl. She’s bound to be in a pretty dress with her hair all done up. I just hope that the multitudes of handsome mages attending don’t wear her out with all their requests to dance. You and I both know she’s too sweet to ever turn them down.” The exceed shrugged, eyeing Gajeel carefully. “But, then again, maybe tonight Levy McGarden will bump into the man of her dreams. How nice for her.” With that, he flew out the door, on his way to meet Happy and Charle.

Gajeel was thankful Lily was out of the room, because he couldn’t suppress the growl that rumbled in the back of his throat as he pictured the Shrimp surrounded on all sides by drooling and pawing men demanding she dance until her feet bled. He had to stop himself there, because red started to haze his vision.

He supposed there was no help for it, he’d have to make an appearance. After all, SOMEONE had to keep all those sop eyed imbeciles away from the bookworm. He couldn’t trust speed racer and the glutton to do it…they always ended up fighting with each other over her, and in the process completely forgot about the actual girl herself.

Suppressing a groan, he ignored his protesting muscles and stood, walking over to a gaudy gilded mirror. After the battle, Fairy Tail’s lodgings were destroyed, so the King graciously extended his hospitality to 'the saviors of the city.’ Personally, he preferred simpler accommodations, but who was he to pass up free accommodations? Not to mention he could order all the food he wanted here and not pay a jewel. Too bad he couldn’t order up a barber for free as well.

Breathing deep, Gajeel forced his gaze to the mirror and surveyed the damage. Hell fire eyes stared back at him, shadowed beneath the unruly mess of his obsidian mane…at least it had been before that pink hermit crab ruined the poor locks by wrapping obscene amounts of bandages around his head. At the moment it looked more like a dragon’s nest.

Dismissing hi8s hair for the time being, he moved on. Eyeing his bare chest, now free from the long strips of linen, he noted only a few faint bruises and a couple of pink scars remained to remind him of the battle. His ribs still protested with shooting pains through his chest if he twisted too fast, but all in all, he didn’t look half bad considering he’d went head to head with a dragon. Nothing a hot shower and about an hour’s worth of fighting with a comb couldn’t fix.

Shrugging, Gajeel turned to the bathroom, unbuckling his trousers as he went and leaving them in a pile by the door. Reaching out, he cranked the walk-in shower to near scalding and then thrust his head under the spray with a groan of both pain and pleasure all rolled into one. Normally, he was in and out of the shower in 20 minutes or less, but this time he lingered, partly in hopes that the heat of the water would ease the ache in his muscles and partly because it took him that fucking long to get all the adhesive shit out of his hair. He was convinced the old bat did it on purpose, presumably after he let his 'hermit crab’ nickname for her slip while she was still in the room. After all, a safety pin could have secured the bandages just as well if not better than that damned sticky crap she ended up using.

Eventually he stumbled from the steamed up bathroom, hissing when the cooler air of the bedroom hit his overheated skin. Drying himself briskly, Gajeel yanked on a clean pair of canvas pants and then rummaged around in his bag until he found a comb. Eyeing it, he suppressed a groan. Damn he was not looking forward to this. Afraid the maids would be out for blood if he left long black hair lying about, he decided to battle his mane out on the stone balcony instead. Walking through the double doors, he took a seat on the stone railing and began the torturous task of taming his wild head of hair of hair. He barely got the bristles a centimeter down a section before it snagged. Damn…he’d be lucky to have a scalp by the time he was done.

“Levy, are you certain you don’t want to get ready with us?”

Lucy stood in the doorframe to Levy’s bedroom, having just delivered Levy’s dress from her adjoining room where the maids left it on her bed by mistake.

Freshly showered and wearing a thick bathrobe over her undergarments, Levy stroked the expensive fabric and smiled. “Not this time. I should be able to manage on my own. Thanks for the invite though Luce! I have a few things I want to do before the party.” In truth, she just wanted to be left with her own thoughts for a while. The Dragon’s and subsequent battle really rattled her…more than she cared to admit. Lucy may be the writer in the guild, but there were times when Levy found putting pen to paper therapeutic and this was one of those instances.

Lucy eyed Levy for a moment but then nodded. “Alright then, I’ll see you at the party? Save a dance for me!”

Levy smiled and nodded, “Of course Lu-chan! See you in a few hours!” The moment Lucy closed the door Levy sobered.

She couldn’t shake the aching feeling in her chest, nor the nagging thoughts in her head that whispered that she’d almost lost all she held dear. Her guild, her friends…him.

Lucy had been fairly tightlipped about meeting her future self and what happened the first time the dragon’s attacked, but judging by the shadows in her friend’s eyes and the nagging ache in her own chest, Levy could make a decent guess. Thank Mavis lady Fate had been bested. Thank the God’s that h….

“Ow! Shit! Goddamnit!”

Levy jumped as a familiar voice floated through the open doors leading to her private balcony. Levy made it halfway across the room before she even registered she was moving. She hesitated by the doorframe, but another string of creative explatives floated to her ears and she couldn’t resist her own curiosity. Padding onto the patio, Levy looked across and one level down to another balcony identical to her own. Ignoring the cool stone on her bare feet, she blushed when she saw a shirtless Gajeel fighting with his long, damp, hopelessly tangled obsidian locks. She winced when he stabbed at the mass with a comb. It looked more like he was trying to knife somebody than simply smooth a snarl. Before she could stop, a giggle escaped. Levy clapped a hand over her mouth, but it was too late. Gajeel instantly stilled. Damn Dragonslayer’s and their bat like hearing.

He raised his chin and scented the air. A breath later and his head whipped up, blood red irises zeroing in on her spying form with laser intensity. He’d caught her. After several pregnant seconds of just staring at each other, Levy broke the silence.


She could see the slayer’s grin break across his face even from her lofty vantage. “Tch…never took you for one ta peep on folks, Shrimp.”

Levy’s face heated and she puffed her cheeks, “I wasn’t peeping! What in Fiore was I supposed to do when I started hearing groans and profanities outside my window?” Crossing her arms, she mumbled, “It sounded like you were being murdered or something.”

Gajeel snorted at that and huffed, “I’m fine Shorty…although I don’t know if my damned scalp will be able to claim the same by the time I’m done.”

He began violently pawing at his hair again, wincing with each wrenching yank of the comb.

“Shouldn’t Ya be getting’ ready yerself, Shrimp?” He asked through gritted teeth as he made another pass through his hair. Before she could answer, a snarl finally came loose and Gajeel’s wrist flicked forward like lightening. The comb sailed over the balcony and down…down…to the partially destroyed gardens below.
“Fuck! That was my only comb!” Gajeel shot to his feet and frowned, glaring daggers as it plopped into a pond and sank out of sight.

Hearing the giggle she couldn’t suppress, Gajeel turned his glare up to Levy. “It ain’t funny bookworm! Now what the hell am I supposed ta do?!”

Taking pity on the distressed slayer, Levy forced her giggles back and bit her lip, thinking. And then divine inspiration struck.

“Just a second!”

Gajeel’s brows winged when Levy disappeared from her balcony. Tilting his head, he listened for some clue as to where she’d gone and what she was doing. He could hear her faint humming as well as a rustle of fabric, and then muted clacking, as if she was rummaging through something. The tell -tale patter of bare feet had him whipping his head back up to the balcony to see the Shrimp scampering outside, several items clutched to her chest. She’d been in a bathrobe moments before, but now she had on a tiny tank top and bitty little shorts.

Awkwardly, juggling items in her arms, she clambered up onto the thick stone railing.

“Shit! What the hell are you doing Levy?!” He was so alarmed, he actually called her by her given name.

Biting at her lip, Levy teetered for a moment on the balustrade, before tightening her grip on the items clutched to her chest and launching herself off of it and toward his own.


Gajeel’s heart nearly leapt from his chest. Levy squealed and screwed her eyes shut. Her tiny little body hurled toward him and he instinctively shot out his arms. A pained oomph escaped him when she slammed into them.

Wide eyed, he stared down at the clearly suicidal fairy nestled against his chest, her eyes still screwed shut. He fought for words, but the hammering of his heart momentarily robbed him of breath and he only managed a croaking grunt of shock. He barely registered the pain in his protesting ribs-her weight was so slight. What he did register was the rainy rose scent of freshly scrubbed female that wafted to his nostrils, as well as the feel of soft, silky skin against his bare chest.

Opening her honeyed eyes, she peaked up at him with a sheepish grin. “Nice catch Gajeel!”

When he continued to gape down at her like she’d grown a second head, Levy’s cheeks pinked and she began to squirm, wishing to be put down.

Absently, he set her on her feet, finally regaining his voice. “Wha….What the Hell?! You got a death wish?!”

Levy rolled her eyes and transferred her handful of items to one arm and then grasped his hand in her own tiny one and lead him to a chair. “Oh, stop blustering…I knew you’d catch me, and you did. So relax!” She poked at his chest, “Now sit and I’ll help you with your hair.”

He was still too shocked to put up much of a fight. How could the Shrimp trust him so much? If he hadn’t of caught her, she’d be dead right now. His chest constricted at the thought.

Levy dropped the items onto a patio table and dragged it over to where he sat, either oblivious to, or just ignoring his distressed metal ass. He busied himself with alternatively seething and thanking the god’s that she was alive and well. He was too glad she wasn’t dead to yell at her for being so reckless, otherwise he sure as hell would have given her an earful. Instead, unable to muster the necessary amount of rage to scream at her, he turned his attention to the things on the table. There were a couple of bottles as well as a 2 combs and a brush.

Grumbling about insane, suicidal Fairy’s, Gajeel crossed his arms and glared off into the afternoon sun until he started to see spots. Levy hummed, and examined her tools, finally deciding on a wide toothed comb and a bottle of amber liquid. Turning back to him, she frowned as she realized he was still too tall in the seat, even with her standing. Tapping his shoulder, she waited patiently for him to end his silent treatment. She had to place her hand against his chest before he finally gave in and looked at her.

“…Um…you’re still too tall…I don’t suppose you’d sit on the ground?”

He thought about being difficult and refusing, but her big expectant eyes did him in and before he knew what hit him his ass was already settling onto the cold stone. She graced him with a big smile for his effort and then perched on the newly vacated chair. He jumped when he felt her tiny hands cup his shoulders and tug- a silent request for him to lean back. He could have easily resisted, but gave in instead, leaning his back against her legs and drawing up on knee to rest his elbow on and plop his chin in his hand. He stared at the shadows cast by the balcony, slowly growing longer and longer as the sun started its descent. Sunset was only an hour or two away.

He heard the pop of a cork and then a pleasant, musky scent wafted to his nose as well as a smell similar to olive oil. Obviously some kind of hair smoothing potion. She gently began to rake her hands through his hair and he had to breath deep and bite his cheek in order to suppress a groaning purr that threatened to rumble out of his chest as her hands began massaging his head. He felt his cock stir in interest and bit his cheek harder, trying to calm himself down. She was just helping him with his hair for fuck’s sake…and here he was, semi-hard. It was disgraceful. He didn’t much care a moment later though, because she lightly dragged her nails against his scalp and he couldn’t hold back a quiet groan. She giggled, but didn’t say a word, focused on her task. Eventually, she introduced the comb, patiently working out the tangles from the ends on up.

Damn…maybe that dragon did kill him…because this felt like heaven. He couldn’t recall having ever felt such a gentle, undemanding touch in his entire sorry existence of a life. Not once. Not ever.

Until now.

Metalicana had loved him in his own way, Gajeel supposed…but the dragon believed in steely strength and tightly checked emotion. His signs of affection translated to bone jarring back slaps with the end of his iron clad tail. Phantom Lord offered nothing better. There had been women of course, and he’d indulged between the sheets with them on occasion…but even those caresses held hunger and demand.

But this…Levy’s touch required nothing of him, and yet gave everything. It was pure and innocent and- he realized with a start- that if he wasn’t careful, he could easily grow addicted. He couldn’t allow that. Not with her.

She was an angel, and he…well he was a monster. Pure and simple. The image of Levy pinned to a tree, black ink marring her porcelain flesh, flashed through his mind. Gajeel gritted his teeth. She was destined for heaven and he knew only hellfire awaited him.

But he was grateful all the same. She’d given him a taste of that illusive paradise, and it was with that small taste he resigned to be content.

Gajeel stared down at his hands. They were rough and scarred and though they appeared unsoiled, he knew better. There was blood and dirt and grime that he would never be able to wipe clean, no matter how hard he scrubbed. Forever tainted by a past of his own design. Hands like his should never be allowed to touch something as pure and good as Levy McGarden. Listening to her hum, he couldn’t suppress the question that sprang from his lips, unbidden before he could stop it.


Her hands stilled in his hair and she stopped her quiet humming.

“Why what?”

He glared at his hands and then clenched his fists, anger and frustration simmering in his throat.

“Why the hell are ya always so nice ta me Lev? How can someone like you trust someone like me…?” He trailed off, but the rest of the question- 'after what I did,’ lingered like smoke in the air.

After a moment, her hands resumed their gentle glide through his hair. She’d made quick work of the tangled mass, he could tell by the smooth passage of the comb that she was almost finished. He thought she wasn’t going to answer at first, but it seemed she was only thinking.

“Because you’re my friend and I trust you.”

He knew he should just leave it at that and stop pressing, but he had to know. He had to understand damn it.

“How the hell can you trust a fucking monster?!”

The comb clattered to the stone and in a blink she was no longer behind him, but rather kneeling in front of him. She grabbed a hank of hair on each side of his head and turned his stunned eyes to her own blazing ones. “You take it back! Do you hear me, Gajeel Redfox?! Take it back right now!” She tugged hard on his hair for emphasis and he winced. Ignoring the light bite of pain, he cast his eyes to the side.

“Can’t take back what’s true Shorty. I don’t deserve ta even share the same space with ya, let alone get forgiven by ya.”

He glanced at her face and recoiled when he saw the glimmer of threatening tears shining in her eyes. She took his face between her palms and her lower lip trembled. “I’m not going to say that you haven’t made mistakes Gajeel, because we both know you have. If you left it at that, I would have never forgiven you. NEVER.”

He thought as much and lowered his eyes with a nod.

“… But you didn’t leave it at that.” She put a bit more pressure against the honed cheekbones of his face, forcing his eyes to meet her own. “You made amends Gajeel. Not just to me, but to the whole guild! You saved my life more than once! You fought for Fairytail and bled for us as well.”

Gajeel gritted his teeth, and shot out his hands, gripping her shoulders tight and shaking her, though he was careful not to actually hurt her. “I BROKE you Levy! You’re so fucking perfect and sweet and good…Ya didn’t deserve what I did to ya!”

She didn’t even flinch. Men cowered at a mere glare from him, and yet this tiny little girl gazed at him with calm and steady eyes. She was a marvel.

“You’re right, I didn’t deserve what you did. But that is in the past. I’m not going to say you’re a different person now, because that would insinuate that the past You doesn’t matter….but I will say this… you HAVE changed.”

She traced the piercings above his brow “I love the past You. Do you know why?”

Gajeel balked and stared at her with wide, confused as all hell eyes.

She smiled and leaned her forehead against his own, “Because it was the Gajeel of the past that ultimately made the decision to allow the present you be here, with me, as you are now.”

His heart began hammering and he closed his eyes as her breath ghosted across his lips.

Her hands clenched against his chest, “ The past you made mistakes. But he was also alone and hurting and lost. …and in the end, he realized what he’d done and made the conscious decision to change and make amends. YOU changed Gajeel, not by circumstance or design, but by choice. Do you know how few people can do that?”

He could only manage to grunt in response, but a weight was suddenly leaving his chest. One that had been there for a long, long time.

Levy pulled back from him a bit and smiled. “You’re a good person, even if you’re too stubborn to see it yet.” She wiped a tear trying to escape from her eye and gave a watery chuckle. “So…I guess until you can see it for yourself, I’ll just have to stay by your side and keep reminding you!”

He let out a halfhearted bark of laughter as his words on Tenrou were so cleverly tossed back in his face- hoping like hell his eyes weren’t starting to water as he suspected. “You damn Fairies, bat shit crazy…the lot of ya.” His tone held little bite.

Levy grinned and punched him in the shoulder, “Watch it Mister, you’re one of us now too you know!”

He grunted and suppressed a smile, “Yeah…I guess I am, Mavis knows none of ya will ever let me forget it!”

Levy nodded, “If you ever tried to leave, I suspect Natsu would probably drag you back, kicking and screaming, by your singed hair…that is only if he beat me to it.” Her eyes darkened and she traced his guild mark with her finger…"Natsu would be small potatoes compared to my wrath!“

Gajeel grinned, and reached up a hand to ruffle her wild blue locks. "I can handle that flame brain any day o’ the week, but you? I’d rather not test whatever devious plans ya got up your sleeve. I’ve heard vertically challenged people can be pretty damn scary when they want ta be!”

She puffed her cheeks and glared, “You just HAD to ruin the moment, didn’t you.”

He shrugged, “Nah, just stating a fact Shrimp.” His hand moved from her head to her cheek, stroking the baby soft skin with his thumb in woder. Her eyes grew wide but she didn’t shy away, in fact she leaned into his touch. She parted her lips and her tongue darted out to moisten them. He leaned forward, searching her eyes for any hesitation. He found none.

One of Crocus’s many Cathedral’s began chiming at that exact moment and they both jumped. Gajeel withdrew his hand with a start and Levy sat back on her heels, breathing heavily. She looked at the rapidly descending sun and gasped. “Oh my god! The party is in less than an hour!”

She scrambled up from her kneeling position between his thighs and Gajeel followed. “We haven’t even dressed yet! My hair is a mess!”

He eyed her and grinned, “ya look fine ta me Shorty, but whatever …let’s get ya back so you can do all that girly shit you female’s love so much.” He grabbed the combs and hair products and pushed them into her arms and then scooped her up.

She let out an adorable, “eep.” And her face turned a bright red. “G…Gajeel! P…put me down!”

He Gi Hi’d down at her, “what’s wrong Shrimp? Ya had no problem leapin’ inta my arms a bit ago. And didn’t ya just say ya trusted me.?”

She squealed when he tightened his arms around her and made a running leap off of his balcony. He landed gracefully on her own a moment later. Giving her a light squeeze before putting her on her feet. He turned to jump back down.


Levy place a small hand on his bicep and he stilled.

Suddenly unsure why exactly she’d stopped him, Levy fidgeted beneath his amused gaze, and toyed with the hem of her tank top. She finally managed a, “…I…I’ll see you at the party?”

He felt a pleasant swell of heat somewhere around his chest at her words. Reaching out a hand, he messed up her hair… again-at this rate she’d never manage to tame it for the party- and grinned. “Yeah, see ya there. And Lev?”


“Thanks for the hair.”

And then he was gone, leaving her to process the fact that he’d called her by her name…or at least most of it. She turned and made her way back into her room, twirling the brush thoughtfully. The ache in her chest that she felt earlier dissipated as if it had never been. Levy jolted when she realized she’d forgot to tell him how terrified she’d been of loosing him…and especially how grateful she was that he survived his battle with the dragon.

She brightened when she realized she’d see him at the party in just short while, remembering his affirmation. She glanced at the gown on the bed, suddenly excited to wear it and see what he thought. She bounced on her heels and began to ready for the party. They were moving forward toward the future, and suddenly it wasn’t quite so scary anymore

…not when she had a Dragonslayer by her side.

Tonight. She’d tell him tonight…



A scarred and battered script mage sat clutching a handful of torn parchment to her chest. Words were the only thing left to her now.

She was Alone.

They were all gone

. The scream of a Dragon on the hunt shook the rafters of her hiding place. Tears tracked down her face and she covered her ears, drawing her knees to her chest and rocking.

He was gone and she had never told him…she’d never said…

“Don’t cry Shrimp…You told me…in another time, a better place.”

Her head shot up and she looked around. No…it wasn’t possible. She’d watched him die. She’d watched them all die.

“…I love you too ya know.”

Levy gasped and warmth radiated through her chest. As the dragon’s roars drew closer, she raised her hand up, watching in wonder as her body began to fade, dissipating into the ether like the gentle glow of fireflies dancing toward the moon.

Could it be? Had Lucy actually made it back and changed the course of the future? Suddenly, the Phantom embrace of strong, studded arms wrapped around her rapidly diminishing form, pulling her toward the light.


The words were disembodied and distant, but they grew more real the closer the arms drew her.

“It’s time to come home, Lev…didn’t I tell you ta stay by my side after all?”

Dragon flame engulfed the tiny shack…but Levy McGarden was not there to feel it’s heat. A handful of parchment fluttered to the ground, curling and smoking as firefly lights danced up toward the heavens.

To Home. To Him.