Elphaba swallowed down the rising lump in her throat. She bit the inside of her cheek to keep her eyes from tearing up. Clenched hands pressed forest green nails into sweaty palms to further ground the witch. They had been particularly cruel this week.Â
The pranks and insults were so brutal, so constant, that the young sorceress was left flinching at passing shadows. She tried not to let the treatment get to her. She tried to appear unbothered (if not merely inconvenienced), and most of the time Elphaba managed it just fine.Â
But not right now.
Not this time.
Pfannee stood proudly on a tree stump. Grinning like a man deranged, he held aloft a black leather bound book. The audience seated at his feet tittered and goaded his actions further.Â
ShenShen huffed and crossed her arms. âJust read it Pfannee!â
Elphaba had found them by chance. She had hoped to find some peace on a campus hiking trail. Now she found herself petrified and standing a few feet away from the very people she was hoping to avoid. A shrub partially obscured her. But just barely. Â
Through all her outrage and fear something nagged at her mind. âHow in Oz did Pfannee get a hold of my journal?âÂ
Elphaba continued to mull the conundrum in her mind until she spotted a familiar, pink, nightmare in heels. Galinda let out a giggle so deceptively sweet. One couldnât help but overlook the gleam of cruelty in her eyes, but not Elphaba, she knew better.
The blonde addressed ShenShen. âAfter all I had to do to find that accursed thing? Please, the least Pfannee could do is give me a little showmanship! I, for one, love the suspense! It's positively thrillifying!â
Then everything clicked. Elphaba had left their shared quarters earlier than usual that morning. She had an early meeting with Madame Morrible. That left nothing to stop Galinda from rummaging around her drawers for something to torture her with.
Elphabaâs stomach dropped and her knees buckled for a moment. A twig snapped under her boots while attempting to right herself and there was no doubt that Pfannee heard Elphaba stumble. Yet he still proceeded to clear his throat and all attention snapped to him. He adjusted his glasses and undid the ribbon tying the book closed.Â
Time seemed to slow for Elphaba as he began to crack the journal open-
She wasnât thinking. She was hardly conscious of her body. All her senses were tuned to the magic thrumming in her veins. Green hands sparked with energy. Emerald orbs zeroed in on the leather book and before Elphaba could stop herself, verdant flames burst from worn pages to wrap around soft leather.
âOH SWEET OZ!â Pfannee shrilled as he flung the book into the air in a panic. It landed in an arc amidst the girls sitting in the grass. A frenzy of shrieks and tangled limbs broke out as each girl scrambled to get away from the flaming book. Elphaba watched for a moment before hiking her skirts and stealing away deeper into the forest.
The young witch kept running until the screaming behind her subsided fully. Even still, Elphaba only slowed to a jog when the landscape was noticeably greener than the forest sheâd seen so far. âHow oddâŚâ The further Elphaba went, the more the air turned thick with summer flowers and rain.
She wasnât even sure she was still on the trail anymore, everything seemed⌠wilder. Gone were the manicured trees, clipped shrubs, and artistically placed âwildflowersâ. Instead, deep green moss padded the ground. Curling vines sporting little purple flowers draped themselves over stretched boughs.Â
Glossy ferns and berry bushes; crowned in ivy and brambles, settled themselves at the base of ancient trees. Despite the beauty of the landscape, Elphaba kept pushing deeper and deeper into the forest. Anxiety and shame coaxed emerald legs forwardâŚÂ until her foot caught on something set in the ground.
The green girl pitched forward, curses spilled from her mouth as she crashed to the ground. She lay with her face planted in the mossy ground. Then all at once emotion caught up to her. Rage and indignation parted her lips and ripped a scream from her throat. Each cry was greedily swallowed by earth who left nothing but muffled traces of outrage.
Eventually Elphaba flipped to the flat of her back. She patted her legs and ankles to assess any damage and sighing when she found none. Upon sitting up, green eyes flicked down to get a proper look at what bastard thing tripped her.Â
A chalk-white stone jutted out of the moss by her feet. It was about ankle height, oblong, with corners rounded by time and dotted by small bits of lichen. It was obvious to Elphaba that the stone was placed there *by* someone, perhaps long ago. Curiosity goaded her to trace a tentative finger over its smooth surface.
In an instant hazy images flashed behind verdant eyelids. A shimmering pond. A field of flowers. A hand lacing its fingers with a green one. A faceless figure writhing under emerald fingersâŚÂ
Elphaba removed her finger as if burned. Blinking, she stared in shock at the innocent (and completely normal) stone. She gave it another experimental jab with her finger.Â
Nothing happenedâŚ
Confused and intrigued the fledgeling sorceress huffed. Reaching out with her magic, she attempted to sense any traces of spellwork. Elphabaâs senses immediately became overwhelmed. She had anticipated some magic, but it seemed the whole damn forest was thrumming with energy. It tinged the air, oozed from each leaf, and seeped into the very ground.
It was a feeling so intense that it made Elphabaâs head swim. With a controlled breath she tried to reach out again, this time focusing solely on the white stone at her foot. The result was about the same. Though this time, there was a hint of⌠something else.Â
A glimmer.
A shimmer.
A flicker of gold.
It was faint but definitely there. The witch focused a bit harder, letting her power mingle with it until golden tendrils of magic curled around the stone. Then golden threads wove their way to somewhere behind Elphaba. She followed them with her eyes, finding another white stone just at the edge of the clearing.Â
It too glimmered with threads of gold. They wound away from it and disappeared into the foliage. An odd sense of recognition tugged at her mind. Elphaba pondered it. She searched her mind until she vaguely remembered reading about such a phenomenon.Â
Wander keys. Magical pathways that lead to mystical gateways or sanctuaries of concentrated and long forgotten magics that only showed themselves to those sensitive enough to trace them.
It was then that Elphaba realized she had stood. Not only that, but her feet had carried her forward and into the brush. Magic whispered sweetly and encouraged her forward. The sorceress allowed herself to be pulled. More stones, more twists of thread, each with their allure slightly stronger than the last.Â
She followed them deeper and deeper into the woods. Each step, each thrum of energy worked to soothe the fledgling witch. After what felt like hours, she finally reached their end. Elphaba found herself at the edge of a glittering pond.Â
Chalk-white boulders dotted the shore like rounded teeth. Much like the smaller stones, ivy and moss clung to them. However; they were not smooth. Curling patterns had been carved into every inch and it was here that the golden threads originated. They came together to drape themselves around the boulders and disappear beneath the water.
When verdant eyes gazed over said water all the gold dissipated, yet Elphaba could still feel their presence emanating from the pond. Its surface eerily smooth, no breeze nor fallen leaf disturbed its glassy mask. Despite the unnatural stillness, the witchling knew deep within that there was no danger here.
Something whispered from within Elphabaâs own magic. It guided her hands to dip into the pond. When skin met water, a feeling unlike any other bloomed. It felt like coming home. Like breathing for the first time. Like the warmth and safety of a motherâs lap.
Elphaba couldnât help it. Her body became boneless at the feeling.Â
A full day where spirits of all kinds can walk freely among the living. A day where magic flows as freely as wine and the dead roam the streets to party down with us đ¤
That being said, when rolling around with spirits, it's important to look after your spiritual safety! Here are some tips to keep safe this All Hallows Eve!
1: Don't forget to ward your home of any evils (a sacred space is a safe place!)
You can do this by yelling (with conviction) at whatever may be kicking around your home, that they are NEVER welcome and need to GTFO. Afterwards, sprinkle salt in every corner of every room you wish to be a 'ghost free zone'.
2: Pinch salt into your shoes for protection 'on the go'
You can do this if you don't have/don't want to wear protective charms, (or don't have them tattooed to your body). This is a great way to ensure you don't get shanked in the chakras. And if you don't like waiting for the salt to melt with your bodyheat, a misting of saltwater will do the trick too!
3: Don't go into the fucking woods
This one is self explanatory, especially if you live in the Appalachians (y'all know what I'm talking about đ). This also applies to cemeteries, abandoned buildings, and places that look/feel a little too spooky. Tonight the shadows bite.
4: Don't say 'thank you' to ANYONE
I know. I know. Rude right? But I'll be fucked if I sell my soul to the Fae for a fun-sized KitKat. Best not to risk it, there are other ways to express gratitude. "I appreciate it" Or a simple "happy Halloween" will do.
5: How to interact with spirits
Remember they are people. Be polite, be respectful, and reveal ABSOLUTELY NOTHING about yourself. (Some spirits feed on information, while others can use it to attach themselves to someone/something) Offer them a treat, smoke, drink, gift, trinket, whatever. Or face the consequences. If they offer a gift in return, take it. DO NOT accept a gift if you haven't offered one first (that is a trap). And ALWAYS. SAY. GOODBYE. Weather the entity you're interacting with is physical or not, you must ALWAYS *clearly* say goodbye.
And for the love of all that is good, DON'T SUMMON ANYTHING!
6: Cleanse yourself of negative energy when you get home
This process is completely up to you and what aligns with your beliefs.
Personally, I like to take a quiet moment to thank my ancestors and those who watch over me, give them a plate of goodies, then sit and have a drink for them.
All in all, respect the spirits and have a great time!
âYou will get yourself killed! Please, Mizu abandon this foolishnessâŚâ
Sword Fatherâs words echoed in Mizuâs skull. The words filled her with bitterness. Bitterness at the old man for always being right. Mizu missed him dearly. Like a homesick child; she wished for her father and the glow of his forge. Yet here she was instead. A wounded warrior stumbling through the woods clutching her bleeding stomach, pleading with anyone for help.Â
But her cries fell on deaf ears. Travelers made sure to steer away from the strange bleeding man. So she wandered. Wandered until she eventually staggered up a bridge. It was here that hands reached out at her from all directions. Ravenous fingers clawed at Mizu while lilting voices promised ultimate bliss of the flesh. When Mizu broke free of their holds a familiar face cut through the haze.Â
â...Mama?â
âŚ
Living with her mother was different than she had imagined. For one, she began to style and clothe herself as a woman. Not because she felt it safe to do so. No, it was simply because Mama wished it so.
âMy daughter will do her best to look pretty and presentable.â Her mama declared one morning. And that was that.
It took Mizu some time to convince her mother not to âworkâ as she had money saved. With those funds they would be able to live a simple life. Tucked away in the safety of the valley. But instead of the peace she had imagined this moment to bring, it was⌠uneasy⌠strained⌠The silent tension grew alongside her Mamaâs dependency on opium. Her âmedicineâ. Yet Mizu bit her tongue on the subject. She chose to dismiss the behavior as a mere âquirkâ of her motherâs.Â
However; the addiction was undeniable when Mizu picked up her alarmingly empty coin purse. âThe money is goneâŚâ She whispered in disbelief.
From the doorway of the cottage, Mama gave her daughter a glassy eyed smile.âNever mind that! I found the answer to all our problems! I found you a husband~â she giggled, âHeâs a disgraced samurai, so he's in no condition to complain about your looks!â She added gleefully.
That's when the tension snapped like a rope and the illusion shattered for Mizu. Blue eyes beheld the woman before them. They soaked in every glaring detail as if for the very first time. What she found saddened and disgusted her. This was no mother of hers. She needed the smell of smelting metal. Needed the glow of a forge and the rhythmic clanging of hammers on forming blades. She needed to go home.
Mizu got up without a word, beginning to don her sword and traveling clothes. She was almost through with packing her things, when her mother became lucid enough to notice her.
The older woman immediately began to blubber, âWhat do you think youâre doing? Youâre dressed like a man again, donât you go running off! You gotta stay here and get married! Youâre supposed to take care of me! I am your mother!â she wailed as fat tears rolled down her wrinkled face.
Blue eyes lifted to regard her mother a final time. âI am no manâs wife.â Mizu hissed coldly before exiting, never to return.
~***~
The scent of ocean salt and burning wood greeted Mizu like an old friend. In the shade of ancient trees lay Sword Fatherâs forge. Every bit of it looked the same as it always had. Solid, constant, timeless. Just like the man who opened the door for her, who never once questioned why she returned. Sword Father exuded quiet understanding which she was grateful for.Â
After a brief but warm reunion, everything resumed as if the apprentice had never left. They smelted metal one day, shaped it into tools the next, journeyed to the village to sell their work and return with supplies. A routine Mizu followed happily for a good number of moons. She would have been content to do so forever but fate was never keen on leaving her beâŚ
I *know* I promised Dr.Who fics... and they're coming! They are! HOWEVER... While I was writing them I found a new hyper-fixation and now Mizu from Blue Eye Samurai is all I can think about. The OGs round here know I'm a slut W E A K for women who can kill me that wield swords.
So here's a teaser for that instead... love ya'll and thank you for putting up with my antics~
18+ MDNI
So Shy For a Samurai
~***~
The corners of Mizuâs lips twitched upward for a moment, though her cheeks betrayed her thoughts. A deep crimson flush settled itself over her features as the other woman nestled closer. Soft hands came to rest upon Mizuâs chest, fingertips brushing softly against her racing heart.Â
A soft giggle split through the flickering darkness. âYour heart betrays you.â You smile softly.
Mizu tensed. âOh?â
âI can feel it beating wildly under my fingertips. It screams all the words your lips swallow back.â
âAnd what does it tell you?â Mizu husked as her blue eyes flashed with something unreadable. You said nothing, opting to let your hands speak for you. Gentle fingers traced the contours of Mizuâs toned shoulder. She could feel warmth blooming under where you touched her. The warmth gradually grew, spreading through her tired body.Â
It melted fatigue from battle steeped muscles like candle wax. Each feather light touch from you filled every fibre of the warrior's body with pure love and tenderness. A tenderness so foreign to Mizu it made her instantly lock up, instinctually hiding her eyes behind closed lids. All her smug bravado evaporating under your touch. She lay petrified in your arms with a heart racing even faster now. When you felt Mizu stiffen, you took note of how her eyes were squeezed shut as her subconscious braced her for strikes that would never come.
It was here in the absence of piercing blue, that daring and bravery came to guide your movements. Your own heart began to beat loudly in your ears as you leaned up. Petal soft lips grazed against a razor sharp jaw, once, twice⌠on your third pass Mizu shifted and this time your lips landed squarely on hersâŚ
So my hiatus turned out to be for almost two years... whoops...
I'm back now though! And I'd like to say that things won't change too much in terms of my content, I'll just be shifting my fandoms a bit. ADHD hyper-fixations, ya know?
I'd also like to say that I genuinely missed this blog and the communities I've been a part of and I'm so happy to be back! Lets go write some filth make some art!~
Q1. What is something that youâre proud of in the past year?
Q2. Whatâs something youâve learned in 2023 that you plan to take into the New Year?
Q3. What do you want to accomplish in the next year?
Q4. Do you/your family (choice or origin) have any New Years traditions?
1) I'm proud of myself for regaining the courage to, not just write again, but to share my work with all of you!
2) I learned that my inner critic can go fuck herself! She nitpicks EVERYTHING and honestly, I don't have the energy to keep up with her impossible standards.
3) I wanna get my career in the arts off the ground! (Or at the very least start to)
4) We get as drunk as our livers allow!
Alrighty, I'm fading fast y'all. Good night and happy New Year!
A/N: had this in the drafts for a while and decided to write it up while I canât sleep in this sketchy ass motel in the Bronx đ (I fucking hate nyc Iâm just here to see the lion king on Broadway and familyđ)
Inspo: the idea of Izogie giving a lecture is MMMUAH chefâs kiss đ đ¤đż
Taglist: @mybonafidefeelings @masterajoy314 @gr00vyminibus @xenaizogie @scribblecake @blkbinz @blacksapphhicmaddonna (my bad if I missed you itâs literally almost 6am and Iâm running on 4 hours of sleep)
~~~
Prof!Izogie that watched as your office belongings were being shoved into her already limited office space in disbelief by construction workers. The west wing of the university was undergoing renovations, but she didnât know that her workspace would be affected since she was located in the east wing. Slamming her laptop shut and forced to pause grading history essays, she quickly typed in her bossâs number to complain.
Prof!Izogie who was being given a half-assed explanation to why the university was being so unprofessional and inconveniencing her when you walked in with a loose leaf paper note in hand telling you where your stuff had been relocated to. She stopped mid-complaint to see you for the first time ever. And you looked hot. Not in a good way for her though, in a âthereâs no fucking way Iâll get a damn thing done with you aroundâ way. And that was the first of many things that irked her about you from that point forward.
âAhem, excuse me, Miss, Iâm on the phone.â She cleared her throat and looked away before you could notice her checking you out.
Usually, your manners would serve you in this situation, but you just power-walked from one end of the university to the other with a flimsy notice of your unexpectedly relocated belongings in hand. Not an email was sent or discussion was had with you about this abrupt change, and you werenât too keen on sharing such an already small space either. So pardon you if you had a little sass in your tone as you spoke with your new officemate.
âWell, my things are somehow in your room instead of mine, so youâre excused.â
Prof!Izogie whoâs eyebrows jumped to her hairline at your clipped tone. Why were you speaking to her as if she was the one that wanted you here? And who were you to catch an attitude with her in her own space? Her boss hung up the phone, claiming to have a meeting that was more important than this conversation, and left her to deal with you and your disgruntled attitude.
Prof!Izogie who silently watched as you walked over to your side of the room and assessed the messy pile of belongings that the construction workers plopped on your new desk. Her gaze glided over your attire and studied how you moved: button-up shirt. long jeans. short, manicured nails. Locs up in a messy bun.
Prof!Izogie whoâs mind ended up wandering to more distracting thoughts. The button-up shirt covered your backside, but as you bent forward to organize your desk, it slowly rose up to reveal the bottom curve of yourâ
A slam of your desk drawer dead-ended the risquĂŠ path her brain was trekking. Your frequent huffs and puffs of frustration filled the room and subsequently added to her own. Her fingers tapped against her laptop, itching to cut the tension in the air by at least half. She decided to do so, as the constant shuffling and annoyed sighs were grinding on her last nerve.
âI just got off the phone with my boss about this arrangement. Iâm assuming youâre one of the science professors that was kicked out of their room?â She said as she got up from behind her desk, languidly strolled to the front of it, and leaned against it with her arms crossed.
You rolled your eyes at her question that had an obvious answer without turning around to face her.
âNo, my room wasnât small enough for me, so I decided to just move to yours.â You snarkily replied, plopping your half-graded project assignments on your cleanish desk and turned around to face her. The view of her leaned back so nonchalantly against her desk caught you off-guard.
She was hot: Black-rimmed glasses. Black turtleneck tucked into gray striped dress pants. Gold necklace that rested atop her bosom. Her long sleeves were tight around her arms, outlining her toned biceps underneath. Her presence almost made you dizzy.
Prof!Izogie who noticed the atmosphere shift as your gaze slightly softened and a few lines smoothed out from between your eyebrows. She caught the quick scan you gave her in an eye flick you thought was subtle. Blood slightly rose to the surface of her skin, but she remained poised under your gaze.
Prof!Izogie that introduced herself to you, making sure to slow down at her name, as people often got the pronunciation wrong. Her ears tingled as you repeated her name back effortlessly, accompanied with the accent that her name originated from and all. And thatâs how she knew she was in trouble. If her name kept rolling off your tongue like that, sheâd have to hand in her two-weeks notice today; her work performance would plummet at this rate.
Prof!Izogie who felt her chest flutter at how pretty your name sounded as it fell through your lips. This professor hears her name being called everyday in and outside of the classroom, and she learns new names everyday herself. But somehow hearing your name, and hearing her name from you has her beside herself in a way she couldnât comprehend.
After you exchanged short, but awkward introductions, you sat at your desk and took out your laptop. The second the email app appeared on the screen upon it powering on, you typed away at an email draft to your students to let them know of your office change.
Half-way through the email, you could still see her looking at you at the top of your peripheral vision. Your hands started to slightly shake, overshooting keypads and hitting the wrong letters. Her ability to make you this nervous despite only meeting each other for the first time ten minutes prior chipped at your ego. You huffed.
âSo youâre a history teacher, right?â You asked, hoping that small talk would calm your nerves.
âYes. I teach in room 207 on Tuesdays and Thursdays.â She replied.
âWhat kind?â
Prof!Izogie as her shoulders and back straightened a bit more as she stated âThe History of Kingdoms in Beninâ â her favorite class to teach. Only for them to slightly deflate when you replied with an unimpressed hum. Her eyebrow quirked in disbelief at the lack of interest to what she said. Her expertise in the subject was usually met with âOooh, sounds intriguingâ and âWow, tell me more about that!â from her colleagues. Especially the ones who had little crushes on her.
Prof!Izogie with a slightly bruised ego but refused to let it show as she asked you what kind of science you taught: anatomy and physiology. Basically every little thing about the body and how it works. Such a complex subject with concepts that interconnected in more ways than one, just like her history course. So why did you not find her subject just as interesting? Not that it bothered her, thatâd be silly! She barely knows you.
An email chime on your computer grabbed your attention. Your eyebrows furrowed further with each line your eyes skimmed over.
âUhm, I just got an email saying that Iâll be teaching in that same room⌠on the same days.â You said, rereading to make sure that was correct.
She finally moved off of her desk and took only two steps to be in front of yours. You werenât going to deny that her towering over you was making you feel a certain way.
âAt what times? Because if itâs 2:15 that canât beââ
âItâs 2:15.â
Prof!Izogie who wanted the floor to swallow her up whole.
Let's start this off with an apology. I've teased at a massive fic drop, I haven't delivered on it yet. I'm sorry for keeping you guys waiting so long.
It's gonna be posted, I swear!
However, Life bitch smacked me upside the head with a frozen codfish. And because of this, I must go on a writing hiatus for a *short* time until I can get to calmer waters. I'll still be lurkin' tho
Thank you all so much for your patience! I'll do my best to get back to posting regularly as soon as possible!
