#Sam's Bad Day

[sylseal]

Sam's Bad Day, Part 4/4 (D&D fiction, ~3.7k words)

(Part 1, Part 2, Part 3. Thank you for reading <3)

Sarghun shot up in his bed, cold sweat broken out across his body, the older orc gasping for air and his body full of adrenaline. After a moment of realizing he was safe in his home, however, he rubbed his face and sat up on the side of the bed, staring out the window at the moon. Another nightmare about that little town had plagued him.

"Love...?" he heard a quiet mumble, and a hand came to rest on his shoulder. His wife, Lugash, had been woken from his stirring, it seemed. He put a hand on her own and smiled,

"I'm alright, I'm alright, I promise. Go back to bed."

"Another nightmare...?" she asked, more insistent this time. Sarghun went quiet. She sighed, "Well, I know you aren't going back to sleep, so I'm not either. I'll start to make some tea?" she offered, starting to sit up so she might stand.

"I-" he wanted to argue, but Lugash was already halfway up, giving him a knowing smile as she left the bedroom. He hated to impose, but Lugash loved to insist. Throwing on a shirt and some pants, he eventually joined her out in the living room, running his hand along her mess of wild black locks. "...Thank you," he finally said, staring at her for a long moment, simply admiring. She smiled back, and for a moment, everything was alright, and the world was at peace.

Then, there was a sudden, violent knock at the door. Sarghun's stomach twisted into knots.

"At this hour? Who's that...?" Lugash asked, but he shook his head,

"Don't know. I'll check and see, keep the tea on." with the bad feeling still in his stomach, Sarghun walked to the door, and opened it a crack.

It was Rhogar.

He was shirtless, with the only thing covering his chest being a symbol made using what smelled like the blood of an ox, a glyph in orcish that said "War." Tension filled Sarghun's body, and he stood tall as he opened the door fully. He knew what that symbol meant, and what Rhogar being shirtless meant. A duel. A tradition for usurping the clan leader since the beginning of their people. Gruumsh had taught the orcs; if an orc was not mighty enough to hold his position in one-on-one combat, without his weapons or allies to help him, then he did not deserve either of them.

"Commander," Rhogar growled in archaic, formal orcish, "I hereby challenge your authority over the clan. I would test you in a battle of physical and martial skill, to be witnessed by an impartial group of your fellow warriors, with the price of loss being death, and the reward of victory being the takeover of your position as commander, as is tradition. Do you accept?"

"Rhogar," Sarghun spoke carefully and softly, looking Rhogar dead in the eyes, "...Please, do not do this, I beg of you. We are so close to being free of her influence, we just need a bit more time-"

"Do. You. Accept?" Rhogar's features hardened, and he stood straight up, face cold. Sarghun holds that stare for a moment, still tense, before at last he lets out a sigh, resigned.

"...I accept. May Gruumsh strike me down with his spear if I lie." A nod from Rhogar, who turned and began to walk away. In the middle of the clan's temporary settlement, the "town square," as it were, there was a ring of other orcs, all holding torches up. Sarghun turned to Lugash, who looked at him worriedly.

"...Sarghun, are you sure?" She whispered, and he sighed,

"No." He began removing his shirt, feeling his old bones ache deep inside, as Lugash approached, "But I do not seem to have a choice. I will be back soon, love." She put a hand on his cheek, her face hardened.

"...Do what you must, and do so without regrets." He gave a small nod, though he knew he would be unable to fulfill her request entirely. He certainly did not want any of this. She let her hand fall, and Sarghun prepared to head outside.

As he approached the circle's center, silence rang out, deafening, over the arena. Rhogar was only illuminated by torchlight, but Sarghun saw him clearly regardless. His instincts demanded he see him, or he might die.

"We begin on the count of three," Rhogar growled, and put his hands up as if he were going to throw a punch. Sarghun did not.

"One." He began to step closer. Sarghun didn't move.

"Two." They locked eyes, and Sarghun bared his teeth.

"Three."

Rhogar was faster, running towards Sarghun, but Sarghun was more experienced. He saw Rhogar pull back a fist, and dove down, letting out a roar as he charged. He tackled the younger orc's legs out from under him, and hefted him into the air. Sarghun snarled while Rhogar attempted to elbow him in the back. Sarghun just ignored the pain, it being dulled after years of his body having weathered far worse. At the apex of his lift, Sarghun slammed Rhogar down to the ground, knocking the wind out of his lungs.

Not sparing a moment of hesitation, Sarghun moved to sit on Rhogar's stomach, his center of mass, to pin him down. Rhogar put his hands up to block his face, but Sarghun reared back and slammed a fist into Rhogar's chest, again, and again, and again, until Rhogar was wheezing for air.

"Give--in!" Sarghun cried out between punches, "Surrender now, and I--may--be--merciful!" Was it a warning or a plea? Sarghun himself didn't really know. He just knew his heart hurt, and he hated every moment of this.

He knew Rhogar's husband and their children. He would have to face them after this. However, he forcibly pushed those thoughts to the back of his mind, focused only on the fight. Those thoughts made him hesitate, and Rhogar landed a pretty good punch to the face as a result. Sarghun felt his nose break from how hard Rhogar walloped him, but he didn't move, and instead used the chance to retaliate, and keep the air from Rhogar's lungs with another punch.

"Never," Rhogar gasped, throwing another punch, but without any breath to back it up, it wasn't nearly as strong, and so Sarghun darted his head to the side, letting it sail past. "Ivory is--a monster! An evil, manipulative creature! I will not let her destroy all the honor you--you have worked to build! I will not allow it!" In the moment Rhogar next tried to punch his face, Sarghun grabbed him by the throat and slammed him against the cold, hard earth, knocking the energy out of him this time, and momentarily stunning him. Sarghun reared back to start laying into his face...

"Ahem!" A feminine voice interrupted, loud enough to get both of their attentions, and, at the edge of the circle, there stood Ivory, clad in black armor, pale skin nonetheless visible against the black night, and red hair glowing with hellfire. She had this shitty little smirk on her face as she stepped forwards. "I hate to interrupt this bit of, ah, tribal grandstanding, but...you may wish to know that I have found the item. It is within Veldin City, about a day and a half's travel from here. All signs point to it being there...and it has been there since we got back from that dingy little backwater."

Sarghun's eyes went wide, and he looked to Rhogar, who looked confused and in disbelief.

"I...I do not trust it!" Rhogar called, and Ivory guffawed,

"I," she grinned, "don't give a damn what your insignificant little brain believes. It is the truth."

"Rhogar," Sarghun said, getting his subordinate's attention, and seeing an opportunity here. "Ivory is a miserable little wench who deserves to go rot in the abyss." Ivory let out an offended scoff, but Sarghun trampled over it. "But, we have an opportunity here. This is it. This is our chance to wipe away the debt with her once and for all. Let us not waste it by killing each other and putting the clan at half-strength for the raid." Rhogar was, for a moment, silent.

"..." Gritting his teeth, he hissed, "...If it is not done after this..." he warned, and Sarghun nodded,

"If it is not, I will step down, and exile myself. I will not stop you, if it continues after this. Agreed?" Staring up at him for a moment longer, Rhogar nodded.

"...I agree." A wave of relief swept through Sarghun's body, and he stood up, looking to Ivory.

"Show me this city. Rhogar, get the warriors ready. We have one day to prepare, then tomorrow morning, we ride for this Veldin City, to finish this once and for all."

-----

Over the next couple of days, Sam and Riley trained with weapons and magic both; it wasn't much, but Sam was good with a sword, and took to the training quickly. And, thanks to her sorcerous bloodline, she also was a talented mage, too. She quickly learned that she had access to a handful of spells, most of them having to do with light or fire or using the light inside her in some meaningful way.

Then, on the third day, as they were eating lunch...Riley suddenly blinked and looked up...and her face went pale.

"Ri?" Sam blinked, finishing her food, "Everything okay?"

"The--" she swallowed hard, "The city's under attack, by a band of orcs. There's a devil with them. The guard is calling all adventurers to come and lend their aid." Sam's face grew serious, and there was a weird knot in her gut.

"Sounds like a good time to test out my new skills with a weapon, don't you think?"

"Orcs are serious business, Sam," she warned, "Especially if they have a devil with them." Sam grinned and nudged her,

"Yeah, that's why I'll bring you along!" Riley had a serious expression on her face, but sighed.

"...Oh, sure whynot. Worst that happens is we have to flee, right?"

"That's the spirit!" Sam grinned, putting on her scarf and starting outside, with Riley shortly joining her soon thereafter, as the two got ready to make their way to the section of the city under attack.

-----

When they arrived, they first smelled smoke. Then, Sam made a face, turning to Riley as they walked,

"Okay, come on, you have to smell that."

"No?" Riley blinks, "Aside from the smoke, you mean? No."

"It's--it reeks of rotten e--" Sam blinked in realization, and then her face contorted to one of pure rage. "...It reeks of rotten eggs. Like home." Riley's face paled, and she slowed to a stop, as they stood among the rubble.

"Maybe we shouldn't do this, Sam. Fighting while angry, it...it's a really bad idea."

"I don't care. I need to know why this happened, Ri." Light flooded her veins and fury screamed in her heart as she spoke, magic building inside her. "I need to know why they did this. Are you with me, or not?"

"I...fuck, Sam. Okay, yeah, I'm with you. Just, don't do anything stupid, okay?"

"I won't. Promise," Sam smiles, and Riley sighs, before falling into lockstep with her best friend as she started off towards where the smell was getting stronger. They passed by people running from the threat, or screaming to get away. Then, as they saw where the smoke was billowing from, they saw her.

It was just the devil; a woman with pale skin, deep ruby red lips, glowing red hair, two big red wings jetting out from her back, and wearing black armor. In her hand was a wicked-looking, spiked short sword. Her eyes, of course, were pitch black. She, Sam surmised, was the source of the smell.

Riley had her harp ready in one hand, short sword in the other. Sam's fingers squeezed tightly around a longsword Riley had bought for her, and she approached as the devil looked up at her. The woman's face contorted into a scowl.

"There it is," she hissed, making a motion with her hands and whispering some strange words in a deep hiss. Suddenly, shadows flew into her weapon, and formed an extended blade, turning it into a shadowy longsword.

In response, Sam focused on the energy within, and felt the light inside her surge forth like a tidal wave, surrounding her body in a protective barrier of pure sunshine, which quickly forged itself into a suit of golden, translucent armor. Like this, the scarf appeared as a glowing half-cape, and Sam looked like a regal warrior right out of a fairy tale.

"You..." the devil balked, "you used it!? You unworthy, insignificant bitch! You actually had the gall to use Bariel's Cloak! Do you even know what that scarf you're wearing is?" Sam's rage was bubbling up, and she wanted to scream, but Riley's words echoed in her mind.

Fighting while angry is a really bad idea.

Maybe leading with anger out in the open was a terrible idea, too. Better yet, maybe she could piss the devil off instead.

"I sure did," Sam hissed, "What's it to you, devil? I know for a fact that you don't own this scarf. I don't even know your name. In fact, why don't you give me your name? After all, I'll need something to engrave on your tombstone."

"For your information, little heavenspawn," the devil responded with such venom that Sam could almost taste it off the words, "I am called Ivory, an Erinyes, here on business for Lord Asmodeus! That scarf is stolen property of his majesty and the Nine Hells, and I will see it returned to us!"

"Oh really?" Sam held her weapon with both hands now, raising it to prepare for battle, "Seems like an awfully holy thing to belong to such a miserable creature as you or your lord. So thanks," her eyes began to glow, "but I think I'll keep it."

"You have even less right than its original owner did to keep it!" the devil snarled, lifting into the air, "And you couldn't even hope to keep it from me, even if you wanted to!" with a scream, she flew at Sam, weapon bared. Suddenly, as Sam focused, glowing, holy light engulfed her weapon, and she drew it upwards just at the last moment, letting out a shout of satisfaction as the two blades crashed together and locked in that position.

What Sam did not notice, however, was the appearance of a white, gold-glowing spirit, the same that had appeared in her dream, floating just behind her, guiding her hand and peering over her shoulder.

The Erinyes saw it, though.

"Bariel," Ivory hissed, looking at the spirit instead of Sam. The spirit did not reply, simply staring back at her, "Even in death, your essence cannot help but be a nuisance, hmm? You had no right to ascend, and you certainly have no right to interfere when we try and get back what-" in the midst of her talking, however, once Sam had heard enough, she reared a hand back,

"You should really," she growled, voice turning to a low roar, "pay attention to who you're fighting!" That light inside, it filled Sam's entire being now, overflowing like a pipe without a release. That light grew and grew in intensity, becoming so potent inside of her that it burned Sam's flesh from the inside out. Light poured out of her eyes, white jets of flame burned out from between her teeth, and beneath her chest, it was like someone stuck the world's brightest lantern inside her.

Just a small piece of that flaming light rocketed into Sam's fist, but it was more than enough to cause white fire to fill her palm and swirl around her arm. In a single motion, Sam threw her fist forwards, socking Ivory square in the jaw with so much force it caused an explosion to ring out.

Howling, the Erinyes held the side of her face as radiance stung it, forever marring it. However, she was quick to get up again, snarling,

"You little shit! You think you can just interfere like this?! You have no right to even exist!" Again, she flew through the air at Sam, but this time, Sam intended to meet her. With a grunt, Sam crouched, and leaped into the air, both hands on her blade. She was on perfect trajectory to meet Ivory's blow. And although Sam's longsword was nonmagical, that glowing light extended outwards, spiraling into the blade and causing the material to crack from the intensity of the holy magic that filled it.

In that moment, though she was a sorcerer, Sam's heart sang like any true paladin's in an oath to make her parents proud, an oath of devotion. Not only that, but, like any good paladin, Sam had realized the full potential of her inner, divine light, and was bending it towards a singular purpose. She knew, in that moment, that she existed for one reason alone:

To Smite Evil.

The instant their weapons collided, there was a great cracking sound, as both immediately shattered, and the shockwave of their great clash caused several burned buildings to collapse in on themselves. Sam was thrown back, as was Ivory, with both of them falling to the ground as ruined fragments of metal scattered this way and that.

Sam scrambled to her feet, as did Ivory. Riley appeared from behind Sam, at that moment, with numerous men and women in white armor joining her, all bearing holy and magical weaponry. It seemed reinforcements had arrived. A magical song rang out as Riley healed Sam, and Ivory looked over all of them, now starting to back up. Suddenly, she stopped--she was held in place, a golden spell circle forming on the ground around her. One of the paladins was stood up straight, a hand outstretched towards Ivory.

At that moment, Sam saw an orcish man approach from behind Ivory, with orange-red armor and with a hammer in his hands. He looked between the Erinyes, and Sam, and when he looked at her...he nodded, then turned away and left. Not even Ivory's own reinforcements wanted anything to do with her. Sam snorted at the irony, before she focused in on the devil once more.

She had horror in her eyes, something Sam couldn't help but find joyous. Sam began walking toward her, but someone put a hand on her chest. Not Riley, but a tall, broad individual, built like a wall, and wearing bright white armor with a symbol of a woman with burning wings, dancing in a golden flame on the chestplate. One of the paladins--their leader?

"Hold," a woman's voice emerged from the helmet, "She's currently being held, and will soon be bound so she can't influence or hurt anyone ever again. More than that, she is worth more alive than she is dead. Whoever you are acquiring vengeance for would not, I think, want you to lose yourself to that vengeance. Do you?" Sam glared up at her, seething, then glanced between the individual and the beaten erinyes. The light inside of her slowly settled and quelled. She didn't see how everyone gave her a wide berth when the light was active, nor how it singed the paladin leader's cloak. Instead, she just sighed, closed her eyes and turned away, saying to the paladin leader,

"Fine, just...please get her out of my sight." She started to walk off, not even waiting for a reply, and a few moments later, Riley jogged up to join her. Sam felt drained, like a sudden drop off in her energy came over her. She took a moment to put together what she knew from what Ivory had said.

First, this scarf used to belong to a former devil called Bariel, who ascended, possibly to celestial status? Bariel put some of her power into her cloak, which, Sam could only assume, eventually became the scarf. Ivory was sent to retrieve the scarf, which, for some reason, was in the possession of the Cinderbrook family. Then, when it passed to Sam, it activated the inherent magic inside her, and through a combination of her own abilities, and, she suspected, the spirit of Bariel inside the scarf, Sam had been able to ward off Ivory, who those paladins seemed to have pretty well-in-hand.

Part of her suspected her family didn't want to be an adventurer to hide her from Ivory's pursuits. Ironically, her leaving saved her life. But, why, then, had her mom sent her the scarf...? Was it really just because she wanted her to have it...?

Sam focused. She needed to find out more about herself. About that order of paladins. About just who her family really was, but, more than any of that, she needed to affirm something, for herself.

"Hey," she said, "Riley?"

"Yeah?" Riley replied immediately, looking ready to do anything for her. Sam gave a soft grin,

"...I've decided. I want to be an adventurer. Not just so I can make my parents proud, though that's a big part of it," she looked down at her hands, and saw she was still holding the shattered hilt of the longsword, "but also for myself. I want to find out the mysteries of my family, but I also want to go on adventures so I can explore the world, and find out why I'm really here. For a moment, during the fight, I...I was so sure that that was where I belonged. That fighting Ivory, fighting against evil, it was exactly where I was supposed to be." After a moment, she looked up to ask, "And, uh...I know your last party ended badly, but, I...I'd really like it if you were there by my side while I figured this stuff out. What do you think?" Sam was terrified of her response.

Thankfully, Riley always did have trouble saying "no" to her. The elf simply smiled sweetly, and stopped to pull Sam into a tight hug as the armor faded from the sorcerer's body, and she hugged back, very tightly.

"...I think that's a really noble idea, Sam. Of course I'd love to help. Just, do me one favor?"

"Yeah?"

"No more fighting devils entirely on your own, okay? If I hadn't gotten those paladins' attention, we may have been in serious trouble." Sam let out a sigh, breathing in the smell of Riley's perfume, a smell that got her to relax almost instantly, as she laughed in response.

"I think I can do that, yeah...now, let's go home."

[thebenevolentvampire]

Full boat, Mr. du Lac.

[sketchyracoon]

Happy (very very late lol) Birthday to Danny Phantom.

I can't believe the show is 20 years old.

[lovealwayssay]

I would pay an ungodly amount of money for a Supernatural finale where Dean rescues Cas from the Empty and tells him he loves him too, Eileen comes back to be with Sam, and Jack chooses to live with the four of them in the bunker as a happy family.

[ardentpoop]

freak.

[kaleidoru]

He is SO ready for valentine's day

[that-fox-thing]

Did I ever mention he’s my favorite character? I really hope nothing bad happens to him!

[rainingcatsandjune]

i've been hyperfixating on sam for only a week after my friend introduced me to him but rahdfjksgsjdifgkfjgh kjfgsdfgh im so obsessed

i hope the fanbase on tumblr accepts these sam doodles

(the dentist one is what i made right after listening to sam's imperium audio ASHDAJHDF i have not watched the rest of imperium besides his video oml)

[solhunder]

Inktober Day 1: "Backpack"

First stop on the Team Phantom road trip: Indiana Dunes National Park!

Taking a plane would be a little complicated with Danny's current predicament, so Sam and Tucker opted for a more incognito - and coincidentally budget-friendly - approach to their month-long vacation: a National Parks Road Trip! (It's always been on Sam's bucket list, and Tucker is happy to go along for the ride, so long as the hikes are easy. Danny is just excited to go on a car ride!)

[aquarines]

second day of your period genuinely feels like this

[foldbaron]

Just a truly remarkable series of breathtakingly shitty rolls. I'm speechless. Like, this might be the WORST anyone has ever rolled in the entire history of CR.

I'd say it might be the best Matt's ever rolled, but he's been crushing it this campaign.

[sylseal]

Sam's Bad Day, Part 2 (D&D Fiction, ~5k words)

(Hi there! If you're new here, Part 1 can be found here. Thank you for reading, and i hope you enjoy!)

Henry Cinderbrook was considered many things; successful merchant, patron of the small town of Edelweiss, one of the most renowned hagglers in the business...

...But tonight, he did not feel as though "a good father" was among those titles.

Shoving a log into the stone fireplace and leaning on the mantle, the older man looked very much his age all of a sudden. Much was on the old merchant's mind this evening, not the least of which was the argument he'd had just last night with his only daughter.

"Where did I go wrong, Anna...?" He mumbled, looking up at the love of his life, sitting in her chair, just across from where his was sat. "...I could have sworn we had spoken with her about this so many times. She knew we would never approve of her becoming an adventurer. Is it any shock I reacted in the way I did?"

That look in his eyes, like he was a dog who had just been kicked; no matter how many years passed, Anna Cinderbrook never once managed to harden her heart to it. She closed her own eyes and thinned her lips to a line. After a moment of thought, she spoke.

"She is still, I think, discovering who she is. You're right, Hen, she ought to have known that we would never have approved, but... well, she has wanted this for so long. I think, after trying to make it work for so long, she deserves to know exactly why it can't work, deserves to see and experience it with her own eyes." Her old, wizened hands moved to a scarf in her lap, red and gold, one she had been meaning to give to Sam when she inherited the business. The scarf passed down from her mother, and her mother, and her mother before her. It was to belong to their little girl...

Only...she wasn't a little girl anymore. She was, by the legal definition, an adult. And, regardless of anything else she did, that meant she was supposed to have the scarf.

"And if she gets herself killed in the process?" Henry asked, frowning as his brow knit in worry.

"She won't." Anna chuckles and begins to roll the scarf up, "She'll get maybe one or two jobs in, feel the hunger of being without food for a day or two, then she'll come back to us. I promise you that much. In the meantime..." she motioned to a set of parchment paper nearby, "Hand me that, would you? I had been meaning to give her this in any event, and this way, it will be a reminder that we still care about her and love her."

Henry nodded, and did as requested, handing her the parchment. Wrapping the scarf and tying it together with some nearby twine, before handing it to her husband. "Take this to the postmaster's office, have him send it over so she gets it in the morning." Henry gave a soft nod, staring down at it.

"...I hope she'll be alright."

"She will be," Anna put her hand on his arm, and he gave her a smile. "Remember, Hen, she is still our daughter. There was once a time when you and I considered adventuring, remember?"

"I know." That, primarily, was what made him so stalwartly against her becoming one. They had been down that road. They had seen party members slain in front of them. They did not want that for her, but she could not understand that, it seemed, without seeing it herself.

But, with any luck, it would turn out as Anna hoped. Quietly, Henry put on his coat and hat, and went outside, with no real way of knowing that this night would be his last.

-----

"Sam," Henry smiled, calling the little girl (who was no older than twelve at this time) closer to him. "See this?" he was holding up one of his shirts, which had a hole in the arm about the size of Sam's tiny fist. Bright-eyed and eager to learn, Sam nodded and listened as her father explained.

"This is something we can't have in our outfits, understand? So, today, I'm going to teach you to repair it, sound good?" That was one of those rhetorical questions parents asked, where they knew the answer was yes. Still, Sam nodded with a tiny 'uh-huh!' "Alright," her father beamed, "Now, first, we're going to need some thread and a needle; for this example, I have some here," he produced just that, a spool of thread and a sewing needle.

"Now," he handled both to Sam, who carefully took them, "Careful with the needle, but do you see the little hole in one end?" She blinked and, as carefully as she could without stabbing her hand, she picked up the needle, and squinted at it.

"Uhhhh..." she pursed her lips, "I...think so? Yeah! Yeah I see it, dad."

"Good. Now what you want to do," he hums, "Is first pull some of the string from the spool you have there," he points to the spool, from which Sam began to pull immediately. "Not too much, not too much...there we are." His eyes flicked back up to hers, to draw her attention to him, "The hole isn't very big, you see, so we don't need very much thread. Now, you want to take it," he made a motion with his hands, first bringing the backs of his middle-joints of his fingers together, and then pulling them apart suddenly, starting from the top, "and do this, to break the string off once you have enough. Can you do that for me?"

Nodding, Sam sat down with her father shortly joining her, placed the needle (carefully) on her knee, and took the string in both of her hands, like her father showed her. At first, she couldn't quite get it to snap, and she let out a little yelp as her fingers began to sting from the effort.

"Ow-ow-ow..." she whined, but her father chuckled and pat her on the shoulder,

"That was a good effort, try again. Try to get a good, solid grip on it this time, that'll make it easier to break." Sam gave him a curious look, as though saying "will this really work?"

But, of course, she tried it again, keeping a firm grip in mind, and was surprised to find that the string snapped easily. Her fingers still stung, though, but she didn't vocalize that. Instead, she just blinked incredulously at the snapped string, as though it were magical somehow.

"There you are," Henry grins, gently taking back the spool of thread, "Good job! Now, we take the string, and even it out. See how the one side of your string--the side you pulled through the needle--is really short?" Sam, deciding she'd figure out the mysteries of breaking the string later, looked up at him again, and then looked at the string, and nodded. Instinctively, she reached for the ends of the string, and made it so both sides were the same height.

"Thatta girl," Henry grins, "Now, tie a knot in the end of it. You remember how to do that from our lessons on knots, right?"

Nodding, Sam did as her father requested, tying a knot in the end. Eventually, however, her curiosity got the better of her,

"Why?"

"What's that, sunshine?"

"Tying a knot in the end--why are we doing that?"

"Ah," he grins, "Well, that's so the string can't just fall right through the holes we make in the outfit. Trust me, it'll be easier to show you, I promise." Confused, but trusting, Sam nodded and finished with the knot.

"Okay--now what?"

"Now, we actually repair it. So, take your needle..." Sam picked it up, and her father brought the shirt hole over, "and--you see how the parts where the hole is are folded over? Start at the end, where it joins together, here," he pointed, "and push your needle in...and then quickly back up, along the fold. I'll show you how to do the first one, then you can take over, alright?"

"Mhm." Sam grunted in agreement, handing her father the needle and watching him expectantly. He proceeded to push the needle through the fold, then back up through it again.

"Just like that," he held it up to show her, "Now," he handed the needle and string back, "you want to do the same thing, but from the other side, alright?" A nod, and Sam attempted to do what her father had. Pushing the needle down...and then...back up-

"Ow!" She gasped, retracting her left hand as though something bit her, and shaking it out.

"Hmhm, here," Henry held out his hand, "Let me see." Sam showed him her hand, and Henry smiled brightly. "No blood drawn. Just a little love poke from the needle to remind you to be careful with it, okay?" Reassured by her father's calmness, Sam nodded and smiled in kind.

"Okay. Let me see if I can do it again!" she grinned, as if the needle had just challenged her, and she was accepting.

Henry's heart brimmed with joy when he saw that expression on her face.

"Now," he instructs as Sam's attention focuses back on the needle, which was partially poked through the hole pointing up, "pull it through, and do the same on the other side like before, over and over until you're at the end of the hole."

Sam got to work, pulling the needle up through the hole; then down through, then up through, going along the folds, alternating sides, being careful not to stab herself again. when, at last, she reached the end, her father grinned, "Now comes the fun part. Pull the needle out and away from the hole." Sam gave him a confused expression.

"But," she began, "isn't it attached..?" then, realization hit her. "Ohhhh! Wait! I think I see!" Grinning, she pulled the needle, and the stitch suddenly came together, and it looked nearly invisible at that.

To little Sam, it was like magic.

"Yes! I was right," she laughs, looking up at her dad proudly, "That's so cool how it almost looks like it isn't there! How'd you learn this stuff, dad?"

"Well," Henry hums, "Two things. First, we're not done yet, you still have to break off the string at the end and tie a knot there, too--and secondly, I picked it up-" he almost admitted that he got it from the Merchants' Guild in Veldin, but memories of Sam saying she wanted to travel to the big city and be an adventurer when she was older swirled in his head, and so instead he came up with an equally plausible excuse, "-from your mother, funnily enough. She's an amazing seamstress."

"Really? Huh," Sam blinks, none the wiser as she picks up the string and breaks it off, letting out another grunt of complaint as her fingers stung again. "Ow! W-will that always hurt like that?"

"Not always," her father assures her, holding out his hand, "but it will until you build up calluses. Needle, please, and don't forget the knot."

"Calluses?" Sam put the needle in her father's hand and tilted her head, even as she worked on the knot. When it was done, both of them stood up. Henry continued to explain,

"You know how my hands are hard in certain spots? That's because those spots have had pressure applied to them over and over, and over time, the body has recognized that if it doesn't want those places to hurt, it needs to have harder skin there. Hence...calluses."

"Huh...so, kind of like armor for your fingers?" Sam asked, idly fiddling with the stitch, just feeling it and how weird it was.

"Oh, they can form anywhere on the body. But yeah, kind of like armor for your limbs. Don't worry, you'll get some eventually once you've done enough stitches like those. Now, enough about that. Go take the shirt inside and show your mother your good work, she'll be proud of you. Then we'll grab some lunch, huh?"

"Okay!" She beamed, "Thanks dad. I love you!"

He had this knowing, caring smile on his face, like his heart just melted.

"I love you too, sunshine."

-----

Sam awoke feeling like garbage.

Not physically, mind you. Physically, she was fine. But, mentally? Mentally, she just wanted to crawl into a hole and not come out. At least the bed was soft.

She sat up slowly, looking around the room. It was a simple thing, a space no bigger than thirty feet by thirty feet, a little loft with one side open to the rest of the house, with a railing so one could overlook it. The door to the stairs was on the far right corner from Sam, and an endtable was beside her bed, with a wardrobe on the far left side of the room. The floor was hardwood, but beneath that was some sort of sturdy stone. At the very least, Sam didn't feel as though she was in danger of falling through anytime soon. Hanging from the middle of the loft ceiling was a simple lantern attached to the roof by a chain, removable for being refilled.

Of course, all the sights paled in comparison to the amazing smell that wafted up from downstairs, a smell that Sam felt very very guilty about. Rubbing sleep from her eyes, Sam put herself together enough to not look nearly as bad as she had yesterday, and made her way downstairs.

As she came downstairs, the area opened first into a living room, with a couch and two chairs on either side, all facing a fireplace on the same wall as the entrance to the staircase. Of course, sitting in front of the couches and the fireplace was a collection of boxes and suitcases that had yet to be unopened.

On the far right corner of the living room as Sam came down was the front door. The rest of the wooden far wall was blank, likely meant to be until someone decorated it. On the left as Sam came down the stairs was a small kitchen, with a fire pit in the center and some kind of stew bubbling.

"Morning," hummed Riley's familiar voice as the elf looked up from the soup, and their eyes met, "you look like you slept well at least."

"I did, yeah," Sam smiled sheepishly, "Thank you for breakfast. You...didn't have to, but I really appreciate it." She approached, and Riley rolls her eyes, deciding she's allowed to be flippant,

"Oh please. If I hadn't, what were you going to do? You don't exactly seem like you're overloaded with coin, you know."

"That's..." Sam blushed and approached, "A fair point, and true. But, change of subject--how's the soup coming? It smells fantastic."

"So far so good! Some veggies that one of the farmers owed me, cut up and thrown in the pot, combined with some mystery meat-" she noted Sam's scowl, and giggled, "Don't worry, it's actually pieces of chicken. Anyhow, threw all of it in a pot, added some seasoning, there you go. Breakfast!" She made a motion as though she was expecting applause, and Sam giggled.

"Breakfast indeed. Thanks, Ri," she said again, either not realizing she said it before or not caring.

"Of course. And uh," Riley got a serious face on, and Sam tried not to let it show that she knew what was coming, and was bracing for impact. "How...are you?"

"...I'm okay," Sam lies with a soft sigh, "Just going through it. I'll be better when I have something to do that will make my hands busy. What time is it?"

"About eight or nine in the morning. You're going to have your hands busy, don't worry--busy with unloading boxes, that is. We're not doing anything until that mess," she motioned to the pile of nebulous stuff that was Sam's in the center of the living room, "Is all unloaded and those boxes are put away someplace."

Sam wanted to argue, but her stomach roared for food, and after all Riley had done... a soft smile came to her face, and she nodded,

"Yeah, yeah, okay. You're right. Thanks, Ri. If nothing else, it'll give me time to think. What are you up to today? I don't expect for you to stay the whole time," or at all, but she didn't vocalize that part.

"Well, I've got a debriefing with the Adventurers' Guild at eleven, a performance at two, a bar night with my previous party--or what's left of them--at five, and...other than that, I think I'm free as a bird, so I'll probably see you tonight?"

A part of Sam wanted to get upset with Riley for not helping her unpack, wasn't she supposed to be her best friend? That part, however, was choke-slammed into the darkest corners of Sam's mind so fast it barely got the thought into her head before she smothered it. Smirking and nodding in approval, Sam instead decided to be a bit of a shit to get Riley back for that "you look like shit" comment the previous night.

"Got it, sounds good. Don't worry, I'm sure whoever you're performing for loves the sound of a dying rat." Riley rolls her eyes in response, but the way her lip quirked up at the corner suggested she didn't disapprove. She retorted,

"You know, you're lucky I don't need to sleep, or you'd get the couch."

"Oh, really?" Sam's smirk suddenly turns genuine and soft, and she warmly replies, "Guess that makes me extraordinarily lucky to have a friend like you then, for you to do all this for me and let me have the bed." Riley's eyes widened, but her own expression quickly turned into something like...appreciation, maybe? She was hard to read, sometimes.

"Oh, stop, Sam. You would have done the same for me, and you know it. And if this is your way of apologizing for last night, don't do that either, okay? Trust me, I know what it's like to have a bad night. I mean it when I say it's no sweat, and you'd have done the same were our positions reversed." Not giving Sam time to rebuttle her argument, Riley's brows rose and she said,

"Now, first breakfast, then boxes. Grab some bowls from that cabinet, would you?" She pointed up to one of the wooden cabinets, and Sam, deciding it was better to let this topic go, did as ordered.

Inside, though, Riley's words helped her heart feel just a little bit warmer than it had before.

-----

As the sun went down over the town of Edelweiss, a kind of cold unease spread over the town. The kind of anxiety that always came right before a terrible disaster.

The kind of anxiety that, in this case, proved correct. The sounds of thundering footfalls echoed, one could see a dust cloud forming off in the distance, like one might see with a small army of riders. On top of that, the howls of wargs echoed in the air. And if there were wargs...

One of the guards sounded the town's alarm system. Along with the ringing of bells, there came one word from the terrified watchtower.

"ORC RAIDERS!"

-----

When Sam saw the postman deliver a package that had the label "To Sam, From Mom and Dad" on it, Sam didn't know what to do with it. She was still in the midst of unpacking at the time, and on top of that, she didn't feel like she had the emotional strength to process it. So, instead, she just put it on the kitchen counter, then got back to work on the boxes. She'd deal with it in a minute.

However, even after she finished unpacking all her things, and she set the package down in front of her on the coffee table in the living room, she simply sat on the couch and stared at it.

Minutes passed, indicated by the ticking of the clock hanging on the wall. Sam's fingers felt along one another and idly picked at her nails as she lost herself in thought. She almost felt afraid of the tiny package before her, as though it were a wild animal that would bite her if she got too close. The sun had just set, so theoretically she could put it off until morning, but she'd need to open the thing up eventually. Or not. She could throw it out too, but...she didn't want to do that. She also didn't want to open it, because of what emotions it would bring flooding out, that she already only just got a handle on. So, she was stuck.

She was grateful to hear Riley's voice as the bard opened the front door.

"HELLOOO-oh. You're right here. I'd have thought you'd be napping." She grins, and Sam side-eyes her,

"You'd...have entered by waking me up from a nap?"

"You slept all last night!" Riley rolled her eyes, kicking the door closed behind her, "Besides, I got paid today, figured you'd want to know, since that money's yours too now."

Sam didn't quite understand how it was that Riley went from "helping you move" to "your unofficial roommate," but she wasn't about to look a gift elf in the mouth. Especially when said elf was a sweetheart and just got paid.

"What's that?" Riley motioned to the package, prompting Sam to take a deep breath before answering, kind of sheepishly,

"I don't...know, exactly." She looked back to the package, mostly to avert her eyes from Riley's gaze. "Gift from mom and dad. Dunno why. If there's a note, it's in the wrapping, and I'm...kind of scared to open it. Feelings and all that."

"Feelings do suck, sometimes. But uh, friendly word of advice?" Sam's eyes refocused on Riley again. She'd now put a hand on her hip, and was carrying a pouch of coin in her free hand (Sam could tell from the clinking). Sam nodded,

"Go for it."

"Don't open it tonight," Riley explained, "Sleep on it. Something like this is rarely the sort of thing you want to jump the arrow on. If you're ready in the morning, go ahead and open. If not...we'll figure out where to stash it tomorrow."

It was, truthfully, the sensible thing to do. Biting her lower lip, Sam nodded and stood up. Finally, she let go of that breath she'd been holding in.

"Okay. I...will let it go until the morning, at least." Doing her best to drag herself out of the uncertain funk that package had put her in, Sam clapped her hands together and beamed as brightly as she could manage. "Now! Let's talk dinner! You'll actually be fairly proud of me. I managed to cook something that didn't taste terrible!"

"Oh, this I gotta see," Riley grins, following Sam to the kitchen...

------

Commander Sarghun was exhausted.

He sat upon a chair in the remains of a ruined house, a house that had belonged to the only people in this tiny town who had put up the most fight...which wasn't very much. Ivory had called this place 'Edelweiss.' A pretty town name, and one that Sarghun was displeased he had to stain with blood. Were he not here on business, his clan wouldn't be caught dead butchering a place like this.

The head of his warhammer sat against the ground, and he spun it by the pommel over and over, grinding tooth against tusk in thought. His long, salt-and-pepper hair was pulled back, braided close to his head and woven with gemstones, each one symbolizing a different victory over a great enemy. Scars, of course, littered his body, as did the beginning signs of advancing age. In short, he was the very picture of a proud orcish warrior and leader; tall, broad-chested, covered in bright armor and carrying a warhammer which had become his signature. Yet, tonight, Sarghun felt disquieted...

He was suddenly brought out of his thoughts by the sound of screaming. Wailing. Sarghun shuddered; he hated this part of the process. Long had the Irontusk Clan prospered under his leadership, but at times, that meant he had to endure things that he felt no one, neither man nor orc, should have to endure. One of those things was having to listen to the howls of parents and children mourning one another. From where he sat, the door was ripped off its hinges, so he could see directly out into the town square. The image there was one of many that stuck in his head, seared there as if a divine punishment from Gruumsh himself.

Five men and women, elderly, weak people, sat bound and gagged in the square, while over them stood their client: Ivory, the marble-white Erinyes. She held a hooked knife in her one hand, while her clawed gauntlet was gripping one rather mouthy old man by the shirt (Henry-something, wasn't it?). She looked as though she was about ready to disembowel him.

Standing, Sarghun decided he wanted to hear this particular conversation. The other orcs standing guard all snapped to attention as he walked out to join them.

"I will ask again," Ivory hissed, eyes wide and bloodshot, "And this time, you will answer, human. Where. Is. The Relic?" Each word of that question was punctuated by another slash, first across Henry's chest, then gut, then his chest again. That little old man's shirt was becoming more blood than fabric at this point.

"I-" Henry coughed blood as tears trailed down his face, "I have no idea what you're--talking about...!"

"Lies," Ivory snarled, and she prepared to mutilate him further. This had gone on for the better part of two hours now, and the raiders were beginning to shift uncomfortably from a combination of boredom, exhaustion, or both. It was time for this to come to an end.

"Enough," Sarghun sighs, prompting Ivory to stop and look over at him. "This is a waste of time, Ivory; mine and yours. Your artifact is not here."

"But it was, Sarghun; I can still smell its light. It could not have been any more than a day since it was last here. We're so close," she began, and Sarghun let out an aggravated sigh.

"Even if it was, it is here no longer, and I doubt these people," he motioned to them, "The weak and the elderly, know very well where it went off to. Had you sought answers, we might have interrogated the guards...had you not killed them all first." Sarghun's irritation with his employer bubbled to the surface, but he quickly realized, in looking to his men, the mistake there, and so shifted paths. "Regardless, it is not here, but you can still smell it, which means we have a trail that leads away from here. If it is destruction you crave," he motions to the smoldering ruins around them, "then finish leveling the town, and let us be done for the evening."

For a moment, as Ivory stood up and released Henry, Sarghun thought she was going to attack him. That fire in her eyes was only something Sarghun had very rarely seen in people, and it was never a good sign. Still, his words must have placated her, because she wiped her gauntlets clean of gore and said,

"...Very well, Sarghun." She rolled her eyes, and added, "We will have to continue searching as we have been, then, and your payment, once again, shall be delayed." Sarghun growled, an act that Ivory caught. An act Sarghun knew was meant to make him upset. Thankfully for her, Ivory was quick to add, "...But make no mistake, we are close, Sarghun. I promise you, once i have the relic safely in my care, you will not have to concern yourself with material wealth ever again. You will have all the coin and riches you deserve and then some. This, I swear upon our contract."

Sarghun grunted in reply, before looking to the other orcs and speaking in orcish,

"Brothers, return to your wargs. We are finished with this place. The devil will do as she wishes. Eat well tonight, for our hunt is not yet over." Some of the men groaned in disappointment, but Sarghun knew they would follow his command. He turned and began to walk to where they had stashed their wargs.

Somehow, the Erinyes' promises of wealth did little to reassure his unease.

-----

Have you ever been kissed by the Sun?

Sam hadn't, until she went to sleep that night.

She was floating, in a dreamy, watery ocean of calm feelings and gentle tides. Then, out of nowhere, she felt something else in the space with her--something that was golden, blindingly bright, and beautiful beyond comprehension. Something that gently cupped her face and kissed the top of her head, prompting Sam to just shut her eyes and shudder in joy. Warmth filled her from head to toe, and she felt words appear in her mind.

BURN BRIGHTLY, AND MAY VICTORY BE YOURS.

The words surged in Sam's mind, and she felt herself mumble them in repetition. The presence with her smiled, warm and shining, and it repeated the words. Sam did the same, and it became a cycle, until they were all she felt. The words pervaded everything she was, and warm, glowing lights sprouted first from her fingertips, then her eyes, and her mouth. Even her very soul swirled with light, pulsing rhythmically until the presence whispered something else.

EVERYTHING YOU NEED IS ALREADY WITHIN YOU. LET IT BLOSSOM.

Suddenly, that intense light in Sam's soul bellowed out of her in a great wave, filling her with newfound power. It was unlike anything she had ever felt before; it was so strong. Briefly, Sam wondered if this was what love felt like...

...And then she was suddenly ripped from her dream by yelling.

-----

Riley burst upstairs and shouted,

"Sam! Wake up, right now! Edelweiss has been attacked!"

Sam shot up and practically scrambled out of bed.

Out of the frying pan, into the fire.

[spicyet]

What are you looking for here? Scroll back up.

Just kidding, here’s a treat:

[sammygender]

wrt prev post and sam’s original ‘fed demon blood by azazel as a baby’ arc like. actually that was the most insane thing to see depicted on my television especially when it seemed like no one else i knew or followed was talking about it. it felt so explicit and yet it was sooo deep in metaphor. she walked in on us. sammy, you’re my favourite. god it must be terrible to know something happened but that you’ll never be able to remember it or tell anyone about it. never be able to rip it out or scrub it clean. so azazel could get into my nursery and- bleed in my mouth? because i wasn’t clean. these trials - they’re purifying me. anyway. augh

[piowasthere]

so imma be honest

i don't like this.

but imma post it anyway bc... well- it's kinda already made-

and ik there's gonna be someone out there that's gonna turnsie over it so might as well

[flowersintheimpala69]

“It’s not abusive for him to beat his brother’s ass for fucking shit up” sorta sounds like “It’s not abusive for Dean to hit Sam when sam makes a mistake” which sorta sounds like “if Sam wasnt such a fuck up Dean wouldn’t hit him, so it’s Sam’s fault” WHAATTTT

look I do believe Sam & Dean’s relationship is too nuanced to label Dean as wholly “abusive” but this take is so crazy to me like do you HEAR urself??

I’m so inarticulate but this IS weird right???