#and especially fuck you linda. you are a grown ass woman.

[lovekenney]

Mandy , Lip , mickey , and Linda didn't do shit when Ian was having sex with an adult while Ian was what ? 14 - 15 ? how long had they been having sex? four people knew. four! and none of them did anything.

[devilsknotrp]

Congratulations, Meredith! You have been accepted for the role of Ariadne Guzman (FC: Odette Annable). Ariadne is an interestingly positioned character. She could easily be written as a passive love interest for Mike... or as an active member of the police force. Your application made it clear where she stood: and it’s on her own two feet. You said it so well in that she is firm in her convictions and who she is. Ariadne is clumsy and well-meaning and entirely endearing, and that came across so well in your application. You have an ear for her character and it was a true delight to read your interpretation of her. Thank you for such a great application! Please have a look at this page prior to sending in your account.

OUT OF CHARACTER

Name: Meredith Age: 18 Pronouns: They/them Timezone: EST Activity estimation: In the summertime (so, now!) I am extremely active, posting probably every other day, though I will make an attempt for every day. I’m starting college in the fall, so that adjustment might put a bit of a damper on that, but I’ll maintain posting as often as I can. I have no issue staggering posts out so I’m still on the dash, even if I prefer to post all my replies at the same time. Triggers: REDACTED

IN CHARACTER: BASICS

Full name: Ariadne Rose Guzman Age (DD/MM/YYY): 11/24/1967. Sagittarius sun, Leo moon. Gender: Cisgender Female Pronouns: She/her Sexuality: Bisexual Occupation: Police Officer Connection to Victim: Blurry television screens and terrifying accusations only bring back memories of the horrors of ‘84 — and that’s what primarily fuels her determination to bring Brian home. Simply imagining all the horrors that happened, but instead to a little boy is enough to make her stomach turn. Ariadne knows Linda vaguely from church, mostly from chatting the other woman’s ear off after presenting a particularly shitty cherry pie at a church potluck. Alibi: Ariadne was on the job when Brian went missing. It made things more horrifying and more real, but she’s grateful that it’s solid. She knows what kind of paranoia small towns cook up after trauma like this. Faceclaim: Odette Annable, Shay Mitchell, and then the original face claim of Natalee Linez.

WRITING SAMPLE

Shit. Fuck. Shit. Shit, fuck. She’s halfway through the train of expletives, mind moving erratically — like a wonky washing machine in a seedy laundromat, thunk thunk thunking against her skull, or television static after a particularly nasty rainstorm knocks out the cable — when she remembers why exactly her alarm clock is losing it’s shit at such an early hour. Church. Well, perhaps early isn’t the best word for the situation, even considering the time at which Sunday service began was still in the single digits. Not early; Ariadne is indisputably late. She knows it well the whirs and chirps and blaring of the three clocks she has stationed around her room all reminding her oh-so-sweetly. She’s always been a heavy sleeper, especially with the sheer amount of glass bottles that line her recycling bins. Sam Adams, Pete’s Wicked Ale, Coors. It’s something reminiscent of a baby cooing and falling asleep with drool trailed across plump cheeks, after his bottle, the way she curls up under the blankets in the fetal position after three or four or five ( it’s not five often, she’d swear on it ) of her favorite brew. There’s even a raggedy looking plush dog, with worn patches in his fur and an eye gone rogue somewhere between toddlerdom and childhood, that she keeps in the corner of her room. Too grown to sleep with it, too nostalgic to tuck it — even if him is the pronoun the mind conjures, one can hardly forget all the details of childhood stuffed animal lore — away somewhere far from here. It gets lonely in her apartment. But she’d headed to church, not Sunday school, damnit, and she’s going to act like it.

Speedily, hopefully, and though she rams her funny bone against the headboard as she makes a spastic attempt to slam the first alarm button as she yanks off pajama pants. She hops on one leg, half to mitigate the pain, or at least let herself think she’s doing so. Hobbling now, to the second —— aaand, the other half of her reasoning is left in a crumpled lump on the floor. I’ll pick them up later, she thinks, as she hunts for dress pants. A skirt, maybe. Should she wear a skirt? Fuck, does she need to shower? She yanks long brown locks in front of her face for a moment, inhaling deeply. Still smells like mango, her arm through it still smells like Dove soap and dollar store shampoo. No one could say she wasn’t distinct.

Third alarm is slammed off, and sweet, sweet silence fills the apartment once more. Other than the clank of pipes, of course, and she shakes away thoughts of ghost stories she tells herself when she wants to be too terrified to sleep. Criminals, she could deal with, but Casper the Ghost was pushing it. Skirt, skirt, skirt … “ Make an effort to look nice, Ariadne. ” Words are mumbled, and it takes a moment for brain to measure up with scattered thoughts and realise she’s talking aloud to herself. Great. Something fluttery and pale blue that ends at her knees is snatched off a hanger that looks terribly lonely in her closet, and she feels like a school girl as white blouse is added and respectively tucked in as neatly as she can muster. There’s no time for makeup – thankfully, she absolutely despises wearing it — or doing her hair, which she doesn’t mind so much. Hopefully not a rat’s nest. A single yank of the string dangling from crooked blinds, and she sees that the sky matches the cardigan she yanks on in hue. Dress shoes are pulled on, and she knows she’ll get a blister along with the dirty looks from a church elder or two for legs not clad in pantyhoes. Keys, keys, keys — deodorant, a swipe under each arm — keys, keys, keys.

She’s out the door now, and never more has she wished to feel sunshine on her skin. But, she only only gets overcast, and in spite of it, she skips two steps at a time down the back of the building. Cramped in spite of beautiful hardwood floors and a relatively spacious kitchen — relatively being she could turn around in it and not smack her ass against a hot stove, the apartment doesn’t really feel like home. Not yet anyway. Home. That’s a concept, that, to Ariadne at least, exists somewhere in the mythical sphere between familiar and intangibly distant. The way she’d grown up, at least, of dress collars stiffened with cornstarch and staring out bedroom window at the blinking of city lights in the distance, wishing she was doing something — that didn’t quite feel like home either. She loved her parents, she did, is how she would explain it when offering too much information, but in the same way a zookeeper might like an elephant before it sits on their chest and suffocates them to death. Time spent in Devil’s Knot still felt like a vacation. A novelty, really, some shitty tchotchke that ended up breaking the moment you vaguely manhandled it. But the illusion of small town community hadn’t shattered yet, not under hands delicate even through callouses. Nothing could, only time itself wearing down the sheen. But for now, things were bright and real and good, crisp September air shirking off summer humidity on that Sunday morning. There was a buzz of possibility — or maybe it was just anxiety at the thought of bursting through church doors too late to not interrupt the hymns.

Maybe that buzzing was what home was.

ANYTHING ELSE?

I made a pinterest board for Ariadne here, and a playlist here. Both are constantly in progress, as right now they’re looking a little sparse.

BACKGROUND / THE STORY SO FAR

Religion was always a part of Ariadne’s life, but it didn’t fall into her lap quite so perfectly until she was in Devil’s Knot. She grew up going to a stuffy church every Sunday, with old men half asleep in the pews and slow, heavy hymns that didn’t exactly put the joy of the Lord into her heart. Sunday school was a drag, and her mind was always moving far too quickly for her to pay attention. Why does God make bad things happen? She asked her mother one day, after a collection plate had been filled with sweaty fistfuls of coins and crumpled one dollar bills at the revelation that someone in the congregation had cancer. God doesn’t, her mother said sternly, giving the meat she was tenderizing another smack. Ariadne jumped. People do.

Ariadne never believed that, though, not for a long time. Not until she was seventeen, and her parent’s mumbled words by the television set caught her attention. Murder. Gruesome as could be. She could feel the sinking in her belly of anger, at the cruelty and callousness of the situation. It was in that moment she vowed — she wanted to make a change in the world. She wanted life to not be so cruel. She followed each word of the trial with rigid attention, praying a resolution would be found. And then she saw Max Acosta’s face, and her mother’s words rang true in her mind. People do. People were not a supernatural force, nor an unstoppable one. People — people she could fix.

Being a cop specifically isn’t what she’s always dreamed of — it’s helping people. Ariadne’s people skills, empathy, and desire for change had her toying with the idea of becoming a therapist for a while, but she’s never been particularly focused. The idea of sitting around all day, only using her words … it didn’t feel like enough. Still confused and lost as to how she could possibly make a difference, Ariadne lurked around the local community college for two years, taking enough classes to get an associate’s degree in psychology. The scientific parts bored her, but one class caught her interest particularly well. The Psychology of The Criminal Mind. She knew then that this, that becoming a cop, was what she was meant to do. She didn’t have to save people — she could protect them.

Moving to Devil’s Knot was an easy decision. If there was one thing Ariadne craved, it was connection. People. And a small town, one with a shitty diner and church picnics and the trial that started it all … it just felt right to her. Weren’t those the people that most needed protecting? People who had already been burned? From her tiny apartment, Ariadne poured over police manuals, pushing herself through the academy and finally, finally becoming a trainee officer. Now that she’s in full force ( ha! ) at the force, she’s lost none of her shine or enthusiasm for what she’s doing. She’s certainly not a kiss-ass, because it’s all painfully genuine. She really does want to work more hours, she really doesn’t mind the extra paperwork. Anything that needs to be done, she’ll do it. It’s just what’s right.

HEADCANONS

She doesn’t mean to be a shameless flirt, it’s just how she comes off. She’s bright and she’s funny and she’s warm, and a cheesy smile or a hand placed on a shoulder only comes from that place of kindness. Banter rolls off her tongue easily, and compliments are always genuine. She’s been like this for as far as she could remember — fourteen and charming the wits of all the boys in the freshman class. That mouth’s gonna get you in trouble one day. Her father told her then, through a half baked smile and the reeking stench of whiskey as he ruffled her hair, even though Ariadne thought she was far too old to have her hair ruffled.

Ariadne has always had to work harder than other people. Her mind just doesn’t seem to focus right. That’s part of the reason she’s so meticulous when it comes to police work, the same way she was with assignments throughout her school years. Room is always messy, clothes mostly untucked and never quite ironed properly, but she’s a marvel when it comes to facts and evidence. She likes to let people believe it’s all natural, but the amount of time she’s pulled all nighters perfecting things because everything else is just too interesting for her to focus is more than she can count.

As friendly as she is, Ariadne is not a people pleaser. Firm in her convictions and quick to spout them, shutting her mouth isn’t something she knows how to do. More often than not, these can turn into arguments — though as anyone that’s spent more than an hour with her can tell you, any spat with Ariadne is brief, because forgiving and forgetting is just a part of her personality. She’s always ready to go back to being best friends, and start the cycle over the next time you disagree with her — realistically, the next day.

No one is a worse chef than Ariadne Guzman. Except, well, she doesn’t know it. She tries, always, but she’s the type of person to burn water. Chicken comes out uncooked in the middle, pasta falls apart into mush as soon as you twirl it on a fork, cookies and cakes are burnt and runny, respectively. But she still shows up wherever she’s invited with something disgusting that she’s deemed her new specialty. Suspiciously, after the response, her specialty is never cooked again. Following instructions isn’t exactly her forté when lives aren’t on the line, so it’s not really a shock to anyone but her things turn out badly.

Ariadne loves holidays. Something about not doing much outside of her family as a child, Christmas and Easter and Thanksgiving and even Halloween were always huge celebrations for her as a child. She has spirit for everything, and is the best gift giver in all of Michigan. Even though it’s a rarity that anyone sees it, her apartment is decorated as neatly as she can muster for each of them, and she never complains when stores break out their decorations a bit too early. Don’t you feel the spirit in the air?

[c-rankin93]

Uncle Archie Knows Best

A/N: so me being the anti-social person i am, decided to troll Tumblr. When i came across THIS lovely post about MMFD prompts, and i haven't done a prompt for many moons.. soo.. i wrote this in about an hour, because of my 'shes no you' multi chapter creation. so hope you like it even if its just thrown together and i though id just add the tag list to my other Fic.

Runs and Hides now... Because i dont even know where this came from!

Archibald at your service...

Now let me tell you a story, a fickle little shrine to two people I love dearly. A story so pleasantly surprising you'll be wondering 'what happens next?' You've seen Rae's point of view, and maybe even Finn's, but have you viewed it from the outside looking in?

I can read Finn better then a poem written by Shakespeare himself, and Rae let's just say hostility and regret can never be covered by a sarcastic joke. Her facial expression tell a story of their own, I just so happen to be a fantastic Explorer. Summer of '96, currently 3 days, 7 hours and 19 minutes ago was the last time I had seen or heard from either Rae or Finn. Which was incredibly odd because I ALWAYS get the one moody phone call from Rae everyday, telling me to get my arse moving and to meet her at the pub. Oblivious to the time she's calling, which would be tethering on lunchtime. And I, being the early riser I am would already be wide awake and on my 3rd cup of peppermint tea. Finn on the other hand would just levitate around, half the time fading into the background by the jukebox until it was time to see Olivia. Olivia, Finn's new prized possession. The 24 year old business women that seemingly found a newly fresh 17 year old attractive enough to date. And if Finn's docile smiles have any indications, he really didn't know what she saw either. That stupid boy jumped head first into a pile of his own shit, when he got involve with Olivia. I know why he did it though, Rae hurt him that night she broke up with him. He wasn't stupid, he had heard the rumours about Liam and Rae. The kiss. The fight. He wasn't even keen to go on the date in the first place, but he walked outta the pizza place with a new girlfriend. Coincidence? Yeah, your probably right. So what happens when Uncle Archie knocks some sense into a dim witted Finn Nelson? Nothing. You know why? Because they hadn't contacted me in 3 days! No 'thank yous' or 'Fuck yous', just a whole lot of silence. My mind maybe a little fuzzy, my alcohol ingestion that night was more then I'm willing to disclose. But I do remember what I said to Finn outside the pub after Rae made a dramatic, but also quite hilarious exit... (Fades off into a memory. Woooohooo *spooky fingers*) "Finn, a word. Outside?" My eyes gravite towards the gang; who are still wondering 'what just happened?' Before they land on the boy in question. He too looked a little put out, but agreed to talk. Finn kissed Olivia's cheek quickly, then trailed after me into the bellow freezing temperatures of a summers night in Stamford. We huddled close together around the side of the pub, away from prying ears. He kept looking around, trying to see what direction Rae sprinted off to and when he saw her fading figure he frowned. "What the bloody hell were you thinking Finn!" I pointed an accusing finger at him and shoved it into his chest multiple times. "Wot?" He replied, defending himself from my unslaught. "What do you think your doing bring Olivia to the pub? Especially when you know Rae will be there!" This boy was smarter then he looked. He knew exactly what he had done tonight, he brang Olivia to show everyone he had moved on. He just had no idea that was the topic I chose to broach with him tonight, we'll until now. "I didn't do anythin' wrong Arch. Liv wanted to meet you all tonight, especially 'Cause she knew Rae was there. She wanted to get to know everyone." I swear gay men are the only smart creatures on this planet. "You twat! She was sizing up the completion! 'Oh Rae how lovely to meet you, Finn talks soo much about you'" I spoke with a girly accent. It wasn't my finest work, but at least I got my point across.   "And what's with all this cheesy nickname shit. Bug? Really Finn! When you guys chose pet names, were you laying in bed cuddling too?" "Hold up Arch! Remember Rae left me! Not the other way around. She has to use to me datin' other girls-" "Woman" I interrupted. "Girls-women whateva! I had to deal with it, so does she." I shook my head at the stupid boy I decided to call my best friend. "Do you not listen to the stories that get spread around school" I asked honestly. After socialising in the same circle as Macca and Simmy for a few weeks, I had grown a custom to the foul things they talked about involving the other students. And to my regret, Rae had been a topic well and truly covered. "What are you talking about? You know I can't stand college" Finn stressed running a hand through his hair. I caught him look in the direction Rae headed, but unfortunately her figure had disappeared by now. "After your little disabled toilets stun, you two became quite famous. I'm surprised you didn't hear about your little escapade floating in the wind." "You know nothin' happened. We talked, and I kissed her. And it shouldn't matter what happened in there anyway! It's nobody else's business." Sighing, I thought of a different way to broach the subject. "Finn its a place full of teens, gossip is their only form of communication. We are a nasty breed of people, that will twist and turn the truth until it's a plausible story. It doesn't matter what really happened. All they know is you and Rae locked yourselves in the toilet, alone, together. They have an imagination. Everyone thinks you two had fucked." Finn scoffed acting like it was the stupidest thing he has ever heard. Then it clicked. The clogs in this brain meshed together in harmony, he finally got what I was trying to say. "What are they saying about Rae?" "Do you want the truth? Or would you like me to sugar coat it?" I asked honestly. It didn't matter how and what I said, I know Finn was going to be mad once he finds out. "Truth." "They are saying along the lines of... Rae is a fat minging bird that you felt sorry for so you decided to give her a sympathy fuck..." "And she's heard this?" I nodded. "What about you and the rest of the gang? Have you heard this?" I regretfully nodded again. "Why hasn't anyone told me this shit! Why haven't you done anything about it Archie!" I bowed my head in shame. Here I am berating Finn about what he's doing to Rae when I too was only hurting her as well. "I honestly thought you knew and shrugged off the silly rumour like you normally do, I mean when you heard about Rae and Liam you laughed. And I know I should of done something Finn. I'm just trying to fit in at the moment, and I fucked up! We all fucked up" I sighed. "So she believe what people where saying about her then? That's why she broke up with me? Not because she didn't want to be with me but because she doesn't think she's worthy of me." "I don't know Finn" I shrugged. "She had a mental break down not that long ago. Anything could be going through her mind right now." Finn patted his jacket pocket, checking for his wallet and what not before looking back at me with a sad smile attached to his face. "I have to go talk to her before she gets to the pigeon race." I snorted. "Really Finn?" "Look just tell the others I had to run off, I-ugh-I had toooo..." "Go to a pigeon race?" I laughed. "Yeah whatever. Just tell Olivia I'll call her tomorrow" he shouted the last part as he darted across the road. He ran down the road leading to Rae's house. I hoped I had done the right thing. "CALL ME!" I shouted, but Finn had already faded into the black. "Well what to do now?" I mumbled to myself staring at the pub doors. I didn't particular want to venture back into that domain, especially without Finn in tow. Eh. I think chop will be quite alright with the ladies tonight. I started walking towards my car. I think it was time for a peppermint tea. (And.. CUT!) But he never called me.. He never picked up the phone, his dad being away on a work trip didn't help. Even Linda didn't spill the beans, she just said she was out. So you see my glorious friends, here is my little story about how Uncle Archie either saved the day or got himself into a load of shit. Time will tell to establish the ending of this story. All I know for one, is it won't be ending with someone jumping on a train to Bristol. I'll shut that shit down quick smart. So until then I will bid you farwell- *Ringing* "Holy fuck" I mumbled wiping the drool sliding down my chin. The ringing continued to blare through the room as I picked my head up from the desk I fell asleep at. I rubbed my forehead and groaned before reaching over my lamp to grab the phone. "Ello?" I croaked, sleep still evident in my voice. "Archie?" I bolted up right as soon as I heard Finn's voice, which caused me to fall backwards off the chair. I laid there a few seconds before dragging the receiver to my ear and taking the base with it causing it to land on my leg. Fuck. "Yeah?" "Did you just- never mind. What's going on?" "What's going on? WHAT'S GOING ON? Three fucking days Finn! No contact from you, nothing" I sat up straight. "What happened?" "Uh well I broke up with Olivia" Finn said warily. I snorted. "Don't give a toss about that! What happened with Rae did you find her?" "Yeah I found her." "And?" I stressed. I'd start going grey soon if Finn kept talking in riddles. "Here I am stressing. Having waky ass dreams about me narrating a story about you two and all your giving me is a short answer. I need information Finn Nelson!" "Are you alright Arch? You seem a bit strange this evening" Finn had the audacity to laugh. "Finn!" "Ohkay. Ohkay. We talk, no details. And we sorted stuff out. Starting fresh. We're going to try again." I smiled. Whatever Finn said actually worked. Honestly I thought the twat would fumble over his words, but he actually did it. I was like a proud father. "Ohkay that's good" I played it cool but inside I was jumping up and down like a school girl. "Are you Bellends coming to the pub anytime soon to socialise? Or are you two not quite ready to come out of your bubble?" "Nah we'll see ya tonight. Catch." "See you then." The line went dead and I sagged back onto the ground. Oh it was glorious being Uncle Archie. Being wise beyond my years, with a dramatic  group of friends that helped expand my growing ego. I could sell my story and become a millionaire one day.

*dramatized exit*

@lily-pop-2 @eveerez @i-dream-of-emus @hey1tskat1e @arathewallflower @mmfdfanfic @luly310 @l88cym @tinakegg @milllott @milymargot @lurkernolonger

[phoenixrising-spn-blog]

Close to Human || Past Para

“Shut up, Dean,” Phoenix said, reaching back to push him, before rolling her eyes. “These people might be old, but they can still hear you, goddammit. You’re such an ass sometimes.” She whispered, walking through the halls of the old folks home. Their latest little mission and hunting trip, was leading them to a place where old people were being drained of what was left of their memories and humanity. She hated being around the old and the sick, just as Dean did, but she knew better than to say anything about it. Politeness apparently wasn’t in the man’s DNA. As they walked through the rooms, she heard someone call her by a name that she hadn’t heard in many years. 

“Nixie....?” Said the voice, so familiar...and yet so different. She stopped in her tracks, her eyes faraway as she remembered the last time someone had called her by that name. She backtracked and ran into the room behind her and to her left. And there she was...the girl, old woman now, that had changed the course of Phoenix’s life forever. 

“Gerta...?” She said, hearing Dean and Sam say something to one another.

1936

Phoenix stood at the door of the small apartment in Germany, her bag in hand a concerned look on her face. She’d seen an ad in the local newspaper which had been advertising for the services of a full time nanny to take care of their infant daughter. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach and she almost turned tail and ran before she knocked on the door. She wasn’t supposed to be here. She was supposed to be doing her job of reaping the souls who were worthy enough of Valhalla, and yet here she was, trying to pass herself off as human. Phoenix had been studying them from afar, and she figured now was a good a time as any to make a life of her own. She was so incredibly curious about the people whose souls she had reaped so many times. Finally, she bit hard on her lip and reached up to knock on the door. She would be going by the alias of ‘Nixie’, a common name of those who came from America in the 1930′s. She thought it gave her a kind of carefree vibe and it sure as hell would fit in better than Phoenix would. 

The door before her opened, and the woman on the other side was holding a baby. She looked exhausted, like she hadn’t slept in days and Phoenix gave the woman a genuine smile. “Hello. I’m here for the nanny position? We spoke over telegram?” She asked, holding out her hand for the woman to shake. As a Valkyrie, she’d been trained in all the languages of mankind and German flowed freely from her lips as if she’d spoken it over and over. That was wont to happen when you’d been alive for almost 2 thousand years. “Is that your baby girl? Her name is Gerta, yes?” She asked, letting go of her bag and holding her hands out. “You seem like you have your hands full...let me take her for you,” she offered. The woman gratefully handed her over, and the moment Phoenix felt the warmth of the little body next to hers, she knew she’d never let anything happen to her. How was it that humans could produce these tiny creatures? “Hello, Gerta. My name is Nixie...” She said, watching the girl reach out towards her face. 

Gerta’s mother reached out toward her bag and pulled it into the residence. “We have a room for you so that you may live with us. You will have to pay for your room and board, obviously, on top of taking care of Gerta. Lord knows in these times of war, we mothers need more help than we used to, what with out husbands being away most of the time.” Gerta giggled as Phoenix tickled her and the woman, her name was Lily, smiled in response. “She’s taken quite a liking to you...she doesn’t usually like strangers.” Phoenix shook her head, in disbelief that she’d actually had the guts to do something like this-- What would Freyja say when she found out? But looking at Gerta’s little face, Phoenix knew that no matter what, it was worth it. “I’m glad she has...looks like she and I will get along just fine.”

7 years later

Phoenix had fully settled into her life at the littlest house on the street. She’d been there for Gerta’s first steps, her first words, her first day of schooling. But as time passed and the war grew more vicious, she worried about the fate of her newfound family. They were taking the Jews now, putting them on trains like cattle and shipping them to some kind of camps. Every single day, Phoenix had to watch as more and more people were sent to Ghettos, people she’d come to know and grown fond of. Not long after taking the job, she’d realized that this family was part of that group, and the thought of it made her stomach turn. She’d made a vow the day she’d shown up here, that she would never let anything happen to any of them, and especially to Gerta. So she started to devise a plan. In the night, Phoenix would sneak away and fly to the top most point of the highest building overlooking the city. The more people got deported, the more she started to panic. 

That’s when she called her mother. 

As soon as she sent out the message, Freyja appeared in front of her, a calm but reserved look on her face. “I was beginning to think you’d abandoned myself and your sisters completely. You wouldn’t be the first one, you know? To side with human kind?” Phoenix dropped her head for just a moment before lifting her chin and facing her head on. 

“Have you seen what’s been going on here on Midgard? Surely, this has to be Ragnarok, Mother. People putting each other in camps, the death chambers, the trains full of people who did nothing more than have a different point of view from the fucking craziest man in any of the realms.” She started, taking a step forward. “Why have you sent no Valkyrie to help these people? Why aren’t we doing something to fix this?”

Freyja stayed calm and collected, tilting her head to the side. “We do not interfere. You know the rules better than anyone else here does because you helped me to make them and enforce them. This, despite your little notes and observations, is no where close to Ragnarok.” Her eyes trained on Phoenix with a mix of annoyance and real concern. “You need to come home, to your real family. You need to leave them behind...who are they to you? You are immortal, you are basically a God. Their lives are a blink compared to the lives we live--why have you chosen to side with a human family, a human lifespan, when you know the outcome? We do not interfere,” she repeated. 

Phoenix reached up to put her hands on either side of her head, trying to figure out something to say back. “Then...help me. Please, help me get them safely out of this place, somewhere across the border where these soldiers and the camps will not be able to get a hold of them. If you do that, I will willingly come back home and leave them behind. Please.” She begged, her hazel eyes searching her mother’s face. “You have compassion or you wouldn’t have created Valhalla in the first place. These are good people, and Gerta is only 7 years old. Please help me get them out of this place. I’m asking you, as your daughter.”

Instead of answering she shook her head once from side to side. All begging and pleading ceased from Phoenix. “I made a promise to this family the day I met them and told them that I would never let anything happen to their daughter. If you won’t help me, I’ll do it myself.” Freyja almost looked forlorn. “If you choose these humans over us, you can never return. You know the rules of our kind. We watch, we reap, we train. You have one chance to help them, and then you come home. If you choose not to come home, then you may never return.” Phoenix tried so hard to keep tears out of her eyes. “I can’t be responsible for the death of these people...of that little girl. Maybe it was stupid of me to come and make a life on Midgard...to get so attached to these people in this place, and yes, it makes no sense to you or my sisters, but I made a vow. And you know that I always stand by my word.” She took a deep breath and ruffled her wings. “I have to go. The soldiers could be there at any moment and I don’t want them to be alone if that happens. I’m sorry to disappoint you, mother. Tell the girls I love them.”

As Phoenix walked through the front door, she was already barking orders. “The soldiers are down the street, they’re taking more people to the ghetto and they are heading here. Pack your bags, pack anything important to you, I’m going to get you the hell out of here.” She helped to pack Gerta’s things, before coming to a realization. If Freyja wouldn’t help...perhaps someone else would. Without another thought, she prayed to the only Angel she’d ever been able to get along with. Castiel...if you can hear me...please help me. I’ve done you many a favor, and now I’m calling one in...Please hurry, Phoenix prayed, her hazel eyes shut tight. She felt a whoosh of air behind her and a sigh of relief came from her lips. 

“Hello, Phoenix...what do you need from me?” He asked, his deep voice quiet as he spoke. “This family...my family...they’re going to be taken to the ghetto. I need to get them out. You are the only person I know that can pop in and out of wherever you want. I could get them out, but I can’t fly 3 different people around without drawing attention. I need you to take them out of Germany, to America, maybe. I don’t care. Take them somewhere they will be safe. And erase their memories of you. Okay?” Before she finished that thought, the family gathered in the living room, Gerta was holding tight to the doll that Phoenix had made her almost 3 years ago. They all looked to scared, and that’s when she approached them, trying her best to smile. “This is where we part ways...wherever you go, I cannot come with you.” Both John and Linda were shocked, and Gerta started to cry. “Listen to me, okay?” She reached for Gerta and pulled her close. “I want to thank you for taking me in and making me feel like a part of your family. Please remember, that no matter what happens, and no matter if we see each other again, you taught me what it meant to be part of a real family. When you get to where you’re going, tell no one your real names, and no one that you are Jewish.”

She knelt down to Gerta. “Listen to me closely, okay? When you get to your new home, I want you to live, okay? I want you to do well in school, I want you to grow up and live your life. Fall in love, fall out of love, get your heart broken, and rebroken again. Get married to someone whom you love and who loves you, have babies. I need to know that no matter where you end up, you’ll do those things. Promise me, Gerta.” She said, not able to hide her tears any longer. She pulled the girl into a hug and shut her eyes, tears falling down her face. “I don’t want to leave you, Nixie.” Gerta said, her own tears staining Phoenix’s dress. “Shh...it’s going to be okay. Go with Castiel. He’ll make sure you get to where you’re going safe and sound. Before you know it...you’ll have a whole new life.” She squeezed Gerta. “I love you, little girl. Always remember that.”

Present Day

Dean and Sam watched attentively as Gerta and Phoenix told them their story. Just as she’d asked Castiel, she had barely any memory of how she and her family got out of Germany. Thank the Gods for that. As Phoenix knelt down next to Gerta’s chair, she took her hands, the hands that had been so small and so trusting into her own and let a tear fall down her cheek, a smile on her features. The old woman reached for a photo album and gave it to Phoenix. “I did just what you asked, Nixie. See?” She pointed to a picture of her graduation, her wedding, her children at various ages. Many times, Phoenix had wondered if she had done the right thing by Gerta and her family, always wondering what their life turned out to be like and if they’d made it through the other side. To see her here as an old woman, was so overwhelmingly beautiful. “Sometimes I wondered if my family and I dreamed of you. How are you still so young? I’m this old woman now...and yet you look the same as the Nixie that left me in Germany. Still so beautiful.” 

She felt Sam’s hand on her shoulder and she looked over at the boys who were giving her sympathetic smiles. Dean leaned toward Sam and uttered, “Dude...” 

A nurse came into the room, announcing that visiting time was over and Phoenix looked back at Greta dismayed. “But...I just found you...” She muttered. The old woman took her hand, her eyes so familiar, the eyes she’d stared into as the little girl had grown from an infant to a young girl. “I never got to thank you, Nixie. If it hadn’t been for you, my kids and grandkids would never have been born. You gave me that. Even if you had to leave me...you gave me the most wonderful gift. My life would have probably ended had you not been part of our family.” Phoenix got up and wrapped her arms around the feeble old woman, basking in the hug for a moment. 

Before Phoenix got to the door, Gerta called her back for only a moment. “I knew there was magic in this world. And Nixie...? I love you too.”