#at least he didnt bring dead birds

[deadhands69]

Three Words

Tomura Shigaraki x Reader 

Fluff ☁️ From the First Five ask game  I'm so happy I get to start the year with Shigaraki! Requested by @shigarakislaughter, thanks Kisa!

Tomura Shigaraki wants to say he loves you, he really does. But every time he opens his mouth, everything in him freezes and the words won't come out. 

To you, it's a silly little quirk your boyfriend has. Every time you do something sweet or nice for him, he opens his mouth before suddenly closing it and biting his lip while staring at you. It's cute.

To him, it's confusing and frustrating. It's just three words. What’s wrong with him?

Love is a new feeling for Tomura. Initially, he thought he was getting sick. Feeling warm. Butterflies in his stomach. Has to be a bug. But when it didn't pass after a week, he became concerned. Hours of Googling later, he comes to the conclusion that he does, in fact, love you. It feels right. 

He's never been one to shy away from saying how he feels, but this time’s different. What if you don't feel the same? What if you feel so far from the same that you reconsider why you've even been spending time with him at all? 

He can't bear the thought of that, but he also can't continue to keep this to himself. He needs you to know how he feels. 

Maybe it's just a matter of finding the right time.

So, he began spending more time with you. Every spare moment he had, he’s been trying to spend around you in some way or another. Meetings. Walks. Late nights playing video games. Perfect moments came and went: still he couldn't say it. 

Maybe there's another way to show how he feels. Again, he Googles it.

He began doing (more) nice things for you. Bringing you warm drinks in bed when you wake up. Rubbing your shoulders to help you relax at the end of the day. 

He left enough tiny gifts outside of your door that he was beginning to feel like a cat. Candies you said you like. Cool looking rocks and sticks. Little trinkets that remind him of you. When he writes the notes to attach to each of them, he wishes he could write more. He feels so pathetic. He can't even bring himself to write "i love you" without his hand shaking so hard the whole page is illegible. So, “from Tomura” it is. (Once he managed to draw a heart, but it looked more like a squashed strawberry. When you asked what it was, he simply agreed with your assumption - terrified to admit how badly he botched something so simple.)

Now, you're sitting on your bed together. It's well past two am. You're showing him a project you've been working on, it's finally starting to come together.

“You’re so cool,” he mumbles, tipping his chin down so his hair falls over his face.

“Thanks,” you speak with more confidence than he could ever imagine himself having in a moment like this. “You’ve been so sweet lately. Almost too sweet,” you eye him in mock suspicion. “What’s going on?”

The blush dusting his cheeks deepens. Once more, his mouth opens but the words don’t come. His discomfort feels like it could last forever, how hard should it be? It’s just three short words. Finally, he gives in. Turning his head from you and looking away.   

“Oh,” you whisper, “I see.”

Your hands find his jaw. Cupping his face, lightly moving him to look at you again.

“I love you too.” 

He smiles; you get it.

masterlist

[chisatowo]

I love nuzlocks you get forced to use pokemon you would never use otherwise (especially in randomizers) and then you can chose out fun naming themes and have a fun little lineup of guys that you may or may not get to use and then there's the horrors

[majorasnightmare]

STAYING ON MY ISOBEL BULLSHIT now with Dark Urge flavoring

i think possibly the best variation of Isobel and the Urge is the one where Minthara is present to grill you about it, because it really brings a LOT of context to the forefront of that scene that otherwise would go unquestioned

like firstly minthara has zero qualms about the Actual Killing so the killing of isobel is just like, a Non Thing, but what minthara does is question the CIRCUMSTANCES and force you to explain yourself for them, when otherwise thats something that just doesnt get discussed! you focus so much on the fact of the killing that you barely notice the scene surrounding it, which is so utterly fascinating regarding how the Urge works.

Minthara questions "why here? why now? in the middle of the shadow curse, trying to fight a powerful enemy, when allies are beneficial, if at the very least to put warm bodies between us and them?" all of which are valid points! minthara questions what the benefit is to turning all of last light into zombies *now* is, especially when you have to fight you way through them, and doesnt understand what the point is in indulging it *now* of all times. Which is certainly something to consider when you examine HOW the isobel urge scene goes down

The earliest possible scene is sceleritas visiting you in camp to give you a target for the Urge, a first in the playthrough, which happens BEFORE you go to last light but while youve spent some time in the shadow cursed lands. He provides you an image of her to recognize her, and informs you that itd be really great to kill the shit out of her, but reasons WHY are sparse. Up until that point, the Urges were random, sudden, things youd resist or indulge in the moment. Kicking a squirrel suddenly, resisting tearing off the wings of a bird, welcoming a bard into your camp or being rude but having not a single hint of bloodthirst until you wake up covered in gore. durge even says as much in an optional dialogue in the underdark, when spaw tries to scare you off before you find their village

"The Urges don't give warnings" is a rule that durge has intuited through their interactions with the Urge, where their understanding is that the Urge is sudden, seemingly random, without prior signs or warnings of any kind, least of all verbal. And here Sceleritas is giving you basically an assassination target. And true to form, when you actually MEET isobel, the Urge is the worst its ever been, requiring several boxes of dialogue to go through before its able to be successfully resisted, a struggle visible enough in your expression that Isobel can tell when you've succeeded. This is FAR from the usual Urge experience for a post lobotomy durge, this is premediated and *intense*, your Urge dialogue being short clipped maddened ramblings of ripping and maiming, completely different from your fantasies of cutting of Gale's hand (which bears durges typical macarbe prose)

Succumbing to this Urge also rewards you with the Slayer form, a first for Bhaal as durge didnt have the Slayer beforehand, despite being Bhaals chosen. Killing Isobel is so important to Bhaal that he gives you what he considers his greatest gift and most powerful expression of his domain (though it can also be used as punishment, as seen in the Orin cutscene where she learns her heritage)

Why does Bhaal want Isobel Thorm, of all people, dead SO badly? He isnt even this bad about GORTASH, chosen of his sworn enemy Bane and one of the reasons why his Dark Urge chosen falls from grace in the first place? The Urge compels you, overwhelmingly, to kill Isobel as soon as you see her. It goads when you fight Marcus, saying he shouldnt kidnap her because you need to kill her *now*. You cant have any dialogue with Isobel without one of the first things the Narrator says to you is that your Urge wants to kill her SO badly. If you mention it to her, you get MULTIPLE dialogues where your only options are succumb to the Urge or resist it, with the succumb options being things like "stab you! kill you! maul you!", essentially just barking out murderous nonsense as the Urge overtakes you, and its physically sickening to boot. Resisting THIS Urge over all others FEELS godawful, its nauseating and painful and even though there isnt a check to resist it, the description emphasizes just how hard it is for you to commit to resisting this Urge. The Urge doesnt act like that at any point in act 1, or even the rest of act 2 for instance. Talking to Steelclaw and forcing yourself to remember essentially triggers another squirrel incident, this time offscreen. And resisting the Isobel Urge means any long rest after has the chance to trigger the Companion Urge scene, which Sceleritas claims to be your Urge trying to cope with the lack of bloodshed but which overall feels like a punishment. As far as ive gotten into Act 3, so far this is the ONLY Urge that behaves like this. Theres SOMETHING about Isobel SPECIFICALLY. The reward is the greatest its ever been for Durge, and the punishment is uniquely bitter, and theres no room for gray areas, even as Minthara concisely points out all the reasons attacking Isobel is a Logically Bad Idea.

To kill Isobel, your Urge makes you unto an animal, disregarding your own safety and well being, and even your own long term goals (you have to kill ketheric no matter what ending your after! you have to kill ketheric even if you want to please bhaal! to become his chosen and slay the world in his name!) and it doesnt make a lick of sense. Sceleritas asks if you arent fond of piles of corpses anymore but it doesnt even matter if you tell him your waiting for a better timeframe to slaughter everyone, the fact you didnt do it as soon as the Urge demanded it is worthy enough of punishment to try and kill your closest companion.

Overwhelmingly it feels less like the typical instinctive Dark Urge borne into your blood and more like a Divine Mandate that you are punished for rejecting. Blessed with the purest expression of Bhaals power, losing yourself to an animalistic frenzy, forgoing common sense or strategic thinking or even *plans on long term appeasing Bhaals goals*, putting EVERYTHING at risk because theres a strong chance the shadow curse will just PERMAKILL YOU as per the curses lore, all for a SINGLE kill. Bhaal wants Isobel Thorm, specifically, dead by YOUR hands, and her death is worth more to him than the slaughter of Myrkuls Chosen, and worth risking the completion of the worlds death to him. The entire situation casts doubt on the nature of the Urge (up until then a randomly occuring "instinct" that could be embraced or resisted but ran the risk of striking when you werent prepared leading you to act on it, but overall something that did not overwrite who you were as a person or your decision making abilities, as durge remained macabre-ly poetic as per usual and could balance it against perceived pros and cons strategically) which in turn casts doubt on your entire HISTORY as the Dark Urge prior to your tadpoling. Combined with the knowledge that Bhaal blesses his killers with murderous euphoria better than any drug high, and the description of Orins slayer punishment as "No more Orin", the Urge to kill Isobel makes one wonder just exactly how much control Durge had over themselves beforehand and if the Urge is truly as innate as Sceleritas (and the Absolute in the optional wall crack dialogue) seems to indicate

After all, if the Dark Urge is you, and you are the Dark Urge, why would Sceleritas go to the trouble of informing you beforehand? Why would the Urge pick your closest companion when you dont kill a stranger whos keeping you alive long enough to slaughter the world? Why would you lose yourself and start babbling madly when you talk about the killing Urge? Why does the Urge sicken within you so similarly whenever your kind or compassionate?

What the fuck is UP with Isobel Thorm?

[dballzposting]

I............. the Namek Freeza battle ....... was I think all about Satisfaction. Goku going Super Saiyan - moving into "throws of unimaginable rage" as Freeza put it - was like moving into the ultimate fury of the Fight response. Pure aggression instinct.

He didnt drop this state until he deemed the fight over. Not when Freeza was DEAD - but when GOKU FELT that he was no longer a threat. He didnt need to kill him to find satisfaction. There just had be nothing left to kick around.

This partly makes me think of the way that aggression in predators is activated by movement and resistance - and is why an animal freezing will make a cat boredly leave. Cats especially dont just hunt becasue they're hungry - it's a set of behaviors that they DELIGHT in, that brings them joy, like how birds like to sing (even when they have no prospects for a mate - think caged birds) and have the impulse to roost (even doing so when there are no eggs - think pet pigeons.) Cats love to play with their prey after they catch them. Which is so morbid for the prey. But the cat just loves to do it. And obviously they'll play with inanimate things too - as long as they keep moving, or at least make a satisfying sound.

Saiyans seem a lot like that. They LOVE to fight, have to even, there is a reserve of energy in their soul that compels them to fight - but it's not pure aggression, no, it can be joy. But the prey needs to keep active and alive to stimulate that joy- we're constantly seeing Goku needing the enemy to give him their all, and not just for honor's sake, but becasue there is a very tangible thrill that he is getting out of this and he just needs the satisfaction of a good, FULL fight. It's disappointing when the enemy gives up too soon or never puts up much resistance. Think about how many times he admits high excitement when facing a strong enemy. Think about how much later in the series, Goku gets so FRUSTARTED when theres no one good to fight. He NEEEEDS to release this energy he NEEEDS to be equally matched. He needs the proper resistance in order to put in his all, and he needs the mutual reciprocation of - bare minimum, if not any other thing to agree on - Passion.

I mean dont get me wrong Saiyans as a whole DEFINITELY KNOW HOW TO HANDLE THEMSELVES when it comes to ANGRY AGGRESSION. But they also just like to fight. And "killing" is not the only satisfying end to that.

Goku, by nature, adheres to the call of mercy. He needs to fight more than anything, it's kind of his whole thing, but he never feels compelled to kill. Rather, he NEEDS the enemy to live so that they can come back stronger later and give him another Satisfying Fight...!

But that's not what's behind all of his mercy - really, his mercy is as instinctual as his need for fight. The latter we can attribute to his species, but the former is uniquely his own and just as integral. That's what makes him Goku. When Freeza was begging for mercy, Goku was incensed to hear it - but he could not resist the call. BECAUSE: This is about SATISFACTION, and he would FIND NONE if he let himself walk away in cold blood.

When he had to kill Freeza he wasnt happy about it. He had already found his satisfaction. He didnt want to also kill him, but he knew that Freeza had forced his hand - truly, truly forced his hand, wrote his actions, becasue right up to the end, Freeza WAS a worthy fight. BUT, Goku never takes Freeza's last-minute advice about how mercy's only beneficiary is your foe. Because right up to the end, Freeza was a fool. That's what Goku yells at him when he is forced to return a ki blast and end him, and it is the most pertinent thing for him to say. Freeza never learned to read into harmony and to be able to track the moving ki of living things. Freeza never learned how precious life is, which from Goku's divine wisdom, is an ignorance that to which there exists no greater indicator of a fool. Freeza was just a fool.

Anyway: I said earlier that this reminded me of how cats play, but that was a tangent. What this fight REALLY is is AWESOME, RIGHTEOUS RAGE and VINDICATION and REVENGE and SATISFACTION. It's immensely gratifying to the viewer, most of us walking around with no good way to vent the awesome survival rage that we're capable of, and for some, is locked inside of us due to past happenings that were never resolved.

THE SCENERY IS INTENSE - the sick, dead, EXPLODING planet, devoid of life, giving in to the epic violence of all that it's made of. It represents being past overdue, when you've gone under the tunnel and theres no sun, when God has written you off and theres nothing more to do and you're just waiting until you're not there to wait anymore. To Goku it's this pivotal time to nail the escape - but to the planet, it's past any salvageability, past the event horizon. It's not the fearful wait for death, it IS death, upfront and center and awesome and profound. So theres this backdrop of complete obliteration without desolation, consummate violence, the magma and tsunamis and lightning and earthquakes.

And Goku is burning with unwavering conviction to survive this. Hes not willing to die with Freeza like he was with Raditz - this is not about being tactful - this is about something higher, this is divine comeuppance. He intercepted King Kai and the Grand Elder's communication to tell them that they better not wish him away. This is HIS FIGHT - and anyone could see that this is his PURPOSE. If he dies here then he will with total satisfaction. This is what hes meant to do. The preservation of what's precious, the commitment to honor, to deferring to the calls of revenge, the electricity in his body and his blood inside and out - this is all his biology and he is one with his fate. He will not be removed prematurely. This cannot be thwarted. The impact of this perfectly-focused force of his spirit is, out of context, only destructive - and if you remove him from this before satisfaction, there is no way in this lifetime that he will be able to discharge this in an effective or meaningful way. If he cant win this, then he needs to die. This is all he is.

He had entered the Super Saiyan state again when Freeza attacked him again, and this time he didnt leave it when Freeza was deemed no longer threat. He maintained it as he tried to escape. The threat isnt over yet - he has even less time than he did, and all of this energy can now be converted into initiating an active escape.

Furthermore - and this feels like a weak detour now- when Freeza's ship fell into the innards of the planet and all hope was seemingly loss .. even though Goku was left there like "No ... this cant be happening..!" He still didnt feel trapped or hopeless and he didnt move into any sort of freeze response. No tonic immobility for our Goku. His fury is too POWERFUL, and his constitution POWERFUL ENOUGH to contain it without getting overwhelmed (INCREDIBLE!). He has not reached satisfaction yet - he has not escaped yet - so he will remain in this state.

Also Goku, by character, training, AND blood, will never ever resort to any sort of freeze .. THIS WE KNOW ... we saw baby Gohan fall into that a few times (the way he would have a burst of power and then drop to level 0 in overwhelming fear...) but even at his young age and limited training we see the fight response in him show up and triumph . I do just think that Saiyans will Always Fight rather than flee and they will persist with fight for a long time even if the situation becomes unsalvageable... I think it's just their coding. I've no reason to believe otherwise...

[bibyebae]

i have rotted on the inside. my body is covered in moss and flies. i am all black and dark and dead.

i thank god for making suicide haram or else that what i would be thinking about all the time.

i failed all of them. i will continue to do that because thats all i can do.

nothing is going to fix this.

nothing is going to fix what i did to them.

i am as dark as midnight, i am as dead as an uprooted tree. i am covered in hurt that i deserve. i am a lonely comet that falls and burns and hurts.

poetry that comes out of hurt is the most beautiful. such an irony. when i get to heaven as im sure god at least forgives me, i will pray for my parents forgiveness. i will write beautiful poems that stem from love.

my sister sleeps beside me but she despises me. no, im not imagining that, it is a fact that can be seem from miles away. she is not here because she wants to, she only has no option, she is stuck in this disgusting hotel room

i smell of death and vomit and snot and piss. i will go shower now.

i promised them that i will be good, even if i never felt good in my life anymore. thats the least i can do trying to make it up for the hurt i caused.

my dreams have rotted anyway. as dead as the uprooted trees. that house near the living green tree has burned. my imaginary beautiful garden has withered.

who knows, when god forgives me he may give me my house near the forest with blooming flowers and green trees. i dont want to be the heavy snow that broke the branches, i dont want them to rot too, i have already broken enough in my fall. not anymore tho. the uprooted trees can not break anything anymore.

this is the bottom of the decaying well. dried up and useless. i didnt think i will get stuck there. that i will get trapped into the scary well that coraline describes. that i will metaphorically put my head in the oven. that i will overdose on the lamest medications. that i will vomit it all as i have never did in my whole existence.

funny how my words sounds so beautiful to me, maybe thats what i will do my whole life in my desolate dream home. but instead of dogs and butterflies and lady bugs and birds and a majestic ginkgo biloba tree i will have melancholy and broken poems.

funny how i adored mary oliver and my amazing friend said i am the arab mary oliver. we thought that because i will write beautiful poems. but she suffered most of her life. that i did not think tgat i would be.

funny how i will never be in love as mary was when she got her wife. how i will never have the claude monet colorful flowers. how i will cut my ear, again metaphorically. how i will bring my downfall like.. i have no idea who, maybe that what i will be remembered for after my death.

i hope my death is close. all the people dying in bombs and hunger and hurt. i deserve it more. i wish i can take their pain and hurt. i deserve it and they dont.

the sun is rising over the busy city and its beautiful life and beautiful looking people. i saw many beautiful things here. gods parting gift i suppose.

maybe i will flee the country when my parents are gone from this world. maybe then i will come here to see what i wanted to see and wanted to feel and wanted to touch. maybe gods consolation will be enough money for me to do that.

melancholy in the villages. melancholy in the city. melancholy, god i loved that word all my life, funny.

the skin above my eye is bruised. its a beautiful blessing from a beautiful god. no one will notice it.

i had a dream yesterday about a girl i used to probably love. probably. she was with me with kisses and hugs. her husband got her pregnant. she was happy. when she went into labor i left her on the hospital floor as soon as the nurses came to care for her. i knew that i never will see her again.

its okay. whoever might reads my rotting words should know thats its okay. when if i am not. the bottom of the well is good. its is as dark as i am . as empty as i am. at least i know that i can’t get any further into the earth. a blessing from a merciful god. la ilaha illa allah wa alhamdulla.

i used to love myself to bits and pieces.

i used to have a beautiful life.

i used to.

i used to.

i used to.

i used to.

i used to.

i used to.

i used to.

i used to.

i used to.

i used to.

i used to.

i used to.

i used to.

[3liza]

im sure someone already told the tiktok user but i didnt see anyone else write about pigeon rescue yet, but if anyone else is curious (tldr: yes its ok to pick up a pigeon from the ground, but there are caveats):

feral city pigeons are not wild birds anywhere in the world, they are tame, domesticated livestock, like a cat, dog, or a chicken. they are just feral after being lost or released into human areas many years ago, where they are able to survive by scavenging. they can be made into pets after being rescued just like feral dogs and cats

you can just pick a pigeon up off the ground and keep it. it is, ethically, totally ok. pigeons' lives in cities are nasty, brutish and short, a pigeon will almost always be happier and suffer less as a pet than a feral. pigeons do pair bond so you may be leaving a pigeon spouse somewhere out there in the world but pigeons can form new pairbonds just like people.

lots of people have pet pigeons, they enjoy being pets, and they do great with people. please do lots of research with pigeon fanciers (fanciers are people who keep pigeons) about how best to provide for your pigeon. there are considerations like vet care, nutrition, and cage size and type, and possibly needing another pigeon to be with

there are some zoonotic illnesses in feral pigeons that are transmissable to humans. they are mostly pretty safe to pick up and touch, unless you are immunocompromised or pregnant. but even if you are healthy, dont put the pigeon in your mouth and wash your hands before and after handling. its possible for people to be allergic to pigeon dander or to get infections from infected pigeon dust. i personally do not think a pigeon is on average dirtier or more infectious than a dog or cat, just use basic hygiene and vet care and your chances of getting sick from pigeon handling is almost nil.

the main way to keep small rescue animals alive is WARMTH (the second most important thing is hydration). this is so true that even people doctors have a saying, and that is: theyre not dead until theyre warm and dead. you can bring all kinds of hopeless cases back from the brink of death with a hot water bottle. just make sure that the animal can get away from the heat source too, hyperthermia can kill them just as quickly. put the heating pad, heat bulb, or hot water bottle in one corner of the enclosure and make sure the animal can walk away from it to a cool area by themselves, to regulate their own temperature.

many many feral pigeons have parasites, both internal and external. humans arent in danger from most of these parasites. if you pick up a sad pigeon from outside he may have bugs on or in him, including mites and ticks. sometimes bugs can get on you if you are handling birds who have been living outside. dont freak out, just be aware of it. there are treatments for these but it's one of many reasons to:

keep any rescue animal away from your current pets and in a nice dark soft space (the cat carrier in the video is perfect) that can be cleaned easily. keep cat and dog-contaminated items away from birds, carnivores carry deadly bacteria that can kill birds quickly.

take the pigeon to an avian vet or at the very least to a rehabber or pigeon keeper asap and get an examination and advice. pigeons are not wildlife and are not of concern to wildlife agencies but they might be able to recommend somewhere to get instructions from.

it is really sadly true that pigeons who are so sick that theyre trying to get indoors or arent afraid of people are often already in such bad shape that they will not recover, or may get better for a few days and then die suddenly (this is every small animals' favorite joker's trick and its just something you get used to after youve rescued a lot of animals). but if the pigeon had a warm nest and clean food and water for a few days before it died thats ok too. you can give a small rescue animal its best shot at survival by keeping stress and handling to a minimum until it has some time to adjust. tiny animals love to just have a heart attack and die and if that happens to an animal you tried to help, its really not your fault. just be aware going in.

https://vm.tiktok.com/ZTd7qaqgV/

[sashasylva]

Owl House Season 3 Spoilers

Okay so ive been thinking about Thanks to Them nonstop since I saw it and ive had a Thought. Its been influenced by bits and pieces ive seen others realize and im 10000% sure someone else has said this already/had the same theory but Im saying it ANYWAY. In Hollow Mind we see that Belos is essentually haunted by the spirits of the Palismen he consumed, their voices and souls present in his mind. Now of course this could have been a one time thing to explain why there were two ‘Belos’s but the owl house likes to do this thing where it calls back on something that seemed like it was simply introduced for a single episode plot but turns out to be important later. Flapjack didnt just die, he gave his essense/life to save Hunter, meaning Hunter absorbed him. Ive seen some people saying that he probably can hear Flapjack’s voice in his mind, since he already knew Flap was gone when he woke up and was likely actually talking to Flap when he entered the portal. We have ALSO seen that palismen souls linger in the mindscape. Because Flap is the only palisman Hunter has absorbed, Id imagine that Flapjack’s soul isnt all corrupted and oozy like the ones in Belos’s mind, theres no amalgamation of malice and distress, Flapjack CHOSE to do this, out of love for his boy. So what im saying is. Hunter mindscape later on when they find Flapjack in there and either bring him out or at least hear from/see him again later. Hes not actually gone, its true hes not Hunter’s little emotional support buddy anymore, but hes still with Hunter. I wonder how clear their voices are in the minds of the people who absorb them. NORMALLY Im against bringing people back from the dead because then it makes death seemingly meaningless and all that, but in this case PLEASE GIVE HUNTER A BREAK. Let him have his bird!!! If it was anyone other palisman or character or whatever, itd be devastating of course but I’d be fine with them not coming back but. Hunter has had it so bad, and the fact that Flap was wounded by his own (possessed) hands... He needs Flap back for healing and companionship.

[i-cant-sing]

Hey I have a yandere erasermic obsession. I don’t know if you do angst but what if they were punishing reader and she gets really exhausted and passes out. They think they killed her, I know this is dumb and you don’t have to do it if it makes you uncomfortable-🍓 anon

Yandere Erasermic punishing reader

I've missed these two a lot😭

Anyways, enjoy! Check out my MASTERLIST for more!

Yandere Erasermic:

"Hey! I'm home! How are my darlings- Shou? You okay?" Hizashi asked as he entered his home. He was looking forward to spending time with you and the hero, but judging by the pissed off look on Aizawa's face, it didn't seem like happening.

Aizawa was taking deep breaths, his eyebrows furrowed and face contorted into a scowl. God, what did you do now? Hizashi couldn't help but wonder that, as he slid onto the couch next to his husband.

"What did she do now?"Hizashi asked, resting his head on Aizawa's chest as his arms wrapped around him.

Aizawa closed his eyes in annoyance, his own arms engulfing Hizashi as he let out a huff. "She's so ungrateful."

Hizashi lightly chuckled at that, waiting for him to continue. "You know what she did today? She tried to escape. Again. I don't know how she got the code to unlock the main door, but she opened it. She barely made it 2 steps out the door before I pulled her back in. I was taking a shower and she thought she could make a run for it. " Aizawa runs a hand through his hair, but Hizashi suddenly caught it. He looked at his husband's hand, it was turning a nasty shade of purple, and was red around the knuckles, slightly swelled. "Shou, babe... what happened to your hand?"

Aizawa exhales deeply, closing his eyes, trying to control his anger. "Our sweet little darling happened. After I got her back in, I told her to apologise. You know what she did? She spit at me, screamed all kinds of profanities. When I took her down to the basement to chain her up, she tried attacking me." Aizawa clenched his jaw. "I was only going to leave her there for the night. But what she said to me next... Hizashi, I lost it. I punched her." Hizashi's eyes widened. He knew Aizawa wasn't one to lose his temper easily, he knew he wasn't one to resort to violence immediately. So the blonde could only wonder what in the hell did you say to him. "Shouta... what did she say?" He asked softly, almost afraid of the answer himself.

Shouta looked at his husband, trying to calm himself when he told him what you barked out. "She said...she said that she wondered how UA let... let creeps like us around kids." Hizashi's eyes widened. If there's one thing he knew about Aizawa, it was how deeply he cared about his students, treating them like his own children. He prided himself in being their teacher, and so the nerve of you to even say something so disgusting like that, Aizawa was bound to snap.

"I cant believe she'd say something...so horrible. I'm so sorry, Shou." Hizashi whispered, nuzzling Aizawa's neck. The pro hero only grunted. "Whatever. I think it'd be good if she stays down there... for 2 weeks. Yeah that'd be good. And no dinner tonight either. I don't want to put up with anymore of her bullshit." Hizashi only nodded, but then caught another look at his hand and he stood up, pulling Aizawa along with him to the kitchen. Hizashi pulled out a bag of frozen peas and started applying it on his bruise hand to reduce the swelling.

As the two ate dinner, Hizashi couldn't help but worry that if Shouta's hand looked like this from the punch, then what did the receiving end look like. He chose to remain quiet on that matter, not wanting you to ruin the night anymore.

The next morning when Aizawa woke up, he went downstairs to the kitchen to find his husband. Hizashi who was almost done plating up, greeted Aizawa with a kiss. "So, should I take this plate down to our baby bird?" Hizashi asked, already knowing Aizawa didn't want to see you yet. You had really hurt him. Shouta nodded as he took a sip of his coffee. "Be right back." Hizashi pressed a kiss to his lips before going to the basement.

Hizashi opened the door to the basement, walking down the stairs, hoping to see you greet him like the angel they know you are deep down. But when he got down there, he saw you were still asleep on the floor, your limbs still bound to the chains. Your face was turned away from him and Hizashi wasnt sure if he wanted to see the damage that was done to your face.

Hizashi just called for you. “Love, I’ve brought breakfast! Eggs and hashbrowns! Your favourite!” When you didnt respond, he just sighed before placing the plate on the floor. Your chains were long enough to for you to reach it, and while Hizashi wished nothing more than to feed you himself, he knew you needed to be punished.

As he went up the stairs and out of the basement, he couldnt help but feel a sense of dread creeping up on him.

“Do you think she’ll be sorry after her punishment?”Hizashi asked his partner.  Aizawa rolled his eyes. “Unlikely. But she’ll learn to think twice before she says stupid shit like that.” Hizashi chuckled, but secretly hoped that would be the case. He got up from the couch where he and Aizawa sat. “I’ll go get her plate.” They were done eating 2 hours ago, but still waited for you to finish up because they know how stubborn you are.

When Hizashi walked down the stairs, he wasn’t surprised to find your plate untouched. You would always do that the first few days, before finally succumbing to your hunger. Pointless, really. But what disturbed him was how you were still in the same position he had seen you in 2 hours ago. And it was coming to him how still you looked, he couldn't see your body moving a single muscle, he couldn't see if you were breathing. 

Hizashi walked towards you cautiously, waiting for you to jump up and scare the crap out of him. But his breath hitched when he finally saw what had happened to you. 

A big bruise had formed on your cheek, swelling and taking all the shades of the purple, blue and green. But the worst part was seeing the blood and a clear liquid dripping out of your nose slowly, forming a pool around your head.

He turned you on to your back and started shaking your shoulder. “Darling? Wake up, baby. Its me. Baby, wake up.” But your body remained unconscious. He started tapping your cheek, only then noticing you weren’t breathing. All the alarms went off in his head. “SHOUTA! COME DOWN OVER HERE!” 

Shouta rushed to the basement, wondering what stunt you pulled now. But seeing your limp body in Hizashi’s arms, blood coating your cheeks, he knew something terrible had occured. Aizawa ran towards his partners, looking at your bruising cheek. “She’s n-not breathing. She’s not fucking breathing, Shou!” Hizashi sobbed as Aizawa took your wrist in his hand. His blood ran cold when he found no pulse. “What are we gonna do?! She’s dead! Our baby is dead!” Shouta blocked out Hizashi’s voice. They both cant be panicking right now. Aizawa turned to his partner. “Hizashi. Bring her up. I’ll get the car out.” He commanded. “H-hospital? Shou, its too late-” Hizashi cried out but Aizawa gave him a stern look. “Bring her up. Now.” 

They got to the hospital in fairly record time, passing you over to the doctors while Aizawa made up a story of how they found you in an alley. Only after the doctors left them alone did it dawn on Aizawa how serious the situation was. He killed you, didnt he? You would still be alive if he hadnt hit you. How could he ever claim to love you when he hurts you-

Aizawa shook his head, he could wallow up in his guilt later. For now, he needed to comfort his husband and pray that you make it through somehow.

A few hours later, the doctors had given them an update on your condition. You made it, barely. Something had hit your face and damaged some part of your brain, causing there to be a very slow heart beat. But you're all okay now, since they brought you in time.

When they were allowed to finally go in, thats when Aizawa finally broke down. Seeing you unconscious, knowing he almost killed you, it got to him. Hizashi wanted to console Aizawa, but he couldn't bring himself to leave your side. Hizashi pressed soft kisses to your temples, wiping his tears that fell on your cheek, while Aizawa stood to your side. He wanted to hold your hand but he was afraid to hurt you again. As the duo sat by your side, they made a silent promise to never hurt you again, at least not physically.

After that incident, you'll never be left alone. The two are always breathing down your neck, drowning you in love, looking at you with even more fondness; obsession and protectiveness swirling in their eyes, right there with guilt.

Aizawa would never apologise, but that doesn't mean he's not sorry. You would often wake up to him looking at your bruised cheek with worry, caressing it so gently, as if he'd break you. He'll be a lot more demanding with physical affection, always wrapping his arms around you, forcing you onto his lap and tucking your face under his chin as he cards his fingers through your hair.

You didn't think Hizashi could be anymore overbearing, but you were proved wrong. He'd panic if you were out of his sight for more than 5 minutes. Always worrying, paranoia creeping up on him when you're not in the same room as him. And when he would finally find you (mostly in the bathroom), he'd check you all over for injuries, not trusting your assurances.

Punishments aren't violent anymore. They're humiliating. Pulling you in their laps and feeding you by hand, talking about you as if you're not there, making you take baths with them(not showers because they end too quickly), making you sleep with them, naked.

And the couple won't lie, but this form of punishment seems to be far more effective. With how quickly you turn docile, folding in on yourself as if you could hide from them... its cute.

But hey, its better than getting beat, right?

[poptod]

The Old Gods

Description: Jack has to get close to a powerful suspect. Jack also ponders upon his humanity.

Notes: genuinely didnt meant for this to get so long, my apologies, i just like writing conversations bc i never get to have them.  also! I hate myself so much for writing supernatural fanfiction in the good year of our lord 2021. its not my fault, it was the only show i could watch with my cousin that we both liked. anyway! lmk if you like it i could do a part two WC: 11k

+

The nearest library could hardly be called a library. A more accurate description would be a collection of books––a small collection––that could be read freely but never taken from the library itself. There was little need within the Winchesters to visit the library, considering they had one in their home filled with mythical lore, but the records of Kansas and neighboring cities and states were detailed thoroughly in the nearest library.

Jack knew a great many things; inherent natures and laws of the universe, the experience of power and of fear, both before him and within him. Many things he'd seen deserved to be feared, exposing him to dangers often unheard of amongst regular children.

Three months into existence, however, Jack liked to think he knew more than he did when he was born. This was because he'd spoken to more people, experienced more things, and learned select things about his mother, his father, his family, and strangers. Still, there were things that puzzled him––the age of the world was clear in his mind (4.543 billion years, four months, 22 days, 6 hours, and 52 seconds) but how humanity progressed into what they now were astounded him.

"Humans started as... these creatures with unending curiosity," Castiel explained to him, his hands folded neat in his lap but hidden by his too-long trenchcoat sleeves. "Ceaseless innovation. They started without language but they always had kindness. I think.. that's why God favored them, at least at first."

"So... kindness is a form of.. intelligence?" Jack asked slowly, his brow furrowed tight as he stared past his father.

"I believe so," he said, shifting in his seat. "Kindness drove these animals to building homes, to conversing with one another, to creating a better world for descendants they would never know. It's quite beautiful, actually."

"Am I a part of that story?"

Only half-human, only half-alive, only half the story, belonging to nothing concrete. Jack wasn't really human, leaving him alone in his species.

"Yes," Castiel said without hesitation.

Civilization first started off in a number of areas. The first book Jack found dealt with the fertile crescent northeast of Africa, where Mesopotamia brought forth a number of societies, of cultures, meshed together over the course of thousands of years. Sumerians were one of the first to build their cities, creating writing, the wheel, and the plow in their haven apart from the unpredictable and often violent wild.

But no––the next book Jack found stated that Jericho was the oldest city, west to the fertile crescent near the shore of the Mediterranean and the Dead Sea. The citystate was independent from any other power, often becoming abandoned from raids only to return to high populations, as humans flocked back to the spring water that still poured from inside the earth to this day.

Over the rest of the day spent in the nearest library, Jack learned there was no single spot in which civilization was created and then spread from. The Nile in Africa brought forth Egypt, the Indus river in Pakistan birthed the Harappan civilization, and the two rivers Yellow and Yangtze in China created the first asian cities. From there villages, towns, and cities spread like mold across the earth's surface, eventually bringing humans to inhabit every continent and nearly every environment known on earth.

There were far too many things to know, and the strain of reading on his eyes eventually forced him to retire for the day. He hardly understood anything yet, but the librarian was understanding as to his prolonged stay, and wished him a good evening when he left. He beamed a bright smile despite the strange pain growing behind his eyes, and waved good-bye.

Dean gave him painkillers when he got back to the bunker after Jack thoroughly (and unnecessarily) described his headache.

"Humans are... strange," Jack said, his brow furrowed in deep thought. He rested his elbows on the table, leaning over an empty bowl of cereal.

"Not wrong, but, care to elaborate?" asked Sam, who was sitting across from him at the kitchen table, a newspaper and pen in his hand.

"Castiel said you created the first cities out of a desire to.. to protect each other, and to keep yourselves safe. And then the first thing you do when you meet other cities is to go to war with them."

Sam sucked in a sharp breath, leaning back as he set the newspaper aside. This would take a little more concentration than a passing ear.

"People are scared by things they don't know," Sam began only to be cut off.

"Why?"

"They don't know if it's dangerous. You didn't trust us, at first, either. We didn't know whether to trust you. Remember?"

"Oh," Jack said softly.

"Yeah. But you're right," he said with a long sigh. "It's strange. We're... strange."

"Are humans inherently good?"

"I don't think anyone is inherently good," Sam said, and Jack straightened his posture, suddenly confused by his claim. "Every person – every thing, every living thing has – has the capacity for good and evil. It's really just up to the individual to decide which side they want to give into."

"Am I a good person?"

"First off, you're not really a person," said another voice from the doorway.

Sam and Jack both turned at the same time, meeting the eye of Dean, who had yet to change out of his bathrobe despite it being 2PM.

"Second off, you haven't been alive long enough to be a good person," he continued as he entered, an empty coffee cup in hand.

"Dean –" Sam began, only to be cut off.

"What? It's the truth."

The coffee machine buzzed loudly once Dean pushed a few of the buttons, setting his cup beneath the nozzle. He muttered something to himself before turning back to the kitchen table.

"Anything strange in the paper?" He asked, leaning against the counter.

"Maybe," said Sam.

He grabbed the paper again, delving into the details of a nearby missing persons case that soon faded out of Jack's state of mind. His thoughts were still absorbed in his existence, in his beginnings, and how they compared to the beginnings of humans. At least with angels he knew everything; that was how angels were born. Knowing everything.

Jack remained seated at the table when Sam and Dean left, still stewing in his thoughts that he imagined would never go away. It was half an hour later when the two brothers returned, this time fully dressed, and packed up on their way to the car.

"We've gotta go find some local records," Dean said.

"So we're headed to the library," Sam finished, and the two gave each other odd glances at the coincidental synchronicity.

"I was there a couple days ago," Jack said, suddenly perking up. "Can I come with you?"

"Sure, just don't get in the way," Dean said with a dismissive hand, already leaving the doorway.

Sam pursed his lips, letting out a bitter, almost apologetic chuckle before he followed.

He liked the middle seat. It didn't have a seatbelt, but he wasn't sure what seatbelts were for anyways, and the middle seat allowed him easy access to see both of the Winchesters. Dean never spared a glance in his direction while he drove, but Sam offered awkward, curt smiles.

Technically Jack could just fly to the library in an instant, but the drive into town was pretty, lined with the colors of autumn. Recently winds had taken up a more brisk edge, marking the absence of birds that flew in packs overhead. He scooted to one of the window seats, craning his neck awkwardly to look up and out of the glass, grinning at the ravens flying through the orange and gold trees.

The librarian showed the three men where the records were kept, directing them towards missing persons cases when they requested it. While Sam and Dean thumbed through the records, Jack returned to ancient history books, studying art and images from Vedic India.

There, amongst the carvings printed on soft paper, he found something rather odd. He stood from his position on the floor, still staring intensely at the print as he walked over to the table Sam and Dean sat at.

"Hey Jack," Sam said as he sat down, gently placing the book on the table. He scanned Jack's hunched posture before he asked, "something up?"

"I found something... strange," he said, his brow still knotted neatly above curious eyes.

"Yeah well, join the club, kid," Dean said with a groan, wiping his face with his hand.

Jack opened his mouth to ask what they'd seen, but Sam answered before he could speak.

"There's been repeated attacks, kind of," he said, waving his hand vaguely. "Once every ten years a couple of kids go missing. Always two kids, always on the same day of the year."

"And another anomaly," Dean said, reaching over to a stack of papers and slapping them on the table in front of Jack.

Big, black words displayed the newspaper title, and below it, the date of publishing. January 4th, 1967. The main article dealt with a concert happening in a nearby city, and the image printed with it displayed a number of concert-goers, most of them in their teens or early adulthood. Hidden behind several other people, a familiar face appeared––the librarian. Unhindered by time.

"Is that..."

"Big boots over there?" Dean asked, pointing with his thumb in your general direction.

You were sorting through a stack of books, but as Jack looked down, he found you were wearing rather large boots. The ends of your pants drowned in them.

"Do you think they're related?" Jack asked as he turned back to the Winchesters.

"Possibly," Sam said with a nod. "Bit early to tell. But, uh..."

Sam trailed off as his eyes focused on something past Jack's shoulder. He, as well as Dean, turned to meet your eyes that quickly darted away once all three of them were looking at you.

"I think I have an idea," Sam said.

Dean and Jack curiously tilted their heads to the side at the same time, though when Dean noticed that, he fixed himself immediately.

"I think they have a thing for you," he said in a much quieter voice.

"Me?" Jack asked, pushing his finger into his chest.

"Yeah. You could get a little closer and see if something's up."

"Are you seriously setting up Jack with a fuckin' demon, for all we know?" Dean asked flatly, earning an odd look from Sam, who had never heard Dean protest putting Jack in danger.

"Dean, Jack's dad is a demon-angel thing. I don't think it's a big deal," he said.

That seemed to shut the older Winchester up.

"Hm," Jack hummed as he debated the idea. "I also found something strange."

"Oh, right," Sam said, clearing his head with a shake. "What was it?"

"It was also... the librarian," he said with a deep frown. "In one of the books."

He pushed forward the textbook, opening it to reveal the page in which he'd found your face. The stone expression was remarkably similar to your traits, from the curve of your nose to the positioning of your eyes, and the small, polite smile on your lips.

"I found it in the history section," Jack explained. "It says it's from Vedic India."

A quick Google-search later, Sam was reading out the age of Vedic India.

"According to this it says the Vedic age was approximately around 1500 to 800 B.C., so... about 2,500 years ago."

"Wow, this fucker's old," Dean snorted.

Sam shot him a look over the top of his computer screen.

Having found the information they were looking for, the Winchesters began to pack up their belongings and their scribbled notes, shoving them into their bags or into their many-pocketed coats. Jack, on the other hand, prepared himself for talking to you, hoping his ineptness towards social situations with humans wouldn't be too obvious. He swallowed through the knot in his throat, taking a shaking breath in an attempt to steady himself.

It didn't work.

"Dean, what am I supposed to say to them?" He whispered when they were already approaching the front desk, his palms growing sweaty.

"I don't know, their job or something? Something normal," he very unhelpfully advised.

"Thanks for letting us stay for the day," Sam said with a polite smile, handing back one of the printed out records you'd fetched for them from beneath your desk.

"Not a problem. You keep quiet. I like that in a reader," you said, smiling back as you glanced between the three of them.

None of them moved, and your expression turned to mild confusion. Dean had to jab Jack in the side to get him to speak. He opened his mouth to protest, but Dean motioned something to Sam, and the two of them quickly left for the car, leaving Jack alone while they 'situated' themselves.

"I, um..." Jack started before he was ready.

The silence felt wrong, but the silence after saying something was much, much worse. Whatever came into his mind first would have to be what he said.

"I like your job," he said, keenly scanning your expression for any hint of your thoughts.

You paused, clearly taken back for a moment, before you broke out into a chuckle, looking down to your hands as your face flushed.

"I like it quite a lot, too," you said with a grin, looking back up at him. "I've always been interested in becoming a librarian. Granted, I didn't quite imagine it in Kansas, but it is pretty here."

"Where did you imagine it?"

"Greece, actually," you chuckled, and he smiled as well, his heart thumping with a sudden haste. "I was heartbroken to hear the Library of Alexandria was burned down."

"The Library of Alexandria?" He repeated, tilting his head to the side again.

"Haven't heard of it?" You asked.

He shook his head gingerly. Was he supposed to?

No matter––you explained in full what the Library of Alexandria was, when it was created, when it was burnt, and the loss it caused amongst human society. He listened intently, frequently asking questions you were happy to answer. When Jack glanced out the library window, he found the impala gone, and realized Sam's plan had, in a way, worked.

"Are there.. any books about the library?" He asked once you completed your short story.

"Yes, but I don't want to hold you folks up –"

It was then you looked out the window as well, finding the two large men had abandoned the smaller.

"Oh where'd they go?" You said in a curious, high voice.

"Don't worry about that, I... have a bus," he said, earning a strange look. "I am... I ride buses."

A beat of silence passed.

"So the Library was in Greece?" He asked, and your earlier mood returned.

You brought him––with much excitement––to one of the rows in the library filled with simple textbooks for primary school kids. Other rows of your well-tended library were occupied by old books, their bindings worn and frayed at the edges from continuous use. Pages were turned yellow and were soft beneath his fingers, but despite their age they were rather hard for Jack to read and understand, meaning his discovery of children's comprehensible textbooks was a giddy one.

Jack wasn't entirely sure what he was supposed to be looking for when it came to you. What counted as suspicious? You continued to speak with him even after the sun set behind mountains, that could be a sign you were trying to gather information on him, as well. That could also mean you liked him. Was your friendliness suspect?

"- and the Phoenicians were really only called that by the Grecians. The name came from the purple dye that they're famous for, some root word for 'purple people' in Greek is Phoenicia," you explained, moving your hands expressively despite the fact that Jack's eyes were set dead on the textbook on the floor in front of you. Paragraphs of words surrounded modern depictions of ancient people and their art.

"So what was their actual name?" He asked as he looked up to you.

"Canaanites. From the land of Canaan."

"... you know a lot," he said, looking back to the page as you chuckled.

"It's just memory," you said with a shrug.

"Can I... can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"Do you know anything about mythical creatures?"

Surely this would reveal something, Jack thought––you might react poorly, in which case you could be the monster, or you might react in complete knowledge, which... could also mean you were the monster.

"A little," you said slowly. "Why do you ask?"

"I have an interest, in myths and monsters," he said, almost smiling again.

"Oh man, I have a show you're going to love."

Far in the back of the library, a hollow, steel door led to a small break room, the carpet inside being a dark, scratchy grey against his palms when he sat down. There were no chairs in the room, but an old TV sat on a cheap cart plugged into the nearest, bare wall. On the opposite side of the TV was a dull blue counter that stretched from the door to a window covered by plastic shingle curtains.

You snatched the remote off the counter, pressing a large, red button that had the television buzzing to life loudly. The screen sparked, static radiating around it as a thin line of white brought life to a Netflix loading screen.

After several minutes of waiting for Netflix to load and then typing a title into the search bar, a show called Myths and Monsters was before him. He let out a laugh as he realized what had sparked the connection––he'd literally spoken the title.

Would an ancient being or monster know how to work a TV?

Castiel could work a TV.

Kind of.

The first episode began to play and you took a seat beside Jack, crossing your legs neatly beneath you. A few minutes in, rain pattered lightly on the roof, followed by sudden winds that battered the now pouring rain against the window. Jack watched through the side of his eye as you smiled at the change in weather.

That was suspicious.

Late in the evening, when night darkened the land and heavy thunderclouds darkened the sky, he left the library. He stood in the threshold between the warm light on your desk in the otherwise dark room, and the falling rain outside. Yellow-orange streetlamps illuminated the sheets of rain and the nearby bus stop, but you still stopped him, holding the door open as you both stood motionless in front of one another.

"I have a car, I can drive you home," you offered, gesturing over your shoulder to a door in the back that led to a private parking lot behind the library. "I'm not sure if the bus runs this late."

Extended time with you would be good, and he imagined your face illuminated by dim dashboard car lights would be better than good––great. Beautiful. You had wonderfully warm features. But you couldn't know where he lived for a number of reasons; if you were the monster, that was giving away a hiding place, and if you weren't, you would wonder why he lived in such a strange place.

"Thank you, but it's alright," he said. "I like the rain."

A small smile stretched across your plush lips.

"So do I," you said, and the two of you bid good-bye, retreating into your respective dark.

He gave a thorough rundown of the events proceeding after Sam and Dean left, and the three of them––Sam, Dean, and Castiel––listened closely. Dean already filled Castiel in on the rest of the case, and the two brothers were eating at the long table in the bunker's library.

They stared at him in silence when he finished.

"Sounds like a regular kid," Sam finally said.

"Ah don't be so sure about that," Dean said, raising a single brow. "What did you say the monster probably was?"

"A – a fae, or something," he said.

"Fae's good at lying," Dean pointed out, earning a reluctant nod from Castiel.

"He's right. Fairies are remarkably good at acting," he said in his low, grating voice.

"So... what next?" Jack asked.

"We'll keep looking into the case more, and you can probably ask the librarian out on a date," Sam suggested, earning an agreeing remark from Dean. "You can keep them distracted while we search their house."

"Do we know where they live yet?" asked Dean.

"No, but it shouldn't be too hard to find out," Sam said.

Jack watched the brothers for a moment, his mind emptying of answers as to what a 'date' was.

"What's a date?"

"Oh Christ," Dean muttered, moving immediately to his feet and leaving the room.

Sam let out an exasperated sigh at his brother, turning to Jack to explain what a date was, what were appropriate date activities, and how he should act when asking you out and when being out with you.

"Okay," Jack said with a nod despite not really understanding. "What are dates for?"

"They're between people who are interested in.. getting to know each other," Castiel said as he took a seat beside Sam across from Jack.

"So... like when Dean and I went driving."

"No. Not like that," Sam quickly said. "Not like that at all. If – if a guy is interested in a girl, like interested in having her be his girlfriend, then he might ask her out on a date. It's a romantic thing."

"The librarian does seem to be interested in you, from what I’ve heard," Castiel said with a pointed look in Jack's direction.

"I think you've got a shot," Sam agreed, nodding.

Jack thought for a moment before he said, "okay."

A few days later––Dean insisted he only try a few days later, saying anything less was damaging his honor––Jack returned to the library, lighting up when he found you were still working at the small front desk, your nose buried in a large box full of papers. Large, round glasses were hanging off the tip of your nose, and you pushed them up to your eyes when they slipped further off.

The door clicked softly shut behind him when he entered, scanning the room as if there was another reason he was there. You watched him the whole time, continuing to when he approached you, something obviously on his mind.

"I was wondering..." he trailed off, losing himself in your bright, expectant eyes. When he realized he'd fallen silent, he added the first thing that came to mind––a lie. "... if you could show me where the... books are."

You chuckled before you said, "which ones?"

"Maps," he said, smiling as he came up with something actually substantial.

Of course, it wasn't asking you out, but at least it was talking to you. He would have to do that later, though he supposed he'd have to do it that day or he would be disappointing the Winchesters and Castiel when he came back to the bunker without even trying to complete their orders.

"We don't really have a maps section, but I might be able to help you if you tell me the time and place you're looking for," you suggested for him, and he nodded slowly.

"Yes. Please."

"So what are you looking for?"

"Oh. Right, uh.. Greece and Mediterranean," he said, repeating subjects from the last time you'd spoken.

"Mediterranean sea?"

He nodded.

"What year?" You asked.

"Uh..." he drew another blank, "two... hundred."

You seemed reluctant to ask the next question, but it was necessary; "before christ or after?"

"... before."

"Alright," you said with a soft snicker, moving around your crowded desk area and towards the bookcases.

Your stride slowed as you approached a certain shelf, shifting up onto the tips of your toes to reach the highest books. Jack thought of offering his help, but he wasn't much taller than you––if at all––and he didn't know which books to get down.

Four thick books ended up in your arms, and you heaved them over to the nearest table, letting them thump down heavily. You spread them out, flipping rapidly through the pages till you found the proper maps you seemed to have memorized within each of the books.

"This one's about 900 BC to 200 AD, so it's got a bit wider of a range. Includes the bigger cities. This one is.. 1500 BC to 300 BC, so a little bit within range, has a lot more cities," you said, moving from one textbook to the next while Jack stared at you, enamored by your plush lips.

He barely even noticed that you finished your explanations, nor your quick words mentioning you should probably return to your studies and leave him to it. But he reached out on instinct, grabbing your wrist and tugging gently, convincing you to turn back to him. Your eyes, still bright, retained that same patient expectancy as his previous evening with you.

"I... could you talk to me?" He asked, oblivious to the implications read clearly by you.

"About what?" You asked in return as you stepped subtly closer.

"About fairies."

You paused, your eyes widening slightly.

"The ones from Celtic folklore or... like modern media fairies?" You asked slowly, slinking down into a seat you situated to face him.

He did the same, his feet planted firmly on the floor as he watched you, a smile tugging at his lips.

"Just... the oldest versions of fairies."

You nodded, again slowly as you pursed your lips.

"Well the oldest mentions of them in literature actually comes from ancient Greece, from the Iliad, by Homer," you began, immediately using your hands expressively as you spoke. "Those weren't Celtic fairies, though. Greeks considered creatures like satyrs and such to be fairies, as well, so... generally fairies and the fae as we think of them now came from Ireland and Scotland."

"Where are they?" He asked with a head tilt.

You stuttered for a second, your eyes flying across the room until you stood, returning to the shelves. He watched with much humor as you read the book titles at a frightening pace, fingers flipping over the bindings till you pulled one down.

"Here, world map," you said, and though he didn't notice, you didn't comment on the oddity of not knowing where Scotland and Ireland were. Almost everyone knew where those two countries were; or, at least, the general area.

"In Ireland fairies are seen as simply... mythical people. Great warriors and poets, or witches, they're all considered part of the fae in Celtic culture. In Scotland, though, fairies are more dangerous, essentially being creatures that feed off humans in one way or another," you continued. "Like... banshees, those are Scottish, and jack o' lanterns."

"Jack o' lanterns?"

He'd heard of banshees before; they were mentioned a few times by the Winchester brothers.

"Not like the Halloween pumpkins," you said, but when you were met with further confusion, you slowly said, "...and you don't know what those are either, do you?"

He shook his head reluctantly.

You spent the next two, whole hours talking to him, going over any question he had no matter how much you thought he should've known the answer to begin with. Jack relaxed into that feeling, into that ease, while suspicion grew in your own mind. There was no one of his age and stature that didn't know the questions he posed. Still, you found yourself unable to pin any such wariness of manipulation onto such a polite boy.

Engrossed fully in whatever you had to say and rarely speaking himself, Jack absorbed a number of facts about the fae. About their trickery and mischief, about their magic, how different species had different thoughts on humanity. Considering the lengths you knew about other subjects, none of what you told him occurred to him as suspicious. You seemed, again, to be a dedicated––but human––scholar.

When at last he exhausted his questions, both on and off topic, he began a build-up of courage. Asking someone out for a case should've been much easier than this, or at least that's what he thought. Dean mentioned he'd done similar things for other such cases.

Jack's face scrunched up in deep thought despite the silence between you.

"Are you alright, Jack?" You asked.

"Oh. I'm... fine," he said, nodding his head in a way that didn't convince you all that well. "I – I wanted to ask you something."

You nodded, gently helping him along.

"I know we don't know each other that well, but... you.. interest me, and.." he trailed off once more. It was difficult to tell a lie that was technically the truth. "I was wondering if you wanted to go with me. On a date."

He expected a number of things from you––perhaps anger, perhaps embarrassment, perhaps shock, but you just chuckled, leaning back in your chair. His brow furrowed at your odd reaction. Were you laughing at him?

"Was that what you wanted to ask me when you first came in?" You said through your giggles, your soft skin glowing in the warm, early evening light.

"... yes," he said, huffing out his own chuckle as his eyes fell to the floor. "I'm sorry."

"There's no need to apologize," you said with a grin. “You’re the one who had to listen to me ramble.”

"So.. will you..?"

"Yeah," you chuckled, nodding. "I enjoy your company as well."

A smile made a permanent home on Jack's face as he returned to the bunker, his official mission having been successfully completed, and his hands still burning with the touch you left as he walked out the door. While most of the town smelled like baking pies and cinnamon cider, the bunker carried no such warmth, and smelled more like rotting leaves than anything else, though Sam lit a couple apple candles in his room. The scent filled part of a long hallway.

He found his fathers all sitting on a single couch, facing a television that had some sort of film playing on it through the static. Jack silently stepped round the nearest chair, taking a seat beside them, and watching on intently. A soft, high note hummed from the speakers.

Red, ratted curtains pulled way for sunlight streaming through dust-filled air. The wooden windowsill had a vase in which a single, molted flower sat, most of its petals having fallen off long ago. But that wasn't where the camera stopped; it halted above the image of two women tangled in sheets similarly worn down as the curtains were, requiring many patches over large holes. One had their face pressed to the other's neck, her nose nudging a sharp jawline owned by still sleeping eyes. Their limbs were knotted tight together, chest to chest, and a quiet, sleepy melody humming out of the smaller's pale lips.

Jack frowned. He'd never seen two people so physically close together. The nearest thing he'd seen was Dean and Castiel hugging, and even that was reserved in a way. This was pure trust––pure peace, and he found himself wondering if it was entirely fictional, or if such happiness could really exist in the world that at times felt poisoned.

Maybe it did exist if you found a way to smile that brightly.

He earned a whole other course of schooling once he announced their plan was successful. Dean clapped him proudly on the back, shooting a dirty grin that Sam countered with clean praise. Even Castiel seemed to be proud. Jack beamed at that, his heartbeat now pounding at the thought of three days from now; when he had planned the date.

In the meantime, the brothers stayed up for most of the night, though they looked much worse for wear that morning than Jack after he stayed up with them. Researching faes was actually a little easier than a lot of other monsters––there were many articles about them, and a deeply-engrained fear of changeling children had led to thorough documentation on the fae realm and its inhabitants. Jack was still a little slow at typing, so Sam captained the computer research, while Jack sped through the books in the bunker's library. Dean looked through articles and stories in newspapers searching for any hint of where they children might be kept if they weren't immediately killed.

The more he read about fairies, about their habits, their composure, and their lies, the less he could picture you as one. Originally a fairy brought to mind someone beautiful and fair, or someone like you, with dazzling eyes that could stop an archangel in their step. But the sharp teeth and wicked, wirey hair didn't sound at all like you. He'd felt your hands––once brushing over his––and there were no claws or stinging sensations that lingered in your touch. Still, the Winchesters probably knew better than him, and he pushed the feeling aside.

In the next evening, after Dean took a long day nap, Sam and Dean set to packing up their tools and tricks once more, tossing them into the back of the impala with the rest of the permanent fixtures. Jack watched as they did this, his hair still neat and clean despite not sleeping or washing up for two days.

"Can I come with?" He asked in the politest voice he could manage.

They were headed off to the library under the cover of night. After hearing about several back rooms Jack noticed during his time there, a reasonable question was posed––was there more information you could be hiding?

"Uh –" Sam began, only to be cut off by Dean saying –

"No. If we get found, that's fine, but if you're with us, we lose your relationship with her."

Before Jack could reply Dean climbed into the drivers seat, followed by Sam clambering in beside him. He had issues getting into the car at times. The engine stuttered to life, and Sam waved good-bye through the windshield as they pulled and drove the car away.

Jack frowned, his brow knitted together again.

"Bye," he said, but he was the only one to hear it.

Castiel would be back soon. He decided waiting in the library would guarantee he'd see Castiel as soon as possible, something he desired, as there were a number of new questions he wanted to pose to the elder angel. Thousands of years his senior, Castiel must've had answers––some sort of insight to some strange impulses, or simply comfort against 'wrong' thoughts.

Technically your library was private, meaning others weren't allowed to take your books away from the building, but you allowed him to take something home under the assurance of a guarantee. He would return it next time he saw you, a promise that clearly meant a lot to you going by the ease that overtook you when he said 'okay' with a signature, sweet smile. The only reason you leant the book to him was because it contained information you considered thought-provoking, thoughts about how humanity evolves, and how technological advances could change the actual anatomy of the human mind. Some of the claims seemed to him to be a bit of a reach, but others brought him interesting points.

The metal latch on the door let out a resounding click as the door swung open, Castiel standing behind with wild hair and a stunned look about him. He flung the door shut before running down the stairs towards Jack.

"Have they gotten back from the library yet?" He asked as he approached.

"No, they left..." he glanced at the clock, "a couple hours ago."

"Hmm," Castiel grumbled. "That's a long time for them."

"Should we go help them?" Jack suggested, setting your book aside as he stood straighter in his chair.

"No, we'll give them some more time. See what happens," he said before he set off, jogging into the hall.

Jack sighed as he slumped back into his seat, almost mourning the death of an easy excuse to go see your library. And Castiel left before he could ask him anything. Dean had a point, though––if they were caught and he was with them, that would ruin your relationship entirely, and that was something he, for some reason, despised.

It took another hour and a half before Sam and Dean were waltzing back in from the garage, tossing their duffel bags aside and shucking off warm, autumn jackets to side chairs. Something must've given away their presence, as Castiel was quick to reenter the main room.

"How did it go?" He asked.

"Like shit," Dean said, not even bothering to stop as he passed Castiel.

"We didn't find anything," Sam clarified. "Whole place was clean."

"Well.. maybe it's at their house," Castiel said almost gingerly, turning to keep his ever-vigilant eyes on the elder Winchester. "All the tools and... stuff."

"Yeah, that's what we're hoping," Dean said as he disappeared into the hallway.

"When did you say your date was again?" Sam asked, turning to Jack, who blanked for a moment before he answered.

"Two days from now," he said.

"Alright, well... we'll see what happens," he said with a nod, setting his hands on his hips. "Hopefully find where they might be hiding the kids."

Dean reentered with a bottle in hand, taking a quick swig as he settled down into one of the cushier chairs.

Jack's heart sped when his fingers began to fidget together, squirming restlessly in front of him. Questions still lingered on the edge of his mind, and answers from anyone would do him well, though he was well aware Dean would probably be reluctant to offer any advice to him.

"Could I ask you some questions?" He asked in the general direction of Cas, who happened to be standing right beside Dean. Castiel opened his mouth to answer.

"Sure," Dean said before he could speak. Castiel promptly shut his mouth after that.

"I know this shouldn't get in the way of the case, and it won't," Jack said as he took a seat opposite Dean. He and his brother shot each other glances. "I just have strange... thoughts, when I am around the librarian. Impulses, kind of."

Dean, who had raised the bottle to his lips, paused at those words and set it down instead, a decision that shocked both Sam and Castiel.

"What kind of impulses?" He asked in a flat voice.

"I want to... eat them," Jack said slowly, his brow furrowed deeply as he looked at the ground. When he looked back up, all three men were staring at him.

"You want to what??" Castiel asked.

"Like.. put my mouth on them...?" He tried.

"Wait – you mean kissing?" Sam asked as he shifted his weight between his feet.

"N... no, I don't think it's that," Jack said, though he was growing even less sure of himself with how they continued to gawk at him.

"You want to make out with the fairy?" Dean asked with a look that screamed 'unbelievable'.

"Maybe?" was the best answer Jack could offer.

Dean sighed, rubbing his face tiredly with his free hand.

"I don't want to.. encourage these thoughts," Castiel said, "but they might help on your date."

"So I should kiss them?"

"Maybe at the end of it," Sam suggested.

"And... how do I kiss?"

"Fuckin' –" Dean muttered under his breath as he stood, leaving the room with annoyance in his scowl.

The three of them––Jack, Sam, and Castiel––watched Dean round the corner and disappear.

"Ignore him," Sam said.

Sam, with some help from Castiel, patiently re-explained the happenings and ongoings of dates, from conversation topics to activities often done on dates. Sam assured Jack that he needn't do anything dramatic, over the top, or especially original, since Jack 'wasn't actually going on a date,' a phrase that made him a little sad for a reason he couldn't identify.

A bouquet of chocolate roses lay in his hands, the neon and florescent lights of the convenience store flickering and buzzing above him. Sam insisted a good way to start a date was with a gift––conventionally flowers, but the second Jack saw the chocolate roses he was entranced. He'd never seen candy in the shape of something real. Surely you would be delighted by the art, as well. Sam was less sure than he was, but allowed him to buy it with a chuckle, muttering something about how he wouldn't need to get chocolates anymore.

"Now remember," Sam began as he adjusted Jack's collar, "blood-soaked iron is what kills them, but since we don't have that right now, I think iron should hurt them."

"Forks, fire pokers, metal pipes... those usually have iron in them," said Dean.

"And if you get into a fight, just get out of there," Sam finished.

"No hanky-panky, either," Dean said.

"Dean," he hissed, slapping his brother's arm.

"What's hanky-panky?" Jack asked, furrowing his brow.

"Nevermind, just––be safe, have fun," Sam said with a smile, patting his shoulder.

The brothers dropped him off at your house before circling the block in search of a good vantage point. He took a shaky breath as he climbed your steps, soon rapping his knuckles on the plain, wooden door. It was a bit of a task trying to swallow, but he managed to push past his tight throat and put a smile on his face.

Footsteps sounded, growing closer until the door opened, revealing your wide eyes and the olive green silk you wore, draping elegantly from your chest down to your feet. A heavyweight scarf rested upon your shoulders. The warm light of the hallway behind you illuminated the loose strands of your always messy hair, but the sight still had his lips parting as he gasped softly. He felt suddenly out of place in his simple button-down, pants, and everyday jacket, shifting his weight almost uncomfortably as he found himself at a loss for words.

"You look... really nice," he said rather awkwardly, gesturing vaguely to your outfit with a dopey smile.

"Thanks," you said, chuckling. "You look nice too."

He stared for another moment before he suddenly remembered the chocolate and foil roses in his hands.

"I got these for you," he said as he handed them to you, scanning every inch of your reaction. "Sam told me to get flowers, but I think this is better, ‘cause then you get to eat them."

"You actually can eat roses! They just don't taste very good," you giggled, fixing your hair as you took them, a blushing smile still on your face. "I do like chocolate more, though."

"Oh, good," he said, his shoulders finally falling from their tense position. "I hope you don't mind walking. I don't know how to drive."

"I like walking, actually," you said as you walked past him, trotting down the front steps of your house. He followed along, his soft brown hair flopping like a puppy's ears over innocent eyes. "I like taking walks at night, but I don't take them a lot. It's kind of dangerous."

"Why?"

"A lot of people aren't very nice, or they're down on their luck and make poor decisions. I don't want to get hurt or mugged just because I like wandering around."

"Why would someone hurt you? You're such a nice person," he said with a frown.

"That doesn't mean anything," you laughed softly.

Food wasn't a particular attraction of Kansas, but few things were. The amount of restaurants in town was high, most of them serving a very similar menu containing lots of meat, barbecue, pie, and sometimes funnel cake. None were all that classy, so Jack took you to a place that Sam recommended––a nearly 24 hours open cafe whose kitchen was always open, and who hosted quiet, live jazz on select evenings.

You and Jack spoke of a number of things while you walked, none more interesting than any of your previous conversation topics, as you seemed to want to stay on the topic of him as a person rather than the history you usually rambled about. You asked who Sam was, which he explained as one of his fathers, at which point you asked who the second was. He hesitated for a moment, unsure if he should tell the truth or formulate a more normal-person lie.

"I... my mother died in childbirth," he said, his voice uncharacteristically low and quiet, murmuring with the sureness of his trust in you. "My father, Castiel, takes care of me, with his brothers, Sam and Dean."

"Oh. I'm sorry," you murmured, and he opened his mouth to give the usual speech––it's alright, I've gotten used to it––but you continued with, "it's an honorable way to die."

He paused to absorb your words. No one had ever said that before.

"Yeah," he finally said. "I guess you're right."

"So what's your father like?"

He sucked in a breath, forced to once again decide between a truth, a half-truth, and a lie. Like with most things, he took the middle road.

"My genetic father isn't... I don't talk to him," he said.

"Oh."

"But Castiel is good. He always tries to do what's right. I'm still trying to learn about this whole.. being-alive thing, from him."

"I think we all are," you chuckled.

You ended up ordering for him when you finally got to the cafe, standing in line for only a few minutes before you were looking for a table. He had trouble understanding the menu, often asking you what things were, and eventually you had to gently push him on to let the next people in line have a turn. If this bothered you, it didn't show.

Piano and saxophone played in time with one another, their rhythms and melodies dancing around the beat of the drummer. Scant, warm light shone from above, illuminating the haze of clouds drifting from smokers, most of whom stood in the corner, nursing the embers as they watched the musicians play. Jack tapped his foot to the beat against the dark oak floor.

You joined him a moment later, two coffees in hand and your coat draped over your arm.

"Have you ever been here before?" You asked as you took a seat, casting your jacket over the back of the chair after you set the coffee down.

"No, I don't really get out much," he admitted.

"How come?"

"I don't.. really have friends," he admitted, again, though this time much more reluctantly. He'd heard that generally people respected you more if you had friends.

"That's alright," you said, leaning back with a soft smile made only more alluring by the dim, red and orange light. "I've found it's more fun to stay in than to go out sometimes. Everything becomes the same after a while. You can drink at home, you can dance at home, sing, host parties..." you sipped from your steaming cup, ".. so, obviously, I don't go out much either."

"You have friends, though?"

"Not really," you chuckled, glancing down. "Books last longer than conversation, generally."

"Then... why talk to me?" He asked, attempting to meet your eye with that knot still tucked into his brow.

"Because you came to me."

Soon your conversation was halted by a server bringing out your food. You made sure to thank him as he left, before hungry eyes settled eagerly upon your funnel cake. Unwrapping the napkin, you set the orange cloth on your lap, revealing your silverware. Jack followed your lead, copying your motions near exactly down to you rubbing your hands together excitedly.

He'd never tried funnel cake before, leaving him to melt as he took his first bite.

"Good, isn't it?" You chuckled through a full mouth.

He nodded ardently.

The crowd began to thin halfway through your meal, turning thick conversation to quiet murmurs confined to singular tables in corners and shadowed areas. Jack still had yet to find anything incriminating about you, an answer that led only to other questions, ones that flew wildly around his head.

You didn't seem human––at least, not entirely. There were things you said that hinted to something else, a knowledge within that was a little too wide for the lengths of a human mind. That and your soul; what he could see of your soul was strangely colored, florescent holographic, and warped far more than normal people's usually were––almost as warped as Sam and Dean's souls now were. Bright, yes, but warped. Something had happened to you.

But there was nothing bad within you. Darkness tinted the edges, the edges so often scraped by the world around you––the world around both of you––but the center within, where your heart emanated, was clear. It was actually rather beautiful; you were rather beautiful.

He wished he could tell you without seeming strange.

"What do you think about most, Jack?" You asked, pulling him away from his thoughts.

He instantly stuttered, as what he'd been thinking about was you, but he couldn't say that.

"Just.. uh, my, uh.. my place in the world," he said, tapping the end of his fork on the old wood table.

"Like your job, or your purpose as a human?" You asked as you sipped from your third refill of coffee.

"My purpose, sort of," he said, his eyes flickering to the ground. "I have a lot of responsibility. My father thinks I'm very powerful."

Was that giving too much away?

"What does he want you to do?"

"He wants me... to stay alive," he said, earning a soft chuckle from you that had a smile spreading across his own face. "I think he wants me to be safe and happy."

"That's a wonderful goal," you said with a grin. "And there are so many ways to achieve that."

So far he'd only found ways to achieve the opposite––how to antagonize the world by existing, how his grandfather wanted him dead, how his genetic father would use him for any power grab he posed. If you wanted to feel at risk of dying at any moment, he knew a thousand ways to do it.

"I haven't really found any," he said quietly.

You paused before you asked, "do you want my advice?"

He nodded, hesitantly at first, but sure of himself when you smiled softly.

"Always be kind to others. Mind your own business unless someone is getting hurt, and if you have to get your hands dirty, do it for only a second. Then get the hell out of there and wash yourself clean for the next hundred couple years," you said.

There it was again. A hint of something more. In passing conversations Jack heard from strangers, no one spoke like they lived history. Not like you did. And he'd wager no historian spoke with the sense of memory that you did.

"Anything specific make you realize that?" He asked, unable to stop himself from chuckling.

You looked his age––sometime in your 20's––but you spoke like an 80 year old. Something about that facade appeared humorous to him. He also looked your age––sometime in his 20′s––but he spoke like a 10 year old far more than he liked to admit.

"Family drama," you said dismissively. "I've been steering clear for a while now."

Did fairies have families?

Well, if you were a fairy, you could just be lying then.

Jack frowned. If Dean or Castiel were here, they would know what to say and think.

"I understand," was what he said instead.

The impala was still parked near the house by the time Jack was walking you home, a sight that nearly sent him panicking. Sam and Dean wouldn't want him to do that. So he clenched his fists in his pockets, his shoulders tightening ever so slightly as he tried to slow his pace in a way you wouldn't notice.

But you did. Of course you did.

"You alright, Jack?" You asked, matching his pace.

"Yeah, I just..." what was something normal to say? Something he could back up – "I meant to ask you something, but I didn't ever... find the time to."

"What was it you wanted to ask?"

He shivered as a brisk wind picked up, the dry, orange leaves on the edges of the sidewalk passing quick by his feet in the breeze.

"Do you think everyone feels this lost in life?" He asked, barely audible above the wind.

"There's a little bit of you in everybody, just like how there's a little bit of everybody in you. You're capable of the same things that a murderer is just as you are a... a hero, or a martyr," you said, taking time to think before you spoke. "Humans are remarkably similar, you come to see after a while. And even Gods face these questions, these wonderings of their origins and their purpose, if their creations are everything they're meant for or – or if they're doing something wrong, and they should be doing something else instead."

He continued to stare at the ground as you walked slowly side by side, brought out of his intense expression by something soft flopping over the back of his neck. His heart thrummed as you stopped him there, turning him to face you, and looking him in the eye as you fixed your scarf on his shoulders. The effect was instantaneous––his shoulders relaxed and the stress fell from his brow, absorbed in the warmth of your gesture.

"Whatever you're going through," you gave him a pointed look, telling him silently to not deny this truth, "is worse and better than what other people go through. It may not be the best but it's probably not the worst."

Your advice, though insightful, didn't mean much considering his problems had to do with the continued life or prompt execution of the entire universe by a bitter, old man. But the main point remained; there were more painful deaths than his, just as there were better ways to die than he would or will. He may not be facing the best circumstances, but they could be much worse, and the fact that normal humans often asked the same questions he did was more of a comfort than he thought it would be. Perhaps he really was connected to his mother in that way.

The steps creaked beneath your shared weight as you both approached the front door of your house. You opened the door, stepping partway through the threshold before you turned to him, hesitation lacing your open mouth.

Behind you, Jack managed to spot two shadowed figures running across the hallway towards what he presumed to be a back door. His eyes widened imperceptibly and he pursed his lips, quick averting his gaze back to you.

"You're special, Jack," you said quietly, scanning him with a careful look. "Don't let bad circumstances own you. You only get so much time in this world."

"You're very kind," was all he could managed to respond with. "Thanks for... going out with me tonight."

"Of course. I like talking to you."

"I'm glad you do," he said with a sheepish chuckle, one you mimicked as you fixed your hair.

"I'll see you again soon?"

"Yes, I – oh," he interrupted himself, remembering your scarf still enveloping him, "this belongs to you."

"Don't worry about it," you said, taking his arms and settling them back down to his sides. "It's kind of cold out tonight, and I'm assuming you're walking home... aren't you?"

"... yeah," he lied, blood rushing to his face at the thought of taking a piece of you home.

"Then I'll get it back another time," you said, smiling.

You hesitated to close the door again, and instead you gingerly moved forward, raising yourself to press a single, soft kiss to his cheek, the edge of it just barely touching his lips. His mouth parted in surprise, but before he could say anything you shut the door.

He walked back to the impala completely starstruck.

"I don't think they're dangerous," Jack said, restating what he'd said earlier to Sam and Dean on the drive home––he just couldn't see you as suspicious. Strange, yes, but not murderous.

"If what you say is true, though, then this is quite likely a fae," said Castiel as his eyes flickered from Jack to Sam and Dean.

"See? Facts are facts, kid," Dean said, pointing to Castiel with a smile.

"Hexbags, crystals, actual photos with them from, like, 1890? And the amount of plants," Sam continued with a slight shudder.

"How many plants were there?" Castiel asked, frowning sternly.

"Too damn many," Dean answered for him. "The point is, we gotta interrogate that thing."

"They didn't do anything wrong!" Jack said, his voice tripling without his knowledge.

Everyone in the room reacted accordingly––stiff postures and sharp breaths as the golden light faded in his eyes.

"Jack..." Castiel began hesitantly, his voice quiet and low.

He barely uttered out an 'I'm sorry,' before he turned and left, disappearing down the hallway and into his room.

It took him nearly a whole day to leave his room, having spent most of the time alone to brood and ponder over his actions, and whether or not he was being manipulated by a fairy creature. He couldn't deny the fact that there was a chance he was wrong and he was under your control, thus landing him with the only sane decision, somehow; trust Sam and Dean.

Silence surrounded him as he padded through the bunker, headed towards the kitchens after not eating for nearly 24 hours. Technically he could live without food for much, much longer than that, even without sleep, but it wasn't a particularly pleasant experience.

When he reached the kitchen he also found it empty. In fact, the whole bunker sounded empty, leaving all the cereal for him. He smiled.

Sam and Dean returned before Castiel did, though after their return they hid away doing 'private business' in the basement area. Jack tried to ask what it was they were doing, but Dean curtly brushed him off, sending him back upstairs to go clean up the mess they left in the kitchen after a quick, midnight dinner.

As he was scrubbing the dishes, a door lock clattered in the distance, marking Castiel's return. Now that the fort was manned again, he could sneak off to see you in the morning. Castiel informed him that showing up at people's houses at midnight could be seen in a very bad way. He knew you wouldn't judge him, but he still didn't want to embarrass himself, and it was only a few more hours to wait till dawn.

He could fly. He could also ask Sam or Dean to drive him (while he could also ask to drive Baby, he knew the answer would be an ardent no), but the grey clouds promised rain, and the smell of rain hitting the leaf-covered earth pleasured his mind. With your scarf wrapped around him, he could avoid the cold as well.

His feet were a little tired by the time your library came into view, though still warm in the crisp air from fuzzy, woolen socks. The frayed edges of your scarf fluttered about chaotically in the wind as he noticed something rather odd––the library wasn't open. None of the lights were turned on, the chairs were still atop the tables, and you were nowhere to be seen. He had left the bunker a little early, but you always opened by 5AM at the latest, and it was 8 now.

For several minutes he hadn't a clue as to what to do, meaning he stood motionless in silence in front of the glass door, his head tilting slowly to the side in confusion. Maybe you woke up late––that would explain it. You were perfectly safe in your bed, dozing after a good night's sleep, completely unharmed.

But things rarely worked out so easily for Jack. Your home was empty, no sign of your disappearance left as your shoes, jacket, keys, and wallet were still left by the front door. In a sudden panic at the thought of your absence, the world around him flickered for a split second before he appeared in the bunker's war room. Knowing the usual fate of the people he cared about, you were probably being hurt, perhaps kidnapped by the actual fae who'd been killing the children, or lost of your own volition in a forest you wandered too far into.

"Castiel." Jack grabbed the angel's coat sleeve, stopping him on the way to the stairs. "I went looking for the librarian and they're missing."

"Missing?" Castiel repeated with a grimace. "Did you check the library and the house?"

"Yes, I couldn't find them."

"They might be headed for the children," he said, sending a pang through Jack's heart that he ignored.

"Is... is there a way to track a fae?"

"There's no spell I know of," Castiel said, his gaze falling to the floor as he scanned his mind. "But if it's a magical creature, it may carry a sort of... a sort of scent."

"A scent?" Jack furrowed his brow, wondering if something could carry your scent.

Something you'd been around a while. Something like your books, or your bed, or –

Jack jumped after he realized he was still wearing your scarf which, despite its' time with Jack in his room, still smelled of you. He shoved it into Castiel's arms, but he only gave him a confused look.

"It's their scarf," he explained.

Castiel spared him from the embarrassment of explaining how he'd gotten it.

He held the crumpled scarf in his hand up to his nose, intaking a deep breath with closed eyes. Jack hadn't ever heard of this kind of tracking, which was odd since he inherently knew most things about angels, but he would never distrust his father. What he did distrust was the churning feeling in his chest, as though a curved knife had impaled itself in him and twisted slowly through his skin.

Doubts pervaded both angels almost immediately as Castiel followed the trail. It led near to the stairs, but took a harsh turn and went into the hallway, leading them further into the bunker.

"Are you sure this is theirs?" Castiel asked as they hurried down the hall.

"Positive," he said, earning a sigh and a nod from Castiel.

They continued, this time less sure of themselves, as the scarf continued to lead them through the bunker, trotting down stairs till they landed in the base floor. Here the walls, ceiling, and floor were made of thick cement, allowing their footsteps to echo around the empty halls.

Jack picked up the pace and Castiel followed, running after the trail that ended right in front of the dungeon door. The torture room door, where monsters were locked up, and sometimes friends as well. A sort of fury was boiling in his blood despite his earlier acceptance of the Winchester's plan. Keeping you here in secret was never something he agreed to.

Without even fully realizing it, Jack was wrenching open the handle, the door whizzing open and slamming against the wall with a resounding crack. There, in the center of a pentagram, you were bound to a chair with thick, iron chains, your molted form flanked by Sam and Dean. The latter carried a knife in his hand, one covered in dripping blood. Sam whirled around at the sound of the door opening, meaning he was the first to see Jack's glowing eyes, and the suddenly panicked expression on Castiel's face.

"What are you doing to them?" Castiel growled with wide eyes, taking long, quick steps over in front of you. Without hesitation he undid the restraints, letting you fall down to the floor.

"Cas, they're a fae," Dean said, his tone stern and curt.

"No, they're not," Castiel replied, his own voice equally as sure. "I can't.. blame you, for not knowing this. You're only human. But it's obvious to me."

Sam opened his crossed arms, waiting for the angel to explain himself. Meanwhile, Jack regained his composure after being shocked by Castiel's actions, and made his way over to you, kneeling at your side. You'd been cut in a few different places––nothing too grievous, at least not by Winchester standards––and drops of your blood painted streaks down your sweaty skin.

"They're an Old God," Castiel finally said, but the words were followed by silence.

"We're just supposed to know what that is?" Dean asked gruffly.

"I thought your brother might," he said in a quiet voice.

Dean unfolded his arms, shifting his weight as he cast a glance to his brother.

"Old Gods are... ancient deities created by wandering bands of hunter-gatherers in your past. They got their power from their worshippers, not from Chuck, which... made them very different, to say the least," Castiel continued, still keeping his voice soft as he raised his hand above several of your wounds, stitching the skin back together with his grace.

"I've heard of hunter and gatherers," Jack said as he recalled some of the books in your library. "They wandered in bands of around 50 to 100 people."

He earned several unimpressed stares.

"Well – if they got their power from worshippers, how's this one still alive?" Sam asked after a moment of silence.

"I don't know," Castiel admitted. "I've never met this one before."

"Okay, just because they're not a fae doesn't mean they aren't the one that killed those kids," Dean said, interrupting their short conversation.

The iron knife still twirled in his hands; the only weapon against fairies. Jack kept a close eye on it as they spoke.

"An Old God would never hurt a human," Castiel said with such an intensity that no one had any choice but to believe him. “And besides,” he turned back to you, “they would’ve lost their powers long ago when humans stopped believing in them.”

Your eyes listed open while you lay in Jack's hold, the swirling image of your friend coming lazily into view.

"... Jack?" You mumbled, struggling to keep your eyelids up.

His gaze shot down to you, eyes widening at the sight of your movement.

"Hey," he said softly, hushing you when you tried to speak. "Are you okay?"

You mustered your strength to nod.

"I'm assuming you're an agricultural God," Castiel said after a moment of watching the two of you interact. "You look to be around 12,000 years old." He looked up to Dean and Sam. "That's how old agriculture is."

"Yeah, I know," Sam scoffed, but Dean remained silent.

"Do I really look that old?" You asked, laughing through your slurred words.

"Your soul does," Castiel answered.

You hummed weakly in response, drifting back into unconsciousness, your body going limp in Jack's arms.

Jack healed what remaining injuries you had, using it partway as an excuse to touch you. His palms set flat on the cuts, and with you far off in your dreams, you didn't feel the burn or the relief of his healing. He thought first to bring to his room to lay you on his bed, but Sam gently suggested that you should be put in one of their many spare bedrooms.

Castiel and the Winchesters attempted to take his mind off of you, but it wasn't long before he was back at your side, waiting for you to wake up again. He scanned your body constantly with his mind, searching for any hidden injuries he might've missed the first time around. The case remained unsolved, the children still missing and the culprit unknown. Your disqualifying left the Winchesters with no more suspects, but Jack couldn’t bring himself to worry about a creature that wouldn’t strike again for another ten years when you wouldn’t wake up to his voice calling your name.

It took hours until you stirred again, eyes fluttering into a half-open state as they fell to Jack. He had his head hung low, his elbows leant on his knees, and his hair drooping in front of his face.

"I was created in Turkey," you rasped out through a dry throat.

At the slightest sound his head shot up, eyes widening with a spark upon seeing your soft smile.

"It's a country, by the way," you mumbled, correctly assuming Jack didn't know the country, and only knew the bird. "At a place they call Gobekli Tepe, now. The people of the land would... would gather there, and share their cultured seeds, and the magic needed to make them grow."

"Magic?"

"Simple water and sunlight," you said with a weak chuckle. "It was magic to them. Everything was."

You fell silent before you said, "I miss them."

"Were they different? From people now?" Jack asked.

"Very," you nodded assuredly. "But there are some people, nowadays, that remind me of them."

He chuckled quietly. Warmth spread from your touch when you reached forward, just barely gracing his hand with yours. He took the initiative, entangling your fingers together, and watching intently as your thumb ran over the back of his hand.

"You are a new God, aren't you?" You asked, narrowing your eyes curiously, with no sense of hostility.

"I'm... I'm a nephilim. Lucifer's son, actually, but I promise I'm not like him," he said, gripping you tighter.

"A nephilim?" You asked with a frown.

"The son of an angel," he clarified.

It was the first time he was able to tell you something you didn't know instead of the other way around.

"I've never heard of angels."

His brows raised in surprise.

"Really?" He asked.

"I haven't really kept up with the world as of recent. When did angels first appear?"

"I... don't know," he said after wracking his brain and finding no answer. "Castiel might know."

"Castiel.. Castiel, that was your father, right?"

"Yeah. The good one," he said, earning a chuckle from you that brought a blush to his face.

"He is another God?"

"Another angel, yes," he nodded. "(Y/N), I... I have so many questions for you."

"About what?" You asked skeptically, giving him a playful glare.

"About humans, mostly," he said. "I mean, I've already been asking you questions, but now I know you have a lot more answers than I thought."

"Yes, well, I do keep my memory stored in a mushroom," you muttered beneath your breath.

Jack frowned. Was that normal?

"Can you tell me about them?" He asked, just barely masking his eagerness.

"My people?"

He nodded, and you smiled softly, your eyes glazing over as you recalled thousands of years past.

[ellitx]

!! Long one inc with modern au college Himmel, will be hurt/comfort (might be cringe i dunno i went ham) TW: mentions of mental illnesses and self harm, mentions of injuries, and smut ye

Was a quiet rainy day as you slept, back pressed into your boyfriend's chest, you had decided to come over to watch movies and spend some time relaxing together after finals but about an hour in you let a lull like state wash over you.

"This is the only time you look so peaceful y/n.." Himmel thought, "if only you'd let your walls down a bit.. just enough to let me in.." he brushed your cheek with the back of his hand with a feather light touch on your cheek "Im so sorry that you have to carry so much weight.. I'd do anything to help wash it away or at least help lift it"

Drinking in your form as you slept softly into him, he wishes to stay like this for hours, but he knows that as soon as consciousness comes over you again, the walls will be re-built, and your shoulders will re-tense with the weight they bear. He leans in to kiss your temple and stroke your hair softly praying not to wake you

Recalling all the stories you told him, the shitty ex that was so selfish of his own desires that it implanted the idea that all intimacy was, was to please the man. Now leaving scars that you cant even take for yourself in those times even though all he wants is to please, and pour the love you desperately need into you, over and over but even a year or so into the relationship, you had only given to him.. bearly even allowing him to sheath himself in you, and thats just the tip of the iceberg " you dont even let anyone help you, but all you do is give, how much longer until you cup is empty.." He thought kissing you softly once more

"Hmm..?" You sir and turn to face him "I-i'm so sorry I didn't mean to fall asleep.." he strokes your hair again to hush you "Its okay, Im glad you were able to get some rest" he whispered kisses on the lips proper pulling you in a bit closer and letting his hands run up and down your sides. "Himmel I hope youre not upset at me.." you gripped onto his shirt a bit and buried your head in his chest "we were supposed to hangout today and I feel awful for falling asleep.." you mumbled

"Stop that now.. you were exhausted.. its really okay" he softly pulls your face up to kiss you again licking your bottom lip praying you let him in, turning you head slightly and parting your lips you let him in "Thank god at least this.." he thought as he let his toungue rub against yours while sliding his hands down your sides and slipping his finger tips under the hem of your tights.

A small flinch came from you as he did this as a bit of panic started to set in.. you were so self conscious of yourself, you didnt feel ever adequate enough even to call your self his lover or even to indulge yourself in things like this. He can feel you starting to tense up.. "Mmm.. y/n just relax love.. please.." he start trailing kisses down your neckline "H-Himmel.. I really don't know I.." tears start to well up in your eyes. He knew what was about to happen you were going to push him away and it made his heart squeeze in agony all he wanted was to give and show you love, but he didn't want to force it too much to scare you but it had been going on so long, so he tried shifting his weight to straddle you but you managed to squeeze out from underneath him.

"I-i'm sorry.. I think I should go.." you choke out, your voice shaky whilst trying to stay composed you head for the door. "Y/n Wait please!" You heaved a heavy sigh as you felt his hand catch your wrist, you try to twist out of it but he pulls you in firm but gentle.. " God y/n.. just let me in..please let me tear down those walls and let me love you.." he swallowed, his throat bobbing and icy blue eyes staring straight into yours "You can't keep pushing me out.., you won't even let me help you with anything and it hurts.. even when your sick and dead tired all you do is push me and anyone out.. saying that its alright but it's really not.." He chocked out between sobs "please y/n.. I love you.. and if you love me like you say you do then please just let me.. anyone, help you.. I cant stand to see you like this.. Ive known you for our whole lives almost and I finally have you.. and seeing you in pain from the hand you've been delt hurts more than you'd ever imagine..!

You stood frozen wet face and shaking, silently letting all the words sink in, you felt awful for doing this to him, you thought, he had been there with you through almost every step of your life, even giving you up to a man who he wasn't good to you because you said at the time because you said it was what would make you happy at the time and even now.. he'd be willing to throw everything at the wall to sew you back together, to see the smile, the true smile that he hasent seen in years.

And again all you could do is "I'm sorry Himmel you deserve someone better.. you've done so much for someone whos worth nothing.." so you get up and pull away from him once again and run out of the door into the rain but not soon after did you feel your soaked self being almost held with unwavering force "NO..! Not again.. not ever.. and plus I am not letting you leave this house in this weather I couldn't bear to see you sick from something I could prevent..!" He yells as he slung you over his shoulder carrying you back inside and into the bathroom

"Strip.. youre soaking wet.. and shaking.." he said calm but sternly ,you flushed at his command, hes usually not like this.. you thought through your tears and nervously removed your clothing as did he. You curled up to cover your naked form as he bent down placing a towel over your shoulders and held you, slowly rubbing to dry and warm you, and as soon as you were dry and coming down from your clouded tears, he helps you up off the floor draping the towel over the both of you leading to the mirror.

"Y/n.. I know when you look into this mirror you dont like what you see.. and think you dont deserve the I want to give you.. but please.." He pauses to hold your hands at your sides , to let all your beauty and all your scars, visible and unseen reflect back at you "see yourself through my eyes for just a bit my songbird.. you're not what you see.." you again begin to let tears fall and with a quiet sob "I-Im so sorry.. I do love you.. im just scared.."

"Then let me fix whats right here.." he snakes his arm around to gently rest a hand on your heart "and right here.." and his other over your womb space then lays his head on your shoulder with a kiss to the crook of your neck "Let me pull the sorrow from between your legs like silk.. knot after knot after knot.." he whispered almost pleadingly

"O-okay.." you lean into him a bit wiping your tears with the back of your hand kissing his temple. With that he gently picks you up with your legs wrapping around his waist he grips you firm and gentle untill he enters his bedroom, locking the door behind him, then setting you down on the bed not once letting go.

"Himmel.. are you sure you still..? "Shh.. please.." he kisses to hush you, then slowly trails soft sensual kisses down your body worshipping each and every inch, pouring all the love you gave him back into you trying to ignore his own arousal. Trying your best to keep still your face burned as he did this, not wanting to move and let any moans escape, you put your hand over your mouth to stifle them "no one will hear you its okay.." He said as he continues downward towards your heat "Nng.. my love I-" he felt you begin to tense up again he rubs his hands down your thighs and kisses them softly sucking and licking them "Just relax y/n.."

You breathed a shaky sigh as he spread your legs and began to slow rub at your core admiring your slick that adorned his finger tips. "Ahh..~ its a shame you've been keeping yourself from me.. your essence is divine" his hot breath so close to you it sent electricity you've never even felt before, were you even worthy of such extacy? you though stifling another moan, internally fighting the want to pull away again, if its what he wants then you shall deliver.

"Oh how Ive longed for this.. to please you, to drink in every once of you.. and to replace the pain with pleasure.." He began to lick a stripe up your slit and gently pressed his two fingers on your clit, swirling them in unison to bring you to a higher bliss "H-Himmel.. Ahh.. its so good.. Nng..!"

The heat building in you, you couldn't help but grind against him "Dont be ashamed love..~ do what mm..~ feels best for you.. dont hide your moans.. I wanna hear my pretty little song bird sing~! He saids darting this tongue deeper into you whilst grinding against the bed, he couldn't help it, its all ever dreamed of ashamedly, consuming you whole so his arousal was unmatched

Panting with heavy and louder moans you wrapped your legs around his head, letting gain more access, with him gripping onto your thighs and moaning into you, the vibrations coming from him wond you so tightly threatening to spill all over him.. so you grip his head and try to push him away "Ahh..! Im.. so close.. Himme-- Ahh!" He only grips you tighter and grinds himself harder against the sheets chasing his own release "Dont..! Aaah!! Im right there..dont push me off of you..! I love you so.. dont deny me..! Nnnng..!" And with him losing himself in you, lapping at you so desperately you come down onto him, covering him in you, with him coming in tandem..

Panting he wipes his face with the sheets "Thank you for finally letting me love you right.."

(im so sorry if this is omega long and kinda intense?? Kinda just rolling with it i have full himmel disease -💚)

ahhhh another himmel food <333 you’re feeding me so much with these sweet sweet himmel contents and i really really love it 🥺💕💕

I shall also feed you with a himmel content of my own as a thank you 😋 still working on it hehe

[readbythestarlight]

BoBF chapter 7: In The Name of Honor

Oh god here we go

A whole hour huh

I totally forgot the cantina blew up

Hiiiii Boba and Fennec nice to see you again!!

Din standing up for Mos Pelgo ;~;

B: “you are confident he will come”

D: “I am”

Me: *cries because the TRUST*

Also tho god please let Cobb be okay enough show up Din believes in him

Y’all best not get most of Mos Pelgo killed tho

A showdown in a blown up cantina feels a little Mando s1 finale doesn’t it

Also I still don’t like the street kids not sorry

You can’t protect anybody from a blown out husk make it make sense

Fuck off Bane

I’m so worried about Cobb

Oh wow, they killed them. I’m shocked. (Not lol)

Wait

An X-Wing

IS IT LUKE DID GROGU CHOOSE IS HE BRINGING OUR BOY HOME???

BABY

HE CHOSE DIN

I’m gonna cry

God if anything happens to Grogu if he gets out in even the SLIGHTEST danger I will kill

IM GONNA CRY

HE CHOSE DIIIIIIIN

Omg of the little mail shirt saves him at any point I’ll weep and sob

Ah, exposition

They keep saying “when Cobb/the people of Freetown show up” which makes me think they’re not going to. Or like the show wants me to think they’re not going to.

Oh fuck okay

Just shoot him Boba

I hope Din doesn’t find out Bane shot Cobb here it’ll hurt me

You tell him Boba

FUCK

FUCK FUCK FUCK

“You should have never left him without his armor” FUCK

Oh

Bane, what’s your play here??

Telling him that??

Boba honey be smart

No baby don’t we al know Filoni won’t let you kill his OC

Boba listen to Fennec

“He killed Vanth” NO HE DIDNT

RIP the biker kids and the Wookie I guess

Wow he got betrayed I’m shocked again (nottttt)

Oh and the Gamoreans too

RIP everyone but Boba and Fennec and Din I guess

Why does all the tension seemed so forced and why am I supposed to care about these street call kids we’ve spent no time with

YEAHHHH FENNEC

But yeah anyway this has such weird s1 finale of Mando vibes

Oh shit this exchange

“I suppose you’ll be heading out.”

“I’m not.”

“You should.”

“It’s against the Creed. I have you my word. I’m with you until we both fall.”

“You really buy into that bantha fodder?”

“I do.”

“Good.”

Din

“We’ll both die in the name of honor.”

Din. Din your son is here Din you can’t.

Din you can’t sign up for a suicide mission

Twi’lek man is going to die

Oh no Boba what did you write

Boba you’re gonna get him shot

Damn Boba that’s poetic

YEAHHHHHH FUCK EM UP BOYS

JET PACKS HELL YEAH

oh this is everything I love this

BOBA

knee missile lol

Okay Din and Boba fighting side by side is so badass. Boba covering Din while he’s down.

WHISTLING BIRDS

Finally some delicious fucking food

Okay so this is where Freetown comes in to save the day right

YEAHHHHH

WEEQUAY

…okay Cobb tho?

Where?

“I’m sorry about the Marshal.”

“Gunned him down in cold blood.”

STOP TRYING TO MAKE ME THINK HE’S DEAD

These low speed speeders are so dumb still I hate them

JO

Yay Wookie

So actually that was a fake out and no one is dead huh

Except he might actually die

RIP Wookie friend

Oh wait no Boba’s gonna save him

And Din

What a team

Oh dear

I’ll take more Boba and Din fighting together but otherwise I feel like no stakes in this fight

DARKSABER YEAH

Oh my god

Boba gonna go get the Tuskens!!

DIN BE CAREFUL YOUR SON IS HERE

PELI NOW IS NOT THE TIME

At least I don’t see Grogu thank god

GEOGU HUG GROGU HUG GROGU HUG

y’all I’m crying

“Hey that’s the shirt. You got the shirt.” Y’all I’m literally weeping.

Din football catching Grogu is adorable

What…

OH HE WENT FOR THE RANCOR

Wait

The baby rancor is suddenly combat ready??

If the rancor dies I will actually care way more than I would if any of the street punks die

YEAHHHH DAEKSABER

Fuck it up Grogu save ur dad

HES SAVING DIN AGAIN

YEAHHHHH BABY

Boba on the rancor is ridiculous and badass all at once lol

I’d say Jo/Punk Girl Whose Name I Don’t Know but I already have Jo with an OC so

lol Peli joining the fight

“Peli’s for you covered” I adore her

SOMEONE KILL THIS BLUE FUCK FOR ME I BEG

Where is Fennec

Kill him Boba do it

I hate this blue fuck seriously

Honestly though I’d like to see more of him as an antagonist to Boba

Fuck you Bane

YEAHHHH FUCK HIM UP WKTH YOUR GAFFI STICK THAT REPRESENTS THE FAMILY YOU FOUND THAT HELPED YOU BECOME SOMEONE OTHER THAN WHO YOU USED TO BE

Holy shit they let him kill him

VINDICAAAAATIIIOOOOOON

Uh stop shooting Boba’s rancor what

Tho is this King Kong scene necessary

He gave Grogu the ball I’m weeping

DIN

Definitely gonna need some recovery time and TLC

Grogu will tame the savage beast

Nappy time awwww

Oh please fuck then up Boba

I still wanna know where Fennec is

OH
there she is

Fennec shouldn’t you have let Boba do that?? Why did she get to kill the head Pyke??

If he leaves Tatooine to the punk kids

Grogu in his little bubble 😭

“lmaoooo Grogu wants the zoomies!!”

OH MY GOD

COBB IS IN THE BACTA THANK RIGHT

HE IS

METAL

ARM

COBB??

He had better have consented to that because modifying him without his consent when they could have just healed him first (he was shot in the right shoulder no way was he going to die once they got him in bacta) and then checked.

Also in general I don’t like the mods.

But y’all i’m SCREAMING

Din and Grogu!

And this probably means more Cobb in future?? I’m so torn about how I feel about him being modified tho I hope he looks better than the current “mods” do. Something natural and understated like Fennec.

Also tho Boba should have gotten to kill the head Pyke and avenge his tribe.

And I have no idea where they’ll take Boba and Fennec from here.

[trashpocket]

Okay so I got this headcanon that Lalli is actually a really good singer when he wants to be. (like, he's a mage so he must be good as singing runos...) Anyways how about : Emil hears Lalli sing and falls in love with it... OR maybe Lalli singing lullabies to Emil in Finnish? Idk, feel free to play around with that if you want ^^

Sleep, sleep meadow bird,

Tired, tired, wagtail.

Sleep well in the grass,

Drift into the white land.

- Sleep, sleep Meadow Bird

Emil’s mind was a mess of hallways, and rooms, where many served no purpose, and led to dead ends. There were many corners and spaces where one could hide, and many nooks and crannies where things lay, untouched and out of place. As if it was left there, after being forgotten, afraid to be picked up once more in order to return it (as if there was no other place where it could return to). 

Lalli knew how dreamscapes functioned. They were basically an extension of one’s mind and soul, materialized into an ideal place that fit the person the most. That told the most. If you were like Onni, whose space was dominated by a lake in the center, that stayed in perpetual twilight, with a guard of trees, so thick and wide, the rocky terrains were nothing but just the beginning. Then, one would know you hid a sadness at the core of you, guarded well by walls of fear and concern, shutting anyone out from accessing the sadness that ran deep in your bones.

 And if you were like Emil, who resided in an endless maze, with every window and door shut, every drawer and cupboard filled, and everything sealed so tight, that it offered no leverage (but kept one away from the fire, away from the burning), then one would know that you were good at hiding things. 

At burying them deep.

That’s why, when Lalli witnessed Emil silently cry through a nightmare, without making a sound (as if the action was so practiced, and pressed deep into his bones, that it hurt for Lalli to even think about it), he was surprised that Emil had been hiding his tears and cries so well. Just when Lalli thought he knew Emil, who seemed like an open book, and wore his very heart on his sleeve, there Emil was, shattering his beliefs by taking him into a dreamscape that wasn’t meant to be possible. There he was, acting so unlike himself in his arms. There was he, destroying the belief that Lalli ever knew him at all. 

In fact, Lalli barely knew anything, if he thought about it. 

When he found Emil crying, he was woken to the scent of salt.

He hated the smell of it.

It reminded him of wet sand (sinking him to his knees), of grief and mourning (when he screamed till there was nothing to scream about but the deafness in his ears) and Tuuri (who had been swallowed by the waves and whose body he had lost to the sea).

Lalli had long know that the world was cruel and merciless; was harsh, and unkind. He knew it firsthand in Saimaa, witnessed it once more in Denmark.

And here? — it just hurt to watch someone he had thought were ignorant and blind, and protected from grief, be silently inflicted with it all along. Lalli was supposed to notice things. Was supposed to be perceptive.

And yes, he was.

It's just — Emil was just better at hiding some parts of him that he didn't want Lalli to see.

And though Lalli wasn't happy with the fact that there were still many things he didn't know about Emil, he pushed those worries aside. In due time, they would, but right now, he had someone who needed him.

He reached over and tentatively smoothed out Emil's hair from his wet cheeks. He continued doing so, until Emil himself woke up, eyes hazy and clouded with confusion.

"Lalli?" his voice was gravelly with the sound of sleep and breathlessness; there was a tremble in there that he also caught. Lalli didn't know what to say. Everything will be fine? He was here? Don't worry? No words seemed appropriate for Lalli to say, when they were out in the wilderness, searching for his stupid cousin, as trolls and beasts wandered about, ready to murder them if they so much as squaked at the wrong moment.

Lalli didn't know what he was trying to do, but he sat up, and his body language must've signalled comfort, because Emil allowed himself to hug Lalli around his midriff, burying his face into his belly. Lalli found it almost surreal that he was the one cradling Emil this time. It had always been Lalli who was held first.

But Emil was releasing shuddering breaths against him, trusting Lalli to muffle and take away that noise, the pain. Lalli's heart twinged strangely at that, and he carefully cradled Emil to him, content with the trust Emil thrusted upon him.

It was only natural for Lalli to sing a spell under his breath. Enough only for Emil to hear.

"Nuku, nuku nurmilintu,

Väsy, väsy, västäräkki.

Nuku nurmelle hyvälle,

Vaivu maalle valkialle."

He brushed the golden strands of Emil's hair, content to hold him there.

"Lintu tuopi liinahapaijan,

Haapana hyvän hamehen.

Kaskeloinen korvatyynyn,

Pääskynen peäalusen."

Emil had softened his grip around Lalli's waist, as he burrowed his face into Lalli's stomach. Lalli allowed him, more happy with Emil staying than pulling away. It was his fault, after all. Tearing a hole into the mind of a godless heathen? Leaving their dreamscape open and vulnerable? No wonder Emil's nightmares were terrible.

"Nuku, nuku nurmilintu,

Väsy, väsy, västäräkki.

Nuku nurmelle hyvälle,

Vaivu maalle valkialle."

But, maybe this was what Onni felt like, when he held Tuuri and him after the fall of Saimaa. Maybe this was what Onni felt, when he would sing the same spell to Lalli, on the nights where memories and terror combined so well, to reign in his nights the hardest. Maybe this was what Onni felt like, when the pressure became too much at sixteen, when he found himself alone in the world, with two of his family left, with no one to properly care for him in return.

Maybe this was what Onni felt like, when he had someone to protect.

And now, Lalli understood why Onni would run into danger, when one of the people he loved the most was taken from him.

(Still didn't excuse him, though.)

Emil looked up at Lalli, the vestiges of sleep almost engulfing his eyes. But not before Emil smiled softly, reaching up to brush Lalli's hair from his forehead, trying to comfort Lalli's worried brow.

Lalli snorted at his hand, rolling his eyes. He was comforting you, stupid, not the other way around!

But Emil didn't care, settling his cheek on Lalli's chest like an anchor, and breathing out his last words of the night before his nightmares were chased away.

"Thank you, Lalli."

That's why Lalli won't give up. If he won't give up on Emil, then he won't give up on stupid Onni, either. He had people to protect; to bring home, to talk to, and to live with.

He won't give up, not like this, when he could chase their nightmares away.

Besides, there was comfort in knowing that there was someone out there that Lalli could at least protect, and he was there, pressed close to his heart, offering a comfort Lalli hadn't thought he could ever afford.

_____________

(So, I was planning for this to be fluff, until my hands took control and now this happened but, nvm that. I wanted this small piece to emulate a dream, and im sad i didnt have enough time to fully render it :'D but i hope you enjoyed it anyway. I also didnt know if u wanted a small fic, or just a piece, so i thought, why not both?

I wanted to explore Emil's dreamscape a bit, and just think about the repurcussions of a heathen having a dreamscape that held no protection or any control for his dream environment. Would nightmares become more vivid? Would memories come out easier than before? Would Emil be even able to protect himself against any foreign entity who wished to enter his mind? Anyways, the lullaby is Nuku, nuku, Nurmilintu. Hope yall liked it!❤)

[uhhhhhhhhhsblogyea]

♤| dragon ball shapeshifter au

storyline rundown

part two

tw: profanity !! a bit of gore and such

the story begins on kakarot's farm! he lives with his parents, bardock and gine, and his brother raditz.

kakarot takes his produce to the market to sell, talking to krillin who is a police officer watching over in case of robbery or stolen goods, with his wife 18 and his daughter marron.

he hangs out there and sells all his produce, making a whopping amount of money to give back to his mother to go towards their farm. so thats what he does.

later that night, raditz barged in through the door, huffing loudly and covered in purple blood. it had a reddish tint. gine and bardock jump to their feet, bardock still in his training gi and gine in her white shirt and some sweatpants. "raditz!? what happened?" bardock exclaimed, gine following up with "why are you covered in... purple blood!?" this caused kakarot to come out of his room in a rush, "h-h-holy s-shit! i didnt kill anyone i swear mom, mom, dad please, i wouldn't do that!" raditz panicked. "s-something tried to attack me! i didnt know what to do so i attacked back!!" he tries to wipe the blood off, it being on his face.

whatever happened, scared raditz enough to make him shake in fear and what seems to be regret despite it being to protect himself.

kakarot however, still was unsure what happened. his father said he would explain in the morning, the situation was too dire for kakarot to get involved - especially with the police.

in town, vegeta covered his bloodied chest, panting as he hid deep in an alleyway. "goddammit," he huffs, slicking his hair back to keep the human bangs out of his face. hes got a huge gash across his chest, thanks to that damned raditz he happened to work with. luckily, he was morphed into some other alien lifeform and not his original shift state. he slowly morphed into a bird, a finch, and flew off to him apartment. he always kept his window cracked just in case this were to happen. just his luck, we wont be able to eat and to heal he needs that energy for food or else hell be out asleep for awhile.

he decides calling off work, so thats what he does. what he doesnt expect is a man with a thick ass fucking tail and slicked back purple hair and red eyes to be reading a book, lounging like a king on his bed. "f... frieza!?" vegeta says, startled.

"ah hello my creation! lovely seeing you here, dont you think?" he throws the book off to the side, getting up and striding over to the bloodied vegeta. "aw looks like you got a paper cut." he jabs a finger into vegetas cut across his chest. vegeta groans in pain, a tentacle whipping around to hit frieza away into a safer distance, but the icejin blocks smoothly with his muscled tail.

from here:

wow!! you found out vegeta is a "creation" of friezas, but what exactly does that mean?

raditz gets taken in for questioning. he gets blamed for a murder that happened on the otherside of town, the law system being dumb sentenced him to 25 years in prision for a murder he didnt do

kakarot is confused, bardock telling him there arent any alien threats and it was a misunderstanding on the jury and judge's parts bc raditz was getting mugged and a murder far away happened at roughly the same time, and they were desperate to throw someone into jail.

this is a lie, to some extent. kakarot believes it, living happily thinking there are no threats

vegeta attacked raditz, needing food. shapeshifters need to eat hearts and lungs of animals as food

raditz is the one who cut him across the chest (thatd why he has a scar on his chest in the ref sheet)

kakarot has to bring crops and milk into a market farther into town sometime in the next week, it being an event ran by capsule corp, a company that produces a lot of housing and vehicles and being in business for 40 years being the anniversary that day.

vegeta is a mechanical manager, wearing fancy clothing that day since its technically a high spot in the ranks for capsule corp.

vegeta likes milk, surprisingly. it helps a lot when recovering damage, especially his species. this is when he meets kakarot

kakarot is running his stand with the crates of crops and glass jars of milk set out on display with their price, krillin with him

vegeta is annoyed he has to speak up to get the seller's attention so he grunts with an "ahem"

kakarot jumps, apologizing and asking what he wants to buy. vegeta gets his milk and some vegetables for someone he knows

"hey, whats with the fancy suit?"

"you dont know who i am?"

"no. should i?"

"i-? im vegeta! im manager of the mechanics in capsule corp!"

"oh. is the job hard?"

they conversate, as kakarot sells his produce happily listening as he was able to get the short man with a temper to talk about his job.

vegeta himself was caught off guard by this action but happily talks

this ends in kakarot running behing the stand's curtain and grabbing his business card so vegeta can have a discount on milk next time he decides to buy

vegeta takes the card walking off

the card has kakarots name and number on the back, a message saying "text me personally if you want extra, i dont mind taking some. you seem cool!"

vegeta is a bit ticked, but pockets the card

over time, vegeta and kakarot talk over text a bit, kakarot delivering him milk like an old time milk delivery boy

turns out he actually used to be one as a kid

turns out hes been into marial arts as well, a long time interest of vegetas

they bond over this, kakarot find himself growing a crush on vegeta

one time kakarot stops buy with a delivery unannounced, not knowing he typed the text but didnt send it. he knocks on vegetas apartment door, but no answer.

he checks to see if its unlocked, and it is so he lets himself in, just wanting to put the delivery on the counter and head out.

he doesnt expect to turn around and see a vegeta with a towel wrapped around his waist, tentacles coming out of his back, green eyes, and sharp ears, teeth, and claws. "K-KAKAROT!? WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?" he yells, surprised. he doesn't have bangs either

"why do you have tentacles?? why do you look different? why do you have that scar?"

vegeta is caught off guard, not sure if he should push kakarot out or tell him the truth. one way or another he knows the truth will spread, so he carefully debates his options

he tells kakarot the truth, hes a shapeshifter and hes insanely dangerous

kakarot is surprised dangerous aliens exist

he tells vegeta this, and deep down vegeta is mad kakarot is sheltered

little do they know as they conversate and bond, growing closer to each other kakarot finds out vegeta made a vow not to ever get in a relationship no matter how much he envied them, especially a human relationship, a certain someone is watching them and listening in, theyre keeping tabs on vegetas and kakarots feelings

trust issues amirite?

later that night, kakarot says his goodbye heading home, heart pounding. wow!!!! vegeta is... great. very great. kinda cute too, i mean what!?? no!!

kakarot rants to himself aloud in his room, window open to keep himself cool, about vegeta as he debates his feelings. he doesnt care if this seems out of character in his friends terms, all they see from him anyway is a dense fightcrazed guy with a dysfunctional relationship with an ex and his son. he realized vegeta doesnt see him like that, but, what DOES vegeta see him as?

he calls it a night

he wakes up to a "thwap, thwap, thwap" against his wooden floor

he sits up, looking around and seeing a short figure sitting at his desk.

"whos there?"

"ah, youre awake monkey! i have valuable information for you, about your lovely vegeta." the voice is squeaky

"and, who is telling me this?" kakarots interest is piqued, not seeing the mysterious figure as a threat, as of now at least

"oh-hohoho! im dr. cold! but please, call me frieza. doctor cold is my father's name."

"and what do you have to tell me about vegeta?"

"mmm, are you sure you want to know?" he gets up, beginning to pace

"theres a catch isnt there" kakarot realizes, serious

"oh! maybe you arent so dense afterall. yes, there iss monkey. its simple, deliever some of your left over crop to my facility tomorrow, i already left the address on a paper over on that... pitiful little desk of yours." frieza pauses. "vegeta will kill you if you arent careful. hes hungry, and he wants that heart. but... i think the poor creation wants it in more than one way. kill him before he kills you."

frieza hands kakarot a box cutter

"thats the only thing that will kill him. if you dont do it i expect that delivery tomorrow by midnight. if you dont show, and theres no news of him being dead, youll be a brilliant collection to my creations, monkey!" the man laughs in joy, clasping his hands together as his red eyes pierce through kakarot

kakarot reluctantly agrees, unsure how this will play out

PART TWO WILL BE MADE SOON!!!

anyway heres the part 1 of the rundown.

[taketheringtolohac]

for the character meme: hewitt and/or twooney

ty for the ask!

hewitt best

favorite thing about them i think it's how caring he is where when he tries and talks to someone they never really feel misunderstood, he has a sense of fairness that he really strives to hold himself to

least favorite thing about them hes in the vault ://///// idk if that counts so i will say the way that he doesnt really get how to assert his boundaries when he's not the face of something or talking for other people. please take care of urself king.

favorite line [blaseball radio 2 voice] hewitt best hits a grand slam!

brOTP while i WOULD talk abt his relationship with pdz, also marco stink and hewitt roommates is genuinely one of the best things we've ever done. imagine you're a pretty normal and decent guy and then your roommate is an incredibly endearing but hyper active and not very smart bug. hes a good guy he will also just embarrass you accidentally at any given moment.

OTP i think he and yeong-ho garcia should date. bring back crowmmunism that shit was so cute

nOTP women. idk really maybe leach but i feel like thats a cop out.

random headcanon no one is allowed to yell at me or be weird about this but he uses grindr so often like marco is the person who made his text tone the grindr sound bc he associates it with him. he deliberately tries to sleep with blaseballs most famous men. its just so so funny bc everyone teases him for it too just lmfao

unpopular opinion reluctant friends with tillman forged in the hall. they went to the vault together after all.

song i associate with them material girl by madonna <3

favorite picture of them so uh. this one hasnt been posted anywhere. but its my pfp on ao3 of hewitt in the pissfaggot jacket from disco elysium.

twooney

favorite thing about them she's literally not even a scientist on the breath star she has a PhD in art history and you know what that's really sexy of her to not know anything about science and live in space

least favorite thing about them stop voicemailing to the rotation you are not a good pitcher twooney and are SO much better at stealing

favorite line when we got yo hitter and twooney moved to the lineup like <33 shes so good at stealing

brOTP actually you know what. also marco. i think she would just really enjoy talking at him and he'd respond like he does and she just. engages him fully in the conversation even if all he's saying is What! on that day she just talks to him

OTP truthfully i've never thought about this but wouldnt it be funny if atlas guerra and twooney- jk jk... unless 👀

nOTP idk the moon. she kinda lives there and thats her clones wife. kinda weird.

random headcanon she named the birds after dead breath mints to keep her company in space like... thats not even my hc but i just think its so sweet. shes a big bird person, and even though she didnt KNOW any of those breath mints it makes her feel closer to the team in those early seasons. also shes still a mad scientist she just has absolutely NO reason to be and has no justification for it.

unpopular opinion i think twooney shouldnt be white actually

song i associate with them just a girl by no doubt #girlboss!

favorite picture of them toasts once drew this picture of short haired twooney and i think about it Often

send me a character and i'll answer these things about them!

[bridgyrose]

Weiss: *sighing and leaning back in her chair* I blame you for this, Blake.

Blake: *nodding and laying her head down on a table* I can accept that.

Summer: *looking through Ruby’s scroll, trying to find anything else on it* At least it gives us time to figure out a plan.

Weiss: What plan? We still know just as much as we did before. Absolutely nothing.

Yang: That’s… not entirely true.

Weiss: What do you mean?

Yang: We still have Ozpin as a lead. All we have to do is ask him-

Weiss: And why do you think he’d tell us? We’re in training.

Summer: *sighing* I… think I know something that will make him trust us. Or atleast be willing to give us the information we need.

Weiss: Didnt you say he was a dead end before?

Summer: *stopping at a locked file on the scroll* How did I miss this?

Blake: *perking up a bit* Miss what?

Summer: *looking through the file* I… I think I found her diary.

Yang: *getting up to look over Summer’s shoulder* Think it has some answers?

Summer: I dont know… but it stops a few years after you would’ve been born.

Blake: What was the last entry?

Summer: *scrolling back up to the top of the entry* “Today I’m visiting my ‘father’s’ old house. It’s the last stop to make before I continue with the rest of my mission. Ozpin seems to think I can stop Salem but… I’m not entirely so sure. I’ve spent months trying to track her down and I think I figured out where she’s at. But I have to do this alone. Raven… left me when I told her. I’m not entirely sure what I was expecting, but her turning into a bird and flying off wasnt it. Still… this hasnt been easy. Going alone is harder than I thought. My thoughts keep turning to that child I saved… Cinder. Maybe I should’ve taken Willow’s offer to settle down. But, as long as everything worse, Ozpin should be back to his normal self and the gods… the gods should be able to return everything mostly back to normal. But, if I fail….” and that’s where it stops.

Yang: We have to bring this to Ozpin. If we tell him about Salem, then he’d have to answer us, right?

Weiss: We can wait until after the Vytal Festival.

Summer: *getting up and starting to leave the room* Actually, I’m going to go for a walk.

Weiss You cant just leave! We’re in detention!

Summer: If I get in trouble, I’ll deal with it.

Weiss: *sighing as she watched the door close* She’s going to be okay, right?

Yang: I’m not sure, but, I feel like she knows a bit more than she’s letting on.

Blake: How so?

Yang: You remember what she did with her eyes, right?

Blake: Yeah, I do.

Yang: I think that has something to do with Ruby. Or atleast Ozpin.

[hermits-that-craft]

hey so i realised i didnt post the au behind a rumour in lmanburg so here we go! Character Bio’s and basic au below the cut! The character bios will be for the rebellion, with Schlatt, George, Quackity, Sapnap, Bad and Skeppy being in a different post :D!!!!

Basics: After the election, Schlatt banned Wilbur and his allies from Manburg, but told his soldiers to ‘spare the children’. Eret and Nikki hid Tubbo and Fundy from the soldiers, who looked trigger happy, but Wilbur grabbed Tommy and ran. Schlatt found out that Tommy was taken, and decided to charge Wilbur with kidnapping as well. In the mean while, he went and executed Wilbur’s cabinet, searching for Fundy, Tommy and Tubbo so that he could ‘unteach’ them what Wilbur had taught them. The government soon gave up on trying to find them, and declared that they had been killed by loyalist traitors. Respawn is on in this world, but Schlatt can turn it on and off in Manburg. Manburg and DreamSMP are both large cities with a large population (to warrant no one recognising each other)

Tubbo: Tubbo was 10 when the election was held and, along with Tommy, he was the face of the revolution, though he never saw a battle. During the ensuing chaos of the election, he was taken by Eret and Nikki as the fled into the slums of L’Manburg. A few weeks after the election, the safe house he was hiding in was raided while Nikki and Eret were out, and he was hit over the head with the but of a gun. He woke up in an alleyway, alone and with Fundy. Fundy told him his name, and where he was, but didn’t tell him his past so that he could live his life without fear/being at risk of being arrested for being Wilbur’s adopted son. He learnt how to pick pockets, barter and steal to survive, and is a conman at age sixteen to make ends meet while Fundy works to get them both out of the city.

Fundy: Fundy is Wilbur’s son in this au, and he was 14 when the election was held. Six years later, he holds two jobs to keep Tubbo in school and fed. He spends most of his free time forging papers for other people and searching for Eret and Nikki. He keeps a small locket with a picture of himself, Wilbur, Tommy and Tubbo in it, and he never lets it out of his sight. He doesn’t give his name to anyone, and he spends most of his time hoping that any of his family survived, though he believes its only himself and Tubbo left. He is a fox hybrid in this au, so he has a mostly human appearance, though he has fox ears and a tale that he has to hide so no one recognises him.

Tommy: Tommy was 10 when the election was held and, along with Tubbo, he was the face of the revolution. After the election, while Wilbur and Tommy were trying to flee from Manburg, the two men were separated from each other. Tommy fell into a pit, hitting his head against the rock. When he woke up, he had no memories of his life before hand. He didn’t have a name, or a point of reference for where he should go. He foraged for food and learnt how to fight mobs alone for two years when one day he was seriously injured by an enderman, and Jack found him. He was taken back to Manburg and healed up, and he was named ‘Tom’ by Alyssa. From there, he worked odd jobs in the city as there was very few fulltime jobs left open for him. 

Wilbur: President Wilbur Soot was executed on Thursday the eighth of October, one year after the election. He was tried in front of a closed court and found guilty of treason, kidnapping and manslaughter. The court saw that his kidnapping and subsequent losing of TommyInnit as the reason that the boy was missing, presumed dead. It was expected that he would have a public execution, but he was executed privately to an audience of President J.Schlatt and Vice President Quackity. George was the one who beheaded him. His sons were not in attendance. His execution was ‘swift and painless’, as told by President J.Schlatt in the following day, showing his mercy for the traitor.  Reportedly dead. Reportedly painless. There is no body in his grave.

Eret: King Eret died a week after Wilbur was executed, faking a heart attack and slinking into the background, telling Dream to take care of his country as he promised to help the new rebellion to bring down Schlatt. He spent the next five years adapting to life as a commoner, aiding in Nikki’s bakery and doing odd jobs to help the neighbourhood he lives in. His neighbours say that he is kind, and he often tells stories and fables to the neighbourhood children. There is a rumour that he and Nikki had two children, once, and that they were lost during a riot, killed or kidnapped by traitors or rebels. Eret doesn’t deny if when he is asked, just getting a sad look on his face, though he denies any questions about if he and Nikki are together.

Nikki: Nikki is an integral part of the rebellion, an ear in the bakery that no one ever truely imagines is listening. She’s liked by many, known by nearly all in the city, and is a kind face among the crowd. A good and loyal citizen, who hangs the new flag of Manburg by her door. Not many know of her old loyalties, how she designed the L’Manburg flag, and was in every political meeting, ensuring freedom without fighting and peace without bloodshed. Only Schlatt, Quackity and George know about who she was, and they visit her occasionally, at least once every two months, to make sure that she isn’t harbouring any outlaws. None of them trust her, hiking the taxes for her and making it nearly impossible for her to leave the city. A bird in a cage, thats how her neighbours would describe her on the off occasion that they see her, moving about the city with a longing gaze towards the sky.