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holyhellpod · 4 years ago

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4. Fambily

In this episode, we skim the surface of the fambily dynamics in Supernatural, which are--ah. Dicey at best.

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Transcript under the cut!

Content warnings: domestic violence and family abuse

[Growl]

Ah, the Winchesters. Where do we even start. Unhinged, deranged, and continually traumatised in every way, Sam and Dean complete each other. At least, that’s what the show wants us to think. Despite the ways they betray each other, lie to each other, and piss each other off, they are fambily. And fambily is the most important thing. The concept of Fambily in the show Supernatural (2005-2020) takes many twists and turns throughout its run. In the first five minutes of episode one, the heteronormative, nuclear family of John, Mary, Sam and Dean is ripped apart by an unknown, antagonistic force that represents all the evil in the world. It creeps into a nursery and eviscerates a white, blonde mother while preying upon a 👶, I mean, how much more evil can you get? It’s fantastic that, in the later seasons especially, Supernatural embraces this idea that fambily doesn’t end in blood, but blood doesn’t always mean fambily. By the end of the series, the fambily concept has expanded to include two dads, an aunt and uncle, and a thirty-year old infant. I’m going to talk about the finale in its own episode, so that my ire will have its proper outlet.

When the show starts, Sam, Dean and John have each other, and only each other. By the time season 2 really kicks off, Sam and Dean don’t have John anymore, but they do have Bobby Singer. The concept of the triumvirate follows them throughout the series as though they’re in a less sexy Italo Calvino novel—first Sam, Dean and John, then Sam, Dean and Bobby, then Sam, Dean and Ruby, then Sam, Dean and Cas, then Sam, Dean and Mary, then Sam, Dean and Jack. It’s broken in seasons 13-15 when Cas comes back and they have a family of four, and then five when Mary can stand to see her boys.

But the Winchesters are not the only fambily in Supernatural who matter. In season two, we’re introduced to the Harvelles, mother Ellen and daughter Jo, who are a hunting fambily who run a hunter pub in the middle of whoop whoop. A pub that Eric Kripke famously hated, and rejoiced when he burnt it down at the end of season 2, because the Winchesters and by extension everyone they know aren’t allowed to have anything good ever. It’s revealed in season two episode “No Exit” that John got Jo’s father killed on a hunt, which obviously affects Jo more than it does Sam and Dean.

[Editing note:] Okay I’m editing this episode, and I’m not happy with it. I’m not going to scrap it completely because I think I do have good points to say, but the general analysis of this episode is so surface level. It is basically contributing nothing to the conversation. And I started this podcast in order to actually contribute something to the culture. I could make a bunch of text posts on tumblr or I could spend hours and hours and hours and hours of my life to something that — I don’t know. Is it bringing me joy? Not at the moment. But, yeah. So I’m not going to scrap this episode completely but this is my way of saying from now on the episodes are going to take as much as they will take and I will commit myself to having deeper and more thoughtful analysis. And if I have to spend an entire episode on one aspect of one thing, I will. I could be at university right now studying a masters or a PhD in fucking literary analysis but instead I’m sitting on my bed making a Supernatural podcast because it brings me joy. It does. It really makes me happy and I don’t want to abandon this project, because people are listening to it. I don’t know why, I don’t know what you like it about it, but you’re listening. And I just think I owe it to myself to make things that I support 100%. So I’ll continue this episode and hopefully this rambling hasn’t put you off it completely. But from now on, I’m going to really, really talk about things that matter in regards to Supernatural… Kind of an oxymoron. Kind of a contradiction. But things that contribute to the cultural consciousness instead of just rehashing the road so far. That’s all I want to do. I want to contribute. I want to say good…ful things. Okay this is making me happy. It’s already working, it’s already making me happy. I’m just going to keep rambling and laughing. Okay so, more thoughtful analysis, deeper analysis. Things that make you think. Things that make me think. Instead of just a bunch of words that mean nothing. Okay, continuing on.

Okay to figure out which episode this was I had to watch a little bit of season two, and I’m still on my season 13 rewatch. The difference between the two seasons. I don’t know if I can even put into words the growth this show has gone through, and the characters have gone through, over the last 15 years. It would be like summarising my own growth by combing through my extensive diary collection and the years of societally- and governmentally-enforced heterosexuality that has plagued my entire life. Those boys are babies in season two. The bootcut jeans alone. Sam is literally 23 years old. I don’t even talk to 23 year olds. I block them on social media.

The Harvelles are a blip in the Winchester map. While the actors Samantha Ferris and Chad Lindberg did attempt to resuscitate their cultural currency months after the show ended by participating in an event — okay I can’t. I can’t even go into it. Like, clearly Samantha Ferris heard back from her representation as soon as she started posting those tweets and realised she wouldn’t continue to get money if she endorsed, well, the gays. And Chad Lindberg was just using the clout to push his Etsy wares like a 14th century merchant, so I gotta respect the hustle. But Jo and Ellen die in season 5 episode “Abandon All Hope” and are barely mentioned again except the episode Ash appears in, season 5 “Dark side of the moon,” Jo in season 7, “Defending Your Life,” and Ellen in the season 6 episode “My heart will go on.” They didn’t exactly leave what you would call a lasting impact for the next, you know, ten seasons.

To be honest, I’m not sure when it’s revealed that Bobby’s wife died after being possessed by a demon. It’s made clear in season 5 “Dead Men Don’t Wear Plaid,” and I did not have to look that up, because season four and five are burned into my retinas like a particularly nasty sun flare. Bobby outlines the horrific way he killed his wife, because why not throw some spousal violence into the mix, and later in season 7 “Death’s Door,” it elaborates on their life together. I saw this sentiment expressed on TikTok, which we all know as the foundation of cultural knowledge, which was that fambilies don’t need to be two parents and children. Fambilies can be spouses or partners. You don’t need to have children in order to be a fambily. I think that’s a very nice sentiment and I’ve chosen to adopt it for these purposes. Bobby and his wife Karen are a fambily. While Karen wants kids, Bobby chooses not to have them for fear of becoming like his father and repeating the trauma he inflicted on Bobby. Bobby and Karen’s fambily dynamic is ruptured in the same way that John and Mary’s is—by an intrusive, demonic force that brings Bobby into the hunting world and ends Karen’s life. But by the time we see him at the end of season 1, Bobby is already ingratiated into Sam and Dean’s lives as their surrogate father, and this bond only deepens as the show progresses. Bobby expresses the sentiment to Dean to not be like John, that Dean is already a better man that his father ever was. Isn’t that what we all want to hear? That we have superseded our parents and outgrown them in ways they could never comprehend? Don’t we just want to be better than the generations that came before us, in order to mould a better world for the generations that come after us? Don’t we want to make things easier for our children, and our friends’ children, and our siblings’ children? Dean is a better man than John, and Bobby is better man than his father ever was. It’s about breaking the cycles of intergenerational trauma. I have to believe that Sam, Dean and Bobby did this, because then it’s possible for me to do the same thing. Include here that speech about representation in media that I didn’t bother writing for the last episode. Bobby is the surrogate father to Sam and Dean, a better father than John was, a better hunter even. He crafts an entire network of hunters who report to him, as seen in the season 6 episode “Weekend at Bobby’s,” and he continues to act as Sam and Dean’s mentor until his death in season 7 “How to win friends and influence monsters”. An alternate universe version of Bobby is introduced in season 13, which I have my reservations about, and he and Mary get together, which again, why. Season 13 is so hard to sit through.

A fambily that is introduced late into the series and is simply NOT given enough screen time is the Banes fambily. In season 12, “Celebrating the life of Asa Fox,” we are introduced to the Banes twins, Max and Alicia, who are by far the most gorgeous hunters we’ve seen in the series. They are hunters raised by a witch, Tasha Banes, who doesn’t appear yet, and they manage to survive the trial by fire that is overcoming the demon Jael. Later in this season, in the episode “Twigs and Twane and Tasha Banes,” both of which are written by the late great Steve Yockey, we are introduced to Tasha in a way that seems awfully familiar: Alicia calls Sam to say their mother has gone missing on a hunt, and hasn’t checked in in a few days. By the end of the episode, Alicia and Tasha are dead, and Max has ostensibly sold his soul for the power to bring Alicia back. The Banes twins’ storyline directly parallels Sam and Dean’s from the pilot, but it’s a tragedy from the outset. We already know Tasha is dead and they can’t save her, however, like Dean does for Sam at the end of season 2, Max chooses to save Alicia at the expense of his own soul. Spin off when. Banes twins series when. I’m waiting. They were in two episodes and I’m still thinking about them. The Harvelles are dust.

In season 7, “Reading is Fundamental,” a waifish 17 year old honour’s student Kevin Tran breaks into a rehabilitation facility to steal a tablet. This starts a chain of events that ingratiates Kevin Tran in the apocalyptic, death-succumbing world of the Winchesters, starting with Dick Roman, head leviathan, and continuing, but not culminating, with his death at the hands of Gadreel, who was possessing Sam, it’s a whole thing. Any time you attempt to summarise anything on Supernatural, you sound like a lunatic. And I say that as someone who has a supernatural podcast, with an audience of only supernatural fans. We are lunatics, but we’re lunatics together. Kevin’s arc was cut way too short, but we at least got to see him with his momma Linda in the beginnings of season 8 with the unfortunately named episode “What’s up, Tiger Mommy?” It introduces Linda Tran as a capable and worldly woman, hell bent on protecting her son. She offers up her soul among other things in exchange for Kevin and the tablet with him. During the episode, she is possessed by Crowley, and Dean attempts to kill him, which would mean killing Linda as well. Kevin considers this the ultimate betrayal and leaves with his mum. Later in season 9 episode “Captives,” Linda is reintroduced as a captive of Crowley, who escapes with Sam’s help. Back at the bunker, she reunites with Kevin, who is now, thanks to the Winchesters’ incompetence, a ghost 👻. My macbook keeps suggesting little emojis in the smart bar so I just gotta put ‘em in. That’s the last we see of Linda, so I’m drawing my own conclusions about whether she gets to live a long and happy life. Kevin is a fan favourite and despite my reservations about Osric Chau which I will not get into like ever I really like Kevin too. He outsmarts Crowley many times and shows remarkable tenacity to get an impossible job done. His desire to see his mum again, the driving force behind his actions, mirrors Dean’s desperation to have his fambily together again like they used to be. I would call this a parallel but I don’t believe they purposefully did this, I just think they accidentally rehashed the same tired storyline they’ve been peddling since 2005. But yeah, if I was Kevin and all I had was my mum, seeing her again would be the driving force for my actions as well. Kevin’s father is never mentioned, and it honestly isn’t a big deal, which is great. Sometimes fathers are just absent, and you don’t need throw a hissy fit about it or make it your entire personality, Dean.

Missouri Moseley, played by the inimitable Loretta Devine, is introduced in the first season, episode “Home,” in which she helps out on a case involving Sam and Dean’s childhood house. We find out that Missouri is a long-time friend of John’s and helped him to understand that supernatural forces were behind Mary’s death. She is Sam and Dean’s first point of entry into the world of the Supernatural, and they didn’t know it until they meet her in “Home”. In season 13 episode “Patience,” another layer to Missouri’s character is added with the advent of her family: estranged son James and granddaughter Patience Turner, who is also a psychic. We get a lot of backstory for Missouri in this episode, even if it is sloppily written and contradictory to the way they initially set her up. If Missouri and James had been travelling when he was a child, why was she stationed in Lawrence in both 1983 and 2005? What did he mean that Missouri was hunting? I can’t be bothered unpacking the confusing bits of information presented in this episode. It’s not a good episode and I really don’t see why everyone goes apeshit for Bobo Berens. He kills Missouri in this episode, in a really horrible way. Like the history of Supernatural’s racism and misogyny should not be dumped on one man, but nor should it be perpetuated and it is continually throughout the entire show. Confusing, contradictory and badly written backstory aside, she is an interesting character, and her willingness to sacrifice herself to save her family echoes that of Mary in “Home”. I’m actually really mad that Patience never gets to have a relationship with Missouri, and later in season 13 episode “The Bad Place,” Patience’s father tells her that if she leaves to help The Winchesters and uses her psychic abilities, she’s not welcome back in his house. To me that’s just unnecessary. We have a family that has already been ruptured by the death of Patience’s mother, further ruptured by Patience’s father cutting off contact with Missouri, and then to go a step further he disintegrates their family unit by kicking Patience out. Like how much loss do the Moseley-Turners have to endure? It’s really just cruel at this point. But Patience does find family with Jodie, Donna, Claire, Alex and eventually Kaia, and while I love the concept of found family and this found family in particular, it comes at the expense of biological family, which is something that the show has pushed from the very first episode. So that’s evolution in itself. Going from “fambily is the most important thing to these characters” to “found fambily is where we find love” is great, but ripping apart a biological fambily like the Moseley-Turners, and indeed starting the episode by saying Missouri has been shunted out of her son and granddaughter’s lives for trying to bring her son comfort, is just fucked. Like, I couldn’t name a single Bobo episode that I actually like without having to comb through them. I’m trying really hard not to shit all over him because as a writer I know how much that sucks and I know how hard is it for any marginalised writers to get a start, but I’m allowed to have my vendettas.

If you’ve watched the “Runs In The Family” angels MV from 2010, and only if you’ve watched the “Runs In The Family” angels MV from 2010, you will understand just how jacked up the angel family really is. The angelic counterpoint to Sam and Dean are the archangels Lucifer and Michael. We are introduced to two different versions of Michael—one in season 5, who possesses their dad in 1979 and their brother Adam in 2010—my god that was literally over a decade ago—and Apocalypse World Michael, played by four different actors: Felisha Terrell, Christian Keyes, Jensen Ackles, and Ruth Connell, who plays Rowena. I don’t know what in the hell Jensen Ackles was doing performance-wise when playing Michael, but I consider it a federal crime akin to drug trafficking or money laundering. As for Christian Keyes playing Michael, Andrew Dabb, you know what you did and you’re going to have to live with that.

In season 5, during the apocalypse, Michael and Lucifer only interact in the last episode, “Swan Song,” but the entire season is built around their conflict. Lucifer disobeyed their father, and Michael as God’s most powerful weapon must defeat him. It’s meant to mirror Sam’s descent into, uhhhh, badness or something, disobeying John to run away to Stanford, or, like, drinking demon blood? It’s unclear. Lucifer and Apocalypse World Michael interact in season 13, and Michael kills Lucifer only to take over Dean’s body and start a season-long arc of, like, bad acting and barely thought-out plots. I would say to Jensen Ackles “don’t quit your day job,” but this is literally his day job.

The angels as they’re introduced in season 4 are warriors of god, and all they know is obedience and killing. Even Cas can’t break out of the cycle of killing his angel siblings, and often justifies it by saying that it’s for the greater good, that he needs to do it to take down a stronger force like Raphael or Metatron. Anna manages to break free of her family by falling and becoming human, but when Cas betrays her and the angels capture her, she is lobotomised, tortured and sent back out to kill Sam. Then she’s burned to a crisp by Michael possessing John, not the last time a woman would burn to death on this show. The angels are dysfunctional at best, and actively hostile to each other, especially Castiel, the infamous spanner in the works. I could write an entire academic paper about how the angels think of Castiel as this rebel slut who murdered his way to the top and is going to be the downfall of angel kind, but Dean thinks of him as this little nerdy guy with a harp he carries around in his back pocket. Which honestly Cas would love because he’s obsessed with Dean and wants to touch his butt. I don’t know what else I can say about the angels without turning this into a dissertation, so I’ll continue on.

While all seasons of the show are about family, season six is especially about matrilineal family. It introduces the concept of the mother of monsters—Eve—and focuses on Mary as a solution to the loneliness the characters feel after her death. Samuel Campbell, Mary’s father, is brought back to life and manipulated by the promise of seeing his daughter again. He asks Sam and Dean what they wouldn’t do to see Mary again, which is kind of the general thesis of the show. What wouldn’t John, Dean and Sam do for each other? Dean sells his soul. John makes a deal with the demon who killed Mary. Sam teams up with Ruby to kill Lilith in revenge, which begins as a suicide mission because he doesn’t know how to handle his grief for Dean. The difference is that Samuel betrays Sam and Dean, his own grandchildren, for the promise of seeing Mary again. This cardinal sin alienates him from being a good guy, because good guys never betray Sam and Dean. Sam and Dean are our protagonists! Our heroes! The bringers of the light! The knights in shining armour! The white on rice. The cherry in cherry pie. They are the ones we’re meant to align ourselves with, because it’s their story the narrative is telling. And anyone who doesn’t align themselves with the Winchesters is an enemy who needs to be defeated.

We’re introduced to the character of Gwen in the first episode of season 6, “Exile on Main Street”, and she says in the episode “Family Matters” that Samuel, the patriarch, doesn’t like her very much because she reminds him of Mary. While Samuel, Christian, Gwen and co are technically family, Dean has no connection to them past bloodlines. And as I said before, while family doesn’t end in blood, we learn throughout this season that blood doesn’t always mean family. Gwen dies in the episode “And Then There Were None,” because of course she does, and Mary doesn’t come back, at least not in this season.

In “Family Matters,” the alpha vampire, played by the irreplaceable Rick Worthy, mentions that “we all have our mothers,” referring to Eve, the mother of monsters, the one who spawned every other monster and who has been trapped in purgatory ever since. Eve is pulled from Purgatory to wage war against the hunters and Crowley because they have been preying on her first borns, the alphas. I love Eve. I love her. She’s my favourite villain after Metatron. Mainly because I think she is like… sexy as hell. Like wow I am just so attracted to Julia Maxwell and this, like, bored smokey affect thing she does where she barely moves her mouth when she speaks and her strong brow makes her seem so intimidating. I don’t know anything about her personally, but I feel like she would’ve bullied me in high school, and I’m into it. It’s really hard to judge just from this one role whether she’s a good actor because Eve has such limited range and few things to do, but I really wish she’d gotten more screen time. Yeah, she’s doing the bare minimum and I’m completely obsessed. But Eve isn’t just a monster, she’s literally THEE milf. The original milf. And I really think she should’ve stayed around, but since they kept Lisa alive they had to kill at least one high profile woman.

Continuing with the family storylines in season 6, Dean tries to establish a family with Lisa and Ben, and for the most part succeeds. He gets a job, plays the role of the doting boyfriend and stepfather, and protects them as best he can. I’m going to spare you the rant perched at the tip of my tongue about how this is at best a lavender marriage or staying together for the kid, and that Lisa only exists to be an ideal for Dean, not an actual partner he can grow with throughout the rest of the show. It’s his first attempt at a fambily outside of Sam, Bobby and John, and it fails miserably because Lisa isn’t a good match. The fact is, she will never be able to fit into the hunting world because of the way the writers wrote her—as mother and girlfriend archetype, and we’ve seen how well they do with those—in fact they actively paralleled it in “Exile on Main Street” where they had Dean hallucinate Azazel coming back and pinning Lisa to the ceiling. It couldn’t be more obvious that they don’t respect her. At least they didn’t fridge her for Dean’s man pain. It’s honestly horrible because Dean put so much effort into believing this was his one chance at happiness, and when it crumbles like a tim tam in hot tea he beats himself up for it and uses it as an excuse to never be happy.

He does seem to be happy for the most part with Lisa, but because Sera Gamble doesn’t know how to write interesting or complex female characters, when Sam reenters the picture it once again becomes about the original premise: two brothers on the road, fighting the forces of evil. There’s no room for any women in that sphere. Up until this point I think—correct me if I’m wrong—there has been one female hunter who survived, and she was in one episode. The hunter Tamara in season 3 “The Magnificent Seven,” whose husband died in maybe the most sadistic way anyone has died on this show. Don’t rewatch it, just google it. All women die, including Mary, their mother, who is brought back in season 12 and killed in season 14. AND FOR WHAT? For WHAT Andrew Dabb.

Often, the loss of a parent, child or significant other is used to excuse bad behaviour and terrible choices. The hunting life causes Mary’s whole family to die before she can escape it, and because she makes a deal with Azazel for John’s life, the same demon John makes a deal with, Azazel kills her anyway. John abused his kids and brought them into the hunting life, because he was obsessed with getting revenge for Mary’s death. Sam does the same thing when Jess dies in the first season, and it starts a 15-season long arc of pain and misery. He sets Lucifer free in the season four because he is obsessed with getting revenge for Dean’s death and obsessed with the power drinking demon blood gives him. Then again, Sam is actually right for saving people by exorcising demons, which is literally the first part of the family business motto, instead of just gutting them with the demon knife, but because Dean doesn’t agree with it, it’s bad. Sam always wants to do the right thing, he just gets a little caught up in the details. But you know what? Bloodfreak rights.

When Cas dies in season 13, Dean is so overcome with grief, a grief that echoes John and Sam’s, that he mistreats Jack and threatens to kill him. In season 14, Nick, Lucifer’s vessel, boo snore hiss, kills everyone involved with the murder of his wife and child before he finds out that it’s actually Lucifer’s doing, and then he tries to raise Lucifer from the empty because he’s addicted to killing? Whatever, stop employing Mark Pellegrino. Stop writing men as obsessed with getting revenge

The biological fambilies in Supernatural suck shit. Honestly every time I watch an episode about fambily I’m even more glad I don’t talk to mine. Dean and Sam need to spend some time away from each other, while they’re both still alive. Their fambily dynamic gets better as the show progresses, and I was pleased to see in season 12 that they do away with the codependency, constantly sacrificing themselves for each other, isolating themselves, betraying everyone they know for each other—they started to act like, you know, normal people. And that’s good. Sure, the show would not be anywhere without John sacrificing himself for Dean, and Dean sacrificing himself for Sam, and honestly that’s what made those first few seasons amazing. But after a while it becomes lazy writing, not parallels. A parallel that Supernatural pulled off is Sam comforting Magda in season 12 episode “The Survivor” in the way he needed to be comforted in season 1 and 2 as a psychic child. A parallel is Dean preparing Cas’s body for cremation in season 13 in counterpoint to the way Cas remade Dean’s body in season 4. This show can absolutely do parallels, some of the most beautiful parallels ever put on screen, but the last season was such lazy writing that I cannot forgive it.

This has been an overall negative episode of Holy Hell, and that sucks. I don’t want to be so negative. I want to talk about the good things that Supernatural did, and share in joy with you all, so now I’m going to talk about the only positive I see with fambily in the entire show.

For Dean, everyone older than him is a parent to disappoint, and everyone younger than him is a little sibling to protect. Cas is the exception, as there’s no way to define Dean and Cas’s relationship without acknowledging the reciprocal romantic ways they care about each other. Dean says on multiple occasions that Cas is like a brother to him, and that he’s Sam and Dean’s best friend. He actually drops the line, “After Sam and Bobby, you are the closest thing I have to family,” on Cas in season 6, and he acts like it’s nothing, but you can see in the expression on Cas’s face that Dean just recontextualised the entirety of Cas’s being in one sentence. Cas falls for Dean, gives up his family for Dean, and decides to follow him in the first act of free will we see on screen. And Dean, who has never known love without pain, says to Cas, you are fambily to me, I actively choose you, you belong in my life. But to belong in Dean’s life is to follow his plan, and when Cas doesn’t, he is punished for his hubris. Dean loves him, and he never even admits it.

Charlie becomes like a little sister to Dean, as does Jo. Jack is unequivocally Cas’s son, but becomes something of Dean’s son as well and some would argue Sam’s son. Claire becomes Cas’s daughter, but imprints so much on Dean that many, myself included, have come to consider Dean her father as well. If you subscribe to the idea that Dean and Cas are old marrieds, Dean would be Claire and Jack’s stepfather, and they would be a nuclear fambily all on their own. In season 14 “Lebanon,” when John says to Dean that he thought Dean would have settled down with a fambily, Dean says, “I have a fambily.” Just thinking about it gives me goosebumps.

Cas chooses to be a part of Claire’s life in season 10 “The Things We Left Behind” because he feels guilty about what happened to her after he possessed Jimmy, but after getting to know Claire he cares for her. The crime that is Claire and Cas not interacting after season 10, my god. That’s his daughter, you ghouls. But Claire and Dean do get more moments together. Dean, Sam and some British guy save Claire from turning into a werewolf, and Claire and the rest of the Wayward Sisters save Sam and Dean from the Bad Place. The Wayward Sisters are a found fambily all on their own, and since I could devote an entire episode to Jody’s little brood, I have chosen not to talk about them much, because this episode is at least half an hour, 34 minutes, and it would take up too much of my time. Claire is one of my favourite characters and I’ll be talking about her in the next ep, so stay tuned for that.

Even before Jack is born, Cas becomes his protector. He goes from trying to convince Kelly to end her and Jack’s life, to being her pseudo-husband and the surrogate father to her child. To me personally, it’s the best thing this show has ever done. Cas, Kelly and Jack love each other in a way that is so wholly uncomplicated, that is so pure and so good. Once Cas becomes Jack’s protector, there’s never any question of whether they would hurt or betray each other. He is Cas’s son, his baby boy, and he loves Cas so much that he resurrects Cas from the empty. When they meet for the first time in season 13 “Tombstone” after Cas comes back, they fit into each other’s lives so easily. This is the part in writing this where I was absolutely sobbing my dick off. There are so many moments between them that show the kind of love that each of these characters deserved. Sam and Dean deserve to have that love from their father, and so does Cas. And together they build a family unit around caring for Jack that does indeed end the intergenerational trauma that plagues the Winchester fambily.

And that’s why season 16 is so important to me. I can make things better. Dean sorts his shit out, all of his shit: his alcoholism, depression, ADHD, borderline personality disorder, suicidal ideation, sexuality, gender, the fact that Cas is literally the love of his life and he gets to save him from the Empty the way Cas saved him from Hell. They plant flowers in the field where Dean spread Cas’s ashes in season 13, and they get married at Jody’s cabin with all their loved ones left alive. Claire walks Cas down the aisle and Jack is the flower girl, because he’s literally a three year old baby. Sam and Eileen raise a bunch of rugrats and the Wayward fambily continue the hunting legacy and have a Sunday afternoon roast every week. Dean and Cas raise Jack right, they cut up oranges for soccer practice and watch all his school plays. He and his cousins grow up knowing what it’s like not only to be loved, but to be looked after, to have all their needs met. They grow up normal, and the trauma that plagued their family is a thing of the past. It’s good, you know? It’s just fucking good.

#transcripts #episodes #supernatural #spn

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mersuperwholocked-lowlife · 4 years ago

Text

Family Is Overrated

Word Count: 1,687

Characters: Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, Reader, Jody Mills (brief), Bucky Sims, Lorraine Fox, Alicia & Max (brief)

Pairings: Dean Winchester x Daughter!Reader

Warnings: angst

A/N: uhm.... it’s here, sorry it’s bad lol haha i suck

A/N 2: this is part two of Ace!

A/N 3: Based off of Season 12, Episode 6, Celebrating The Life of Asa Fox

Masterlist Ace

“Who’s gonna tell Jody?” you asked, standing around with Lorraine and Bucky.

“I don’t know,” Bucky sighed.

“Well, someone does. She was his closet friend,” you looked at him.

“I can’t do this,” Lorraine’s eyes watered up.

“I know, I’m so sorry for your loss, Lorraine. If you need any help….” you gave her a sorrowful look.

“Will you plan the funeral?” she asked you.

You knew you couldn’t say no. After everything Asa did for you, you needed to do this for him.

“Of course,” you nodded.

“Will you tell Jody?” Bucky turned to you.

You nodded softly.

“Thank you, dear. I know I can count on you,” her eyes watered once more.

“Of course. I’m sorry,” you wrapped your arms around her before leaving with Bucky.

“Why are you making that face, Ace?” he laughed softly.

“Asa’s gone. I knew I should've stayed with you two, it’s all my fault,” you gave him a look.

“Wasn’t your fault Ace. Mistakes were made. It was Jael’s fault,” he sighed.

“After this wake, I’m going to hunt him down. He’s dead,”

“You sure that’s a good idea?” Bucky crosses his arms.

“Yeah, I can do it,” you shrugged.

“By yourself?” he raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah, so?” you gave him a look.

“Look, no offense, Ace, but you're just a kid,” he started.

“I’m not a kid. I’m 21 for crying out loud!” you raised your voice.

“That’s still young. You’re too invested into hunting,”

“I’m fine. You don’t know what you’re saying. Bye,” you pushed past him, getting into your car and driving off.

---

Asa was a well-known hunter in the community, everyone knew about him as everyone knew about you.

It had been years since you last saw Sam, Dean, and Jason, or talked to them.

You’ve been going around hotel to hotel, hunt to hunt, finding any hunter that needed help. It took your mind off of everything. You didn’t care about people knowing that you were a girl, or how you looked. The only thing that you kept, was who your family was and your name. People told stories about Sam and Dean, while you just stayed quiet.

You dialed Jody’s number, getting ready to tell her about Asa. You met her many times, she was a nice person, but you didn’t know too much. You know she had two adopted daughters, both a few years younger than you, and you knew she was sheriff of Sioux Falls.

“Hey, kid. What’s up?” she picked up the phone with a cheerful voice. You felt your feelings drop, hearing how happy she sounded, and you were gonna ruin it.

“H-Hey, Jody. What’s going on?” you sniffled, taking a deep breath.

“Just have some friends over. We’re watching a movie. How was the hunt with Asa and Bucky?” she asked.

You paused, taking a deep breath.

“T-The demon…..” you started.

“The demon killed Asa,” you said softly.

You could hear her shallow breathing as your heart broke.

“Uhm, t-the wake’s today, and we’re cremating his body tomorrow. Lorraine wanted to get him out as soon as she can,” you explained.

“O-Oh,” she stuttered.

“I’m so, so sorry for your loss, Jody. I wish I could’ve saved him,” you started.

“No, no, kid. It’s not your fault. I-I’ll, uh, I’ll be there as soon as I can,” she sniffled.

“Okay,” you said softly.

“Okay,” she hung up the call.

You groaned to yourself, wiping your face, getting ready to go to Lorraine’s house.

---

“Quiet down!” you yelled for what seemed like the 100th time.

Hunters were loud. Drunk hunters were louder.

You sighed, grabbing a beer.

“You Ace?” you heard a man from behind you ask.

You turned to see him talking to Bucky.

“Nope,” he shook his head.

“I don’t get it, I’ve asked every hunter here, none of them are Ace,” the man sighed.

“Well, you didn’t ask me. Nice to meet you,” you gave a sarcastic smile.

“You?” he asked in disbelief.

“Do you have a problem with that?” you raised an eyebrow.

“Just…. not what I was expecting,” he replied.

“Now, I have a question for you. Did you ask every hunter here, or did you ask every man here?” you pushed off the table, crossing your arms as he went silent.

“Didn't think a woman could be the fiercest hunter here? Do you have a problem with women?” you walked near him, watching him tense up.

You saw Bucky hold in a laugh from the corner of your eye.

“N-No, no ma’am,” he stuttered.

“That’s what I thought,” you scoffed.

“M-May I just say it’s an honor to meet you. I’ve heard the stories about you, all the great things you’ve done,” he started.

Stories?

You knew that hunters knew you, but you didn't know they told stories.

“Oh, uh, thanks…. I think?” you hesitated briefly.

“So, how did you start hunting?” he asked you.

“My mom was a hunter, and when she died I felt like I had to take on her legacy,” you explained.

“What about any other family? Like your dad? Any siblings?” he bombarded you with questions.

“Dead. My dad died when I was a kid, and my brother died some time ago,” you lied.

“Oh, I’m so sorry for your loss,” he gave you a sad look.

“Well, it's been a while, and I’m okay,” you shrugged.

You gave a small smile, finding your way to find Lorraine.

---

“No labels, that’s a red sign,” Dean muttered to himself, picking up a beer bottle.

“Nah, it’s good. Homemade,” Bucky smiled.

“I’m Bucky Sims,” Bucky introduced.

“Dean Winchester,” he replied.

“Whoa, the Dean Winchester? As in like dead four times Dean Winchester?” another hunter, named Randy interrupted.

“Yeah, it, uh didn’t stick,” he gave a small smile.

“I mean, Asa was famous, but you’re here, and Ace is here? This is gonna get interesting,” he exhaled.

“Ace is here? I’ve always wanted to meet him,” Dean started.

“Uh, she,” Bucky corrected.

“Oh, really? Good for her,” Dean said, opening his beer.

---

“Oh, hey Alicia, Max,” you greeted the twins, standing in front of them.

“Hey, Ace, this is Sam,” she introduced you to the man standing in front of them.

He turned to you, as you felt shivers go down your spine.

Sam

“Oh my god,” you gasped.

“What the!?” he jumped up, looking at you in shock.

“I-It’s nice t-to meet you,” you stuttered, walking back.

Holy shit, oh my god

You panicked, walking to the back room.

“(Y/N),” you heard Dean call your name.

It’s been years since anyone called you by your name.

“Please, go away,” you said, walking into a room, with Sam and Dean entering with you.

“(Y/N), please, just talk to us,” Dean said.

“Shut up. Leave me alone, please,” you begged.

“You’re Ace? You’re freaking Ace?!” Dean raised his voice.

“So what if I am?!” you yelled at them.

“No, Ace was around before you left,” Sam remembered.

“I was Ace then, and I’m Ace now,” you said shakily.

“What the hell?!” Dean yelled.

“Just stop! Both of you!” you yelled.

“(Y/N), just listen,” Sam started.

“No! You have nothing to say to me, Sam. Do you think I-I forgot what the last thing you said to me was?!” you yelled.

“That wasn’t me, I swear. Look, when we were at the hospital, we were all waiting, i-in the waiting room. They weren’t letting us go in. We saw a shifter leaving your room, and then you were gone,” Sam’s eyes watered.

You went quiet.

“Where’s my brother?” you asked softly.

They both gave each other a look.

“Where is he?” you raised your voice.

“He’s gone,” Dean answered.

You felt your heart drop.

“W-What… what do you mean?” you stuttered. You knew, but you couldn’t. He couldn’t be gone.

“He’s dead, (Y/N)!” Dean yelled.

You jumped slightly, as your eyes watered.

Sam elbowed Dean, motioning to him to calm down.

“(Y/N),” Sam started.

“I’m sorry-” he continued.

“Please, j-just don’t. God, everything was okay before you came here,” you sighed.

“Okay? You call that okay? We looked for you, for so long! We thought you died, (Y/N)! You disappeared!” Dean yelled.

“Y-You think I was gonna stay there, with you?” you spat.

“We were gonna fix things,” Dean started.

“There was no fixing things! I told you that I-I hated you! And I still do! Do you think I-I wanted to fix things after everything that I said? I was in pain, Dean, and you made it worse. I bet you still don’t know where I was going that day,” you shook your head.

“Maybe I don’t, okay, but we’re family. We’re supposed to hate each other, and we’re supposed to fix things,” he said softly.

“What makes you think I want to? Look, out there, with all the hunters, I’m Ace. (Y/N) doesn’t exist. You two don’t know me. You can stay for Asa’s wake, but after this, I never, ever want to see you again,” you said shakily.

“That’s not your decision to make,” Dean said, as you started walking out of the room.

“It’s not yours either. You were the worst father. I’d be shocked if you even knew how old I am,” you scoffed, about to leave.

“You’re (Y/N) Winchester, born on April 20th, 1995. You’re 21 years old, your favorite color is blue, your favorite book is ‘To Kill a Mockingbird’. You wanted to go to Yale, and you’re my daughter. And I love you, so much. And I’m so sorry that I didn’t show it.”

You froze, your hand on the doorknob, as your tears fell to the floor.

“I spent years looking for you because you’re my kid, you’re my family, and you mean the world to me,” Dean walked next to you, putting his hand on yours, slowly taking it off the door.

“You’re smart, you’re fierce, you’re brave, you’re kind, you’re beautiful. And you’re too good for our family,” he turned you to face him.

“Family’s overrated anyways,” you sniffled, closing the door behind you.

(Posted @ on July 16, 2020)

Tagging - @vicmc624 @beancave @yoongi-holland @samsgirl93 @the-and-sign-anon @cryingskies @skyelikestowrite

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razorblade180 · 5 years ago

Text

Lasting Embers:Epilogue

Knock knock knock

Tenzen:*Opens door* Pssst, You up Jin?

Yujin:Zzzzzzz

Tenzen:Of course not...*smiles and walks over*

Yujin:Zzzzzz french toast....zzzzzzzz

Tenzen:(Why am I not surprised in the slightest) *inhales* YU-

Yujin:*covers his mouth*........

Tenzen:!!!!?

Yujin:*opens her eyes* Please......stop waking me up with screaming okay? Why can’t you just shake me like a normal person?

Tenzen:Your dad already gets antsy when I’m in your room too long. If I scream then at least he knows I’m actually waking you up like I say I am.

Yujin:*groaning* You’ve been living here for almost a year by now. If you were gonna try something then it would’ve happened by now.

Tenzen:Was that disappointment in your voice. *smirks*

Yujin:*red* Not in your wildest dreams sherbet top; I’m still sleepy, I’m gonna sleep longer. *closes eyes*

Tenzen:You do know what today is right?

Yujin:.......

Yujin:OH MY GODS!!!! *jumps out of bed* it totally slipped my mind!!!

Tenzen:There’s the spirit I was looking for! Ha-

Yujin:It’s already seven and we need to be in Vale by ten!!! I gotta get ready! *lefts shirt*

Tenzen:*closes eyes* Ummm could let me leave your room first!?

Yujin:Huh? *blushing* Oh!!! Sorry about that... *guiding him out*

Tenzen:You should shower before you try the new clothes on.

Yujin:I took one last night.

Tenzen:But beds can be filthy and gross.

Yujin:Hey, my sheets are clean so what are you implying? *squints*

Tenzen:I’m just saying important people will be there. Who knows, maybe even Lilith. Meeting your idol would be embarrassing if you smelled like fire and brimstone from all that weapon forging.

Yujin:......I see what you’re doing here. I hate how it worked too; tell dad I’ll be down soon.

Tenzen:Good! One more thing...

Yujin:Come on man I need to start-

Her face moving mind was quickly stopped by a gentle kiss. It wasn’t exactly long but there was definitely enough time for her to ease into it right before she snapped to her senses and jumped back. Yujin’s face was almost completely red.

Yujin:Tenzen!!!! We had a talk about this! Minds on self improvement and moving forward; confusing and pleasant feelings later. *pointing at him*

Tenzen:I remember, don’t get all bent out of shape over it. *smiles* just consider it my birthday present to you. *closes door*

Yujin:......

Yujin:Huh, it is my birthday isn’t.....? *smiles* guess I lost track of time.

Casually she grabbed her gear and headed towards the bathroom while her mind drifted off towards past events. When she finally arrived the mirror caught her attention more than usual; it was her hair. It had grown almost to the length it was on her last birthday. Blonde, wild, and just slightly passed her shoulders; for fun she turned on her semblance and took a minute to just take in the uncanny resemblance she shared with her mom. Once upon a time the sight would’ve made her blood boil but now, it only brought a gentle smile to her face.

Yujin:I wonder how you’re doing out there? I hope you’re okay wherever you are. *turns on water* Now it’s my turn to do my best....

Jaune:*flipping pancakes* Can you pass me the-

Tenzen:*hands him plates and fruit salads* Gotcha covered.

Jaune:I’m gonna miss having a little helper in the kitchen. Something tells me you and Yujin are gonna steal the show.

Tenzen:I’ll say, everyday I did nothing train my butt off in secret so I can surprise everyone. Yujin has probably read and practiced all training tips Yang left in that book at least a hundred times.

Jaune:I still can’t believe you two only trained together in hand to hand....*shakes head*

Tenzen:We want to keep it fair! Especially if for some reason we end up having to face off in some sort of contest. I for one cannot wait.

Yujin:I can, fighting you is a chore. *jumps down stairs* tadah!!!!

The gentleman took a minute to check out the new threads. Blue jeans were the first thing to catch their attention, followed by light brown combat boots that were laced up calf high. A sleeveless white tucked in shirt. Over was a light fabric, blue trench coat with the inside of it being orange. On her hands were brown fingerless gloves. Adam’s sun pendent and Tenzen’s jade dragon bracelet completes her look.

Yujin:Tenzen, I hope you realize the risk I’m taking wearing your bracelet; it matches nothing I own.

Jaune:I think you look very stylish.

Tenzen:About time you got some gear for hunting. I was starting to think you were gonna take on everything in blue jean shorts.

Yujin:Says the guy in tracksuits half the time. Where’s your new stuff?

Tenzen: I’ll change when we get there. The tracksuit life stays for a bit longer. You have tempered steel with you?

Yujin:Of course I d- *looks at her wrists* don’t? Where did I leave it? I could’ve sworn I put it on.

Jaune:Maybe check under the couch cushion.

Yujin:*checking* Why would they be under the- oh hey would you look at that?

Crafting a new weapon wasn’t easy in the slightest and frankly, Yujin still wasn’t sure she had it down. In her hands she held two thick pieces of metal that looked almost like box cutter blades. Each one went around here wrist like a slap bracelet that looked like her mother’s Ember Celica in rest mode. The colors were gold a blue and function the wasn’t the same; it wasn’t a shotgun. As she put them on she decided to flick her wrist to turn transformer it into the more recognizable gauntlets.

Yujin:Function B is still a little clunky but I think this should do for now.

Jaune:How’s Function A?

Yujin clicks the bracelets together as they go back to rest mode. Both pieces automatically straighten back out while still connected side by side to form a hilt. A blade then extends out of it.

Yujin:*inspecting the long sword* A fine blade if I do say so myself.

Jaune:Think it can cut a cake?

Yujin:Cake? Why would you say - *looks in the kitchen*

Jaune and Tenzen:*lighting a birthday cake* Happy Birthday Yujin!!!!

Yujin....*eyes widened* You made me shower again and hid my sword just to pull this off?

Tenzen:Maybe......

Jaune:I mean it’s a definite possibility we- *bothed pulled into a hug*

Yujin:......I love you both, I mean it.

Jaune:We love you too sweetheart.

Tenzen:Not everyone gets to have their sweet sixteen be the day of an exam. Maybe you can use a little birthday luck to give you an edge.

Yujin:*blows out candles* Luck will have nothing to do with it. I’m using everything I’ve been taught to make sure I pass.

Jaune:You gotta get there first, which brings me to my birthday gift to you. *holds up keys*

Yujin:*gasp* Shut up......

Jaune:So last year you sorta lost your car to an insane race with a train so I got a replacement for you. Never thought I’d say that sentence in my life. Now you’ll show up in style.

Yujin:*grabs keys* Garage or front yard!?

Jaune:Front Yard....

Yujin:*bolts outside*

Tenzen:Maybe you could’ve told her that after we had her slice the cake?

Yujin:*staring at white and blue vintage mustang; and it’s convertible.*...... This looks too beautiful touch. Am I even worthy enough for you. *tearing up*

Jaune:*shouts* the seats are leather!

Yujin:*jumps in* Yeeeeessssss...... *looking around* this thing is amazing! It’s-......

Her heart stops as she takes a look at the stick shift. Tied around it is a faded sky blue bandanna; her old bandanna. She takes it gently and starts to tear up as a someone starts to sing.

Happy Birthday to you....🎶

Yujin:*turns around sniffling*.....

Yang:Happy Birthday my Sundrop....🎶 *wipes away her tears* Happy Birthday to-

Yujin:Mom! *hugs her* you’re....home.

Yang:Told you I’d come back. I wasn’t gonna miss your exam day. *points to the house* Also.......

The young girl turns her head to see her Aunt hugging Jaune, but she wasn’t alone either. A smile showed up on her face to see Tenzen look just as emotional as she did. In his arms was both of his parents trying not cry. They were back, they were really back and right in front of her.Who would’ve thought a birthday wish could come true so fast? Today was already shaking up to be the best day of her life.

Yujin:You’re all alive!!!

Yang:Yeah.... *holds her close* we are.......

[Ship]

Jacquelyn:......*swollen eyes*

Blake:Jael?

Jael:*staring at Vale in the distance*.....

Blake:You know this doesn’t have to end ugly right?

Jael:Yeah it does.....

Jacquelyn:Listen...*sniff* I know this isn’t how we wanted things but there’s still hope. Don’t give up just-

Jael:Last year you told me not to let hate rule over me someone might get hurt remember?

Jacquelyn:I do.....

Jael:Well I’m already hurt. *turns around with tears down her face* Might as well share the pain with others.

Jacquelyn:.......please don’t do anything you’ll regret.

Jael:*turns back around* I won’t do anything crazy but hey, it’s my Birthday after all. I might get a little self indulgent...*grips her star pendant*

[Menagerie,hospital]

It’s quiet and smells sterile through the bright hallways. All throughout the building you can hear countless different beepings of machinery as they do their best to keep a loved one around just a bit longer. Sun roams these depressing corridors until he makes it to the back where only certain doctors and visitors are allowed for confidential reasons. He opens up the last door in the back to check in on a visitor; it’s Adam’s oldest daughter. She’s crying over her father’s bed as the man is unconscious and hooked up to different wires and tubes. It’s been like this for six months.....

Sun:Any changes?

Sienna:*shakes his head* He just won’t wake up. Today the doctor said he didn’t think the coma would last this long. Said.....he might not ever....*sniffling* might not ever....*covers mouth*

Sun:*holds her close*.......

Sienna:*sobbing* I can hear his heart beat. Yet they say we might as well start think about pulling the plug. How could they just say something like that!?

Sun:He’ll pull through just you watch. The man is to stubborn to die like this. I just hope when he gets up......things will be okay.

•

Yujin:Alright everyone! To the entrance exam! Get ready world....

•

Captain:Not too long before we arrive at Vale. To all you going to then entrance exam, good luck!

Jael:Get ready Yujin......

“I’m coming at you full force.”

To be continued....

#rwby #rwby lasting embers #yujin xiao long #lie tenzen #jaune arc #yang xiao long #lie ren #nora valkyrie #ruby rose #jael frost #sienna frost #jacquelyn frost #sun wukong #blake belladonna #rwby dragonslayer #renora #sunflowyr 2.0

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mostfacinorous · 5 years ago

Note

How are the Arklings? How do Crowley and Aziraphale take it when they're old enough to marry and have children of their own?

Still accepting drabble prompts in my inbox-- and this is another of the stories of #the arklings. Be sure to check the tag if you aren’t familiar... and, if you want to play in this sandbox yourself, please feel free. Just be sure and link me so I can read it too!

Jael was nearly nineteen when Noah and Ham come to their home to discuss the possibility of marriage. Ham’s wife had died in childbirth during the winter, and Jael was the eldest of their children– and the next youngest girl was Keturah, who was three years her junior.

Ham, though, was in his late thirties by now– old enough that it would have been an odd match before the flood, and yet…

“I should marry him.” Jael said, resolute after Aziraphale had sent them away, promising to think it over.

Crawly ground his teeth together.

“Now, Jael, consider this carefully–” Aziraphale began, but she shook her head.

“Noah’s grandchildren are all too young for me, and Amos is the oldest of ours, and he’s still too young and… like a brother, nearly. The others here, they’re all of an age where they’ll have choices, but this– this is mine. If I want a family of my own– oh, not that you aren’t!” She broke off, sounding distraught, and threw herself at Crawly, who, having grown used to this over the years, caught her easily and held her.

“Of course we will always be your family.” Aziraphale told her gently, stepping in close to stroke her hair and exchange a significant look with Crawly over her shoulder. “I only think– you may feel pressure to do this, but… we won’t make you. And we won’t allow Noah or his family to either. If you want to take the time to get to know him before you make a decision…” Aziraphale trailed off, clearly hoping Crawly would take over.

“As you said, Jael, this is your choice. And though it may not feel like much of one… if it’s not a good fit, if there’s no love, if you will be miserable with him, then… not marrying is an option too, alright? There are enough others, and we could always use your help here– this isn’t a burden you have to bear. You don’t have to marry, you don’t have to have children. I understand wanting to, but…”

“But if I want to, my choice is Ham or giving up on what I want.” Jael said, pulling back a bit. “Will you… talk to them? You treat us differently than they treat their wives, I– I don’t even know any of their names.”

It was true; the women of Noah’s camp were more traditionally raised, and tended not to speak when the strangers were around, unless instructed to, or unless it was necessary. They didn’t have much insight into their married lives, but it did seem to be a story of obedience and inequality. Which was the norm, but…

But that was not how they had treated their girls.

“We’ll talk to them. We’ll explain. Remember, for all that you feel like he is your only option? Our family is their family’s only choice if they don’t want to die out. That gives us some advantage.” Crawly gave her one of his more threatening smiles, which seemed to reassure her greatly.

“I think the fathers usually work out an agreement, anyway. The men of our village used to barter their daughters for livestock or gold– a brideprice, they called it. If you make my good treatment part of the bargain… I just want to be sure that I can come back, if it’s… if it’s not good.”

“We’ll have you help us to write up the agreement, if and when the time comes for that.” Aziraphale promised. “Like I said, we will always be your family, and Crawly and I have sworn to keep you safe. That won’t change no matter where you are living or who you marry or don’t. Get to know him, my dear. Don’t be hasty.”

She nodded, and stood up, pulling away from Crawly completely now to wipe at her eyes.

“Thank you.” She told them both, and took a deep breath. “Yes, I’d like to– will you make the arrangements?”

They did. And Crawly chaperoned, alongside Japheth, standing back and watching as the two walked through the greenery that had been growing these past seven years.

“They make a handsome pair.” Japheth offered, to break the silence while Crawly strained to hear the conversation.

“Hm. They could,” He responded. “It really depends if she decides she likes him or not.”

“You know, my wife did not originally like me very much.” Japheth said. “Her father liked our family, though, and look how that turned out. We have four children, and she survived the flood. Her father was a wise man.”

Crawly turned a narrow eyed glare on the other man.“I am not her father, and she survived the flood without one. She is wise enough to make her own choices. And I will not have her resenting me, or Ham, or her children, if they have them, for forcing her into a position she didn’t choose.”

Japheth looked shocked at that, and kept his sour faced expression all the way until he and his brother left.

“Whatever did you say to that man?” Aziraphale asked, once they were gone, his old habit of suspicion and blame still strong. Crawly was used to it now, though it stung, and Crawly snorted to hide it.

“I told him that I wouldn’t force Jael into marrying his brother, and I doubted his wife appreciated the way her father did it to her.”

Aziraphale sighed. “Well, you’re right, but you really oughtn’t have said so. I’m fairly sure she and Shem’s wife have an understanding of their own worked out, and I hope Japheth doesn’t become overly observant because of this.”

Crawly felt a slight pang, but covered it with an almost vicious glee.

“Let him. We’ll take them in as well, and corner the market on women who won’t put up with their shit.”

Jael tittered, and Aziraphale shot them both unimpressed Looks.

“Well,” she volunteered, “I explained to Ham that I was raised to ask questions, and find better ways of doing things, and to say no, and if he didn’t like that, then there was no match here for him. He listened, and seemed to understand. He asked me about you-- I didn’t tell him what you are, don’t worry, but... they’re confused, I think. It may take some time.”

Aziraphale took her hand and held it, his face softening and voice gentle as he reiterated their support. “You take all the time you need. We’ll make sure they give it to you.”

She smiled and ducked her head, and Crawly was just glad that they had been able to change this-- for a few generations, at least, things would be better for their daughters.

Ham and Jael were married two springs later, and while Noah had been confused at it taking so long, it made more sense once Jael had relocated to their camp.

And with the foals they’d traded for early on now old enough to carry them, and Fate still with them, Jael’s presence broke the metaphorical seal, and suddenly their camps were more united. The children and adults alike made the trip back and forth for visits, and to trade, and to gossip and play games.

Their families interwove slowly over time, and they built houses closer and closer together, until it was practically one long town that had sprung up between their original settlements.

Jael’s firstborn was fourteen when the last of the original arklings married- Samuel and Grace had been infants when they were plucked from the waves, but now they were in the process of building a home of their own.

And Crawly realized that they were nearing the end of their time playing family.

Of course they would remain near the humans, but... their house was all but empty now, and they had no need of care from their children, the way Noah did.

Hell had begun sending signs, wanting him to come back and make reports, and he was sure Heaven wouldn’t be far behind.

They’d fulfilled their promise. The children were safe, and grown, knew how to care for themselves and one another, how to grow and build and cook and survive.

Crawly had not felt so heavy hearted since he’d first woken after his fall, and he shook his head and turned to Aziraphale.

“I think... I have to go.” He told him quietly.

Their children lived away now, but they still were around, visiting together and reminiscing among their old beds, in the too large room.

Aziraphale looked at him, and seemed both shocked and hurt. Crawly nodded at the pentagram burned into the wood of a nearby beam.

“If I don’t go, they’ll come here looking. None of us wants that.”

Aziraphale seemed somewhat mollified by this, but he still looked uncertain.

“You mean to leave me here with them... alone?” He asked, and Crawly snorted, remembering how he’d asked something similar on the ark, when he’d gone in search of a hiding spot for their stowaways.

“You can manage.” He answered. “You know what you’re doing, now.”

He didn’t say how they didn’t need them-- Aziraphale must know, and he didn’t want to see the wounded expression back on his face.

“I’ll be back when I can, but it might do to lay low for a while. Make myself scarce. Go see who else is still out there, elsewhere on Earth. So Down There doesn’t get any good ideas about me doing something I don’t want to to this lot.”

Aziraphale swallowed and looked away, composing himself before he answered.

“Rather.” he said finally, quietly, and turned to offer Crawly his hand. “This has been-- I wouldn’t have expected it but... thank you. For everything, these past years.”

It seemed like both too much and too little, and Crawly knew he had no words up to the challenge of answering.

He took Aziraphale’s hand, and, flashing a quick smile, turned suddenly into a snake, laughing as Aziraphale dropped him in surprise.

“Tell the kids I said ssso long.” He requested, slithering away, and he thought he heard Aziraphale answer, but he didn’t stick around to find out. He knew that if he did-- if he looked back-- if he hesitated at all-- he would never be able to leave.

#xandwyrms #Good Omens #Good Omens fic #the arklings #that writing thing I do

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mittensmorgul · 6 years ago

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Hello! May I ask what's your take on Sam and Dean always killing demons instead of using exorcism (unless it's somebody they care about)? Love your blog btw

Hey hi! And thank you! I do my best :)

I think they have attempted to demonstrate a shift over the years. In early days, demons were an exceedingly rare thing. In 1.04, they were a huge, scary “way above our pay grade” entity that they had practically no experience dealing with. They couldn’t even identify the demon without the “Christo,” you know? Noobs. :P

It became clear early in s2 when they were talking with Bobby-- who they first approached as a demon expert in 1.22-- that this was all about to change. from 1.22:

Bobby: Normal year, I hear of, say, three demonic possessions. Maybe four, tops.Dean: Yeah?Bobby: This year I hear of 27 so far. You get what I’m saying? More and more demons are walking among us – a lot more.Sam: Do you know why?Bobby: No, but I know it’s something big. The storm’s coming, and you boys, your daddy – you are smack in the middle of it.

And this was back when they had no idea they even COULD kill a demon. They didn’t have Ruby’s knife yet, they didn’t even know angels existed let alone have their own handy angel blades, and they had literally ONE bullet left of the original Colt which they were saving for Azazel... There wasn’t much they could do to actually kill most demons...

We know the demon problem only escalated after that, and then escalated even more dramatically after 2.22 when the hell gate was opened. After that, in the buildup to the Apocalypse, more and more demons flooded the Earth, whether as Lilith’s henchmen, or later on the orders of some of the Horsemen or once Lucifer was freed. The world, in the aftermath of all that, is a very different place.

Under Crowley’s leadership, Hell became basically a corporate entity, doing business through souls acquisition and closing deals, and the nature of most demon interactions on Earth shifted from General Mayhem to keeping the demons in line more as employees of the Hell Machine, you know? But there were still plenty of demons quietly running around doing their own thing, or else working for other demons who’d try to keep them off hunter radar for the most part.

But what did exorcisms really do? I mean, in a pinch, they do help the immediate situation, but those demons come right back, you know? Or at least, they come back sooner or later, only to possess someone else.

Like, think of Jeffrey in 7.15, and his demon he wanted to possess him again. He’d been exorcised several years earlier, but when his demon came back, it didn’t want to possess HIM anymore. It wanted to possess and break someone new. Or, perhaps, most famously, Meg. They tried to exorcise her at least three times (1.22, 2.14 where she escaped before they could finish the exorcism, and in 5.01 she flees again before Dean can outright kill her).

In 12.06, they chose to exorcise Jael because he was possessing their friend, despite the fact that several of them were armed with weapons that could’ve killed Jael outright, AND the fact that Jael had been exorcised several times before by Asa Fox. Exorcising him instead of killing him, they knew he would eventually pop back up and will go back to doing what he’d always done-- possessing people and killing them. But Jael had WANTED to hurt them, to force them to try and kill their loved ones. That’s his MO. So instead, they saved all their friends, working together to exorcise Jael from Jody. He was also a powerful enough demon to physically control half a dozen other hunters and keep them pinned down so they couldn’t just stab him with the demon knife or an angel blade. So exorcism was their “we’ll all survive to fight another day” strategy there.

And they haven’t really dealt with an awful lot of demons since then, you know? They dealt with the remaining Yellow Eyed Demons in s12-- Ramiel and Dagon, and then Asmodeus in s13, but aside from Kip and his minions in 14.01, their demon interactions have been really rare.

And when dealing with Big Bad Demons who are nigh on invulnerable to standard methods of exorcism or killing, it becomes a “whatever works to end this threat” situation. It’s kill or be killed when fighting something like Ramiel or Dagon, you know? Not exactly the sorts of scenarios where they have time to get precious worrying about saving the meatsuit.

Sometimes ending the bad thing before it hurts even MORE people (or ends THEM) takes precedence. Whether it’s exorcism to save people in that moment or killing the thing (and potentially the person it’s possessing) that happens to be the best option in each instance is something they’ve had to accept since their first exorcism.

But going all the way back to early days, we began to learn that the humans didn’t always survive their possession, you know? Famously, in 3.12 the first demon they encountered in the prison cell had been possessing someone who was LONG dead. Then we had Abaddon’s soldier demons abandoning their own long-dead meatsuits on a bus in 9.02, and Sam and Dean capture several more demons for interrogation who are the only thing keeping their otherwise dead meatsuits alive. I mean, going all the way back to Meg in 1.22, they know that the chances they can actually save someone who’s been possessed are in no way guaranteed.

And like they said about Meg in 1.22...

Dean: Sam, there’s an innocent girl trapped somewhere in there. We’ve go to help her.Bobby (comes up to them): You’re gonna kill her.Dean: What?Bobby: You said she fell from a building. That girl’s body is broken. The only thing keeping her alive is that demon inside. You exorcise it – that girl is going to die.Dean: Listen to me, both of you, we are not gonna leave her like that.Bobby: She is a human being.Dean: And we’re gonna put her out of her misery. Sam, finish it.

As for Sam’s idealistic approach to saving meatsuits by using his psychic powers under Ruby’s tutelage in s4, it was a strategic part of her overall deception. It played into Sam’s sense of idealism, giving him a reason to continue to trust her, to continue to develop his powers, to continue to lie to Dean, to keep him isolated and more and more dependent on Ruby and his demon-blood-given powers. It was a lie, a manipulation, meant to make Ruby and her ever-increasing control over Sam seem like a good thing. It was not a good thing.

I just realized I’ve been working on this reply for the last three hours (while continuously being distracted due to real life) and I can’t even remember what you’d initially asked... I’m scared to scroll up and see just how long this has gotten... D:

(scrolls up)

Yep, it’s as rambling and tangent-filled as I feared...

I guess the tl:dr here is it’s one huge murky grey area of morality, and they’ve come to accept the fact they literally can’t save everyone, despite doing their best to save as many people as they can.

#vessels and meatsuits #supernatural weapons #spn 1.22 #spn 2.14 #spn s4 #spn 4.22 #spn 2.22 #spn 5.01 #spn 7.15 #spn 12.06 #spn 12.12 #spn 3.12 #spn 9.02 #morality isn't just black and white like this especially where emotions are involved #still can't remember my proper grey area tag...#Anonymous

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dailyaudiobible · 6 years ago

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04/25/2019 DAB Transcript

Judges 4:1-5:31, Luke 22:35-53, Psalms 94:1-23, Proverbs 14:3-4

Today is the 25th day of April. Welcome to the Daily Audio Bible. I am Brian and it is always, always, always a joy to walk in here around the global campfire. And here we are together, stepping outside of all of the responsibilities and obligations and even chaos that's going on around us, and just let God's word wash into our lives and in over us and into us and then we leave this time rejuvenated. It's pretty amazing what can happen in just a few minutes with the Scriptures. So, let's get to it. We've begun the book of Judges and we’re beginning to meet the judges. We met 3 of the 13 judges yesterday. Some of these judges, you know, there’s just a paragraph of mention, others have the full, you know, kind of story and what we’re ultimately learning is what happened after Moses and Joshua, what happened after the children of Israel moved into the promised land. So today we’re reading from the English Standard Version and we’ll read Judges chapters 4 and 5.

Commentary:

Okay. So, in the Old Testament we’re learning of the judge Deborah, a valiant woman leader of Israel and of Jael who did away with the enemy lieutenant general in a way that would've at bare minimum taken some bravery, right? You’re sneaking up on a man of war as he sleeps with a tent peg and a hammer and…and yeah you drive the tent peg with the hammer into the head of Sisera, the general and, of course, he dies doing away with the military leader who has been oppressing the children of Israel in their land for a couple of decades, which is powerful imagery. I mean going back into that time, it is an entirely patriarchal world. So, seeing Deborah and Jael once again shows God pulling people forward, pulling...pulling them forward even as they're doing everything they can to fight against Him and His will and ways for them.

We move into the gospel of Luke and we’re moving back into the passion narrative and we find Jesus in intense agony of prayer in the garden of Gethsemane. And even though we have just passed through Easter and have just kinda lived out this story it comes at a good time. It's easy for us to get through Easter and just kind of move on. We've focused our energy and efforts on the passion narrative and then we just kinda move on. It's nice to encounter it again and let it sink more deeply into our souls, what it cost, what it cost for us to take for granted, our freedom's.

Then we get into the book of Proverbs and we hear these words, “where there are no oxen the manger is clean, but abundant crops come by the strength of the ox.” So, if the manger weren't clean because the ox was there, how would the ox have made the manger dirty. It would've made manger dirty by just being itself right and just doing whatever it did, including pooping and peeing all over the place. It has to be cleaned up to keep the barn clean. So, the barn will stay clean without the animals, but the abundant crops won't come without the strength of the animals. So, you have to maintain the animals in the barn in order to have the strength to have the abundant crops. And this, like most of the Proverbs, simply imitates our lives. The proverb wasn't written to give us an agricultural lesson. We can kind of deduce that if you’ve got an ox in a barn and you’re not to clean up the barn then the barn's gonna be disgusting, but in our lives in community things can indeed get messy at times and they need to be maintained and cleaned up, but the strength that we have together is vastly superior than the strength that we have isolated and alone. And if we want an abundant harvest for the kingdom, then we’re going to have to learn to clean up after ourselves and even clean up each other's messes. It's gonna get messy. And I think that we can probably even as the body of Christ to deal with the mess if we could get over who we’re going to blame for the mess. And the best possible way that we can do that is to realize that we are all a mess, but together we are strong.

Prayer:

Father, we invite You into that. We work so hard to not look messy. We work so hard to disguise the truth of the fact that we’re all going through the same life at the same time on planet Earth with all of the same challenges and some of us are more challenged than others in certain areas, but we’re all challenged and we’re all struggling and we’re all learning that we are utterly dependent upon You and the faster that we can learn the faster that we can just deal with the mass and we can just clean the barn and we can maintain it and then we can have an abundant harvest for Your kingdom once we get out of our own way and out of Your way. So, come Holy Spirit. Help us to be patient. Help us to offer grace today. Help us to reveal Your kingdom today and be mindful of the fact that's what we’re doing with every thought, word and deed in our lives. Come Jesus we pray. In Your mighty name we ask. Amen.

Announcements:

dailyaudiobible.com is the website, its home base, its where you find out what’s going on around here. So, be sure to stay tuned and stay connected in any way that you can or that you want too.

Check out the Community section of the website. That gives you all the links to stay connected. Check out the Prayer Wall. That is wonderful place to stay connected as well. All of this is available in the Daily Audio Bible app, as well as the website. So, check it out.

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And, as always, if you have a prayer request or comment 877-942-4253 is the number to dial.

And that is it for today. I’m Brian I love you and I'll be waiting for you here tomorrow.

Community Prayer and Praise:

Hello everyone, this is Kiki in Arizona, it’s a beautiful night out here. And what I’d like to say is that I have a praise. My husband is doing better with his broken hip. He’s in his second rehab. Hopefully he’ll be home in two weeks, we’re not sure. But I really wanted to call in and say is that Brian, I just love this Daily Audio Bible. I’m in my fourth month of listening to you and I have never heard a pastor as good as what you have told us. I’ve never heard the it read the way you read it. I’m learning so much. All the years I went to Sunday school and church I have never been so intrigued with the Bible. I can’t believe how much I’m listening and learning and remembering every day and I want to say thank you so, so much for all that you have done in this four short months for me. A Gentlemen the other night said, “your commentary”. And I was trying to figure out what was the word to use about what you say after the readings and commentary I think was the right word. Your commentary on Good Friday after the readings was spot on for me. I thought of how you said it’s such a solemn day on Good Friday and how would we have felt the day that Jesus was crucified and how we have taken that ourselves. It would’ve been terrible. It still is terrible to think about it. And I saw the movie of the crucifixion on __ and I watched that. And tomorrow will be a great day. Tomorrow will be Easter Sunday and He has risen and I thank you, thank you, thank you. Everybody out there, thank you for all the prayers. So, I just want to end it before it ends me. So, thank everybody and happy Easter.

Hello, my DAB family this is Mark Street from Sydney Australia. Today is Resurrection day, Sunday the 21st of April. Family, I’m just ringing in because unfortunately the devil has got to me today and I’m really, really, really angry with myself. My exes new husband pushed my buttons about things that I was not doing. Just to cut a long…I’m not gonna say he said, she said, but at the end of the day I did the wrong thing. I lost my temper totally and just screamed at him and I’m so angry with myself. Of all the days when Christ told us to __ through words I can’t __ words and...ahhhh…just so angry with myself. This Lenten season I’ve been so good and this last day…ahh…please pray for me that God will turn this evil situation where I lost it into something good and I can come out the other end a better person. I’m just so disappointed in myself as well. Thank you, family. Bye.

Hi all this is the Misfit Man from Cincinnati. Just calling in today to give some encouragement to Johnny from Colorado. I just wanted to let you know that we are definitely lifting up Nick in prayer and I just wanted to encourage you to never stop reaching out to this community and never stop praying, lifting your friends up in prayer, and lifting everything up in prayer to God and that this, this is the church. And my pastor has a saying. He says, “there’s nothing like the church when it’s working right.” And this Daily Audio Bible community is the church working right because the church is not one, two, three buildings in your town or however many, you know, brick and mortar things there are with the name “church” on it. The church is all of us, every believer in Christ in the entire universe coming together, lifting each other up, holding each other accountable, being there for each other when we’re down and praising with us and rejoicing with us when we’re having great times. So, just never forget that. No matter what happens in your life, reach out to the people around you, be in community weather it’s over the phone calls here or face-to-face just, never lose that. There’s going to be discouraging times in your life when things don’t make sense but just remember in those times that there is one thing that makes sense and that’s Jesus. And to reach out to him and to all of us who are also trying to follow him. So, love you brother. Keep up the good work man. All right. Bye.

Good morning Daily Audio Bible family, this is Julie calling for Lisa. Lisa I am virtually holding my hand out to you right now in response to your call. I am praying to our Father to heal your husband’s cancer and give him strength and you as well. And I’m praying so very hard for you right now, that the Lord heal your illness, your problems and let you breathe well. I’m praying this very hard. And Lisa I want you to take your hand and put it in your heart and say, “keep the faith” and then reach it out into the sky and make a fist and pull it in and say, “grab the grace.” And I want to keep the faith and want you to grab that grace because it’s yours and I want to breathe easy. Lord, please watch over Lisa and help her. Lord please dry her tears and make her smile and give her strength. For this I pray. Amen. Have a good day.

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kingstonjael · 7 years ago

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“Last Night I Almost Let Him Murder My Soul (The Accomplice Edition)” THE CRIME AND THE CONVICTION (Kingston enters the room): Tear drops. A tear dropped and all of a sudden I was falling apart. My murderer had just exited the room and I was now bawling. He is possibly my one and only love and so far the greatest love I have ever known. While in the same room with him...I held my own. You see...I never let him see me cry. But once he walks out...the tears drop and my secret is now exposed. Strong independent fierce me is scared of losing a man...just this one man. A man whose feelings for me are dead upon arrival. Hardly anyone knows my secret for I could always keep a man for a very long time. I am beautiful and successful yet one of the few things society notices about me is how long I can keep a man! They piss on my degrees and shit on my career but oh that Kingston would not be that memorable if she could not keep a man! As the years go on, the whispers get louder. She can keep them but boy she can’t get them to close the deal! No one really listens to me when I say that I never wanted to be married nor have children. No one pays attention to the fact that I have had many suitors that wanted to spend their lives with me. All society cares about is the fact that I am now an unmarried woman of a certain age with no children. Barren...they call me behind my back. BARREN! As in nothing grows there! No one knows for certain if this is true...least of all me yet the whispers haunt me to the point where I start to believe their lies. A woman ain’t shit without a man who claims her...they say. I stand there frozen with my degrees in one hand and my career in the other. Puzzled. Essentially made to feel barren. I sure can keep a man but I can’t get him to worship me. I cannot get him to stop seeing my strengths as weaknesses. Make your man feel like a man...they say. If I cannot do this then I am a failure. Then the next stage of torture begins. MOVE ON...they say. Find a man who can commit and give you children...they all chant. Never asking if my womb is even open to interpretation. My interpretation. They make my love fluid as if it can transfer to any penis ready to commit. Never mind that there is something about him that made me stay. Never thinking for a second that my mind, body, and soul are not for sale. I am not livestock for men. I belong to me!!!! I am still the master of my own destiny. I am still KINGSTON JAEL FIRST OF HER NAME, QUEEN OF HERSELF FROM THE ISLAND OF JAMAICA, AND OF THE HOUSE OF MICHAELS. I am a queen. In my heart, I have always known this. Why then would I allow society to question my every move and allow him to attempt to murder my soul? Why would a fiercely independent woman do this? I went to a party once and they were serving something called Kool-Aid. Many had grown up drinking it but it was never served in my home. Instantly, I did not like the look of it but everyone else was happily drinking it. Who wants to be left out? No one. So I sip...but am careful to not gulp it like others around me. The Kool-Aid has the taste of desperation, loneliness, and complacency. Yet I continue to sip. Making a face I think...maybe it is an acquired taste? Maybe I will get use to it? Finally I start to feel sick and I stop sipping. He is standing over me now and I can feel the tears in my throat. Kingston, be strong....I think. Demand your worth! And if he walks out and never comes back...your life will be full no matter what. There will be love...maybe not romantic love...but the strongest love of them all...SELF LOVE! You can walk with your head held high and not have to worry every moment of the day that his emotionally unavailable self will abandon you! You can decide to not be part of the flock that blindly follows the shepherd. You can dare to be different. You can ask for your worth AND more...just like a man would do...while maintaining your womanly strengths. You can be unapologetically brilliant in a room filled with people. You can stand alone. It would be misleading of me to not point out how terrifying this all is. Who will stay with me as I age? Who will remind me that I am great and perfectly made on the days I doubt myself? Who will leave the singles pity parties behind and join me on my island of one? Who will bravely step forward and remind me that it was his loss...not mine....if he does not return with a brand new attitude....one of gratitude, love, and respect? Who will laugh with me? Who will cry with me? Who will help me celebrate my strengths? He exits the room and I start to cry. Not one of those begging my lover to come back to me cries....but one of those cries of exhales. I am breathing. Exhaling. Crying. I am standing up. I am throwing the fucking Kool-Aid down the sink. I am exhaling again...this time effortlessly. And now I’m dialing the number of the one person in the world that understands my struggles the most. I am calling for reinforcement. I am calling Harmony. And I am now sipping a glass of moscato wine. I was never meant to drink the Kool-Aid. I am wine...getting better with age. THE EXPUNGEMENT (Harmony enters the room): WOMEN So there's a saying behind every great man is a strong woman but there is no saying about who stands behind that strong woman. I think it is her girlfriends. It is the people she surrounds herself with. It is the people who tells her she can when she thinks she can't. It is the people who tell her she's beautiful when all she sees is ugly when she looks in the mirror. It is all the people who still believe in her when she cannot or does not believe in herself. Strong fiercely independent women have a struggle. It is a secret many do not want to talk about. In this secret dungeon...they seek love, acceptance, companionship, and sometimes maybe even something more than that (that is if she is daring enough to ask for what she is truly worth and more).... but they're so busy giving away all of themselves that sometimes they forget about self care. If more women took the time to love, support, hold up one another, celebrate each other's accomplishments, and compliment a stranger (who is really her sister in this struggle) on ANYTHING about herself...we could exhale beautifully together. In this exhale lies encouraging words that maybe no one has told her today or in her entire life...that TOGETHER WE MAKE EACH OTHER BETTER! Maybe she...we...really need to hear that. It is so hard to be a successful woman especially when you are a party of one! No partner in sight. No partner to make society feel comfortable about her “successful” existence. If a woman does not have the validation of a partner...she becomes an unwanted invisible being or comic relief for other women who sold their souls to be men’s livestock and are now secretly regretting it! I know this for I live it everyday. People look at me like I have failed in some kind of way. My education...my degrees that hang on the wall somehow make me less than...because I don't have a husband...AND I don't have a child. But I don't want either one of those things. I want the man who will love me, support me, and appreciate the fact that I went to professional school and EARNED my degree. I, HARMONY FIRST OF HER NAME, QUEEN OF HER LIFE, OF THE HOUSE OF HER FAMILY, EARNED HER DEGREES AND CAREER WITHOUT HIS NAME! That is my family's legacy...not his. This is the only man that I can love...one who loves me for who I truly am. I will accept nothing less. The lucky man who gets me needs to be 700 kinds of shades of special because I am not willing to settle. I would rather be alone. There! I said it! The thing that single women are not suppose to utter. I let my secret out. The secret that I would rather never have known the intimacies of that kind of true relationship than to give up any part of myself to have a relationship that is less than what my soul desires. Hell...my soul demands it! The thought has crossed my mind that this man may not exist...for me. And then what?! I have finally accepted that one day I may join the masses and succumb to the misconceived notion that a woman is nothing without a husband. I will drink the Kool-Aid and join lost women everywhere...drowning in the notion that I cannot be great by my fucking self! I hope that day never comes...for any of us...my fellow strong independent women. But right now my story continues. Bravely. Wrapped in self love and self care. However, this journey is not without its challenges. Currently, I am into someone. I like him a lot...more than any other person I have liked in a long time and he is scared of being hurt! I don't know what to do about that. I have made myself vulnerable. I have put myself out there with respect to my feelings for him. And I think that scares him. I have told him I am complicated. He has told me he likes that about me. I have told him I am into him...and every time I feel like we are making progress... he pulls away. I don't want to scare him. Hell the feelings I have for him scare the shit out of me. But I am strong enough to stay any course without sacrificing myself like a lamb. I don't know how to reassure him that I don't intend to hurt him. Yet I am so frustrated that I have to be held accountable for his heart and mine! While I don't have a lot of experience in relationships, I know I am strong, fierce, and independent enough to weather any storm of love. I will not blow away at the first sign of a strong wind. Hell a tornado could come and if the love is that supportive...that honest...that raw...that true...and that passionate...I promise you I will be the last woman standing! Stand I will...without compromising the qualities I love about myself...for I do not know how to do it any other way. I am not the girl who will play dumb to make any man feel better. In fact, I am the girl who will throw my education, my vocabulary, and my degrees right in your face. If he is man enough...he will catch them and fucking celebrate my achievements for it is nothing less than what I would do for him. I will not be his cheerleader while he stands in my bleachers dismissively....weakened by my inner and outer beauty while a storm brews around us. He must be wise and caring enough to cheer me on too! Am I being unreasonable here? Society whispers YES but my gut tells me NO. My instincts tell me that I am worthy of all of these beautiful things. And what if I do not receive them? Well this may mean that I am single forever. I am OK with that but my parents are not. I'm struggling to find the balance between what I want and need. I don't want my parents to worry about my ability to survive without them, but I need them to appreciate that I am not going to settle. I do not want the lives they created for themselves. I want to do better! And I have always fucking hated Kool-Aid that others have already drank. I would rather be a cold can of Bud Light ...popped open for the first time, quenching the thirst of only one man...the only man that was deserving of me. ~KJM and Harmony on Charm School Monday. As long as I have friends like Harmony, I will be okay no matter what happens with the Ex Factor for he is not the main source of my happiness and I will no longer allow him to be the main source of my unhappiness. My love is real and it is raw. I am not one of those women who will settle just for a man that wants me. I choose who is deserving of me and I will put a foot so high up his ass if he ever starts slipping. Society takes a man’s love so seriously (for he is not suppose to fall in love all the time) yet makes a woman’s love so fluid...like that love can transfer to any man ready to commit with a good resume! This is simply not true for strong women. We love who we love and no matter what happens he cannot destroy us for our source of happiness, strength, power, and intelligence never came from him. Self love and sisterhood are what it is all about! To my sisters in the struggle, may we continue to support each other no matter the storms that come. Harmony you are beautiful and you are intelligent! No matter what happens with this new guy...I’m here for you! Together...we are unstoppable. One love 💜

#mondaymorning #monday thoughts #charm school #bone thugs n harmony #beautiful women #woman #selflove #self care #self esteem #strong girls #strong black woman #strong women #blackgirlswhoblog #independent

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no6secretsanta · 7 years ago

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A traveller's heart

This fanfic is my gift for… *drum roll* @norwayplaystheviolin !!! I feel like my writing skills got rusty after a year of writing only academic stuff for work, but I wrote this with lots of love. I wanted to approach the characters from a different perspective so I placed them on a different scenario than what it’s usually the standard for No.6. I don’t know if I really succeeded but, regardless, I hope you like it!

Merry Christmas!

~@aoicanvas

***

The light filtering through the closed curtains wakes him up. He stretches, gets up and starts getting ready to leave for work.

***

Shion wakes up early, as usual. Out of habit, he opens the window. Even when he’s far from home, he feels uneasy if he doesn’t do it. Shaking his head as some sort of measure to get rid of his thoughts, he goes to fetch some clean and comfortable clothes from his suitcase. There’re a lot of places to see, people to meet, things to learn.

***

Almost everyone is already there when he walks the stairs up to the stage. They are sitting on the floor, chatting.

He joins them for a while. They still have time.

***

Shion covers his eyes with one hand to protect them from the sun. If he’s not mistaken, on the opposite street corner he can make out the shape of what should be the city teather. The building is truly beautiful. He wonders if that’s how they used to look, in the old ages.

There’s someone waiting for him at the reception. He’s warmly welcomed and taken to one of the owners’ office.

***

“And now again, / within that square of darkness, look! a light, / that feels its way with hesitating pulse, / as we do, through the darkness that it drives / to blacken into deeper night beyond.”

“In which could we follow that light’s example, / as might some English Bardolph with his nose, / we might defy the sunset—Hark, a chain!”

***

Elias is kind enough to offer Shion a tour. He’s young, jovial and full of good ideas. If the theater has always been in the hands of people like him, then its success is no wonder.

“Would you like to see the stage? I don’t have much time left now because I have a meeting soon but I don’t want you to leave before seeing it. It’s really something else.”

Shion smiles at his enthusiasm.

“I’d love to”.

“Are you sure you can’t stay for, say, another week? We have the opening night for the new play one of our crews has been working on on friday night. It’s going to be amazing”.

Shion shakes his head. He has to go back to No.6 early the next morning because a project he’s been an important part of is coming to and end and he can’t leave it unattended for too long.

***

“But… are you sure, Nezumi?”

“Yes, Miram, I am”.

“Ugh. I must’ve confused it with a different scene again, then. Can you start from… ‘once more, you savage heavens’”?

***

When they get to where the stage is, Shion is awestruck. The place looks like it was taken out from an old classic tale, even when only the stage lights are on. They start walking towards it.

“Are they rehearsing?” Shion asks quietly, looking at the actors on the scene. “Won’t they mind that we’re here?”

“Not at all”, says Elias. “They can deal with all kind of distractions, I assure you. Besides, since you’re not staying to see the play, I can’t let you leave without at least seeing this stage up close. Come on”.

***

“Once more, you savage heavens, I ask of you— / I, looking up to those relentless eyes / that, now the greater lamp is gone below, / begin to muster in the listening skies; / in all the shining circuits you have gone / about this theatre of human woe, / what greater sorrow have you gazed upon / than down this narrow chink you witness still—”

“Elias! Did you come to see the final rehearsal? We can start again if you’d like.”

Nezumi sighs. He had heard the footsteps, but he hadn’t bothered stopping since Elias never interrupted them in the middle of a scene. Evan, of course, was a different story. Brilliant actor, but painfully oblivious sometimes.

“I was almost done with that line, Evan—” he starts, begins to turn around and then…

“…and which, did you yourselves not fore-devise, / you registered for others to fulfil.”

A mirage.

***

Shion sees the light reflecting on his eyes and surprises himself with his ability to breathe easily and smile. He can hear Elias saying something to him, but he fails at making out the words even when they’re standing right next to each other.

“I’m sorry, what did you say?” he asks, forcing himself to look at Elias.

“Oh, I was just wondering if you knew this play? You just quoted it by heart, didn’t you?”

“Ah, yes. I’m a bit of a bookworm”.

***

Nezumi notices he’s frozen in place. Elias is introducing Shion, who bows respectfully and smiles at everyone. He locks his eyes with Nezumi’s for a couple of seconds and he swears he can hear his own heartbeat.

“Well, we won’t take any more of your time. Thank you for hard work, everyone”.

He hears Elias’s words distantly and sees them leave, feeling that his perception of time got ruined the moment Evan interrupted his dialogue.

A voice in his head protests:

“…ezumi? Nezumi? Hey, are you okay?”

He turns. Jael is looking up at him with a worried expression on her face. He spaced out, and judging by the look on the other actors’ faces, they all noticed.

“You look pale, man”.

“And that’s a lot to say, considering how white your skin is.”

He wants to explain. A half-truth, a half-lie, doesn’t matter, but his body is moving before he can say anything.

“I’m sorry, I have to go”.

***

Shion stands outside the theater, right by the main entrance. He looks down at his shaking hands and knows, with undeniable clarity, that he has to go back inside and…

And say something.

Do something.

He has wanted this for so long. Seven years. Seven years and he never thought this is how it would happen.

***

Nezumi knows there’s no way he’ll miss them since he stormed out of the stage just a couple of minutes after they left but, can he really be certain?

Can he really know for sure?

He walks quickly and reaches for the door, opens it with more force than necessary and there he is. He taking deeps breaths, face covered with both hands, shoulders tense.

Nezumi doesn’t stop to think; he walks up to him and grabs one of his wrists, gently.

“Shion”.

***

He freezes. There’s not much he could do to dtop his arms from falling to his sides. Nezumi lets go of wrists and just looks at him.

“Nezumi”.

He smiles.

***

Nezumi manages to smile back. Shion looks slightly different; he let his hair grow and now has it fixed it on a small ponytail. His clever gaze stays locked on his with a disarming clarity.

“You look well”, he says, feeling the forgotten urge to raise his hand and pet his soft white hair.

“I… thank you”. His voice doesn’t shake, but his gaze wavers. He looks away, and then back at him. “Do you live here?”

It’s a simple question, but Nezumi knows better. Shion is asking if he has made of this city his home.

If he’s there to stay.

“That’s a tricky question, Shion,” he observes.

Shion smiles at him.

There’s sadness in that smile.

“You caught me”.

It’s his turn to look away now.

“I have to go back to the rehearsal now—”

“Of course. You should go, I—

“…but I have time later. Tonight. Do you?”

“What?”

“Do you have time later, Shion?”

***

There’s a figure standing still under a lampost. Nezumi sees him tilting his head back and letting out a long exhale, hands on his pockets. The cold night breeze messes up his white hair.

“Shion”, he calls, once he’s certain he will be heard.

Shion startles before turning around. There’s surprise in his eyes. He wasn’t expecting him to turn up, not really. Then, there’s a small laugh, and it’s not one he can remember hearing from him before.

***

They walk side by side, until they reach a small coffee shop on a street corner and take one of the tables outside. On the other sidewalk, someone plays a violin and a small crowd forms a circle around them to listen. People walk on the street, enjoy drinks and food and gather together just as they would if it was the middle of the day.

A waiter comes to take their order before they can really start talking but soon enough they find themselves alone again.

Shion realizes he doesn’t know what to say. And he knows why, he knows—

But he is not going to voice it. Not yet, anyway.

So he goes for a safe topic. No.4. The city of the lights, as they call it.

***

Shion seems genuinely interested in the city life. He then asks about his job, how and when he started working at the theater, what kind of people the other actors are. He throws one question after another, there’s no pause after Nezumi’s answers, no time for him to think or to notice what’s going on. But in the back of his head he does. Shion is avoiding something and his instinct is to stop him right there and confront him about it. But he doesn’t. Not this time. Not after seven years apart.

So he speaks, tells Shion all the stories he wants to hear. Tells him about his travels, the people he has meet, the places he has seen. It’s not enough time to cover it all, of course, but there’s no hurry.

Or, at least, that’s what he wants to believe.

***

Shion tries to smother his laughter and fails immediately.

“You said you wouldn’t laugh. Liar”, Nezumi complains, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I couldn’t help it”. He takes a deep breath and looks up. Nezumi is smiling at him. Suddenly open and honest.

***

“Shion—”

“I think I should go”.

Nezumi looks mildly confused.

“What?”

“I should go, Nezumi”, he stands, takes what he thinks is more than enough to pay for both of their orders from his wallet, and leaves it on the table. “I’m sorry. I’m going back to No.6 tomorrow morning. I need to back to the hotel and start packing now so I can get some sleep”.

Nezumi is silent for a while. Then he stands and takes one step to his side.

“I’m walking you to back to your hotel, then”.

***

As they walk in silence, Nezumi knows, with painful clarity, that he doesn’t want Shion to go. It’s been a long, long time and now that he has let down some of the walls he put up around himself to hide from the world, he can admit that he has never once stopped missing him.

He has never once stopped longing for him. In his heart, he has always been a traveller, but there was always a part of him wondering, asking, when will it be enough? when will you accept that you have seen enough and that the only thing that would make you feel whole now would be to go back to orbit around the stationary star you left behind?

And every time, he found the right excuse. Maybe No.4 was another one of those. Maybe that explained the loud, fast beating of his heart.

“Shion”. He stops walking. Shion turns towards him and waits. But he must know. “Why are you in such a hurry to leave?”

“I told you, I have to…”

“No, Shion. I know that. I understand that. But that was this morning, before you saw me. Now you know I am here, and now there’s something else.” He smiles and, again, resists the urge to reach out and touch Shion’s hair. “Don’t deny it, I still can read you like an open book.”

Shion smiles back at him and sighs. Look down.

“Okay. Yes, you’re right, Nezumi. I… Look, I’ve never stopped waiting for you. I’m not trying to—it’s not. It’s just how it is.”

“I know.”

And he does. This is not a guilt-tripping attempt. It’s just a fact. One he has always been aware of.

Shion breathes in.

“But I never expected… this. This is… I’m so glad, Nezumi, I—” he stops suddenly and smiles at him. It doesn’t reach his eyes. “I’m so glad to be here right now, with you. But this matter has never been in my hands. It has always been your choice, to come back whenever you felt it was right or to stay away for good. But this… if this is not what you wanted, not what you planned, then I don’t want to force it. Because if I stay or if you follow me it would be out of compromise, wouldn’t it? And it would feel like the normal thing to do after so many years without seeing each other, right?” He pauses, shakes his head. Nezumi feels his throat is clogged with unspoken words. “I don’t want to be a ghost from the past that came back to make you look at all those memories you hadn’t made the choice to confront yet. And that’s how I feel right now.”

Nezumi knows he’s right.

But he also knows he’s wrong.

The problem is, he doesn’t have the words to explain that yet. Not to himself, not to Shion.

“I won’t stop you if you want to go”, he says instead, “but you should know that I would like you to stay”.

Shion lets out a shaky breath and laughs softly.

“You know, when you left No.6, I promised myself I would never let you go again if you came back. I didn’t make a promise for this kind of situation but, still, it feels like I’m betraying my younger self”.

Nezumi feigns an affected sigh.

“You never learn, do you, stubborn child. Did you really make that promise?”

Shion doesn’t miss a beat.

“Yes. And I wouldn’t take it back”. He tries to look more cheerful and gifts Nezumi with an open, beautiful smile. “So now you know; think carefully before going back, because I’m determined”.

“I’m very thankful for the warning”.

“You’re welcome”.

***

Shion closes the door behind him and doesn’t bother turning the lights on. He needs to pack, that much is true, but his body feels numb and he feels the sudden urge to cry.

He never thought he would be strong enough to walk away from Nezumi. He never thought the circumstances would present themselves in such a way he wouldn’t have any other choice. Because what he had said was true: he felt like ghost. So he had decided to be a ghost and leave no trace of his stay.

There wasn’t a goodbye kiss this time.

Not even a hug.

He gives up and lets the tears fall. It’s going to be a long night.

***

“Hey! You were brilliant again!”

Nezumi smiles at Jael as he goes about picking his stuff.

“You were brilliant too”.

“And finally, the season’s over!” Evan lets himself fall on an old couch. “We have to celebrate, guys, please. And this time, Javier, you have go”.

“No. I pass.”

“Ohhh, come on! You missed the celebration after the opening night, you can’t miss it now! It was the last one!”

Javier shrugs.

“What can I say, I’m a busy person”.

“What about you, Nezumi? You’ll join us, right? All the others are going, man, you can’t miss it”.

“I’m sorry, Evan. I’m leaving today”.

“Uh? What?”

“You didn’t know?” Jael looks surprised and then looks at Nezumi accusingly. “You didn’t tell him?”

“He told everyone”, Javier says, “even Marina knows, and she’s the most oblivious of all of us”.

“That’s true”, Marina agrees.

“Okay, okay, so I’m the only one who doesn’t know whatever is going on, I got that, but I still don’t know what’s the thing that’s going so, care to explain?”

Nezumi hides a smile. He’s going to miss his colleagues. Even if they can be a pain sometimes. Like Evan.

“I’m leaving the city, Evan. I’m moving to No.6”.

***

The van engine starts and he doesn’t feel a single cell of his being rebel against his decision. The driver makes small talk with the couple on the front seats.

“…we never thought we would leave No.4 but, sometimes, you have to take risks”, the woman says, resting her head on the man’s shoulder.

“Wise words, couldn’t have said it better”. The driver smiles and looks at Nezumi through the rear-view mirror. “What about you, friend? Why are you going to No.6?”

Nezumi is certain of the answer now. He looks at the clear sky and wonders if he’ll be lucky enough to arrive with a storm. Shion would certainly love that.

“Because it’s home”, he answers.

Miles away, someone is waiting for him.

Someone who’s not planning on letting him go.

Now he can say that it doesn’t scare him. On the contrary, it’s exactly what his heart wants.

#no.6 #no. 6 #no6 #nezushi #aoicanvas #norwayplaystheviolin #submission

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femmedplume · 8 years ago

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POST THE LAST LINES FROM 5 OF YOUR FINISHED WORKS OR WIPs.

tagged by @conjurewithrisk (thanks! :D)

ONE

“They are loyal to me,” Yazi choked.

“Then call them. But first, tell me…who is there to manage the burial rights for you, hmm? Wouldn’t want your spirit roaming the netherworld for eternity, now would we?” His eyes gleamed black in the light of the dying sun.

Yazi went limp. “Forgive me.”

“I can barely hear you, flower,” He growled. “What did you say?”

“Forgive me, master. I – I will send the letter tomorrow.”

“Tonight.”

She closed her eyes. “Yes.”

His fingers flexed, loosened. “You know I do this for you, don’t you? So that you might be queen.”

“Yes,” she whispered.

“I do this,” caressing her neck with one iron-hard finger, “out of my great love for you. Don’t you understand that?”

“Y-yes.”

He pressed a brutal kiss to her lips before releasing her. “There’s my girl.”

Yazi curled up in a ball at his feet, trying to press the misery from her stomach and breathe the pain out of her throat.

- Lady of Khaneya, a high fantasy novel set in an AE African empire. (We’re deep in the throes of twisty-turny, magi-political drama, so don’t take the darkness of this section as indicative of the entire story!)

TWO

The moonlight returned. The wind eased through the window once more.

Still gasping in pain, Pen thrust the long, red thorn triumphantly into the cautious moonlight and the relieved wind, and said three words in the language of ______, which are untranslatable –

– but I will try.

BLOOD OF THE WITCH. SACRIFICE OF THE KNOWING. IMPLEMENT OF CHANGE, said L’Femme d’Plume.

Sangre de Plume, whispered the Pink Pearl rosebush in awe.

“A Blood Pen,” Pen agreed in a trembling voice. “With seven spells in its gift.”

No one has dared create a Blood Pen since the old gods went beyond the Rim of the World, the Pink Pearl said.

“No,” Pen said. “But I dare. Because I must, or I will lose more than myself. And the first spell must be tonight.”

Suiting words to action, Pen took the bloody thorn and wrote across the lintel of the door, around the frame of the window, and in each corner of the room. And then, tired from her exertions, she went to bed; but not before hiding the Blood Pen deep within the twists of her bedframe.

And this is what she wrote, in words that glowed with the fire of deepest magic:

LET NOTHING BROUGHT TO THIS ROOM LEAVE IT WITHOUT MY CONSENT.

And that, dear reader, is how a prison becomes a trap.

- Onyx & Pen, a high fantasy story inspired by a writing prompt. This one’s a little more traditional fairytale, about a witch locked in a tower by the king she helped create. There’s also a heroic cat and a talking rosebush.

THREE

“Best day ever, Dad.” Dean passed the giant slinky he’d exchanged his tickets for from hand to hand. “It was awesome!”

“Awesome, huh?”

“Yeah, this kid at school always says that. It means real good and nice.”

“Does it?” John smiled. “Good to know.”

There was a long pause. “Daddy?”

“Hm?”

“You’re awesome.”

John could barely get the words out around the sudden lump in his throat. “Thank you, Dean. You’re awesome, too.”

And that’s why, years later, Dean always dropped Sam off at Plucky Pennywhistle’s whenever he needed some time away from babysitting –because kids love those places, right?

- Dean’s 6th Birthday, a brief SPN headcanon fic -- because when all your friends are fangirls, you’re not getting away without writing at least one.

FOUR

MAMA HEDDY How did we go from no crime at all to poisoning and murder?

KATE The Barrier. It’s supposed to keep bad influences out of Bellevue, but something’s wrong with it.

POP Can you fix it?

KATE Maybe, if I knew what was wrong. Speaking of wrong, how’s Bobby?

POP Seems fine. Maybe him waking up was just a fluke? Natural immunity?

They look over to where Lottie and Bobby sit whispering. To one side stands Junior, jealous at being excluded.

HARLAN I’m just glad everyone’s okay.

Around them, Bellevue gathers together; a loving community.

MAMA HEDDY We’re alive; don’t mean we’re okay.

KATE What do you mean?

Kids run and play, oblivious to the solemnity of the day. Wives comfort Mrs. Long, who cries and clutches a PHOTO of Sheriff Long. Husbands talk amongst themselves.

MAMA HEDDY Something’s in the air. Can’t you feel it? Darkness has come to Bellevue, child -- and I don’t know if we can stop it.

Kate looks around. The sun is shining. It’s a sad scene, but also normal. So blissfully normal.

For now.

FADE TO BLACK.

END OF EPISODE

- Southern Gothic, an urban fantasy television pilot set in rural Louisiana.

FIVE

Kilane stepped forward and placed a hand upon Kaya’s shoulder.

“This is far too much to take in at once.” He waved at the volumes of scrolls and tomes that surrounded them. “This archive contains the combined experiences of each Aliri-bonded Saint since the war began three thousand years ago. Take as much time as you need to read through them. Weigh their words. Confer with your Aliri. Consider carefully whether you might be willing to give yourself over to our great cause, for it is a dangerous and consuming one.”

“But you will never be alone.” Kafir smiled. “Your Aliri will always be with you.”

That is true. And perhaps--not quite as terrible a fate as I had originally thought, the demon admitted softly. Not quite.

Kilane nodded as though he could hear the demon’s thoughts. “Already you begin to bond, I think. What is her name?”

“Her?” Kaya was startled.

“Of course,” Kilane nodded. “They only seem to bond to one of like sex, so your Aliri must be female.”

“Oh. I--she hasn’t told me.”

P’toli, the demon said after a slightly embarrassed silence.

“P’toli,” Kaya repeated dutifully. She thought for a long moment about what they were offering her. To be a part of this brotherhood would be a dangerous thing. She would have to pull back even farther from her family and her old friends for fear they would learn this even greater secret.

But what about the rewards? P’toli asked softly. We could make a great difference, you and I; we could support the Balance together.

“This morning,” Kaya shook her head, “I was a daughter, a lover, and a friend. But I do not think I can be these things anymore. Not the way I was.” She took a deep, calming breath. “One truth: P’toli and I will be together forever. I cannot imagine living my life bound to someone, knowing I could help them to do the right thing and denying it. I will consider, and I will read first,” she said firmly. “But I think -- I think I could do it.”

And I think, P’toli said after a long pause, I might like to show you my world someday.

- When the Saints, a sci-fi novel I started years ago -- and might pick up again, who knows?

BONUS:

Inside was dim, lit only by the night-candle in the front window across the shop. Curiously, Whitepaw sniffed at the soft fabrics draped and swagged and standing in rolls about the room.

“Hello?” Said a slightly off-key, high-pitched mew. “Hel-looo?”

“Ah, here she comes,” said Greytom.

“Hello?” Descending from the staircase above came the owner of the sweet mewing, her dainty paws seeming scarcely to touch the floor. She peered about the room cautiously, but brightened when she saw them.

“Why, Greytom!” She trilled, still in that off-key tone. “What a lovely surprise.” Her long, silky plume of a tail stood straight up, tip bent in friendly welcome; in the relative dark, her cloud of white fur seemed to glow. She head-butted Greytom with great familiarity, winding herself sinuously along his flank while he tried, and failed, to keep his eyes from closing in pleasure.

Finally, Greytom stood and nudged her face towards the other cat. “Sweet one, this is Whitepaw, the Witch’s cat. Whitepaw, meet Snowfriend.”

“Oh!” Light from the rising moon caught in Snowfriend’s wide blue eyes, and Whitepaw understood; like many cats bred for their beauty, Snowfriend was deaf.

Fortunately, much of the language of cats was spoken through ear twitch, tail and body.

“You have a pleasant scent, Snowfriend,” Whitepaw offered her nose exaggeratedly.

“Oh, and you as well, dear Whitepaw!” Snowfriend touched noses, then proceeded to fuzz her body along Whitepaw’s with genteel enthusiasm. “I am simply honored. Imagine; a Witch’s cat in my couturier! Have you come to find a fabric for your human? I know Witches traditionally love green, but we have a truly fabulous soft-grey brocade that—“

Again, Greytom gently head-butted her until she turned around to face them. “Whitepaw’s Witch has been stolen by the king of Mans. She must go the Big Den to retrieve her.”

- Whitepaw and Cottontail, fantasy short story set in the same world as Onyx and Pen. It’s about cats. CATS.

tagging: @sammit-janet , @jael-paris , @huffleypuffelycas , @oriona75 , @rizlowwritessortof

#writing #high fantasy #fiction #woc writers #long post for ts #thanks for tagging me!#stitch answers a tag #stitch writes a thing #conjure and stitch #sammit and stitch #paris and stitch #twilight and stitch #ori and stitch #cowgirl and stitch

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inkandheart · 8 years ago

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Lady of Khaneya - Chapter 13, Part II

CHAPTER 13. FIRE

This installment is dedicated to my BFF @jael-paris on her BIRTHDAY! WOO-HOO! Have some angst, mah bean! ;D

TITLE: THE LADY OF KHANEYA

AUTHOR: HTTP://INKANDHEART.TUMBLR.COM/ (AKA STITCH/FEMMEDPLUME)

Word Count: 6063

Genre: Fantasy, Romance

SUMMARY: A fire at the camp of House Ng’ombe has devastating effects.

CHARACTERS: Lady Orian, Lady Latifya, Jaeger-Tau, Tevi, Brandt-Faran, Physica Vikka, Obin Onil, Lady Osumare Ng’ombe, Lady Yazi, Him

WARNINGS: Fire, death, brief abuse

“Hurry!” Orian all but screamed at her free-guard. When she’d realized that the smoke coming from across the lake couldn’t be anything but a disastrous fire, Orian had snapped into action -- because across the lake was Osumare’s encampment.

“They’re coming as quickly as they can,” Latifya admonished her. “Patience!”

“We have no time for patience,” Orian snapped back. “Osumare needs help now!”

“Lady Ng’ombe, please,” Tifya said. “And she’s Great Lady in her own right now; surely she can manage to help herself!”

Orian glared at her sister, then turned back to where the free-guard was assembling aid kits under the direction of Wise Mother Tiksi. “Wise Mother? Are we ready?”

Tifya sighed and shook her head. “Stubborn as a mule.”

The eldest Nekare sister was probably correct, so far as it went. Osumare had been House Ng’ombe’s Great Lady for almost two years now, and Ng’ombe kept its lands up on the plains north of Kinshasa where there was grazing for their cattle -- and wildfires regularly swept through the area. If anyone was prepared to deal with a sudden fire, it was House Ng’ombe.

But Osumare is my friend, Orian thought stubbornly. There is no way I leave her standing alone today.

Wise Mother Tiksi ran a critical eye over the packs the free-guard had assembled, then nodded. “This is enough to get started with, I think.”

“Good,” Orian nodded impatiently. “Let us go.”

“A moment, Great Daughter, if I may?”

Orian sighed. “Yes?”

“Split the guard,” the old woman advised. “Take half with you on the run, along with a message bird. The other half can charter a boat or two, and come across with any supplies you may discover a need for once you arrive.”

“Oh.” The young lady blinked. “Yes. Clever. Half of you, with me!” Orian raised her voice to address the free-guard. “The other half, attend on the Wise Mother; her words are mine.”

“Yes, Great Daughter!” The guard saluted.

Tiksi’s plan was implemented with a minimum of fuss; within five minutes, Orian, Latifya and half their guard were jogging down the path to the docks.

Tifya glanced back over her shoulder and frowned. “Are you certain bringing Tau was a prudent idea?”

“He was a soldier once,” Orian replied, saving her focus for the crowded path ahead. “Always a good plan to have trained men in an emergency.”

Tifya couldn’t argue with that without revealing the true nature of her fears about Tau and Orian spending time together, so she said nothing.

Behind them, Jaeger-Tau jogged along in time with the rest of the guard, carrying his own bundle of supplies. He had been caught off-guard when Orian had left the tent, nearly floating from the afterglow of pleasure he had given her, only to return wild-eyed and determined to rush headlong into possible disaster. He was still a trifle thrown by how quickly the entire camp had responded to her commands; up till now, he had thought Khanyan society put a higher premium on decorum than anything else. Khanyan nobles did not hurry.

But Orian did, when her friend was in trouble. He watched her make her nimble way through the crush of dockworkers, matched stride-for-stride by her sister Latifya, and shook his head in admiration.

“What is it?” Tevi asked.

“Nothing,” Jaeger-Tau said quickly, dodging a dockworker bent nearly double under a heavy sack of goods.

“I know that face, barbarian,” Tevi disagreed, leaping nimbly over a crate.

Jaeger-Tau rolled his eyes briefly. “Fine. I was admiring our ladies; I had no idea they were this athletic.”

“By ‘athletic’ you mean, capable of running?” Tevi grinned, a flash of white teeth. “Oh, the nobles can run when it suits them, but you’ll never hear them admit it. Running is a fit state only for peasants, you see.”

“In Allemagne, even the noble ladies were expected to be athletes.”

The Guard Second snorted. “Of course they were. Welcome to civilization, barbarian.”

Jaeger-Tau barked a laugh. “Thank you, but I think ‘civilization’ and her sister are outpacing us. Perhaps we should stop talking and run faster!” He put on a burst of speed just as they reached the end of the docks.

Tevi snorted and followed. The two men vaulted off the short end of the last stone pier and onto the sand, the Nekare free-guard tumbling hastily after them. After a few moments of breathless scrabble over loose-packed sand, Tevi and Jaeger-Tau led the group into the Ng’ombe camp--

--where they skidded to a halt behind their horrified ladies.

The camp was in shambles; not one fire, but several burned out of control, while terrified cattle ran this way and that, trampling people and buildings with equanimity.

Ever the first to take charge in a crisis, Latifya stepped forward, but Orian cut her off.

“Tevi, take five guards and deal with the cattle,” Orian commanded. “We won’t get anything calmed while they’re stampeding about like that. And don’t let them out into the water; I don’t know how many water tokens Osumare has left! Tifya, take the rest and search the camp for any injured; if there are medimagi here, I’m betting they’ve set up a triage behind the camp on that rise,” pointing. “If they haven’t yet, do so. Tau!”

He stepped to her side even as Latifya and the rest hurried to “Yes, mistress?”

“I need you to get everyone’s attention.” Unspoken between them was her newfound knowledge of his former commanding role in the Allemagnian army. Surely he had had some tactic to control a fighting battalion that would come in handy here?

“I know just the thing.” Jaeger-Tau scanned the area, noting a tumble of boulders at the bottom of the cliff marking the edge of the encampment. “There. Come with me.” He chose a boulder with a relatively flat top, just a little taller than he was. He scrambled atop it, then reached down and pulled Orian up beside him.

She looked down at the chaos uncertainly. “Now they can see us, for all the good that does.”

“Give me a moment.” He concentrated briefly, whispering a cantrip in Nors, and touched one large finger to his throat. Then he took a deep breath, and bellowed, “EVERYBODY CALM DOWN!”

His voice, amplified by the spell he’d used, rolled over the encampment like a deafening thunder, shocking everyone into silence -- even the cows.

He turned to Orian and, in a more normal voice, “May I?” She nodded, and he touched her throat briefly. “You don’t have to bellow like I did. Just speak clearly, they’ll hear you.”

Looking down at the crowd of frightened people, Orian had one brief moment of heart-jangling nerves -- would they listen to her? Should they? She hesitated.

Then Jaeger-Tau’s voice, similar to the terrifying bellow of a moment ago only in timbre, rumbled in her ear. “They need a leader, my lady. Just get them moving, and the rest will sort itself.”

Right. Get them moving. Orian took a deep breath, opened her mouth, and began issuing orders.

Brandt-Faran was briefly shaken out of his Healing trance when a voice that sounded exactly like Prince Jaeger’s parade bellow echoed over the camp.

“EVERYBODY CALM DOWN!”

“What was that?” Vikka yelped, pulling her hands away from Brandt-Faran and their patient, a young man whose legs had been crushed by trampling cattle.

“Um,” Brandt-Faran shook his head. It probably wasn’t Jaeger, anyway. “Sounds like someone’s trying to control the chaos out there. Physica, should we not--?”

Vikka blinked, refocused. “Of course, of course. Take a deep breath, and open yourself to me.”

Brandt-Faran took a calming breath and closed his eyes as he felt energy begin to flow from him to the Physica once more. As he sank back into the trance-like state which the Physica had shown him, insisting it was easier to access his energy if he was nearly somnolent, Brandt-Faran heard another voice echo out, giving orders to capture the rampaging cattle and help the wounded. But that voice was female, and nothing like Jaeger’s, so he put it out of his mind.

What would Jaeger be doing giving orders here, anyway?

“What about the fires?” Jaeger-Tau asked worriedly. “Won’t they spread?”

“Possibly, but until we can get the EMS out here, I don’t see how we can help that,” Orian replied.

“EMS?”

“Emergency Magical Services,” she explained. “Magi on-call for disasters during Satyrnalia.”

“Oh.” He blinked. “That’s helpful of them.”

“Well, a gathering this large, there’s bound to be some sort of disaster,” she sighed, rubbing her temple. “Let us hope they have a Water Elemental with them. And an Air Elemental to deal with the smoke; I worry more about the animals dying of inhalation.”

Jaeger-Tau brightened. “That’s it!” He leapt down from the boulder. “Stay here, mistress! I have an idea!”

“What is it? Tau!” She called, but he was gone, off into the fog.

Jaeger-Tau plunged into the smoke-filled chaos -- although it was already a bit calmer, as Tevi and his guards had organized the Ng’ombe herders. They had subdued the lead bull and were slowly herding the frightened cows into a makeshift enclosure of whatever wattle fencing hadn’t been trampled or burned. Other herders were using their crooks to pull down burning thatch from the roofs, shoveling sand over the pieces to kill the fire.

“Ho, Tevi!” Jaeger-Tau called.

“Ho, Tau!” Tevi called back from his place atop the lead bull. The Guard Second had attached a rope directly to the bull’s nose-ring, a brutally effective way of controlling the animal’s urge to trample. “What do you need?”

“Do they keep sylphs here?”

Tevi spoke briefly to one of the herders. “She says there’s a cage of them, but it’s in a building inside the fire-ring.” He coughed harshly. “Is the EMS coming? If the fire doesn’t kill us, the damn smoke will.”

“They should be here soon, but I think I can help with the smoke.” Jaeger-Tau unwound his aba and ran to the lake’s edge, plunging the fabric into the cool water. When it was soaked, he wrapped it around his head and shoulders, covering his mouth with the edge. Then, ignoring the shocked looks of the Khanyans, he ran past the outer rings of burning buildings.

Once past the first blast of fire, the Norseman paused for a moment to adjust to the fierce heat. Sweat poured down his face, and his lungs spasmed with every breath; even with his soaked aba, he wouldn’t last long. Fortunately, the buildings blocked some of the sound from the camp -- enough so that he could make out the high-pitched keening of sylphs in distress.

He followed the sound into the third building on his right, and found a floor-to-ceiling cage full of frantic sylphs; they redoubled their keening when they saw him.

“There now, calm yourselves,” he soothed them. “I’ve come to free you.”

The sylphs tinkled hopefully.

“But I must have a promise out of you first.” He paused, coughing as the smoke thickened.

The sylphs’ chiming sounded distrustful.

“Nothing bad,” he assured them. “Just fly free of the fire, then blow the smoke away over the lake so we can breathe again, and keep the fire from spreading to the back of the camp.”

The sylphs whistled amongst themselves. Some seemed willing, others reluctant.

Jaeger-Tau glanced over his shoulder, sweat stinging his eyes. Was the temperature rising?

“Please,” he coughed. He wasn’t going to leave them there to die either way -- but once they were free, if none of them stayed to help, House Ng’ombe might loose its entire herd! “Two flowers to each who stays to help!”

Now the sylphs chattered in agreement. Jaeger-Tau hurried to unlock the cage door; it took him a moment, as his were hands trembling from lack of oxygen. Finally, the door sprang free, and two-dozen sylphs blew past him and out the door of the hut, even as fire began to creep up the walls.

Jaeger-Tau stumbled out after them, coughing and gagging. Dizziness swept over him as he made his way back towards Tevi and the rest. He was so hot; his skin was burning, the aba long-since steamed dry.

I may have waited too long, he thought. He dropped to hands and knees, crawling towards the smoke-line. He was six horse-lengths away, he could make it.

Five horse-lengths. He coughed with every breath, his head exploding with pain.

Four horse-lengths. Sweat blurred his vision; he smelled the ends of his hair crackle and burn.

Three horse-lengths. He tried to call out for help, but he had no breath left. Slowly, he collapsed to the ground and rolled over on his back.

He had one brief glimpse of the bright blue slyph-glow hovering over his head before he passed out.

“Tevi?”

The Guard Second whirled. “Great Daughter, what are you doing? You need to stay back out of the smoke!”

“I will,” Orian promised, mouth covered by her aba. “But where is Tau? He came this way over ten minutes ago!”

Tevi cringed. “He went behind the fire-line.”

“What?” She shrieked. “And you let him?”

“I could not stop him! I think he -- wait! Look!” He pointed upward as dozens of bright blue lights zoomed up into the sky above the camp.

“Sylphs,” Lady Orian gasped. “That’s what he meant!” She peered into the smoke-laden air just as the tiny fae-creatures began to generate a strong breeze, blowing the smoke -- and the fire -- towards the lake.

“Clever,” Tevi nodded. “Sylphs aren’t strong enough to blow out the fire, but they can at least keep us all from dying of the smoke while we wait for the EMS magi.”

“Yes, but should not Tau have come out with them? Where is he?”

Tevi glanced at his mistress, surprised by the franticness of her tone. “He may have passed out before he could cross the fire-line again. Do not fear, mistress; we will find him.”

Lady Orian noticeably reigned in her emotions. “Of course you will. And look, here come the magi! Tevi, I leave you in charge of the rescue of -- all injured persons. I must go speak to the magi.”

“Yes, O Prudent and Conscientious.” He watched her hurry off to meet the coracle of people wearing the bright yellow of EMS magi that was just pulling onto the strand. Not that he wasn’t worried about Tau himself, of course--

--but since when did a Great One fret over the life of one slave?

“There!” Physica Vikka said with satisfaction, releasing her hold on their patient.

Brandt-Faran opened his eyes and smiled at the little girl, who a few minutes before had been writhing with pain from the burns she had sustained. Now they were healed to shiny, ridged scars and the pain was gone -- though if she wanted her hair to grow back or her skin smoothed she would require the services of a Sculptor. At this moment, she seemed happy enough to be free of pain.

“A thousand thanks, Great Physica,” the girl’s mother pressed Vikka’s hand to her forehead again and again. “I thought she would die.”

“I have done what I can,” Vikka demurred. “Physica Nede is a Sculptor who specializes in reforming injured bodies; her services are expensive, but I can recommend her work.”

“Thank you,” the mother nodded vigorously. “Physica Nede; I will remember. Come my baby, the Physica has many more patients to see.”

“Thank you, Physica,” the little girl said shyly as her mother led her away.

“I hope they go to the Sculptor,” Brandt-Faran murmured.

“They may not be able to afford it,” Vikka sighed. “At least she is not a boy, whose prospects hang on his beauty. She may still be wooed for her cattle and land. Ah, this is melancholy speculation. Come, honored Faran, we have work to do.”

Brandt-Faran nodded, stood up, and stumbled.

Vikka was instantly at his side. “Are you well? Are you feeling drained? Hungry? Light-headed?”

He shook his head; in fact, being an Anchor rather seemed to invigorate him. “My leg cramped from sitting in that position, that’s all. The only thing affecting me at the moment is the smoke.”

She nodded understandingly and pinched the bridge of her nose. “It does give one a headache, but there’s nothing we can do. We only have one sylph, and ‘tis at the end of its span, I’m afraid.”

Brandt-Faran glanced over at the sylph cage in the corner. The tiny thing did seem drained, but, “Wait a moment.” He left the medical tent and climbed a little ways up the hill behind it, to where some purple desert lilies bloomed.

“Here,” he said, pushing the flowers through the bars of the cage. The sylph glanced wearily up at him, but brightened when it saw the flowers.

“What are you doing?” Vikka asked curiously.

“Feeding it. Sylphs need more than sugar-water to survive for long. See?” He said after a few moments, as the invigorated little creature began to flap its wings more energetically, creating a fresh breeze for the tent.

“Astonishing. You barbarians are so close to nature,” Vikka smiled admiringly. “That will help all of us, I think.”

A tall Khanyan man with deep amber eyes, wearing a lion-crest tunic over his armor, pushed frantically into the tent. “Is there a Physica?”

“Here!” Vikka called, raising her arm.

“Thank the Healer,” the man sighed fervently, and leaned back out of the flap. “She’s here! Bring him in!”

Four large men entered, carrying a fifth man between them; a man whose tanned skin was burned a deep red in places, whose face and long, golden hair were streaked with soot.

“Jaeger?” Brandt-Faran blurted in shock.

The tall Khanyan glanced at him. “You know him?”

“Put him over here,” Vikka ordered, indicating a vacant space. The four men laid Jaeger-Tau down on the blanket Vikka indicated, then backed away. From her voluminous sleeves, the Physica produced a pair of sharp scissors, which she used to cut away the remains of the Norseman’s clothes.

“I need an obin,” she called into the air.

“Here!” It was Onil, the fresh-faced obin Brandt-Faran had met earlier; only now her clothes were damp with sweat and blood, her face tired and grim.

“Get his sandals off, would you?” Vikka ordered. “And bring me some water.”

Onil gulped. “Water? How much?”

“Half a gallon.”

“Half a gallon?” Onil gasped. “But how do we know he can afford--”

The tent flap parted again. “I will pay for it,” said a tall, golden-skinned woman with bright-water eyes.

Brandt-Faran stared, open-mouthed, at the woman for a moment. Hours in the medical tent had taught him many things, the most startling of which was that water was not considered a right here in the desert. Even with the lake so close, every cup of water was rationed by vouchers given out by the Royal Water Ministry. Who was this light-skinned Khanyan, that she could afford to spend half a gallon of water on a slave?

Jaeger-Tau floated in and out of consciousness. Images, voices, scents swirled about him, leaving a series of confused impressions.

A sylph floated above him, sending drafts of cool air over his burnt, parched lips and cheeks.

Tevi called his name. Orian called his name. Brandt called his name.

Rough hands dragged him over burning coals; he tried to fight back, but he couldn’t see, couldn’t breathe.

A sylph floated above him, chiming.

Fire burned, but it did not touch him.

Cool water, soft hands.

“I will pay for it.”

He woke to a plain canvas ceiling and the sounds of a hospital room. “Hello?” He croaked; his throat was drier than the sand under his back.

A face leaned over him, resolved itself into… “Brandt?”

“Shh,” Brandt-Faran whispered. “‘Tis Faran here. How are you feeling?”

“Dry,” he coughed.

Brandt-Faran withdrew from his sight for a moment, then returned with a wet cloth and a bare dipperful of water. “Drink carefully,” he cautioned. “I do not know if the Great One will be willing to pay for more than this.”

Jaeger-Tau lifted his head and eagerly slurped the tepid water down. “Thank you,” he sighed, laying down once more. “What are you doing here?”

“Anchoring for the Physica. Apparently,” he smiled briefly, “I have some small talent.”

“Oh. That is...wait. What do you mean, pay?”

“For the water,” Brandt-Faran explained. “They ration water here; did not you know?”

He hadn’t, actually. “Oh. Of course. Was the Great One a -- did she have turquoise eyes?”

“Yes.”

Jaeger-Tau sighed with relief. “That is Lady Orian of Nekare. Is she still here?”

“Ye-es,” Brandt-Faran said after a moment, “but I would wait if I were you. She’s speaking with another Great One.”

“Who?”

Brandt-Faran turned pale, worried eyes down to his friend. “I think she’s the one to whom this camp belongs. And -- I do not think she is long for this world.”

“Mare,” Orian whispered gently. “Mare, can you hear me?”

The woman before her opened cracked and blistered lids a mere slit. “Who--?”

“‘Tis Orian, my friend,” she supplied. “I came as soon as I saw the smoke. Can you tell me...what happened here?”

“Don’ know,” Osumare mumbled, her lips so swollen from her burns she could barely speak. “Was luncheon...fire…��sploshun...stuck t’me like oil…”

“The fire exploded?” Orian gasped. “How is that possible? I thought you only used mage-fire around the animals?”

“Do,” Osumare insisted painfully. “On’y mag-fur...impossbl’...caught me an’ herd-missrus...impossbl’!”

Orian’s blood ran cold. Though Mare’s speech was garbled, her sense was not; the woman obviously thought the fire had been some sort of sabotage.

Like the scorpions, or Wetelanja’s murder. Someone is coming after her, too!

Orian folder her hands between her knees to stop herself from touching Mare’s crisped skin as she leaned forward. “Mare, do you think someone planned this?”

Mare’s eyes opened wide, and she nodded twice.

“Oh, Merciful Mother.” Orian covered her eyes with her hands. “What is happening to us?”

Mare made a questioning sound.

“Yes, someone has been trying to sabotage me as well, but I cannot understand why! Neither you nor I were ever real challengers for the throne; why attack us? Especially two friendly Houses like ours, they must know we would speak and discover the connection.”

Mare grunted. “Don’...think I was...s’pose t’ survive...t’ tell,” she gasped. “Others...dead...I won’...live long.”

“Don’t say that,” Orian protested. We have a Physica right here, and we’ll get you the best Sculptors once you’re Healed!”

“Phys’ca...said...too mut’...damage,” Mare wheezed, then coughed -- a wracking, painful sounding cough that left her with blood on her lips. “Ori.”

“I’m here.” Orian choked around the sob in her throat.

“House Ng’ombe...will fall.”

“No!”

“Yeh. Too mut’...debt...no water...no way t’...recov--” Mare gasped and lay back, hands clutching at the silk blankets beneath her ruined fingers.

“Save your strength, my friend,” Orian said gently. “We can speak more later, you need--”

“No! Mus...tell! Please!”

“All right, all right now, I’m listening,” Orian soothed. “Tell me.”

“Ng’ombe...Nekare...we’re neighbors.” Mare stopped, gasped, tried again. “Fathers’ fathers ...cousins...precedent...titlemen’...”

Suddenly, Orian understood her. “Oh, no. Ohhh, Mare, don’t do this. Your House will rally, all it needs is time to recover!”

“No...time!” Mare insisted. “No blood but…me...please, Ori-shan.” With great effort, the lady reached out and grabbed Orian’s hand with her own blistered claw. “Save...my people...please.”

Orian wanted to protest. She wanted to insist that Osumare would recover, or that her death, without a husband or children to carry on her name, would not spell death for House Ng’ombe -- but it would be a lie. She could feel the truth of Mare’s fears with every beat of her pulse against her friend’s burned, bleeding hand. Osumare was dying, and with her, House Ng’ombe would die. Its debtors would come and strip their house and lands of everything valuable -- and if that was not enough to repay what they owed, the freewomen of Ng’ombe would be obliged to become servants in the loaners’ households. Even if not, a woman without a House was nothing. A woman who had lost her house through ill-fortune was considered bad luck -- how would the Ng’ombe people survive?

There was one way. It made Orian sick to think about -- but it was the only one left.

“Very well, Mare-shan,” she whispered, squeezing the other’s hand gently. “I will bring the scribe and the priestess.”

Osumare fell back onto her cold-spelled pillows with a relieved sigh. “Tank ‘oo.”

Across the tent, Jaeger-Tau had struggled into a sitting position. His skin still felt hot, but no worse than a sunburn, and his lungs were clear of smoke -- the Physica knew her trade well.

“What do you think they say?” Brandt-Faran murmured to him.

“I do not know,” Jaeger-Tau shook his head. “But whatever it is, my mistress is distressed.”

“How can you tell? Her back’s towards us.”

“The set of her shoulders.”

Brandt-Faran was about to scoff, then stopped himself, remembering how Einar always said the same thing about him. “Perhaps they say good-bye.”

“Then she will need me,” Jaeger-Tau sighed and began to struggle to his feet.

“Whoa now, wait a blessed moment!” Brandt-Faran protested. “You’ve just had a major Healing. You need rest. Let the Great One call on her other servants!”

“I shall rest afterwards.”

“Jaeger, you almost died!”

Jaeger-Tau turned to regard his cousin with what Brandt-Faran had always privately thought of as his “Prince of the Blood Royal” expression. “I am aware of that, cousin.”

Brandt-Faran sighed in frustration; he was not winning this particular argument, and he knew it. “Why must you always be such a -- fine. Do what you will. Kill yourself from over-exertion, I care not. But are you also aware that you are naked?”

Jaeger-Tau looked down briefly. “Oh. I, um…”

“Idiot.” Brandt-Faran rolled his eyes. “Wait here. I’ll find you something to wear.”

When Orian stood up, she found Jaeger-Tau standing behind her, barefoot and dressed in a plain linen kalasiri. “Tau!” She exclaimed. “You should be resting!”

“I feel well enough to serve, O Attentive and Concerned,” he bowed slightly. “Tell me what you need.”

She almost reprimanded him, but something in his expression told her he was going to be stubborn about it. “Fine. Go find Tevi. Tell him to bring a scribe and a priestess of Mordron; then ask Latifya to come to the medical tent. And find that damned Physica! She may not be able to save Mare’s life, but she can at least make her last hours more comfortable.”

“It will be done, Great Daughter,” Jaeger-Tau assured her.

Orian returned to her place beside her friend as her slave ran to do her bidding. “It shall not be long, Mare-shan. Be strong.”

Mare regarded her with surprisingly shrewd eyes. “Th’ man…”

“Tau? What about him?”

“He...loves…’oo.”

Orian’s hear thudded in her breast. “What?” She laughed nervously. “He’s devoted to his duty, that is all.”

Mare shook her head ever-so-slightly. “Men who...almos’ die...don’ go run...for anyone. He loves…” she trailed off, coughing.

“Save your breath for something more than idle gossip,” Orian chided, but gently. “He is a good man, and that is all I will say on the matter.”

“Why?” Mare grinned weakly. “Dead women...tell...no...tales.”

Tevi and Tau returned within the hour, trailing a well-dressed scribe and a concerned Mordron priestess. The two men showed the ladies over to Osumare’s bedside, where Latifya and Physica Vikka had joined Orian to wait.

“How may we serve the Great Daughters?” The priestess asked.

Orian lifted her chin. “Osumare, Great Lady of House Ng’ombe, would like to pledge fealty of her line to House Nekare.”

The priestess looked back and forth between the two women. “Fealty oaths are only sworn on deathbeds, and only by the last of a line. My lady Osumare, is this truly what you wish?”

Mare nodded firmly, once, twice, thrice.

The priestess looked reluctant. “Are the Great Ladies of both Houses present?”

Latifya raised her hand slightly. “I am Latifya, Great Lady of House Nekare.”

Slowly, painfully, Phyisca Vikka helped Osumare into a slightly more raised position. “I am...Osumare…” she gasped. “Great La-...dy of...House...Ng’...ombe.”

The priestess closed her eyes and shook her head sadly. “Very well. Then witness all, on this tenth day of Satyrnalia, in the year of our Lady 5777 After Landbreak, this transfer of fealty. Witness the transfer of the lands, wealth, and peoples of Ng’ombe to the blood and Banner of Nekare. Lady Osumare, do you willingly swear your loyalty, and through you, the loyalty of all Ng’ombe, to the blood and Banner of House Nekare?”

“I...do.”

“Do you understand that in so doing, you hereby strip yourself of the title of Great Lady, and shall leave this plane a freewoman of no family, no lineage?”

“I...under...stand.” Mare closed her eyes weakly.

Orian put her face in her hands.

“Lady Latifya of Nekare,” the priestess continued in a sterner tone. “Do you hereby pledge to take all the peoples, lands and goods of House Ng’ombe under your Banner; do you swear that the blood of Nekare will protect the blood of Ng’ombe from this day forth, until the moon falls from the sky?”

Latifya nodded firmly. “I do so swear.”

Orian stifled a sob.

The priestess glanced at her, gaze softening. “And do you, Great Ones of Nekare, pledge to take into your House and your bloodline one Osumare of No Line, freewoman of no birth? Do you pledge to keep her as your own, even unto death, and bury her with all due respect for a daughter of your House? You may deny this oath with no consequence.”

Mare’s eyes popped open in surprise. “Wait...I didn’...mean…”

“Yes!” Orian replied joyfully. “Oh yes, Holy Mother! We do so swear!”

To her credit, Latifya paused only the briefest of moments to consider the cost a funeral for a daughter of the House would cost her. Osumare was their friend; they could not let her wander the afterlife with no family to guide her to the correct heaven. “We do so swear.”

“Then by the power entrusted to me by the Great Mother Mordron, Chief of the Nine Faces, I declare this oath binding from now until the moon falls from the sky.”

“Heard and witnessed,” said Tevi, the Physica, Brandt-Faran and Jaeger-Tau.

“And inscribed for all to see,” said the scribe, finishing out the ritual.

The priestess smiled briefly at them all. “‘Twas a brave, selfless thing to do, my dear,” she said to Mare. “And you girls show yourselves worthy of her trust.”

Orian sniffled back another sob. “We love her, Holy Mother.”

Latifya put an arm around her sister, and smiled down at Mare. “We do.”

Mare closed her eyes; two pink tears tracked their way down her ruined cheeks. “T’ank ‘oo.”

The scribe collected a drop of blood from each of the signatories and witnesses, then used her magic to create several copies. “I will ensure a copy makes its way to the estate manager of Ng’ombe-that-was, and one copy stored in the Royal Reserve.”

“And I shall go myself to Ng’ombe to make a census,” Wise Mother Tiksi said, poking her head inside the tent.

“Thank you, Wise Mother,” Latifya nodded solemnly.

Orian looked up. “And tell any of the Ng’ombe women they are welcome to come to Kinshasa for…” She trailed off awkwardly.

“For my...funeral,” Mare whispered. “Tell...them...to bring...my Mau-cat.”

Tiksi nodded. “Of course, Great Daughter.”

“Not...Great...Daught’...anymore.”

“You are a Great Daughter of House Nekare, my dear,” Tiksi reminded her gently. “We honor our blood.”

The dying woman smiled slightly.

Osumare lasted until sunset. At her request, Tevi and Jaeger-Tau had carried her outside to see the light fade.

When she breathed her last, it was surrounded by her friends, her new family, and every single herder who had survived the fire, with a priestess of Mordron to bless her on her way.

Together, the mourners kindled pure white mage-lights and set them free -- where a ring of chiming sylphs sent them wafting into the sky on a soft, warm breeze.

“You what?” Yazi screamed.

He smirked, sipped cynterine. “Don’t worry, my flower; nothing comes back to you.”

“That isn’t...I don’t care if it comes back to me!” Yazi paced about her private tent, scrubbing her hands frantically over her short-cropped hair. “There were children in that camp! You promised me no more children would be harmed; you promised!”

“Did I?” He looked up as though trying to remember. “I cannot recall.”

Yazi could recall perfectly, but she knew from experience that when He adopted that tone, it meant He would never admit it; He would deny the truth until Yazi herself wasn’t quite certain of it.

So she switched tactics. “But why Osumare? She’s behind me in the rankings! She’s no threat -- and dammit, she’s the last of her line!”

“Exactly.”

Yazi stopped cold, a stone of dread in her throat. “What?”

“You needed more of a connection to the common people, my dear. House Ng’ombe has over a thousand citizens in its care, plus close ties to dozens of common merchant houses. Without a Great One to rule it, it will become the property of its creditors -- unless Osumare swears fealty to a sympathetic House before she dies.”

“No,” Yazi whispered. “No.”

“Yes,” He pulled a parchment fold out of His belt-pouch and handed it to her. “You will send this message to House Ng’ombe’s encampment, expressing your deepest condolences and offering to shelter the shattered remnants of their House under your blood and Banner -- out of the goodness of your heart, of course.”

She did not take it. “Mare would never agree to that. It would mean the end of her bloodline!”

“”Tis the end of her bloodline anyway, my dear. And your mothers were fourth cousins, so there is every familial bond to back your claim. It will look even better once people know you sent one of your favored slaves to serve as anchor to the lead Physica on the scene; masterful move there, flower. Even I could not have done better.”

“I didn’t send him for -- it wasn’t like that!”

“Wasn’t it?”

Yazi pressed her hands against her temples. What was happening? She had never agreed to this. It was one thing to attempt to intimidate a rival into dropping out of the Queenmaker -- and even then, Yazi was sick over the loss of a child to her scheming -- but acquiring other women’s Houses by nefarious means? Impossible!

“Uyaza,” He said.

“No,” she shook her head. “I cannot. I won’t win this way.”

“Of course you will.”

“I mean I will not win this way!” She shouted. “Just -- get out. Leave me.”

In a moment, He was on her, strong hands closing about her throat. “You. Don’t. Tell. Me. When to leave.”

She struggled, but He was far too strong. Her eyes darted towards the entrance, where two guards waited just outside.

“Go ahead,” He purred. “Call your dogs. Shall we see if I can push their minds before they reach for their pitiful weapons? It would be a shame if Lady Uyaza was killed by her own men, now wouldn’t it? They wouldn’t remember a thing, of course -- but that wouldn’t save them from the dungeons, or you from the grave.”

“They are loyal to me,” Yazi choked.

“Then call them. But first, tell me...who is there to manage the burial rights for you? Just in case. Wouldn’t want your spirit roaming the netherworld for eternity, now would we?” His eyes gleamed black in the light of the dying sun.

Yazi went limp. “I’m sorry. Forgive me.”

“I can barely hear you, flower,” He growled. “What did you say?”

“Forgive me, master. I -- I will send the letter tomorrow.”

“Tonight.”

She closed her eyes, and two tears leaked from their corners. “Yes.”

His fingers flexed, loosened. “You know I’m only doing this for you, don’t you? So you can be queen.”

“Yes,” she whispered.

“You know I love you. Don’t you?”

“Y-yes.”

He pressed a brutal kiss to her lips before releasing her. “That’s my girl.”

Yazi curled up in a ball at his feet, trying to press the misery out of her stomach and breathe the pain out of her throat.

________________________________

Chapter 14, coming soon!

#Lady of Khaneya #writeblr #ownvoices #fantasy #jessica ann strother #brock o'hurn #charlie hunnam #original fiction #magic #romance #woc writers #poc fantasy #tw abuse #tw death

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the-kipsabian · 8 years ago

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Helpful Secrets

i wrote a cute thing yesterday so have this all you really need to know is that alex doesnt like kids, like, at all, and the running joke here is that he is being told that he looks like the guy who plays batman cause i use christian bale, who obviously played batman in the nolan movies, as his faceclaim jael (and the mentioned jj) belong to my partner in crime @bubblypunkbitch everything else is mine

The brunet leaned his back against the back of the bench, the pair of mismatching green eyes glancing around him, the man clearly reserved of his surroundings. He didn’t like being out in the public like this, to be honest he wasn’t entirely sure how the other man had managed to drag him out today, let alone to a mall filled with people. Alex was already not very fond of people, so why he had agreed to this when Jael had asked him, he had no earthly idea.

The plum haired man sitting next to him, like usually, seemed absolutely blissfully unaware of the distress growing by the minute in the brunet.

“This must have been your worst idea yet,” Alex muttered as he crossed his arms over his chest, like that was some way going to make his surroundings notice him less, even though the grumpy attitude growing him was most likely just having the very opposite effect instead. “I don’t know why you wanted to come here, today, out of all days…”

“Because, and I don’t know how many times I’ve always said this,” Jael sighed, shaking his head before he sent a cheerful grin towards the other man, only to get a glare back from Alex, “Sometimes you just have to get out of the house. And yes, I’m speaking specifically about you.”

“You could have taken your brother instead if you needed company that badly. He would have been head over heels for the comic store on the second floor and whatever horrible clothing stores they have in this teen infested hellhole.”

“It’s not about wanting company, it’s about getting you out of the mansion. So there. Deal with it.”

It was pointless arguing with him, and Alex was well aware of it. Jael had made up his mind, and they were in there already anyways, so there really was no way of turning back. There hadn’t been ever since Alex had asked that very same morning if the plum haired man had any plans, much to his regret, since immediately afterward Jael had slammed the news down to the table that he was taking Alex out that day.

And there they were, in the mall filled with people who Alex just really didn’t want in his life, nobody who hopefully actually saw and recognized him, just because Jael wanted to take him out and treat him something. Sure the “treating” on his end was still ultimately paid out of Alex’s own wallet, but maybe it was the thought that mattered. After all, the plum haired man had offered to take him to coffee and buy him lunch if they were out that late. He was trying to be nice, and the brunet was aware of this fact, but it still didn’t really change his mind about the other probably close to hundred people he had to deal with walking around, even if they were actively just minding their own business instead the two of them.

“You have to admit though, it’s not that bad,” Jael grinned at him, only to get back a roll of mismatching green eyes. “We could have come here during the weekend instead. When there would have been like twice as many people. Wouldn’t that have been delightful?”

“Yes, very,” Alex chuckled sarcastically at him, watching as Jael shook his head at him before glancing away from the brunet, stopping to observe his surroundings instead, most likely planning the next move the two of them should make. A thought that Alex had to admit he wasn’t very fond of, the past few hours they had spent in the mall had already been more than way enough for him. “We should probably head back soon. I don’t like the thought of leaving your brother alone for too long.”

As Jael didn’t reply back to him, Alex just rolled his eyes at him. Of course he was going to object, Jael wasn’t being true to himself if he didn’t fight back to keep his head at least a few times.

“Hensley, seriously —”

But Jael cut him off as he stood up from the bench, not stopping to address Alex at all as he took off walking away instead. The brunet looked after him for a while before he followed his example, standing up from his seat, straightening the black suit jacket before following after the plum haired man who had for a brief moment disappeared into the crowd of people from his field of vision, but who Alex quickly enough found by the shoe shop across the hallway, crouching down in front of a crying little boy.

“Hey, little buddy, what’s wrong?” The plum haired man offered the little boy a confronting smile, a pair of wide blue eyes looking back at him as the little blond boy tried to furiously wipe away his tears to the back of his hand. “I, I can-can’t find my mo-mom.”

“Hensley.” Jael glanced up as Alex walked up to him, but he chose to fully ignore the questioning look the brunet was sending to him. Instead, Jael focused back on the boy, smiling at him again.

“It’s okay, we can help you find her. Where did you see her last?”

“Hensley.”

“W-we came out of th-the store,” the boy sniffled, pointing the window next to him, obviously meaning the shoe shop. Jael nodded, trying his best to ignore the exaggerated sigh coming from the brunet. “An-and then I-I lost her.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll find her.”

Alex sighed, wiping a hand over his face, locking eyes with Jael was the plum haired man stood up, finally directly addressing the brunet standing next to him. “Hensley, really?”

“I’m not just gonna leave him crying here,” Jael muttered, trying to lower his voice to keep the conversation more private between the two of them, thankfully the boy still sniffling quite loudly to signal he was much more focused on his current state of distress than what the two of them had to discuss about. “She can’t be far. I’m just gonna walk around a little, check some shops and try to find her, that’s all.”

“…Wait, you are leaving me with him?”

Jael rolled his eyes at him. “Come on Alex, he’s just a little kid. You can deal with him for ten minutes, probably not even that.”

The brunet looked down at the boy, who had started to look around him, the pair of blue eyes of his trying to catch even a glimpse of the familiar looking woman he had undoubtedly been together with just mere minutes ago. Alex’s eyes returned to the impatient looking man standing in front of him, and he already knew that no matter what he was going to say, Jael wasn’t going to give the decision to do this up.

“Why don’t you stay with him while I go look for his mother? You’d be better company for him anyways.”

“Cause if I let you walk out now we both know damn well that you are not going to come back, and two hours later I find you sitting back at the mansion because you decided to bail on me instead of actually looking for his mom like you promised you would do.”

Truth to be told Alex hadn’t planned on doing that, but now that Jael was presenting the possibility to him, it definitely sounded tempting. But since it was on the table now, they both knew Jael wasn’t going to let him even try it. There was no way Alex could talk his way out of this one, and they both knew it, the demanding expression on Jael’s face just barely masking the victory in him that he already knew he had achieved over the brunet.

“…Fine. But be fast with it.”

Jael rolled his eyes, kneeling back down to the boy’s level, gathering his attention almost immediately. “Hey, I’m going to go look for you mom, alright? My friend is going to stay here with you, so you don’t have to be alone.” The boy glanced quickly up at Alex as Jael motioned towards him, the brunet trying to give out the nicest smile he could. The little blond boy just nodded before his eyes turned back to Jael, watching the man stand up again to face Alex.

“Just stay here with him, okay? Talk to him to keep him occupied with other thoughts or something.”

Before the brunet had a chance to object to him any further, the plum haired man had already spun around on his heels and made his way to the crowd of people walking by, disappearing almost immediately. For a moment Alex tried to spot him on the crowd, the usually so easy task being surprisingly difficult since Jael’s hair was probably the easiest thing to spot even in large crowds, but the man had mysteriously managed to disappear almost immediately. Holding back a defeated sigh, the brunet’s eyes landed on the little boy still sniffling besides him.

“Oh boy,” Alex muttered to himself before crouching down next to the boy, offering him a little smile as the pair of tear filled eyes landed on him. “It’s going to be fine. He’s going to find your mom and be back soon, don’t worry.”

The boy just nodded, sniffling quietly again. He had at least stopped crying for now, so maybe there was some kind of hope that Alex was able to deal with the situation that had been left in his clearly unwanting hands. Not that he really knew what to do with the kid while Jael was away, but the fact that he had stopped crying was a good start, leaving him a little less to handle. The biggest problem right now though, was that Alex had no idea how to carry on from here.

Thankfully, there appeared to be something that drew the little boy’s attention enough to make him focus on it instead of the situation at hand.

“Are you a bad guy?”

Alex’s eyes narrowed a little as he watched the boy carefully observe his face, before he raised a dark brow at him. “…No. I’m not. Why?”

“You have a scar on your face,” the boy stated, his slightly shaky hand tracing over his own face, most importantly over his left eye, mirroring the slight, barely noticeable scar over Alex’s right eye. Almost on an instinct the brunet lifted his hand to brush over his scar, watching the boy nod his head slightly, like giving Alex the sigh that he had the right idea about what he meant. “Bad guys always have scars.”

Alex observed the boy while trying to construct some kind of a kid friendly reply in his head, taking in the look of the little boy standing in front of him - the blond hair barely covered his head, the big blue eyes were wide and curious, and more importantly his comment made a lot more sense to the brunet after he recognized the Captain America shirt the little fellow was wearing. Of course a little boy obsessed with comic books would find him villainous, with or without the scar was Alex’s guess, that was just natural for him.

“I see. That’s a good point, but no, I’m not a bad guy.”

“Oh. Okay.” The boy nodded his head a little, something in his expression signaling to Alex that just knowing that was clearly lifting his spirits already. The brunet smiled a little at the thought, a sly little idea entering into his mind that he could use to pass time with this little boy until Jael hopefully made his return with his mom.

“So you like comics then?” he asked, motioning towards the shirt the boy was wearing. The little blond glanced down to his shirt that was sporting a simple image of the famous shield used by Captain America, before he nodded his head again. “Do you?”

“Not really, but I have a friend who does. He really likes Batman.”

“I like Batman too,” the boy beamed, for the first time since arriving to the situation Alex spotting a clear smile crossing his entire face. “Batman’s cool!”

Alex chuckled, the boy’s excited expression making a smile form on his face too. “He would be delighted to hear that. But, can you keep a little secret?”

The boy nodded, being clearly happy that the conversation had turned into something he liked. Alex glanced around him, like he was actually going to tell the boy some super big secret, before leaning carefully closer towards the little boy. “I’m actually Batman.”

The pair of blue eyes blinked at him a couple of times as Alex pulled away, the boy slowly registering his words as he looked the man in front of him - the suit he was dressed in, the short, dark brown hair he sported, sure the eyes were definitely not matching up to the image he had in his head for Bruce Wayne but soon enough it seemed to click in his little child’s mind, the pair of blue eyes widening as he kept staring at Alex, his confusion slowly shifting into a quiet awe.

“But you can’t tell anyone,” Alex stated, the boy nodding his head quickly, pressing a finger over his lips as a sign of silence. “Nobody can know who I am, alright?”

“Alright!” he nodded, Alex thanking his luck for once for the fact that he was living with not only Jael but JJ as well, the younger one of the two brothers in more than one occasion telling him how much he looked like the actor who played Batman in the movies that he kept watching on repeat up to the point where both other men were tired of hearing them coming out of the television. If something, Alex could use this knowledge to keep the little boy standing in front of him at the moment distracted for a moment, especially since apparently the resemblance was there enough for even his little child’s mind to notice it.

“Jeremy!”

The boy whipped around on his spot as the familiar voice reached his ears, Alex not seeing it but he could imagine the excited look crossing his entire face as a clearly familiar figure appeared on his view. The boy took off running, dashing into his mother’s arms, who was followed to the scene by widely smiling Jael, who was clearly happy that his search for the missing mother was a success. Alex straightened himself from the floor as the plum haired man stopped next to him, eyes locking together with the relieved looking blue pair the mother of the boy sported as she let her son go from the tight embrace.

“Thank you so much for looking after him, I was so worried when I lost him in the crowd.” She smiled down at the little boy standing by her side, having a tight hold of her hand as the little blond beamed up at the three adults surrounding him. “I can’t thank you enough for this.”

“It’s nothing, really,” Jael chuckled, offering the woman a smile. “It’s the least we could do.”

“Just, thank you so much for this,” she smiled, glancing down at the boy standing next to her. “Come on Jeremy, we need to go. Say thank you.”

“Thank you!” the little boy beamed up at them, erupting a soft laugh from Jael as he waved at them. Jeremy’s attention was on Alex though as his mother turned away, pulling the blond boy after her, before he waved at the two men still standing in front of the shoe shop. “Bye Bruce!”

Jael’s eyes narrowed a little as he glanced at Alex standing on his side, watching the brunet lift his hand up a little as a farewell to the little boy. Jael crossed his arms over his chest with a raised brow as the boy and his mother disappeared into the crowd, leaving the two of them alone again. “Bruce?”

“Bruce Wayne.”

“I was gone for barely five minutes and you have convinced a little kid that you are Batman,” Jael muttered, shaking his head at the brunet who just rolled his eyes at him. “And you say you are bad with kids.”

“Let’s not go to that. Can we just get back and spend the rest of the day away from too many people and crying kids?”

“I guess,” the plum haired man shrugged, but he couldn’t help a little smug grin crossing his lips. “So, what, you are going to take me back to your mansion and charm me like Bruce Wayne always charms all the dates he brings home?”

“Shut up or I’m leaving you here,” the brunet stated, turning around on his heels before starting to approach the nearest exit out of the building. Jael chuckled a little before hurrying after him. “You started it!”

#mads writes #original fiction #oc: alex #my children #this was inspired by a prompt i reblogged yesterday #maybe i find it at some point and add it here idk #anyways heres a thing #pls love me #likes are a nice way to let me know youve read it and sharing is caring <3 #like usually <33

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siderealxmelody · 6 years ago

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"A way to travel back in time and avoid all of this?" Zuriel said with a smile. He was trying to stay positive, wasn't there some human line of tragedy and togetherness?

Maybe they could pull together and not drift further apart.

The hurt angel cocked his head thinking.

"I -"

A figure moved pushing Zuriel out of the way as an arrow descended and struck the wall. Zuriel growled shoving Azazel off of him

"This doesn't make up for what you've done."

Azazel rolled his eyes and backed off. Moving to Raphael's side who nodded at Grace and looked unfazed by all of it. Kushiel and the younger children turned as an angel flew down. Brown speckled wings..

He moved past them all and glared at Zuriel.

"You help them? They who killed our own, who took how many of our children from us? Why?"

"He's a child Rehiel. He didn't have any control of what hap-"

"How many of you would kill the fallen if you found them?"

Rehiel asked turning to the teens. Jael motioned for them to answer.

"They deserve to die. They turned their back on their true family, they walk with the devil and as such need to be eradicated."

The hurt angel said from the ground. The others nodded.

Zuriel sighed at Rehiel swept his hand over them all as if to indicate his point.

"Walk away. They have healers don't they? They can care for their own. Just because they lost their home doesn't mean anything had changed. They denied us entry even when we begged, why should we help them now?"

Zuriel sighed and nodded.

"Fine, but why are you yelling at me. Azazel has done this before -"

"Azazel's loyalties were always...fluid. We knew that. Do this for your family, for him. Do you want him to grow up with the doctrine of Heaven in his veins?"

Azazel and Kushiel eyes widened. Azazel leaned toward Grace to translate.

"He has a son. I can't believe it. Why didn't you tell me Zuriel?"

"I don't owe you anything Azazel. Be lucky I haven't killed you yet."

Thunder sounded over head the angels tensed. Raphael let go of the young angel who stood and ran to his friends.

"I am getting tired of your anger and accusations at Azazel Zuriel. Do be careful, I have left you alone. I don't have to. You have disobeyed and swayed others of my healers to leave or doubt. That is an offense is punishable."

Zuriel bristled.

"I only wished for them to think and not act so blindly."

Kushiel moved between them.

"Raphael will you take Azazel and Yazel to Michael's fort? Jael and I can handle the rest."

He sent a look at Zuriel.

"And we will make sure to keep them out."

Raphael nodded and snapped them all away. Kushiel relaxed and smiled at Zuriel.

"You are good and loyal, I am sorry if you think I would hurt you."

"I was a little worried but I knew Grace would stop you."

He turned to Grace and shrugged.

"I know you don't like it but we are a militaristic race. It's how we solve conflicts."

Reliel eyed her skeptically and edged away, moving to Zuriel's side.

"Is it true you have powers?"

Bit By Bit Splitting Apart

@aprincess-and-herknight

Kushiel paced as the reports came in. He hissed, slamming his hand on the wall, maki g the house shake.

“Dammit. Those children need to be taught discipline.”

He was even more on edge because Yeqon was due to speak on at the UN today for the first time as a full fledged member.

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deborahcastellano · 7 years ago

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[Rules of Exile] Rule No. 8 You Have a Right to Sanctuary

Exile has a way of grinding you down. Sure, finding the hollow of our hunger will make us strong Queens, but that feels really abstract after nine hours on your feet in your copy room mediation cave where you've started to wonder key things like: will you ever read a book again? Will you ever write again? Can you still feel feelings?

Add to this, whatever austerity you were once willingly putting yourself through but now you have stopped fantasizing about sex things like a normal person and instead are immersing yourself in fully developed reveries about ground beef.

Maybe, sometimes, you are going to the gym. But cycling only because it's the only time you have to text people you actually like and look at Insta and pretend you are a person. Also, it's quiet there and no one talks to you except when you manage to not double book yourself for the millionth time and your friend Xtina goes with you. Xtina is a trainer and pole instructor and gets up at 3:30a. She's in exile too but still somehow has a will to live and reminds you not to be such a moody cow about yours as she barks at you through various tortures she's devised just for you which is flattering but also torture.

On your living room table currently: An empty water bottle you have not actually drank out of in a day, your wedding ring, your fit bit, a wine glass, a coffee cup, three milk stout bottles (left hand of course) from last night with your husband, a memoir you are supposed to be reading and reviewing and possibly interviewing the author for, sea salt (your best friend's contribution), cocoa nibs and cheese whisps you're not supposed to be eating, a shot glass, a highlighter, heart burn pills, a mason jar full of your valentine's day limited edition oil, your husband's million notebooks, a lighter and Fiona Horn's book that your editor whimsically threw in for you just in case. Your husband has pants hung over a chair in the dining room because his exile isn't exactly easy either.

Your body has started attacking you because that's how it shows support for your troubles in exile, by temporarily disfiguring you. You have a large patch of eczema on your clavicle that your husband and mother keep making worried pecking noises about and are never reassured that this happens, you have a med check with your doctor in a couple weeks any way and when exactly are you supposed to go to see her and then a derma when you have to bust your ass just to leave "early" (after an hour an a half of OT) to get your hair did so you don't have to look at three inch roots and collapse into an exile fueled depression about it. You rub salves into it regularly and it itches, especially when they talk about it. Your lips shed skin constantly, your scalp is as dry as the Sahara and you've started pulling your nose ring out in your sleep again.

But on Saturdays, when you work only five hours instead of ten, you start to regain some willpower, if only for a moment. You take yourself on long walks through shops even though you don't have much money really because your housewares keep betraying you too just to add more insult to injury. You are still waiting to be paid for your book, your tax return is already going to the Queen mother who helped you when your circuit breaker betrayed you in the fall and you have a shiny new water heater that you didn't want either. But you have a little, and it's good to walk it all out and to see new things. You can afford small things - a wash and salve for your face/clavicle, a new bb cream, gorgeous glitter from Nyx to put in your hair when your roots come back and this time you'll be in too deep to get them done but you can at least sparkle, colored lip balm to help with your lips.

But there is still time for revelations in the copy room and you realize that all of your beloved medieval Queens had a right to seek sanctuary where no one could bother them. Even if it was the crypts in Westminster Abbey.

Perk to being a post-modern #QueenInExile: You don't have to chill with dead people's bones in cold, damp nearly lightless conditions unless you want to.

So, you may be saying to yourself that you don't have space for a sanctuary. I disagree. I share a 725 sq ft condo with Jow and I have space. Now, if we're talking really small living, it may be a little harder but like everything else, it's about priority.

For me, it started with a dream about Mary M. who was young and tattooed/pierced up and had a pop up bookstore the size of my bedroom in my dream. She had a gorgeous huge yard with a pool and flowers everywhere. There were people outside in various states of undress - drumming, laughing and getting down. She had an amused while tolerant air about her about the shenanigans outside and people would tumble through the door, talking and laughing and looking at books. She wanted to carry my book and have me give workshops which made me shy but flattered. I was telling J. about Our Lady's appearance and he said that sanctuary space is important. I went into the copy room meditation cave and started thinking about that.

Shared space becomes difficult with enough time. Not impossible, but difficult. I don't know that I would describe myself as territorial per se because that seems a lot more alpha and a lot less community guppy than I usually tend to be, but I have spent a long time building this tiny condo into a hearth. For me that's been expressed in some interesting ways. Like if I really don't like you or trust you, I don't want you in my space. This becomes interesting when you share said space with a husband but we've mostly figured it out I think.

The beginning of this revelation really started at an event I was going to where I had my own suite. I've never had my own hotel suite (or room for the matter), it's always been mine and someone else's. This was very much my space, where I invited others into it. That set a very powerful standard for me. I loved nesting into my space, arranging my macarons and St. Germain just so. My sheepskin draped over the leather coffee table. My clothes hung up, my sinks and bedside table put together just so.

I loved deciding where my altar would go and not needing to consult anyone else. It was a space for thoughtful glamour choices with music I liked best. I liked seeing how capable I was. Forgot my phone charger? No problem. I called the nearest 5 Below and asked them and then took myself right over there to pick it up, listening to radiomancy omens on the way. I picked up a quartz tiara on a whim, which wound up to be my most complimented item. I loved telling admirers that it was 5 Below, not as compliment apology but a triumphant caw that it's for all of us to access, if desired.

I set up my altar to Babalon on the desk, intentionally arranging my vanity next to it so I was constantly sitting next to it. Purple embossed velvet, a crimson opened pomegranate, a sfogliatelle shaped like a yoni, a tiny gold tea cup with the word tramp scrawled across it, shining rose quartz, a delicate peacock feather, a red wax sealed love potion, snowy deer antlers, a pink glass container with a perpetually lit (electric) candle, a perfume I had mixed for this, an amethyst glass container for the perfume with curled reeds to spread it in my room. Soft rabbit skin. A glittering compact, a shimmering perfume atomizer, a picture of Her. Dried flower petals strewn across the altar. It was a heady experience that made me think about Pennsic.

Part of why I think last Pennsic (for me, two years ago) was so hard for me was that I didn't have a room of my own, so to speak which is actually more like a tent of my own. It took me a while to figure that out because I was too busy being upset with everyone and I had just finished writing my book which apparently makes me postpartum crazy. But this year, I haven't just finished writing a book and I now know I need a retreat so that I can do whatever I want whenever I want to. Including, being left the fuck alone. And I got so excited to be able to decorate a space with no one else in mind. I've been slowly acquiring house/tent wares a la Jael once I had that revelation.

So, I could see the value of having space that was just mine. It made me think of the party me and Jow had for our birthdays and the happy memories I have from it. I started thinking, what if I made the teepee a permanent sanctuary fixture? I talked to Jow about it, figuring he'd be frowny faced about it, but he was completely into it. I also wanted some rules:

Nothing fun happens in the teepee without me. Reading and magic can, but nothing else. It's my teepee.

If you use my sanctuary, you are to reset it back to its "default" setting. No weird energetic dead bugs, no husband flotsam.

Again, Jow was very into it. My clavicle situation may have contributed to his willingness, but I'm not going to look into it.

I really spent some time intentionally setting space there. I got a velvet blanket and a meditation cushion. I made a small altar. I got a tiny essential oil diffuser. I strung fairy lights. I put in the sheepskin I was gifted by Ro. I set my intention. I consecrated my space.

Think about being little, what was better than a blanket fort? Why not have one now for your Work, for a chill space, for a space to read and create? I cheated in making mine a bit as my structure was premade but in the words of Ferris, if you have the means, I highly recommend it. Get yours here. I use clothespins to completely close it when I'm feeling really anti social. Don't have the means? You would rather build your own? I appreciate industriousness, Sister Queen. Get some ideas here, here and here.

Because . . .we may as well dream while we're in exile, Sisters.

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razorblade180 · 5 years ago

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Seasons Beatings pt2

[Void, Vytal Ring]

Carmine and Yujin stand on opposite sides of the platform in there fighting gear. The older opponent smiles as she watches her half sister from another world stretch her wrist. Carmine then watches Yujin pull out what looks to be like two golden box cutters that a crease in the middle of each. Yujin slapped one on each wrist. Making them fold around like....well a slap bracelet. ‘Well that’s unique. It reminds me almost like Ember-’ her thought was derailed as Yujin flicked both wrist and the bracelets became gauntlets. ‘Oh. In hindsight I guess I should expect no less.’

Yujin:You ready!?

Carmine:Can I just say it’s really something that you’re fighting in some wripped blue jeans and walks around with a blue trench coat. Are you hunting grimm or devils?

Yujin:First of all, you are wearing a crop top. Second, don’t forget to mention that the inside of the cloak is orange. Very important distinction. If it was leather then it would be trench coat. Third, Tenzen has made me watch a lot of his favorite shows.

Carmine:I’ll be sure to keep that in mind. I’m ready to start when you are.

Yujin nods and gets into her boxing stance while Carmine grabs her sword and bring it navel level in front of her. Their knees bend slightly and breath slows down to a crawl. Metal thumping zones them out of battle ready mode for a moment. Suddenly they aren’t alone anymore. Everyone is in the bleachers watching from above.

Carmine:Looks like we have an audience.

Yujin:Not surprising. I’m only the second to fight you. I’m sure everyone will take every chance they have to analyze your fighting style. I know I would.

Carmine:Why do you think Tenzen showed up then?

Yujin:He’s my entire support group.

Tenzen:Kick her butt Yujin!!!! I know you can do it!

He can see her shift both eyes toward him as she smiles; letting him know she appreciates the cheer before focusing her attention back at the task at hand.

Once again the room goes dead silence. The first moves have already been made. Yujin could tell every single thing about herself was being watched closely. The slight rise of her shoulders when she breathed. The weight of her feet going from the heel to the balls of them. ‘Blade against fists. At least it’s nothing I haven’t done before. If I’m lucky the her Jaune trained her swordplay like me. The night stick is a factor but it’s the scythe I’m worried about.’ They slowly begin to walk in a circle. Keeping an equal distance apart.

‘Yujin looks serious. Better not take her lightly, or let her think too much. If our dad’s are alike then a game plan is the last thing needs to figure out.’ Carmine two steps forward before raising her blade and lunging. The wind was cut through like paper and a loud clang rung in the crowds ears as the blade met the back of the gauntlets. “Nice block” said Carmine with a smirk as she dragged her weapon down to the floor thin twirled. Yujin quickly saw the sword rise to meet her right side and caught it with her left hand. The assault wasn’t over. Carmine pivoted on her right heel and spun to Yujin’s left with her night stick and fired point blank.

The force slid Carmine back and she took a new stance. This time with her left side leading with her nightstick blocking diagonally. Her blade still in Yujin’s hand while the other gripped the round met for the girls ribs. It was surprising to say the least. Yujin’s eyes glowed a majestic lilac and she tossed the sword out of bounds. “My turn....” she said power jumping and slamming her fist down like a sledgehammer. Carmine pivoted once more; leaving the attack to dent the floor. Yujin thought on her feet and rose her right leg to kick the girl behind her. The hit landed right into her stomach before an elbow grazed her face. Not wanting to deal with any of that, Carmine backflipped to the middle of the stage for distance. ‘Her speed isn’t as fast as Tenzen, but that striking power...’ her stomach tensed up in shock. “Definitely a Xiao Long.” The remark made Yujin smile and point straight up into the air. “Was there ever any doubt!?” Yujin front flips into the air then raises her right leg vertically for an axe kick. “You ain’t seen nothing yet!”

Summer:Wow, would hate to be in the ring with her.

Nick:Eh...

Summer:Not impressed?

Nick:Don’t know; haven’t decided yet. Didn’t think I’d see a mixture of Valerie and Veronica.

Summer:Well Yang in any world hits like a truck. Yujin happens to have a dad that was on JN_R.

Valerie:Wouldn’t be surprised if she’s seen a thing or two from my mom.

Everyone watches Carmine backstep away from the blow. Yujin gets up with viscously with a left hook that was promptly caught. “I’m not done yet!” Yujin used her caught hand as support and did an aerial. The first foot passing by Carmine’s nose while the other knocked her clean across the face and to the ground. Yujin pulled the girl back up to her feet the sent her flying back with an elbow to the chest.

Valerie:Or.....my dad taught her something.

It was satisfying knowing she was holding her own but something felt off. Too many hits connected so easily. ‘What’s up with her? It’s like she’s barely moving.’

Yang:Uhhh Carmine? I can’t help but feel like you are actually pulling your punches.

Carmine:No, just sort of in disbelief.

She points to the left and Yujin follows her finger up to the aura board. What she saw could not have been right, yet there it was as clear as day. Yujin’s aura reading sat comfortably at 95% which made sense. Carmine hadn’t landed a clean hit. Just grazes and a bullet impact. Yujin on the other hand had landed good hits that were by no means warning shots. So how is it possible Carmine’s aura was even with hers!?

Yujin:What the!?

Carmine:I knew Arc blood made us sturdy but this sturdy? You used your semblance yet we’re even.

Yujin:You’re surprised about my numbers!!!? Look at yours!

Carmine:What about them? Seems about right to me. I’ve been tensing up every time you landed a blow. Also I’ve been told I’m quite the sturdy little wall.

Tenzen:(I wouldn’t call a six foot battle demon little.)

Sienna:Wait a second. If there aura is this resilient then a knock out would take forever. Yujin’s semblance makes her heavy.

Jael:Throwing her out the ring is no go. The only other way is pinning but how do you pin someone who’s dense? Carmine on the other hand is essentially fighting a weight that knows how to hit back.

Lucas:I guess that means....

Yujin:Gasp! (I have the advantage. She doesn’t know what to do with me!)

Carmine:(Did not expect to literally be punching out of me weight class. I’m fighting handicap no matter how I look at it. Oh well. Easy is boring anyways. Guess I’ll just do what dad does. When in doubt-)

Yujin:(Hit harder!)

Both fighters ran at each other with weapons ready but Carmine was faster. Yujin only heard a gunshot before the night stick came flying across left cheek and then slamming down on her knee. Things were defydifferent from a few moments ago. Carmine seemed to had finally put her game face on. She landed another on the inside Yujin’s arm, then leaped frog over her a swung her weapon like a baseball bat. It connected right against the shoulder blades. Carmine didn’t bother to look at the screen she knew she had a lot a ground to cover and just kept swinging.

The crowd watched Yujin struggle to keep up with the older girls nimble moves. Carmine was like a ballet dancer; her foot work brilliantly gliding across the floor with every sidestep and pivot into an exposed opening of her opponent. The twirls she did added to this as her scarf trailed behind her. Each spin was a way to dodge, prepare a block, or build up momentum for a close quarters strike. One hit would land and she’d immediately spin the opposite direction before coming in contact again. It was a sight to see but also very tiring.

The rapid and powerful attacks took some wind out of her and it didn’t go unnoticed. She swung for Yujin’s jaw but missed because of a well timed duck. Yujin didn’t let this slip up go without consequences and got Carmine’s ribs with a weighted right hook, then sent her elder stumbling back with a headbutt. Lucas and Tenzen winced at the thump it caused. Not even Carmine would go unfazed by such a blow and she didn’t. Her vision cleared just in time to see a flaming left first hit her square in the face and push her back more. Yujin was set on capitalizing this moment.

‘Hit the head and the body will follow. I got this’ her mental plan kept playing on a loop. She kept advancing and lunged left knee first into Carmine’s gut to hunch her over. Yujin gripped both shoulders to put her at arms reach then yanked her forehead into another headbutt. This time an auditable grunt could be heard from Carmine’s mouth. At this rate she might accidentally stumble out the ring with enough blows. Her head was cocked down from the hit but she could still see Yujin’s shadow. A kick was coming her way fast. ‘Guess I have no choice.’ Carmine’s body glew a beautiful red and she quickly slid her right foot to the inside of Yujin’s left one. A shockwave of rose petals blasted outward like an explosion and knocked Yujin off balance before her kick can land. The girl watch Carmine get farther away. The sudden explosion had blown Yujin away and on her back to the edge of th ring. On the other side was Carmine hanging off the edge with one hand before pulling herself back up.

Valerie:Wow! what was that!?

Tenzen:(It’s like just like my match when her sword came flying out of nowhere. What is she doing?) What is that semblance?

Lucas:Don’t know, but I remember a similar thing happening awhile ago when Sienna and I went against her in the strength test. One minute we’re good and the next, boom, petals everywhere.

Yujin:*standing up* Ow....

Carmine:Aren’t you supposed to be numb to pain right now?

Yujin:I can numb pain. Not negate it. Hit me hard enough and I’m going to feel it. I definitely felt that landing. (And most of those hits)

Carmine:Consider it payback.

The contenders look at the screen to see a 75 and 72 on it. Carmine had a slight lead but it hardly mattered. Both of them groaned and look at each other.

Carmine:I’m fine with calling it a draw if you are.

Yujin:No you’re not.

Carmine:I know. I just wanted to see your face. You’re lucky you got my sword out of bounds. I’d be set otherwise.

Yujin:Maybe. It definitely would’ve made this next part more interesting.

She turned her gauntlet last back into bracelets then put her wrist together. The metal bands straightened back out like before and connected together. The far right and left side folded out from there respected crease to form a hilt. The middle shot out a blade that was the length of bastard sword. Yujin smirked and pointed at Carmine as it shined in the light. “Shall we?”

Yujin swung the sword in a wide horizontal swipe as she took a lunge forward. The sound of the metal dancing through the air was met with a dodge rolled towards it. Yujin’s talents were on display as continued to swing Tempered Steel with one hand and with ease. Heat came of the diligently forged weapon and ticked Carmine’s throat. The increase in range wasn’t expected by her and was now back on defense while Yujin rapidly thruststed her sword at blinding speed. “You know you’re only proving my devil hunter comment right!”

“Maybe a little bit.” She performs one final thrusts that slides her passed Carmine. Yujin spins around and leads with cross slash that pushes two waves of flames of it in the form of an X. Carmine’s eyes light up with excitement. “Okay now that’s pretty cool.” She raises both arms to block and a fiery explosion happens on impact. The only things visible is a Yujin sweating from the her ordeal and a plume of smoke. Her nerves start to get the better of her. This fight was fun and light hearted but winning was the goal. It seemed possible or was she falling into a trap?

The top of the smoke parted and Yujin reacted instinct; raising her blade in defense to what was only the night stick. It was a faint. Her eyes widened as she looked back in front of her. The smoke dissipated in another petal burst that knocked her gaurd off. Carmine ran right up on her to return the punch in face she was given way a right jab. Yujin’s eyes turned lilac again but Carmine did not care. She followed through and drove her first into Yujin’s face. Sending her sliding to the edge again. Sharp pain went through her wrist that made Carmine grit her teeth but that wasn’t about to stop her. It was now or never.

Carmine reached into her right pocket and jumped backwards at the same time. “I hope you’re fire proof!” She tossed a red dust crystal right at Yujin’s chest. Her night stick fell into her left hand and she wasted no time firing a round into it that caused a second explosion right on top of Yujin. Her semblance endured the blast but the impact was too great. Yujin could not stop her feet from sliding her out of the ring and falling to the ground below. A heavy thump shook the ground in a matter of seconds as the girl hit the floor with all that extra density. Carmine looked over the edge to see Yujin laying on her back displeased.

Yujin:I fell faster than I could grab the ledge.

Carmine:Yeah, you did.

Yujin:Was that the plan all along?

Carmine:No. I actually thought you’d try reverting back and jumping out the way in the way in time. At that point I would’ve shot you again to hurt you while I used another shot to zoom towards you and throw you out before you tried to weigh yourself down again.

Yujin:.....

Yujin:Can we pretend that’s how I went out?

Carmine:*snickers* Sure thing. If it makes you feel better your aura was at 62 while I had 50. Remind me to never punch you or take a fire slash to the everywhere again?

Yujin:Deal.

Jacquelyn:Hmmmm that’s two down. This girl just keeps getting more interesting.

#seasons beatings #yujin xiao long #carmine arc rose #lucas belladonna #sienna frost #jael frost #summer schnee #nicholas schnee #val valkyrie #lie tenzen #jacquelyn frost #rwby #rwby au #my oc’s

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