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silver-ink-iron-words · 3 years ago

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May I Have Your Name?

“And what’s your name ma’am?” the protagonist asked, sharpie held ready against the paper coffee cup.

The customer opened her mouth, but then faltered. An anxious look sprung on her face. “Oh. It’s the strangest thing. I can’t remember.”

The protagonist’s smile froze. “Is that so?”

“I’m so sorry,” the customer said. “It must be the new meds I’m on. They never listed this as a side effect, though.”

“Absolutely no worries.” The protagonist kicked their customer service voice into overdrive, willing their tone to sound as understanding and comforting as possible. “We’ll just bring your order to you when it’s ready.”

The customer thanked them profusely, and walked away with a haunted look on their face. A sick certainty coiled in the protagonist’s stomach. They were near certain they knew what was going on here. They instructed the nearby employees to man the orders line and to bring the one customer’s order directly to her when it was ready. Then they headed straight into the backroom.

There, they saw Finley stocking the shelves. Considering how easily they were lifting the heavy boxes, the protagonist suspected that they had magicked them to be lighter.

“Had any interesting encounters with the customers today?” the protagonist asked, crossing their arms.

“Every day with the humans is interesting. You are so often full of surprises.”

That wasn’t an answer, and they both knew it.

Finley was a new hire, fresh from the Seelie Court. They were glamoured at the moment – the lily pad leaves growing out of their head made to look like green-died hair, the glitter of their skin made to look like freckles. They flashed a mischievous grin at the protagonist, their piranha teeth rounded into square incisors.

This coffee shop, called “The Magic Bean,” was owned by a Tuatha Dé Danann who wanted to provide employment for Fair Folk transitioning into the modern human world. The protagonist was the only human currently working there.

There was a good reason for that, of course. When the protagonist was only a month old, they’d been switched with a changeling. They’d been spirited away to Faerie, while their fae doppelganger grew up in the human world. When the protagonist had first ventured into this realm, years ago, they’d tracked down their birth family and the changeling. The revelation had come as a horrible shock to their human parents, but things had improved over time. Now they were friends on Facebook.

What this all meant was that the protagonist understood both humans and the fae. It had gotten them promoted to Manager at lightning speed.

It also meant that they were very accustomed to the Finleys of the world. The faerie was currently regarding them with an air of haughty superiority, which was nothing new to the protagonist.

“Care to explain how one of our customers lost her name?” They walked over to stand in front of Finley. The bastard was taller than them, but they were determined to ignore it.

“I hear accusation in your voice,” the faerie said. “How do you know I did something?”

The protagonist did not have time for this. There was a whole line of customers out front, being serviced by the rookie employees who barely understood how to work a cellphone. “Tell me right now that you didn’t take anyone’s name today.”

Finley frowned. Because they couldn’t say that. They couldn’t lie.

The protagonist let out a frustrated sigh. “God dammit, Finley. You know this is against the rules.”

“Pff. It’s not like it was a very good name. The thing was dated even when the old bat’s parents gave it to her.”

“You are easily twice her age.” But they didn’t look it, of course. Stupid fae immortality. “How did you even get the chance to steal it? She couldn’t have been in the café for very long before ordering.”

Finley shrugged. “I was clearing a table near the door when she walked in. I said that her earrings were beautiful, and that they complimented her eyes. And then when I asked for her name, she gave it to me happily.”

A headache was beginning to form around the protagonist’s temples. “You flirted to get a name?!” This was not okay on so many levels.

They forced themselves to take a calming breath. It wouldn’t do any good to lose their temper right now. “Alright. First, you’re going to return the name. Then second, we are going to have a talk about your behavior today.”

“Ha. Funny. Why would I return a name for nothing? Unless,” the faerie stepped closer, “you’re offering something in exchange.” There was a glint in their eyes that the protagonist did not like. “How bout it? A few days off your lifespan, perhaps. Or the smoothness of your skin. Or maybe just a kiss from your supple lips.”

God, they really hated the Fair Folk sometimes. “Return the name, and I won’t immediately fire you.”

Frankly, if circumstances were normal, Finley’s ass would’ve been sent out the door already. But the protagonist knew that they’d likely be far more dangerous, alone and untethered in the human world, than they were in this café. As much as the protagonist might have wanted to, they could not fire a faerie lightly.

“You are awfully confident for a magicless human,” Finley said, their eyes flashing. “Be careful, mortal. Bad things so frequently happen to your kind.”

“Alright, that’s it. I’m writing you up.” They turned to head back out the door.

“Wait,” Finley said, and the protagonist picked up, with more than a little satisfaction, on the worried hitch in their voice. The fae were so unused to humans who could actually stand up to them. So unprepared for it. It made their job a hell of a lot easier.

They turned back around, shooting a stern gaze in Finley’s direction. “I want your oath, right now, that you will not take anything from our customers – except what is strictly necessary for your job – for the duration of your employment here.”

Finley looked unhappy. More than that – they looked pissed. But they gave their oath, nonetheless. Even without powers, the protagonist could practically feel how the words wrapped themselves around the faerie, binding them.

“And you will return the customer’s name?”

Finley gave a curt nod.

“I appreciate it,” the protagonist said, careful not to say the words ‘thank you.’ They put on a cheery smile, and moved to head back out front.

“There is considerable power in a true name,” Finley said to their back. “I wonder what yours is.”

The protagonist’s blood ran cold, but they didn’t break stride as they pushed through the door.

#snippet #writeblr #short fic #my writing #fae #not a prompt

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themoonslore · 3 years ago

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Fae Stiles Teen Wolf Fan Fic Rec part 1

Where You Still Remember Dreaming by yodasyoyo

Word count: 95612 Chapter 12/12 Sterek

What’s your name? I can’t keep calling you Balto.”

“What’s yours?”

“Stiles.”

Derek raises an eyebrow. That isn’t his real name. There’s no way. But now he thinks about it, he has a vague memory of someone, probably Uncle Peter, telling him that with the fae, names have power. “I’m Miguel,” he says.

“Lie.”

“Are you trying to tell me your real name is Stiles?”

Stiles runs his tongue across his teeth and considers Derek carefully. “Fair enough,” he says, “Miguel it is.”

Grabbing his groceries and pocketing the change, Derek turns to leave; he’s nearly at the door when Stiles calls out, “By the way, Miguel, if you’re interested, it’s two for one on bags of kibble at the pet store down the street.”

Derek doesn’t look back, doesn’t hesitate, just raises a hand and flips him off on the way out.

Somewhere to Start by Lissadiane

Word count: 33552 chapter 1/1 Sterek

Stiles has always known that he isn't quite human - the plant life that tends to sprout around him whenever he gets upset or excited gives it away. He's never really fit in among the regular people in Beacon Hills and is determined to wait it out, go to college, and find somewhere to belong. He's forced to abandon those plans, however, after he desperately agrees to enter into an arranged marriage to save his father's life

An arranged marriage with an angry, sometimes furry dude with trust issues. It's all very Beauty and the Beast, without the singing candlesticks.

Trees are always a relief after dealing with people (except when they aren't) by ravelqueen

Word count: 15889 chapters 1/1 Sterek

Derek Hale decides to become a hermit before he reaches 25. Too bad he picked Beacon Hills as his retirement home.

(Or the one where Stiles is a wood nymph/pixie/human hybrid who falls in love with his new grumpy werewolf neighbour)

Don't You Wanna Be My Sky? By WhoNatural

Word count: 9420 chapter 1/1 Sterek

Stiles got ratted out by the Realm Guard for sneaking off with Scott a total of seven times before his dad buckled, promising sabbatical once Stiles reached Faehood, and enough Earth culture in the meantime to have him talking like a born-and-bred Californian teenager.

He just didn’t have the tan.

(Or, in which Stiles is a Frost Fae sent to the Earth Realm on the Fae version of Rumspringa and immediately falls head-first into a Coffee Shop AU)

No Love in Idleness by Elpie (Horribibble)

Word count: 11687 chapter 2/2 Sterek

Stiles is the sole grandchild of none other than Robin Goodfellow, the most mischievous faerie ever to wreak havoc among the Folk and Man alike. To the people of Beacon Court, he is at best a merry wanderer of the night.

At first, Ser Derek is inclined to agree, but the little bird on his shoulder has quite a bit to say about that.

Bloody Secrets by cywscross

Word Count: 3085 Chapter 1/1 Steter

Stiles has silver in his veins.

Peter could’ve done without finding out this way though.

Dance Under the Moonlight by Therapeutic_Steter

Word Count: 3440 Chapter 2/2 Steter

Fae!Stiles saving Peter from Pack's stupidity and washing his hands of them.

Part 1. Part 2

#teen wolf #teen wolf au #teen wolf fic rec #sterek #steter #Fae #Fae stiles stilinski #Fae stiles #FSTW

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mmvalentine · 4 years ago

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The Washing Machine | Jurdan

Canon complaint. Post QoN. Smut warning.

The next time we return to the mortal realm is for Oak's tenth birthday.

I do not much like leaving Elfhame these days; the mortal realm has never held especially fond memories for me. My family visits often enough, and Oak is now attending school in Faerie and returning to his parents in the holidays. Hadn't wanted to, of course, having been able to play such marvelous tricks on his mortal friends, but since he's part of the royal family Oriana insists he have an education amongst the Folk. Personally, I think it can't hurt for him to have to contend with other faerie children, either.

This year, Oak wants to have his birthday at Time Zone.

To my great surprise, Cardan declares it high time we took a break anyway, and thinks we should spend a week in the mortal realm. I can't help but be skeptical.

"The mortal realm?" I ask in disbelief. "You, Cardan Greenbriar, High King of Expense and Excess, wish to spend a week in the mortal realm?" "Sure," Cardan shrugs. "Don't worry so, wife of mine, I'm sure it'll be fun." I shake my head. "Alright you weirdo. This I've got to see."

And so next thing I know we're in the spare bedroom of Vivi and Heather's apartment. Cardan finds the whole experience fascinating for all of three days and then promptly gets very bored.

"Let's go home," he says, flopped over our bed on his stomach. "No," I reply curtly, not looking up from my book. I've got my feet up on Cardan's back, and having seen this coming a mile off, I'm not letting him bail out now.

"I've had enough now," he says. "You're the one who wanted to spend all week here," I point out. "I was wrong. I take it back. Let us depart." "We can't go yet, Oak's birthday is tonight."

"Fine," Cardan says through gritted teeth. "Let's go tomorrow." "Tomorrow is Heather and Vivi's engagement party." "Since when?" I turn the page. "Since Monday, they announced it when we got here, remember?" "No, I do not." "Would I lie to you?" I meet his eyes over the top of the book.

Cardan growls low in his chest, and his tail flicks back and forth through the air.

"Okay so what, we just sit around waiting?" he demands. I don't know why he's so antsy, I swear he spends most of his days lounging around on his behind. I snap the book shut and put it down on the night stand.

"I'm so glad you asked," I tell him brightly. "In actual fact, we have several chores to do today!" "What are you talking about?" Cardan says crossly. "Here there are no servants," I remind him, bopping his nose. Cardan is now irritable, and swats my hand. I ignore him. "We need to get groceries for the next few days, and go to the laundromat.

"What's a laundromat?" Cardan asks. "It's where we wash our clothes." "We have to wash our own clothes?" "For the thousandth time, yes we have to wash our own clothes."

Cardan opens his mouth to protest, then shuts it again.

"Fine," he grumbles. "But if we're going to the shops I want ice cream." Of all the human foods he had tried so far, Cardan loves ice cream the most. Is an absolute sucker for ice cream.

"It's a deal," I say, sliding off the bed. "Now glamour up."

Cardan groans loudly, and rolls over onto his back.

"Now what you big baby?" I asked, exasperatedly. There really is no end to his complaining. "I'm sick of looking mortal," Cardan grumbles. "And just what exactly are you implying?"

Cardan looks at me upside down, his head hanging off the end of the bed. He reaches out and snags my waist, pulling me down next to him.

"On you it's beautiful," he says, nipping at my lower lip. "You have fewer sharp edges than faerie women." His eyes trail down to my chest. "You have more... more." He grazes his thumb under the curve of my left breast, and kisses the hollow at the base of my throat.

"Let's not go out at all," he says. "I can think of far better ways to beguile the time." His hands slide down my back, and for a moment I think we totally could just stay in here all day. But I also refuse to give in to him.

"Are you trying to use sex as an excuse to not have to be glamoured?" I accuse. Cardan makes a face.

"On me it just looks..." he gestures vaguely. "Bland."

"Too bad," I tell him. "We're going." Cardan harrumphs, and then a shimmer ripples through the air. His ears round down, his tail disappears, and the clawed tips of his fingers reduce to short, tidy nails. He keeps all the rings in his ears and on his fingers.

"I just don't want to go out like this," he says, pouting. I whack him with a pillow. "If I paint your nails, will you leave the house?" "Yes!" Cardan said, sitting up quickly. "Shiny black to match my eyes." He holds out his hands imperiously, and I bite his fingers savagely before rummaging through my bag for the nail polish.

Fifteen minutes later, we are walking down the street. I'm carrying a bag of laundry, and Cardan is blowing on his nails. He may not think much of mortal fashion, but I rather like him in his soft, black cotton t-shirt, and black jeans that hug his backside. He has kept his own boots, and he looks good. Not that I'm was going to tell him that, of course.

Our first stop is the laundromat to put our load on, then we continue on to the grocery store. I load Cardan up with a loaf of bread, bag of oranges, peanut butter to replace the one we've finished at Heather and Vivi's, a carton of eggs, a pint of milk and two packs of tampons to take back to Faerie. While I'm doing this, Cardan also grabs a bag of marshmallows, a box of froot loops, and a stack of flavoured condoms that I choose not to acknowledge at all.

When it comes to picking ice cream, Cardan spends a good ten minutes just going over all the flavours. He's transfixed by the multicoloured boxes and various promises of chocolate fudge and strawberry cheesecake utopia.

"One," I tell him firmly. "But there are so many I haven't tried yet!" he protests. "One." "You know we're not exactly short on funds, right?" "We're short on freezer space, and we're only here a couple more days. Pick."

Cardan takes on a pained look like I'm making him choose between children, and eventually selects a tub of rocky road.

We make our way home, and the laundry still has twenty minutes left on the timer. Cardan is eating ice cream out of the tub with a wooden stirrer he snagged from a coffee cart.

"Now that you've seen me do this one, you can do the next load, before we go home," I say to him. He feeds me ice cream.

"Why wash before we go home?" Cardan asks. "We've got people to do it for us there." He sucks on his makeshift spoon.

"Yes," I agree, plucking the whole tub from his hands. "But it's still a good thing for you to know how to do." Cardan reaches to take it back, but I yank it out of the way and continue eating. "You're a grown ass adult," I say. "You can't always have everyone do everything for you."

Cardan snarls.

"And stop growling and snarling at me, you're in the human realm now, act like it." I point the stirrer at him for emphasis.

Cardan raises his eyebrows.

"Do I detect a hint of vexation, my dear?" he asks. "You're awfully harsh with me today." It's true. Cardan in the human realm is like a little kid, needing constant supervision and cajoling. Not for the first time, I pity his servants at home.

"Because you're awfully annoying today," I say, putting the ice cream away. "You've been whingeing all day, consider me vexed." Cardan just grins, and it's infuriating. I hate the way he lights up when I'm annoyed at him, and it makes me all the more mad.

"Stop smiling at me like that," I snap. Cardan only grins wider, and then suddenly he's scooping me off the bench.

"What are you doing?" I yelp, as I'm lifted into the air. He sets me down on the washing machine, slides his hands behind my hair, and kisses me softly on the mouth.

"Still annoyed at me?" he asks against my lips. "Yes," I say. He kisses me again, and although I don't approve of this as a method of getting back on my good side, nor can I quite bring myself to push him away.

"How about now?" he whispers. "Kissing me doesn't make you less annoying." I try to sound stern.

Cardan smooths his hands down the outside of my legs, pulls them around his waist, and moves his lips under her ear. "Are you sure?" he purrs. Damn him.

He kisses along my jaw, lifts my hands to his shoulders, wraps his arms around my waist, and then licks at my tongue as he kisses me again. My mouth opens automatically for him, and despite myself, I shiver under his touch. It's always, always like this with Cardan and it'll be the death of me. When his mouth curves against mine, I know that he knows it.

"Seems to be working, to me," he murmurs.

"And that makes me hate it all the more," I say, a last stab at irritation before I give up, grab a hold of the front of his t-shirt, and pull him back to me. Cardan laughs as he kisses me, and the movement of it is echoed in the movement of the increasingly active washing machine he has sat me upon. I am suddenly very aware of the vicious vibration of it beneath my thighs.

"For fuck's sake," Cardan says, "this thing feels like it's about to take off. It's like video of the rocket thingy Oak showed me." "Shhh," I tell him, and drag his lips back to mine. I tighten my legs around his waist, as the whine of the machine gets higher. Cardan raises an eyebrow.

"I thought you were annoyed at me," he says. "I am," I reply, and then continue kissing him. His skin is delicious, and I want to taste more of him. I move my mouth down his neck. "It doesn't feel like... Oh. Oh." He pulls back.

"Jude. My love." A wicked gleam comes into his eye. "Are you rather enjoying this here washing machine?" "I don't know what you're talking about," I said steadily. But then the machine speeds up again, is shaking steadily under me and a shudder goes through my legs.

"How very delightful," Cardan says, and I want to slap him. He puts his lips to my ear. "Are you turned on right now, sweet nemesis?" he asks. "Do you want me, you angry little thing?"

"Shut up," I say, but then Cardan's hand is sliding up my thigh, slipping under my skirt and even though it's broad daylight and a public place, it's exactly what my body wants right now.

He licks his tongue up the column of my throat, and as he does the lights go down in the laundromat. Magic hums in the air, as the glass front frosts over and Cardan's glamour fades. His tail winds its way around my calf, and I hear the click of the lock in the door.

"Oh come now," he says. "Is that any way to talk to your husband?"

I opened my mouth with a retort on my tongue, but then Cardan is kissing me again and I forget it. He yanks me onto to the edge of the machine and before I know what I'm doing I'm reaching for the button on his jeans.

Cardan pushes my underwear to the side and sinks into me with the most delicious moan. Even thought he doesn't move for a minute, the rocking of the washing machine moves us enough that we are clutching at each other desperately and trying to get closer. Cardan hooks his elbows under my knees and my hands fall back to catch myself as he tilts me up toward him, and then he's fucking me right there in the laundromat.

The double sensation of Cardan moving inside me and the vibrations flooding through us both is almost too much. My moans turn to screams, but they are hidden by the clanging of the machine, and then Cardan's thumb is hovering over my clit and the pressure building in my abdomen is now threatening to surge up my throat and pour out my mouth.

With no warning, Cardan lands a stinging slap across my backside, where it is lifted off the machine. This last push, the flash of pain amidst my pleasure is what has me falling over the edge and I hit my climax hard, barely aware of Cardan falling right behind me.

We just stay there while the washing machine slows and beeps to tell us the laundry is done. Finally, Cardan speaks.

"You know," he says, "I think I like doing washing after all." I roll my eyes at him. "So what comes next?" he asks, and that's when I get my own wicked grin.

"The dryer," I say, and suddenly I, too, am excited by the prospect of more laundry.

****

I'm deep in my Jurdan feels, can you tell? If anyone is interested, I'll start a Jurdan taglist separate from my Feysand one. Let me know if you'd like to be on it.

For now, I'll just tag @asteria-of-mars because you got me into this mess and now you have to be subjected to my feelings...

JURDAN MASTERLIST (there's not much on it but may as well get into the habit)

#jurdan #jurdan fic #tfota #mine #smut

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azrithart · 3 years ago

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Meet Lyandir, a disgraced faerie knight banished to the human realm with his cat (totally not a faerie dragon) He makes magical drinks at a coffee shop to pass the time, but waits for the day he can return home. His friends just kind of accept that his cat is weird, long, glows, and coughs up fire sometimes. But, y’know, pets can be weird like that. --- Please do not use or repost my art. Thanks!

#faerie #fey #eladrin #dnd #dnd character #dnd oc #dndoc #elf #elf oc #faerie knight #knight #faerie dragon #yeah thats a cat #tattoo #just a guy #lyandir #feywild #banished #azrithart

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anonniemousefics · 4 years ago

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The Nine Terrifying Moons | Masterlist

Based on the response to this post. :) Oh, yes, we’re doing the thing.

Cross-posted to AO3.

Fandom: The Folk of the Air | Jude + Cardan

Chapter One: The First

I am trying to keep my hands from shaking while I’m holding the test strip. There’s one pink line, and I’m waiting to see if there will be two. I think I already know the answer, but I’m holding my breath like it’ll make time go faster anyway.

If I ever imagined this moment, which I don’t remember ever doing, but if I did, I would have imagined it like the commercials that would run in the background when my mom would watch tv while she cooked dinner. If those were to be believed, I was supposed to be in an all-white, pristine, upper-middle-class bathroom, gasping with tears of joy while I hid my pearly white smile behind trembling fingers. My partner would be hugging me from behind, elated and definitely not about to make any crude jokes about the virulence of his sperm.

None of this is happening.

I am in a Target bathroom stall, surrounded by Target-red walls. Cardan, my husband and the High King of Elfhame, is on the other side of the red walls, trying to distract himself with the automatic paper towel dispensers. He’s waving his hand in front of it every couple of seconds; I can hear it each time the motor dispenses paper. I wonder how long of a trail he’s created at this point, but it’s the least of my worries.

“Cardan, you’re wasting paper,” I tell him anyway. He does it again once more; I can practically feel his petulant glare through the wall.

“How long is this meant to take?” he asks.

“It’s only been thirty seconds,” I tell him. “It takes two minutes.”

“I will die of old age by then,” Cardan mutters to himself, which I know he finds funny, because he’s immortal, and he waves his hand by the paper towel dispenser again.

I think I’m going to have a nervous breakdown.

Cardan had not been keen on this particular trip to Target, which is saying a lot, because he’s usually so fond of it. He had wanted to cut our trip to the mortal world short, head back to Elfhame and its royal healers and midwives and have me submit to their inquiries and tests, as all queens and lovers of the High Kings of Elfhame have before me.

But I just needed a minute to think. I needed to process this, with Cardan alone, and face the impossibly difficult questions we’ve been avoiding since this became a question. And if this is true, if I really am with child, with Cardan’s child, I don’t want the first people to know to be a bunch of faerie midwives. I want to tell Vivi and Heather. I want Taryn to know first. And I am filled with loathing when I think about how protected and insulated I’m about to become when the healers and midwives know. How the people will cease to see me as their High Queen and rather as the incubator for their Prince.

I want to eat an entire pint of Ben and Jerry’s. This is all happening so fast.

I glance back at the test strip. Stand and flush the toilet. Step out of the red walls.

Cardan’s raised his dark eyebrows, his hand arrested halfway to the paper towel dispenser again.

“Well?” He looks guarded, unsure of how he’s supposed to be reacting. I hand him the test and step up to the sink, turning on the water to wash my hands. I can see him in the mirror behind me, in his tight pants and boots, The Ramones T-shirt he’s borrowed from Vivi. He’s turning the test over and over in his hands, like he can’t tell which way is up. Same, honestly. My head feels like it’s detached from my body.

“It’s yes,” is the only dumb thing I manage to mutter as I soap up my fingers. Just like the commercials.

“How can you tell?” Cardan’s only looking more confused.

“The two lines.” I turn off the water and tear off part of Cardan’s paper towel train. “The two pink lines mean yes.”

Cardan looks up at me. His chest is hitching in shallow breaths.

“We should be celebrating,” he says, but it comes out like he’s trying to convince himself. So he tries again, squaring up his shoulders with a bit more enthusiasm. “We should be celebrating.”

“Mhmm,” I try to agree with a tight nod. I think I’m going to be sick. Again. Cardan searches my face, his gold-rimmed eyes flitting over the lip I’m worrying away at.

“You do not appear to be particularly celebratory,” he points out, but, then, neither does he. His cheekbones are tingeing red.

“It happened so fast, don’t you think?” My voice sounds almost breathless. It feels like a relief to point out, and that relief is contagious. Cardan’s shoulders sag a little bit as he lets out a breath.

“Lightning fast,” he agrees. He’s white-knuckling the pregnancy test.

“Careful -- I peed on that,” I point out, and, as if I’ve instead told him it’s on fire, Cardan hurls it into the trash with a disgusted huff.

I think for a moment about fishing it back out again, the only bit of evidence that I have that what’s going on inside of me is real. That the legacy we wished first wished for together in the dark, in each other’s arms, not even a month ago, is happening now and fast and there’s no going back. The time for second-guessing was over.

But a disconcerting combination of nausea and hunger hit me in the gut all at once, and I’m reminded that I have plenty of evidence and I’m only going to get more. If I really want to, I’ll just pee on another stick later.

“I need Starbucks,” I spout at the same moment Cardan sighs, “I need a drink.” And we share a quick smile.

At there’s still this. This has not changed.

And I should be enjoying that as we leave the bathroom and Cardan lifts the glamour he’d left at the door to give us some privacy. The “Out of Order” sign vanishes. But instead, I’m thinking of everything that is going to change. Of everything that ought to change, immediately, if at all possible.

I find myself unconsciously reaching for Cardan’s hand, and when I grab his palm and entwine our fingers, he’s squeezing mine back, hard. He knows. The worries and arguments past are resurfacing in his mind, too, and, for a moment, he wordlessly anchors himself to me.

We’re walking past customer service, following the alluring scent trail of coffee and baked goods, as I began to look at the other moms shopping. Their cute messy buns and their athleisure, pushing expensive strollers while their kids gnaw on the season’s latest teethers. And I’m struck, once again, by how much I don’t know.

Really, what are we doing here? Of all the people in all the realms, I think we are the last two people who ought to be becoming parents.

For one, I am an unrepentant murderer. Raised by an unrepentant murderer. Who murdered my own mother in front of me. This is not a person who ought to be cradling newborns.

And Cardan? The twice-cursed High King of Elfhame? Raised by house cats, beaten nightly by his own brother. Simultaneously spoiled and neglected. Is such a person even capable of cradling newborns?

And we’re about to be parents. I need to be reading more, I think. I need to have a plan. We never made a plan. We hadn’t had time to make a plan.

I pause a moment near the checkout lines, pulling Cardan to a stop beside me.

“I’m going to buy a few things first,” I decide in that moment. “Vitamins. Maybe some parenting books.”

“I don’t see the point,” Cardan retorts, straight-faced. “We have plenty of house cats.”

I narrow my eyes up at him as he smirks.

“That joke will be hilarious in a few weeks,” he tells me. “Just you wait.”

“I really doubt it,” I frown, and he’s still smirking when he drops my hand, stepping in front of me.

“My darling Jude,” he cups my face in his hands, and for a moment, his face is all I’m seeing. His expression is soft and tender across his beautiful features, and if our child is even half as good as looking, I am going to struggle to not let it have its way in all things. Or I’m going to want to strangle it. Some days, it’s a coin toss.

“You are the most fearsome and glorious creature I have ever had the privilege to behold,” Cardan is telling me. I’m struck once again by the marvel that he can’t lie and what he is saying must be true. In our five years of marriage, it is still sometimes hard to believe.

“And you will be the most fearsome and glorious mother,” he goes on. “I could not conjure up a more perfect mother for my offspring if I tried.”

“I think that says more about your lack of imagination than anything else,” I quip, but my cheeks are smiling in his hands regardless. He smirks back and quickly kisses me on the lips, once, twice.

“I am happy at this news,” he reassures me, as if he has sensed this whole time how overcome I am.

“I am, too,” I say, and I mean it. Truly. I’m a mixing bowl of emotions. My gaze drifts toward the store. “But we do need parenting books…”

Cardan kisses me quick one last time before releasing my face.

“I will procure your coffee,” he says, taking a step back, and it’s impossible not to look him over, his long, lean body in tight, black pants and worn t-shirt, his messy, black curls around the points of his ears. I have modern science to thank for keeping my womb empty these last five years. Chastity certainly had nothing to do with it.

“And Cardan?” I call after him. He turns. “A cake pop, too?” I ask, already in the clutches of a craving.

He looks intrigued.

“Is that what it sounds like?” he asks.

“Ball of cake on a stick,” I explain, kind of gesturing with my hands as if it will help. Cardan nods, determined.

“Then we will be needing several,” he declares before heading off toward the smell of coffee.

I shoulder the bag I borrowed from Heather and then stuff my hands into the pockets of the yellow sundress I’m wearing, one of a few mortal things of my own I keep at Vivi and Heather’s for visits. I’m on my way to the books section when I start to slow down near a display of newborn onesies.

It isn’t as though I never wanted to be a mother. I supposed there would come a day when I would have acquired all the knowledge one needed to be a mother, and then I would, I don’t know, award myself a medal or a pin and be declared Ready.

Taryn hadn’t been Ready. She would be the first to admit that. Not that I don’t love my niece with my entire heart. But Taryn’s daughter was a handful. Little Eva had been colicky and prone to getting her days and nights confused. For that entire first year, every time we saw Taryn, it seemed she faded a little more: the bags under her eyes greying, her auburn hair growing longer and frayed, everything but her breasts shrinking in size. Of course, it wasn’t permanent. Eva learned to sleep eventually, and to walk and eat and use a toilet, and, now that she was a robust and energetic five-year-old, Taryn was more like herself than she’d been in years.

Still. That first year, though.

Time and time again, Cardan and I would exchange glances while Eva squealed and squalled. It was always a silent No, thank you, please passing between us. We’re just fine without, thank you. Between the battle for the crown and undoing a curse, we’d had quite enough excitement, and so I eagerly welcomed Vivi regularly smuggling me little moon-shaped packets of pink pills from the mortal world. I took them each morning, like clockwork, with relish – it meant I could enjoy my freedom, our freedom as long as I wanted.

I’m not sure what happened in me. One day, I was calling it freedom. The next, it felt like an empty vessel.

We’d gone to visit Taryn and Eva at their estate for a summer solstice brunch. Vivi and Heather had come, and The Ghost was there, too, swapping stories and laughing with Vivi. I’d stepped out onto the terrace to call in Eva for food when I’d spotted Cardan. He was helping Eva climb up a tree, holding her hand while she balanced on a branch. Her wild fox hair was blowing in the late morning breeze that carried her giggle up to the house. Then she leapt at him with a delighted squeal, and he caught her and spun her around so that she squealed some more. And that look of sheer joy on his face when she did. His unguarded laugh echoed up through the grassy hills. I felt my heart crack open.

No, thank you, please suddenly felt very unadvised.

“What have I done to deserve such a face?” Cardan asked me, leaving a lingering kiss close to my ear. I guess I was looking a little amorous when he and Eva came inside. Little Eva was trotting off to the kitchens as I wound my fingers against the buttons of Cardan’s doublet, keeping him close for a moment longer.

“You looked happy,” I said as his hands slid around my waist. I looked up into his dark eyes, warm only for me, and saw he was smiling. “You looked like you liked doing fatherly things.”

He pulled me a little closer, a little tighter.

“I think I did,” he admitted, perhaps hardly believing it himself.

And then it happened. The unspoken shift, the change in the air. It seemed to crackle in the space between our gaze, and it took a fair bit of restraint to not pull him into the nearest coat closet and tear off his clothes. Taryn was calling us anyway. The servants had set the table, and no one would be seated until we had taken our chairs, even in this little family arrangement. Taryn was set on Eva learning courtly manners by example.

Courtly manners. By example. Taryn had the best intentions for Eva, but the phrases make me snort even now while I peruse baby clothes in Target. What example did we set in Faerie? One of murder and deceit and betrayal and lewd behavior.

The same day that I’d watched Cardan play with Eva, he abruptly ended dinner in the palace’s great hall to hoist me into his arms and carry me out, away from every one’s gaze, away from even the guards.

“What has gotten into you?” I kicked my feet and pounded at his shoulders – not particularly hard. Look, I’m not going to pretend this isn’t a game now. I could cause damage if I wanted to. I don’t.

Cardan set me on my feet, only to seize my waist in one arm. We stumbled into an alcove in the wall as his head dipped to my neck, his other hand catching us against the wall. Delighted shivers danced down my arms as his lips brushed the spot below my ear, and I couldn’t hold back a gasp.

“You couldn’t lie to me now even if you wanted to, wife,” Cardan murmured, kissing my ear. He wasn’t wrong. I ran my hands up his deep blue velvet doublet to his shoulders, and bent into his embrace. His hands began to roam my waist, my hips, pulling at my skirts.

“I’ll tell you whatever you like if you’ll keep doing this,” I whispered back, flushing. When he pulled back from my throat, there was a wicked, sneaking smile on his reddening lips.

“You don’t despise the thought of bearing my children,” he said, like it’s a revelation. I blinked. Had he been thinking about our previous exchange all day?

“I despise the thought of bearing any children,” I clarified. “It’s not some honor unique to you.”

Cardan gasped as if he was wounded.

“You could not have cut me deeper,” he teased, as I wound my fingers into the soft hair at the nape of his neck. “I thought I was special.”

“You are,” I said, tugging at his hair. “Because if I’m to bear any children at all, I would like them to be yours.”

The smile that spread over his face then was far from wicked. Cardan was flushed and delighted in a way few got to see, and his arms squeezed around me, lifting me to him as he crushed his lips to mine.

“Cardan,” I laughed against his fevered kisses, my cheeks hurting. “I didn’t mean right this second.”

His lips were swollen when he pulled back, the pupils of his gold-rimmed eyes blown wide.

“Then practice with me,” he said, his breathing ragged. “Like swordplay. You’re always saying I’m rubbish at practicing.”

“You really are,” I gasped against his mouth.

In the last five years, I’ve grown no better at resisting the pull of his desire. If anything, I’m only worse. I couldn’t think straight there in his arms. I wanted to drown in his contagious idealism. I wanted to be set aflame by his soft lips and his body against mine.

With my arms thrown over his shoulders, his lips slid against mine, over and over, our hearts pounding in time together. And then he lifted me off my toes so that he could push us both through our bedchamber door.

A shoe slipped from my foot, and he stumbled over it, kicked it to the side, without releasing my waist. Only when the back of my legs pressed against the bedframe did he pull back from my mouth, breathless. And then he pushed me back onto the bed.

I stretched out on the lush duvet, my whole body thrumming as my heart battered my ribcage. But when I looked up at his face there at the foot of the bed, his expression had darkened in the candlelight.

“What is it?” I pushed myself up to my elbows. “Why are you stopping?”

Cardan suddenly looked as if he was at war with himself. Even though his chest still heaved, he inched to the bed and stepped back again, his dark brows furrowing together.

“Cardan…?” I sat up, alarmed at his hesitation.

“Do you think I would be any good at it?” he blurted out. “At being a father,” he clarified, and winced as if he already knew and hated the answer.

I slid to the edge of the bed and reached for his belt. Pulled him closer.

“You are as equipped for the task as I am,” I said, looking up at him with what I hoped was a provocative smile. He slid his long fingers into my hair, and I needed him closer. “If you’re terrible at it, then I will probably be worse.”

I meant it in jest. He’d always liked this side of me before, my dark, warped cruelty. But this time, his fingers tightened suddenly in my hair.

“Shit.” The word slid out of him like it was being dragged. His hands dropped from my hair, and he stepped back to look at me. He drew in a sharp breath.

“You think I would be a terrible father,” he said, which was hardly fair. That wasn’t what I said at all. I sighed hard, ruing the direction this was going – further from the bed.

“I think neither one of us knows what a good father looks like,” I said. Cardan only gave a painful chuckle.

“We are both quite familiar with terrible fathers,” he said. “I think you, of anyone, would be able to recognize a terrible father when you saw one.”

“And that is the last time you will compare yourself to Madoc,” I said, in horror. “If that is the standard for terrible fathers, then you’re angelic.”

But Cardan gave me a look of slit-eyed skepticism, so I stood from the bed and stepped to him.

“And, really, what does it matter right now?” I asked, lowly, holding a hand to his face. He leaned against it. I was almost ready to start begging. “I am not falling pregnant tonight. We have time to learn these things, if we want to learn them at all.” I lifted onto my tip toes, brushing my lips to the hollow of his cheek.

“Just come to bed,” I whispered there, and I saw his eyes fall shut, his dark lashes against his sharp cheekbones, as he turned to meet the slant of my lips.

“I want to be good at it,” he murmured against my mouth, as I dragged him toward the bed.

“Then you will be,” I insisted just before he cradled the back of my neck, sinking into our kiss as we tipped toward the mattress.

We have time. It’s an easy lie to tell when you’re in Faerie. Time stretches on, limitless and unending. There shouldbe time, endless amounts of time, to learn all you need to know – about anything. There should be time to become the person you’d always wanted to be.

I had had two months since that first conversation. Even less time since the others. In Faerie, that’s hardly a lunch hour.

I am reeling. I’m in Target with a red basket full of prenatal vitamins and snacks and pregnancy books, and I am absolutely reeling.

After I check out, I find Cardan sitting on the curb with a Starbucks bag that’s the size of a large gift bag and two venti Frappuccinos. The one he’s nursing is strawberry-pink and looks full of cream.

“They didn’t have wine,” he tells me, handing me mine. It’s drizzled in caramel, and I’m not sure it’s what I would have ordinarily chosen, but right now, it smells perfect.

“Probably for the best,” I say, and hazard a glance at his expression. It’s dark and troubled again as he squints against the sunlight. His legs are drawn up, and he’s resting his elbows on his knees, like he’s hunched under a weight. Reality’s given him a hard jolt since he kissed me in front of the newborn onesies.

I take a long sip of the Frappuccino through the green straw.

“Cardan, if you don’t want to do this--” I start, and his head jerks up.

“I have always wanted this,” he snaps, looking defensive, and then he’s looking at his boots again.

“Okay.” I sit back, extending my legs.

How do I do this? I have no blueprint for this. Floundering, there’s only one rope I know to pull, the one that’s always saved us: honesty.

So, I go on.

“I’m terrified, too,” I say. I spread the yellow fabric of my sundress over my knees. “If that’s any consolation. I think I’ll be happy eventually, but right now, I’m completely freaking out. I can hardly form a coherent thought. How many cake pops did you get?” I cock my head at the large Starbucks bag.

Cardan shifts it in my direction.

“All of them,” he says, glumly.

I raise my eyebrows as I peer in the bag. Oak will be excited, at least.

“I hate myself for being so terrified of a thing I desperately want.” I look up at Cardan’s confession to see his face twisted in loathing, and my heart twists right along with it. I know this pain, the agony of fearing what you love.

I could lie to him; I probably should. I should tell him right now that I know without a shadow of a doubt he will be a perfect father, that he’s beyond everything that had been done to him, that none of it had ever touched me either. But I don’t lie to him anymore.

Instead, I hand him a cake pop.

“That strikes me as a waste of energy,” I say, and nudge him with a coy smile. “There are so many other things you could hate yourself for.”

He gives me a wicked smirk and, instead of taking the cake pop I’ve offered, he seizes my other wrist and takes a large bite out of the one I’d claimed for myself. Feigning exasperation, I stab at him with the leftover stick.

“Does this not strike you as problematic?” he asks a moment later, his cheek still full of cake.

“Yes.” I reply with a stoic nod. “The fact that you just ate a pregnant lady’s cake pop is both striking andproblematic.”

“I mean this repartee you and I enjoy.” He wipes at a bit of icing at the corner of his mouth with his thumb. “A child ought to know his father loves his mother and vice versa, should he not? I would think that sort of thing helps.”

I feel the heartbreak behind his words as if it were my own. In his mind, he’s now on an endless search for every moment in his childhood that went wrong, every little action he ought to do the opposite of. I know. My mind’s been doing it, too.

I scoot a little closer, nearing his warmth, so that I can lean against him. He rests his head on top of mine.

“But you’re my nemesis,” I say, softly.

“Jude,” he says it like he’s scolding. “Not in front of the children.”

“Do not say ‘children’.” I jab him again as he presses his lips to the top of my head. “Your wishes are too powerful, and there is room in here for only one.”

Cardan’s slipped an arm around me, and I tilt my head back to look at him. The corner of his mouth is tugging upwards, slyly.

“Tell me I’m too powerful again,” he murmurs as he kisses my cheek.

“Later,” I promise, and I reach for another cake pop.

There will be time for all that later.

It’s a lie I get used to telling.

------------------------------------

Tags. Let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list.: @yellowavocadopit

#jurdan #jude x cardan #the folk of the air #the cruel prince #the wicked king #queen of nothing #post-qon #fanfic #fanfiction #jurdan fanfic #tfota #jude duarte #cardan greenbriar #jude x cardan fanfic

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wheredidhiseyebrowsgo · 5 years ago

Note

hey! thank you for everything that you do! you are awesome. im just wondering if you any fic were Stiles is fae? thank you!

We sure do. - Anastasia

till the moon has taken flight (to the waters and the wild) by WindyRein

(5/10 I 1,426 I Not Rated I Steter)

It's not fair! But he knows already that life isn't fair, doesn't he? He can feel the bitter smile curling his lips.He, if there is such a thing anymore, floats and is torn apart and doesn't exist. (but that would be kind, wouldn't it?)

Bloody Secrets by cywscross

(1/1 I 3,085 I Teen I Steter)

Stiles has silver in his veins.

Peter could’ve done without finding out this way though.

Somewhere to Start by Lissadiane

(1/1 I 3,352 I Teen I Sterek)

An arranged marriage with an angry, sometimes furry dude with trust issues. It's all very Beauty and the Beast, without the singing candlesticks.

Dance Under the Moonlight by Therapeutic_Steter

(2/2 I 3,440 I Mature I Steter)

Fae!Stiles saving Peter from Pack's stupidity and washing his hands of them. Please?

The Other Side by Green

(1/1 I 3,769 I Explicit I Steter)

Stiles doesn't know anything about his father, only what his mother told him, that he's human. Despite her words, Stiles has had his doubts. So when the queen sends him through the veil, he's nervous and isn't sure what to think.

Seven Years Falling by InfiniteAlexisA

(1/1 I 3,880 I Not Rated I Sterek)

“I don’t mean to!” Derek yelled throwing his hands in the air.“DON’T YELL AT ME!” Stiles screeched, his entire body going up in flames.This is what Derek gets for dating a fire elemental.

we're not so different (you and i) by colferstilinski

(1/1 I 5,621 I Explicit I Sterek)

For many of the fairies that lives here, Utopia is their sanctuary—haven, in other words—and why shouldn't it be? It never rains on this stretch of meadow, the clouds in the skies always pink with interest and it smells like the breaking of spring every dawn and dusk.

Stiles detest it, the least to say.

It’s too much and he hates swinging along with the status quo with the other fairies. Yeah, with their blooming shades of colours and the shimmering, silken tunics they don on and fuck, the limitless sparkles. There’s even a new trend going on with the younger generation where they gather allium blooms to form a flower crown, oh—with added glitter!—and it makes Stiles wants to roll his eyes.

Or the fic in which Stiles is a fairy and wants to escape the horrendous, boring world of fairyland to have an adventure. And by adventure, he means meeting Derek. The plant. Or... not-so plant.

Cold Iron by the_problem_with_stardust

(5/5 I 5,641 I Teen I Sterek)

Derek thought the disaster that ended with Kate Argent almost burning down his family home was a relationship worst-case scenario. So, when Dr. Deaton reveals that his current girlfriend is not what she seems, Derek is ready to swear off romance forever. In an attempt to escape his well-meaning (but insanely overbearing) family, Derek volunteers to take over remodeling the small cottage that was left to the Hale siblings in his grandmother’s will. Connemara is nothing like California, and Derek feels like his luck just might be looking up.

salt and a waltz by The Byger (Byacolate)

(1/1 I 7,433 I Explicit i Sterek)

"Not that lubed-up Q-tips aren’t the sexiest thing in the world, but I kinda want to know what it’s like, you know. To be impaled on your huge dick without actually being impaled.”

“It was about to get sexy there, but you shot the mood right in the face.”

In which Stiles is a faerie and Derek is sick and tired of not being able to fuck him.

Don't You Wanna Be My Sky? by WhoNatural

(1/1 I 9,420 I General I Sterek)

He just didn’t have the tan.

(Or, in which Stiles is a Frost Fae sent to the Earth Realm on the Fae version of Rumspringa and immediately falls head-first into a Coffee Shop AU)

No Love in Idleness by Elpie (Horribibble)

(2/2 I 11,687 I Explicit I Sterek)

At first, Ser Derek is inclined to agree, but the little bird on his shoulder has quite a bit to say about that.

Trees are always a relief after dealing with people (except when they aren't) by ravelqueen

(1/1 I 15,889 I Mature I Sterek)

Derek Hale decides to become a hermit before he reaches 25. Too bad he picked Beacon Hills as his retirement home.

(Or the one where Stiles is a wood nymph/pixie/human hybrid who falls in love with his new grumpy werewolf neighbour)

Broken People Get Recycled by poemwithnorhyme

(1/1 I 16,389 I General i Sterek)

Nothing is ever just calm in Beacon Hills. No, something always has to go wrong, and this time, it's Stiles' turn in the spotlight. That doesn't mean he has to like it. Post S2 AUFae!Stiles

The Magic's in the Coffee by xxxillusionxxx

(8/8 I 17,596 I Explicit I Sterek)

Ever since the tall, muscled, leather-clad werewolf had begun his daily coffee routine at the Skullery—a horrendous name in Stiles’s opinion, but his boss was a skeleton who thought he was terribly clever—an impromptu competition developed among the baristas.

When Trust is Everything by hellbells

(12/12 I 27,913 I Teen i Sterek)

For a secret to remain true then only one person can know it; if not then it will come out. Beacon Hills is the converging point of several secrets all wrapped up in the supernatural. For Stiles, the unravelling of several will let him find peace, love and safety in the arms of his true mate. The only question is can he trust a Sourwolf and his pack well enough to show his true self.

It just might be the one thing between Beacon Hills and safety!

(Or observe the really awkward distrustful courtship between a Sourwolf and a hidden Fae Mage)

A Little Bit of Sunshine by 100KlicksAway

(21/? I 29,600 I Mature I Sterek)

Stiles woke with a start, dreams of pixies flitting around his head. He’d dreamed… He’d dreamed that he was a wolf? Or…. He wasn’t sure. Something with fangs… His mouth had been dripping blood in his dream, and when he woke, he could still taste the thick copper taste coating his mouth.

Stiles has been working hard for the pack since Scott was bitten. They leave him out more and more frequently, though, until Stiles realizes that he's strictly unnecessary. Then, the pack's activities throw him into danger and he ends up in a shitty situation with no one helping him.

Stiles leaves Beacon Hills. He doesn't care anymore, he just... Needs out.

The Last Chills of Winter by LeeHan

(1/1 I 42,525 I Explicit I Sterek)

“He didn’t magically charm me,” Derek shot back in his defense.“Oh, so he just regular charmed you?” Laura said with a smirk.“What? No,” Derek growled.“Was he hot?”“No! He just—“ He just had a laugh like a sun shower. Fuck.

We Follow Darkness Like a Dream by GreenasCole

(10/10 I 51,106 I Mature I Sterek)

When a mysterious note is left on the Stilinski's door it leads Stiles and his best friend Scott out into the woods on quest for answers about Beacon Hills's most infamous tragedy. After a surprise encounter with a monstrous wolf the two boys are hurled into an ancient and terrifying world, only for Stiles to discover he was secretly a part of it all along. Will he manage to survive the insanity of Fae politics and avoid the enemies that are suddenly crawling out of the woodwork to find a place in this new world? Or will the very revelation of his existence be the catalyst that plunges both worlds into war and chaos? And why can't Scott just stop teasing him every time he catches Stiles looking at their new "friend" Derek too long?

Laughter in the Dark by Starshaker

(13/? I 56,148 I Mature I Sterek)

Stiles is a fae. A trickster spirit with too much curiosity for his own good and a knack for getting into trouble. When he's just trying to help things don't go to plan and coincidences don't seem to end up for the better.Trapped, isolated and aching to get home, though it's better than what Gerard would have had planned for him initially, Stiles learns to deal with his new set of circumstances.

The Fairy's Wolf by kuki

(57/? I 90,602 I Explicit I Sciles)

In a world where non-humans mingle with humans in public schools until they became of age, about high school age, going instead to a specialty finishing school, a young halfling fae fights to stay with his friends. His fear of losing touch with his best friend, a young Alpha werewolf, has the pair pushing their relationship to the edge; and their relationship has the world on the brink of war.

-or-where I apparently ship Skittles hard now, hate myself with this work load on top of my school work, switch up species because f-u that's why, make up mythology, and try to give Derek a nice life.

Where You Still Remember Dreaming by yodasyoyo

(15/15 I 95,612 I Explicit I Sterek)

“What’s your name? I can’t keep calling you Balto.”

“What’s yours?”

“Stiles.”

“Lie.”

“Are you trying to tell me your real name is Stiles?”

Stiles runs his tongue across his teeth and considers Derek carefully. “Fair enough,” he says, “Miguel it is.”

Derek doesn’t look back, doesn’t hesitate, just raises a hand and flips him off on the way out.

#teen wolf #sterek #sciles #steter #stiles stilinski #peter hale #scott mccall #derek hale #fae!stiles

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someoneasgoodasyou · 5 years ago

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coffee shop AU and magical accidents! deckerstar please

(This is for this ancient writing meme. My askbox is here if anyone wants to shoot me a different combo!)

Oh shit this is going to get long because I had the MOST EXCELLENT idea and as soon as I finish this chapter of the hitman!AU I’m legit going to start working on this one.

SO. Coffee shop + Magical Accident AU:

This is not an all human!AU. I don’t know if Trixie will be in it. Probably not? It would just be too complicated and my brain can’t think of a way to make it work, as you will see.

Chloe is a human trapped in the fae realm. A long time ago, she accidentally wandered into a coffee shop she was not meant to be in, and bought a drink, and has been trapped ever since. She ended up working in the coffee shop, and she doesn’t hate it, but she wishes she weren’t trapped there.

Lucifer is the Devil, and he accidentally wanders into this fae coffee shop that he shouldn’t’ve been able to find, never mind cross the threshold. Because he’s the Devil, and already not human, he can’t be trapped there. Which is a good thing, because he doesn’t realize that Something Isn’t Right in this coffee shop for a while.

When he does, it’s because he has been flirting with Chloe for a while and is falling in love with her and is like “Chloe. I have to tell you something. I’m the Devil.”

And she’s like “lol I don’t believe sin Christian deities I’ve been working in this shop too long.”

And he’s like “??????? What does that have to do with anything?”

And she’s like “?????? I’m mortal?????”

And he’s like “yes, obviously?????????”

And she’s like “AND THIS IS A FAE COFFEE SHOP???????”

And he’s like “What the fuck faeries aren’t real.”

And she gestures around in exasperation and he’s like “…oh”

But she still doesn't believe he's the devil and he doesn't want to like devil face her because it would scare her and their friendship would be over because he’s a big dumb.

And he’s like “why are you here?”

And she’s like “I accidentally wandered in and had a drink.”

And he’s like “……..” And looking at his drink.

And she knows he isn’t mortal but she assumes he’s some kind of fae she never met before, so she’s like “lol what are you worried about?”

And he’s like “I’m the Devil, darling, it would hardly be fitting if I were trapped in the fae realm.”

And she’s like “oh, you.”

And eventually he finds out she’s Trapped and he loves her and This Can Not Stand.

So he drags her on an Adventure to the heart of the realm and is like HELLO GIVE THIS HUMAN BACK HER LIFE. PLEASE.

And the faerie queen is like “hmmm ok but only if you can hold onto her” and he’s like ??????????? And the faerie queen is like “go on, shoo, you’ll see”.

And he’s still like ??????? All the way back as he’s holding hands with Chloe (at some point she finds out he really is the Devil during this journey just F Y I). Chloe is all :( because she knows what that means, and she tells him, “when we leave, don’t let go” but her eyes are dim because she knows it’s impossible.

And so they leave through the coffee shop and Chloe turns into a bunch of beasts a la Tam Lin and Lucifer manages to hold on to her and she eventually stops and is human and he’s like “Darling! You’re free!!!!!!!!!!”

And she turns to him

And says

“Who are you?”

THE END

:) :) :) Let me know if you want to hear about the sequel :) :) :)

ETA: Sequel talked about here.

#writing meme #fae coffee shop #deckerstar #writing prompts #thank you for such a good combination!!!#Anonymous #asked and answered

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ladylillianrose · 4 years ago

Text

Extraordinarily Star-Crossed a Max Richman/Zoey Clarke Fanfiction

A/N: Thank you all for the love and support for this fic! We’re just about at the end, which is just crazy to think of!

San Francisco, CA 2020 Chapter 5

San Francisco, CA 2020 Chapter 4

San Francisco, CA 2020 Chapter 3

San Francisco, CA 2020 Chapter 2

San Francisco, CA 2020 Chapter 1

The Atlantic Ocean, April 1912 Chapter 6

The Atlantic Ocean, April 1912 Chapter 5

The Atlantic Ocean, April 1912 Chapter 4

The Atlantic Ocean, April 1912 Chapter 3

The Atlantic Ocean, April 1912 Chapter 2

The Atlantic Ocean, April 1912 Chapter 1

Paris, France 1792 Chapter 6

Paris, France 1792 Chapter 5

Paris, France 1792 Chapter 4

Paris, France 1792 Chapter 3

Paris, France 1792 Chapter 2

Paris, France 1792 Chapter 1

Florence, Italy 1485 Chapter 6

Florence, Italy 1485 Chapter 5

Florence, Italy 1485 Chapter 4

Florence, Italy 1485 Chapter 3

Florence, Italy 1485 Chapter 2

Florence, Italy 1485 Chapter 1

Greece 382 B.C.E. Chapter 6

Greece 382 B.C.E. Chapter 5

Greece 382 B.C.E. Chapter 4

Greece 382 B.C.E. Chapter 3

Greece 382 B.C.E. Chapter 2

Greece 382 B.C.E. Chapter 1

"So basically, we have one chance to break Aphrodite's curse, otherwise they will erase all our memories of each other," Zoey finished explaining. "Does that all make sense now?"

Max nodded slowly in understanding. He hadn't uttered a word throughout her entire tale, he just sat there silently listening.

"How's your head?" she asked, worried at how quiet he was.

"It's okay, a little sore still, but whatever Maggie did seemed to help. The memories are much clearer now," he replied, reaching for her hand.

"Zoey, I loved you even before I got all these memories back. I…"

"I know," Zoey interrupted him. "I know that you've been in love with me."

"Wait what? How?" Max looked at her in shock.

"Max there's something you should know...I was going to tell you the other day, but then I got distracted. I have musical powers."

"I'm sorry what?" he asked, disbelief coloring his voice.

"It's true. Right after I told you about the weird dreams I’d been having, you started singing to me," she explained.

"I sang to you?"

"You sang 'I Think I Love You.'"

Max blushed, unsure of how to respond.

"My powers let me hear people's innermost thoughts and feelings through song," she continued. "And at first your song and feelings scared me because I didn't want to jeopardize our friendship."

Max opened his mouth to reply but Zoey put a finger to his lips to stop him.

"Let me get this all out. But once I got my memories back and sorted, the only thing I could think about was you."

Max grinned at her, "So, what exactly are you saying?"

"I'm saying that there's no one, in any life, more important to me than you. You're my other half, my soulmate, my love," her voice cracked with emotion as she looked into Max's eyes.

"I've already lost you too many times, I won't lose you again. Not this time, I swear it," she said fiercely. "Aphrodite can throw whatever she wants at me, I'm not letting you go!"

Max couldn't contain himself any longer, pulling her into his arms, he captured her lips in a passionate kiss.

They broke apart breathing heavily, faces flushed with happiness.

Zoey cleared her throat, "We should probably go talk to the others."

Max nodded reluctantly, "I'm surprised that Tobin was patient enough to wait this long."

"He's one of The Fates, I imagine he’s much more mature than we give him credit for."

________________________________________________________________

"Pay up! I told you they wouldn't be able to keep their hands off each other!" Tobin crowed. He collected his winnings from Mo and Leif, slipping half of it to Demeter with a wink.

"You were saying something about maturity?" Max chuckled, raising his eyebrows at Zoey.

"Soo… how exactly are we going to take down Aphrodite?" Tobin asked as the couple sat down.

"I honestly haven't the faintest idea," Zoey replied.

"Well, you have just come into your demi-god powers, perhaps those might provide some assistance?" Maggie suggested.

“You mean that weird thing where I hear people singing?” Zoey frowned. “How did y...ahhhh I see, you’re Mo’s ‘mysterious source.’”

Maggie chuckled, “Guilty as charged. But yes, I’ve always suspected that your powers would be linked to music since it was your father’s musical talents that captured my heart,” she smiled.

"But how is music going to help us defeat a goddess?" Max asked.

Maggie smiled, "You would be surprised at the power of music."

Zoey looked confused, "So what, I get Aphrodite to sing and she suddenly tells me her weakness?"

Mo swallowed a laugh, "Now that I would pay to see."

"Your powers have been slowly growing throughout the years, I believe they first started appearing back in Florence. You said you heard someone playing the lyre, but there was no one around," Maggie explained. "At the time I was uncertain whether it had to do with your abilities, but now I'm certain it did."

Zoey frowned as she remembered that day.

________________________________________________________________

"What an interesting song, I've not heard it's like before."

Magdalena looked puzzled, "Song, m' lady?"

"Yes, the one just being played on a lyre from somewhere nearby. The tune was," she hummed the notes, "like that."

"M'lady there was no music playing, and that is the first time I've heard that tune," Magdalena explained, looking concerned.

Elena was confused, "You mean you didn't hear a lyre playing?"*

________________________________________________________________

She attempted to hum the melody allowed, looking to see if the others recognized the tune.

They looked at her blankly, unsure of what she was humming.

"Wait a minute!" Zoey stopped humming as she realized something. "It sounds an awful lot like the tune Joan was humming in her office earlier!"

"Joan was humming? Leif looked confused.

"Well, no probably not out loud. But when I went in there to ask her about it, a memory of my maid in Paris singing to me popped into my head," she explained excitedly.

"Do you remember any of the words she was singing?" Mo asked, pulling out his phone.

________________________________________________________________

"O I forbid you, maidens a',

That wear gowd on your hair,

To come or gae by Carterhaugh.

For young…"**

________________________________________________________________

Zoey recited the lyrics as Mo typed them into his phone.

"I've got it!" he pulled up the song and began to play it.

"The musicians were playing this song just as we got to the boat deck," Max recalled. "You looked confused when you heard it…"

________________________________________________________________

"Take the Bible in your right hand,

With God for to be your guide,

Take holy water in thy left hand,

And throw it on every side.

Cordelia froze, the melody was familiar, but the lyrics were unknown to her. How did she know this song? Had Mam sung it for her?"***

________________________________________________________________

"That's it, that's the one!" Zoey ran over to look at Mo's phone.

"The name of it is 'Tam Lin.' Wasn't there a woman who sang something about Tam Lin to you?" Mo asked.

"You're right, there was that woman right after the earthquake! She sang something about Tam Lin and Janet?" she frowned trying to remember.

"Okay, well since this song keeps coming up, it’s safe to say it has some connection to us," Max said nodding to Zoey. "The question is what exactly?"

Zoey shrugged, "I've never heard of this song or the name Tam Lin before."

Maggie looked pensive, "I seem to recall that Tam Lin had something to do with the Faerie Queen being thwarted by a mere mortal girl. We rarely interacted with the Faerie Realm, but gossip like that does make its way even to Olympus."

"Here it is," Mo said. "Tam Lin was a young mortal knight captured by the Faerie Queen. On Halloween, he was to be a sacrifice, but Janet, a young mortal woman who loved him, came to his rescue. The Faerie Queen transformed Tam Lin into all manner of beasts, as Janet held him close to her heart, refusing to let him go, no matter how hard he fought her. She wrapped him in her cloak, marking him as her own, and their love proved strong enough to defeat the Faerie Queen."

The group sat in silence staring at Mo. "Don't look at me like that, I'm just reading what it says!"

"I think we should do it," Zoey said.

"Do what exactly?" Maggie asked.

"Challenge Aphrodite. If I can hold onto Max while she transforms him into whatever she wants, then I will have proven our love is true and she has to get rid of the curse," she explained

"And what happens if you fail?" Leif chimed in.

"Then we drink of the River Lethe," she bit her lip worriedly. "Either way the curse is at an end. And I for one am not going down without a fight!"

"Do you think Aphrodite would go for it?" Max asked.

"A direct challenge, one which she's arrogant enough to think she can win? Yeah, she'll definitely agree to it," Tobin chuckled.

"And just where do you plan on having this epic battle of wills?" Mo asked.

Zoey thought for a moment. Where exactly does one have a battle with a Goddess?

"How about by the Lilypond in Golden Gate Park?" Max suggested. "There's enough space and it's tucked away a bit, so no one should bother us."

Zoey smiled at him, "Perfect! We'll meet there tonight."

"Tonight?!" everyone looked at her in shock.

"I want this over and done with as soon as possible! I'm not giving her the chance to try anything else," Zoey said, determinedly. "She's ruined our lives for far too long, it's time for this to end!"

They all nodded in agreement, the sooner Aphrodite's curse was broken, the better.

"I'll contact the Council of Goddesses, we'll need them there to witness," Maggie turned, and disappeared.

"Tobin, you and Leif go inform Aphrodite of the terms," Zoey directed.

"Why us?!" they cried.

"The last time Max was anywhere near her she tried to seduce him. I nearly clawed her face off at the coffee shop, and Mo had to drag me out of there. Safe to say none of us should be going anywhere near her, which only leaves you two."

"Fair enough," Tobin agreed. Snapping his fingers he and Leif disappeared.

"Wait, coffee shop?" Max looked at Zoey confused.

"Oh yes, Aphrodite has been posing as Autumn to try and get her claws into you again, " Zoey shook her head in disgust.

"Autumn? Barista Autumn? The one who always remembers my drink?" Max cried.

"Max, your drink is a black coffee, it's really not that hard to remember. But yes, that Autumn," Zoey chuckled.

"Huh….Guess we'll need to find a new coffee place then. "

________________________________________________________________

A/N:

* Chapter 9

** Chapter 17

*** Chapter 22

#clarkeman #clarkeman fanfiction #max x zoey #zoey x max #max x zoey fanfiction #zoey x max fanfiction #max richman #zoey clarke #zoey's extraordinary playlist #zoey's extraordinary playlist fanfiction #zoeysplaylist #zoeysplaylist fanfiction #zoeys playlist #zoeys playlist fanfiction #fanfiction #Extraordinarily Star Crossed

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faeryqueenwitch · 6 years ago

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☁️Liminal Zones: Thresholds Between Worlds ☁️

🌈 The slice of seacoast between low and high tides, the deepening foliage between field and forest, the sloping land between plain and mountain- these in- between places are known as liminal zones. Dawn and dusk, the times between day and night, fall into this category too. Neither wholly one thing nor the other, they serve as bridges that lead from one realm into another. Because of their transient nature, their ambiguity, and their sense of mystery, liminal zones are often the best places to meet fairies and to experience magic.

Art By @prinsomnia

☁️ Fairy Doors ☁️

🌈 In ancient times, fairy doors were portals between the realm of the fairies and the human world. Most of the time, mortals are denied access to fairyland. But at certain times of the year, people could catch a glimpse of the spirit world through these openings. A fairy door might resemble a pathway through heavily wooded area, a narrow entrance into a cave, a gap in a stone wall, or a knothole in an ancient tree. Shamanic journeys sometimes begin with entering portals such as these in order to visit unseen worlds.

☁️ “Come away, O human child! To the waters and the wild With a faery, hand in hand For the world’s more full of weeping than you can understand”. - W.B. Yeats, The Collected Poems

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Ann Arbor’s Fairy Doors:

🌈 In April 2005 , an architectural anomaly - a miniature door- mysteriously showed up near the entrance of a coffee shop in Ann Arbor, Michigan . Over the next year and a half, nine more little doors- dubbed “fairy doors” materialized at various locations throughout the city. These handsome entryways, usually no more than a foot high, are believed to have been created by artist and children’s book author Jonathan B. Wright, perhaps as a way to alert humans to the presence of fairies in urban environments or to give urban fairies access to art galleries , boutiques, and other interesting places throughout the city. Since that time, some of the establishments have closed and the fairy doors have disappeared as well. But that doesn’t mean they’re gone for good- who knows when another fairy door might appear. perhaps in a location near you. To view these tiny treasures, visit Wright’s website, www.urban-fairies.com.

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SOURCE: “Fairies The Myths, Legends & Lore” By: Skye Alexander

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alexmaladi · 5 years ago

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@unfaerie lets do this dance!!

it’s not like she’s never been tempted. i mean flowers falling in reverse, the gleam of sunlight on water drops, what looks like stars, at eye level? it’s enchanting. and isn’t that the problem? faeries are designed to draw the unsuspecting in, glamour all their warts and hypocrisy in a fine line of TEMPTATION. and every day, alex has turned the other way. she wants no part in their world. hell, she wants no part in THIS world either, but really, what’s behind door number three? today, it’s really mostly because she’s bored. there’s a little nook of a doorway in between the old coffee shop and the bike rental that closed down years ago that alex has never really seen another fae enter. PERFECT. she just wants to be alone. her dad is home (she saw his car in the driveway), some punks found her spot by the lake, and the school’s annual whatever-a-thon just HAS to be the eighth level of hell the poets talk about, so this time when the fae realm sings to bring her in, she enters. it feels different. light in a way she hasn’t felt in forever, but if her mother taught her one thing, and one thing only: it’s never trust a fae. not the being, and sure as hell not the realm. her hands come up to ghost over some of the greenery that lines the aisle, but come just short of touching. not that it would be ‘bad’ to be trapped somewhere other than kings grove, but she’ll be damned if this means interacting with the courts. it’s weird, because it’s not like she hears it. there’s no cracking of leaves underneath shoes, no breathing wafting through the wind. she just KNOWS. knows someone is there, and it has her twirling quickly, defensively at whoever it is that’s caught her snooping. she’s not scared per se, but her defenses are definitely up. “ is this the part where you give me three riddles to cross the bridge? because i don’t do games. ”

#unfaerie #alex: *is literally a fae and references what is absolutely trolls*#iss gonna be a long road but we GETTING to a solid relationship #hey now hey now this is what dreams are made of #* i was hoping i'd be ready for the fall / starters.

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matchappucino · 5 years ago

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File: 003 - The Fae

『🐉』”It seems I have...yet again, been uninvited. No matter. Tell me then--what is your wish?”

Name: Rhysand Draconia

Faceclaim: Malleus Draconia (Twisted Wonderland)

Age: 500/looks around 25

Height: 202cm/6′6

Weight: 193 lbs/87.5kg

Species: Faerie

Short Description: A tall and slender-looking young man, Rhysand is a descendant of the fae.

Birthday/Zodiac: January 18 | Capricorn

Occupation/s: Jury of the Diamond Court (Fae) | Owner of The Bazaar, a magical shop/bar that changes its inventory according to the customer | Bartender

Gender: Male

Sexuality: Homosexual

Significant Other: None

Position: Sensual Dominant. He focuses on his partner’s pleasure rather than pain, and if there will be spanking and hair pulling doled out, it is because his partner begged for it, and he is very indulgent--and the discipline always fits the sin.

When one of his past partners requested biting and letting him swallow some of his blood, it unlocked a sadistic tendency in Rhysand that he never knew existed. If a sub is being bratty, he won’t hesitate to degrade and bite them (but always done out of love)

Family and Friends: Rhysand has few friends within the Fae court because of his appearance and upbringing. He has a close relationship with his grandmother, father, mother, and butler. Unknown to him, his mother was a human who was kidnapped and brought to the Faerie realm. He kept her until she forgot her past life and “went native.”

His grandmother is a powerful sorceress who was as elegant as she was dark and devious.

Perhaps the best friend Rhysand has is his pet raven, Sebastian. As a young boy, he took an interest in the ravens the clan would raise as messengers. He asked for an egg and raised it himself. Sebastian has become his “eyes and ears” when he is uninvited to events, and is as old as the Fae himself.

Physical Description: Rhysand has pale skin, glowing green eyes, and dark hair. It’s long and covers his nape, reaching to his lower back. He has horns and often tells people they’re free to touch them, but he isn’t responsible for the reactions that may occur.

(In the human world, people see them as a headdress.)

Backstory: The Draconia family has had a seat of honor in the Diamond Faerie Court for centuries. Morrigan Draconia, Rhysand’s grandmother, is a Court Knightess and upon her retirement, named her son, Phillip Draconia, as her successor.

When Phillip became aware of the corruption that lay within the Moissanite Faerie Court, he took it upon himself to hide Rhysand’s existence from Faerie Court duties until his son had more control over his magic. It was a risk that paid off in spades, as his abilities is renowned as among the strongest in the world.

Rhysand has a powerful aura, making humans and fae afraid of him, and unwilling to approach him.

Deeply introverted, he is often uninvited to events and ceremonies. As a result, he is unable to interact properly with others in social situations. He does better with smaller groups of people. Put him in a party and he’ll be in the corner or in the garden admiring the flowers until it’s over. One of his favorite hobbies is taking long walks in the forest and exploring abandoned places.

Ongoing Story: After the Diamond and Moissanite Courts became aware of his existence, Rhysand received tempting offers to marry powerful faeries from both courts. However, the young fae had no interest in women--his other alternative to continue the Draconia line is to either have a surrogate or to create a changeling. As faeries have long lifespans, he doesn’t worry about having to do this anytime soon.

He visits the human world often and poses as a bartender, peddling information, goods, and sometimes sex for his own amusement. The people think generations of Draconian men have been working as the owner for many years--when in reality it’s just Rhysand.

When the shop is closed, that means he’s fulfilling his duties in the Diamond Faerie Court. For the moment, Rhysand lives a comfortable life, though his dealings with shady people and supernatural beings has left him quite guarded.

Likes: Ice cream, Long Island Iced Teas, string instruments, and promises.

Dislikes: broken promises, being manipulated, liars, accessories and weapons made of iron

Strengths: Defense magic, loyal, intelligent, altruistic

Weaknesses: Introverted, socially awkward, prone to possessive behavior (when in a relationship)

Defense Mechanism/s: Avoidance and disassociation. Rhysand doesn’t like confrontation and it takes him awhile before he will actually want to communicate with his friends or partners. Whether it is a few hours alone in a coffee shop or leaving town for a week, the fae needs time to clear his head before talking it out calmly.

Otherwise, he could just hear a lot of lies and broken promises--never a good thing with a Fae...

Biggest Fear/s: Being used, deep water

Extra: When Rhysand makes an appearance, fireflies surround him or the area he’s currently in. The fae tries not to eat meat as much as possible, preferring a diet of fruits, vegetables, whole grains, and desserts.

#the fae #rp-box #faceclaim: malleus draconia

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mittensmorgul · 6 years ago

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I wrote a post last night about the Monster of the Week in 14.15, Chip Harrington, and what made him monstrous:

http://mittensmorgul.tumblr.com/post/183465650390/so-can-we-talk-about-this-monster-of-the-week-for

But I want to look at this from another direction, because Chip’s self-described origin story-- what drove him to monstrosity-- is fascinating and relevant to the larger narrative (and especially to those of Cas, and Jack).

I’d been considering waiting until the transcript posted, but I’m not that patient, so I transcribed it myself. I know this is a long scene, but there’s a lot of important details in here. Rather than transcribe it and then quote blocks of it again with my comments, I’m gonna put my comments in brackets between sections of dialogue here, but the actual quoted dialogue here is one continuous conversation, just for the record:

Cas: So you did this. Chip: What, did you think it was the milkshakes? [laughs]

(well, yeah, we did think it was the milkshakes, or the water, or the food in general, because Faerie Rules, and Sam ate and drank while Cas didn’t)

Cas: What are you?

(And isn’t that just the question of the season? What is your identity, who are you, please explain yourself...)

Chip: Well, I kinda like to think of myself as a Good Samaritan. You know, I’ve always been lucky. I’ve always had an intuition about what people were gonna do, or say. It made me the king of poker night. But then, the mill shut down. And this town, the town I love, it started to die. Then my sweet wife, she passed away. And the world kept getting worse, and they called it “modernization.” And no matter what I did, people would turn to drink or drugs, and move away. They just weren’t happy. Things kept getting worse, and I started to hear noises-- voices. And I screamed at these voices! I said, “Just make things better!” And you know what happened next?

(he began to hear VOICES. Like, his life-long sense of “intuition” was magnified after the loss of his wife and his growing dissatisfaction with the state of the world. This sounds very much like a spiral into bitterness and depression, probably magnified by the intuitive stuff he picked up from everyone around him. The thoughts he’d pick up from a thriving town full of happy people, and from his wife who loved him and was happy with him, and from happy customers at his soda shop, would’ve probably given him a lowkey life-long “high,” you know? And then when the town around him began to change after people lost their jobs, the entire energy of the town would shift, and his source of “secondhand happiness” that he’d come to think of as his OWN would’ve not only dried up, but would’ve been replaced by a constant stream of negative feelings and thoughts that he picked up just as subtly, not even realizing it was affecting his own mental state)

Cas: No, but I have a feeling you’re going to tell me. Chip: The very next day, I thought-- just thought-- “I wish there was more people in the soda shop.” And I came in here that day, and it was packed. And that’s when I figured it out. I can make people do whatever I want.

(it took him this long to realize that the “voices” went both ways, and that instead of the woes of everyone in town being inflicted on HIM through his psychic ability, he could turn it around and inflict HIS thoughts on THEM. Suddenly could force everyone else to be happy to feed his own subconscious addiction to that vast pool of human energy, so he crafted it to fit HIS needs instead.)

Cas: So you’re some kind of mind-control psychic? Chip: I re-made this town. I gave everybody new names, new lives. I made everybody happy. Well, most everybody. And the ones that fought it, well... Cas: You murdered them. Chip: I was just protecting my home!

(Protecting his home, i.e. protecting his own mental state, which was entirely dependent on his environs because of his psychic abilities that he just couldn’t turn off, because of what he is.)

Cas: [to Sunny]: And you-- you knew all about this. Chip: Well, she knew enough to play along, but uh... my tricks never worked on Sunny. She’s too much like me. Sunny: I am nothing like you.

(she might have his psychic abilities, but she is clearly miserable in her father’s idea of a psychic utopia. His idea of happiness is nothing like hers)

Chip: [to Cas] But you, why can’t I change you? Cas: Because I’m not human. Chip: Oh. [chuckles]

Is it all really that simple? I think there’s a lot more complexity going on here. After all, the way Chip describes the “voices” he heard growing more clear sounds an awful lot like Angel Radio in some respects. We know how that can sometimes affect Cas. I’ve always been under the impression that Angel Radio has always been like... background noise most of the time to angels. There’s always a low-level awareness of everything from angels deliberately communicating with one another to human prayers and, um... longing. But it’s always also seemed that Cas (and other angels) didn’t always focus on it. They could disregard it, or at least not devote their full attention to it all the time. There’s even the time during 8.08 where Cas said that he’d “turned it off” entirely.

But there’ve also been times when something came across the frequency so strongly that angels have been all but incapacitated by it:

in 12.08 when the news of Jack’s conception came across to him and he dropped the coffee cups

in 4.09 when Cas’s cry of DEAN WINCHESTER IS SAVED came through loud enough to switch on her dormant Angel Radio antenna

12.10 when Benjamin prayed to the rest of his flight and Ishim, Mirabel, and Cas all froze in place to listen

13.01 when Jack overheard angel radio for the first time and was all but paralyzed by it, driven to violence because of it

And that’s just off the top of my head. I included the one about Jack deliberately here... but more on that in a moment.

Of course Chip doesn’t know how to deal with this sort of psychic reception from all around him. He’d never given it much thought before it began to hurt him rather than help him. And the fact that he can turn around and inflict it onto others for his own comfort, and that he would inflict it on others and assume THEY were happy just because HE was happy, because that’s always how it worked before... is just horrifying.

I’d also like to throw in the reminder of Cas’s last meeting with a psychic who was unable to “read” him. In 10.17, after Oliver told Cas he couldn’t be an angel because he was an atheist, he shared this:

PRYCE: Was me. I don't do the psychic stuff no more. Being around people, it's kind of . . . Hell. All those brains yapping all the time drives a guy bananas. CASTIEL: Because you can hear everyone's thoughts. PRYCE: Well, not yours. All I'm getting from you is . . . colors. But the hippie over here? I'm seeing some creep-ass hobbit-lookin' fella, a prison cell?

Not only did he share the relatable tidbit about avoiding other people because of the effect of picking up all their thoughts, the only thing he picked up from Cas was “colors.” Nothing specific as far as thoughts go, but psychic wavelengths that he interpreted as color.

And through all the people in town that Chip controlled, he never really could get a read on Cas, either. He picked up Sam’s wavelength right away, just like Oliver Pryce did, but Cas remained a puzzle because like for Pryce, he was just entirely out of the realm of their experience. He didn’t fit in their preconceived box. Pryce expected “normal human thoughts,” and Chip expected “type of happiness I understand and can exploit for my own personal gain.”

Chip... could not conceive of how to make Cas “happy” by his own definition.

And this finally leads me back around to Jack, and his episode-long struggle to understand why Felix the Snake was “sad.” Why he wouldn’t eat and seemed lethargic and sluggish. Jack... had no true intuitive read on the snake’s feelings. Maybe it just hated the tiny plastic box Jack had it in. Maybe it was just too cold. Reptiles need outside warmth to be active, and won’t eat if it’s too cold to bring their body temperature up enough for digestion. But Jack was treating it as if it were a sad person instead of a snake with needs that he was clearly not meeting. Road trips may have cheered Jack up in the past, but snakes don’t generally like that sort of thing. Nor do they like crunch cookie crunch.

Felix was just as much a puzzle to Jack as Cas was to Chip. And like Chip, when Jack couldn’t make the snake be happy, he gave up and blew up its head disintegrated it, as if it was an act of mercy when it was anything but. Just like Chip insisted that killing the people that fought against his mind control was done to “protect his town,” when really it was to protect himself.

And now that we have that out there, I’m gonna skip over the fight scene to Sunny’s confrontation with her father (back to my previous format of commenting in parenthesis between the text):

Sunny: You killed Conrad! Chip: No! You told him the truth, and that’s why he ran. And that’s why I did what I had to do. You killed that boy, Sunny, not me.

(YIIIIIIKES. First off, my Worst Thing To Say Ever On Supernatural-- “I did what I had to do.” And second, he blamed his own daughter, who fell in love with someone in a way Chip didn’t approve of, and told him the Big Truth about what was happening in town, for her lover’s murder. If she’d only obeyed and kept the secret and followed his orders unquestioningly, everything would be just fine! How ironic is it that the ONE person in town who was immune to his powers and that he couldn’t “read” the way he did everyone else was the only miserable one in a five mile radius? And that she was the one person you’d think Chip had a vested interest in actually ensuring her happiness, because she was his child. But nope. He was so disconnected from reality that he couldn’t even relate to her aside from how she could serve him. And that’s just... a horrific glimpse of parent-child dynamics on this show.)

[meanwhile inside the soda shop, a donnybrook ensues, and eventually Cas talks Sam around, breaking Chip’s psychic hold over him, because Cas was unwilling to actually hurt Sam in order to stop the fight. He used his words... after they recover they run outside to see Sunny’s confrontation with her father]

Sunny: You’re sick. Chip: Well, but you stayed. You didn’t even try and stop me.

(YIIIIIIIIKES now he’s not just blaming her for her lover’s murder, but for everything else he’s done. As if it were her responsibility as his child to do so. As if this was a black and white choice, and that not stopping him was equivalent to her full complicity in his actions)

Sunny: I promised Mom that I wouldn’t leave you, but you’re a monster. [Chip grabs her arm and pulls her closer] Chip: No. No. In this town, I’m God.

(haaaaa, Sam runs out and shoves him away from Sunny. She’s got her father pegged now. It was a promise to her dead mother that kept her there, despite her father ruining her life and destroying the man she loved for his selfish pursuit of his personal idea of happiness. Because he’s really not god)

Sam: No, you’re not. Believe me. We’ve met God. Cas: God has a beard.

(YOU TELL HIM, CAS)

At this point, Chip breaks out a new set of psychic powers we didn’t know he had, and flings Cas across the sidewalk Angel Mojo Style. Only making the parallels to Angel Radio earlier seem even more apt. I mean, this also harks back to Sam’s own experiences with psychic power in 1.14-- and heck the pain caused by his visions seems also relevant to the more cataclysmic angel radio events I listed above-- but specifically the fact that when faced with enough of a threat, Sam moved that heavy piece of furniture blocking the doorway with his mind. And obviously we knew Chip was using his psychic powers to explode people’s noggins Scanners-style, but this makes him look... terrifyingly angelic. Kinda makes one wonder if this might be some sort of psychic gift that has passed down their family from... perhaps from a nephilim ancestor generations and generations ago, you know? Not that this is The Truth, but the powers are similar and it makes one wonder...

He then turns and attempts to use the power that wouldn’t work on Cas-- namely the head-exploding-- on Sam, but Sunny can’t stand by and watch him actively kill someone. She breaks out her own gift, that she’d apparently never used on someone else. She tells Chip to stop, and when he doesn’t do it of his own free will, she says it again, with power behind it. He may not have been able to use his psychic powers on her, but she was able to use hers on him.

This first reminded me of every other Crypt Scene we’ve ever seen, including Cain’s description of what made HIM stop killing originally and retire-- Colette asked him to stop.

But it also reminds me of another Psychic Children episode: 2.05. Andy Gallagher’s similar variety of mind control to Chip’s didn’t work on Sam, and his twin Ansem’s psychic influence didn’t work on Andy. But when push came to shove, Andy resorts to shooting his brother to stop him from killing Dean. But now Sunny is actually able to force her father to do her will instead. She proves she’s nothing like him, because instead of killing him, she locks him into a state of perpetual happiness inside her own mind. After she stops him, she’s horrified:

Chip: See? I told you! you’re just like me! Sunny: No. You hurt innocent people. You want to be happy? Then be happy. [she forces him to be happy]

Which is a callback to what Cas offered Fred Jones in 8.08:

FRED: You want to know what's the worst thing that can happen to a guy that's got a mind like I got? Losing it.

Because that’s kinda what happened with Chip. Not that he was suffering from a loss of control, but that all his filters had just... disappeared. Happy townspeople, thriving town, loving wife focusing that good feeling on him all the time. But Cas offered Fred a solution and explained what it would mean for him, which was kind of the opposite of the solution Sunny forced on her father:

FRED: Now I'm good. In a month, year... [sighs] Nobody gets sharper with age. I'm gonna lose control again, and somebody's gonna get hurt... again. [sighs] You got to make it stop. CASTIEL: There might be a way. The procedure will be painful, and... when it's over, I'm not sure how much of you will be left. FRED: [takes a deep breath and then speaks decisively] Well, what are you waiting for?

Rather than risk hurting anyone by accident because he was losing control of his powers, he eagerly allowed that part of himself to be removed so he could relax in the relative comfort of his own mind, knowing he was leaving the world better. He was... happy... even without his powers.

Sunny just... stopped Chip from using his power and locked him up in the vision he’d tried to create in reality, to remain unaffected by the people around him while they all go back to their normal lives-- happiness, misery, and everything in between.

And as Cas lays a hand on Chip’s head to answer Sam’s question that Sunny struggled to, because she didn’t know exactly what her power did to Chip, with an aside to mention that Cas was framed in the background behind Chip when she said, “Then be happy!” and thank heck her powers don’t work on him. But really, Cas is choosing to do the exact opposite for himself, because he can still make that choice for himself, which is an interesting flip here:

Cas: She made him happy. Your father is trapped inside his own mind. He’s in a world that... it’s a beautiful world, but it’s a place where he can never hurt anyone again. Sunny: Good.

There’s so much parent/child horror mixed up in this, with their current parental dramas surrounding Jack, and the vision of “paradise” that Jack gave Cas back in 12.19. That was also a “beautiful world” where there was no struggling, no war, no anger... but it was equally as unreal as this vision that Chip is now trapped in. But it sounds like it wasn’t even Cas’s idea of happiness, by the way he described it to Kelly in 12.23. He seemed more shaken by it, given his greater understanding of what Jack literally brought into the world with him-- ie the rift directly to The War World, and AU Michael and all the horrors that have resulted from that. And none of that was Jack’s conscious doing, but his birth brought that forth anyway.

Just as Michael’s narrative purpose has sort of... ended, now that he escaped Dean’s mind fridge, and just as Michael’s purpose in this universe was thwarted when the Apocalypse didn’t happen back in 5.22 and left our Michael catatonic and broken in the cage (according to Lucifer), and just like Lucifer became listless and bent on rage-fueled destruction without any other purpose after Chuck left the world again, Jack is facing that same sort of purposelessness and fundamental loss of identity in the wake of having achieved his purpose of defeating the evil his creation brought forth into the world. Defeating it changed him, and it remains to be seen if he’s any better equipped to deal with that change, and that loss of purpose, than Michael and Lucifer were.

And this also brings up all the questions of Cas, his identity, his abilities, his state of being, and his happiness, and what the consequences of him choosing that happiness might mean for all of that... and for his very existence if the Empty has anything to say in the matter.

And I got all this from the realization that Chip’s powers were a wee bit angel-y.

#spn s14 spoilers #spn 14.15 #spn 5.22 #spn 12.23 #spn 12.19 #spn 8.08 #spn 1.14 #spn 2.05 #spn 10.17 #jack nougat winchester #castiel winchester #you learned it from the goats #spn 12.08 #spn 4.09 #spn 12.10 #spn 13.01 #on the nature of angel grace #angels and souls

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