#hides the part of her face that gives away her 'demonic' heritage? check

[bonobos-central]

It's so fucked up that the show I just watched has so many parallels to Vaulk. How could they do that to me

[beskarberry]

Blue Orchid

Flowers for Ishtar, Chapter 1

(Nonhuman!Mando x f!Reader) [+18!]

You’d had to bite down on the corner of your blanket when you thought of him pinning you to the wall or bending you over the dashboard, stuffing you full of his length while he groaned his praises in your ears until you were soaked.

This was not at all what you had imagined.

Next->

Summary: You discover your hunting partner isn't human, which in a galaxy far, far away isn't that strange until his alien needs become too much for him to hide.

Rating: Explicit as FUCK

Word count: 9.2k

Content warnings: Major kinks: breeding and pregnancy, eggs and oviposition, mpreg/fpreg, alien genitalia. Minor kinks: praise, eating and weight gain. Kink sprinkles: threw some things in like just a tad of sex pollen, hair pulling, spanking, a very brief daddy kink, the idea of a/b/o. There's a few more but if you're familiar with my writing you know what's up. Negatives: body horror, dysphoria.

A/N: Yeah... um... hm... So this is some weird shit but if you enjoyed Garden of Ishtar this will be right up your alley. If that was weird and creepy for you then this is not for you! You have been warned!!!

There’s something strange going on with your partner.

Mando, as he insisted on being called, even though that was clearly not his real name, had been acting differently recently. Though he was an odd one from the get-go, the burly, short-tempered, efficient hunter took some getting used to, but now something about him was off.

It was a strange partnership you’d gotten yourself into, ever since that day you had been sitting in the same cantina booth as him on Nevarro, arguing with Karga over the last available bounty puck.

“Karga, I’m not splitting a puck with this guy.” You’d barked, crossing your arms and leaning back with a huff. Next to you, the armored stranger grunted in agitated agreement, his plated shoulders catching the light as they stiffened. You didn’t know each other, and as far as you could tell the only thing you both had in common was that you both worked for the Guild.

“Well that’s too bad!” The old agent stated, shaking his head. “This is the last one I’ve got until next month, so unless one of you wants to wait until then, this is all I have left. You're going to have to work together as a team.”

“Unless I kill her first.” The iron giant said coldly, not even looking your way.

“I’d like to see you try.” A knife flew from your belt to the table as you buried the tip of it in the faux wood counter, glaring daggers with your eyes at his shiny metal head.

“Easy now, we’re all friends here! Can’t have my two best hunters fighting, or killing each other…”

“Bullshit, I’m the best hunter here, Kargsy, and you know it.” Fury seethed from your words, but it was seemingly lost on the other man. “Tinman here can go fuck himself.”

“You kiss your mother with that mouth?”

“No, but I fuck yours with it!”

Greef slammed a fist down on the table, making the trio of spotchka glasses bounce and spill. “That’s enough, either you two figure out how to play nice or neither of you will be getting this puck, or any other pucks for that matter! And that’s final!”

That was six months ago.

Despite your differences, the pair of you made for a terrifying duo, between his heavily armored body and your quick, nimble blades, it was like hell itself had released its most deadly demons. The bounty was found, hunted, and captured so quickly and easily that the minute the Razor Crest touched back down on Nevarro you were both excitedly harassing Karga for more.

Your newfound companion didn’t talk much, but what he didn’t say with his words he made up for with his actions. He gave you a little backstory, filling you in on his Mandalorian heritage and what that meant regarding his helmet and armor, and you were fine with the condition that he would never show his face around you. What he did show you was how lethal he could be, a whirlwind of blasters and beskar, an immovable object that coupled neatly with your unstoppable force.

It was poetry in motion.

Bounties fell at your feet like wheat before the scythe, wracking up credits like Kessel-running smugglers which you both blew on firearms and vibroblades as if the galaxy was ending tomorrow. What didn’t go towards guns and ammo went towards food and fuel, the Crest blasting off of Nevarro again and again and again.

As time went on, you slowly started to warm up to each other. You couldn’t really say you were friends, just work partners that happened to be flawlessly efficient at what they did. It was a fine arrangement, but over time small, but significant changes between you started to catch your attention.

You’d pinned a bounty, a large, malodorous Twi’lek that nearly squirmed out from your grasp, only to earn themselves a vicious cold-clocking to the back of their tentacled skull. Breath heavy and eyes burning with aggression, you’d slogged the captive into the carbonite freezer like you were taking out the trash, your wanton strength not going unnoticed by your companion.

“Good job.” Mando had said with a tilt of his helmet, watching your chest heave with adrenaline. “Such a strong verd’ika, can’t wait to see what you do to the next guy.” He’d never complimented you up to that point, if he spoke to you at all. It’d caught you off guard, but in a good way, and you knew right then you wanted to hear him say it again.

So you kept doing a good job.

And you did it on purpose.

The next bounty you held in place while Mando punched their lights out, holding steadfast against the living sledgehammer that was your partner, wincing every time you felt his fists explode against the Aqualish’s exoskeleton. When they’d keeled over, you let them fall to the floor, jumping slightly when Mando patted your shoulder, impressed with your ability to hold your own.

He seemed kind, when he wasn’t retaliating against your snide remarks or beating the living shit out of a bounty. Often when it was just the two of you he was almost soft spoken, asking you if you got enough to eat or if your wounds needed tending to, but not once did he ever make a pass at you.

That was somewhat of a surprise, but you didn’t even know what species he was, so there was a good chance you weren’t even on his sexual radar. He looked human, he obviously wasn’t a Togruta or a Twi’ with that helmet, and he was too tall to be a Rodian or Ugnaught. Too broad to be Gungan.

He was humanly proportioned to a sinful degree, his wide armored shoulders and cinched waist giving you wicked thoughts in the late hours. Even his fucking voice did something to you, the deep, gravelly husk of it almost reverberated in your chest when he spoke, and more than once you wished it would vibrate for you somewhere else.

But you were just two hunters making a living, nothing more.

Recently, however, something had started to change; and it wasn’t something that you liked. You weren’t buddy-buddy, but in the recent weeks his demeanor had started to wane. Mando was always private, taking his meals alone and keeping the fresher door locked when in use, but even when he wasn’t dealing with the necessary inconveniences of being alive he was starting to avoid you more and more.

At first you let him have his space, it was none of your business what was bothering him if he wasn’t going to speak up about it. But as the weeks seemed to drag on his temper began to flare more often, his sentences getting even shorter than they already were, his words sharp and vindictive.

You let it slide until he was rude to a merchant in a Bespin market, demanding more food rations than what he was being offered. Mando had left the market with so much dried meat and canned vegetables that it was falling out of his satchel, leaving a breadcrumb trail of bantha-in-a-can as he stormed back to the ship.

He was eating more often, too, squirreling himself away from your campfires or tucking himself up in either his sleeping cubby or the cockpit; whichever was further away from you at the time. You had your own space in the upstairs part of the Crest where he’d strung a ramshackle hammock for you, but it was so close to her reactors that you frequently woke up sweaty whenever you were in hyperspace.

On one such occasion you decided to sneak over to the ladder hatch when he thought you were sleeping, carefully peeking into the hold below. You could see him in his alcove, but just barely, only his back visible to you from your vantage point. He was eating, a lot. You watched his back and shoulders heave with each desperate bite of food, gorging himself as if he’d been lost in the desert for weeks.

The next cycle he kept his back to you almost constantly, like he was trying to hide something from view, but there were very little private spaces in the ship, especially while the stars streaked by overhead. Try as he might, he couldn’t hide his secret from your prying eyes, though you weren’t surprised with what you saw after watching him eat like there was no tomorrow.

He was gaining weight.

It was just a little at first, maybe just an illusion brought on by some extra layers of clothing; hyperspace was chilly, after all. However it soon became obvious as his extra warmth began to pudge over his belt and upset his armor that it wasn’t all fluff. You checked the larder after he went up to the cockpit to work on the navigation, and you were alarmed to find that almost half of your rations were already used up after having left Bespin only three cycles ago.

Something was definitely up with your partner.

You were watching him now from where you sat on one of the supply crates, toying with a vibroblade while he rigorously cleaned a plate of his armor, his back turned to you. His beskar was spotless, nary a drop of blood or spec of dust remained. He was just trying to distract himself from his newfound curves, but you were starting to get frustrated.

It was time to get to the bottom of this.

“Hey, are you feeling alright? You’ve been acting-”

“I’m fine.” he barked, the aggression behind his words making you jump. You weren’t afraid of him, or he of you. Your partnership was mutually beneficial and respected, and it wasn’t like him to be so short with you in close quarters. You weren’t having any of it.

“That’s crap and you know it, something's up with you, I can tell. You wanna talk about it?” Though he wasn’t looking your way, you cast your eyes at his pudge muffin, hoping he would catch your implications without you having to put it into words.

He said nothing, instead he rose from his seat and hurried up the ladder to the flight deck, sealing the airlock behind him.

You didn’t see him again until the ship dropped from hyperspace.

It was a quiet couple of days, and fucking boring too. Mando didn’t even come down to use the fresher or grab food, which made you nervous after seeing him stress eating like he had been. The Crest touched down on Jedha not far from an enormous crater that the Empire had put there in its heyday, but even when the engines went quiet, the blast door remained sealed.

“Mando? You still alive in there?” You asked tentatively with your ear pressed to the door, rapping your knuckles against the durasteel.

“Fine.”

“Are you coming out?”

There was a long pause, then: “...No.”

You grumbled and donked your head against the door. “Are you gonna make me go get this bounty myself?” He didn’t answer, which unfortunately meant the answer to your question was ‘yes’. You sighed heavily like you’d heard him do innumerable times. “You suck. Do you need anything before I head out?”

“No, thank you verd’ika.”

He was still alive, and talking, so those were both good signs, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong with him during your entire hunt. The bail jumper you were after came quietly, which on a regular day would make you angry that you had even wasted fuel for such a lame chase, but you were anxious to get back to your partner.

You marched the delinquent up the ramp and goaded them into the freezer, filling the little cabin with carbonite fog. Though you were making a hell of a racket, you still hollered up the ladder before climbing it, only to find the cockpit empty. Nervously you searched the upper floor, checking everywhere from your hammock to the fuselage, but he was nowhere to be seen.

Jumping down the ladder, you quickly scanned the hold, only to realize that you’d run right past him. The door to his cubby was closed, like it always was even when he wasn’t in it, but outside on the floor near the entrance were piles of empty food tins. Horrified, you checked the larder, your eyes going all the way to the bottom of the crate. He ate everything!

“Mando! I’m back! Open up!” You yelled, pounding your fist on the door, not giving a flying fuck if he was asleep. Something was very, very wrong.

“You’re back already?” He called, his voice weak and hoarse behind the door, making your blood run cold. Oh Maker no, don’t tell me he’s sick.

“Yeah, and I’m worried about you! Open this damn door before I rip it off its rails.”

“You need to leave. You can’t be here.”

“‘Scuse me? Fucker I live here! I’m not-”

“Please, you’re not safe.” He pleaded, his voice sounded broken and desperate, like he was trying to choke something back.

“Not safe? Mando you’re not making any sense, I already took care of the bounty, they-”

“You’re not safe from me!”

A weird mix of emotions flooded through you, first the worry for the health of your partner, the confusion at his panic, and suddenly the rage that burned behind your eyes at the mere notion of him thinking you couldn’t peel him apart like a can of sardines.

You’d had enough.

“Fuck you, chum bucket, this ends right now! Hope you’ve got pants on because I’m coming in!”

“No! Don’t, please!”

“HERE I COME!” You bellowed as you slammed your fist into the glowing button panel on the wall, deaf to his fretful protests. The metal grate rattled as it rolled upwards, and briefly your eyes caught the back of his head right before his helmet sank down over the dark curls that he kept secret. The fact that he even had hair was the least startling thing of all.

What hit you first was the smell.

Inside the sleeping cubby where the Mandalorian was hurriedly scuttling into the deepest reaches, the pungent scent of...something hurtled through your synapses. It didn’t stink, quite the opposite, it smelled delicious. Warm and rich, like honey on fruit sitting out on a beautiful summer day, the alien aroma making your mouth water.

“What the fuck is that smell?” you roared at the man huddled as far away from you as he could get, his body lost to the shadows behind the scattering of armor he had discarded. You didn’t like that one bit, feeling something akin to pity at his doubled-over, armorless frame. You sniffed the air again, taking deep, greedy inhalations and trying to decipher what the fuck was going on. “Are you eating starfruit?! You fuckhole! You’re snacking without me!”

“Please leave me alone.” He grumbled, wedging himself even harder against the back wall. “I’m fine, really, I just want to be alone.”

“Well that’s just too fuckin’ bad, you’re sick, and the least you could do is tell me what’s wrong. I have a right to know if my partner is gonna up and die on me.” He pleaded again, his voice sounding whiny even through his vocorder, but you were having none of it. “I’m coming in.”

“Dammit all, why won't you leave me alone?!” He was yelling now, but in his anger he turned enough towards you that you could see his front, making you gasp.

Big.

“Holy fucking shit, Mando, are you… are you pregnant?!” Hidden by his broad backside no longer, his protruding belly caught the light, jiggling a bit when he wrapped his arms around it.

“No! I mean… sorta…”

“The fuck do you mean sorta?!” you were screaming now, blown away by his swollen guts and the fact that he was very much not pregnant only a few days ago. “What the hell is that then?!”

He was caught now, you’d seen his shame and there was no going back. “They’re… they’re my eggs.”

You stood a moment, staring at him while your mouth flopped uselessly like a dying fish. Welp, there’s your answer, he is not human. There were lots of sentient species in this great big galaxy you called home, many of which produced offspring via eggs, so you weren’t as surprised by that as you were by the suddenness of it. Of... him.

Mando rubbed at his belly, curling in on himself as if doing so would shrink him down into nothingness where he could disappear into oblivion. “Please, it’ll pass, I’ve just… I’ve never had anyone around me while I...grmph... deal with it.”

His groan of pain broke your stare, pumping determination into your legs along with the burn of adrenaline. “Do… do you need help? Is there anything I can do for you?” You leaned forward into the alcove, reaching for him. “Are you in pain?”

“...I-I’m f-fine.” He shirked away from you, avoiding your touch. “Happens every couple of years, just...hmmph… it’s not usually… so much.”

Now you were just plain fascinated, climbing up slowly on your hands and knees, trying to be delicate. “Mando, I’m your partner, I’m not just gonna stand around while you suffer. Tell me what I can do to help.” The warrior flinched hard when your fingers found his shoulder, reflexively protecting his belly. “I’m not gonna hurt you.”

“Cyar’ika, please, I don’t want to...hmmph… do anything that I-I’ll regret.”

“You already ate all our fucking food, what more could you do to piss me off?” You said with a laugh, trying to break the tension. Carefully you brushed your hand along his clothed shoulder, a thin smile dancing over your lips when you felt him shudder.

“You shouldn’t touch me, I’m dangerous.”

“You ain’t shit, and I’ve seen how you’ve stiched my wounds closed, you won’t hurt me. I know you.”

“No you don’t!” He screamed, flipping around all the way to try and shoo you out of the cubby, but his hefty gut kept him rooted in place. You couldn’t help but stare at his rounded middle, his flack coat straining to keep zipped shut as the weight of him wobbled delightfully. It made you laugh.

“Mando! You’re gonna be a m... da... parent! You’re gonna be a parent! Why didn’t you tell me?! I would have baked you a cake.”

“It’s.. it’s never been this bad.” he stuttered, consigning himself to the fact that he was stuck with you. “I grow a clutch every year or so, but it’s usually just a handful of... them.” he hissed with an air of disgust, shame creeping into his voice. “They pass without much issue, but it’s never been this much.”

“What do the other Mandalorians do when this happens?”

He shook his head, guarding his middle. “Mandalorian isn’t a race, it’s a creed. The Mandalorians rescued me after an army of droids killed my parents and everyone else in my village. I… I don’t know what species I am, and neither does my clan. There’s no record of my village, or where they found me, and I can’t find anything on the holonet about… this.” His visor tilted down to his tummy. “I might be the last of my kind.”

“Mando, that's terrible, but I’m sure there’s more of you somewhere. There’s gotta be! Maybe if you took off your helmet I could see-”

“No, helmet stays on. I don’t need to add the indignity of a broken creed to this mess. Now please, mesh’la I’m begging you, lock me in here and let me ride this out alone. I don’t know if I could live with myself if I hurt you.”

You scuttled closer on your knees until you were right up against him, cautiously reaching out towards his swell. His visor snapped at you, his body flinching harder into the corner, but he was trapped. “Why do you think you’ll hurt me?” You whispered as your palm met the straining fabric cradling his shameful secret.

He grabbed your wrist so hard you felt your bones grind from the strength of his grip. “Because…” he growled, the timbre of it so low you felt a shiver run down your spine. “Because I don’t know what I am, but I know I need to put these eggs somewhere, and I want...I need to put them… inside…” He trailed off when a painful contraction shook his body, making him let go of you to hold himself together. “Get out now! It’s starting… please I can handle this alone but if you’re near me… I don’t know what I’ll do!”

“Shut’cher gob and tell me what to do, and don’t tell me to leave because I won’t!” You didn’t know jack shit about human births, let alone alien gestation, but you’d been through some fucked up situations, what’s one more for good measure? “I’m guessing you need to get your pants off.” His breathing was heavy, his helmet tilting with each laboured heave, but he nodded and started to fumble with the zipper of his trousers.

Your heart leapt to your throat. In the darkness of your hammock you’d imagined what it would be like to undress him, taking each of his beskar plates off and trailing your fingers down his tight clothes, revealing the man underneath like unwrapping a gift. With your fingers lost between your legs you’d pictured his muscular shoulders and broad chest, maybe even a trail of dark hair that led you all the way down his beefy abdomen to his thick, heavy cock. You’d had to bite down on the corner of your blanket when you thought of him pinning you to the wall or bending you over the dashboard, stuffing you full of his length while he groaned his praises in your ears until you were soaked.

This was not at all what you had imagined.

His gloves and his girth were giving him a hard time, so diligently you stepped in to help him undress. Your nimble fingers found the button and zipper with ease, the heat of his groin making your cheeks flush rosy pink, and then red when you pulled the zipper across the bulge in his pants and flooded the tiny nook with the perfume of his sex.

The hair surprised you, you didn’t think that an egg-bearing creature would even have curls, but there they were. Dark brown and soft against your fingertips, growing from lovely, sun-bronze skin, but that was the last of his human traits from there on. Ultimately, you were expecting a cock, horrified by the implications of what that meant in this situation, but as the zipper’s teeth continued to split, your eyes were greeted with something that made your guts flip.

It was fucking blue.

The thing sitting heavily between his legs was the prettiest ocean blue you had ever seen, with coils of deep indigo veins running up it’s length between bands of bioluminesce. Long, thick, and glowing, Mando’s half-hard trouser meat sprang out of his open pants, a relieved sigh wheezing through his modulator. It was shaped like a wang dangler all the way up to the head, but there it was something else.

At his tip a circle of petal-shaped protrusions cinched together like the blossom of a flower right before it bloomed. The knobbed end of his thingy wept with clear juices, beading deliciously from between each little bud. Your eyes were locked to a particularly fat drop of precum as it slicked down his length to his base where you found another feast for your eyes.

A hole.

He didn’t have balls, you guessed they were somewhere inside him, instead he had a fat, juicy cunt, his quivering cock growing from where a clit would be on a human. It was just as alien as his length, a dark cobalt that lightened to vibrant teal around sharp teeth that lined his widely spread folds. Those rightfully made you nervous, and fucking confused. What the hell are those supposed to latch on to? Me?!

“I’m disgusting, I know.” He whispered, turning away from you to study the wall while you studied his excitables.

“What? No you’re not, you’re… you’re beautiful.” He snapped back towards you, his visor searching your star-struck eyes for the hint of a lie, but there wasn’t one. He was looking at you, but you weren't looking at him, you were looking at him, straight through his groin into his vulnerable soul. There was just so much, and you wanted to touch all of it. Reflexively you licked your lips, wondering if he tasted as good as he smelled. Your fingers crept forward, hovering inches from his cerulean length. “Can I?”

A sharp inhale echoed in the cubby, followed by a stark nod. “Be gentle… it’s... argh… sensitive!”

“Shhh, Mando, I’ve got you. I’m gonna take good care of you.” Your fingertips met his heated flesh, making him shudder and groan. His strange length twitched from your touch, making another pearl of precum shimmer from the tip. You wrapped your hand around him, stroking the velvety length that weighed heavily against your palm. His helmet hit the wall with a deep, guttural moan, sending molten waves of heat to your own growing need.

“Fuuuuuuuuuuck mesh’la...your hands are amazing.” The man purred, letting his arms fall from his belly to his sides where his fists tangled in the threadbare sheet. His hips thrust upwards into your slow tugs, rutting into your palm. In the tight quarters the mouthwatering scent of honeyed fruit grew stronger until you were sucking down your own spit to keep it from flooding your mouth.

“Hehe, yeah? You like this?” You flicked your wrist in languid spirals, running your thumb over the weeping blossom to drag warm slick down his length and towards your second goal. His toothy slit parted for you as you got closer, the pearly white fangs curling away from you safely. With one hand still on his beef, you rubbed your fingertips around his flushed hole, sinking a digit down to the knuckle.

“Yes.” he moaned breathlessly, his womb jiggling when he convulsed from your touch. You sank another finger inside, scissoring him open while you fisted his cock. “K-keep doing that and... and…” His heels scooted on the mattress when he clenched around you, his swelling length pulsating in your hand. A needy whine busted out of his modulator, and between your sunken digits you felt something grow.

“Go ahead, Mando, come on my hand, or in my hand, I don’t care. That’s a good boy.” He bucked into your steady thrusts, lost in the combination of filling and being filled. His walls fluttered around your fingers, and you felt something press against you when he bore down, but instead of something popping out of his cunt, something went up his length.

*Pop!*

From the tip of his spear, a bright orange ball sprang from him, surprising you so much you let go of his throbbing shaft and pulled your fingers from his slit. Excitedly you plucked the egg from where the halo of petals parted, presenting the orb to you like a priceless gem. “You did it! Look, Mando, it’s a… ball! Congratulations.” You were beaming, so proud of yourself for midwifing him through the process, but he was shaking his head.

“There’s more… and… and I’m starting to get desperate. You got me started, I can take it from here. Thank you for your help.”

“I’m not leaving til you’re done, but let me go find a bucket or something to… oh no!” In your hand the soft shelled egg started to dissolve and wither in the dry air, turning into goo that dribbled down your arm. “Oh shit! Oh shit Mando I’m so sorry! I-I don’t know w-what happened!”

“No no… It's alright.” He shook his head, bringing a hand up to caress his swell. “They never make it. It’s ok though, it's not like they’re fertilized. Please leave me now, your hands aren’t going to tide me over for long, and I don’t want to do something I’ll regret.”

“You keep saying that! I don’t understand, why do you think that you’ll-”

“Because I want to breed you.” The singular black eye of his visor snapped viciously towards you, making you pale. “I’m sorry, but it’s all I can think about. It’s been getting worse the closer I’ve gotten to my heat, but I don’t want to do that to you, I respect you too much. Please… forgive me.” He looked away from you shamefully, but his luminous length was still pulsing with the rapid beating of his heart. “I think being around you is why I’m so full, you’re just so damn beautiful… a-and I want you.”

Maybe it was the sickenly-sweet spice that he was putting off, or the cum soaking your hands, or even the vulgar fantasies that you imagined to yourself in the night, but you were intrigued. “You wanna do what now?”

“Breed you.” He growled, his voice so dark and sinful everything inside you clenched around nothing. “Fucking stars ever since you stabbed the cantina table I’ve wanted to be inside you. Feel your pretty little pussy squeezing me, hear those sweet moans you make when you’re alone at night… yes I can hear you. You’re louder than you think you are. But I want to be the one making you scream.” His growls turned to forced laughter. “I wish I’d gotten to before...this.”

“I don’t mind this…” You hummed, dragging your fingers along his velvety length, but he caught your wrist again, shaking his head.

“Stop, before I can’t hold back anymore.”

“Maybe I don’t want you to hold back.” You batted your lashes at him and bit your lip, leaning seductively towards his hunkered body. “Maybe I wouldn’t mind.”

“I don’t want to hurt you, and I don’t know what I’d do to you, what my… ugh… eggs… would do to your body.”

“Maybe we should… find out?”

“You don’t know what you're asking.”

“Neither do you.” With that you rolled forward to kiss at his big blue eel, making him curse out your name and grab a fistful of your hair.

“Mesh’la…”

You hummed and lapped at his crown, his nectar tasting even better than it smelled. Sweet and succulent, driving you crazy with need. Your venomous tongue could be so kind when it wanted to be, swirling around his knobbled head and flicking at his frenulum. Beneath you he was a mess, writhing and bucking with desperation. Lips slick with spit, you sank your mouth as far down as you could take him without gagging, fisting the rest with one hand and teasing his cunt with the other.

Fingers digging into your scalp, Mando fought the urge to fuck your throat raw, your obscene sucking threatening to toss him right over the edge. You hollowed your cheeks and spun your tongue, lapping around each sensitive bean and plunging into his slit to drink him down.

His muscles swelled and clenched with another pass, and you barely were able to pull your mouth away when a new sphere spat out his tip, rolling away from you to melt elsewhere. “Mando, they’re going to waste, what are we going to do about that?”

“Take your fucking clothes off so I can fuck them into you, pretty girl.” He was gone, the husk of his voice making the hair on the back of your neck stand on end. “Let me breed you properly, make you mine. Show you what it means to be mated by a Mandalorian.”

You obeyed, rocking back on your haunches to peel your shirt away, releasing your breasts into the hot, steamy space. The black swath of void where his eyes should be drank in the sight of you as if you were the last glass of water on Tatooine, his hand coming up to pinch at your pert nipple. “These are beautiful. I’ve dreamed about these for so long, but they’re so much better in person.”

“They taste better, too.” You crawled over top of him, your knees in between his, waving the heavy dewdrops in front of his armored face. “You wanna?”

“My creed…”

“Party pooper. Fine, then you better help me open up, you’re packin’ more than I think I can fit.” You’d taken lovers before, once you’d even taken a Wookie on a drunken dare, and if it wasn’t for the persistent wet dog smell it might have been the best sex you’d ever had. But Mando was thick, and even thicker when his cock swelled to push out an egg.

“Are you really ok with this? You’re not just saying…”

“Mando~” You purred, pressing your softness against his pulsating length, shivering when you felt his fangs scrape your thighs. “Breed me. They’ll just melt back out anyway, what’s a little...fun?”

He reached a hand up tentatively to your face, his helmet shaking slightly from side to side while he hunted in your eyes for any resistance, any clue that you were just saying that to make him feel better, but he found none.

“How did I get so lucky…”

“You’re about to get even more lucky.” You teased, taking his hand from your cheek to pry the black and yellow glove off, chucking it somewhere behind you. The flesh of his hand matched the flesh of his groin, a soft golden tone that looked like it was kissed by the sun, but not once had you ever seen him bare an inch. It was also very human, looking much like your own, save for the length and thickness of his fingers and the dark hair that grew from his knuckles. They were very much the hands of a man.

Yay!

Your pants fell away next, disappearing out of the cubby and onto the floor with the collection of empty ration tins and discarded armor. Naked as the day you were born, you clambered over him and flopped against his side, letting your legs fall open. “Touch me, Mando, get me nice and ready to be bred.” He growled against you, rolling on his side and cradling you to his chest so he could easily sink his fingers into your fluttering heat.

“Fucking stars, you’re soaked. This all for me?” You nodded and whined, your eyes rolling back when he dove one finger inside, then a second, curling them upwards to find that hidden patch of nerves you could never really reach on your own. “Gonna get you nice and open, make you cum so you can take my clutch. Would you like that, mesh’la, want me to fill you up? Swell your belly full?”

You mewled at the debauchery of it all, blissed out of your mind as he finger fucked you relentlessly. His fingers sank into you all the way to the knuckle, his thumb drawing tight, diligent circles on your clit. Mando snaked his free arm under your neck, pulling you in close to his muscular body and leaning his helmet against your brow. The cold metal burned against your sweating forehead, the steam of his breath coiling out from under the sharp iron edge with every ragged breath.

“That’s it, come for me, beautiful. Almost there.” Your nails dug into his clothed shoulders and made you realize he was way more dressed than you were. Need to fix that. With shaking knees you squirmed and writhed on his slick hand until he brought you over the edge, your walls trying to break his fingers as you came, drenching the thin sheets. “Good girl, such a perfect little cunt. Give me one more, cyar’ika.” All his gentleness evaporated as he thrust into you, his thumb pressed to your sensitive button and making you fall apart all over again.

“Fuck me, Mando, please! I want you in me, you’re not the only one with wet dreams, y’know.” He rumbled a laugh and pulled his arm out from under your neck and his fingers from your sopping mess, dragging the wet of it across your bare thigh. Hauling himself up, he moved until he was between your legs, pulling his remaining glove off and working to undo his flack.

With bated breath you watched him hurriedly undress, wondering what other fun alien treats he was keeping from you. As the dark fabric fell away, your eyes were gifted with the sight of his body, though besides the wandering blue tiger stripes and his obvious non-human bits, he was remarkably close to a man.

Except for the parts of him that were glowing.

Strings of faint teal lights followed the flow of his body, mixed intermittently with yellow stars. It wasn’t enough to illuminate the little alcove, but it was a beautiful sight nonetheless, a constellation of stars you could call your very own.

His chest was wide and muscular, a trail of dark brown hair dusting down his sternum and over the swell of his middle. His arms and shoulders looked like tree trunks, ribbons of countless scars marring his flesh with shimmering whites and pinks. Pushing his pants all the way off gave you an even better view, though he had considerably more glow streaks further down his legs, spanning from the sapphire spire around his hips.

He was fucking gorgeous.

What does his face look like, then?

“You’ll tell me if I hurt you, right?” He asked sweetly, grabbing his beast and dragging the leaking head against your thirsty little cunt. You bucked your hips up to him, trying to notch him in your entrance, but he pressed his tip into your clit to make you writhe. “Tell me, I need to hear it.”

“Yes, Mando, now please please fuck...me!!” He snapped forward and thrust his appendage into you, bottoming right out even though his full tummy was in the way. He held himself still, his body shivering with delight as your excited walls rippled around him. Deep inside you felt the little buds at his tip teasing at the tight ring of muscle that protected your innermost sanctum, politely asking for entry.

“Fuck-ing Maker, I knew you would feel good, but...ah… so much better than I ever imagined.” You giggled at him, reaching out and rubbing the taut flesh of his abdomen where it sat heavily against your own, rocking your hips side to side. His fingers dug into the skin of your knees with a broken curse, trying to hold you still. “Keep doing that and I’m gonna…”

“What? This?” You arched your hips into his, trying to coax him into gear. “I didn’t know you were such a tease, tinman.” His helmet vibrated with a growl before he was sliding himself out, making sure you felt every inch of his length drag along your walls. The head of it almost managed to drop out, sitting tantalizingly at your gates before thrusting into you with reckless abandon.

You shrieked, impaled on his otherworldly spire again and again, the noise of it wetly echoing in the cubby. Above you he grunted with the strain, hooking his elbows under your knees and going to town. You were helpless, head rolling back, eyes fluttered shut as he filled you over and over again, moaning out his name.

Though he was lost in the heat of the moment, he wished the name on your lips was his real name, the one he had sequestered away when he took his oaths. Din. He fantasized about it in the night, the short syllable tumbling from your full lips, wet from sucking him dry. Din! He wanted to snuff out the sound of it with his own mouth, capturing your tongue and tasting you fully, plundering the hot wet hole that would so beautifully sing his song.

“Din!”

But Mando would have to do.

For now.

Both of you could feel he was getting close to something, his thrusts quickening with his breath. You felt your heartbeat gallop in your chest, thundering against the walls of its cage with excitement. He was gasping, struggling to pull oxygen in through the iron that protected his face. Hips snapped against yours, the slap of skin sounding obscene in the little space. You arched your back and bore down on him, your coiled muscles milking out his release.

And then you fucking felt it.

The clever little buds on his tip stuffed themselves into the cradle of your body, teasing your cervix open and leaving something behind. Inside you felt the soft little ball swell your womb sweetly, giving you a feeling of fullness you’d never experienced before. You keened from the sensation, bringing your hands up to your belly, searching for your treasure.

“Are you alright? Am I hurting you?” Mando asked urgently between broken breaths, a weathered palm coming up to caress your face. You tittered and nodded, his relieved sigh felt through your legs and stomach.

“Got any more for me, big boy?” You purred, dragging your nails through the soft hair on his bulging abdomen where he obviously did.

“You’re going to ruin me, cyar’ika.” The pulsating length stuffed inside you slid out slowly, stringing a line of precum from your slick heat to his flushed blue tip. “Get on your knees and I’ll show you how much more there is.”

Scrambling out from under him, you flipped yourself over like a slutty little pancake, presenting your ass in front of him to feast on with his eyes. The rough pads of his fingers dug viciously into your fleshy globes, making both of you groan. “Gonna give you all of me, beautiful. Tell me you want that?” He was trying to be dirty, but the sincerity in his voice made your heart flood with honeyglow.

“I want it, tinman, I wanna be full!”

A dark, lecherous laugh rumbled behind you while he lined himself up, rubbing himself over your slit before plunging in. Stars flashed behind your eyes when he hit your deepest reaches again, making you drop to your elbows. He circled the bones of your hips with his hands, squeezing and rubbing at your waist while you adjusted to the new angle. Impatiently you clenched around him, earning yourself a stinging swat on your backside that made you squeal.

“Bad girl, you have to wait.” He growled behind you, making you whine and earning yourself another spanking that was followed by a soothing palm. “You gonna be a good girl while I breed you?”

“Yes, daddy.”

“‘Scuse me?”

“-snrt!-” You were having too much fun now, begging underneath him for friction with a roll of your hips, giggling through the cock-dumb grin on your face. “I’ll be good~”

“I know you will.” He slid forward, the angle hitting something destructive inside you, and you could tell he felt it. Memorizing your insides, he rocked forward again and again, building you up higher and higher to make you squirm. Fisting the sheets you cried when the lightning cracked up your spine, your cunt squeezing the life out of him and soaking him through. Your orgasm sucked another egg from his cock, the gentle weight sitting pretty next to the first.

“More…” you mumbled into the mattress, curving your ass up and brushing the underside of his swell. “Please…”

“You’re fucking perfect, mesh’la, so perfect for me.” His voice behind you sounded wildly different, lacking the gravelly modulation you’d grown used to, replaced with a rich baritone that tied your guts up in knots. Curiosity almost got the better of you, but before you could turn around to look at his bare face he covered your eyes, his broad palm spanning the entire width of your face. “No peeking. Be a good girl or you won’t get any more.”

He set his empty helmet down by your head, giving you something to look at if you could keep your eyes open, but his filthy cadence made your eyeballs roll back til they were gawking at your brain. Mando plowed you like his life depended on it, his fuckstick swelling inside your walls with each pass of his spend.

Reaching back, you rubbed your steadily-filling middle, the weight of his brood already making you show. Your devious digits kept going, fingertips teasing around where he melded into you, your lips stretched tightly around him. He jumped when you stuffed your hand back even further, careful not to catch on his goddamn crotchteeth to finger his cunt.

“Mesh’la!” He cried, bucking into you and pushing at least three more eggs into your womb with a single thrust. Above you he curled against your spine, his belly flattening while yours continued to swell. His arms left your hips to snake up your body, crossing between your breasts like a seatbelt and hauling you up off your elbows to his chest. Buckle up, buttercup! His sweaty pecs stuck to your spine while he kissed at the side of your neck.

You wanted so badly to look.

Instead you closed your eyes and let yourself get lost in the passionate kisses he pressed to your skin, his teeth grazing the tender flesh under your jaw. The fact that he even had lips crossed a few dozen species off of your list of possibilities, and even more when you felt the tickle of facial hair. Mando’s heated kisses tracked up your throat to nibble at your ear, his thrusting getting messy behind you.

“Can you cum for me again, beautiful? I wanna feel it.” The hand between your breasts slid up to your throat, pressing ever so gently while the second found your clit and spun devious little circles. His scruffy beard scraped your shoulder as you writhed on him, tears springing to your eyes with your crashing orgasm. “Mmph, that’s my good girl. So fucking perfect!”

His hips stuttered, slapping against your ass with a final burst, the fill of him swelling your middle to capacity, bouncing with fullness. Heavy, desperate breaths puffed against your skin as he came down from his high, caressing you with his hands and the sharp point of his chin; mumbling praises in your ear. “I didn’t think you could get any more beautiful, look at you…”

At his purring you flickered an eye open, looking down past your breasts at where you were swollen with his clutch as if you were swollen with child. His broad palms danced along the taut flesh, sliding from your precious tummy to the drops of your breasts, his hums of contentment rumbling between you. His chest and abdomen were flush with your spine, his body returned to its natural shape while yours had changed so drastically.

Between your legs his spent cock throbbed, making your combined arousal drip down onto the destroyed mattress when it softened and released. You whined from the loss, whining louder when he sneaked his fingers inside, feeling your stretched walls and musing about how wonderful you felt.

You reached forward for his helmet, handing it back to him and trying not to look at the warped reflection of his face in its sloping surfaces. He took it from you gently, letting it sink over his face so you could get off of your knees. You flopped heavily over on your butt, sitting upright and petting your full womb with a blissed out look on your face.

He laid next to you, holding you close to his body as if you were his cute little wife expecting your first baby together, and not a pair of interspecies hunters giving in to your primordial needs. You leaned against him, sighing contently and watching his serpent retreat into his body, the rows of teeth biting together and showing you why he didn’t wear codpiece with his armor.

“That’s fuckin’ weird, dude.” You laughed, brushing a fingertip along the glistening enamel.

He winced behind you. “I know, I’m sorr-”

“No, I like it.” you crooned, nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck. “That was fun. How often did you say this happens?”

“About once a year, but… uh… I can still get hard, without a clutch, if that’s what you’re asking?” You nodded with a laugh, curling up against his side so your full womb rested on his hip. He sighed contentedly, drawing circles on your belly with his fingers. “How does this feel? Does it hurt?”

“No, not at all, actually feels good. Feels full. I like it, I’m almost sad that it’s not gonna last.”

“Me too, you look so good like this. I could get used to it.” You hummed in agreement, shifting your legs apart so that when the eggs withered and turned to goo they could easily make their way out.

Should be any second now.

The two of you waited, laying together in post-coital bliss, just enjoying the feel of each other’s bodies, tracing scars and stars, exploring the wonders you’d kept secret from each other.

You waited.

And waited.

The minutes ticked by, at first it was a blessing, giving you time to bask in the afterglow together, but as the minutes turned to quarter hours, then halfs, you started to get worried. “Mando? I can still feel them, they’re not breaking down.”

“I’m sure they will, they always do.”

“Ok…”

They didn’t.

Hours went by, and even after waddling to the fresher shower and trying to squat them out, the eggs remained. You got washed up, half morbidly, half exuberantly watching the way the fresher water dripped from your belly while you cleaned up.

Outside the shower you toweled yourself off, taking extra steps to dry under the swell of your womb, but you struggled to reach all the way around. Mando knocked on the door politely before letting himself in, dressed only in his helmet and pants. Dutifully he took the towel from you and got to the places you couldn't reach while you were carrying his potential young.

It was surprisingly intimate, maybe even more so than being stuffed full of his length. He started on your legs, between your thighs and up to their apex, then softly wiped at your tummy and hips. His deft hands dragged the towel under each breast, then your shoulders and arms, then lastly your neck; draping the wet fabric around you like a cloak when he saw your bunching brows. You looked nervous.

“We’ll figure it out, mesh’la, I won’t let anything happen to you, I promise.” He stated with determination, brushing his thumb down the curve of your cheek and turning your eyes to meet his visor. Your hair was still wet, and now so were your eyes, the first twinges of fear creeping into their corners. He didn’t like what he saw. “Close your eyes, lovely girl.”

You did, squeezing back the mist that was starting to form. He let go of you, and you heard the sound of something heavy and metallic being set down on the sink. The towel around your shoulders was lifted over your head, draping it over your face. You were about to give him hell, mad that he would want to hide your face when you were clearly getting emotional, but instead you felt the wet fabric being lifted as he joined you underneath.

Then he kissed you.

Warm, petal-soft lips pressed against your cold wet ones, suddenly surprising you before you melted into him. His kiss was as gentle as his hands that were making their way up to your jaw, holding you steady while he slotted his mouth to yours. He felt human, the edges of his teeth dull like yours, thankfully not sharp like the ones between his legs. Tasted human, too.

You kissed him back, darting your tongue out with an experimental flick, licking his plush lower lip. He inhaled sharply, caught off guard by your forwardness. His fingers coiled around the back of your head, tangling in your wet hair as his kisses grew in intensity. The smooth muscle of his mouth danced with your own, letting you both taste each other for the first time.

“Ner cyar’ika, I’ve waited so long for this.” he purred against your lips, his words heavy with adoration. He kissed you again, pulling you into himself hungrily and tickling your nose with his mustache. Your own hands came up, slowly dragging over the expanse of his chest to the sinewy length of his neck, and finally to the edge of his jaw.

“Can I touch your face, Mando? I won’t look with my eyes.” He nodded against your lips, his nose bumping the side of yours. Cautiously you wandered your fingertips along the edge of his jaw, the stiff bristles catching under your nails. He shivered with need when you scratched him, carding through his scruff like you were taming a massif.

His sharp jawline led you up his cheeks, their softness dusted with erratic bristles. You ran your thumbs under his eyes, exploring his cheekbones and the creases that bordered his large eyes. Pressing your forehead to his and pulling your lips away, you circled your thumbs down the sides of his well-defined nose to the line of hair above his lips. The creases that your hands found told you he wasn’t a young man, but he probably wasn’t too far beyond your age either.

And you imagined him to be very handsome.

It wasn’t until your hands found his ears that you remembered he wasn’t the same species as you. They were pointed, and sensitive if his little moans of pleasure were anything to go by.

“I don’t ever want you to see those, they’re ug- oh!” You cut off his self depreciation to tilt his head between your hands, pressing a kiss to each of his ears with a seductive puff of steam. “St-stop, you’re giving me goosebumps.”

“Stop being so mean to yourself, buckethead, only I can be the judge of that, and I bet they're cute!” He laughed, the sound warm and brassy, but not enough to distract you from your current predicament. “What… what are we going to do about… this.” You took each of his hands in yours and set them on your full belly, letting him caress his handiwork.

He sighed, pressing a kiss to your forehead in the dark of the towel, his lashes brushing your skin when he dropped his brow to yours. You heard his lips part with a smile, imagining the way the wrinkles around his eyes would bunch, wistfully hoping that one day you could see them for yourself.

“Mesh’la I-… I have no idea."

Next->

If you liked this fic, check out Garden of Ishtar! It's chapter 9 in a series but can be read stand-alone. Enjoy~

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[verobatto]

Destiel Chronicles

Vol. XCIV

It was a love story from the very beginning.

And you are not here... (Part. II)

(13x02/13x03)

Hello dears! We are here again, witnessing Dean's mourning for Castiel, and we are suckers for that.

I will try to convey in this meta two episodes, so let's see what happens!

The rejection

At the beginning of the episode, we had Sam and Dean talking about Jack. Dean keeps rejecting the kid because he put on him the weight of loosing Castiel.

They find a motel, and Dean plays the tv, and there's Scooby, and for a brief moment we saw him smiling. Then Dean gives Jack the Bible, and the kid opens it in the Book of Song of Solomon, which is from the Old Testament, and it talks plenty about a two lovers that try to find a way to be together. So the poems describe their passionate and beautiful love for each other, their sadness and their difficulties. Is narrated romantically poetic of that time.

This is very meaningful because the book could be symbolizing Castiel and Dean, trying to be reunited. And the kid is the one who will help to do that. Two lovers that were separated by death but also, who had lived a lot of difficulties together.

Also this quote from Asmodeus:

ASMODEUS: The pain, the, uh, the total humiliation… it forged an eternal bond between us.

Is just a little taste of a dark parallel to Destiel. Is a dark, toxic bond, forged by pain and humiliation, all the opposite of Destiel bond. And we are witnessing this quote because is in the next episode the one Jack will wake up CAS through Dean's mourning. The power of their bond forged by love. The lovers will be finally reunited again.

This scene is when Jack shows Dean is his role model... But also, let's check out the colors...

Go f credit @deansplushy

The room is blue (Castiel) and the kid is imitating Dean, Dean knows it and looks very done with it.

But the whole room is painted in Blue, as if Castiel were in Jack and Dean's mind the whole time.

Then, this foreshadow...

DONATELLO: Sam? Dean? Is God with you?

Donnie was certainly sensing the new God, but also these words...

DONATELLO: (...) So… a few days ago, I’m online, checking out condos in Boca, and I am knocked off my feet by this weird wave of power. Not exactly like God’s. More like… something new, something fresh. I was drawn to it. It’s here.

Something new, something fresh, that's a good description for a new God that just had bey born. Donnie knew it the whole way long.

After this they decided to brought Jack to tattooed the sigil... And this very symbolic dialogue happened between Jack and Dean:

JACK It hurt.

Gif set credit @demondetox

This is the description of grief. So, if Dean was trying to give himself a message and to push the kid into that idea, Jack took it well. He knows he has to endure it. Even if Jack is talking about physical pain, or emotional pain, it fits perfectly with the lesson is floating around loosing Castiel.

Another discussion about Jack happens and this time Dean explodes into hurtful words, and Jack flies away.

The scene in which Sam is talking with him is very beautiful, but also, the colors caught my attention again...

Gif credit @deansplushy

Again, the color blue behind Sam and Jack, is another reminder of Cas. We also have the green (Dean) behind Sam, and Sam is talking about him. Is a very nice played scene, because Dean is to Sam what Cas is to Jack here "a father" but the good one. And Sam trying to explain why Dean acts like this...

SAM: Dean doesn’t hate you. It… Look, sometimes the wires in Dean’s head get crossed and—and he gets frustrated, and then he mixes frustration with anger, and—and fear.

JACK: Why would he be afraid?

SAM: Because Dean feels like it’s his job to protect everyone. And right now, we need to protect you. But we may also need to protect people from you.

JACK: Maybe I’m not worth all this.

SAM: Your mom thought you were. So did Cas. So do I.

Sam is mentioning one of Dean's inner issues: THE BIG PROTECTOR, as a raised first born, and as a obedient soldier, Dean is trying to fulfill the order his father gave him the night their house were burning and Mary died. John Winchester gave Sam to Dean, and asked him to take care of him, so, the GUILT HERITAGE as I spoke so many times, is playing rudely in Dean right now. He wants to fulfill that mission, because his father asked him to. This is the toxicity in Dean's personality. In harmony with the quote that is said in this same episode: the sons that try to please their fathers.

The Anger and the Patience

When the episode starts, we are immerse into a psychic house, in the window we can see an eye, as a representation of psychic but also, the eye in the triangle represents God. And we all know Chuck is about to come in season 14.

We can distinguish too a book: 'The knowledge of ourselves" in Dede's house. Is an interesting reference to what I about to come: the whole season 14 will be a self-knowledge path Dean will take based on his experience of being faced with himself in the possesion. As I described in my metas, the experience of the possesion is similar to being in Purgatory for Dean: all his human necesites will be gone, and the purity in his heart will be exposed: What do you want?

When Dede is in front of the spectrum, she can see his true form, just like we will see through Anael's eyes, AUMichael's true form.

Let's jump onto Jack's scene watching a video Kelly left him. The mother's message is very pivotal in Jack's life.

KELLY: Hi Jack, it’s uh… I’m your mom. I guess I should tell you, um, I always wanted to be a mom. I’d play with dolls. I was that kind of girl and daydream about my baby.

Kelly is certifying here he wanted to have Jack, Jack was loved. Not rejected, but loved. Kelly says I WANTED TO BE YOUR MOM.

KELLY: Jack, don’t let anyone tell you who you’re supposed to be. Because who you’re supposed to be isn’t fate, it isn’t me, it isn’t your father. You are who you choose to be. And I know you’re going to okay. You are going to be amazing. You have an angel watching over you.

'It isn't me (not human) it isn't your father (not an angel)' is the perfect description of Jack, because he is gonna be the New God. And the last quote is a recall of Mary saying the same to Dean, when she was pregnant. And, emotionally linked to episode 15x18, in which Case says 'I got you' to Jack and then to Dean.

Dean keeps rejecting Jack, calling him a monster, is a blatant self punishment facing the huge guilt he carries in his heart after losing Castiel.

An important scene happens between Missouri and Dean. She, as a psychic, can sense Dean's mourning and depression.

MISSOURI: Oh honey, I’m sorry for your losses.

Dean looks surprised to these words, all the pain he was trying to hide, mostly in front of Jody and her, it shows.

Another self reflection in the mirror of the spectrum foreshadowing Dean staring at the mirror, possesed by Michael.

The conversation between Sam and Jack shows how Jack feels himself as a monster, also he has GUILT, we are witnessing here the GUILT HERITAGE from Dean to Jack, just like John did with him.

Also, Sam see himself in Jack, through his experience with the darkness in the past.

A parallel with Kelly's messages is reflected on Missouri goodbye words to her granddaughter Patience in the cemetery.

MISSOURI: I promise, no matter what happens, no matter where I go, I will always look out for you. You hear?

The words are different but the feelings are the same. Mostly because Sam was reading a book about how to help gifted kids, and this episode talks about two gifted kids: Jack and Patience. The two of them trying to control their powers. But Jack is encouraged to do that and Patience is not allowed to do it by his father.

A little bit interesting point we have in the spectrum WRAITH feeding by psychic's brain, is a continuity with AUMichael living inside of Dean.

When everything ends, Dean has some words with Patience that caught Jody's attention...

PATIENCE: I talked to my dad. He thinks I should put it away. Dad says we should just get back to normal. Maybe he’s right.

DEAN: He is. This life, hunting, monsters, there’s no joy in it. There’s nothing but pain, horror and death. So if you get a chance at normal, you take it.

Dean speaks directly from his broken heart, he had just lost CAS, so he lost everything. There's not meaning in keep living for him. He had seen the death that being a hunter brings. So, he had changed. Everything is sadness, grey and dark for Dean. There's no hopes, no light.

But Jody will speak again, just like Kelly did with Jack, using similar words for Patience:

JODY: Patience, wait. I may be out of line here but you don’t have to listen to him. To either of them if it’s not what you really want.

Not me, not him, Patience need to find herself, just like Jack. Just like the book prayed at the beginning of the episode.

Okay, we are going to focus now in theast scene, so so important!

When Sam sees Dean is back, they started talking about Jack again...

SAM: How was it? Uh, Jody told me about Missouri.

DEAN: Yeah, just another day at the office. How’s the kid? He go dark side yet?

Dean talks about Missouri here with apathy, emotionlessly. This is part of his depression. Then, Sam confronts him.

SAM: No, Dean. He’s messed up because of you. Dean, you said you’d kill him.

DEAN: It wasn’t exactly like that.

SAM: Then how exactly was it?

DEAN: I told him the truth. See, you think you can use this freak but I know how this ends and it ends bad.

SAM: I didn’t.

DEAN: What?

SAM: I didn’t ‘end bad’. When I was the freak, when I was drinking demon blood.

Sam sees himself in Jack in the good way, with hopes, but Dean sees himself in Jack as something that needs to be killed...

DEAN: Come on man, that’s totally different.

SAM: Was it? Because you could’ve put a bullet in me. Dad told you to put a bullet in me, but you didn’t! You saved me! So help me save him!

DEAN: You deserved to be saved, he doesn’t!

SAM: Yes he does, Dean, of course he does!

I will stop here, Dean reflecting himself in Jack is blatant here: HE DOESN'T DESERVE TO BE SAVED. Is the self knowledge of his inner GUILT and MONSTER. Dean sees himself as a monster that doesn't deserve to be saved.

DEAN: Look, I know you think that you can use him as some sort of an interdimensional can-opener and that’s fine, but don’t act like you care about him! Because you only care about what he can do for you! So if you want to pretend, that’s fine! But me? I can hardly look at the kid! Because when I do all I see is everybody we’ve lost!

(Gif credit @foxthefanboi )

Here, my mind went immediately at the scene from previous episode, because Jack behaves so like CAS, and Dean can see it. The pain in Dean's face is getting louder and louder, his eyes, the way he is talking, with cathartic anger will reach the high point when he starts mention the most important person he lost in his life... Castiel. All his pain and anger are because Castiel is gone.

SAM: Mom chose to take that shot at Lucifer. That is not on Jack!

But is not about mom...

DEAN: And what about Cas?

SAM: What about Cas?

Now, the pain and the anger are released in front of his brother. And Sam just confirms and faces it in silence.

DEAN: He manipulated him, he made him promises, said, ‘paradise on earth’ and Cas bought it and you know what that got him? It got him dead! Now you might be able to forget about that, but I can’t!

(gif set credit @shirtlesssammy )

Sam is silent, he takes every drop of anger and pain from his brother, the very cause of Dean's grief is revealed to him. Dean is mourning Castiel. Dean can't forget CAS is dead. Dean can't forgive Jack, himself , for that. That's why. That's the truth. That's why Sam keeps silent.

But the kid is listening...

The grief and the longing is so huge, Jack is able to reach Castiel in the Empty through it. Just like Amara reached Dean through Castiel.

(Gif set credit @shirtlesssammy)

To Conclude:

These two episode showed us how Dean reflects himself in Jack.The guilt and the pain, together with the anger is so huge in Dean's heart, he can't barely hide it.

Sam is the one keeping the flag up for hopes, but Dean had lost everything.

The profound bond is important again now, because is the way Jack reacher CAS in the Empty and wake him up.

Hope you like this meta, see you in the next one!

Tagging @magnificent-winged-beast @emblue-sparks @weird-dorky-little-d @michyribeiro @whyjm @legendary-destiel @a-bit-of-influence @thatwitchydestielfan @misha-moose-dean-burger-lover @lykanyouko @evvvissticante @savannadarkbaby @dea-stiel @poorreputation @bre95611 @thewolfathedoor @charlottemanchmal @neii3n @deathswaywardson @followyourenergy @dean-is-bi-till-i-die @hekatelilith-blog @avidbkwrm @anarchiana @dickpuncher365 @vampyrosa @authorsararayne @mybonsai1976 @love-neve-dies @dustythewind @wayward-winchester67 @angelwithashotgunandtrenchcoat @trashblackrainbow @deeutdutdutdoh @destiel-shipper-11 @larrem88 @charmedbycastiel @ran-savant @little-crazy-misha-minion @samoosetheshipper

@shadows-and-padlocked-hearts @mishtho @dancingtuesdaymorning @nerditoutwithbooks @mikennacac73 @justmeand-myinsight @idontwantpeopletoknowmyname @teddybeardoctor @pepevons @helevetica @isthisdestiel @dizzypinwheel @jawnlockwinchester @horsez2 @qanelyytha

@destielle @spnsmile @shippsblog @robot-feels @superlock-in-the-tardis @superduckbatrebel @2musiclover2 @madronasky @anon-non2 @cea1996 @lisafu02 @asphodelesauvage @destiels-canonahhhhhhhhhh

If you want to be added or removed from this list, just let me know.

If you wanna read my previous meta from season 13 go to this link.

Buenos Aires, December 27th 2020, 12:45 PM

[mrswhozeewhatsis]

A Woman of Letters (Getting a Feel for Sam Winchester) - Chapter 20

Summary:  You’ve just opened an occult bookstore in Lebanon, Kansas, when you fall for a tall, handsome customer…literally. You soon find out that there’s more to the world than you ever suspected, including you. Discovering your heritage puts you directly in a witch’s crosshairs, though, so the Winchesters offer to take you in and teach you how to protect yourself. As you discover your own family history with the supernatural and your own hidden talents, you can’t help but wish a certain brother was as excited about your interest as you are.

Total length: 43 chapters, 70,247 words - Read on AO3 - Series masterlist

Chapter word count: 1764 words

Pairing: Sam x Reader

Warnings: Canon-level angst and violence

You

After Sam had gotten up and left so abruptly, you tried to concentrate on the file in front of you and Dean. The words kept swimming around in your field of vision, though, and when Cas got up and left, you gave up. Sitting back in your chair, you rubbed your eyes and sighed.

“I don’t know what his problem is, but I promise you, he’ll come around.” Your eyes flew to Dean’s, and the soft look on his face made you smile.

“I’d like to say I don’t know what you’re talking about, but I’m not sure that would fly.” You gave Dean a weak smile and shook your head.

“Is he sending you bad vibes or something?” The confused, but caring, look on Dean’s face made you chuckle.

“Not exactly. He’s not sending me anything. For the most part, all I get from him these days is static. Just a gaping lack of anything, really.” You paused with a sigh. “Cas showed him how to close himself off so I can’t feel him. Cas said it was because Sam knows it can be exhausting, and he wanted to spare me what he could.” You shrugged sadly. “But it never bothered me. Cas is the only one that exhausts me. Feeling things from the two of you is actually kind of comforting.” Dean frowned at the sadness in your voice and pulled you awkwardly into his arms over the arms of the chairs.

“I’m sorry he’s doing that to you, sweetheart. I’m sure he’s got his reasons, no matter how wrong they might be.” Dean rubbed your back and took a deep breath. “I bet it hurts more since you’re falling for him, huh?” You stiffened in his arms, and then pulled away, avoiding his eyes.

“What? What makes you think that?” Dean let out a friendly huff and smiled.

“I’ve seen how you look at him over breakfast, or when the two of you are in here reading together.” You feel your face flush and you put your head in your hands.

“It’s so stupid. I feel like a teenager with a crush on a classmate.” Dean rubbed your back again and chuckled.

“It’s not stupid, Y/N. You can’t help how you feel.” You gave Dean a grateful look.

“If I would have been smart, I’d have fallen for you. You, I get. You are easy for me. Sam, he’s a riddle, wrapped inside an enigma, wrapped inside…well, normally I’d say a taco, but in this case…wrapped inside a hella got guy with great hair.” Dean laughed, but then put on a disgusted face.

“Dude, I don’t need to hear that my brother is hot, and that hair is on my to-do list.” Dean smiled at you. You pretended to be shocked and smacked him.

“Don’t you touch it!” Both of you dissolved into laughter and joking threats against each other as Sam and Cas returned to the room. You looked up at Sam and saw a flash of something before his face neutralized and he gave you a polite smile. Your heart ached at the smile, and the hand you had on Dean’s arm tightened. Dean patted your hand reassuringly before breaking apart from you.

“So, you nerds finally finished with the journals? Can the rest of us hear what crazy Uncle Lloyd had to say?” You smacked Dean again lightly, laughing at him. Dean flashed a cocky grin your way and then turned back to the other two, doing his best to make his face look serious. You could still see the twinkle in his eye and the tiniest hint of a smile, though.

“Cas went over what I did, and he made a couple of minor changes, but yes, we’re done.” Sam glared at Dean, and then pushed the journals and the notebook over to you. You stared at the pile of books with trepidation. Why did this make you nervous?

“Is there anything in there about me?” You looked at Sam with uncertainty, and got another polite smile in return.

“Well, there’s a lot of personal stuff in there about you when you were growing up after your parents died. I figured you’d rather read that stuff yourself, though. As far as your gift, and the Men of Letters is concerned, there’s a couple of things about that, too.

“He mentioned a little bit as you were growing up with him that he felt you pushing him. He says he always said no to pretty much anything you asked for to make sure he didn’t reward you for using your gift. He also talks about trying to hide things from you when you were so difficult to lie to.” You nodded and smiled.

“’Because I said so,’ was pretty standard in his house. It was a big change for me. My parents were always willing to explain everything to me. To suddenly live in a house where there seemed to be no rhyme or reason for the rules really freaked me out. It took a while before we found a middle ground. Or so I thought. Maybe it just took a while before the reasons were ones he could tell me about.” Sam and Dean both nodded with you.

“Your uncle did get into hunting a bit, but he really was a Man of Letters, not a hunter. His shop was a hunters’ shop. He sold whatever hunters needed, and helped hunters with research if they asked. He sold the shop and did his best to get out of the life when you came to live with him because he didn’t want you getting into it. After you were grown and you moved out, he got sucked back in, it seems.” Sam faltered, and so did the static, giving you a quick shot of sadness and guilt before the static returned. You felt Dean’s arm move to the back of your chair.

“Sam? Just say it.” The tone in Dean’s voice worried you, and the fear coming from Dean didn’t help. You watched Sam struggle to keep himself together, and felt the static breaking up just a little to let out more sadness and guilt.

“He started getting calls from hunters again around 2007 or so.” Sam paused and looked down at his hands on the table. “Right after we killed the yellow-eyed demon.” The wave of sadness that came from Dean was almost visible to you. He immediately hung his head and sighed.

“When the Devil’s Gate opened and all Hell broke loose,” Dean said, quietly. Sam nodded. You stayed quiet, not even knowing what to say.

“He started researching and doing what he could without his shop. He kind of became like Bobby, only quieter, and less involved with field work. He wasn’t in much demand until after the Apocalypse started. After that, he was pretty much back in it full time. Being a librarian, he had access to a lot of research materials, so he had tons of hunters calling him. When he died, he was researching a demon that apparently wanted to curry favor with Lucifer, so was taking out hunters. His MO was to make it look like a heart attack.” Sam’s face was stoic, but the static coming from him was pulsing.

“Son of a bitch,” Dean whispered. Dean pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. You looked at Dean, and studied the guilt coming from him.

“What is it, Dean? Just tell me.” Dean looked at you so sadly you felt your heart ache.

“We were there when the Devil’s Gate was opened. We closed it again, but not before hundreds of demons escaped.” Dean studied his hands, refusing to look at you. You looked at Sam, and he was also studying his hands, or possibly the table, you couldn’t be sure which one. Turning to Cas, he was the only one willing to even glance at you.

“What the Winchesters don’t want to say is that we are the ones responsible for the Apocalypse. There were 66 seals that needed to be broken to free Lucifer from his cage, which was the beginning of the Apocalypse. Dean unknowingly broke the first. Sam was tricked into breaking the last. I was working with Heaven and had my own part to play, as well. We eventually stopped it…well, Sam stopped it…but it sounds like there’s a chance your uncle may have been killed by a demon released from Hell through the Devil’s Gate. Either way, that demon killed your uncle to curry favor with Lucifer.” You looked from Sam, who appeared to almost be shaking to stay in control, to Dean, who rubbed a hand over his face, and back to Cas, who just looked beaten down.

“So, what the three of you are trying to make me believe is that it’s your fault?” You watched all three men flinch. “So, the demon that actually killed my uncle…he isn’t responsible at all?” All three men looked up at you. “Because it sounds to me like any number of demons had a hand in my uncle’s death. Can I hazard a guess that the yellow-eyed demon was the one that opened the gate?” Sam and Dean sort of nodded and shrugged, then definitely nodded. “And I’m guessing it wasn’t Mother Theresa tricking you two into breaking seals.” The brothers both smirked and shook their heads. “And last time I checked, wasn’t Lucifer kind of a bad dude?” Sam winced, but Dean smirked. “So, how is it your fault? ‘Cause I don’t see it.” Dean chuckled.

“Well, if you’re going to put it that way….” Dean smiled at you and shook his head. “Leave it to you to try and let us off the hook.” You took Dean’s hand in yours, and reached for Sam’s.

“I don’t blame either of you. Though someday I want to hear more about this.” Both men looked unhappy with that request, until Cas chimed in.

“Well, she could always read the Winchester Gospels. They could give her an accurate….” Cas was interrupted by Sam and Dean both yelling over him. You looked at all three men with a smirk.

“The Winchester Gospels, huh? Are those sold at my local book store, or will I have to look for them online?” Sam and Dean both groaned and covered their faces with their hands. Sam’s wall of static came down for a long moment, and what you felt was pure embarrassment coming from both of them. You chuckled and pulled out your phone, opening up a search window.

[lexilikesthings]

Heritage: Part 6

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

Bull was back at Skyhold. And so was Stitches. Iron Bull listened to Stitches report of what he learned, nodding and taking mental notes as he went along, asking for the occasional clarification. Eventually, he was pretty sure he had the pieces he needed to complete the puzzle. Or at least to come close.

“Do I get to ask what this is about yet, ser?” Stitches asked with a glance that suggested he already had a hunch.

“Nope.”

“Very well. I’m off.”

--

He sat in his quarters, staring at what he’d written. Out of reflex and perhaps a desire to keep the matter private, he had written everything down in coded qunlat. However, now he had to decide what to do with this knowledge. The Inquisitor’s mood had been on the upside lately, they were closing in on Samson, destroying red lyrium operations left and right, and fade rifts were being closed all over. He knew she would want to know about this. He just hated that he’d have to be the one to tell her. He stuck the note in his back pocket and headed out of Herald’s Rest.

As luck would have it, Adaar was headed across the courtyard as Bull left the tavern. She smiled and waved, changing her course to greet him.

“Good to see you, Bull,” she said.

“Hey, Boss, you got a second to talk?”

Her head tilted. “Sure, what’s up?”

“Yeah, no, I was hoping for a more private discussion.”

Bull saw a glint in her eye that said she wanted to make a joke, but he wasn’t exactly trying to hide the dread he was feeling about this conversation, and she could tell it wasn’t the time.

“Sure...” Adaar turned and led him back across the grounds.

Bull could feel the note burning a hole in his pocket, practically weighing him down as he climbed the thrice damned stairs to the Inquisitor’s quarters. It was still early in the day, the sunlight hadn’t made its way through the west facing windows yet, and the lack of rays brought a slight chill to the room.

The Inquisitor leaned against her desk and crossed her arms, almost defensively. “So. What did you need to talk about?”

Bull sat on the corner of her bed and looked at her, studied her before he responded. He wanted to know how she’d react when he told her. “I investigated your mom’s death.”

Her whole demeanor changed. Her shoulders, previously square and tense, sagged as her whole posture seemed to deflate.

“Why would you... do that?” She seemed genuinely confused. At that moment Bull began to wonder if he should have done it at all, but he had and there was no changing that.

“Something didn’t feel right about it.”

“Yeah, no shit, Bull, my mother was burned to death in her home! Nothing about it was right!” She wasn’t leaning against the desk anymore, now she was leaning forward, furious and sad.

“That’s not what I mean-”

“Why would you do this? How long ago did you this? Why didn’t you tell me about it sooner?” With every question she took a step closer to him, angry tears building.

Bull sighed. “You know, I really hate being interrupted.” He stood up. “I didn’t want to tell you if there was nothing to tell.”

“I didn’t authorize this! I should have known before you even sent anyone out!” She took another step forward and jabbed a finger into his chest. “Dammit, Bull, you don’t get to do whatever you want, just because I- Because-” She didn’t seem to want to finish the sentence.

Bull grabbed her arm, and when her other arm came up to shove him away, he grabbed that one too. “Calm down. If you don’t calm down, I can’t tell you what I found out.”

Adaar shook her head, face tilted down so she wouldn’t have to look at him. “I don’t need to know- I don’t want to know.” She struggled against his grip.

“Yes, you do. Now take a deep breath.”

A few heavy moments passed where Adaar tried to vainly pull free of his grip before surrendering. She took a few shaky breaths and then a good solid one. “Okay.”

Bull gave a sigh of relief. “Okay.” he let her go and slowly guided her to sit on the bed. He stayed standing.

“I sent one of my guys to check out your village and ask around. I guess a lot of people had a lot to say about it, because he said it didn’t take long.” The Inquisitor wasn’t making eye contact. He crossed his arms. “I guess a few months beforehand, a guy, some merchant or trader passing through, said he saw a demon in the woods.” Adaar clenched her jaw. “No one paid him much mind. Then another traveler came through asking if the woods were haunted. A few people started asking questions, trying to get it investigated.” Bull paused, watching the Inquisitor attempt to keep her breathing regular. “Obviously the villagers new about your mom and she helped them out from time to time with stuff, but I guess the rumors just kept piling up until she went into town one day.” Adaar looked up. Bull almost wished she hadn’t. There was such pure curious sorrow etched onto her face. He cleared his throat and continued. “There were some travelers who saw her and whispered to each other and got shit rolling. Apparently there’s some argument over who threw it, but she got hit with some overripe produce. I guess the mob mentality took over at that point, shit started flying and they ran her out of town.”

Adaar stood up.

Bull held out his hands preemptively to calm her. “Wait.”

“Give me a second.” she stalked over to her desk. Paused. Then swept everything off the top with a guttural scream, proceeding to kick unsuspecting books and inkwells across the room. The rug was ruined. Josephine would likely be upset about that, Bull mused. 

“Hey...” He let the syllable hang in the air for a few moments, letting Adaar catch her breath. Her fists were clenched at her side and Bull really didn’t want to test if he could dodge them, so he stayed back. She was panting, deep heavy pants that were more like a breathing exercise than anything to do with exertion.

But then she walked back and sat right back down on her bed, ignoring the growing stench of the ink soaking into the floor. “Go on, then.” She was looking him in the eye now, sadness replaced by a sharp fury. He sighed.

“It’s not a good ending, but you know that already. The travelers and a good chunk of the townsfolk got some makeshift weapons together and went out after her later. Few of them said they just wanted her to leave, that they didn’t actually wanna hurt her.” Adaar barked out a humorless laugh. “Everybody’s pointing fingers at everyone else, but I think there might be an outside influence here.”

She didn’t respond at first. “What are you driving at, Bull?”

“I think someone might have set it up.” She rolled her eyes. “I’m serious,” he insisted.

“No you’re fucking not.” Adaar stood again and strode past Bull towards the balcony. He thought for a moment about grabbing her by the arm, stopping her, but figured it would be better to let her go. She didn’t actually go out onto the balcony, just stood in the doorway. “Not everything is a big conspiracy, Bull.” She turned to face him, bracing herself on the door frame with both hands. “Sometimes humans are just shitty.”

“Yeah,” Bull admitted. “But I’m thinking maybe this time it was a specific human.”

Adaar gave a huff. “And I suppose you’ve looked into that as well?”

“Actually, no, I haven’t.” He took a few cautious steps toward her. “I wanted to tell you what I had so far.”

“Good. Because you’re dropping this. Right now.” Adaar straightened up, her height nearly matching Bull’s. He wasn’t used to someone being able to look him in the eye without craning their neck. “I’m giving you an order, Iron Bull. Do not pursue this any further.”

Bull was surprised. He hadn’t expected a flat out cease and desist. “Boss, if there’s someone out there targeting people your close to-”

“I’m the Inquisitor, Bull. It comes with the territory.” Her tone was cold and her eyes practically dripped with venom. It made the hair on the back of Bull’s neck stand up. “Now, if you’re going to keep calling me Boss, I suggest you listen to what I’ve told you.” With that, she turned sharply to face her desk, seeming to forget the mess she’d made of it only moments ago. She stood there, still as the mountains outside. 

Bull gave an exasperated sigh through his nostrils. “I get that you’re mad. I won’t go any deeper into this.”

“If you wanted to dig into my past that badly, you could have just asked me,” Adaar said, quietly this time. Bull opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, she continued. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some letters to write,” and then, quieter, “and a floor to clean.”

Bull nodded, more to himself since she still wasn’t facing him. He left her quarters and didn’t stop until he was in his own. Something about the tavern didn’t seem like the right place to be just then. He pulled the note out of his back pocket and regarded it for a few minutes before, ultimately, slowly burning it over a candle until the blackened edges singed his fingertips.

[junkyardlynx]

Pt. 11

Nothing worked. The world happens, the world changes, the world, it is written here, in the next line, is only its own membrane—

Enlightenment. Vijay Seshadri.

---

Thomas scratched his cheek meekly, regarding the problem of the stranger he’d brought home as he stood in the kitchen, waiting for some water to boil. He had no parents to speak of and the uncle that was supposed to be his “guardian” simply left him money for food each month. There wouldn’t be any teen movie hijinks of hiding someone in his room only for his kind-but-suspicious mother to “accidentally” make too much dinner or anything like that. 

Rummaging around in the cupboards for a couple of tea bags, Thomas sighed. Why was he doing this? Obviously Jeal was being attacked and Sarisa defended him. The lady with the sword and mask was some kind of crazy ninja assassin. A crazy ninja assassin sitting on his couch. Was it because Jeal was rich? Like, he didn’t seem rich, but his crazy-weird dad owned a couple local businesses and they had that huge house. By all means, Thomas should be taking the side of his close friends.

But, ah. It was obvious.

Sarisa had used some kind of...magic. 

Not some Harry Potter wand waving stuff with dementors and the like. Like. Final Fantasy magic. With the elements and the -ga suffixes and the mana cost and the really overpowered party member who learned all the good spells and had the best materia.

Thomas was unable to be considered a thoughtful boy and that was because he simply couldn’t let the sheer wonder at such an event go. He had to know, and if he knew his friends (which it felt like he didn’t, really) he knew they wouldn’t tell him. They always “protected” him. They’d lie and call him crazy and make him doubt his own eyes until he buried the subject himself. They’d done it before. For his sake, they said.

Truthfully? 

He felt a little betrayed.

Jeal moved with supernatural grace and speed, stepping between every slash that girl had levied at him like it was boring. Every time Thomas replayed that scene in his head, it was more and more apparent that Jeal was simply playing with her. His friend’s red eyes, which seemed like a curious touch of albinism, now seemed preternatural and overly cruel. He was more a sculpture of ice than a person.

Shaking his head and sighing again, Thomas poured the boiling water over two bags of blueberry chamomile in two matching mugs, both reading “World’s Coolest Kid.” He thought it was funny. Steeping them for a practiced three-and-a-half minutes, he then discarded the bags in the trash and brought the tea out to the living room.

He sat one down in front of his guest, who regarded him with one cursory glance before picking it up. She seemed to use it as more of a hand-warmer than anything else as it was still far too hot to drink comfortably. 

“How’s the jaw?”

She winced at his words, rubbing it with her right hand. Luckily (or perhaps unluckily) it had merely been dislocated and Thomas had been able to snap it back into place for her. 

“Fine. And your hand?”

He gave it an exaggerated shake. She’d bitten into it when he was performing what one might call “amateur non-invasive surgery.” 

“Probably broken, I’ll chop it off later.”

She didn’t really smile, but her eyes seemed to lighten up.

“So uh, what’s your name?”

“Fujiwara. Yours?”

“Damn, you really get to the point. Not one wasted word. Uh, I’m Thomas. Nice to fix your face and also meet you.”

“Pleasured.”

He noted that for whatever else, she didn’t seem to actively dislike him. The thought was strangely comforting. Fujiwara was probably her family name or whatever.

“So uh, Fujiwara. Can you tell me why you were trying to fillet that weirdo alive?” 

“You know who he is.”

Shit. Shit shit shit shit shit shit shit. Of course she knows I know him if she’s hunting him, Thomas thought. It’d be stranger if she didn’t.

“I agreed to this because you do not know what he is. I would ask that you dispense with falsehoods.” 

“Uh, fair enough. So why were you trying to kill Jeal?”

“He’s a demon.”

In spite of himself, Thomas laughed. He laughed so hard that tea splashed out of his mug, landing with a wet little splat on the coffee table. He apologized quickly.

“Sorry. Uh. I’ve known him since we were like, four feet tall. Jeal’s not a demon.”

“You think demons cannot simply be born like any other creature? What do you know of demons? What do you know of Sarisa? What do you know of Jeal? Of magic? What do you know of any of this?”

Her words were cold, but not cruel. Fujiwara seemed to be genuinely inquiring as to what Thomas knew.

“I mean, I’m sure you know I’m gonna say magic isn’t real outside of games and books. Jeal and Sarisa are weird, but they’re not like, demons. Where’s the horns and flames and stuff? Or where’s the like, overwhelming sex appeal? Neither of ‘em have it for me, man.” 

“I only said Jeal was a demon, but your outlook is fair. They’ve lied to you and done the utmost to keep you from finding out the truth. I suppose it is a sort of mercy. After all, magic has a tendency to destroy the lives of whatever it touches.”

It sounded to Thomas like she was speaking from experience. He went to apologize again before swallowing his words with a swig of tea from his mug. Empty platitudes never served anyone well.

“Jeal Culaine is a demon, born to a family of mages from his father’s side while his mother is a youkai - a yuki-onna, to be precise. In the past, we pursued his mother as a matter of honor, but now our sole concern is Jeal’s existence. He should not be.”

“Well, right away I can tell you that you’ve got the wrong guy. Jeal’s last name isn’t Culaine, it’s Innhamlet.”

She looked terribly sad for a moment.

“Have you ever heard of the scion of a wealthy family attending a public school under an alternative name? This is a...similar case.”

Thomas set the mug down before he could drop it, masking his frustration and surprise remarkably well. He scratched behind his ear - all of his scratches were something of a nervous habit - and then spoke.

“So you’re telling me his last name is Culaine and he’s half-Japanese? Jesus, how many lies can one dude tell? That’s one hell of a backstory. What’s next, you’re gonna tell me that he’s like, some sleeping demon lord and he’s gonna nuke the entire earth? That’s a little too Marty Stu for me, Fuji.”

“You may not enjoy how close to the mark you are. I spoke of Jeal being a demon; this is both figurative and literal. In the figurative sense, he is simply too powerful to be left alone. His heritage gives him strange powers and draws strange things to him. His natural talent is also...quite terrifying.”

“So he’s really strong? But Jeal’s really kind. I don’t see how that’s a problem. He usually just does his own thing, and the only time I’ve ever seen him act out was to help, like...people like me. Mostly me, actually. Pretty much just me.”

“We have observed as much. Were this and this alone, we would simply be content to leave him be. The heart of the matter comes from the literal sense of the word demon.”

“I know enough about folklore to know that youkai are kinda demons or whatever, is that what you mean? Like, he’s a halfsies on his mom’s side, he should be pretty normal. A little cold, haha, but y’know. Normal.”

“Your poor humor aside, that is both what I mean and not entirely what I mean. As he is the offspring of a youkai, his mana - think of it as life essence - is heavily intoxicating to the inhuman. This, coupled with the sorcerer’s blood from his father, has attracted the attention of what you might equate to, ah, the devil.”

“Oh, okay. I see. So you’re fucking with me.”

“I am not. Do you know how many bled against Emirus to find information on this vessel?”

“Jeal’s dad? He’s way nice, too. I find this all really hard to actually beli-”

Fujiwara had begun to levitate off of the couch, still sipping her tea. Thomas realized that an innumerable amount of eyes stared back at him, peering from every exposed piece of Fujiwara’s skin. She levied her multitudinous stare at him.

“Okay. I get your point. Magic’s probably real. I still don’t really believe any of this, but go on.”

His words seemed more like a prayer to himself rather than a real denial. All the pieces were coming together, all the strange things he chose (or was told) to ignore. All the doubts he had, all the vague feelings. Every inconsistency lining up with a lie revealed by this stranger from a strange land.

“His name is Soritoroth. All of the classic Abrahamic demons draw their origins back to him, along with a few others that are somewhat more difficult to categorize. A detailed history would be a waste of time, but suffice it to say he is a calamitous event unto himself.”

“And what, he wants to wear Jeal like some kind of humansona?”

“Why do you insist on using words that both vex and amuse me? But yes. Jeal’s body and power are acting as a beacon for Soritoroth, though he can make use of any vessel that has bathed in the proper pow...ah, this is....”

Thomas found her two dark eyes on him, regarding him with a stark and clinical look. The rest had vanished. He wasn’t sure if they were an illusion or simply a part of her. He wasn’t very interested in finding out for sure.

“Uh?”

“It’s nothing. I was going to tell you that you seem to be a viable candidate due to your prolonged exposure to Jeal, but I’m sure your own latent magical prowess is far too lacking. As we thought, there appears to be the one vessel. That makes my mission all the more pressing.”

Fujiwara stood up, checking her body with a few pats. She pulled the mask out of her robe, channeling a bit of her strange power into it. It seemed to ripple, restoring the lost material, once again reflecting the face of a terrifying oni. She gave Thomas a short bow.

“The tea was...delicious. Thank you. I appreciate your help. If I may offer a word of warning?”

“Uh, shoot.”

“Do not act differently around those two. They are uncannily attentive. Though I know quite little about Sarisa, her own lineage is storied and the both of them are, frankly, absurd; both seek out trouble and revel in it.”

“And you’re gonna try and murder him again, knowing that?”

“I suppose. It is all I can do.”

“How about...”

His voice trailed off. This was betrayal most supreme. He’d have to change his name to Thomas Judas after this. But he felt that this was the only way to really save his friends.

“How about you let me help?”

“Excuse me?”

“I love those guys. There’s got to be another way. Just let me be your inside man and I’ll do what I can, you know? There’s always another way that doesn’t involve Jeal mopping the floor with you again.”

“You are...not entirely incorrect.”

“So it’s a deal?”

Fujiwara considered Thomas for a long moment, arms crossed over her chest. Eyes simultaneously like honeyed amber and black mud regarded him, dissected him a thousand ways, looked into what he was. At least, that’s how it felt to Thomas. He felt very small under her stare.

“If you continue to serve tea of this quality and allow me to reside here as I plan, then I suppose it is.”

Thomas thrust his hand out and Fujiwara took it, thin and pale lips finally curling into a real smile. She was terse at first, but she had gradually opened up over the course of their questionable conversation. It felt like all disjointed pieces were coming together now. He could begin to see the big picture - where his friends would go when they gave vague excuses, what they were doing, who they really were. In the end, it didn’t matter to him. They were the people he loved, and he was going to protect them this time. He’d help them like they always helped him. He’d save Jeal from both this assassin and whatever was coming for him. Things felt good. Things finally made sense.

Of course, their hard times had just begun.

[illyrian-of-themyscira]

A Court of Lost Things

SECOND PART

              The horse’s hooves click over the cobblestones as we make our way through the city.  People pause to wave at their prince and one woman in a tight, green dress winked with a flirty gesture and adding extra swagger.  Yet when I glanced back at Calev, he was staring straight ahead, never noticing any of the women who seem to be looking at him like some kind of delicious treat. My eyes drank in his beautiful features and in my pain-filled haze I reached up, running my fingers over his lips. As his wide eyes flick down to me with an expression I can’t understand, I suddenly realize what I’ve done. It’s like something inside me just needed…to touch him. My thumb strokes down his jaw and something sparks in me.  I quickly look away and press my hand into my lap. The same hand that I touched him with and is now tingling between my fingers. Calev lets go of the reins with one hand and braces it against my thigh.  I open my mouth to tell him to stop but then I started to sway and that hand seemed to be the only thing keeping me from tumbling off the horse.  The grand palace looms over us and the golden gates open wide, the metal groaning on its weight.  The horse stops near the stables and Calev moved, dismounting the horse. He stood before me and his hands braced my hips as he lifts me off and then shifts me into his arms.  Carrying me into the grand entrance, I tuck myself into his warm embrace. I wanted to curse at him for carrying me, for thinking I am a damsel in distress, but I said nothing because if he didn’t carry me I don’t know what I’d do. I could hardly move half of my body.  The pain climaxed through me as I tried to lift it up and everything went black.

              I drifted in and out of consciousness, hearing voices murmuring around me. I couldn’t understand one word the voices were saying, even as I tried to. Hands softly brush my hair away from my face and I sighed. It felt like a comfort and I thought it might have been my father, had I not remembered that I wasn’t anywhere near him at all. Not near my family. My home.

I blink my eyes to open and saw a shadow of a person over me. As I blinked my eyes again to see more clearly, I could see a patch of white hair and black swirls of a tattoo on the person’s neck. I closed my eyes again, too tired to keep them open. Something deep in my heart knew that Calev was different, he was something else to me.  Yet I didn’t know what.

              “I have to go, little bat. I will be back soon.  Hang in there till I come back and don’t worry, you will be safe.”  I felt a slight pressure against my head and warmth filled my body.  Calev’s lips.  When he pulled away, I heard a slight intake of breath.  “I will be back as soon as I can,” his voice sounded shocked.  Footsteps retreated and I heard the sound of the door being shut.

              I groaned as I moved to sit up but found my arms weighed down by chains.  A gasp escapes me as I look around to realize I am in a dank cell.  There were walls of brick all around me apart from the bars.  Fear creeps up to me as I call for my magic and find it flickering just out of reach.  A noise of devastation fell from my lips. Had Calev really thrown me in prison? And I just now realize that the pain I felt before is gone and that I am completely healed. I didn’t get why he would have me healed just to throw me inside of this…hellhole.  Though this wouldn’t be the end. I had my family waiting for me in some other world or reality and getting back to them was my main priority. And I know that my parents are probably trying to find ways to get me back right this very second. I tried to stand but found the chains on my hands restricted the movement.  I felt my wings rustle behind me at the movement and with a shock, I found that my magic fell away from them. They probably showed up when I was passed out.  Biting my lip, I reach deep inside where my power thundered within me, but the more I reached the farther away it slips.

              A growl rips from my chest at the inability to reach it.  In Prythian, I rival my mother and father’s powers, and being unable to reach it now made me beyond angry.  When I failed to lure my magic back to me, I look around for a weakness in the chain but to no avail.

              Feet echoed through the hall before me as a guard stops in front of my cell carrying a tray full of what I’m assuming to be food. He slides the tray towards me and starts to walk away before-

              “Wait!”  At my words the guard stops and gives me a long look.

              “What?”

              “Why am I imprisoned?”

              “That’s not for me to say,” the guard answers stiffly.

              “Come on Joseph. Surely the little creature could use an explanation,” I could hear laughter in the voice and another guard showed before the light.

              The first guard turned and gave him a look of uncertainty. “Zachariah, the king and queen-”

              “You are imprisoned due to your coming from this world called ‘Prythian’ that we have never seen or heard of before and we do not know if you are a friend or foe.  The King and Queen fear you maybe something else, like the Valg.”

              “Two things: what has the prince said about this? And what the hell is a Valg?”  I tripped over the word, ‘Valg’.

              “The prince had nothing to say because he is on a mission for a few weeks and a Valg is a demon-like creature. Absolute disgusting.” His face turned, like he smells something foul.

              “Wait, so they locked me up down here after the prince left?”

              “Well after you were well enough to be moved, but yes.”  A snarl ripped from my throat causing the guards to take a step back.  I reached out and grabbed the bread as the guards made their way back. Sniffing it to check for poison, I found none so I took a huge bite. I have to get out of these chains.  

My eyes traveled to where they were bolted to the floor.  It looked as if it had almost been melted but how could that be?  Biting my lip, I chewed on the bread thoughtfully.  If my dad were here he would probably charm the guards.  Charming things had never been my strong suit which was strange because both of my parents were good charmers. I have always seemed more like Amren, I suppose, or my aunt Nesta.  Aunt Nesta was like a viper and that’s one thing I admire about her. Tugging on the chain to test its strength, I found it to be hardened steel.  My only option was magic which I can’t use because it seems like a far away echo in my mind.  Well…I could come up with another way to approach my magic.

              For the next several hours, I try dozens of ways to get my magic to no avail.  I plunge head first; I plunge feet first; I shout; I pretend to be my father and coax it out; I whisper to it.  Nothing.  I push my hair back and a frustrated scream fell from my gritted teeth. Pulling and clawing at the chains in my anger, I do not feel the pain and the blood dripping from my fingers didn’t matter to me.  Hard stone presses into my palms as I brace my arms against the floor.  A cold seeps into my bones, one that has little to do with the moisture in the cell and more to do with the dread that is slowly taking over my mind.  My wings wrap around me, creating a comfortable cocoon of velvet black.  If I closed my eyes I could almost smell the scent of the sea, hear the roar of the ocean, feel the cool breeze on my face.  I could imagine that if I moved my wings I could dive into the waves then go back to the city to eat some ice cream and then sit with my mother at her art studio, watching her paint and laughing at the memorable stories she tells me of her past.  But I knew the moment I  move my wings away, I would still be in this dank cell with bloodied hands, a faint smell of pine which was covered up by the smell of piss and vomit.

              A thought came to me. What if I tried to slowly bring my magic to me?  So I did, inch by starry inch.  I felt night come to me as it curls around my arms then twining with the Illyrian tattoos over my chest and back.  Hour by hour, more of my magic curled around me.  Night flowed around the dark cell, stars weaved around my head.  Dancing over my wings and sliding down the claws that tip my wings.  I felt my mother’s powers start to well within me.  Not as powerful as hers but the water in the cell danced along the stars, flares of light shining in the darkness, fire joined the dance, and soon my powers were all spinning around me.

              Eyes closed, I concentrated on breaking the chains and then… The chain disappeared. I stood, my wings stretching as far as they could.  I had an impressive wingspan for a female and I was proud of that as I shook them out in the small cell.  A proud smirk pulled at my lips and I winnowed out of the cell.  Reining my powers back in, I walked up the only stairway upwards.  Ascending the mold covered stairs, I listen for any guards beyond the doors but hear none.  With another winnow I am walking through the elaborate corridors.  A group of servants’ chatter around the corner and slipping behind a pillar, I search their minds for where the throne room is.  I almost don’t find it in time but just at the last second, I find the location.  My feet make no noise as I avoid the shafts of sunlight coming from the giant windows to my right and I stick in the shadows as Uncle Azriel taught me.  Quickly and quietly, I move to the throne room.  Avoiding any guards or servants haunting the halls, I didn’t consider hiding my wings and instead choosing to show off my heritage.

              Finally, I reach the large golden doors, it depicted a mark of a stag staring at me in a wooded forest.  A hawk sits above the stag on a tree, staring at me with its hooded eyes as if debating whether or not to kill me.  Taking a deep breath and shaking out my wings, I shove the doors open and saunter into the throne room.

              Inside, I find two royals sitting upon the thrones.  A white wolf, a large leopard, and a tall male with golden hair and tan skin stood near them.  The king and queen on the throne stood as the wolf shifted into one of the most beautiful males I had ever seen. They all stood at the ready for a fight.  The queen stepped in front of all of them with a look of wrath on her face.  Before she even spoke, she launched herself at me with daggers in her hands.  I winnowed away from her and she froze, spinning with wide eyes.

              “What are you?” Her shriek filled the throne room.  As the white haired male came up behind her I realized with a start how much Calev looked like him. These were his parents.  I was surrounded now but they were no match for me.  Night started to wrap around me, readying for the attack that was to come.

              The doors burst open again and there stood Calev.  His chest heaving as if he had been running here.  Calev walked up to me, pushing past his parents to get to me.  His hand reached for my arm but I jerked away from the touch. With his back to me, he turned toward his parents.

              “What is going on here?”

              “Calev, step away from her.  She has escaped.”

              “Escaped? She wasn’t supposed to be imprisoned in the first place! I saved her because she was in trouble,” the growl in his voice and his protective stance filled the air with a haunting dread and it makes me uncomfortable. What he is insinuating was between us.

              “So you bedded the girl? Nice job, boy,” the once wolf purred at him.  Calev tensed but said nothing.  I would not be spoken of like that though.

              “Excuse me?  I am not some prize to be taken! Nor have I had any relations with this male,” I spat the word male.  “I have no idea how the hell I got here.  I don’t know any of you and I just want to go home!”  My breath came out fast and harsh now, the power I had was swirling around me now, fueled by my emotions.  Calev turns to me with a look of surprise.

              “This male? You wound me, little bat.” Calev presses his hand to his heart but I roll my eyes wanting to pluck his out.

              “I am NOT a little bat,” I snap.  His eyes flick to my wings.

              “Could’ve fooled me, little bat,” the way he enunciates the words makes me want to punch him in the face.

              “Enough,” the king says.  “What do you mean how you got here? As in how you got to Terrasen?”  I turn to the king.

              “To this world.”

 written by me First part:https://velarisoncanvas.tumblr.com/post/161524563013/a-court-of-lost-things

edited by the amazing @crazy-fangirl16

More to come!! I’ll be tagging people if they want