#i wonder if all his soul shifter gold made up for it

[fake-married-my-dead-fiance]

I would love to know what portion of the Jang family fortune went to diplomatically paying for every time Jang Uk pissed someone off or broke something...

[starlitangels]

Lord and Lady

I was showing @zozo-01 a drawing I was working on and the poses I found in the app looked good together even if they weren’t the vibes for the characters that I wanted, but I realized they were really good poses for an Imperium version of them. 3.5k words (This one is featuring my OC for Morgan’s listener, Everly, because I have cover art lower in the post!) (Part 2)

—

Baaabe

Asher growled in frustration, crumpling up a paper and hurling it into the fireplace as hard as he could, where it shriveled up and vanished. “This is pointless,” he grumbled. “The demon who wrote this—this Avior—” he shook a piece of paper with the demon’s name on it. “—is right. There’s no way to get the word out. The imperium controls all the media and if anyone finds out the information came from a demon, no one would believe it.”

I sighed and leaned back on the threadbare sofa of the pack den. “There’s gotta be some way.” I rubbed my temples, trying to stave off a headache. “Someone with no love left for the Imperium but a lot of power in the Imperium... Asher?”

The shifter’s eyes had glazed over, but he was staring at me. “There is one. High-ranking. Everyone knows he hates the Imperium, but he’s too powerful to mess with. They say even the King-Imperial is scared of him.”

“So... someone way out of our league, then.”

Asher made a face. “Technically... yes. But... remember Milo’s mate?”

“The Stealth?”

He nodded. “Yeah. They’re the most powerful Stealth in the country. And this guy values power. He tried to recruit them at one point. If they were to make an introduction... vouch for us... I am still the alpha of the largest shifter pack in Dahlia. We might be able to score an audience with him.”

“Do you think this guy will listen to us?”

Asher picked at his nails. His amber eyes caught the warm incandescent light and turned gold. “Only way to know is to try. But... I think he might.”

“Why?”

“He knows what’s coming. He has to.”

“Huh?”

Asher met my gaze. When had he looked away? “He’s a Seer. And he’s Obscura.”

I swore under my breath. No wonder the King-Imperial was scared of him. The king could surround himself with as many Seers as he damn well pleased and would never know something was coming for him from a Seer Obscura.

Asher pulled out his phone and dialed a number. I recognized the name of Milo’s mate as it auto-filled. “Hey. I need you to figure out how to get in touch with Lord Morgan Kyne.”

—

Everly

I perched lightly on the arm of Morgan’s chair, crossing my ankles, regarding the man in front of us thoughtfully, head tilted just slightly to the side to keep my hair out of my face.

“What do you think, gumdrop?” Morgan asked, running the back of one knuckle down my bare thigh that my dress left exposed. He barely glanced at me, bottomless ocean blue eyes piercing right into my soul, as they always did.

I flicked my gaze back to the man in the reception room. “I think he needs to take some time to cool off.” I glanced at one of the guards at the back of the room. “Put him on ice. Two hours should do the trick, don’t you think, darling?” I leaned just slightly against Morgan’s shoulder.

“A perfect decision, as always, my dear,” Morgan replied. He waved for the guard to come forward.

Xavier wasted no time in cooling the man off and dragging the popsicle out of the room. Morgan chuckled and wrapped an arm around my waist.

Once the door was shut, he relaxed a little. I reached up and brushed a few fingers into the glossy black hair on the back of his head. He gave me that wicked smile of his that made my heart flutter. “Oh, my dear Everly, you really are vicious, you know that?”

I smirked at him. “I learned from the best, darling.” I hooked one finger under his chin, drew it up, popped a kiss on his smiling mouth, flicked my finger out from under his chin, and slid off the arm of his chair, moving toward the door at the back of the reception room.

It burst open before I could reach it. “Sir!” a young voice exclaimed.

“What is it, Wexler?” Morgan asked sharply as I backed up to stand beside his chair again. Ever the dutiful lieutenant.

Nate held out a piece of paper as he came around to the front of the chair. I could see the format of a printed email on it. “Remember that Stealth you tried to recruit a few years ago?”

“That powerful one down in Dahlia? Who refused to leave on account of their shifter mate?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Obviously. What about them?”

“They reached out to us. Their mate’s alpha would like an audience with you. They vouched for him.”

Morgan held out a hand. Wexler passed the paper over. I read the email over Morgan’s shoulder, putting one hand on his back and rubbing between his shoulder blades.

“What do you think?” Morgan asked, looking up at me. No mask of ruthlessness painted over his features. Just genuine curiosity.

I flicked my hair out of my face. “I will admit to being curious,” I said. “The wording of this feels... urgent. Why don’t we hear him out?”

“Very well.” He passed the paper back to Wexler. “Respond and agree. Pick an appointment time.”

Wexler bowed. “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.” He scurried out of the room. The door shut loudly behind him.

“Mm... you frighten him,” I remarked.

“I should,” Morgan replied with a scoff. “You’d scare him even more if he knew you weren’t actually an Illusory.”

“Mmhmm.” I went to follow Nate back through the door.

“Miss Tanner. I didn’t say you could go.”

I rolled my eyes, an amused smile on my face. “Then come with me. We have an hour or so before our next appointment. Might as well make some good use of that time, huh?” I winked at him, backing up toward the door.

Morgan’s wicked smirk turned lascivious. “Mm. Why didn’t you just say so?”

“I like to keep my lord in suspense,” I teased as he stood from his chair and strode toward me.

—

Asher

This wasn’t the first time Asher had presented himself before high-ranking members of the Imperium. Even before he became the alpha, he’d been before powerful people. Usually standing on David’s right side and slightly behind as the second-in-command.

He kept the unempowered human behind him as they strode into the... audience chamber.

“Make this worth my time, alpha,” a voice ordered.

“I’ll do my best, Lord Kyne,” Asher replied.

At the far end of the room, on a large red-and-mahogany chair, sat Lord Morgan Kyne. Seer Obscura. His hair was cold black, almost blue in the light. His eyes were deep blue and Asher knew they were looking at more than just him, here and now. He and the woman beside his chair were fair of complexion. Neither of their skins blemished by scars. Asher wasn’t ashamed of his scars, but the wolf lurking just beneath his skin raged at the idea that the Imperium didn’t leave everyone hurt.

Asher focused on the woman beside the throne-like chair. She was petite. Not much taller than five-feet. A shock of long hair tumbled down past her hips, pure white despite the obvious youth in her face. Her eyes were even darker blue than Lord Kyne’s—so deep they were practically violet. Though, perhaps that was an optical illusion given the short, satin dress she wore was a dark purple. Speaking of illusions... her aura was that of an Illusory.

Asher hated himself for bowing, but he did it anyway. A sign of respect for a man who could do much worse things than just throw him and the unempowered human beside him out of the building. They bowed too, looking less awkward about it. They were probably used to it.

Asher’s blood boiled again.

“Lord Kyne,” Asher began. “If I may, I requested to speak with you alone.”

“We are alone.” Lord Kyne gestured to the lack of guards in the room.

Asher’s eyes flicked to the woman as he tried to figure out how to politely ask the lord to get her to leave.

Morgan Kyne’s gaze followed. He smirked. “Ah,” he said. He looked back to Asher. “She stays. She is my lieutenant—and the only person on this godforsaken plane that I trust.”

“Trust isn’t something that’s been afforded to me,” Asher remarked.

“Well. Let’s just say Everly and I have a lot in common. Now stop wasting my time, alpha. Get to the point, or get out,” Morgan snapped.

Asher wanted to growl, but managed to keep it down. He glanced at the unempowered human behind him. They nodded reassuringly. He looked back to Morgan and... Everly, was it?

“The Meridian is going to collapse,” he said.

Everly’s face was completely calm. “We know,” she said.

“And you’re not concerned?” Asher asked sharply. “We’re all going to die if it falls!”

“Watch your tone,” Morgan snapped.

It was harder for Asher to keep the wolf in his chest from rearing its head.

—

Everly

I watched the unempowered human set a hand on the small of the shifter’s back. The contact seemed to calm him down. An easy smirk began to spread up my face. I managed not to chuckle, but only barely.

How quaint. In a world that was going to Hell in a handbasket, a human and a shifter had fallen in love.

Though, according to the future stretched out ahead of them, neither had admitted it yet. They would, apparently, in just about every possibility. But hadn’t yet.

“What would you have me do?” Morgan asked the alpha.

Who took a step forward. “Get the word out! Tell everyone that we’re all going to die within the next few years—max—if we don’t put sanctions on magic usage. Start putting some pressure on the King-Imperial to do the same. He’s scared of you—he’ll listen to you.”

I watched the amber eyes of the shifter seem to glow.

“And if I don’t?” Morgan continued blithely.

“Then all the power and Sight in the world won’t keep us all from dissolving the second the Meridian collapses,” the alpha snarled. “Everything you’ve built will come undone and humanity will be at an end. Can’t enjoy your wealth and power when we’re all dead!”

“Mind your tone,” Morgan said, not rising to the bait. The deathly calm in his voice caught the alpha’s attention. His amber eyes flicked to me. I stared back at him with an impassive expression. I doubted he could even feel my magic burning, Seeing his future. Non-Seers never really could tell when a hidden Seer was using their Sight, I’d noticed.

The alpha looked back to Morgan. “Talk to the King-Imperial. Put some pressure on him to limit magic usage long enough to save the Meridian. The only way to save our plane of existence is to reduce the amount of magic constantly being ripped from Aria.”

Morgan glanced at me. “Gumdrop?” He held an arm out. I sat on his lap, the way he drew me closer to him, and looked at the alpha. “What do you think, my dear?”

I tilted my head, letting my hair fall away from my face. “Is this a cause you believe in, alpha?”

“When my pack calls me that, it’s a sign of respect. Why does it sound like an insult from you two?”

I smirked. “Years of practice,” I replied. “Is this a cause you’re willing to die for, alpha?”

“It’s a cause we’ll all die for,” he retorted.

“That doesn’t answer my question.” I surged off of Morgan’s lap and flared my magic. Illusory blades started spinning in the air as real fire ignited on the floor. The shifter alpha grabbed the unempowered human—who had been decidedly quiet, despite the look of defiance and fury I’d seen on their face—to his chest, holding them close. Protectively.

“Everly,” Morgan warned. “You’re going to give yourself away.”

“He’s close, darling,” I whispered. “His threads are on the cusp.”

“This is the wrong way to go about it.”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” I hissed.

I stepped closer, drawing the ring of fire closer to the alpha and his human. The room started to warm up, feeling came back into my bare toes that had gone numb hours ago.

“Are you willing to die for this cause, alpha?” I repeated.

“Leave them alone, they didn’t ask for this!” the alpha said, indicating the human in his arms.

“Are you willing to die for them—and their cause?” I asked.

Morgan hopped off the chair and yanked me back toward him by my elbow. “That’s enough, Everly.”

I dropped the fire and the illusions.

The alpha stared at me. “How did you do that?” he asked breathlessly, coughing on smoke and rubbing the human’s back. “An Illusory shouldn’t be able to use that much fire magic.”

I shrugged. “You’ll figure it out tonight when you stub your toe on the desk in your hotel room,” I replied.

The alpha took the human’s hand. “C’mon. We’re wasting our time and theirs. We’ll figure something else out.” He started to storm toward the door.

“It worked,” I whispered.

“Wait,” Morgan called. A snap of his fingers made iron bars spring from the floor in front of the door.

The shifter looked like he was going to take on his wolf form and pry the bars apart with his bare paws if he had to.

“Tell him, darling,” I said to Morgan.

“The threads of your future shifted, Asher,” Morgan said.

—

Baaabe

Asher turned around, slowly. “What?” he ground out.

“When you walked in here, you were determined, and the most likely outcome of your future was a fight to save our reality,” Morgan explained. I tightened my grip on Asher’s hand.

“And now?”

“Now your future strayed toward the likelihood of being willing to die for that fight.” Morgan folded his arms. The white-haired woman—Everly, Lord Kyne had called her—leaned against his shoulder. “It was that willingness that we were looking for. Because that’s the conviction of someone who truly believes in the cause they fight for. And the only thing worth our time.”

Asher looked like he was going to lose his temper any second. I let go of his hand and wrapped my arms around him to stop him from shaking with fury. “Asher,” I whispered. “Don’t.”

Everly was watching us with those dark eyes of hers, violet in the deep light. There was something I couldn’t fathom in her gaze. Her impassive expression held the barest trace of a grin.

Morgan Kyne leaned back against his lieutenant. “Everly, my dear,” he said, not looking at her while regarding us. “How does it sound to play a little game with our... old friend, the King-Imperial?”

That trace of a grin turned into a wicked smirk. “It sounds delightful, my darling. I think I know just the pressure point to squeeze on him.” She examined her nails. One closer peek revealed to me that they were heavily bitten, not as perfectly-manicured as I’d expect from someone in her position. She finally met Morgan’s gaze, raising a finger and running it lightly over her bottom lip. “Xavier!” she called.

A guard slipped through a hidden door in the wall. He was about as tall as Asher and similarly-built. Toned, but not so muscular that it looked uncomfortable. Athletic but agile. He stood at attention, not looking at either Asher or me, but I could tell he’d clocked us and sized us up the second he entered the room. His eyes were the frostiest blue I’d ever seen.

“Escort these two back to their hotel,” Everly ordered. “With all the perks that entails.”

Asher pushed himself between me and the guard. “I can keep us both safe. I’m an alpha, for God’s sake.”

Everly smiled wickedly. “Nevertheless, you’re playing with the big kids now, Asher. Xavier, don’t let them out of your sight.”

“Yes, my lady,” he replied. He looked at us. “Come with me.”

Asher looked like he wasn’t going to agree, but I tightened my grip on him. “Asher. Let’s go with it for now.”

He ground his jaw. “Fine.”

We followed Xavier out of the audience chamber as the bars lowered back into the floor.

Xavier stuck with us through the city as we made our way back to the hotel. Lord Morgan Kyne didn’t live in Dahlia, despite most people of significant power staying close to the King-Imperial, but the flight had been short.

At the hotel, Xavier stopped us before we got to the elevators, instead taking us to the front desk. He leaned against the wood, and I saw ice crystals gathering on it around his touch. A Fire Contra-Elemental. “Good afternoon,” he said, good-naturedly. “Lord Morgan Kyne sends his regards, and asked for the perks for these two.” He gestured to me and Asher, setting an ID badge on the table, proving he was really with Lord Kyne.

The desk manager went a bit green around the gills. “Of course, sir.” She swallowed and looked at the two of us. “We’ll get your bags moved to the new rooms right away.”

“Wait, what—” Asher started to protest.

Xavier winked at the woman as she handed him a pair of key cards and whisked back to us. “Follow me,” he said.

He took us to the elevators and hit the button for the top floor. “What’s going on?” Asher growled, taking my hand protectively. “What did Kyne and that woman mean?”

“Lord Kyne and Lady Tanner like to... protect their friends, shall we say.”

“Meaning?”

“You’ll see.”

We rode the rest of the elevator shaft in silence, though I could tell Asher was about to vibrate out of his skin with irritation. I squeezed his hand again.

Xavier led us down the hall to a pair of doors. He handed us each a key card. “Like Her Ladyship said, you’re playing with the big kids now,” he said. “Go on. They open up into each other, if you’re worried.” He chuckled as I tentatively approached the door he indicated, Asher going to the other.

The suite that opened up in front of me was grander than anything I’d ever seen in my life. Unempowered humans didn’t tend to be afforded much luxury in the Imperium.

“What the hell...” Asher sounded astounded. And I remembered the threadbare furniture back in Dahlia at the den. Shifters weren’t afforded luxury either.

Xavier chuckled. “Get some good sleep. I’ll come get you both in the morning for a proper meeting with Lord Kyne and Lady Tanner.”

“Great,” Asher muttered sarcastically.

We ducked into the rooms and shut the doors. I crossed immediately to the one that would open up the suites to each other and yanked my side of the door open. His door didn’t have a knob on my side. I knocked. His side opened. “You really think this is gonna work?” I asked. “Do you trust them?”

“Kyne and that woman? No. But I have to trust that they’ll keep their word. Both have a reputation for doing so. No matter what that promise is.”

“Who is that woman, anyway?”

“Apparently, his right-hand. And probably lover.” He waved me into his suite and gestured toward a sofa. I sat down on it. “Whether there’s any real love between them is none of my business. If there is it’s twisted. You saw what they were like.”

“Yeah,” I agreed. “Not uncomfortable at all.”

He snorted. “No kidding.” He moved to the small, but full kitchen in the suite—and slammed his toe right into the desk between the living area and the kitchen. “Motherf—” He cut himself off. “Oh my God.”

“What?”

“Everly—her aura read as an Illusory. But she said I’d figure out why her fire magic was so strong when I came back to the hotel and stubbed my toe on the desk.”

“Uh... okay?”

“She’s not an Illusory. She’s another Seer!” Asher swore, throwing his hands in the air. “No wonder she and Kyne get along so well! They’re both Seers! They can both learn any magic at a specialist level. She just hides what she is—it’s a damn power play and we fell right for it.”

“Does it change anything?”

“No. But no wonder they scare the King-Imperial so much. They could overthrow him in one night,” Asher said. He scuffed his fingers through his hair. “This just got a whole lot more complicated.”

“It’ll be okay, Asher. We’re still fighting. And those two seem like they’re going to help. Even if they’re just doing it to spite the King-Imperial.”

He gave me a soft look. “Yeah. We’ll keep fighting.”

I love you, I thought. I don’t know how to say it yet. But I’ve fallen in love with you. I’m not just fighting for our reality, anymore. I’m fighting for a proper future with you. Would you want that? If we save our world, would you spend your life with me? The way I want to spend mine with you?

“So... what’s next?”

[stratiotis-nth]

The few times Cas spoke about his true form, Dean had always imagined some terrifying robed creature with a bazillion heads and rotating rings and fifty giant wings from different animals. He imagined mighty beings that embodied the idea of God’s warriors. Cas once said his true form was size of the Chrysler building, and Dean had had to hide just how impressive the angel was despite looking and acting like a total dork. Cas as Cas was intimidating enough, but Castiel—the Chrysler-sized warrior of divinity—sounded terrifying and majestic all at the same time.

But apparently, Cas had omitted a few details. He had neglected to tell Dean that little bits of his true form lingered with him while he was in human form, some additions that couldn’t be seen but existed with him in another plane of reality.

So imagine Dean’s shock when he’s on a case and accidentally uses the holy fire glasses in his insurance company disguise. He didn’t even realize the difference until Cas joined him and Sam to help.

They were dealing with a Shifter who had been killing old people in a wealthy neighborhood in upstate New York. Cas, a fully functioning angel again, had offered to help when Sam and Dean realized they were up against a Shifter duo instead of a loner.

Sam was out getting grub when Cas appeared in the motel room with a whoosh of wings. Dean knew how much Cas had missed flying, and even he had missed hearing him announce his presence with that characteristic whoosh.

“Hey Cas.” Dean greeted without looking up from the laptop.

“Hello, Dean.” Was the usual response. He flicked his gaze up to Cas briefly, peering over the rim of the glasses he hadn’t bothered taking off. Dean did a double take when he caught a flash of black within the glasses’ lens. Frowning, he pushed the frames up his nose until he could squint through them properly. A sharp intake of breath caught in his throat.

“Dean?”

Cas’ voice floated through his mind but he couldn’t process it. He stared at the Castiel revealed through the lens, abso-fucking-lutely floored.

A pair of black wings, ones Dean had only ever seen the shadow or scorched remains of before, were folded neatly against Cas’ back. As the afternoon sunlight hit the feathers, Dean could see them shimmering and reflecting all the colors of the rainbow subtly. The feathers looked spun of night sky and stardust, light as clouds but dense and powerful was cooling lava. Dean had a really, really strong urge to run his fingers through them. They looked like they’d make his fingers tingle with lightning.

Alongside the wings, the other newly revealed part of Cas was his halo. He had never mentioned one before, so Dean had just assumed halos were just another one of those things crazy Christians made up. But apparently, angels did had halos, because there was a thin ring of glowing light surrounding Cas’ head like a circlet, hovering above his ears and just a few inches away from his hair and forehead. It gleamed an ethereal pale gold, almost white, light. As he looked at it closer, he noticed a few gaps in the ring, like jagged cracks where pieces had fallen away. Were they supposed to be like that?

Dean was so shocked that he wondered how the hell he was even seeing these parts of Cas now. It took him a moment for his sluggish brain to piece together that he must had accidentally taken the holy fire glasses instead of another fake pair.

“Dean? Are you alright?”

He blinked, still taking in the halo and wings, and cleared his throat. Cas was frowning at him in concern, his head tilted adorably to the side. The halo drifted and followed a half second behind his movement.

“Uh—“ a strangled noise escapes Dean’s throat. His fingers itched to dig themselves into those feathers, to trace that halo and try to feel the warmth of light. He swallowed thickly, his throat clicking. The words fell out of his mouth before he could stop them.

“Are there supposed to be cracks in that thing?”

Cas blinked at him, thoroughly confused. A split second later, his face both flushed and paled at the same time. Dean worried the sudden blood flow would make him pass out, but then he remembered Cas was an angel.

“Those glasses have been burned in holy fire, haven’t they?” He asked, his wings tucking more firmly against his back like he was trying to hide them.

“Uh, uh yeah.” He stammered, wondering if he should say something to ease Cas’ obvious insecurity. “Grabbed ‘em by accident.”

Cas shuffled his feet awkwardly, the light of his halo dimming shyly. He obviously wasn’t going to offer any information unless Dean pressed a little more.

“So?” He managed to sound somewhat casual, even though his heart was beating loudly in his ears. “What’s with the missing pieces?”

“Ah.” Cas rumbled in his low voice. He avoided Dean’s eyes, his chipped halo floating after every movement of his head. “Well, to angels, the halo represents purity and devotion to God. It is the manifestation of each angel’s divinity. When Lucifer rebelled against Heaven, his halo was shattered as a sign of disgrace and he was banished to Hell. Other angels like Gabriel and Anna had a chip broken off because they rejected Heaven and their loyalties were to their own well-being. Angels cannot exist fully if their halos are damaged, but because Gabriel was an archangel and Anna became human, they were exceptions.”

Dean frowned. But Cas had way more than one piece missing and he was still alive and still an angel.

“So how come you’re still around?” He asked, waving a hand at Cas’ cracked halo.

“Because I was created already broken.” The words, delivered in a flat, emotionless tone, still cut through Dean’s heart. That wasn’t true. Cas wasn’t broken. He was just Cas. Perfectly fine the way he was. “As you have heard from many angels and Chuck himself, I came off the line with a crack in my chassis. I was created to be flawed.”

“Cas…” Dean began, trying to find the words to tell him that it wasn’t true, that everything Naomi and Chuck had told him was a lie.

“It’s alright, Dean.” Cas said gently, glancing at him for the first time since the conversation started. “When Jack restored me to my full power I asked to keep the cracks I bear. Not as an punishment.” he added, somehow interpreting the frown flashing across Dean’s face. “but as proof that angels can exist with their flaws and still do good things. That they can still protect humanity, as was their reason for existence.”

Well, when he put it that way, Dean really couldn’t protest. It was very Cas-like of him to not give a single fuck about being perfect and defying everything anyone has ever known by doing it his way.

“But I am sorry.”

That made Dean snap his head up sharply, looking at Cas in surprise.

“For what?” He asked incredulously.

“For forcing you to see me like this.” Cas’ wings spread out momentarily before being tucked tightly against his back again, hiding their magnificence from Dean. He hated that. He hated that Cas thought Dean wouldn’t want to see him like this, one step closer to his true form, to the real Castiel. “I understand it was undoubtedly shocking and unsettling, but if I could hide these parts of myself from those glasses, I would for your sake.”

“No.” Dean snapped vehemently, jumping to his feet and jabbing a finger at Cas. He hated that Cas believed the things he was saying. How could he not be awestruck by him, by his beautiful wings and perfectly flawed halo? “Shut the fuck up, Cas.”

Cas’ face fell even further than before, the corners of his mouth ticking down and his eyes falling downcast. He looked so…rejected. It cut right through Dean’s heart again, and he scrambled to fix it before they fell victim to miscommunication again.

“Cas.” Dean said firmly, ducking down to catch his gaze. Like a moth to light, that piercing blue gaze fixed on green and followed them up. “I ain’t unsettled. Shocked, but in a really good way.”

Cas looked frowned, confused. Dean plowed on.

“Dude, don’t be ashamed of who you are. Your wings and halo…they look awesome, man. Seriously. You look badass.”

Cas’ lips parted in shock. Dean nervously fidgeted with a pen he had forgotten was in his hands, tapping it against his palm as he struggled to find the right words.

“You ain’t broken or flawed—you’re just Cas. My—“

Best friend didn’t cut it anymore. They had gone through too much together to be best friends. Brothers didn’t sit right either. Dean didn’t feel the same things for Cas as he did Sam (it made him shudder in disgust just thinking about his little brother like that). Dean knew what it was like to lose Cas and Sam—Sam, he had lost his family, his blood. Cas, Dean had lost a part of his soul.

“—you’re my—“

Dean wanted—needed—to say the words. But nothing fit, nothing felt right. No word could describe just what Cas was to him.

“—you’re my angel, Cas. And I wouldn’t want you any other way.”

Cas just stared at him with another one of those soul searching gazes. Even when he was human, Dean felt he could still see straight through him, searching for deception or lies and every time never finding one.

There was a small, awed smile on Cas’ face, and before Dean could register what was happening, Cas gently cupped the back of his neck and pulled Dean down. Soft, chapped lips pressed briefly against his forehead, warm and sweet and grateful. They were gone a moment later, and so was Cas’ hand.

“Thank you, Dean.” He said softly after a while. “I appreciate it.”

Dean blinked and nodded stiffly. His entire body was shaking, aching to feel that warmth again. “Don’t…yeah, don’t mention it, Cas. I just…you gotta know the truth.”

Cas’ wings were fluffed up a bit, and they twitched against his back like they were itching to spread out. His halo was glowing much brighter than before, matching his smile.

“I have always been honored to be by your side, Dean, but it is nice to hear that you consider me yours.”

There was a lump in his throat that muted his voice. He nodded, shivering when he felt the cool, electrified tingling brush of a feather run down his arm and the warmth of light as Cas’ halo grew brighter.

“Always have. Cas.” He murmured, staring down at the pen clutched between his trembling fingers. He could feel Cas’ smile grow, and the primary feather of his wings brushed against his arm with a little more intent.

“As have I.” His response was so quiet that Dean almost didn’t hear it. But a shiver ran down his spine nonetheless. There was something different in the air, now that there were these confessions in the open. It wasn’t quite like a straightforward declaration that Dean was Cas’ and Cas was Dean’s, but it was pretty damn close. It was just a soft, gentle confirmation of how they had felt about each other since Cas pulled Dean from Hell all those years ago.

The quiet, peaceful moment between them was effectively shattered when they both heard the motel door open and Sam come barging through. They both jumped apart. They might have confessed…something between them…but that didn’t mean they were at all comfortable letting Sam see them in such an intimate moment.

“Uhhh…” Sam came to an abrupt halt as he took in Dean and Cas all but throwing themselves in opposite directions. “did I…?”

“No.” both Dean and Cas said quickly. They faltered and fell silent. Sam glanced between them hesitantly, like they were a bomb about to go off. Dean peeked over at Cas, noticing how his wings were fluffed up almost twice their size, his cheeks burning when he noticed Dean had noticed.

“Riiiight.” Sam said. “Well…there’s uh…been another body. I was gonna grab you and go…?”

“Yeah.” Dean said immediately, straightening up. “Let’s go.”

Cas looked like he wanted to protest—or force Sam to leave so they could deal with twelve years of tension—but Dean pointedly sent a prayer his way.

Tonight. Promise.

Cas’ wings fluffed up even more, his halo’s light shone so brightly it poked Dean’s eyes, and his face was redder than a tomato.

Dean grinned before grabbing his keys.

“See ya at the crime scene, angel.” He said before ducking out of the motel room.

“Is Cas okay?” Sam asked when they were in Baby.

“Oh yeah.” Dean grinned smugly, already looking forward to tonight. “He’s definitely okay.”

He’s got a chipped halo and beautiful wings that had once been burned to bone.

He’s Dean’s angel. He’s perfect.

[texastheband]

Texas V Wu-Tang Clan

Interview by Steven Daly Photography by Peter Robathan Taken from The Face - December 1997

It’s the pop story of ’97, the most unlikely end to a weird year: TEXAS collaborating with the WU-TANG CLAN. First, a Scottish rock band on the verge of slip-sliding away into a tasteful obscurity was reborn via a slew of hit singles and a glut of stylish imagery. Now, in New York, their Brit-cool meets hip hop in a mutually beneficial deal. For everyone concerned, it’s all they need to get on…

Sharleen Spiteri took the call in her front hall. "Yo, Peach," growled a strange voice over transatlantic wires. The gentleman caller was none other than Ol’ Dirty Bastard, court jester of New York hip hop dynasty the Wu-Tang Clan. Apparently Mr Bastard fancied working with Spiteri and her band, Texas. It all started in August, with one of Texas’ managers discussing Land Rovers with someone called Power in New York, who turned out to be the manager of the Clan. A video of Texas’ "Say What You Want" was dispatched, and prodigiously gifted Wu-Tang chieftain RZA signed on to do a re-recording of the single for a prospective single project. Original rapper OI’ Dirty Bastard was replaced by Method Man, the next Clan member with a solo album scheduled.

The hook-up with the Wu-Tang Clan is the perfect climax to a year that’s seen Texas rise from a tumbleweed-strewn grave to grab the pole position in British Pop. A year in which Glasgow’s Sharleen Spiteri has stared out, defiantly remade and remodelled, from every magazine cover and TV show. From a media point-of-view, Texas’ – Spiteri’s – reconfiguring of music and fashion has been the year’s dream ticket. Ever since Bryan Ferry took the innovative step of getting Anthony Proce in to design Roxy Music’s wardrobe in the early seventies, successive phases of pop’s history have thrown up performers who use the fashion photographers, stylists and designers du jour to present The Package. It is these performers who most often capture the youthful mood of their time: that’s why you can see the vulgar glamour of the Seventies in the cut of Ferry’s sleazy lounge-lizard jib; the naive aspiration of the early Eighties in the box-suited and pixie-booted "style" of Spandau Ballet; and the onset of the late-Eighties mixing and matching of different cultures in Neneh Cherry’s Buffalo Stance. When we look back at 1997 we will see in Texas’ sound and vision a new mix, all to do with living the high life but keeping it real. Catwalk and street, the designer and the understated, Prada and Nike; the slick and the cred. Ten years’ gone Scottish guitar outfit and this season’s bright young labels (in both senses). The setting too, has helped. Fashion, again, is big cultural business. Clever pop stars (Goldie! Liam!) want to be seen by the runway and hanging out at fashion parties; young designers yearn to be visible on the stage or the podium (viz. Antonio Berardi’s autumn London show at Brixton Academy). Factor in a paucity of self-motivating, button-pressing, songwriting, photogenic women in British music, and you have a ready-made media phenomenon.

Sharleen Spiteri is holding court at a New York restaurant with a gang of Calvin Klein employees who’ve just accompanied her to the VH-1 Fashion Awards. The annual ceremony is a mutually convenient arrangement, a TV cluster-fuck where the music and fashion industries exchange credibility and cachet. Texas are contemplating just such an exchange themselves, having recently been given the OK by CK. (Tommy Hilfiger has also made overtures.) Spiteri is to have an audience with Klein himself; she’s already been bribed with a trunkful of CK merch, including the streaked black dress – "inspired by [the artist] Brice Marden" – she’s wearing tonight.

Someone suggests that Texas would be perfect for Fashionably Loud, an MTV special where models strut on stage as the hot bands of the moment rock out. "Forget it," quips Spiteri. "there’s only room for one star up where we play." If Spiteri were to join Kate Moss and Christy Turlington on the Calvin Klein payroll it would not, as she sees it, detract from Texas’ music. "Fashion and music have always been connected, and now more than ever," says the singer. "You couldn’t have one without the other. If there’s shit music at a runway show it just doesn’t work."

Meanwhile, there’s the songs. With "White On Blonde", Texas’ fourth album, the music takes care of itself. Radio-friendly unit-shifters abound, helped on their way by producers Mike hedges (manic Street Preachers) and Manchester’s Grand Central. The singles have been, in sequence, nu-soul fresh ("Say What You Want"), springy pop ("Halo"), Motown-sunny ("Black Eyed Boy") and winter warming ("Put Your Arms Around Me"). The B-side remixers have covered all bases in these dance-savvy late Nineties, ranging from of-the-moment talents like the Ballistic Brothers and Trailerman to old stand-bys like Andy Weatherall and 808 State. Texas, patently, lost their dancefloor cherry by cherry-picking the brightest and the best.

Of course, while the singles have all enjoyed heavy airplay and gone top ten, and while "White on Blonde" has sold two million copies (more than its two predecessors put together), the remixes haven’t necessarily helped those sales. As the go-faster stripes of credibility on the solid saloon car, though, they’ve still been essential to The Package; all part of the thoroughly modern mix.

So now, the Wu-Tang Clan. To many, though, this latest development could smack of opportunism. One group are renegade roughnecks who mythologise themselves in epic hip hop anthems; the others are fastidiously tasteful Scots with an eye for perfectly modern consensus-pop. The Wu-Tang Clan are certainly among the aesthetically correct names that Texas always drop in interviews, but can there possibly be a legitimate connection between the two? "A lot of the Wu-Tang backing tracks have the feel of soundtracks, and we’ve always gone for a cinematic sound," says Johnny McElhone, Spiteri’s genial songwriting partner and bass player. "And I’ve always liked Al Green, and they use a lot of Willie Mitchell, Al Green, that whole Hi Records sound, and make it modern. And Marvin Gaye: Method Man, in that duet with Mary J. Blige, used ‘You’re All I Need To Get By."

Having dominated the charts in Europe this year, Texas are now, logically, turning their attention to America: the country that has always inspired them, whether it’s the dusty, pseudo-roots sound of their first three albums, or the iconic-soul and post-soul sounds of Memphis and Staten Island that they give props to now; the place where success has always eluded them. Yet given the commercial momentum of "White on Blonde", their approach to the Wu-Tang Clan is surely not driven by desperation. They are, then, viewing the collaboration with a combination of fan-like wonder and disbelief.

"Method Man is just a wicked, wicked rapper," enthuses Spiteri. "I can’t wait to hear the combination of my vocals and his – I‘m really excited about it. I have a kind of sweet, virginal thing going on, and he’s got this dirty sex vibe. It could be the perfect marriage."

It’s a Saturday night in Manhattan, and ten storeys above Times Square, Sharleen Spiteri sits on the floor of a recording studio, tinkering with her latest high-tech gadget, a Philips computer about the size of a TV remote. Across the street, three ten-foot high electronic ticker-tapes provide testimony to Monday’s stockmarket crash. No matter how much Spiteri plays with her new toy, there’s still that nagging worry: what if the Wu-Tang Clan won’t show? They’re supposed to be on a tour bus returning from a gig in Washington, DC today, but these, after all, are the original masters of disaster. The crew whose normal modus operandi seems to be chaos. The band that recently quit a national tour because only five of the nine members could be relied upon to turn up.

The studio has been booked since six, so Spiteri and McElhone breathe signs of relief when RZA and his posse finally roll in around ten. Among the dozen-strong throng, they’re surprised to see Wu-Tang member Reakwon, a stout fellow with a Mercedes cap and a Fort Knox of gold dental work. Several cigars are hollowed out, their contents replaced with weed; bottles of Cristal champagne and Hennessy are passed around as the air grows thick with smoke.

Half an hour later, method Man makes his entrance. Stooped over, he looks deceptively short – maybe only six-four in his Hilfiger fleece hoodie. "I’m John-John," he tells Sharleen, referring to his alias, Johnny Blaze. Pulling out the big blunt from behind his ear, Method Man considers the job at hand. "She got a nice voice," drawls the laconic giant. "This band not exactly my type of listening material, but they going in the right direction, if you ask me, by fucking with us. I’m waiting for RZA to put down a beat, hear how the vocals sound melded with the track before I come with ideas. I’m one of those guys."

As his friends get on with the serious business of partying, RZA goes to work, feeding a succession of sample-laden discs into a sampler. He has a diffident, genius-at-work charisma about him as he sits with his back to the room, keyboard at side. With a flick of his prodigiously ringed hand he reaches out and conjures up a brutal bassline. The speakers pulse violently. RZA takes a sip of Hennessy. "Record this, right here!" he tells the bewildered-looking engineer.

RZA has decided to dispense with the original master tapes, shipped over from Britain. He wants a completely new version, recorded rough-and-ready without the standard safety net of a time-code. This convention-trashing, wildstyle approach to recording elicits some consternation from the studio’s engineer, a central-casting white guy who warns RZA: "You won’t be able to synch to this, you know." RZA waves him away and turns to Johnny McElhone. "This riff is in E," McElhone tells RZA. "Maybe we should try it in the original key, D." "What are you saying? I understand no keys," says RZA. "You want me to sing the whole song straight through?" asks Spiteri, trying to divine RZA’s intentions. He orders the lights turned down, and offers Sharleen some herbal inspiration. She politely declines and walks to the vocal booth. "What’s her name? Sheree?" asks RZA as Spiteri warms up. The engineer wants to know if he should maybe start recording. "Always record everything!" exclaims RZA. "Ready, get set, go! Play and record, play and record!" Spiteri rattles of a perfect new version of ‘Say What You Want’, grooving along by herself and passionately acting out every word, even the ones borrowed from Marvin Gaye’s ‘Sexual Healing". Now it’s time for Method Man, who at this point is so herbally inspired that he can hardly open his eyes. He jumps up and lopes around the main room, running off his newly written rhymes and clutching a bottle of Crystal. Method walks up to the mic and opens his mouth, and that treacly baritone sets a typically morbid scene: "Fifteen men on a dead man’s chest…" The Texas duo just look at each other, shaking their heads in awe.

The hours and the rhymes pass. Around 6am, things are starting to get a little weird. As Method Man snoozes on the sofa, RZA bounces off the walls, dancing like a dervish. "These are the new rhythms," he yells. "These are the new dances from Africa. I learned them when I was there last week!" McElhone and Spiteri crack up. The engineer probably wishes he were in Africa right now; he further draws RZA’s ire by making a mistake as he runs off some rough cassettes. As everyone says goodbye, RZA decides that he’s taking the studio’s sampler – he already has two of the $3,500 items, but at this point it’s all about the wind-up. The engineer, though, having last seen the end of his tether a good few hours ago, has had enough. By the commencement of office hours that morning, the rest of the session will have been cancelled and the band and Clan banned from this studio.

After a few frantic phone calls later that morning, a studio is found that is prepared to let the Wu-Tang Clan through the door. With one precondition: only two of them are allowed in the studio. Now it’s midnight, and four-fifths of Texas watch a trio of RZA-hired session men go through their paces. They shift effortlessly through a handful of soul and funk styles, and the Scots mutter approval. These are the kind of players that are so good they can get away with wearing questionable knitwear.

Soon, another couple of Wus pop in. Then another couple. In the control room RZA orders up a bottle of Hennessy and talks about hearing "Say What You Want" for the first time. "I didn’t fully understand the sound of it," admits the soft-spoken maestro. "It was obviously a popular song, a radio song, and my sound is the total opposite. But I thought that the artist had something, so I thought: "Let’s take her and rock her to my beat."

"Sweet soul, that’s what her stuff sounded like to me. Smooth. It reminded me of the Seventies: in those days, they did songs that would fit anywhere. If you went to a club getting high it would fit; if you was cleaning up your house it would fit. That’s when you’ve got a real great song right there." Whether or not "Say What You Want" is a great song, it’s not quite coming together tonight. Despite the best offers of the studio management, a full complement of Wu posse members ended up in the house. As the night drags on the trio of musicians don’t get with the track, and by eight the following morning there is little in the way of usable material. But everyone stays upbeat. Texas will work on the track in Glasgow, and send it back to RZA to finish, along with a new song based around one of his samples. After vowing to stay in touch, everyone stumbles out into the Manhattan morning light together, the Scots with an American name, and the Clan without a tartan.

From a distance the collaboration will continue. But it’s only a different kind of distance. Culturally, creatively, the gap between the Wu-Tang Clan and the old twang clan is considerable. Yet so it goes, this cross-cultural exchange programme. Whether it’s The Stones copping blues movies, Bowie digging the Philadelphia Sound, Lisa Stansfield getting soulful with Barry White, Sting getting doleful with Puff Daddy… Whether it’s Todd Terry reviving Everything But The Girl or Armand Van Helden making Sneaker Pimps the unwitting jumpstarters of speed garage, naked opportunism and risk-taking innovation have always been confused. Now, with genres blurred and tricknology proceeding apace, anything is possible and everything is permitted. Perhaps it is this, the sheer unlikeliness, that makes the Texas-Wu experiment the most illuminating collaboration of the year. Whether it works or not.

"If you play her stuff in a club, everybody be dancing, but it’s a clear room and you can see everybody’s face," RZA reflects on the departing Sharleen Spiteri. "But if you play mine, the room is smoky." And perhaps it is here, among the clouds and the clarity, between the smoke and the mirrors, where a new sound and vision lies.

Text originally posted on texasindemand.com

[moonchildsaurora]

The Hercules of a Weapons Master/Mechanic

»»—— Crew Member #8 of Space Pirates ATEEZ ——««

all aboard The Perihelion, welcome to the co-pilot’s log system! here you’ll be able to access the crew’s profiles should you wish to read about their journeys: (no nsfw content)

[CAPTAIN] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8]

“so you want me…to break them? As in literally or figuratively?”  

is the baby of the crew but actually the eldest in his own family

epitome of ‘don’t judge a book by its cover’. With a well-grounded and balanced mindset along with a great sense of independence and self-discipline

is a native Draerair born and raised on Corebos, a relatively peaceful planet where several clans co-exist across the different regions specialising in agricultural and metal work

[database file: Draerairs are shape-shifters by ancestral blood, however not every individual are born with the ability to shift into their bestial forms (though they retain some of their inhumane strength and traits). Each clan’s lineage has a specific beast they’re associated with. Individuals with the ability to shift can do so at will, be it partially or fully]

Jongho and his family are descendants of the Silverclaw clan, their associated beast is that of a bear. He’s the only one currently in his family that was born with the shifters ability, his grandmother was the previous individual with the ability

in his human form his hair is dark like the coals in his father’s workshop, honey tanned skin from hours of work under the sun and a gentle shade of hazel for eyes        

when partially shifted he gains a good 2 and half feet in height as bones and muscle mass expands, nails are elongated into claws, canines sharpened and eyes become more of an amber gold colour. Faint markings appear around his eyes as well as down his arms. Fur of black-brown shade emerge the closer he shifts into his beastial form

his strength is renowned throughout his clan, at the tender age of 5 he shocked the souls out of his parents after they found that he’s managed to bend the metal bars of his youngling playpen simply to get out so he could go on a mini adventure to find an afternoon snack

“oh sweet Zeus, we’ve lost the baby!”

they found out very quickly that he particularly liked snacking on fruits especially apples and sometimes would have to hide extras from him, otherwise they’d have none left

Jongho had always looked up to his father and his speciality with weapons forging. During his youngling years he’d be allowed to sit at a safe distance and observe, wide eyes with wonder when he looked at his father welding ambthanite metal together or carving a blade from crystalline emeyl

it was no surprise that Jongho followed in his footsteps and begun his apprenticeship by his 12th summer, his immense strength was a sure advantage when it came to being efficient and how easily some techniques were mastered 

“who needs a machine when you can just bend it with your bare hands?”

his younger siblings adored watching their older brother (it felt like déjà vu) build anything as small as a hunter’s dagger to fixing up parts of visiting ships. It’s also an extra treat for them whenever Jongho would crush fruity snacks single-handedly, because he loves hearing their joyous laughter and applause

The Perihelion had actually made a supply stop within the region that Jongho resided in to trade for food and energy cells. Under the recommendation from some of the market farmers, the crew were led to the Chois’ smithing workshop to fix up minor damages on the ship’s hull and to assess if any defence upgrades were available to be installed on such short notice  

“…I can’t tell if that’s Hercules or a beast hammering away in there”

the expressions on half the crew’s faces were priceless once they met Jongho, right after they saw him heave a 7 tonne slab of frerhil iron [database file: a common metal for heavy duty spears used by barbarians & warmasters] on to the bench without batting an eyelid

“you sure are one strong baby!”

“MINGI SHUT YO-“

“oh don’t worry, I get that. A lot”

and if it wasn’t for the overly toothy smile that Jongho sent their way that made the crew slightly nervous, it would’ve been the way his muscles flexed tauntingly as he gripped Mingi’s hand in a handshake during introductions Seonghwa nearly sweated out his worries just wearily watching that exchange

“I think what our lovely tech engineer meant was that you have a bab-ahh youthful face, yeah, youthful appearance! Not that you’re a baby at age”

“of course, I just passed my 15th summer not too long ago actually. So what can I do for you lot today?”

Hongjoong didn’t even try to hide how impressed he already was, he hadn’t come across too many shifters before and knew very little of their nature and abilities so this was great insight for him. He couldn’t care less with Wooyoung snickering in the background when his chest puffed out proudly after Jongho complimented his ship

Jongho was genuinely amazed that The Perihelion had managed to hold out until now (after hearing brief stories as to how the damages were acquired), without even having a ship’s mechanic for regular maintenance. His awe elevated when Hongjoong told him that he, a self-taught, was the one who worked and spruced the ship up from its near-scrap stage

Jongho’s father made similar comments when he came round to check up on his son and the workshop, even helping a bit with fitting in newer protective panels around the engines and windows. It wasn’t anything fancy, but Jongho did promise should the crew make another stop by in the future he’d have some better upgrades for them

it wouldn’t be till nearly 4 years later where their paths would cross once again in the city of Acreon. Jongho having made the decision to leave his home planet to start living life a little more, though he’d still pick up smithing-mechanic work along the way of his travels. Probably not the most ideal way to reunite with the crew, especially amidst a bar brawl of all things    

having not fought in his entire life (unless you count sand wrestling during his youngling days), Jongho was running entirely on pure adrenaline when he recognised Hongjoong and swiftly grabbed him out of the way – seconds before a stool came smashing down

“what th-OH hey! It’s you!”

the crew witnessed Jongho partially shift that time, almost bowling the entire crowd over with his solid mass to get Wooyoung and San out of the fray. Throwing them over his shoulders and bolting with the rest out the back door of the bar (Wooyoung’s shrieking could be heard down the street)

“thank you for that, really, we owe you one”

“do your evenings out usually end up like this? Never would’ve pinned you lot as the type to throw punches at a bar”

“listen here, that slimy loathsome spawn of a troll deserved it for inappropriate treatment of the dancer”

well at least Jongho couldn’t fault them for having good morals and standing up for it, though he wouldn’t be able to live it down come the following day when news spread throughout the city of ‘a beast from the nether realms’ being involved in the incident at The Illusion he dreaded getting an earful from his parents should his family ever catch wind of the news

Hongjoong invited him to tag along with the crew for the rest of their time in Acreon (highkey hoping this time Jongho would stick around more permanently), which allowed him time to evaluate the state of The Perihelion since it’s been a long while

Jongho officially became a member of the crew after he convinced Hongjoong to head over to Vostrilles, a place he knew had supplies of the latest ship weaponry and mechanical resources, and stuck by long enough to help with the upgrades that the crew pretty much adopted him into their wholesome chaotic family

he grew to thoroughly enjoy their company and now have the luxury of being doted on by his older sibling figures (he’d still deck anyone who dares call him a baby with the exception of mumma Seonghwa)

“watch your language! There are children on board”

the crew realised just how much they needed a proper weapon smith/mechanic on board after a few close-calls with a rival crews – Jongho’s newly installed point-defence canons had given the ship an advantage on its durability and defensive structure that it could withstand enemy attacks enough to make an escape

no one would openly admit that they cannot stay angry at Jongho for longer than 2 minutes, even when he was being in an argumentative mood

not to mention that everyone is extremely protective of their baby bro  

ends up being closest to Mingi, Wooyoung and Yeosang, the latter having a calming presence when he needs some downtime and he appreciates the other chaotic duo when they join in singing random duets with him (a habit he does whenever he’s in his workshop)

recently Jongho found some quality metal paint, he pitched the idea of giving The Perihelion a proper makeover – Hongjoong and others could customise the colour palette they’d like and finally give the ship the glo-up she deserves (no one noticed Yeosang’s little character doodles he so sneakily painted at random spots/corners of the ship hehet)              

(moodboard made with love, by @s1ardusk​ ♡)

[illlogicals]

☆ﾟ*・ﾟWOAH is that DENINA SLOAN ? i’ve heard they’re a CAMBION working here as a COMBAT 101 PROFESSOR. they came here because THEY HEARD A POSITION OPENED UP and they’ve been working here for 0 years. as a  265 / 34 year-old, i’m sure they’re skilled. someone told me they’re FICKLE & STOIC but i think they’re PRAGMATIC & CLEVER. i can’t help but think of AGED WINE, KNIVES IN A SATIN GARTER-BAND, A CRACK IN THE MARBLE when i look at them. ( olivia munn, cis-female, she/her )

alert the media. I have another trash intro posted. / PINTEREST 

+; there’s a small TLDR at the bottom bc I’m really just pulling this shit together out of thin air as we go. we love improvisation. and I know the intro isn’t too long I’m just lazy so I know ppl are too. 

                                            - also a general tw for death mentions -

*throw confetti* ok u may proceed. 

MEET DENINA

denina ( or dina, if you prefer ) is your sweet kiddo’s newest n’ nicest combat 101 professor. she snagged the job shortly after alexis left the game and she’s very impressed with herself about it since this is pretty much her retirement plan from her real job. 

you see, denina worked as something similar to a cross-roads demon cambion for yearssss for a very, very old vampire who notoriously went around naming himself as The Butcher. he was her boss and the way his business worked was that people, desperate ones both supernatural and mortal alike, would seek out deals to better their lives. to give them their desires whatever they may be. he’d review the offer and send one of his little henchmen out to go work the details with a contract of sorts. something to show that this was their deal and to seal with a debt that could be owed at any moment.  and while denina is obviously in no real position to send anyone to dark fiery places or collect their souls or whatever the hell it is they do in show supernatural bc this isn’t the lore we’re doing, there’s other ways her little work team handles these business transitions. denina made the deals her boss approved, denina went to go collect. and if they didn’t comply ... then let’s just say denina didn’t get the position of combat 101 just because she’s pretty and can wield a weapon better than G.I. Jane.

so she’s a murderer. a contract killer. big deal. you try coming into the paths of a psychotic vampire who’s very adamant in his business of considering him a king among humans and you try telling him you’d rather light yourself with hot ass hell-fire than work for him. see how far that gets ya.

okay so yeah, denina worked for The Butcher for years. years !! she’s very used to the business and while she’s not happy about it, the job did give her a lot of ... hands on experience. it also showed her that people were stupid no what generation shes in and they’d always do anything to gain wealth or find romance or be famous ( the 1940s/50s was a mess.. everyone wanted to make it to hollywood and no one ever wanted to pay up in the end. tragic how quickly budding celebrities just drop dead right before their big break ). she once had to, you know, kill a  guy because he wanted to own more land to impress a wealthier woman in his town and then when denina came to collect ( it was a simple request of someone else in the neighboring town who wanted to make a deal. they wanted to become mayor and there’s was voting. all denina needed was for the guy she was collecting a debt from now to go there and rig the whole thing so they could win. simple. ) the man refused !! rude !! told her that he had already got what he wanted and that if she wanted to fulfill the other’s deal that she should just do it herself. suddenly those became his famous last words. *finger guns* pow pow. did I mention she has very little patience for people ? they’re like so stupid.

ANYWAYS. she was doing this for a couple of years ( roughly over two-hundred. she’s v seasoned ). but now she’s here teaching combat to students who, from what she can tell, aren’t prepared for anything. “ no wonder so many people die here. ” - denina sloan 

TLDR ; denina used to work for a vampire who would give out promises of fulfilling desires to humans / other supernatural people in exchange for them owing him a debt somewhere down the line of their ( potentially short ) life. a very lucrative business. her boss would send her and other people who worked for him out to help finalize / fulfill these desires and then have collect when needed. if the person who signed the contact didn’t do what was being asked of them in the end then denina would kill them or bring them back to the base of whatever city they were in depending on how large of a debt the person owed ( the bigger the deal the tighter the contract ). but she’s fresh out the game to come and teach here. and by fresh out the game, I mean she dipped through the night once she found out that her boss and his band of burly bodyguards were brutally murdered. lit on fire and found with their body dismembered across the flat of a presidential suite in las vegas during this years mardi gras. she didn’t know what the hell was happening and she wasn’t complaining. she grabbed money that was in the safe her boss had hidden in the room, the keys to his bmw, and the gold pinky ring he wore ( along with several things off his guards ) and just left. now she’s in new york with the intentions of living the rest of days out as a normal cambion who got so fed up with her regular life she decided to become a teacher. 

PLOTS ( uh sort of ) 

so since denina’s old boss was in the business of giving out favors, I would love for denina to run into someone she used to have to come around like an annoying little fly so she could collect a debt from them. I’m just spit-balling ideas but I’m gunna say that her boss before he kicked the bucket used make deals with supernaturals to further his business. he probably used witches to cast spells for him, shifters to get information from faes, and vampires to get into his other dirty work business of processing his own brand of blood-bags. sooo if you’re interested in your character possible have been cornered by denina at some point in their life, hit me up on discord. I’ve got tons of ideas ranging from minor if you want things to taste vanilla to extreme if you want that real seasoned kick of adobo spice. 

she’ll need co-worker connections obvi. and while I’m down for platonic friendship plots, I’m also really interested in someone kind of giving her shit for being here? maybe someone who knows her and doesn’t really want her here. basically an enemies plot. give vic what she wants 2020

ok yeah that’s all I have for the moment bye

[beybladeimagines]

hey bby i was wondering what mythical creatures you think the blade breakers and blitzkrieg boys would be? thanks!

Mod Note: WOW OKAY I HAD TOO MUCH FUN WRITING THIS THANK YOU SO MUCH!!!

TYSON: Honey, I already envision Tyson being able to transform into a dragon, but also maintains some dragon-esque features. I see him with these beautiful piercing blue eyes that only seem to intensify in brightness as he treads the physical line between human-body and dragon form. Whenever he gets excited, they glow and he just emits this brilliant gust of energy around him. Depending on how close he is to transforming, I imagine the whites around his eyes turning black or a light grey. When he transforms, his dragon form is huge. I don’t picture him with wings, but rather he has a serpentine form that seems to mimic the current / winds. He doesn’t breathe fire, but he can emit a mighty hurricane from exhalation alone. He often chases storm clouds and loves flying through the rain. If anything, the chaos in the skies energizes him. He prefers to exist among humans, so he seldom transforms unless he misses being one with the winds again.

MAX: You already know what I’m gonna say. Max is the most majestic merman you’ve ever had the pleasure of laying your eyes on. He has piercing teal eyes, one’s that sailors can see through the densest of fogs. He’s super playful and has the amazing ability of befriending any aquatic animal within his vicinity. He’s even able to talk the most aggressive animals out of attacking someone and thus has saved quite a few folks in the water. Max typically admires humanity from afar, but although he fears getting caught, many are inherently drawn to him. I envision Max like a siren. His voice is captivating and can inspire just about anyone to dive into the water after him. It’s not even just his singing that people are enamored by, but also the mesmerizing and sickeningly sweet way he speaks. Max has an excellent way of disarming people and because of that, he’s managed to remain an enigma beneath the waters for so long.

RAY: Not exactly a mythical creature per say, but I do imagine Ray being a shape shifter. I can see him altering his form, specifically to that of a cat’s, just so he can better evaluate the company of those around him. If a person is able to treat him well in his animal form, then they’re worthy of some time with his human form. It’s not that Ray has trust issues, but he is rather picky when it comes to deciding who he wants to exert his energy on. He prefers not to get too close, because he has silently convinced himself that anyone (at the blink of an eye) could betray him or take advantage of his abilities. Additionally, he prefers his space and wants to roam the world without anything or anyone holding him back. He constantly changes faces just to avoid having people from his past find him again. The one consistent trait about Ray is his eye color. Regardless of what he transforms into, Ray’s creations retain that bright gold color, and that always ends up exposing him when he simply wants to hide.

KAI: A fallen angel. Kai, by no means, is a demon (nor a gremlin, despite what we all want to believe). Rather, Kai has lost his path many moons ago. Originally, he was called to be a benevolent agent and yet, he became consumed by sins like greed. He never wanted money or love; rather, he craved some form of recognition and he desired to simply be the best. He couldn’t stand the thought of being seen as an equal, so he allowed the feathers to fall from his wings as he descended onto earth. Every time he finds himself drifting further and further from the light, a feather of his falls off, thus making him unable to fly again. Humans cannot see the wings he drags behind him as he walks, but they have become such a massive weight and burden on his body. On Earth, he looks like any other human man, but he retains his supernatural abilities. He can make himself unseen, he can hear the thoughts of others, and he can see someone’s fate. He seldom shares this information with others, because he sees everyone around him as too weak and he’d rather use his abilities against an opponent he deems worthy.

TALA: Okay, so this might be cheating, but I see Tala as a shape-shifting fallen angel. LISTEN. The reason Tala descended was because of how quickly he clung to wrath. He was exposed to many betrayals that ended up stripping him of his initial holiness. His punishment was to wander the earth for eternity, never being able to find sanctuary or solace from heaven or hell. While many of his abilities lay dormant, he has expressed fondness for wolves. None have ever attacked him when he was on his own and some have even accepted him into their pack. Tala was inspired to take on the form of a mighty white wolf, one that hunters only seem to see during blizzards. He brings a wicked storm with him when he moves. The intensity of the elements ultimately reflects his internal calamities, which he shamelessly imposes on those around him. Hunters have never been able to capture him, many of them have stopped trying, but he’s still out there...roaming the harsh terrain just to get some kind of peace.

BRYAN: I want to say a goblin so bad, but this dude is a straight up incubus / demon. Bryan was molded out of sin, straight from the bowels of hell. He was made to be a great taker - someone that played on the desires of humans and used that desire against them. Keep in mind that incubi do not always rely on lust to acquire someone’s attention and soul. They have a tendency to offer many material and physical pleasures in order to have someone right where they want them. Bryan is the king of false promises and bad deals. He makes his offers sound so legit that it’s hard for anyone to turn him down. However, the moment someone agrees to indulge him is the moment they lose their soul. Bryan loves to take many things from humans - whether it’s a soul, their safety, their sanity, their ability to speak, etc. He loves seeing the pure trust and lust in someone’s eyes just vanish the longer he’s in their presence. He will sit on his victims chest and just watch the very life leave their pretty eyes.

SPENCER: He is absolutely a werewolf, one that has three different transformations. Specifically, I imagine him having a human form, a wolf form, and that in-between form where he’s able to stand and speak like a human but maintain the physical features of a wolf. Spencer became gifted with this curse by a mysterious (coughs) white wolf he came across in the Russian forests. Just when he thought he was going to be attacked and left for dead, the wolf simply bit him and allowed him to experience a surge of power that Spencer had never experienced before. Initially, Spencer experienced an unbearable agony across his entire body, as his bones practically broke and reformed every time he transformed. In time, he learned to master that power and has had to train himself to minimize the animalistic urges he sometimes has when it comes to needing to hunt. Spencer still lives among humans, but he has dedicated himself to seeking out that white wolf again. Sometimes he swears he can still see him, but when he blinks nothing is there.

[ohwaitimthewriter]

My Pack - Chapter 1

Summary : You had lost your pack two years ago. You were a wolf shapeshifter grieving for your sister and pack leader in a complete ignorance of what might had happened. One day, a familiar face came back into your life, offering you all the ins and outs of your grief.

Warnings : I don’t think there’s one here? Maybe a bite. 

Pairing : No idea if a pairing will occur, but maybe a Steve Rogers x reader

Words count : 1.9K+

A/n : It’s been a while but I’ve decided to post again my fanfiction. Like I’ve removed it some times ago, you might had already read this chapter. The reason why I’ve delated it from Tumblr is because I couldn’t find the inspiration to write the fifth chapter but here I am, with a bunch of new chapter coming your way! I hope you still had interest in this story and that you’ll enjoy it. Happy reading!

Masterlist. // My Pack Masterlist. // Next Chapter.

A pack is what a wolf needed to survive, both socially and mentally. That was my conclusion after losing the two beings that made up my pack. The only one of this kind in the world. And every morning, I spent an hour in front of the mirror where their picture was hung. My sister and her best friend. I could still feel even 2 years after their loss the bond breaking like crystal shattering on the floor.

I put my hand on the picture, letting my fingertips caress the paper and a tear ran down my cheek.

It was difficult to describe the concept of a pack, mainly because it was not an ordinary pack.

I was and am what is called a shape-shifter: I turn into a wolf. Many people confused us with the legendary werewolves who were, you see, only legends. The only difference that existed, and believe me it does everything, was that if the werewolf had two very different personalities, the shape-shifter had only one soul which travelled from one body to another.

I met my sister's gaze on the picture and my eyes changed into the wolf's eyes, the golden iris reminding me that my pack no longer existed, that I no longer belonged to anything.

I let out a sigh, staring at myself. The gold that surrounded my pupils faded as I became aware of the weight of the absence on my shoulders. How much longer would this go on? How long would this empty feeling stay stuck inside my body? The loss of my pack leader, Adan, and my sister, Mara, had branded my soul and had been tattooed on my bones.

I often wondered what could have happened if I had left with them? That day, a man with a patched eye came looking for them because the world was going to be in great danger and he wanted our help. I remembered this man perfectly, he was tall, with black skin, a long coat that matched the colour of his black eyepatch and he was armed. Oh he had not threatened us, no, his weapon had remained all along the conversation to his belt but my gaze, more sharper than the one of my fellows, had noticed it behind his coat. Adan had refused to let me take part in the conversation and at the same time had refused to let me go with them for the simple reason that the mission would be far too dangerous for me. Mara didn't think the same thing though, she knew that even if I was less physically strong than they were, I was just as capable of defending myself as they were, but Adan was adamant. And we don't disobey his leader's orders.

My hand fell down beside me and I finally turned away from my mirror when a loud thud made me turn my head abruptly towards my bedroom window.

I rushed towards it, opening it to pass my head and look where that blast came from.

The crowd ran to the opposite direction of the danger and between the panicked shouts and cries, my hearing drew my eyes towards the end of the street. I let my lupine senses invade me and that's when I saw this little girl in the middle of the wreckage, facing a creature completely green and of a vertiginous size compared to the child.

My eyes widened when I saw the green monster grab a car to crush it against the building behind the little one. I had no choice. I quickly glanced towards the ground, judging more or less the impact that was about to happen and I threw myself out the window.

My paws slammed violently against the tar and a shooting pain came up from my limbs to my spine but I didn't have time to linger on it, the little one was in danger and I couldn't let this monster kill her, nor could I linger over the astonished and frightened glances of the passers-by who had just seen a wolf of six feet and 9 inches landing from the third floor of a building.

I shook my head to quickly come back to my senses and crossed the hundred meters which separated us at full speed before leaping to catch the forearm of the green monster between my fangs to prevent him from knocking down his fist on the frightened little one.

I felt his skin crack under my teeth but it took a stronger pressure that would have broken a bus in two for my fangs to break through the thick skin of this beast that had just yelled in rage because of the pain I had just caused him.

My front paws clung as best they could to his arm as I began to shake my head to try to push my fangs further into his flesh but he would not give me the opportunity and even before I understood what was happening, my body crashed like a rag doll in a shop window.

"That was my favorite cake shop!" I grumbled inside my head and I got back on my feet to plan another assault.

Barely on my legs, the creature grabbed me by my back and threw me further into the building, destroying the wall at the back of the bakery as I crashed into it, and this time I could not hold back the yelp of pain. On the other hand, I must have made him angry since he was already preparing to crush me with his fists like a gorilla and I was trying to roll from one side to the other to avoid his punches which seemed very deadly to me.

He raised his fists again but this time a huge red flying armor dragged him out of the bakery.

"Stop playing with the stuffed toy, Bruce!" The flying armor declared before thrusting him to the opposite side.

"Stuffed toy"? Did I dream or did he just call me a stuffed toy? I growled at the nickname and stood up, watching the metal armor in front of me.

"Okay! Don't move stuffed toy, don't mess with other people's business!" He ordered me and I looked at him astonished by his condescending and authoritarian tone.

I looked over his shoulder and my eyes widened when I saw the green beast, known as Bruce, beating the ground brutally with his fists, screaming in anger before looking again at the armor which did not seem to care the least about the creature.

"There, that's good, I'll give you a treat when I get back, I promise!" He said and my wolf pride got hurt.

I looked at him almost indignantly and when the beast threw himself on the armor, I did not bat an eye.

The armor was getting more and more in trouble and obviously couldn't control the situation either by trying to reason with the so-called Bruce or by trying to knock him down. The beast threw the armor into the street and kept kicking him on the ground. Only then the metal man turned his head towards me.

"Uh, finally, if you could get into my business..." he said to me and I got out of the bakery. " Honestly, I'll have to ask Fury to find us a stuffed toy like you, you're obedient at lea..."

And before he could finish his sentence, I sat on what was left of the sidewalk, yawning. If he thought I was gonna help him after he insulted me by calling me a stuffed toy, he could have gone to hell.

"Seriously?" He declared.

"I don't mess with other people's business." I remarked sarcastically in my head, even though I knew he couldn't hear me.

"All right, Natasha?" He began by addressing someone else and I tried to look around me to find out who he might be addressing but in vain. "We need a lullaby here." He added.

I tilted my head to the side, not understanding what he was talking about, and it was only when a fighter plane, although it looked quite different, appeared in the sky that the neural connections were made. I stood up again to observe the plane curiously when it turned towards me and the mechanical sound of the firearm which was under the belly of the plane bristled my fur, alerting me of a danger.

Were they really gonna shoot me?

I plastered my ears on my head, flattening myself on my paws to be ready to jump.

Everything happened in a split second. I heard a "no, not the stuffed toy!" while the man inside the armor was still trying to control the living greenery and at the same time, the first shots resounded in the street as I jumped out of range of the shots.

My heart was beating way too fast as I pushed on my hind legs to run faster. I was glancing over my shoulder and a woman had just got off the plane before it started chasing me again, shooting at me.

A bullet flew between my ears which made me lower my head, the fear of being killed made my limbs shake with adrenaline and by jumping on the roof of a car to change direction, I lost my balance and went to bang against the wall of a building.

The panic rushed into my body when I heard the sound of the bullets coming closer and I stumbled on my own legs to try to get up but it only had the effect of scraping my head against the asphalt. I yelped in pain and when I turned my head vividly towards the plane it was on hold, aiming at me with its destructive weapon.

I took this short respite for a chance to run away and pushed on my paws until I warmed, stretched and burned my muscles because of the sudden effort.

I could only see the end of the street in front of me. The only idea I had in mind was to hide and blinders due to fear prevented me from seeing any option other than the straight line.

My lungs were burning from panting so jerky but I was unable to stop my escape.

Since I was unable to stop myself, it was a tank, at the end of the street which made me dig my heels in. The tar burned my paw pads and I stopped abruptly about ten metres from this tank that was blocking my way.

I stared at it, hearing the frantic beats of my heart in my eardrums, my legs shaking with exhaustion but still on my guard. But I wondered how they could still carry me, "I'll learn from that, do not go and save a child." I commented mentally, out of breath.

The cannon of the tank turned towards me and I flattened again, showing the fangs.

I didn't want to fight, I didn't like it, but if I had to, I would jump without hesitation with my maw open to save myself.

I growled in warning and it was then that the circular roof of the tank opened to let a man, the man I had met two years ago, out.

I remained dazed in front of him as he stepped down from the tank to move towards me. My ears had curiously risen towards him and I had dropped the aggressive mask but my limbs were stretched like tree trunks, their claws half stuck in the asphalt and I followed him with my eyes until he stopped a few metres from me.

"Y/n, it's been a long time, isn't it?" He said with a smile.

[tardis-sapphics]

mistletoemistletoemistletoemistletoE but in all seriousness............... what about christmas gift exchange (THEN mistletoe)

i did it!!! before christmas ends!!!! yes!!!! this was a fab prompt, thanks pal.

also here’s the translator i used for this fic, if you want a visualisation.

merry christmas, happy hanukkah, and happy holidays to you all! i hope your day has been filled with love and joy (and if not, i’m more than happy to shower you in it myself)!

What do you get for the woman who wants for nothing?

This is Graham’s problem, currently. By finding the Doctor, he lost Grace but gained a family – and he loves travelling with them, it’s great, it’s fun, but it means he has to buy more presents for people he doesn’t know as well. Grace was so much easier to buy for. Not to mention she would’ve known exactly what to buy, and where.

(And. Well. That’s a reflection for another time.)

The others are easy to find gifts for. Graham bought Ryan’s and Yaz’s presents back in November. (Or was it forward into November?) But the Doctor… Doc is proving the most difficult one. Again.

Seriously, what do you get a 2000 year old alien? Another time-travelling box?

Christ alive, humans are so much easier to buy for.

He confides in the two youngest of the team about his gift-giving woes. He doesn’t have to be secretive – the Doctor’s off “quarking a micropoint bi-axial rotor” that had “gone a bit wobbly”, whatever the bleeding hell that means. It’s just the three of them around the console, the TARDIS’ gentle thrumming to offer sympathies at their brain-wracking.

But neither of them are any good.

It’s alright for some. Yaz has got the Doctor a present, already. Of course she found something. More often than not those two are joined at the hip, and Graham’s long suspected that something between them needs to be addressed.

And Christmas is tomorrow. (Tomorrow being no more than a construct at this point. Graham can’t remember the last time he saw the Earth at night. Oh, blimey, that’s a lot to think about.)

“Even you, Yaz?” he sighs, after a third round of hypothesising fizzles away into nothing. “You’ve got her something. Surely you have ideas, still?!”

Yaz shakes her head. “Only ‘cause the Doctor asked me to get it for her. She doesn’t have money and she gets too distracted if she goes into Earth shops. I’m sorry, Graham, you’ll have to ask her.”

In all honesty, he’s starting to feel a little bit betrayed by his luck.

Doc chooses this time to wander into the console room, heavy duty welding glasses over her eyes and a nasty pair of pliers in her hands.

“Yaz! I think I left the electromagnetic wave shifter pump by you, can you pass it over?”

Sure enough, there’s some sort of mechanical invention close to the police officer, hanging by a hook on the console. Yaz is immediately on the case - she grabs it from its resting place and zips over to the Doctor as if she was magnetised to the Time Lord. The Doctor watches her the entire time, her mouth turned up just slightly in expectation.

“They’re so not subtle,” Ryan sighs, a playful smile on his face. The noise diverts his attention for a second, but Graham turns his head back again and finds his grandson isn’t wrong at all.

Yaz gently pulls the welding glasses up onto the Doc’s forehead, sharing a quiet conversation and a giggle. Something deeply joyful has blossomed on the blonde woman’s face, wondrous and overwhelming. Her smile grows exponentially when Yaz gives her a kiss on the cheek, placing the pump into the Doctor’s free hand.

It’s a perfect image of the two of them, Graham thinks. But then he stops himself. No, it’s almost perfect. ‘Course, it’s Christmas; it’s a moment that deserves falling snow and mistletoe! Nothing less for the two women that deserve it most.

And, ooh, hey, that’s a good idea. That’s a good one an’ all.

Doc moves to disappear not long after - but not before watching Yasmin hop back over to Graham and Ryan. She always watches them go, Graham’s noticed, like she’s thankful for every second she’s able to see her. God knows she’s loved and lost more than anyone here, hundreds of times over if not more.

She does it for Graham and Ryan, she’s always watching out for them, but there’s a wistful edge to her loving gaze when she looks at Yaz.

Seems the woman does want for something after all. Luckily, Graham’s got just the idea for her.

He catches sight of her fluttering coattails. “Hey, Doc, can we make a quick stop at a Tesco?”

Ryan looks like he’s just been struck like lightning. “Wait, wait, make that IKEA!”

Christmas isn’t feeling like it should.

He can’t help but feel out of sorts today. Like he’s been dropped into an alternate universe, but instead of that Solitary thing trying to tempt them to stay or whatever that… thing was called, he’s just been left without Grace.

He doesn’t know if that’s worse. He’s picturing it all, when everything was right, as he moves through Christmas morning. He should be in the kitchen, he thinks, with her, as they cook a turkey for the two of them. Their Christmas dinner is mournful and it’s too quiet without her cracking jokes. They’ve got Michael Bublé playing but he should be hearing her singing; he should be hearing her soul jumping out every time she opens her mouth to croon along.

She’s walking past in the corner of her eye but he’s expecting her to be sat down in the living room every time he enters and she’s not.

This is the worst he’s been in a while, he knows. Grief’s a monster he wishes he wasn’t personally acquainted with, and it really bites the most when you should be celebrating with family.

Christmas is lonely without her. Life is lonely without Grace.

Despite all that, despite the heaviness crushing his chest and the smile he can see never quite reaching Ryan’s eyes, he’s still glad he’s here. He’s glad he’s continuing with Christmas even if part of him just wants to go to bed and do away with the whole bleeding holiday.

Because Doc and Yaz have joined them for the afternoon, and it means the world to both of the men.

Neither of the girls are tiptoeing around the subject, but they’re not making it their priority either. They’re just existing alongside their friends; pulling crackers; asking questions and finding out about each other’s traditions. What do Ryan and Graham usually do at Christmas? What was the best Christmas present they ever got each other? What was Grace’s favourite thing to do? He answers best he can, trying his hardest to make light of it all.

And it works. Conversation quickly dissolves into Yaz and Ryan having a food fight with the Quality Street sweets so the Doctor, lying horizontally on the lounge chair with her legs dangling over the side, launches into telling Graham about the time she almost got Oliver Cromwell to reinstate Christmas during his rule. It’s about as close to ‘tradition’ as Doc gets - keeping in with the rest of the year. Adventuring and trying to help however she can.

But now it’s his turn to help the Doctor, this Christmas, and he’s a little anxious about it.

He and Ryan have already opened their presents to each other. The scarf Ryan got him is pretty decent quality, he’s surprised - and Ryan’s already buzzing about his Red Red Exemption 2 game. If that’s what it’s called. But with the Doctor and Yaz here, the gift exchange can continue. When Doc finally finishes her story, he beckons everyone together and collects the remaining gifts from under the tinsel-drowned tree.

“Ooh! The gifts! I forgot about the gifts!” the Doctor grins, jumping up in her seat giddily.

Graham just hopes his gift can live up to her excitement.

For sake of the presents’ safety, Yaz has been the one to transport her and the Doc’s presents in her bag; after she adds to the pile, they all dive in. There’s no organisation, no rhyme, no reason. It’s every person for themselves. Ryan and the Doctor tear into the carefully wrapped gifts with gleeful abandon. Graham and Yaz share a look and laugh.

Ryan sighs in relief when he unwraps the Apple Airpods Yaz got him - his broke the day earlier. Graham is touched, frankly, by Yaz’s frog doorstop, another bit of Grace he can keep for himself. Yaz is already leafing through the baking recipe book Graham got her, but her eyes keep flickering over to the Cards Against Humanity set she received from Ryan. Meanwhile, the Doctor is delighted by Ryan’s toothbrush holder (Yaz seems to have an uncomfortable memory springing to the surface; Graham thinks it best not to ask). She’s holding the ABBA Gold CD from Yaz close to her chest, too. Poor TARDIS, Graham thinks, forced to play that again and again.

She hands out her presents to the rest of the team herself. They’re all small, and, as they unwrap them at the same time, the same idea. A pendant - “lovingly crafted from Sheffield steel,” the Doctor grins - with a Gallifreyan word stamped in.

“What’ve I got?” Ryan wonders, his mouth full of a toffee fudge stick as he squints at the foreign circles. It’s made up of little circles and semi-circles, a satisfying little pattern.

“Trailblazer,” Doc answers, and her smile is an answer to Ryan’s proud little beam. “You’re amazing, Ryan! And we wouldn’t even be a fam without you.”

Graham’s Gallifreyan word is more simple, like a moon and a sunbeam on opposite sides of the circle. “And me?” He takes his turn.

“Reason.” It’s pointed - a reminder, Graham realises, of how he close he was to straying from his de facto role in that heart-stopping face-off on Ranskoor av Kolos. And in that way he’s even more grateful for it. “You’ve been the voice of it more times than I can count. Sometimes we need grounding.”

Yaz takes in every detail of the meticulously carved metal of her necklace. Hers is like a sun on its side, a great cone of light emanating across the middle.

“Let me guess, mine says ‘stubborn’,” she quips, and they all laugh.

“Ey, that should be Graham’s,” Ryan jokes, and Graham nudges his knee lightly.

The Doctor only speaks after the laughter has died down. “It says ‘rapture’,” she explains, and her eyes can’t leave Yaz’s. “It’s great how much you love every moment.”

Ryan sends a pointed look at his granddad, a single eyebrow not-so-unsubtly raised. Graham can’t suppress his chuckle.

There’s one present left to open, one terribly wrapped little present. As soon as the Doctor alights on it, the nervousness jumps back into his body and his chuckle subsides.

It’s the last present. That’s even worse. The wrapping is off in a second. The Doctor holds aloft a little green plant, tongue out as she peers at it. Then sniffs.

“Yep, definitely real mistletoe!” she exclaims. “Awesome. Thanks, Graham, I actually really wanted one of these!”

She’s smiling, and every word is genuine, but it’s moments like these when he’s reminded just how much more intelligent and older she is than all of them, by far. In a moment she’s taken stock of every thought that could have been going through his head to make him buy it. She’s sussed him out in a second, and he knows it.

But the contemplative look on her face tells him he pulled it off. Not to mention, Yaz’s staring at it, too, as if it wasn’t bleedin’ obvious why the Doctor would want mistletoe.

“You said you didn’t have these lying around in your TARDIS, you know,” he whittles on. She never said that. Improvisation was never his strong suit. He clears his throat. “It’s Christmas tradition, you see.”

“I really love it, Graham, thank you,” she smiles sweetly.

It’s later, much later, when it finally happens. Ryan has fallen asleep under the blanket to the sound of Call the Midwife playing on the TV. Graham’s too engrossed to fall asleep, full of Christmas pudding as he is, but there’s a birth happening and he’d rather not watch that, thanks.

And he’s thirsty. Yaz offered to fetch drinks a couple of minutes later, and the Doctor disappeared not long after. He’d go to investigate but he’s comfy and he doesn’t want to wake Ryan.

In the end, he doesn’t have to get up at all. Haloed by the kitchen light, the Doctor and Yaz stand underneath the mistletoe fixed to the door frame. There are two full glasses of water at Yaz’s feet, and another in Doc’s hand. But they’re forgotten now. The two women only have eyes for each other, and they share a quiet laugh before leaning in for the kiss they’ve both been wanting for a while now.

Merry Christmas, girls, Graham thinks. Took you long enough.

He leaves them to it and turns his head back to grandson. It’s a nice moment to just pause, to reflect on what he still has. He watches Ryan as his snores start to increase in volume, and smiles to himself.

He has a family, still. He doesn’t have Grace anymore, but he’s part of a family that love each other to bits.

It’ll do for him. It’ll do just fine.

[dead-golden]

Amber-chan can we get some swap and fell fluff romantic moments please?

Swap AU:

 The noise of the city was never a pleasent sounding area. All the cars buzzing around, the cowls of angry beings bickering day and night, rattles of those rummaging around.

 Sure, those in the city tend to be of favouring of it better than the plain silence in towns or countrysides. The thrill of the city noises does always tend to draw people here. And dangers of the world tend to make them stay.

 But, there are always time when the city can tend to be a bit too annoying to some. Golden was one of them. The shape shifter wanted nothing to do with the city, nothing at all. Course he knew his counterpart would absolutely love it here. The thrill of Mafia members and victims to fall for greed and give her deals. But the demon had other places to be. Other places of thrill for her to participate in. The only reason Golden was here was because the city was the safest for the creature he lives with. A place full of constant crowds and secrets. You tend not to think a subject of scientist would seek shelter there.

 Though brings worry of their lovers safety at rest, his temper is not. The place is always just so annoying. Someones arguing over this, that guy wants to get on that guy, that whores trying to steal from that whore. Everyone is always just so stupid here. A terrible place for a person like him. You can never read a good book here, someones always throwing stuff, and next thing you know you got shit in your tea and someones blood on your hands.

 You may wonder how all this happens in a city. Well, we never said it had to be a good city. Just a city. A shittier area makes it all the better to leave no trace.

 A knock was heard across the office. Small and delicate. A knock belonging to the one and only person he could stand in this place.

 “Entrez, mon amour.” was stated from the man at the desk who lazily read some files and papers sckewed across it.

 “Good morning Gold.” The door opened as the voice as sweet as as a mockinjay flooded ears of those inside the office.

 “Morning Fem. It’s already morning?” The shifter asked in blasephy as he looks at the clock besides him.

 The girl entered the office, closing the door and strutting over. She sighed and let out a small smile. “You stay up again hun? You know you shouldn’t.”

 He chuckled and rolled his eyes jokeingly. A small thing only the lady in front of him ever manages to get him to do.

 “Nag all you want mon amour, I gots to get this to the boss before he throws another fit on his staff again.”

 “We all know you can finish that in very less time than you are completing them.”

 “We all do, but I like seeing the boss make a fit.”

 They both smiled.

 Golden got up from his desk and with a stretch of his arms a groan was let out.

 “You know, I think I’ve been sitting at that desk for way too long. How about we just get away from here and be together for the rest of the day. My treat and your call.” He walked over at the one who he gladly calls his significant other and holds out a hand for her to hold. And with little thought or sight, she did.

 “Okay then, how about… the ice cream parlour! I heard they have a new flavour and I’d love to try it!”

 He responded with a chuckle, “You always love trying their new flavours mon amour.”

 “Well duh! They make such good ice cream! Who wouldn’t?”

 He simply hummed in delight as his eyes looked at her in fondness. Nothing would have ever made him give her up for the world, and everyone who has ever crossed path with them know that.

 They walked and they walked, chatting about good things and wonderful places his love wishes to visit one day when she’s truely safe. Talking about whatever pops in their mind, happy things, debatable things, even the stupid things. All different thoughts that made the other smile.

 They arrived at the ice cream parlour, the one place that started it all. And the moment they stepped inside, it was quiet. The city felt no more.

 No more buzzing of cars, argueing of city people, bickers of buisness men. Just peace. A place where the two can see nothing to worry about, and just see everything they love.

Fell AU:

 People say there was a doll. It sat on the walls of the mean witches cottage. They say the doll would kill anyone who dares step foot on the witches property. Anyone who would survive gets cursed and end up in a mental asylumn.

 I don’t ever know what people mean by that. I walk by the witches cottage everyday and there is no mean witch. There is a witch, but she’s never mean. She’s a really lovely woman compared to everyone else in the town. She can be scary if she wishes, but she is really nice to me and has saved me many times from the mean people of the town. Sometimes I come over to have tea with her.

 And as I walk by the cottage everyday I remember. There is no doll. But there is a man. He sits on the witches fence and stares into nothingness. Sometimes I wonder if he ever even blinks. I asked the witch about him before, she chuckled and tell me not to worry about him. I never got any good answered, so I just concluded that I’d be best I not ask anymore.

 Sometimes I wonder if he’s alive. Many say he’s not, that he’s just a witches creation, but if I ask her, she never declines the possibility, but never confirms it either.

 Sometimes I walk by and I see him looking at me the moment I turn the corner, he never moves from there and returns to his position when I’m not looking. I asked if anyone had seen that and everyone said I was crazy.

  Sometimes I visit him when I’m hurt. He doesn’t do anything, but not only is the cottage far away from every other neighbour, but it feels like someone is listening whenever I’m near him.

 Today was like any other. I woke up, got ready, walked to work, said hi to him on the way, finished work, and walked home. Though something felt off as I was walking home. I don’t know what it is but I felt followed. I looked behind myself constantly but I found no one. So I continued walking. Then next thing I know my wrists were grabbed and a creep pinned me to the wall in the closest alley way.

 “Hey pretty lady.” He cackled and I struggled to get him to let go.

 “I have no clue what the fuck you’re thinking but let me the fuck go before I knock your skull out of your God damned head!”

 “My my, pretty lady has a foul mouth doesn’t she? We’ll have to fix that.”

 Next thing I knew his mouth was on mine. I could feel the scabs and bruises he had forming on them and felt like every soul in my body was being voilated and turning to ash. I struggles as much as I could but his body wieght overpowered my motion. I tried screaming, threats, curses, something to get him off me. He never budged.

 But then he suddenly flew off me and I dropped to the ground. I saw a bat, little blood shed on it. The batter was either weak or underestimated the human skull. I kept my head down in case and saw dressed pants and shoes walk towards the bat before gentle, smooth hands wrapped in black picked it up.

 The unidentified figure walked up to me and I closed my eyes in panic, I hope they think I’m already dead. I don’t want to die just yet, not in these conditions.

 I felt my knee hit something metal, persumably the bat. I didn’t open my eyes, I couldn’t. If they find out I’m still alive then my death will be more than just a bonk on the head.

 “Wake up Fem.” Smooth and gentle words endered my ears.

  I open my eyes and glare at the being before me, attempting to look as intimidating as possible. Though the one I glared at made me faulter.

 The witches creation was looking down at me, eyes wide open in shock.

 “You’re aggresive, I’m sorry.” Another batch of words falling out of his mouth. My glared lowered as I look at him in my own sense of shock.

 “Why… how- you-?” I tried to stutter so many words out off my mouth before he abruptly turned towards the figure crumpled on the floor, lifting his bat with no emotion and ruthlessly slamming against the figures skull, crushing it in one blow.

 Blood splattered everywhere, from the floors to the wall, all the way to my outfit.

 He walked back to me, blood now soaking into every bit of him from his clothing to his sockets.

 “Your clothes are bloody. Mistress has some spare, do you want to change to that?”

 I look at him, my shock still not fading as he holds his hand out for me to grab. With a hesitant and stiff nod, I grabbed his hand and we started walking back to the witches cottage.

 He opened the door and the witch was humming along in her kitchen as she made tea. She looked back at us and her eyes widened in suprise.

 “Oh my cards what happened here?!”

 “Fem got attacked and I helped. Do you have spare clothes for her to borrow mistress?”

 She smiled warmley and motioned me to her bedroom. My shock faded on the walk and now my thoughts are just voicing curiosity and wonder as I watch the witch gathers clothing for me to borrow.

 “So deary, I hope what he did wasn’t too violent for you was it?” She looked at me with concern as I slid off my bloody clohing to exchange them for clean ones.

 I shook my head quietly. With things you see on the street what he did would have been considered mearly a bicker.

 “You have questions don’t you?” I look at her as I slip on a purple shirt. “Well, go on deary ask them.” She looked back with a patient smile as her hands helped emphasize that I could ask her anything.

 “So is he really alive?” A question I’ve always wondered.

 “Not like we are, but yes, he is alive.”

 I wondered more as I sat on her bedbesides her.

 “What do you mean ‘not like we are’ ma’am?”

 She chuckled, “He can move about and speak and all that, but he doesn’t know how to really live. You know, feel emotions, think for himself a majority of the time, things like that.”

 I nodded and thought.

 “Ma’am?” She looked at me and hummed, waiting for me to continue. “Do you think… maybe I could teach him how to live? If that’s fine with you that is!”

 Her warm smille grew. “I’d be delighted, you see… I think he grew a big liking to you.”

 Before I could question any further rushed footsteps lightly made their way towards us and the creation entered the door way, now clean of blood.

 “The tea is ready Mistress.”

 “Thank you so much Rehpic. We’ll be down in a second.” He nodded with a small smile and left our vision going only God knows where. “Would you mind having tea with me? I know you had a long day.”

 I shook my head as we made our way down the hall. “I don’t mind at all.”

 After tea time with the witch, I made my way outside the cottage to her front porch. I saw the creature I could now name Rehpic sitting at his regular place on the fence. I decided to hop up and join him there.

 “The evening is quite cool this time of year.”

 He glanced at me, “You know I don’t feel temperature, right?”

 I rolled my eyes, “Pshh, I totally knew that!”

 He giggled a small bit and I noticed a small smile on his porcelain face. “I see why Mistress likes you so much.”

 I look at him with curiosity. “Hm? She like me?? Do tell me why you think so!” I lean towards him in a joking manner, a dork like smile I felt resting on my face.

 He looks away, the small smile still resting, “You’re just, a likeable person. You make people smile.”

 “Even you??” I raised and lowered my eyebrows poking fun and trying my best not to laugh myself as he lets out a grand chuckle, squinting his glassy eyes and smiling brighter.

 “Yes, yes, even me.” He turned his head back at me a smile resting on his face as his used to be glossed eyes felt like they held calmness.

 I smiled lightly, glad my mission to have him start living started now. On the fence he stood so still at.

 I leaned my head on his shoulder and relaxed, letting my mind wonder.

 “Have you ever seen men fight over why the chicken crossed the road?”

 I looked up at him letting out a loud laugh. And next thing I know he was telling me many stories he has watched throughout the corner of the neighbourhood. And although I felt I should go home, I stayed beside Rehpic, listening and laughing to his stories as we sat on the fence of the cottage.

 People say there’s a doll. An emotionless doll who sat on the walls of the witches cottage. But I have to disagree. There is no lifeless doll, but a creature so full of potential energy that it’s anything but lifeless. A creature I fell in love with.

[peonypearls-muddled-musings]

Flowers - Dargon (birthday blurb)

"Where are you going?" He asked as he slowly walked behind the toddling child in front of him. Dargon inched forward, his hands clasped behind his back as he watched his daughter amble through the castle garden. She rounded her little fists as she stomped along and cooed to herself.

Dargon couldn’t help but smile as he followed. Dagney would often stop to look at her surroundings. Her stops were interluded with thoughtful nibbles at her little fingers with what few teeth had grown in by now. She perused her path options before she peered up at her father. Their identical amber eyes met before she squealed in delight, and her hammy little arms flapped before she scooted along on her way again, which granted another laugh from her father as he followed slowly behind. He wanted to ensure her safety, but give her enough space to explore. 

The past year had been full of new experiences for the whole family; for little Dagney, and especially for Dargon and Gwinletta as they ventured into parenthood. Neither of them had ever really let themselves explore the thought of one day being parents during their younger years as they merely fought to survive; but after they met each other, and through their subsequent marriage, they realized they could grow the family they'd never had, and they were excited to bring little ones into the nest. 

As Dagney grew, so did their questions of their own families. Gwinletta often missed her parents, who had sadly met their demise at the hands of pillagers when she was ten. She had never quite been able to cope with her grief, and she dearly pondered what their experiences could have been with little Dagney. Each time Dargon looked into Gwin’s eyes as she held Dagney whilst she talked about her mother, and as she reminisced about the little lullabies and special mantras from her younger days, it broke Dargon's heart. Through each lullaby Gwin wrote for Dagney, Dargon knew they came from a place in Gwin’s soul that still hurt to this day.

But there was a long-lodged thorn that pierced Dargon's heart from the bountiful rosebush that had bloomed along with his family. He looked at Dagney and wondered about his own mother. What would she say about her son now? The boy she'd named her home-tongue's term for 'garbage' had been given crown and queen and child; said child had come forth with help from his blasphemous abilities, and he'd never once regretted the worry and agony. But his situation had been much different from his mother's; at least that was what he’d gathered from the knit-together pieces of his memories from when he lived with her in Hell. Those memories often stirred shame and confusion. He'd entered the world as a being born to be hated and, if need be, slaughtered. His mother, a human, had been forced into Hell once it had been discovered she'd borne a Shifter mongrel. She had no business being there; and she made sure her son knew it. Dargon had all but raised himself; but as he looked at his daughter, who he quickly picked up before she could force her way through a patch of tulips, he couldn't help but wonder: what had their relationship been like when he was this small?

Dagney fussed and wriggled until Dargon released her to a different path He gave her a little pat to let her know he was behind her; and she zoomed on her way as she babbled to herself. She grumbled and gurgled in thought as she toed through the grass, which remained constantly green and fresh in the controlled atmosphere of the interior gardens. 

The thorn remained buried; questions about his mother he'd asked himself for so long had piled up over the year. As he carried and delivered Dagney, to the first time he held her, through his talks and songs to her, all while he looked into her eyes, wide and bright and innocent as she soaked up every ounce of emotion he and Gwin offered. 

The very thought Dagney being named something similar to him made his stomach churn. It was another thorn in his heart. His daughter, his new day; he could never liken her to the throwaway name he’d been given. 

But he had no idea about his father. About who he was, or his relationship with his mother. Dargon had no clue about how he came to be; and another thorn lodged itself as he wondered, not only about what his mother's fate had been after his escape from Hell, but also about the unknown circumstances of how Dargon had entered her life. 

He felt so many stinging sensations in his chest; all the way down his spine and gut, to his hands and feet. He closed his eyes, feeling them burn. The fine clothing he wore didn't matter. The expensive gold rings on his fingers were worthless. The castle felt so far away. 

For a moment, he was, once again, an unwanted Hellion.

Until a squeal broke him out of his stupor as Dagney toddled back his way as she roughly brandished a peony she'd torn from a nearby bush. She made her way back to Dargon, who sighed and felt the thorns slowly release his skewered heart.

Instead, the blooms burst forth as Dagney smiled at him; and he knelt down to greet her.

"Is this for me?" He asked as Dagney waved the flower around which caused a bend in the stem before she allowed her father to claim the poor bloom. "Thank you," Dargon smiled as she grinned at him, pleased with her gift. She reached up, and Dargon happily lifted her into his arms as she retrieved the peony.

"I think I know someone who would love this," Dargon said as he turned to leave the garden. Outside in the castle, the halls were painted gold with another autumn sunset, and Dagney's laughter could be heard through the castle as Dargon kept her entertained. They reached their apartment, and were greeted inside with the smell of one of Gwin's favorite candles. She sat in the living nook, dressed in her nightgown with a book in her hand and a still-steaming cup of tea on the table next to her. She looked up as her husband and daughter returned, and she beamed; she set her book aside and stood to greet them.

"My two favorite people," she announced just as Dagney waved the bent peony her way. Gwin appeared surprised, but the gleam in her face was genuine, and Dargon couldn't help but smile. "For me?" Gwin asked as she accepted the flower from her proud daughter. "Thank you, love!" 

Dargon met Dagney's gaze as she looked up at him, pleased with herself. He nuzzled her little mop of brown hair and kissed the side of her head before he let her down to roam the already Dagney-proofed apartment. Gwin smelled the peony as they both watched Dagney sit at one of her toys before peering up at her husband. 

Dargon could almost smell the springtime in her green eyes.

"That flower's almost as pretty as you are," he said, and his hand reached forward to claim hers; he kissed Gwin’s soft knuckles as she smiled back.

"The first line in the oldest book."

"A classic," he said softly as she pressed her body to his. "But don't take my word for it, I mean, I didn't learn how to read until I was, what, 20? Books still really aren't my thing." 

Gwin laughed, pressing her cheek to his chest as she embraced him. She felt his arms around her; his palms ran down her back, open and splayed as he read her the same way he did every day. She looked up, about to reach up and kiss him; but concern etched itself on her face as she could tell his own features were knitted a certain way.

"Dargon; are you okay?" She asked softly. Dargon blinked as he realized he still wore the heaviness of his thoughts from the garden.

"It's... nothing new," he said; which clued Gwinletta in on the cause of his distress. She reached up and let her hand trail his scarred face gently. Her fingers slowly slipped into the dunes of his platinum hair. He closed his eyes and leaned into her touch as he soaked it up like it was the last, crisp rays of sunshine before winter. "I thought I was done feeling this way."

Gwin's expression softened. "You have every right to wonder. Every right to be sad," she said as her other hand claimed one of his with the peony bloom interlocked in their hands. "You help me when I miss my family. I won't turn you away when you wonder about yours."

"I know you won't. But... These memories offer no happiness to us; no aid in raising Dagney, or being effective leaders."

Gwin squeezed his hand. "That doesn't mean you have to ignore them," she said. "I'm not going to tell you to stop mourning what you experienced. I'll never expect you to get over those years of your life. You've been dealt enough cruelty; I don't intend to add onto what you've witnessed." 

Dargon pressed his forehead to hers as he yearned for every bit of her warmth. Her calm countenance granted him much-needed serenity before they looked into each others' eyes once more.

"I love you," Gwin whispered. 

Dargon never took that phrase for granted. Three words bound together with her touch and gaze, like the binding of their wedding rings, in a union that offered him solace with her grace alone. He squeezed her hand back before he kissed into the palm that traced his face, which was decorated with scars. 

"I love you too," he offered back. 

With fresh water and a handsome vase, the peony found a home on the dining table, and soon Dargon and Gwinletta had readied Dagney for bed. Dargon slipped into his own night clothes and he went to join Gwin in Dagney's room. He leaned on the doorframe as he listened to Gwin soothe their daughter to sleep with one of her own penned lullabies. Dargon watched the two most important people in his life, entranced in a cocoon of warmth and tenderness. Gwin remained seated in the rocking chair for a short time after finishing her lullaby as she allowed for a moment of quiet to envelop the room before Dargon approached. Gwin let him take Dagney to place her into her crib, and both of them leaned over to stroke her hair or touch her little hands with a whisper of ‘goodnight’. 

Dargon closed the door gently behind them, and Gwin interlocked her hand with his. “You’ve come such a long way, Dargon,” Gwin whispered up at him as she offered a smile. Dargon felt the roses in his chest reach further out, budding and warming his heart as he gazed down at his wife. 

“I’ve had a lot of help,” he answered; and as they entered their bedchambers, Dargon didn't expect Gwin to run her hand up his arm in the firm fashion she did; the way he recognized as a silent cue that she wasn't interested in sleeping just yet. It was something he didn't have to overthink for once. Her eyes were solely on him as her hands ran up his arms and down his chest; and within moments the night outfit he'd just slipped on was discarded quickly by her as he helped her out of her gown. 

And each breathless utterance of his name that Gwinletta whispered into his eager mouth tasted like the roses that bloomed in his chest.

[lifeisafunnyplace]

First day of summer turned into second week of summer and before they knew it, July was around with warm nights and warmer days.

The forest offered shelter from the sun and when days were warm enough, they disobeyed Baekhyun’s mother and ran to the dark pond on the other side of the soggy swamp.

Chanyeol jumped in from time to time, Baekhyun always only watched. The usually so brave boy was afraid of water, had never been thought how to swim. It didn’t stop Chanyeol from splashing water on his friend, soaking his clothes until they were sticking to his body. Like that, he cooled down to and Chanyeol secretly loved watching his friend trying to avoid it.

When done swimming they lay in the grass waiting for the sun to dry them up, talked about nothing and everything. The smallest was the best at coming up with crazy stories to tell. It ran in the family, Chanyeol assumed.

Baekhyun’s grandmother always told the wildest stories, about white horses that ran away with young girls and jumped into a lake or a river, about the fiddler that thought you how to play the most wonderful music, but took your soul in return. There were stories about forest floors drizzled with stars and fairies painted with gold. All of them told with an enthusiasm leaving young boys spellbound in front of the fireplace on stormy winter nights.

Baekhyun’s speciality was clouds. In white, featherlike clouds, the big cotton candy ones and even in the threatening dark grey, he saw stories. Chanyeol only had to look in the direction his friend pointed and he could see the story occur on the blue sky. As the clouds changed form, the story did too, like a shape shifter in his grandmother’s stories. You knew what you saw, but only for a very short moment. A blink of the eye, and everything changed. It was fascinating.

It might still be July and autumn was far away, like an eternity. In September, they would have to start their education in Church, start preparing for their Christian confirmation next spring. It was a big happening in the village. After they were seen as young adults, parts of their freedom reduced, more work, more studies, less time to act carefree and run around barefoot. Even if eternity is a long time, they knew autumn would come eventually, and they knew that then, everything would change.

Parents didn’t wait around for him to turn 16 to make him help out. Both Chanyeol and his brother worked long days at the farm. Always stuff to do, like painting the fences. Today had not been the warmest of days, a bit cloudy, or as Mr. Park’s was wording it: ‘A perfect day for painting’.

Chanyeol had not bothered changing his clothes when a familiar blond boy shouted for him, told him to hurry up. He had simply let everything behind with a promise of covering up for Sehun the next time he was out meeting girls late at night, if Sehun cleaned up for both today.

He followed his friend, running through knee high grass, balancing on rocks and jumping over water streams. It felt like freedom, as time stood still and they could act as childish as they wanted. It was the contrast they both needed to balance out the serious talking sometimes going on in their tree or in the grass by the pond.

As Chanyeol stripped next to the refreshing water, clothes dropped in a big piele of smelling items, he noticed Baekhyun following his every move with a pleased smile and a teasing spark in his eyes.

“What?”

“Hm? Nothing!”

The smaller shook his head and quickly stretched his body with closed eyes.

“You stared at me while I undressed. Don’t you have a dick of your own? You have to watch mine?”

Chanyeol held his hands in front of his crotch, covered up some. He always skinny-dipped. This was the first time he felt naked in front of his friend though.

“It’s just... “

“What is it?” An unsure laughter followed Chanyeol’s question.

“You’ve grown a lot lately. That’s all. You sort of look like a man already”

Okay, that was a bit more than expected. Chanyeol’s ears turned red and hot and water felt like a way out of it. Blushing or not, he wasn’t going to give his friend the victory that easy.

“Well, at least I have a dick!”

He turned around and carefully stepped into the quiet water, creating tiny waves in the surface while he waited for a comeback.

“Are you asking me to show you my own dick? Is that it?”

Oh God! He was never winning against his friend’s quick tongue. Chanyeol felt tongue-tied. Instead of trying to come up with anything that wasn’t going to make this more awkward, he threw his long body backwards in the water and kicked his legs the best he could. In the grass sat a soaked blonde boy, still fully dressed. That much he deserved for such behaviour.

So far this summer they had done a lot of nothing. It had mostly been just the two of them. Of course, Sehun followed suit from time to time. The boys from the Kim’s farm too. Picnic with girls had yet to happen. Because when it was just the two of them, Baekhyun and Chanyeol, nothing else mattered. They had their own secret places, their own humour and stories, what else could you need?

Chanyeol was done swimming for today, had dried up enough to put back on his underwear and shirt. Clothes smelled of a long day of working in the sun, but he wasn’t going to run around naked in the forest. Lazily chewing on a straw, he focused on the clouds and the story Baekhyun tried to put together next to him. It was a bit too cloudy though and the story ended up as a barn filled with hay, no patterns, nothing to get a hold of, a mess, allowing Chanyeol’s thoughts to drift away.

“Baek! Did you hear Sehun kissed that Lisa-girl?”

“Yeah, I think he told everyone” Baekhyun chuckled. Sehun really had been running around bragging about it.

“He’s only 13!”

“Yes, and?”

“Well, he’s too young. She’s too young!”

“Come on! What’s the big deal? It’s not like he proposed to her”

Baekhyun was on his back in the grass, arms and legs spread out like a starfish, eyes focused on the sky above. Chanyeol had sat himself up, watched his too relaxed friend. Didn’t he get how it was affecting him, how he constantly had to cover up for his brother when he was out running at nights?

“You’re just jealous” The boy in the grass sat up too and stuck out his tongue to tease. “Idiot”

Chanyeol let his back hit the soft moss and grass. If he wanted to, he could get kisses too! Jealous of Sehun? Not happening!

With a slight pout on his face and closed eyes, he tried to force the darkness that followed jealousy away. He was not going to be jealous just because his stupid brother kissed someone before he had.

Suddenly Baekhyun leaned down and left a quick kiss on his mouth. It was over before it started. Nevertheless, enough to make Chanyeol jolt up from the ground.

“What was that?” His eyes big and confused.

“A kiss” Baekhyun sounded proud and happy.

“You kissed me? Why?”

“Then you had your first kiss too!” Baekhyun’s eyes were shining and if his tone was a bit cocky, his red cheeks told him he wasn’t all confident about it.

“It doesn’t count”

“Why?”

“You’re my friend, and a boy” the last part barely a whisper.

Chanyeol chewed nervously on a freshly plucked straw. He knew he was judging right now, but he also knew it was what mattered at school. Boys kissed girls, period. His friend was raised differently and Chanyeol knew. Like many things on the Byun farm, the stories were different too. The nøkk could lure away a pretty boy just as easily as he could want a girl. Humans fell in love with all kind of creatures. Love simply wasn’t restricted to man and woman.

“It’s still a kiss” His friend wasn’t done arguing. “My mother kisses me good night every day”

“Now you’re being stupid! A mother’s kiss on your forehead is its own category. I’m talking about romantic kisses. I thought better of you! Gender doesn’t matter when you kiss!”

Baekhyun watched him. Even with his eyes closed, he felt the others gaze.

“Sorry. I know that’s true, but you cannot call what you did a ‘romantic’ kiss. Your lips were barely touching” Chanyeol shook his head and chuckled lightly.

He should have seen it coming. He should have known his friend well enough.

“Then show me how it’s done Mr. I know how to kiss!”

Baekhyun leaned over him, pushed the taller into the grass with one hand resting on each side of his head. When Chanyeol opened his eyes, he saw straight into a pair of challenging blue ones.

“Show me! Have your first proper kiss”

The weight of the body on top of him made him stay where he was, actually taking some time to considering it.

“For science? And no one will know?”

Baekhyun rolled his eyes. “You’re the one who wanted your first kiss”

“No it wasn’t! You gave me a kiss without asking”

“I never took you for a wimpy kid”

Chanyeol snorted and turned his face to the side. He knew he was right. It had been Baekhyun that kissed him without warning.

“Oh come on! Waterlilies won’t tell. It’s no one but us out here.” Baekhyun’s words gave off just how much he enjoyed the teasing. He used his hands to turn Chanyeol sulky face and slightly shook his head in amusement.

As Baekhyun pushed his soft lips down on Chanyeol mouth, Chanyeol closed his eyes and gave up. Baekhyun always got it the way he wanted, besides, no one ever called him a wimp.

Baekhyun’s lips softly brushed his and when his friend head tilted a bit, Chanyeol copied. It felt warm and strange and sort of crazy. He couldn’t word it, had no explanation for why he parted his lips to let the other take control, his brain had turned to mush the very first second he felt a tongue slide over his lower lip.

It took a moment to register how the weight on him had lifted. Another to remember how to open his eyes.

Baekhyun was laying on his stomach in the grass next to him, a soft smile on his face but eyes a little worried.

“Hey, you okay?”

Chanyeol shook the rest of the fog away and pushed his upper body up from the ground.

“Yes, I was just... you know...” He used the strictest face he knew of, needed to show the other he meant it. “No one will ever get to know about this. Never!”

He quickly stood up and pulled on his paint stained jeans and sweater, waved his hand for Baekhyun to follow before he started marching away from the pond. “Come on, it’s late”

[seriouslyhooked]

Lost Souls and Reveries (Part 2)

18 part AU written for @cssns​. Part 1 Here. Story available on AO3 Here and FF Here. Banner created by the amazingly talented @shipsxahoy​!!

Killian Jones is a wolf shifter without roots, without plans, and without a pack. He’s a rogue, someone humans should avoid and shifters should be wary of given his lineage. But one night years back set him on a path he didn’t realize he was taking, a path leading to a future he is destined for. That future is tied up in one woman – a human named Emma Nolan. Together Emma and Killian will find not only answers, but a love that’s truly fated. But will love be enough to set them free, or will past demons win out in the end? (Answer: love always wins – I am writing this so despite some tiny pockets of angst it’s basically a fluff-filled insta-love fest). Rated M.

A/N: Hey all! So first, thanks to all of you who have shown this fic love and who are joining me on this new adventure. This chapter we will pick up from Emma’s POV and we’ll establish more of Emma’s story along with more of what the CS relationship might look like in this kind of AU. Fair warning that the heavier themes that we saw in Killian’s past have similarly sad shades in Emma’s. As with the last chapter though, I am trying to shy away from anything like graphic sadness. If you’re worried about it (and keep in mind all angst is in the flashback) feel free to message me. Also know that it’s all in the past and that this fic WILL be a certified fluff fest. Anyway hope you enjoy and thanks for reading!

How can something so dark be so beautiful? It was the first thing Emma thought when she looked at the man she knew had to be from out of town standing there on Main Street.

He was hardly dressed for the June weather or the Storybrooke style of living. Dark jeans, a dark shirt, and a black leather jacket gave him an edge that only accentuated the midnight color of his hair and the stubble of the beard he had along his handsome face. The clothes were well fitted and Emma couldn’t help but take him all in, noticing the hard lines of muscle that spoke to a physique she desperately wanted to get her hands on. The attraction that she felt was too fast, too potent, and then she caught the intensity of his blue gaze and Emma lost her breath. A purer color she had never seen, not even on the brightest of summer days in the ocean she’d grown up on. It was intriguing and perplexing, and in the light of this fading day Emma wondered if there were actually gold flecks among the blue or if she just imagined them. Either way his eyes were only one part of a perfectly potent package.

Holy crap! This guy was… lethal, deadly, and totally and without question consuming her. The few seconds they’d been looking at each other felt simultaneously all too fleeting and like a small eternity in themselves. Emma couldn’t tell if she wanted to bolt under the intensity of his stare or if she wanted to run towards him. It was the strangest sensation, but it was no stranger than the thought that rang out in her mind at first sight: Mine!

“Emma, honey, you doing alright?”

The question from her mother pulled Emma back to the reality of the morning she was actually living in, and it mirrored the moment last night when her mother appeared and broke the trance between Emma and the enigmatic new arrival to Storybrooke. This time though, Emma wasn’t spacing out in public. She was in her childhood home enjoying a weekly breakfast with her parents. She felt herself begin to flush with embarrassment, wishing she hadn’t just been fantasizing about some hot guy in front of her Mom and Dad. She really needed to get herself together, impossibly handsome man or not.

“Yeah, sorry. I’m just tired.”

“Sounds like someone needs more coffee,” her father said with his usual chipper tone. He got up to refill Emma’s mug and her Mom put more pancakes on her plate, which made Emma smile. This was so like her parents, to be totally in sync with each other and to have one guiding motivation of making their kids happy.

Emma had been on the receiving end of even more of their love and attention than usual lately because she wasn’t splitting the time with her younger bother Neal. Instead, her brother was off enjoying his summer in Boston with some of the world’s smartest teenagers at a camp designed for young geniuses. It was an honor, but not surprising that her little brother would get to go on such an adventure, because Neal had always been the smartest kid she’d ever known. All the same, Emma realized it was difficult for her parents to let him go away for such a long stretch of time even if he was thirteen. But after years of his early childhood when he’d had no choice but to stay cooped up inside and sheltered from other kids, they couldn’t deny him the chance to branch out. It was time for her brother to spread his wings a bit, if not leave the nest fully.

“Are you sure you’re getting enough sleep, Emma?” Her mother asked. Emma quirked a brow up in question and her mother qualified the statement immediately. “I just ask because I know there’s a lot on your plate. Your Dad’s told me how wonderful you’ve been and how much work you’re taking on at the clinic. I want to make sure you aren’t pushing yourself too much.”

“I’m fine, Mom,” Emma assured her, thinking that if anything the closeness to animals and the feeling that she was doing good works always boosted her morale. “It was just one restless night. It’s nothing to worry about.”

Any other parent would have been appeased by this kind of admission, but Emma’s mother remained tense even in the face of Emma’s promise. Mary Margaret Nolan’s blue eyes took in Emma as if studying for signs of an underlying struggle. Emma felt on the spot, but she willed herself to portray a sense of calm even if she didn’t fully feel it. Without her mother even having to ask, Emma knew the fear that both of her parents developed when Emma’s sleep was troubled. They were worried that the dreams were back, or rather one dream that had plagued Emma on and off for years.

“Why don’t I just give Doctor Hopper a call?” Her Mom asked, moving towards the phone. “You know he’s always so good at helping you. I’m sure he has time this week. Let me just -,”

“Mom!” Emma said, in a louder sterner voice that still tried to be courteous even in its forcefulness. Her mother looked at her again and Emma stood up and took her hand, trying to really make her see that she was making too big a deal of this. “I promise you I’m okay, and if I thought I had to go back to Archie you’d be the first one I told. It’s fine – trust me.”

Finally her Mom exhaled a breath and Emma knew the worst was over. The sudden bought of worrying had now mostly passed, and things could return to normal again. The three of them sat back at the table together, and though there was a kind of quiet that settled all around them, it wasn’t thick and tense in an uncomfortable way. Thank goodness for that. For now Emma had gotten away with her little white lie, but to ensure they didn’t go down that road again she needed a distraction. She jumped on the first one she could think of that had the highest chance of success.

“So have you heard anything from Neal?” Emma asked, switching over to something she knew they’d love to fill her in on. “How’s he liking MIT?”

“Oh he loves it,” her mother replied excitedly. “You should have heard him when he called yesterday. He was so excited about this flying contraption thingy. Goodness, he said the name about a dozen times, but I just can’t remember - what was it again David?”

“Drone Day,” Emma’s Dad filled in with a smile. “They had to design and build their own drone and whoever’s could complete the most tasks won.”

“Let me guess, his was the best?” Emma asked, already knowing the answer.

“Mhmm,” her mother hummed proudly.

Emma felt a similar surge of pride for her little brother, knowing Neal was a remarkable kid with an amazingly attuned brain. He was truly brilliant, but he was also kind as well. Neal wasn’t awkward or secluded from the rest of the world despite his talents; he was just a regular teenage boy with a unique ability to remember all kinds of things and answer problems faster than anyone she knew. He’d actually been told a number of times that he could test out of his grade early and head to college in just a couple more years if he so chose, but he didn’t want that. Despite his gifts, Neal had always wanted to be normal, and after everything her parents were more than willing to give him that.

“When are you guys going down there again?” Emma asked, knowing that since they dropped Neal off last week her parents had been counting down the hours until another family visiting day would come.

As expected, her parents prattled on about the mid-summer check in that would arrive in a few weeks, and her mother mentioned that there might be some need for her to go down to Boston in the meantime. If that happened, she might get the chance to see Neal then.

Emma bit back a laugh at the thought, knowing there was no real reason to get down to the city in the coming week, but she took comfort in the overwhelming love her parents had for her brother. Neal had always been there little miracle baby, born after ten years of trying to give Emma a sibling when all hope was relatively gone. When he’d gotten sick it had nearly killed her parents, but hope, and belief that things had to get better, along with some kick ass advancements in medicine, had cured Neal of the disease that threatened to take him far too soon. Having gone through all that with him, it was understandable that Emma’s parents would be so protective and fierce in their love for their youngest child, and Emma had learned a long time ago that it didn’t mean they loved Neal any more than her. There was more than enough love to go around in the Nolan family, of that she was totally sure.

“We’re thinking of having a big end of the summer cook out,” her mother said at one point, drawing Emma’s attention. There was no exaggeration in her mother’s world. If she said big, she meant big, like the whole town of Storybrooke big.

“Oh really?” Emma asked, already picturing it in her mind and knowing her Mom would find some way to top the dozens of other parties she’d thrown through the years. How she’d do that, Emma didn’t know, but the last summer party they’d had there were bouncy castles for the kids, elaborate lantern lights spanning the woods in the back of the house, flowers covering every corner of the grounds, and water fixtures just for show. Her mother had actually had a hedge maze put into the backyard. To be blunt, it was completely over the top.

“We figured it would be good to welcome Neal back home again and to celebrate your working with Dad. You know you never let us throw the graduation party I was planning last year.” Emma laughed at her mother’s slight pout. It was a well known fact to everyone in town that Mayor Mary Margaret Nolan hated to be denied a celebration.

“That’s because you started talking about hiring entertainers and acrobatic performers. I went to vet school, Mom. I didn’t join the circus. It was a lot.”

“It wasn’t -,” her mother began to say, but Emma watched as her Dad wrapped his arm around her mother’s waist and heard him murmur words of correction. This led her Mom to sigh and admit the truth. “Okay, maybe it was a little much, but I was just so proud of you. We’re both so proud.”

“I know, and I love you guys for that,” Emma admitted freely, standing up and giving them both a hug. “So if you want to throw the party that’s fine – just promise me you’ll try to keep it low key.”

Her mother replied that she would try her best at the same time that her father said ‘not happening,’ and the three of them shared a laugh together. But at that moment Emma realized her time with her parents was also running short. She had plans to meet up with her best friends Elsa and Anna today and if she left now she’d be there just in time to not get a scolding about being late. Emma made her goodbyes to her parents and headed for the front door, smiling to herself about the time she’d just had and how lucky she was to have her family.

By the time she was outside Emma was totally at peace, loving the warmth of the sun on her skin and the beautiful day that had settled into town, but just as she was about to head down the front path of her parents’ house and out into the world again, something caught her eye on the ground. Whatever the object was it was metallic, reflecting light where nothing should be at the edge of the emerald green lawn. Emma didn’t know what it was at first, but when she pulled it from it’s hiding place, half buried in the dirt, she was dumbfounded. It couldn’t actually be… could it?

Wiping the brown topsoil off of the pendant that hung on a simple white gold chain, Emma felt her fingers trace a design she’d studied for years. It was an unusual style of carving, but after close inspection it was clear this was supposed to represent a compass. North, South, East, and West were all represented, but the etchings in the middle were swirls that seemed almost ancient in their design. Emma had never seen anything else like them before, but she found this on that night – the night that could have very well been her last– the night that plagued her dreams for years. Seeing the amulet now, she felt the memories sink into her consciousness, as if she couldn’t control her own mind now that they were here again.

Sitting with Neal as he lay sleeping in the hospital bed, Emma tried to ignore how pale he looked and how weak he appeared. Her brother had always been a small boy, but now he was identifiably sick and it tore Emma up inside to see him this way.

Despite everything she felt though, Emma never ever let her brother know her pain. It was so hard, but every moment she spent with Neal she stood as strong as she could. Emma was seventeen and Neal was only seven, and where a few months ago she had thought he was often annoying and always under foot, now she realized what a gift it was to have him. Her little brother was the best kind of person, and she couldn’t even imagine him not getting to grow and to thrive and to put his stamp on the world. She had to believe he would get better. She just had to.

“Doctor, there has to be something else we can do.”

Emma heard her mother’s voice from where she stood in the hallway with her father and the doctor, and the frailty in her Mom’s tone cut Emma to the core. Here was a woman who always had hope, but right now her mother sounded like she had nothing to cling to anymore. She was starting to lose her faith, but she couldn’t do that. They couldn’t give up on Neal, not when he needed them more than ever.

“I know it seems bad, Mrs. Nolan -,”

“Mary Margaret,” her mother corrected, and Emma almost smiled, knowing that her mother was always trying to remind the staff at the hospital of their first names. She believed that by building a bond it would improve Neal’s chances of getting better, and Emma knew all of them would give anything and do anything to help her brother now.

“I know it seems bad Mary Margaret, but this is just the first step of the treatment. When you came to me I told you that the cocktail he needs of medicines are hard on any body.”

“You did,” Emma’s father agreed. “But we didn’t realize… he’s just so…”

“Weak. I know. This round of treatment is grueling and harder than anything he’s ever had to fight before. It’s a tougher combination than nearly anyone in this hospital will ever have to take, but it’s the only way we know how to maybe kill the disease. If he makes it through to stage two -,”

“When he makes it,” Emma said out loud, knowing she wouldn’t wake Neal who was still sleeping soundly.

Rising from her spot where she’d been perched beside her brother, Emma walked into the light of the hallway to see them. Her parents looked forlorn in the moment, and Emma could see the trail of tears that stained her mother’s cheeks and the welling up of unshed one’s in her father’s eyes. They were both at their breaking point, filled with despair and with guilt. The genetic nature of Neal’s disorder made them feel like it was their fault but it wasn’t. They weren’t seeing clearly because they were feeling too much. Emma, however, would not yield to the sadness yet. She had to believe that this would work, and if everyone else was too scared to be strong, then she would be strong for them.

“Neal’s going to make it,” Emma stated with conviction. “He’s stronger than you all think.”

“Emma, honey -,”

“Don’t!” Emma said forcefully, holding her hand up. “I don’t want to hear anything from any of you if it’s not agreeing that he will get better. He told me himself today that the pain wasn’t so bad. He just needs a few days rest and you’ll see. He’s going to be okay. He has to be okay.”

Before anyone could contradict her, Emma turned around and headed down the long hallway, running when it was strictly forbidden in the hospital. She knew she wouldn’t stay gone for long, but the harsh glare of the hospital lights and the dizzying, claustrophobic feeling that facing all of this caused in her needed some kind of relief. Emma had to get some air and some space, if just for a little while, and she moved down the stairwell and out into the side alley of the hospital. She had found herself out here a time or two before, usually during the day, and she was glad that tonight there was no one else around. She needed to be alone. It was the only way she could let the tears that had been building fall.

But in the instant that her eyes began to really blur with her emotion, something moved in her peripheral vision, causing Emma’s senses to go on alert. That was strange – since she’d just checked both directions and there was nothing there, but Emma had found in the months since they moved here from Storybrooke that wildlife wasn’t unheard of. There were raccoons in the city, and the occasional possum too. Emma assumed whatever it was would be something like that at worst, or maybe just a rat – which while gross was nowhere near threatening – but when she wiped her eyes and looked at the figure that stood in the shadows of the dumpster across the way, it made her blood run cold.

The shape of the beast before her was obviously canine, but it was way too big to be any kind of dog that she knew. The one’s her Dad had worked with all her life looked nothing like this massive, hairy, beast. Emma swallowed harshly just at the imposing size of this animal, trying to convince herself it was just some lost freakishly large golden retriever that meant her no harm, but then its eyes flashed red and Emma knew this was a real predator, and not some passing, unthreatening being.

Okay, Emma, don’t panic, she said to herself as she crept back to the door. Nice and easy, don’t freak out. Don’t freak out.

After a few seconds, she was back within arm’s length of the door and as she reached out for the handle Emma felt the tiniest surge of relief. There was enough space between her and whatever this animal was for her to get inside before it got to her, but then she went to turn the door and it was locked. Shit! Shit, shit shit! Emma’s eyes went to look for another place to run, but the beast was blocking the entrance to the street and it chose that moment to step further into the light.

It’s a wolf, Emma thought to herself, but it was hardly a coherent thought. The musing was just the product of a brain rocked by fear trying to make sense of the impossible.

How could there possibly be a wolf in the city? And since when had wolves gotten to be so large and so menacing? With the adrenaline spiking in her system, Emma’s vision began to haze around the edges. Her breathing became shallow, her palms sweaty as the emotion coursed within her. She heard a shrieking cry, only to realize it had come from her as the animal moved forward. It was a last ditch attempt instinctively to save herself, for there was nothing here in the alleyway to try and fend off a demon wolf.

The next few moments were packed with a flooding sense of fear, but just as Emma thought her final seconds on earth had arrived, another wolf jumped into the fray of things. It was crazy to see, watching the lighter wolf that was hunting her be tackled by one that was a shade of midnight black. It didn’t make any sense, and the strangeness of it kept Emma spellbound. She watched in a sick kind of fascination, but her instincts never told her to run, not after the new wolf arrived. For some reason she felt safer, as if two huge animals was somehow better than just one, and then the tussle was over and Emma discovered the black wolf had won out in the end. He looked to be similar in size, if not a bit bigger than her attacker had been, but Emma noticed the difference in the eyes of this animal. Instead of red irises, his were gold – at least Emma assumed it was a he. It just kind of felt that way as she stared at the mammoth creature that had saved her life.

“You saved me,” she said aloud, and then in the weirdest twist (likely brought on because she was fully crazed from what had just happened) she longed to reach out to this wolf. She felt the need to thank him, to be closer to him, but before she could get the chance the wolf sprang away, heading back down the alleyway and into the night...

The laughter of some of the neighborhood children pulled Emma back from the remembrance of that evening. She took a steadying breath, trying to remind herself that it had all just been a dream as she tucked the medallion in the pocket of her dress.

After years of working with her therapist, Doctor Hopper, Emma realized that whole incident had likely just been a mental break. The stress of her brother’s illness had pushed her mind to see impossible things, and in the light of the next day Emma found there was nothing in the alleyway to corroborate the story. It could not have been real in the end, and she’d resigned herself to the fact that though she’d never had a moment vividly captured in her mind, it couldn’t be the truth. This compass was the only thing that seemed to not belong in the light of day, and Emma had taken it with her only to lose it again years later when she was going off to college.

Finding it now felt like some kind of sign, a sign Emma didn’t know exactly how to read. She tried to piece it together as she moved through town to get to her date with Anna and Elsa, but it was all for nothing. There was no real way to know what anything meant, and for all she knew it was just a coincidence. The world was filled with them, after all, so reading too much into this would likely do her no good.

“Emma, you made it!” Elsa said by way of greeting as Emma walked through the door of the town’s tiny café.

It was a relief to Emma to see her oldest and dearest friend after a few days apart. Elsa was always so bubbly and kind, and the two of them, along with Elsa’s sister Anna, had been through everything together. Their mothers had been pregnant with them at the same time, and it was a long standing joke that Emma was just as much a sister as Elsa and Anna were. When Neal was sick Elsa and Anna were her rock and safe place. Elsa had even taken the bus a few times from Storybrooke to Boston during that terribly unsure time to see Emma and make sure she and Neal were okay. Then when tragedy struck and Elsa and Anna lost their parents in a car wreck just a year later, Emma tried to return the favor. She was diligent in making sure she was there for Elsa and for Anna, but even though she loved them to pieces, she wouldn’t call herself a particularly affectionate friend. As such it was a surprise to Elsa when Emma gave her a huge hug, trying to wash away the last of the emotions that the remembrances had caused.

“Okay, Emma, what’s going on with you?” Elsa asked, sounding almost like a mother instead of a best friend.

“Nothing,” Emma said. “What, can’t I give my best friend a hug?”

“Of course you can,” Elsa responded with a softer look. “But I know you and I know when there’s something up, and something is definitely up.”

“I bet I know what it is,” Anna proclaimed gleefully as she appeared as if out of thin air, giving Emma a hug of her own before leading them all to their seats and diving right into the conversation. “You heard about the new guy, didn’t you, Els?”

“The new guy?” Elsa asked as Emma blushed, thinking back to the stranger she’d encountered last night and not having the power to shut off the way her heart skipped a beat at the mere mention of his existence. She should have known that somehow Anna would be aware of him. If there was even a whiff of gossip in this town, Anna was undoubtedly in the know.

“His name is Killian Jones if my intel is correct, and you know it always is,” Anna filled in with the same sass and silliness that she always had in spades as she flipped one of her braids over her shoulder and continued on. “He’s renting Mrs. Hubbard’s cottage down on the beach for the summer, he drives a red pick up truck, and he has a bit of an accent but other than that there’s not much to know yet. Tiana said he just came into town to pick up his keys at her office and then immediately left. I asked around the diner and it turns out he hasn’t been seen since.”

“Well to be fair he only got here last night,” Emma replied as she digested the news.

Despite doing her best to seem unaffected, Emma was ravenous for more information about the town’s newest arrival. This was already more than she’d known previously, and truth be told even knowing his name felt powerful. Killian Jones – that wasn’t a name that you heard every day. It was strong, and admittedly sexy, and when Emma compounded that with the fact that Anna said he had an accent she was intrigued. There was no telling where the man was from just by appearances. All Emma knew was that he wasn’t from anywhere near here.

After a beat of silence fell between Emma and her friends, Emma realized she’d just stepped into a trap. Elsa, for her part, looked shocked at Emma’s added bit of news, but Anna only grinned as she took Emma’s opening to get more information.

“And just how did you know he arrived last night, Emma Nolan?” Ugh, she was so busted. Oh well, better to just tell Anna what she knew instead of trying to draw it out.

“I may have seen him for a second on my way to dinner with Mom,” Emma answered, hoping beyond hope her tone of voice wouldn’t give her actual feelings about seeing him away. Unfortunately with her best friends, escaping notice was impossible.

“Oh my God and you didn’t even call me?!” Anna practically yelled as Elsa asked, “Really? What was he like?”

“There isn’t really much to say,” Emma assured Anna, “I only saw him for a moment. We didn’t even talk or anything.”

“But he made an impact,” Elsa said resolutely, in that almost prophetically accurate way she tended to have.

“I guess,” Emma hedged, even though she knew for sure that he had.

“So you saw him. There must be something else you noticed. Spill it,” Anna begged, looking like a kid awaiting presents on Christmas morning.

“He’s different,” Emma said immediately, and before she could think the better of it she gave a better sketch of him. “I’ve never seen anyone like him before. He stood out, but in a good way. He kind of looked like he should have ridden into town on a motorcycle with the shades and the leather jacket -,”

“Oh Tiana told me about that,” Anna replied gleefully. “She said it was hot, hot, hot. Like James Dean in his prime only better.”

Emma didn’t understand the flare of something like jealousy at Tiana’s characterization. After all she wasn’t wrong. The man – Killian, Emma corrected herself mentally –was more than attractive. His aura had pulled her in more than any other man ever had, but Emma didn’t love the idea of other women noticing him. It was weirdly territorial and very unlike her, but Emma couldn’t deny the feelings as much as she might like to.

“He seemed kind of… intense,” Emma admitted, remembering the way it felt to be caught in his gaze and the way the look he gave her felt like a physical caress against her skin. “But I could just be reading into it. I don’t actually know him.”

“You will,” Elsa asserted suddenly, taking both Emma and Anna by surprise. The certainty in her friend’s voice caused Emma to shiver slightly, for in all the years of their being friends Emma had never known an Elsa prediction or insight to be wrong. Still it was strange. How could Elsa be so certain when she herself had never even seen Killian before? As if she could read Emma’s questioning thoughts Elsa qualified. “I just have a feeling about it.”

“Ohh an Elsa feeling!” Anna clapped happily, bringing attention to them from the other people in the café. “This just keeps getting better and better!”

From there Elsa and Anna began bantering back and forth over their tea and scones about what the future might hold for Emma and ‘her mysterious match.’ They went on and on, mostly teasing as they built out a whole trajectory for Emma and Killian’s relationship, but eventually Emma pleaded with them to have mercy. Much as she wanted to laugh along with the over the top theatrics and not think too much of this, it was harder than expected. What was meant as teasing somehow felt more powerful today, and Emma was sitting there yearning for all of these milestones to be real even though she didn’t know the man in question. The only way to shut it down was to do what she’d done with her parents earlier – and thankfully she succeeded, switching their conversations from chit chat of her would-be love life to other talks of the town and updates from Elsa and Anna.

Soon enough the afternoon get together with her friends drew to a close. Even though it was a Saturday, Emma still had errands to run and people to see. Right now there was a book on hold for her and her Dad at the library, and though Emma knew her friend Belle would be there a bit past closing time, she didn’t want to take advantage of the town librarian’s devotion to her job. Instead Emma took her leave from her friends and she hustled out the door and towards the library. The brisk pace she set herself was the perfect kind of distraction from her own wayward thoughts, but just when she believed herself to be in the clear, she turned the corner and walked right into a hard body.

The impact of the collision was harsh, with her hands hitting a hard chest first and her whole body following thereafter, but before Emma could stumble, two firm, warm hands reached out to steady her. The zing of awareness Emma felt at the contact should have been warning enough that this wasn’t an ordinary person she’d just met with, but she couldn’t believe that it could possibly be her newest neighbor until her eyes moved up her assailant’s body and her eyes clashed with the same stormy blue ones she’d seen yesterday.

Dear Lord, this man was handsome. Emma had known that after seeing him yesterday, but standing this close did nothing to dull the fierceness of her want for him. If anything she was more enchanted than before, having the benefit of his hands on her and the most alluring scent that seemed to cling to him wafting over her. His whole energy was this fascinating thing, sending little bits of shock coursing through her system. Her heart beat out in a frantic rhythm, but weirdly she felt more settled than she had all day, as if her body was taking comfort in all this awareness that she’d never experienced before.

“Are you all right, love?” 

His words melted into her as she luxuriated in the gravely tone and that subtle lilt Anna had mentioned. It was intoxicating to be so close to him, and Emma was so wrapped up in it, she hardly knew how to form words to respond. In fact she forgot to do so until he repeated the question.

“Yeah sorry,” she said, wetting her lips and pulling his eyes to her mouth in the process. “I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

“Do you make a habit of such accidents?” Killian asked, his blue eyes shining with a playfulness that threw her for a loop. Was he flirting with her right now? Emma found herself wishing that he was even as she stepped back out of his hold. It wasn’t polite to stand there cuddled in his embrace, but already she missed the feeling of his skin on hers.

“No. I mean not really. Not more than other people anyway. I mean sometimes there are hiccups at the clinic when the animals get checked in and… you know what, I’m babbling. I’ll shut up now.”

“Don’t stop on my account,” he replied, sounding genuinely interested in hearing whatever inane word vomit had been close to getting out seconds before.

“You’re Killian, right?” Emma asked, unable to help herself even though she was making it abundantly clear that she’d been talking about him.

“News travels fast in small towns,” he said, as if he knew first hand the dynamic of small villages like Storybrooke.

“You could say that. I’m Emma by the way.”

“I know,” he replied honestly, surprising her completely. 

She must have shown the shock on her face because his smile grew wider in return, sending her heart fluttering again like she was some silly schoolgirl. It was on the tip of her tongue to ask how he’d already picked up that little piece of info, but just as she was about to Killian shook his head and muttered something like ‘damn interruptions.’ She was perplexed for half a second before the library door swung open and Belle appeared.

“There you are! I was starting to wonder if you’d be getting here today,” Belle’s eyes shone with delight at Emma’s visit, but when she spotted Killian they went wide and Emma could see her regret. “Oh, sorry! I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“Belle this is Killian, Killian this is Belle. Belle’s the town librarian and Killian is…”

“Whatever you want me to be, love,” he replied, looking only at Emma and lacing his words with a delicious insinuation that she felt down to her core. It was without a doubt the sexiest thing a man had ever said to her and Emma was speechless in the face of it. After a few moments of fantasizing about what exactly she wanted from him, Emma tore her gaze from his. She felt the flush hit her cheeks as she looked at Belle who was a bit more composed but also totally amazed at the interaction. “Now, if you ladies will excuse me, I’ll leave you to it and be on my way. It was good meeting you, Belle.”

“You too,” Belle replied.

And me? Emma thought to herself, but the look on Killian’s face told her that she might have just blurted that mortifying question out loud.

“There are no words, Emma,” he assured her as he took her hand in his and brought it to his lips. It was a totally unexpected move. Both torturously tame and incredibly hot. “I’ll see you soon, love.”

With those final words he walked away, looking far too good for Emma’s sanity and making her wish there hadn’t been an interruption. She could only imagine where that would have gone if they’d had more time together. She had a hundred different questions and this indescribable need to just be close to him, but alas, now was not the time. She had things that needed doing, and by the look of the face on Belle’s expression she had a bit of explaining to do too. Before she did though, she wanted to be sure of something.

“That just happened, right? I didn’t dream that up?”

“Oh honey, that definitely just happened, and by the looks of it, it’ll probably happen again too.”

One can only hope.

Post-Note: When I was first asked to do CSSNS a few months back, my immediate thought was that this had to be a shifter story because every one I have ever read has the love at first sight, true-love element that I just LOVE writing for CS. Because it’s Once though, I also had to have the interruptive elements. That show was constantly making these two wait, and while I’ve done that (and will do it a few more times in this story), rest assured that there will be a big, beautiful pay off. Anyway I hope that you guys enjoyed seeing Emma’s POV and getting some of her back story. Let me know what you think and as always I hope you have a great rest of your day!

Tag list (if you’d like to be added just let me know): @jennjenn615 @winterbaby89 @kmomof4 @teamhook @coliferoncer @ultraluckycatnd @resident-of-storybrooke @snarkycaptainswan4 @nikkiemms @artistic-writer @allofdafandoms-blog @eastside-divebar @snowbellewells

[panticwritten]

What I Do

I have no capability of coming up with a better title than that, I just stayed up all night for the first time since high school. But I wrote a Trollhunters: Subverted thing and idek where the fuck this would be on the timeline for TS because the timeline is long and convoluted and annoying.

Poor shapeshifter is hungry.

I used one of these prompts from @witterprompts!

Word count: 1096

Uhhhhhh as far as content warnings go, there’s food insecurity, vague mentions of genocide and references to past trauma.

@asinwolves @avi-burton-writing @infinitelyblankpage @no-url-ideas-tho @marigoldwritesthings @jade-island-lives @ravenpuffwriter @breakeven2007 @spirit-wizard-nerd @steakfryday @alextriestowritestuff @cataclystr0phe  @perringwrites @davidvalencia323 @fluffpiggy @dont-trust-the-clogs @authorkimberlygrey @aclassilighthouse @cherrytying

If at any time you want to be added to or removed from my tag list, please let me know.

The humans believe my people are extinct. The ones around here do, anyway. Likens, shapeshifters, polysouls, whatever names they use have fallen into past tense and rumor in a mere three months since my clan was slaughtered.

It certainly makes it easier to move among them.

Do not grow overconfident.

I scowl at the demon’s warning. Just because it can’t walk into a town, just because I’m the only one of us that can blend in, doesn’t mean it has to order me around. I look just like a normal human and you could too if you could be bothered to change your form.

And disgrace all that we are, as you have?

I struggle not to snap back at it. Not to fall back into our shared space to give it a piece of my mind. The possibility of one of the others taking control, one without the disguise of humanity, is too dangerous. A crowded tavern wouldn’t be the best place to shift.

Are you snatching us a meal or not? the dreamwalker prompts this time.

I shake my head slightly to knock the distractions out. I once pitied full-humans for living alone in their minds, but with a growing number of souls joining us I’ve grown to envy them. What I wouldn’t give to have a moment to myself.

I melt off the wall and into the crowd. No one looks my way, though my heart beats an erratic rhythm with every raised voice, every brush of a passerby. The familiar fear of discovery infects my blood.

I only relax marginally when I drop onto a stool at the bar. My words come out without a stutter or pause when I ask for a bowl of the stew bubbling over a fire behind the man who greets me. My linguistic shortcomings are diminishing over time, and he doesn’t ask questions when I drop a handful of coins in his hand.

I wonder how long our meager supply of gold, refined with the demon’s flame and shaped with the holy one’s will, will last. We can hunt, if need be, but is the risk worth it? If a hunter catches us or rumors start of a beast far too close to the village?

Though, we have to move on soon anyway. It’s best if we don’t stick in anyone’s memories too firmly. I doubt the caravan would like to hear of a traveler matching the description of their escaped shifter, after all.

I try not to think about it when bowl slides in front of me. I tuck into the stew with relish, grateful for a fresh meal. The others sigh in relief. We can go far longer than a human without food, but four days of this have left us tired and irritable.

“Hungry?”

I jolt at the voice, too close to me, and I pull my stew close when I turn my head. I can’t help the defensive posture, but I manage not to growl at the well-dressed man in the stool beside me. He smiles kindly at me.

All I can do is blink.

If I thought I would be out of place here, this man certainly is.

I can’t identify what his clothing could be made from, but it has to be of much higher quality than anything in the tavern. With shiny hair and clear skin, he must have either the luxury of a place to warm enough water to bathe or a strong constitution against the cold. I haven’t seen anyone of wealth in this part of town after dark. They don’t like to mix with the poor or the hungry, the people I belong with.

After a moment, I find my voice. I even manage to speak in the right language, of which I am grateful.

“Always.” At a prompt from the holy one, I add, “Sir.”

“Well-mannered, too,” he says, as if amazed he could find such a person here. His grin broadens, and that certainly makes it less friendly. For the first time since I escaped my cage, I feel like an item on sale.

“Do you need something?” I ask, as politely as I can bear. “As you say, I am very hungry.”

He pauses a beat.

“You look like a bodyguard,” he says smoothly.

I raise a brow and glance back at the room. There are more people than I can count that could be classified as more intimidating than me. I haven’t had a chance to look at myself in some time, but I can’t imagine I look like much more than a half-starved, teenage, human girl.

You look desperate, the dreamwalker supplies.

And they’re right.

But I shrug.

“If you say so.” I pointedly turn back to my meal. “I am what I am.”

“How would you like to get paid to be one?” the man asks with a voice like honey. “I doubt you’d have any hunger pangs with such an arrangement.”

This is dangerous, the demon warns, even as I turn bodily in the stool to face the man. We all know what humans do with trust.

We do.

But we have enough gold for another two meals, with no guarantee of finding more. We can’t risk hunting if humans are near, and humans are always near with their spreading territories. I’m tired of being hungry.

I’m tired of having to be scared of humans. Perhaps they will be scared of me.

“I am listening.”

“I thought you might.”

Are you certain?

I push the holy one away with an irritable glance to the side. Of course I’m not sure.

“There have been rumors of bandits on the road leading to—” I don’t catch the word, and I miss the next couple when I try to focus on it. “—would pay a willing sword handsomely.”

“I have no sword,” I reply. I think of the others I carry with me. Of what they think of humans. Of what we can do together. “But I am good at what I do.”

He grins, and I wonder if I should trust how sincere he looks.

“Wonderful.” He explains where I should meet them the following morning, then leaves me with a small pouch of gold.

‘A token of good faith.’

I know it’s a lie. We’ve never had to protect anyone other than ourselves. We’ve never held a sword, save for empty threats in self-defense. No matter what the others may say, this is just another way to protect ourselves.

That’s what we do.

And I am very good at what I do.

[sarah-wants-to-write]

I Dare You to Love; Part Six (Star Trek AOS)

Life on the Enterprise is as close to normal as it could be, and Shari and Jim settle into their lives together on ship. However, Jim wants to move things forward, and Shari receives some unexpected news that will turn their lives upside down.

~

       God, but it had been a long week. Shari and Jim were all but collapsed into bed together, exhausted. A busy week full of missions, diplomacy, and inter-crew issues had Shari and Jim running around trying to keep everything together.

       Though not a member of Bridge command, or the highest-ranking officer by any means, her status as Jim’s soul mate gave Shari an unofficial role on the ship as someone people could go to for help with anything, to talk to. In emergencies, her orders were followed as often as Spock’s, or Jim’s. Shari had been rather miffed at the breach of protocol, but Jim was rather happy.

       “They respect you, and know that you know what you’re doing,” he insisted, smiling as she pouted about the situation “you should see yourself in a command situation, my queen. You’d definitely be at home commanding your own ship, if you wanted it.”

       “And I don’t’,” she sighed, leaning against Jim as he stood next to her “you know my aspirations. Being a Captain isn’t one of them.”

       “I know,” Jim replied, smiling as he kissed the top of her head “just trying to help you see why the crew holds you in such high regard.”

       An entire week of basically co-commanding the ship and they were exhausted. Shari had fallen asleep the moment she was cuddled against her soul mate, but Jim was still trying to fall asleep. It was then that his PADD started ringing with a video transmission. He bit back a groan to keep from waking Shari up, reaching for the machine and looking at the screen.

       Any frustration he felt went away when Jim saw the name, and immediately answered it.

       “Hey, mom.”

       “Hi, sweetheart,” Winona Kirk smiled at the sight of her sleep-deprived son “this is a bad time, isn’t it?”

       “No, no,” he shook his head, voice still low “it’s okay.”

       Like hell he was going to pass up the opportunity to talk to his mom. There was a lot he wanted to talk to her about.

       “You look exhausted, baby,” Winona insisted, eyebrow quirked at how quiet he was being “are you okay?”

       “Just a long week,” Jim replied “Shari and I have basically been headless chickens running around.”

       “How is that dear soul mate of yours that I have yet to meet?” she asked, smiling “I take it we’re being so quiet so we won’t wake her up.”

       “Pretty much,” he smiled, looking down to where Shari was snuggled into his chest “she’s not used to the role the crew has basically handed to her, but she’s really taken to it.”

       “She’s your soul mate,” Winona mused “it makes sense she’d have a steady head on her shoulders. How else would she get you to take care of yourself, the way you’ve told me about?”

       “Mom…” Jim groaned, smiling a bit “I love you, but were you calling for a specific reason, or just to talk?”

       “Rude, Jim,” he looked down to see Shari blinking awake “she’s got a point about you neglecting yourself.”

       “Woke her up, did we?” Winona chuckled “come on, let me say hello.”

       Jim rolled his eyes, smiling, as Shari adjusted so that she was in frame with him. He knew she wanted to make a better impression, but Jim knew his mom wouldn’t mind.

       “Commander Kirk,” Shari greeted, smiling tiredly “it’s nice to finally meet you. I’d apologize for my state, but like Jim said, it’s been a long week.”

       “Please, call me Winona,” his mom replied “and don’t worry about it. This is refreshingly…real, if that makes sense.”

       “It does,” Shari nodded “I’ve been wanting to meet you for a while, ma’am, and we were going to arrange a call, but things got out of hand before we could do so.”

       “I was Star Fleet, too, sweetheart,” Winona reassured her “believe me, I understand circumstances throwing a wrench into plans.”

       Even after just over thirty years, Jim knew that the loss of his father-his mother’s soul mate-hurt his mom to mention. It was one of the reasons he was so protective of Shari, and so much more careful on missions.

       “I’ve been told so, ma’am,” Shari declared, smiling for the older woman “Jim told me the story you told him, about how you and his father met. Spontaneity must be a Kirk bloodline trait. Something I fell in love with, with Jim.”

       “The bright blue eyes don’t hurt, either,” Winona agreed, smiling “I’m glad Jim got those from George.”

       “As am I,” Shari nodded, leaning up and giving Jim a quick kiss on the cheek “though I wonder just how much he’s told you about how we met.”

       “Not much,” Winona teased “just that a beautiful science officer stood up for him to two bad-talking security team members, when she didn’t even know him.”

       “That’s basically it, yeah,” Shari laughed “people are entitled to their opinions, but they really need to be mindful of where and when they talk about them. Especially if the subject of said opinion could hear it.”

       “Smart, fierce, and lovely,” Winona mused “I can see how you caught my boy’s attention.”

       “Even before I knew he was my soul mate, Jim grew near and dear to me really quickly,” Shari declared, smiling up at Jim “he helped me to become the more confident, outspoken person I am.”

       Winona watched Jim and Shari look at each other, and her heart swelled at the knowledge that her son had found his fated partner.

       “He gets it from his father,” she declared “you’re both shifters, so tell me; just what does my boy’s soul beast look like?”

       “A handsome blonde wolf,” Shari replied, curious why Winona would want to know “with the bluest of eyes.”

       “I’m not surprised,” Winona smiled “his father was the same.”

       “You never told me that…” Jim spoke up, looking at his mother in surprise “you just said dad was the shifter of the pair.”

       “I didn’t want you to feel more pressure to live up to his legacy.” Winona explained, giving her son a sympathetic look.

       “I think George Kirk would be more than proud of the man his son has become,” Shari declared, earning surprised looks from both Kirks “a great captain, and a good man.”

       “I’m glad my son found you,” Winona mused “he deserves to have happiness after everything he’s been through.”

       “I couldn’t agree more,” Shari nodded, remembering Jim telling her about his father, Tarsus IV, the Khan incident, and Altamid “and I promise I’ll do everything to make him as happy as he’s made me.”

       “I know you will,” Winona declared, smile never leaving her face “I’ll let you two get back to sleep. You look exhausted. Call me once you’re fully rested, okay honey?”

       “I will, mom,” Jim replied, smiling “I love you.”

       “I love you, too,” Winona turned to look at Shari, smile turning to a smirk “it was nice to finally meet you, Shari. I have to say, I always wanted a daughter.”

       “You and my mom will get along great,” Shari chuckled “it was an honor to meet you.”

       Bidding farewell, the call ended and Jim put his PADD back on the bedside shelf. Turning onto his side, he wrapped his arms around Shari and pulled her close.

       “Well, that went weirder and better than I thought,” he muttered, nose buried in Shari’s hair “I’m glad you and my mom get along so well.”

       “I figured we would,” Shari declared, smiling as her eyes drifted shut “she’s a wonderful, strong woman. I look forward to meeting her face to face.”

       “We still need to call your mom.” Jim mused, already feeling himself fall asleep.

       “We will,” She promised, pressing a kiss to Jim’s neck as she could feel his breathing even out “sleep well, my love.”

~

       Shari had been feeling ill for about a week, and Jim was worried about her. She normally didn’t turn down his advances, even months now after Arian and their first night sleeping together, but she had reassured Jim that she was fine. She just wasn't feeling well.

       Trusting her, after she’d promised she would go to Bones if she felt ill for any longer or got worse, Jim went back to trying to plan his next big surprise for her. They were approaching the final year of their five-year mission, and he knew it was the right time. He had the ring, a shield-cut diamond on a gold band, now he just had to figure out how to do it.

       He wanted to ask Shari to marry him, and wanted to make it special. So much of their life together had gone well, but not to plan, and he just wanted this one thing to go the way he planned it.

       Jim had discussed it with his mom, Bones, Uhura, even Chekov. The crew was their family, and he wanted them involved if they could be. Thanks to them, Jim was able to figure out a small plan.

       He’d call Shari to one of the observation decks, under the premise of discussing a ‘promotion’ from command. When she was there, under the stars with him, Jim would speak from the heart, before asking her to marry him. A solid plan, one they would celebrate with their friends once it was done.

       Though Jim still worried that Shari was ill. He really hoped she wasn’t.

~

       “I thought you said you two were being careful?” McCoy asked, looking sideways at Shari as she sat on the bio bed in a private exam room.

       “We have been!” she insisted “but we both know contraceptives aren’t 100% effective.”

       “Not to mention that Jim would be just that damn lucky,” McCoy sighed, looking over the results of the test “and he still doesn’t know?”

       “Not that I know of,” Shari replied, fingers laced together and squeezing tightly “I’m normally somewhat irregular, so I wanted to wait to confirm before saying anything.”

       McCoy knew what Jim was planning, and couldn’t help wondering who would get to reveal their news first.

       “Well, I can say for certain that you can tell him,” he told her, walking over and showing her the PADD and test results “congratulations, Lieutenant. You and Jim are gonna be parents.”

       Shari looked over the results, smiling at the excited butterflies in her belly. She’d had a feeling that she’d been ill from morning sickness, and finally found some time to go to the med bay without making Jim worry even more.

       “When are you planning on telling him?” McCoy asked, curious “and how?”

       “I’ll have to figure that out,” she answered, smiling nervously “you know, in a strange way, things happening like this makes sense. Nothing in our relationship has been ‘by the book’, or really gone to plan, but that’s what makes it as unique and wonderful as it is.”

       “Probably the only time any of us will see a relationship like that actually work out,” he chuckled “I’d tell him soon, though, so he can make sure we aren’t too far from a Federation base or station by the time you’re due, just to be safe.”

       “I wonder who’ll worry more,” Shari teased, hopping to her feet “Jim or you? Thanks for your help, Leonard. I’ll see you at dinner tonight.”

       “Yeah, yeah, now get out of my med bay.” McCoy waved her off, smiling a little bit all the while as she left the room. Well, it seemed it was time to encourage Jim to put his plan into action.

~

       It was only a few hours later, right before the end of Alpha shift, when Jim had paged her in her lab. He asked her to come to the observation deck, and he could feel the ring box as though it was burning a hole in his pocket. As confused as his beloved sounded, she agreed readily, saying she’d be there soon. Jim looked to the others who were gathered; Spock, Bones, Uhura, Chekov, Sulu, and each of them gave him a smile or gesture of encouragement. Even Spock gave a nod and had a vague semblance of a smile, which Jim knew was a lot.

       A few minutes later, Shari entered the observation deck to see Jim standing in the light of the stars, and he smiled upon seeing her confused expression.

       “Jim?” she started, walking over “what were you talking about over COMM? Something about a promotion?”

       “I’ll get to it,” he promised, reaching out as she drew nearer and taking her hand in his “there’s something I wanted to say, first.”

       Shari looked up at him, sensing the seriousness and nerves behind his tone, as he took their joined hands and kissed the back of hers.

       “I’ll be honest,” Jim started, looking down at their laced-together fingers “I never, in my life, expected to meet you. Yet, on the day of the mixer, when I saw you tearing into those two security officers in my defense, you crashed into my life in the best way. You caught my eye, and soon wormed your way into my heart with your persistent friendship and sympathetic ear and shoulder.

       “You grew to know the darkest parts of me, parts that most still don’t know,” he continued, free hand coming up to caress her cheek as he looked her in the eye “and still you remained. I still couldn’t tell you when it happened, but I knew I loved you after I had the first and only taste of what life would be like without you. It had torn me to pieces inside, thinking that we might not talk to each other again.”

       Shari’s hand came up to cover his hand touching her cheek, and she leaned into his palm to give it a soft kiss. His breath caught at that, but Jim forced himself to continue.

       “Loving you, being loved by you, my koroleva yaguara, made me into a better man, and I love you all the more for it,” Jim declared, smiling through the tears at her approving look of his Russian pronunciation of his pet name for her “I honestly couldn’t imagine spending my life without you now, my soul mate. So, there’s just one thing left to do.”

       Letting her go, Jim reached into his pocket and pulled out the box, opening it before going down on both knees in front of Shari. The surprised look on her face as tears came to her eyes was all the encouragement Jim needed.

       “I kneel before you, my queen, as a man who wants nothing more than to spend the rest of his life making you feel as loved and happy as you do me,” he repeated the words from memory easily, having practiced them for days “And it would be an honor if you would give me that chance. Shari Neilson, my love, will you marry me?”

       Shari was quiet for a moment as a few tears escaped, though her grin belayed any worries in Jim’s heart.

       “As though there was ever any doubt?” she replied through the happy sobs “yes, Jim. A thousand times, yes!” Jim grinned as he sprang to his feet, pulling her in for a kiss and tight hug as the others looking on applauded for them.

       When he slipped the ring on her finger, a perfect fit of course, Shari leaned in even closer.

       “Promotion, huh?” she gently teased “then I guess there’s one in store for you, as well.”

       “What are you talking about?” Jim asked, giving her an amused look.

       “Remember how I was feeling ill over the last week?” she replied, giving him a meaningful look “I went to see Leonard to see what’s going on.”

       “And?” Jim prompted, somewhat worried “what is it?”

       “A promotion for you in about seven to eight months’ time,” Shari answered quietly, smiling mischievously all the while “Captain Daddy.”

       She could see everything click behind his eyes, expression morphing into one of excitement and shock.

       “You’re…you’re pregnant?!” he whispered, grinning from ear to ear “we’re gonna be parents?!”

       Shari grinned, nodding fervently, before laughing in surprise as Jim picked her up in a hug and swung her around in a circle.

       “We’re gonna be parents!” he exclaimed in laughing joy, setting her on her feet before turning to the others in the room “she’s pregnant! We’re gonna be parents!”

       Now that was news to everyone but Bones, and the flood of congratulatory hugs and handshakes was almost overwhelming. It was certainly a night to celebrate, and that was exactly what they did.

~

       After the impromptu party, Shari and Jim were back in their quarters, cuddling together on the bed. Jim hadn’t stopped smiling all night, and his hand caressed her belly as they lay in bed.

       “Never thought this day would come,” he muttered, leaning in to steal another kiss from her “thought I might be the captain who was married to his work, his ship. Yet here I am; engaged, an expectant father. It’s more than I could imagine.”

       “I never thought this would happen, either,” Shari agreed, pressing herself as close as she could to him “but you know what they say about what life does when you make plans.”

       “You’ve got a point,” Jim chuckled “I love you, my beautiful fiancée, mother of my child.”

       “As I love you, my handsome fiancé, father of my child.”

       Shari couldn’t have been happier with how her life was going. Their family was growing, and she absolutely looked forward to the future, and all the plans they needed to make.

[nellie-elizabeth]

Supernatural: The Big Empty (13x04)

This season is kicking serious ass. I love it so much I cannot even tell you. Let's just dive right in!

Cons:

My complaints are really minor. There's a moment at the end when Jack steps in and saves the day, but the special effects looked pretty goofy. They did this sort of subwoofer sound effect and slow-mo and his eyes glowed gold and it was just kind of hokey.

Pros:

That's literally my only complaint. I sat there for a second trying to come up with something else I disliked, and I couldn't.

The main story involves Sam, Dean, and Jack hunting down a shifter who is disguising himself as lost loved ones before killing his victims. They think they've found the culprit, a therapist named Mia, but she proves her innocence. She is a shifter, but she uses her powers to give her patients a chance for closure. Turns out, it's her terrible, abusive ex-boyfriend, Buddy, who is also a shifter and who is trying to take away her happiness. The shifter gets the best of Mia, Dean, and Jack while Sam is away following up on a lead. It looks like Sam is going to get shot when he walks in the door, as Buddy has the whole situation rigged, but Jack manages to access his powers in time to save the day.

First of all, I like that the plot was simple and straightforward. We didn't need five different twists, we didn't need too many detours. Dead people are killing living folks. Ghost? No. That's ruled out. Shifter? Yes. The first shifter they find? No. I was almost waiting for yet another double cross, and was pleasantly surprised when it never arrived.

And speaking of, I really liked Mia! The moment when Sam realizes she's a shifter, and comes bursting into the room with a gun, was the perfect subversion of expectations. Sam and Dean both hold a gun on her, but she explains her innocence and the boys actually let her explain herself. They've certainly come a long way from shooting monsters on sight! And I loved the parallels that this created with Jack. Mia has learned to believe that being a "monster" isn't everything. It's not what you are - it's what you do with that. I was really pleased that while the disgusting, abusive Buddy got the ax, Mia lives to fight another day.

Jack is... just adorable and precious in all ways and I want to adopt him? I love that Sam and Dean are taking on pseudo-parenting roles with him, albeit very unwillingly in Dean's case. Sam accuses him of being like their father was, and Dean shoots back defensively, wondering if there's a problem with that. Both Sam and Mia point out to Dean that Jack is clearly scared of him, and just wants his approval. There's such a sad echo of Dean's own desperate seeking of approval with his father. It seems pretty clear that Dean can't look at Jack without being reminded of what he's lost, but by the end of the episode he throws the kid some praise, telling him he did a good job when saving Sam and Dean's life. This is such an utterly fascinating dynamic and I can't wait to see where it goes from here.

One of the highlights of the episode is Jack and Mia's private moment, where Mia shifts into the shape of Kelly, to give Jack the chance to talk to her and hold her and feel as if he's with his mother for the first time. This was just so emotional in every way shape and form, and the acting was spot-on.

Then you've got the Sam and Dean dynamic going on. The two of them, along with Jack posing as their little brother, go to therapy with Mia to try and figure out what's going on with the deaths in town. It's meant to be just for show, but Dean lets his resentment out into the session when he accuses Sam of being delusional for not admitting that Mary is dead. Sam lets out with one of the key reasons behind his grief - Dean was the one who had the relationship with Mary. Dean's the one who remembers her from when they were little, and Dean's the one she connected with upon her return. How is Sam supposed to accept that he's lost the chance to have a real relationship with his mother? He storms out of the room.

Now, in any other episode of Supernatural, Sam and Dean might have a fix-it conversation at the end and things would get a little better, but in this one, the outburst literally happens in front of a therapist, who calls Dean out in no uncertain terms: "you just made your brother so upset that he had to leave the room." In the end, we do get that fix-it conversation, and it's even more heartbreaking that you'd imagine. Dean apologizes for being a dick, and then Sam reveals an awful fear - what if Dean is right, and Mary really is dead, and he's just been in denial? Dean says he doesn't want to hear that - "I need you to keep the faith for both of us, because right now I don't believe in a damn thing." Dean admitting that he's hit rock bottom and he's willing to accept help from Sam is just such a critical turning point for their character arcs this season. I'm all about it.

This episode's title is "The Big Empty," which of course refers to the subplot with Cas that I'll be talking about next... but it also refers to the theme of grief that's prevalent through the episode. It's notable that nobody in the main plot ever mentions Cas' name. On the surface, the grief in this particular story is centered on the loss of mothers - Jack grieves for Kelly and Sam and Dean grieve for Mary. Jack learns that Sam wants him to help save Mary, and he's all on board for the plan, while of course Dean doesn't believe it's possible. We get all of these conversations and moments to talk about grief and the emptiness and lack of faith that comes with it, and meanwhile the specter (not literally in this case) of Castiel is hovering over the entire episode. We know he's not really gone, but on earth he's just left an emptiness.

Okay. Misha Collins. You're amazing, dude. This week, he gets to pull out yet another character, playing The Empty as a manifestation of the nothingness that came before the creation of everything. It's just a black nothingness, infinite and older than time itself. I love the idea of a place where eternal sleep is really a thing. It's not Heaven, but it's not Hell. You're just... done. And the manifestation of the Empty is eternally asleep as well, that is until Cas wakes up (thanks to Jack's powers) and starts disturbing his beauty rest. Cue a series of scenes where the Empty tries to get Cas to just give up and go back to sleep, and Cas stubbornly refuses to do so. In the end, we see Cas wake up, apparently back on Earth.

The Empty had this weird accent and this sort of jittery sense about him that reminded me a little bit of Crazy God Cas or Casifer, but not enough that it was just a copy of either of those things. Misha did a great job of creating a properly sinister yet still undeniably charming entity in the brief time we had with the Empty. The character creation was also good from a writing standpoint. It makes sense why this guy wouldn't be a mover and a shaker in inter-dimensional politics or power struggles. He's made of nothing and he'd just like to be nothing for the rest of time. Cas being awake is messing with that for him.

You've also got the fact that Cas' first guess when asked why he's awake is that the Winchesters must have made a deal to save him. He's not sure what's up, but the minute he has awareness of himself, all he wants is to go back, because Sam and Dean need him. The Empty tries to get through to him with self-loathing, telling him he's a worthless burden, that there's nothing waiting for him back on Earth... he says some stuff about knowing Cas' inner soul, and mentions knowing "who you love," which my shipper heart reacted to quite violently. Jury's still out on that one, though - it's possible the Empty was talking about Kelly. Or, I don't know, "humanity" or some crap like that. Regardless, the most incredible thing about all of this is that it doesn't work. Cas does not waiver in his desire to escape from the Empty, because he knows that his family wants him to come back. This is such a big step for Cas, who just a few seasons ago was allowing Lucifer to possess him because he didn't think he was worthy of helping out in his own right.

I've seen some rumblings in the interweb worrying that the figure we saw at the episode's end was the Empty, and not Castiel. I definitely see the worry, but I'm really hoping, for the sake of selfish desires and narrative building, that this is Cas, truly back from the dead. They created such a cool concept for the Empty, a creature of nothingness that just wants to sleep. It would be weird if that creature popped into the mortal realm for no good reason. And also, we've got the scene transition, where Dean tells Sam that he doesn't believe in a damn thing, and then literally the next shot is Cas appearing back in our world, pretty much ordained with the sole purpose of restoring Dean Winchester's faith. I am just all about that.

So... there you have it. This was an excellent episode. I'm enormously pleased that Jack seems to be sticking around as a more permanent figure in the season instead of jumping in and out of the story like so many cast members have in the past. I can't wait for Cas' return and all the epic reunions!

9.5/10