#like where random things in her SOUL will just mystically save the day

[mummer]

rtd why have you become allergic to subtlety my friend whats happened.

[lily-drake]

Fantasy/Twin AU

Sorry for being late and not posting for a bit. Was a bit burnt out and had writer block. I will go back to write the other days soon though. Also, sorry, I suck at writing wing aus, this is my first time doing it.

Earth J-236, an earth full of mystical life.  An earth where everyone is born with wings.  Your wings represented who you are; well not really, but that’s what people believed.  If your wings were bright and colorful then you were obviously an amazing person, but if your wings were darker or had little color, then you have great evil in your soul.  Marinette was born seconds after her twin, Damian.  It takes a few years before your wings fully grow in, usually to about 6.  But with the accelerated growth serums used in their artificial wombs, it took them till they were three for their feathers to sprout.  Damian’s were black like their father’s with subtle hints of red like their mothers.  Marinette’s were pure black, devoid of any color, and her mother was so proud of that.  She was the League’s charm, for it’s believed that anyone with pure black wings was pure evil.  Her only purpose being to protect her brother, nothing else was more important than her brother’s safety.  She would die for him, because if he died she might as well have died as well as her only purpose for living would be gone.

Damian glared at his sister, his wings ruffling in annoyance.  She was hovering close to him again, and she never said anything to him ever unless she was completely sure they were alone.  He did not believe that his sister was or could ever be, “pure evil” just because of her wings.  In fact, her mannerisms are the exact opposite of what people believed.  She, in her own ways, is caring, sweet, and protective.  He had seen, and helped, her nurse a baby bird that had fallen from its nest back to health.  She would often place little things around the base for only him to find such as some extra baklava, a throwing knife, a drawing of someone, beads, or other random objects.  Grandfather had always been extra hard on her, making sure she wouldn’t betray them, she wouldn’t become “evil enough to lose herself”.  Sometimes she would sneak into his room at night, and it tore him apart to see silent tears run down his little sister's face as small black raven feathers fell onto the floor from her days worth of training.  He had been learning how to fly, her wings had been clipped every two or three months so she could not leave the base.  She had learned long ago to control her facial and wing expressions, but he could always see the droop in them and the sad shine in her eyes as she stood on the ground while he was in the air.

________

Marinette looked up and watched as the fiery Phoenix flew through the air setting Nada Parabat aflame.  She didn’t feel much as she watched her grandfather get blown up.  She only felt great anxiety and fear as she could not find her brother.  She loved her brother, and if her job was to cause chaos, she would make sure she could prevent it from hurting him.  Grandfather had told her about how cursed she was, it’s why they had to be extra tough on her, and she understood that.  They couldn’t have her hurting anyone they needed, only the people they wanted gone.  She was angry at grandfather yesterday for taking some of her feathers for failing a task, this must have been her fault.  She didn’t want to hurt her brother, her wings had only proven nothing but destruction.  She had to leave now, then she could go where no one else was, and she wouldn’t have to hurt anyone else.  So like a coward, like the disgrace she was, she ran.  She kept her wings tight against her back making sure that no one could grab them as she ran.  An arrow hit one of them, but she didn’t have time to think about the burning pain as she ran and ran and ran farther and farther and farther away.  Tears ran down her cheeks as she silently prayed that her brother would be okay.

She didn’t know how long she ran, but she knew it must have been a really long time as she had just collapsed from exhaustion in the woods.  She looked back at her wings and slowly and carefully spread them out and hissed in pain from where the arrow had pierced her left wing.  Drops of red slowly dripped down her feathers and dropped on the ground.  She quickly closed them and made sure they were as small and put away as possible.  She looked up at the trees made of brass with different colored jade leaves.  Pearl-like apples growing on a few.  She watched a baby griffon follow it’s mother in the distance, turtle ducks waddling to a pond somewhere nearby, deer nibbling on plants, she could hear the rustling of leaves and branches from unseen creatures and everything was getting more blurry and dark.  She was cold, it felt very cold.  She slowly unwound her wings from around herself and closed them tightly around her, but that didn’t stop the chill that went deep down to her bones.  She was a failure, a mistake, she would only cause harm.  Here she wouldn’t be able to do that, and if she died here, then no one would be hurt by her again, and wasn’t that such a nice thought.

________

Tom and Sabine had finally been able to hire some trusted employees and explore places in Tibet.  They had made lots of money over the years with their successful bakery, and they thought now was a better time than ever to go on a real honeymoon as they hadn’t been able to afford it before when the bakery had first started.  It was during one of these forest explorations when they saw a trail of little drops of blood and felt they needed to follow it.  What they discovered broke their hearts.  There lying on the cold forest floor was what appeared to be a child hugging their very black wings around them.  They knew of the rumors and myths of black winged people, but they did not care.  They believed that their wings were not what made them evil, but rather situations put into their lives.  Sabine quickly checked for a pulse, and though it was slow she sighed in relief when she felt it.  She quickly handed the small unconscious girl to Tom and they both quickly went to the nearest hospital.  How could someone leave such a small child all alone to die like that?  It looked as if she had been injured if the dried blood on the small fragile wings said anything.  And worst of all, upon closer examination, they had been clipped, recently too.

As soon as they arrived they carried the small girl to the front and demanded that they take her in.  They waited until the doctors were done and gave them permission to visit claiming to be the girl’s adopted parents.  It wasn’t technically a lie, they would be soon even if Sabine had to force it to happen.

When Marinette woke up she knew something was off.  She was under a blanket, she’s never been given a blanket before.  The sent of bleach and chemicals were everywhere and it hurt her nose.  There was a beeping noise next to her that was giving her a headache.  She didn’t know where she was, and that was bad.  She opened her eyes a small fraction so nobody could see she was awake and looked around as much as she could.  The entire room was white and there were bright lights.  There were two strange people waiting in chairs near where she was laying.  She wondered if they were the ones who brought her here.  Slowly she opened them up all the way and silently sat up.  It’s best to make no noise, then she wouldn’t disturb anyone.

“Oh sweety, I’m so glad you’re awake.”

The woman said in a cheery and relieved manner, but she just continued to watch and study them silently.  Her wings felt stiff against her back, though she made sure they didn’t move or give anything away.

“How are you feeling dear?”

Silence greeted them, and her face remained as impassive as ever.  They wanted something, why else would they save a freak like her?  What were they aiming for here?

“Did your parents hurt you?  If so, we can take you away from them.”

Marinette’s eyes widened only a fraction.  These were randoms, innocents if you will.  They obviously had no idea who she was, and they seemed unafraid of her and her wings.  Did they not know how dangerous she was, didn’t they know that black wings meant she was cursed?  The man and the woman looked at eachother and spread their wings.  Marinette was shocked, but she wouldn’t show it.

The large man had light brown eagle wings while the small woman had white and black woodpecker wings.  She wanted to reach out and touch the feathers, but then something bad would happen to them, so she held her hands together.

“We don’t care what your wing color is.  Your wings don’t define who you are, it’s what you do with your life that does.  Can we please help you?”

The woman said sincerely as she gripped the man’s hand in hers.  She felt a pull to them, something telling her to accept.  She didn’t want to hurt them though.  But maybe she could protect them?  Maybe she could find a way around her curse and make sure they don’t get hurt?  Slowly she nodded and they both looked so happy when she did.  She hoped that she wouldn’t hurt them, they didn’t deserve to be cursed.  Maybe if she didn’t touch them things would be ok.  If she didn’t let them touch her then it wouldn’t spread.  She could do this!

________

Apparently she couldn’t do it because this is a very affectionate family, and the first thing that happened before they let her sleep on their —super fluffy, pure Heaven— bed was give her a hug.  She had made sure that her wings were tucked under her clothes and tight against her back the entire time though.  So they didn’t touch her wings, so maybe that meant they wouldn’t be cursed.

It was strange, because the next morning they went to a courthouse, and she was adopted.  She hadn’t said anything throughout the entire event, she just watched and observed what people did.  They stayed in Tibet for another few days before they flew to Paris, France.  This was supposed to be her new home.  The city of light and love.  Maybe here, it would stop her curse.  It was so bright that it had to block out her darkness.  She still always carried one of her knives with her, she felt naked without one.  Tom and Sabine seemed to understand somehow, and said that it was her business and that was enough for them till she was ready to talk about it.  It was strange not to be interrogated for now wanting to tell someone something.

Marinette had lived with the Dupain-Chengs for about a year now.  It was strange really, they were honest business people and their joy was always sincere.  They didn’t question much of what she did even though it was probably weird to them.  They didn’t punish her for messing up like the league did, and they never went near her wings without permission.  They never plucked her feathers, and they would often ask if they could preen her wings.  She would refuse every time, but she would often wonder what it would be like to have someone else touch them.  Think of what it would be like if she weren’t cursed.  When it was time for school she would always wrap them around herself then tape them so no one would see or be able to touch them.  Things were finally going well, she couldn’t risk it now!

There was a blonde brat that liked to act like she was above her, and because her wings were always hidden with no explanation she made sure everyone knew that she was “wingless”.  She didn’t care though, being wingless was better than being evil winged.  She never really said anything in class or to other students, she never gave much reaction keeping her stoic face up.  The brat left her alone soon after for being a, “ridiculous!  Utterly ridiculous freak.”  And nobody was the wiser.

Being Lady Chaos was….the best thing that ever happened to her if she was being honest.  Even with pure black wings, people still thought she was a hero.  She never flew, she was scared she’d fall and die.  She was never allowed to fly before, and even if she technically can do so now, it’s not worth the risk.  Her partner though, Mr. Bug has gold, red, and black wings.  He can fly through the air with ease she wished she desperately had.  Sometimes after patrol she would go to the very top of the Eiffel Tower and just stretch her wings out as far out as she could.  She would close her eyes as the wind blew past her and ruffled her feathers and pretend that she was soaring through the air.

________

Year three of living with Tom and Sabine she was comfortable talking to them more, and with Plagg there to control her chaos she finally let them touch her wings.  It was strange really, she never took care of her wings, never cared enough to.  When she first felt the hands on her feathers she had to will herself not to draw them back for fear of them plucking or ripped out.  But Sabine’s hands were so gentle and smooth that they seemed to move on their own and go closer to her touch.  Sabine would smile and hum as she gently preened the dark raven feathers that were soft and smooth.  Maybe she could finally tell the class that she wasn’t wingless soon, and maybe they would be okay with it.

No, they would not as she learned from listening to her classmates talk to the new student, Lila Rossi.  To them Lady Chaos was the only good black winged person because she was chasing after Mr. Bug to earn his affections.  Lady Chaos was obviously evil before she met Mr. Bug and she would always be evil no matter what she did.  Marinette felt nauseous that she ever thought about telling them the truth.  She had never felt more betrayed than she felt now, because she had given them her trust, and they broke it without even knowing it.  After that day, she made extra sure that her wings were hidden and wore a bit thicker clothing just in case.  Tom and Sabine are a little worried about it, but she calmed them pretty quickly.  She was fine, it wasn’t like they were all great friends to begin with.  That’s probably why everyone sides with Lila and decides that she’s a terrible person.

She had tried leaving her past behind, pretending that she didn’t hurt and kill people.  Pretend that she wasn’t a weapon.  She tried to push it far away, but it wasn’t enough.  It was never enough.  She had abandoned her brother.  She betrayed the league.  She did unspeakable things to please someone who would never care about her, just her use.  The city of lights seems duller than usual, it was probably her fault Hawkmoth came to be in the first place, afterall she was cursed to bring ruin everywhere she went.

________

Lila and Chloe thought it would be a great idea to bring everybody to the Crime Capital of the World for their senior trip.  Probably to watch people flounder and worry when things go wrong, which they definitely would.  She had stopped Hawkmoth a month before the trip, but Mr. Bug took all the credit for it. The arrogant self centered bas*.  Adrien kept giving her side glances that always made her feel uncomfortable and slightly disgusted.  During school he would try to touch her with every chance he’d get.  He almost discovered her wings at one point.  She couldn’t do anything about it before because of the stupid your-rich-so-do-whatever-the-heck-you-want treatment.  Now that Adrien’s family fortune is gone, and people don’t trust him because of what his dad did, so he has to be more careful.  He now kept some distance, which she was extremely grateful for.

She would have broken his hand, she had imagined it plus other things more than once.  But then Tom and Sabine would get in trouble by Gabriel for her actions.  They didn’t deserve that, they had been nothing but good to her since they found her abandoned in that forest.

She would be fine though, as long as Lila had a grip on his arm and she was in the back, away from him.  She listened to their tour guide, Richard Grayson, talk about the history and importance of WE.  The architecture was brilliant really, and you couldn’t blame her for having to draw and sketch it.  She often thought of Damian when she sketched.  She used to leave drawings for him around the base, little things that expressed her adoration for him without getting too close.  She wondered if he was still with the league, had he escaped, did he die?  She hoped that wasn’t the case, she hoped that he would be alive and well.  Bright orange and white wings nearly slapped her in the face if she hadn’t stopped right before the movement had occurred.

“Oh my gosh!  I’m so sorry Marinette!  Sometimes my wings just spasm out of control like that!  I didn’t hurt you did I?”

Marinette just silently rolled her eyes and took a few steps backward and watched the class glare at her waiting for her to comfort the liar.  She would never lower herself to do that.  She was still an Al Ghul afterall, even if she did leave it behind when she fled.  She was thankful when lunch came, she waited far away from the line and watched silently from a dark corner to make sure no one would hurt her.  Then she felt it, a hand touching her back feeling for something.  She quickly and instinctively grabbed the arm and twisted it behind them pinning it behind their back at a painful angle.

“Ukhti, let go.”

Marinette knew that voice.  She remembered that name and she could feel her heart stop.  The lunchroom was silent as they watched the small bluenette silently and quickly release the “Ice Prince”. Everyone watched with bated breaths to see what would happen next.  The boy’s wings were ruffled in agitation and fear.

“Where are they?”

He demanded.  Marinette knew what he was talking about, she simply wrapped her arms around herself and turned her head away definitely.

“Why are you hiding them, Malak?  Please.”

Marinette could feel her wings moving in defiance to what her brain was saying.  They wanted to be shown, they wanted to be touched by her brother again.  She looked down and slowly uncrossed her arms from her body.  Damian gently took her hands in his and looked directly into her eyes.

“Everything will be ok, Taw'ami.”

She slowly nodded and with shaky fingers reached under her hoodie and began to slowly unwrap the tape that kept her wings confined.  When all the tape was in her hands she hesitantly removed her hoodie and let her wings unfold from around herself and into the open.  She had made shirts that let her wings slip through slits in the back that were tailored to her wings specifically and were most comfortable.  Damian marveled at how big her raven wings had grown and how shiny they were.  He reached out a hand slowly and gently ran his fingers down the inky black that was her wings.

Shouts of fear and accusations were thrown at her, mostly from her class.  She didn’t listen though, she just observed.  The tour guide was coming over now, probably to kick her out.  He had such lovely wings though,  they were a deep navy blue that looked similar to black with dark red and light blue running through them.  They looked so well kept and soft.

“Damian, what’s happening?  Who is this?”

“Grayson, meet my twin sister, Marinette.”

“You have a twin?!”

Richard exclaimed loudly, drawing even more attention.  The insults and jeers stopped after that.  She looked over at the class and smirked when she saw their shock and confusion.

“Yes, keep up.”

Damian said brusquely.  They must know each other well then.

“Come, we must take her away from these imbeciles and take her to father.”

Damian grabbed her wrist and tugged, her quickly falling into line like she used to when he did this.

“Now tell me Ukhti, have you been taking care of yourself?”

She nodded as they came to an elevator and walked into it with Richard right behind them.  Marinette felt her feathers fluff up nervously.  She wasn’t in control of them right now, and she wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not. Damian ran a hand gently down her right wing trying to smooth it down.

“Things will be fine Marinette.  Just watch, father will be glad to meet you.”

She looked him in the eyes and squeezed her hands together.

“No, I have not told him about you.  Things will be fine though.”

He seemed to understand her weird way of communicating, she still didn’t understand how he did.  Richard cleared his throat and both turned to look at him.

“Sorry to interrupt, but um…I’m Dick, I’m Damian’s, and yours I guess, oldest brother.  It’s nice to meet you.”

He spread his wings in a welcoming way that meant and showed safety and peace. Her wings involuntarily rose up as well to reciprocate his greeting.  When the door to the elevator opened again she quickly forced her wings to hide on her back trying desperately to keep them from sight.  Damian didn’t seem to like it, but he just grabbed her wrist and dragged her to a large office room.  The plaque on the door read “CEO Bruce Wayne”.  Their father was Bruce Wayne?!  She couldn’t go in there, she couldn’t curse him and ruin his life.  No, she had already messed up at the league, and she was just barely not messing up with Tom and Sabine, she would definitely ruin Bruce Wayne’s life, and she would not allow that to happen.  She tugged at his grip desperately trying to get away.

“Marinette, stop.  Your wings are not cursed, that was a lie.”

Marinette shook her head and kept trying to escape the iron-like grip.

“Do you not trust me anymore?”

She froze at that and quickly shook her head.  Of course she trusted him, it was her that shouldn’t be trusted.

“Good, because we’re going in now.”

And that was that, because the door was now open and she was being dragged into the office room where their father and another boy with large bags under his eyes stared at them.  Damian puffed up his chest and feathers letting his strong, big, and brilliant wings rise into the air.

“Father, this is your daughter, my twin, Marinette Erebus Al Ghul-Wayne.”

They both stared at her in shock and Marinette slowly and cautiously raised her despicable black wings into the air.  Both stared at them in awe before looking back at her, but she didn’t meet their eyes.  She didn’t want to see the disgust and hatred in their eyes.

After a few moments she looked up and saw their wings greeting hers like Dick’s had.  Their father’s wings were a mix of black and dark grey alternating the color in each row of feathers.  The other boy’s were black at the top and slowly turned to red at the bottom.  But they were welcoming her openly, so that must mean something!  Well, it was time to get to know her father, she guessed.

[mage-and-the-tantrums]

Excerpts from a book I will probably *try* to write

333 Days home.

333 days ago exactly. August the 5th, 2020, I took my final return flight, from Istanbul to Tunisia, after 5 years of expatriation. After graduating quietly, on my bed while wearing shorts, I found no reasons to stay in Turkey, and no reasons to not come back home, in a world torched by a global pandemic.

Upon returning home, and within a month, I discovered how badly my family failed and grew apart. I never thought it could happen to us. My sister helped wake me from my stun. "They just behave for a couple of months, when you were here for vacations, and also whenever we called you on messenger. It's broken", she said, with an acceptance that should be forbidden to her age.

I was led, mystically, to discover some dark secrets. I refuse to talk or write about them here. Only one person besides me knows the whole truth.

The bitch and a half about knowing something that you cannot divulge to anyone, and I mean absolutely not a living soul, is that it detaches you from the world. It leaves you questioning your two best friends with whom you thought you would discuss anything. You charge and trial "in absentia" them, and you find them guilty without them actually doing anything. It has been an education, to discover what loneliness truly meant. I felt corrected, back to school, as harshly as possible, just because I thought I was alone when in Istanbul. Life showed me, in the span of 30 days, how much I could be alone, while within my family, my friends, and the country that I love and missed beyond words.

I would sit next to my friends, in the backseat of a car, listening to autotuned american rap (which I disdain), while they converse about girls, cars, and the eventuality of marriage with the inexplicable costs that it imposes in our country, and how one should escape this sorry corner of the world to Europe. I would hear scribbles and syllables, as if I shrank and sank 6 feet deeper into myself. The only thought swimming in the pool of my brain is "how little do they know about the dilemma tearing me apart. They are here, they have known me for years, they are practically the family I chose for myself. And yet, and yet, we're oceans apart. Nothing would be the same ever again. How many secrets could a person hold while sitting next to you ? We're all strangers to one another.

I truly discovered how loneliness could snatch someone from their settings, to dictate its own terms and draw an existence, in pale shades of grey for that someone to dwell in. At some point, I realised that, no matter how shockingly and frighteningly true my thoughts were, there were equally dangerous and self-destructive. Looking into what felt like a void is fun and instructive and intellectually probably sexy, until it begins leaking into your life, which it does pretty often. I was as alone as I permitted myself to be. I figured that I needed to create a breathing gap between me and some shit in my life, that, in the end, is none of my business. Some persons decided and acted, while apparently thinking so little to none about the consequences. It is not, nor it will ever be, under any pretext, my problem. I kept repeating it, slowly, breathing it into my lungs, and holding to that breath, in the corner of my room, during some long ass nights, and I realised that I really needed to believe that. I needed to find a formula to market that idea to my brain which kept feeding on the void. Truth can be a very subjective and useless concept. So I turned to another, more pragmatic concept; priorities. I asked the primordial, narcissistic question: "What about me ?". No one was asking that question, so I did.

From there, I cruised my way to restore some inner peace after a chaos that was served to me, and before I could speak, crammed down my throat. If I could reduce it down to a words, it would be this: "Everyone thought of themselves. Nobody thought about me, so why the fuck should I lose sleep over it ? I'll think of myself as well, because if I don't, no one will".

Friendships are another big, juicy topic. Tough love all the way, and if you don't like it, then you're overly sensitive. Tough love wrapped by layers and layers of selfishness and a critical lack of any notion of emotional intelligence. But at the end of the day, I think that I am privileged to have a circle of people with whom I can ride and spend time. It could have been a lot worse.

The food is awesome. I genuinely think that Tunisian cuisine is criminally underrated. It never got properly marketed on a global level (nor it ever will). It is very hard to not gain weight here, and I am regularly (although with a shy frequency) I go out to run.

Financially, I am leeching off my Mom, since I am still working on establishing an eCommerce platform with a friend. She gladly helps, and I feel so grateful for her support. She has been my guardian in these difficult times.

Do I think about expatriation again ? I honestly do not know. Tunisia has been sinking for quite some time, and everyone is looking for a way out. I am convinced that we should stay here and fight. No matter how little the effort, we should grab the situation by the reigns and ride our way, no matter where. But I understand those who believe in the "personal salvation". Everyone should aspire for a financial and a moral dignified life, which is becoming harder by the day here. The social tissue is more like a bikini now, with the bra being the wealthy who got wealthier (upper), and all of the rest including the middle class who are sinking deeper into the pit of bank credits. Want to get married ? that would be this huge amount that would never be able to pay for with 2 salaries and a 10 years saving account. Want to purchase a house ? how cute. Mathematically and financially impossible, even with the most elaborate and strict saving measures. But hey, all is possible with a huge, fat, juicy credit bank that would suck nearly half of your salary (if not exactly half) for 1 to 2 decades.

Being back home is re-calibrating your tongue, your digestive system and your daily habits. It is a constant rewiring, and an eternal effort to make things better, because we know better now. Being back home is struggling to find your place again, because everyone is so used to your absence they often need to be reminded you're here now. Being back home is the choice to actually stress-test your relationships, and see if people would bother to grant you once again, access to their lives. Being back home is the shocking resolution that most won't bother to call, and that most relationships are as random as the circumstances. In a parallel reality, you wouldn't even be friends. Being back home is very far from being the solution to anything. But being back home feels like recharging. It feels once again that I am alive.

[auarchivist]

This picture can kind of fit into any one of various AU's. It showcases some of the characters I like to write and draw as well as a few original characters of mine.

((WARNING: long post incoming))

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It isn't everyday that James can get everyone together in one place, so when it did finally happen he planned on making the most of it with a little photo. It took a bit of moving around, but they managed to get everyone in the shot. FRONT----    From the far north is Paula, ever the joker type she finds good humor in almost anything. When she's not out in the wilderness or at home with her faithful blue ox, Babe, she can usually be found having tea and good conversation with her closest friend, Kitty. Out of all of the youngins Kitty has taken in, Hazel is by far the fondest of the bear woman, even going as far as to call her "Auntie Paula". A title Paula seems quite happy with. When it came to the new faces of their little group, Paula was always one of the first to warm up to them, but don't let her sweet nature fool you. Personality wise, she may be a teddy bear, but she's still a bear and she's got the strength to back it up.    Up next is the ever chaotic coyote Huehuecoyotl better known as Huey. Despite what people say about him, Huey is more than just an oblivious fool. In fact, he has often surprised those that doubt him with his random moments of genius. That being said while there is a method to his madness, its still madness. He can often be found at the village of Hatfield ,where all see him as the spirit of the village, hanging out with Calamity or helping James with his research on Moguels and magic. If not, then he is more than likely stealing a scarecrow somewhere.    Zim found himself at a low point, not too long ago, after finding out his mission to conquer earth was in fact just a lie by the tallest to get rid of him. Without goal or purpose and dealing with the realization that he might actually be a bad person, he fell into a state of depression. But all that changed when his ship crashed and he met Erma and the Williams family. Now he has turned over a new leaf, and is determined to achieve greatness by aiding those he can. Despite this though, Zim is very much still the ego filled, deranged megalomaniac he has always been, but now with more noble goals in mind. Despite his shortcomings in socializing Zim has managed to make close friends with Spinel and Catra and even forming a relationship with Erma's old babysitter Felicia (how he managed that is a mystery even to him).    Felicia has been familiar with the paranormal for a few good years now. From being the Williams go to babysitter to dating a former Irken Invader. She has taken all the weirdness in her life in stride, almost unfazed by any of it. Cool and level headed under pressure, a quick thinker and a good dose of bravery has made her infamous to those she has faced on ill terms, especially among the Irkens.    The young girl Erma is certainly a unique one, being a hybrid of human and Yokai descent, people in very high places have had their eye on the little girl for a long time, and for good reason as she is a well and true powerhouse of a child with abilities straight out of a horror movie. Despite this she is very much still a child and when she's not at school or at home watching a slasher flick, or the latest episode of Warrior Unicorn Princess with Gir, she can usually be found with her friends, Hazel Hali and Kaio (last two not listed).    Frosta has certainly had an adjustment period to go through and to be perfectly honest, who can blame her?  After all, its not everyday you lose your home planet. Luckily she has not had to face this alone and has adjusted rather well. All things considered. Nowadays, she lives with glimmer out in the country mastering her ice powers and trying to make friends. Turns out being former royalty can be a blessing and a curse when it comes to socializing.    When Kitty found Hazel one cold, snowy night she had every intention of finding her a proper home elsewhere come morning. But that very night, with the fire roaring, and the child asleep by her side as she quilted, any such notions went flying out the window when morning arrived. Sense then Hazel has been living with Kitty and James slowly and surely coming out of her shell (pun intended) and has become very fond of her new found family. Its clear to those that know her well that she still has some inner demons to work through.    Spinel is the one person that could possibly hope to match Huey in terms of randomness. After Zim stopped her injector plans, with the help of the crystal gems (if you asked Zim he did it all on his own) Spinel stayed on Earth to help fix the damage to beach city and afterwards the two were practically inseparable. The Irken was surprised to learn that the Toony Gem was in fact quite the genius in her own right.  Spinel helps him with a number of his experiments when she's not helping defend the local villages or hanging out with the others. She's even become quite popular with the local children, due to her zany sense of humor and neat tricks and abilities. Which has led to her taking up a side gig as an entertainer. Couch----    Despite appearances Dr. James Algernon was, in fact, human at one point in time. When he was a young boy and the "black ick" had spread across the continent James had the good fortune of running into a young Kajortoq and since then the two had grown to be quite close (much to Paula's teasing). Of course one day old James let his curiosity get the better of him, and he came to an abrupt and brutally painful end.  On the bright side, he did prove Chupacabras were real..and that they could get rabies. For most folks that would be where their story ended, but it seems no one informed James of that fact. As he somehow managed to have his soul inhabit the body of one of angels bizarre puppet dolls, made from wood and the bones of some kind of canine. An expert in the fields of psychology, anthropology, biology, and things retaining to the occult and mystical Dr. Algernon is driven by two things, his love for those he considers family and his borderline obsession with understanding the workings of Magic, both of which have blinded his hindsight and common sense a few times in the past.      The anxious feathered snake Quetzalcoatl, better known simply as Corn, is a quiet soul. Ever sense he was a little hatchling raised by kitty, Corn has always been more at ease alone or with the people he knows well. He earned his nickname when it was discovered the serpent boy had quite the green thumb, especially when it came to growing corn. He has certainly appreciated the additional help he has gotten recently in the form of his adopted sibling figure Hazel and his kindred spirit Wrodak.  Both of which he has become rather attached too.    When Kajortoq was little she was best known for two things, having a lovely singing voice that could heal the sick and for acting way older than she actually was. Now a young adult, she is still known for those things but as of recently she has become known for being the new wielder of the Red Tezcatlipoca. This is an ancient and powerful artifact that takes the form of a burning red wood-stove poker, and can harness the power of the Earth's molten core. It is also said to embody "the virtue of Judgement". Despite her cold exterior, many who know her can vouch that beneath that is a kind, nurturing women. Which has lead her to being what some would call the "mom friend" of the group. It is not too far away from the truth either, as she is already looking after three youngins, Corn, Hazel, and Charles, and has taken Catra under her wing.    Many do not know what to make of Ozama Angeline, or Angel as she is known by her friends. The powerful spirit seems to be a genuinely sweet girl despite her appearance, But the fact that she comes from the "Mictlan Woods", a Realm notorious for being a place for the lost and unwanted souls of the dead; and filled with strange doll and puppet beings made of bone, cloth and other materials (some seemily made by Angel herself), made people a tad hesitant to trust her. But over time people have grown to accept the patchwork girl being around (for the most part).  Nowadays when she is not in Mictlan she can be found tagging along with her adopted human sibling figure, Charles and his friends.    Charles is the very definition of "Problem child" which is no surprise given that his parents were from rival villages, leading to them abandoning him to perish in the cold of winter.  He was found by Angel and Amaroq (not shown). This alone would have lead to the boy having issues, but then it just so happened that he was chosen to wield the Black Tezcatlipoca, a black mass that when left on its own, nearly covered the world in an endless sleep, before being sealed away by Xipe Totec and the three siblings (Xochiquetzal, Ixtlilton and Xochipilli). When he first started using the "black ick" he planned to simply use it to end the villager's feud, but given the fact that he's a kid dealing with the people who abandoned him just for being related to someone from another village, and he now had control over a powerful magical artifact, he got a little mad with power. If it weren't for Kitty and the others' intervention, things could have gotten much worse than it already had. Nowadays he lives both in Mictlan and with Kitty, and while it took awhile, everyone has come to accept him as a member of the group. He has even managed to make a few friends. back----    An expert in illusion magick, Wrip is a master of disguise, all with the help of the magick bottles she makes herself.  If that doesn't work, this resourceful rabbit often uses her skills in flattery and persuasiveness to get her way. A  trick that works on most, save for her significant other Vinkle.    A long time ago Vinkle was charged by the local villages to reign in the illusive rabbit, Wrip.  Whos untethered nature upset them somehow. The finer details of what transpired afterword's is unknown to all, except for them. As what they have told others has, in their words, "creative licenses" but in the end, whatever happened left the two falling for each other and forming a relationship. At first glances it would appear that Vinkle is not all that bright, given his quiet and seemly distractible nature, but in reality he is simply a man of few words and is surprisingly quite perceptive of things.    Catras life has been, to put it lightly, rough. Her childhood was spent as a soldier in training in "The Horde"  with Adora, both of witch were raised by the dark sorceress Shadow Weaver (because that's a name of someone I'd trust around kids).  It was clear to all that while Shadow Weaver loved Adora like a daughter, she merely tolerated Catra, delivering torturous punishments  on the Magicat for any discrepancies caused by either of the two. This harsh treatment would leave psychological, mental, and emotional scars on Catra.  This would lead to her falling into a downward spiral, into villainy, leading to her hurting and driving away the few people in her life that still cared about her. Now after defeating Horde Prime and the exodus to earth, Catra continues her journey of redemption and luckily for her it is not a journey she's taking alone. From Kajortoq who has taken her under her wing, to her two close friends and co-former villains, Zim and Spinel, and finally Glimmer one of the few people in Catras life that has stuck around (and to who she "secretly" feels very deeply for).    Glimmer, the former princess of Brightmoon, was once hailed as a hero of the rebellion and their battle against the Evil Horde. (Why they called themselves "The Rebellion" despite not being concurred by the horde yet is anyone's guess.) But close to the end of the war she lost her mother Queen Angella.  This set her down a dark path, where her anger and grief led her to being manipulated by Shadow weaver. The conniving sorceress convinced Glimmer to activate a powerful device that paved the way for Horde Prime to find Etheria. After his defeat and moving to earth, Glimmer now tries to fix her reputation among the other Etherians as well as redeem herself. Since coming to Earth the former Princess has had a very rocky relationship with her old friends, not only for activating the device, but also for staying with Catra who she has grown very close to (and who she secretly holds feelings for) She has also begun looking out for Frosta, who still greatly admires the sparkly princess.    Icobod, the resident Book worm/stick in the mud of the group, is extremely knowledgeable in a few magical and academic fields. He is also a rather superstitious bird and is obsessed with omens, taking even the most simple ones with the utmost seriousness. Growing up in Hollow, Ichy hid his moguel nature, spending much time in his human form, fearing scrutiny by others if they knew the truth. This lead to him growing distant, even amongst his friends. Nowadays he had grown more comfortable around others, with the resident Irken taking a liking to the "large birdman of science" as he calls him. Another thing worth mentioning is that he has a considerable crush on Wrip that he has not entirely gotten over.    The adoptive little sister of Icobod, Chalchiutlicue, or Calamity as she prefers to go by, is in many ways his polar opposite. With a laid back, free spirit nature, she enjoys spending time out in the wilderness with her friend Huey. Make no mistake though, Calamity may be laid back, but when the time is needed she is more than willing to do what she feels needs to be done. She is also one to usually follow her gut, trusting her instincts despite others input. This has actually contributed to her becoming the wielder of "Tlalocs Tuning fork" a large intricately designed tuning fork that grants the wilder the power to control water provided one sing a certain haunting lyric. When Catra first joined their group, Calamity was very wary of her, but nowadays she has found in some ways a kindred spirit in the Feline Humanoid.    The Newest member of the group, Irina is quite the brawler, seemly always having some kind of bruise or some other injury on her. Despite this the foul mouth canine has quite the cheery disposition, witch goes well with her morbid sense of humor. Her favorite hobby. it seems, is poking fun at Calamity, the only person around who seems capable of matching her wit and despite the Lizard girls statements to the contrary, she always seems happier with the Canine girl around. Nor can anyone deny the glances the two shoot each other when they think the other isn't looking.      Last but certainly not least is "Wrong Hordak", or Wrodak as usually he goes by. When the former drone was cut out of Horde Primes hivemind he was a sobbing wreck as he saw himself as impure and lacking a purpose. Later on though, he saw through Horde Primes lies and aided in his downfall. Nowadays he is happy to be of assistance wherever possible. Usually helping Corn tend to his plants, or with Zim and Jame's research into the occult.               ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Kitty, Corn, Calamity, Icobod, Huey, Wrip, Vincle, angel and chareles are from "No Evil" by Betsy Lee it can be found on YouTube and I highly recommend it especially if you love fantasy and Folklore as much as I do (witch is a LOT) Catra, Glimmer, Frosta and Wrodak are from She-Ra and the Princesses of Power on Netflix by Noelle Steven Felitia and Erma are from the Comic series Erma by Brandon Santiago Zim and Gir are from Invader Zim by Jhonen Vasquez Spinel is from the Steven Universe movie and Steven Universe Future by Rebecca Sugar Hazel is from infinity train by Owen Denis

[rottmntquotes]

Petition Episode (Joke Script Part 1)

(Screen opens up on Donnie; He is sitting in his lab, working on his Self-Cleaning Toothpick, and whistling the show’s theme song. A beat or two passes before Leo races into the lab, and the camera focuses on Leo as he scrambles around, constantly falling onto his face. In an attempt to get Leo to leave, Donnie turns in his swivel chair to face Leo.)

Donnie: Leon, what do you want?

Leo: DONNIE! You have to see this!

Donnie: See what, exactly?

(Leo shoves his phone in Donnie’s face, smiling with enough force to split his face in half. With surprise clear on his face, Donnie slowly takes the phone, raising a brow and turning his focus to the commercial playing on the screen.)

Announcer #1: Hello, hello, hello! Are you a bored soul? A lonely pony? A group or duo who has nothing better to do than sit around at home and work on meaningless inventions?

Donnie: Hold on, wha-

Leo: SHhhhHHHhhHHH!

(Donnie glares at Leo briefly, sighing heavily before looking back at the phone screen.)

Announcer #1: If you answered yes to one, two, or all of those questions, then you may be eligible to try out for a new show filmed down here in the Hidden City!

(Donnie’s eyes widen slightly; He looks at Leo, silently asking for an explanation.)

Leo: It’s a commercial Draxum showed me! He managed to pass through a mystic wall that allows me to get news and stuff from the Hidden City!

(Donnie hums, handing the phone to Leo and thinking intensely. Leo waits as patiently as possible, glancing around and reaching for Donnie’s Self-Cleaning Toothpick. Donnie slaps Leo’s hand away, coming to a conclusion.)

Donnie: I assume there is a reason behind you showing me this commercial?

Leo: Yeah there is! (He jumps up onto Donnie’s desktop to sit next to Donnie) I wanna do it!

Donnie: How does that affect me?

Leo: Because I wanna do it with you, doofus! We rarely do anything together anymore!

Donnie: We went to get ice cream together just two days ago.

Leo: Okay, but-

Donnie: And the day before that we played six rounds of cards.

Leo: Don-

Donnie: And two days before that we watched a marathon of your favorite Jupiter Jim movies.

(Leo scoffs, throwing one leg over the other and sighing dramatically.)

Leo: Fine! Be that way! I guess it is too much to ask!

(Donnie lifts a brow, smirking lightly.)

Leo: It’s not like I want to spend more time with my favorite big brother anyways! Oh, woe is me to have my brotherhood left in twain!

Donnie: Are you done?

Leo: Hold up, not yet. (He leaps up to stand on the desktop, leaning back and placing the back of his right hand on his forehead, and pouting) I cannot believe what my life has come to! Whatever shall I do without the love of my entire family?! I feel myself withering away! Oh! Ancestors, is that you?

(Donnie shakes his head, now smiling widely.)

Donnie: Nardo, if I agree to go, will you stop?

(Leo drops his act, nodding rapidly. Donnie sighs, reluctantly agreeing.)

Leo: Heck yeah! Let’s go participate in a Hidden City game!

(The screen switches to the Hidden City, where the boys are following a map given to them by Hueso to find the studio of the game. Leo is constantly making near contact with random Yokai, and Donnie tries his damndest to keep this from happening to his best ability.)

Leo: Okay, acording to the map, the studio should be right-

(A Fox Yokai interrupts Leo with a loud cheer. She is dressed in a red dress with purple highlights, and her tail and head tuft are purple as well. The twins are less than impressed by this look, and show it with their confused/slightly disgusted frowns.)

Donnie: Uhm, can we help you, ma’am?

Fox Yokai: Yes! I am one of the announcers of the game, and you are the last Yokai on the roster!

Donnie: Wait, the last-

(Leo pushes Donnie to the side, knocking Donnie onto the ground unintentionally. Leo then shakes the Yokai’s hand and introduces himself.)

Fox Yokai: Yes, I know who you are, and I also know who your brother is. We will go over the formalities later, for now we must get into the building.

(Leo helps Donnie up, shaking with excitement. Donnie rolls his eyes, placing his right hand on Leo’s head.)

Donnie: I don’t trust this Yokai. She knew too much about us before we even spoke.

Leo: You’re just being paranoid. (He removes Donnie’s hand) No need to be! We’re here together! And we’ve got each other’s backs! Our Twin Trust hasn’t failed us before, after all.

(Donnie grumbles, unable to deny Leo’s claim.)

Leo: C’mooooon, Don! Just this one thing! Then I’ll do whatever you want to do the next time we hang out! I promise!

Donnie: Ugh... fine. But on one condition.

(Leo tilts his head.)

Donnie: You have to assure me that this isn’t like that stupid Maze of Death.

Leo: Don, please. I would know if this was anything like that maze. And, it isn’t. You have my 100% Leo Guarantee!

(Almost instantly, the camera switches over to Raph, Mikey, and Splinter, who are sitting in the living room. All of a sudden, Draxum appears out of nowhere, startling everyone.)

Draxum: JITSU! WHERE IS THE BLUE ONE?!

Splinter: What are you talking about?!

Draxum: I showed your son a commercial of one of the most dangerous Hidden City games in an attempt to get him out of my apartment!

Raph: WHAT?!

Mikey: Barry! How many times have I told you that that’s not an efficient way to get rid of the twins?!

Draxum: I know, I know! But now isn’t the time to worry about that! (Turns To Face Splinter) Your son, depending on when he inevitably left, is about to sign himself up for a Hidden City game that ends in death nearly 97.55% of the time!

(Raph faints, his body thudding so hard that it makes everyone jump. Mikey chuckles nervously, tending to Raph and leaving Splinter and Draxum to talk things out.)

Splinter: What made you think that showing Leonardo such a commercial was a good idea?!

Draxum: He would not stop talking to me! It was the only thing I could show him that kept his interest! When he said he was going to show the purple one and ask if they could go together, I thought he was joking! That’s his thing! It’s was he does!

(Splinter groans, pinching the middle of his snout before sighing heavily and looking back at his sons. Mikey had managed to wake Raph up, and they were now looking straight at their father.)

Splinter: We must go and save your brothers. Goodness knows what they have gotten themselves into.

(The camera switches to the twins, who are standing in the middle of a group of large Yokai. Donnie is visibly worried, his legs are shaking, his hands clenching around his Tech Bō, and his eyes are shifting around to keep track of his surroundings. Leo is visibly excited, he is standing straight, smiling cheek to cheek, and biting his lip to keep from shouting his joy. The group is standing outside a large house, and they are looking at the Fox Yokai, and a brown and white Rabbit Yokai. The Fox Yokai is clearly happy, and the Rabbit Yokai is clearly disinterested in the situation.)

Leo: *Whispering* Are you ready Don?

Donnie: *Whispering Angrily* N-not r-r-really...

Leo: *Whispering* Hey, it’s gonna be okay. I’m here with you, remember? Twin Trust.

(Donnie calms down substantially, sighing ruefully and leaning against Leo.)

Donnie: Remind me never to do stuff like this with you again.

Leo: No.

Donnie: And why not?

Leo: Because you know you have fun bonding with me.

Donnie: Yeah, when I’m not being threatened with death.

(Leo chuckles, giving Donnie a sideways hug. The twins look forward, waiting for the Yokai to begin explaining what is expected of them. Beside the twins, the Yokai around them are getting slightly antsy. Donnie and Leo share a look of uncertainty. Leo seems more put together than Donnie, but neither objects to the idea anymore. Donnie then looks at the ground, thinking to himself.

“This is not going to end well...”)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

*This was completely experimental, and I’ll keep going based on the feedback I get. Hopefully this gives you an idea of what I think would make a neat episode.

[writingsoftheunderworld]

Hey, could you do a request please where Damon and the reader have been going out for like a really really long time, and eventually he gets sick of saving the world and stuff and worried about her getting dragged in so he goest to live with her full time 💖💖

Hey, hope this fits what you wanted, if not I’m more than happy to go for an alternative to this. This is what came to mind when I read your ask, do let me know if you enjoyed it.

They’d met by pure chance in New York. She’d been out with a couple of friends, dancing, drinking, enjoying herself, and he’d been looking for information. She’d met his companion first, she remembers, the tall blonde isolated in the corner, dispassionate and lying in wait for him to return having just scared off one of the brave souls that tried to get with her that night. Y/N recalls scowling at the blondes’ aggression, but grudgingly admitting to a small amount of admiration as well when she saw him return, all leather and baby blues and a jaw you could cut diamond on. She’d been transfixed, but didn’t allow it to wallow in her mind for long as she was swept by the mass of dancing people around her and the buzz of alcohol mixed with blood she’d been nursing. They hadn’t talked that night. And he hadn’t seen her.

The following morning she woke up on one of the bars, her hand dangling, a stain of what she thought was tequila on her jeans. She groaned and slowly got up, being a vampire always surprised her with random they pain they experienced was, she could get a sore back from sleeping badly, but no hangover. She could have her head pounding due to daylight, but no problem walking off a hole in her stomach. She was always amused by it, had been since she’d turned in the 1700s. But it kept her on her toes and reminded her of her mortality enough to make things fun. She was checking her phone, to assure herself that her few human friends hadn’t ended up eaten in the flurry of last night when the loud banking of fists on metal echoed through the empty bar. She went to the roof, a small nod to the owner for once more allowing her to pass out here as she went. The endless blue was the first thing she saw, the scowl was the second. The words only ever registered after he’d already left, phone in hand, angry gesturing and words following behind him. The owner of the bar was how she learned the name.

They didn’t meet until some years later, once more by pure chance. She’d been running from her former sire, who she’d bet her life on had been dead for the past 15 years when they literally bumped into each other. She’d almost forgotten who he was, and likely would’ve just run passed and never looked back if he hadn’t pulled her to him, sped them to the nearest building and let the weirdo with a crossbow take down her sire, the weirdo with a crossbow that he was chasing and tried to kill both of them. Almost succeeded too, as he’d been hit several times with a vervain soaked arrow that knocked him out. As she patched him up, and demanded answers in exchange for the huntress, Y/N found out exactly how true the rumours about Mystic Falls were and she was intrigued. She went with him for the next few months, hoping for some break in her usual monotony. She did this every couple of decades, found an adventure to latch onto until she grew bored and returned to her everyday life. She hadn’t expected to fall for him, she certainly hadn’t expected for him to fall for her. And yet that’s exactly what happened, a near death experience ending with him kissing her so thoroughly she actually was left breathless.

But her drive for adventure faded as quickly as it came, as it always did and she returned to her small apartment in New York as their relationship only grew stronger. They didn’t get married since what was a small piece of paper to people that lived centuries, but they may as well have been, after 7 years of essentially living together. It would have been perfect, except he was still imbedded in the fabric that made Mystic Falls the bedrock of supernatural activity it was and he its reluctant protector. She didn’t mind, not at all, except for when he returned home looking just a little bit more broken than before, but that was fine too since she had no problem reminding him what it meant to be whole and how to piece himself together again. And she understood. Mystic Falls was his home, it held his precious people, exactly like how New York held her precious people. But Damon, oh he had doubts. The world kept getting broken for his home town rippling outward and the more supernaturals around the town the higher the stakes. He’d worried before Y/N that he might die in one of the schemes to save the fucking town from the newest bad guy. He’d never worried about her. Or better said he never had to worry about her since she didn’t get involved usually.

And then Cade happened. And Hell. And Y/N couldn’t let him face that alone so she came with. It was the first time she got seriously hurt. So hurt he worried she might die. So hurt Bonnie had had to intervene and help, even despite the fact that Bonnie herself had almost died. And the danger wasn’t even over yet. Damon had felt that kind of fear only once before in his life and that was when Stefan had been taken by the tomb vampires. And even then it hadn’t reached the heights he felt now. He was powerless to help her, all he could do was remain at her side and hope she’d awaken. Bonnie had been hopeful and the rest of their small gang had dealt with the remaining danger, but Y/N didn’t wake for three more days. It was that hell scape, those three long harrowing days that made up his mind. He’d already talked to Bonnie about leaving, but that had been for her benefit, he never expected to ever catch a break from the constant death that Mystic Falls seemed to bring with it. But three days looking at the woman he loved, the woman who for all other intents and purposes could and had outlived him lying pale and unmoving because of him made him rethink how much he cared whether Mystic Falls burned to the ground or not and found that he couldn’t care less if the ground literally opened up and swallowed this cursed town whole if she was safe.

When she woke up, she knew something had changed in Damon, but she hadn’t realized what until he packed all his belonging from his family home and followed her back to her apartment. Not until another crisis befell Mystic Falls and all he did was help with the planning and then lay down next to her. To say she was surprised was an understatement. She’d long since made peace with the fact that she could only have him half of the time, that saving the world was always going to loom behind a corner and he’d chase it while she waited with her heart crumbling for him to return to her alive. But here he was, his clothes in their closet, his car in the garage, his books on the shelves and his life strewn about the apartment, lying with his head in her lap watching a comedy while somewhere in Mystic Falls new saviours fought. He still was tied to the town, still helped save the world, but he was there, with her, while someone else put their life on the line. Slowly, the pieces he’d lost along the way made way for new ones to replace them and they lived. And if adventure wanted to knock on her door every once in a while, well then Damon had a cursed town he called home that she could visit. But not for a while yet. For now she was content with their weekly date night and living their lives. There were still days they barely saw each other, be that because her friends dragged her away or because his did, but the fear that had been there in each other’s absence was gone. 

[callmeunstable]

Angels & Demons - Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Characters: Reader, Godling, Healer

Summary: She finds herself in the middle of a unknown forest after falling asleep. It seems like a normal forest until she gets to meet a mystical creature that welcomes her in a different world.

Warnings: Monsters, Cursing, Blood

Words: 2.000+

A/N: Hey! This is the second part of my The Witcher Fic. I accidentally deleted this part so I had to reupload ot. Yes I cried, but thankfully I still had the draft saved on my laptop.

Disclaimer: GIF’s and PNG’s are taken from Tumblr and are not mine! Credits to the creators!

Tags: @marvelbrat @charliestuff

Song: I couldn’t find the original one sooo

Absently, Alva wondered if most of the monsters were meant to be as beautiful and kind as James, or if this one was an exception to the rule, her mind struggled to hold on to one thought, with a whole new world opening in front of her.

“I know the healer of the village on the other side of the forest. She’s nice. She brings fruits to me from time to time. She will help you.” James hopped in front of her leading the way out of the woods.

She couldn’t believe anything her eyes captured. There are bad creatures. According to the Godling, there are a lot of them. The boy explained to her, that “Drowners” inhabit both natural and artificial bodies of water, from rivers and lakes to mill ponds and city sewers. It is commonly thought that these creatures are drowned men, somehow arisen from the dead to prey on the living. This opinion is as widespread as it is false, for the beasts are another post-Conjunction relict.

She couldn’t believe that this Godling just was a boy but knowing such crucial things about this life. She remembered James talking about the powers he has, that’s how he was able to save her.

“Hey, play some more of your music, please? I love the sound of it and we have to walk some time.” The Godling begged and gave his best puppy face.

She grabbed her phone and she had an idea. Maybe she was able to call or text her dad? Letting him know she’s okay. She wasn’t sure if this was the best idea she ever had, but still better than making him believe she was dead.

No signal. Of course.

“Music, please.”

She pressed the icons on her phone monotonously and a random song started playing.

 “Oh dear, oh dear, I’m sorry

That you grew up so soon

A cold year and no high school parties

I’ve been drinking alone

Oh, I’ve been drinking alone”

 “A blessing to my ears. What's the name of this bard?” The Godling started dancing along while walking in front of the girl.

“What is a bard?” These questions came automatically out of her mouth, wanting to know everything about this world.

Knowledge is power. Even in a world like this. If she knows what she has to be careful about, she can start to protect herself.

“You know the man and women writing songs and these lovely texts of legends, stories of their personal experiences, or their imaginations. I don’t care what they are about. I care about the melodies. I love the tunes.” James seemed to drift off in a state where he was admiring the artists and musicians at this time the whole way out of the woods.

He specifically talked about a Bard called Priscilla. A young woman famous for her poetry.

 “So, don't fear, don’t fear their warnings

They’re bitterer than most

4 years of driving across the country

For empty seats at their shows

And they’ve been drinking alone.”

 Less and fewer trees came along their way and after some more minutes, a village became visible. Still far away but the girl decided to turn off the music which was rewarded with an angry look of the Godling.

“Her cottage isn’t in the village. It's right here!”

He took a sharp turn between some trees and as told, a small cabin was revealed in front of them. It was old. Looked like a typical middle-aged, self-made cottage. Random kinds of stones were piled upon each other, connected by something that seemed to be a kind of cement. A small chimney was built on top and was busy blowing smoke out of it.

“Savilla! I want to show you, my new friend.” The boy shouted and Alva begged it was quiet enough so no one around could hear them. She wasn’t ready to meet anyone in this world, at least for now.

The old wooden door of the cottage opened and a middle-aged woman stepped out of the house. She was beautiful. Her Long black hair was braided down to the small waist of hers. Her long dress was colored with a dark wood green tone. A small V-neck covered her chest mostly and the butterfly sleeves made her look like a princess. A less fancy princess but a gorgeous one.

“Hello, my lovely James. How can I help you today?” Savilla had a warm smile on her face and holding her arms out for e hug.

The Godling happily jumped into her arms, to just leave them a couple of seconds later to point hysterically at Alva.

“This is my friend Alva. She got lost in my forest and a Drowner hit her. I think shes not from hear so she needs your help.”

Savilla laid her eyes on the small girl for the first time. Silently analyzing every single part of her. At this moment Alva realized that she was a unicorn in this world. Her clothes looked completely different from Safillas and James’. She was wearing a red lumberjacket that revealed her sports bra. Some pair of sporty leggings rested on her legs and short sneakers tied on her feet. Her favorite outfit for hiking. At least her fake leather bag seemed to fit the surroundings.

It wasn’t hard to tell that if the person in front of her wasn’t a cosplayer of Lord of the Rings, she had to be stuck in some kind of middle age century.

“Yes, she's not from here. I can tell.” The firm look of the women changed into a friendly smile. “Come in, I think it’s the best if no one sees you like this.”

Both Alva and James entered the cabin. Inside it was beautiful. Flower and herbs were growing every in countless pottery. An out of stone made kitchen area filled the rest of the room with a cozy fireplace at the opposite wall. Different kinds of fabric and papers stuck to the wall. It was filled with colors and smells that made you feel instantly relaxed, at least if you’re a person like Alva.

“You don’t seem to be in a lot of pain.”, stated Safilla while grabbing a wooden chair and placing it in front of her, guiding her to sit down.

“It’s pretty numb right now. It was worse about an hour ago.” Alva tried to give off a normal impression. But what is normal in this world.

er “That what I was inferred already. You seem to be in shock. Your body numbed itself to protect you from the pain.” While investigating the big scratch she explaining typical injuries caused by Drowners.

“You’re lucky that you had James by your side. He’s a loyal soul.” The healer tossed an apple to the boy who caught it happily.

Savilla mixed some unfamiliar herbs and bandaged it up with a clean cloth.

“It should heal fast, it's not a deep cut. You are lucky.”

The women put everything back in place and then grabbed a stool herself.

“Where are you from?”, she asked.

Where was she from actually? Maybe similar countries still exist?

“Originally my family comes from Sweden but I live in the USA at the moment.” The girl explained but ended up not receiving the reaction she wanted.

“I never heard of a place like that. I traveled a lot through Cintra, Temeria, and Lyria. How did you end up here?”

The girl got quiet. She didn’t want to cause any trouble. She was a stranger to this world. How much corruption was she able to cause?

Alva felt a hand on her shoulder. Savilla gently pat her and gave her a motherly smile.

“Look dear, I’m not here to hurt you. I can see you disturbed, even traumatized. You have no idea how you got access to this world, have you?”

The girl started to tear up and found herself in a warm hug of the healer. She couldn’t help herself but at this moment everything that was built up throughout the day suddenly burst out of her.

Every breath felt like acid burning heart throat, inflaming her lungs. Her heart felt like somebody was squeezing out every single emotion trapped in there. Like a sharp blade that is cutting straight through her chest.

“Mark my words, one day will come when you finally realize that fate is inevitable. One day you will get passed all this pain and realize it was a lesson learned for a better future, for a better you. You believe that this was an accident. But in our world, everything happens for a reason.” Savilla didn’t break the contact because she knew that this girl needed it. This wasn’t the first time something like this happened. The same happened decades ago. When the monsters first got into this dimension.

“I can teach you if you let me.”

Alva lifted her head and looked at the healer.

“I can teach you how to survive in this world until we figure it a way how to get you back. You just need to let me help you.”

“How do you know?” The girl was confused, more confused than she was, to begin with. How much does this woman know?

“This is not the first time a portal opened on accident. What we need to figure out is, if this indeed was an accident or if you have a mission you have to fulfill. I will help you. That’s my duty. Let me explain. I’m a mage.”

Savilla explained to Alva that mages are basically what she knows as a witch. Only rare individuals have the potential to become mages and many of those with this potential are doomed to madness. Unless the individual in question - known as a source - learns to control their power quickly, he or she may end up a half-insane, slobbering oracle. That is why schools of sorcery were created, where talented children study for many years, acquiring knowledge and mastering magical skills. Because of their powers, mages age more slowly than ordinary people. Savilla herself attended a school called Aretuza. But she didn’t believe in their morals so she left and lives on her own.

Mages can extract magical energy from the four elements, transport themselves long distances and heal, as well as kill, in the blink of an eye. They have extensive scientific and political knowledge; in the latter respect, many mages are the equals of rulers.

A witch that is connected so some kind of rule book.

“Know you know about me, but for now we need to get you out of your clothes. They reveal your true identity. There are people out there who will view you as dangerous and they’ll get scared. We need to give you a new persona. But for now, let’s start easy. No one will look for you because James took care of that. New clothes will at least give you the appearance of our dimension.”

Savilla walked in a different room and you could her searching sounds. Fabrics got thrown around after her steps came closer again.

As she walked into the room she showed off a dress similar to hers. The dress was white and it had some floral symbols embroidered in the fabric. Her sleeves were also long and wide, almost touching the ground. The White of the dress was mostly protected by a moss green light coat that had a corset on the front. The white dress was strapless but unseen due to the green coat. On top of that Savilla brought her some flat sandals.

“I can give you some pants to wear underneath the dress if you’d like. Is more efficient when you have to move quickly.” The mage was happy she could assist that young girl. She finally had a purpose to assist to.

Alva only nodded along, speechless by the kindness the woman was offering her.

Savilla walked up to her with a hairbrush and put her hair into different styles. “And maybe we can do something with your hair, putting it up or braid-“, she hesitated the moment when she was putting her hair up. “I think it looks fitting already.”

Quickly brushing Alva's hair down again.

[mittensmorgul]

I rewatched 15x07 today and I just couldn't stop seeing how much Eileen was Chuck in 15x7. Her personality, the "ew" when Cas said some part of Sam's soul is in Chuck, her reactions to any talk of Chuck, how she was standing behind Sam and sort of side eying him when Sam said he had been in Chuck's head... Well, even when she propositioned Sam, they were supposed to be looking for ways to *stop* Chuck. Why do you think the show chose to focus on that instead of developing Saileen's relationship?

omg, okay... so you see this exactly the same way I do, and I really wrestled with whether to post this publicly or not, because every time I bring up these extremely valid points, confirmed in canon by Chuck, I get told I’m either a horrible person for thinking this way or I’m delusional or a moron for feeling uncomfortable ignoring this stuff just for the sake of a ship. And I just... can’t ignore it. Because it’s canon.

One of the Big Questions of the entire season is “what is real, and what is Chuck.” Eileen returned ONE EPISODE after we learned the extent of Chuck’s ability to fuck with them directly, via Lilith. The notion that Chuck would just drop that lesson on them and then peace out is just... idiotic to me. We were supposed to see Sam’s statement at the beginning of 15.06, and Dean’s reply, as the huge flashing neon warning sign it was supposed to be:

Sam: No. I haven't had a vision since Colorado. I think maybe they stopped.Dean: Oh, I doubt it. Not until Chuck gets His end game, you know? The Winchester Bowl. Cain and Abel 2.0. This is God we're talking about. G-O-D. Wouldn't be too worried about finding Him. He'll find us. 

LOLOLOLOL I mean, yes? He doesn’t even have to look hard to find you? He knows exactly where you are and how to manipulate you. He’s been doing it basically forever.

and then all of a sudden *random dead character we haven’t seen or even MENTIONED in three years* just suddenly appears specifically needing their help? And we’re supposed to think it’s an unproblematic win all around?

Sure Jan.

Chuck honestly couldn’t have chosen a better lure to send them. Someone the Winchesters would be thrown off by, someone they felt guilt over not having been able to save. Someone they’d be willing to drop everything else to help, and wouldn’t question remaining present in their lives. Someone they would trust without question. And specifically someone who had the kind of connection to Sam that Chuck could exploit to further the divide between Sam and Dean. Exactly as we saw happen... Dean made assumptions about their relationship and retreated even further into his own issues, leaving Sam alone and open to Chuck using Eileen in exactly the way we saw play out in his Vision of the Future in 15.09... driving Sam into her arms only to kill her off in a horrific, tragic situation in order to manipulate Sam into the reckless nihilism that engulfed their world by the end. Sounds exactly like what Chuck failed to accomplish with the whole BMoL plot in s12, which we ALSO know was orchestrated BY HIM, thanks to 14.20. Same story, different turn of the wheel.

Because Chuck needed all of that to get around the effects of that wound and lay down a trap that would eventually be sprung at the end of 15.08. If Cas hadn’t gone poking around in Sam’s wound, compromising Chuck’s plan, theoretically I believe he would’ve continued to use Eileen as his eyes on the Winchesters. The whole “lure Eileen out of the bunker and ensure she brings Sam along for the ride” thing felt more like a scramble to find a faster solution to his bigger problem and eliminate the compromised middle-man in his ability to directly mess with the Winchesters, which brought us to 15.09 and his desperation to force Sam into “breaking the connection” by his own choice. Since it was Sam’s will that fired the not-a-bullet that wounded them both in the first place. He literally had to break Sam’s will that generated that connection in 14.20.

As far as Chuck knew, his plans for Eileen to seduce Sam had failed, repeatedly. Between Cas’s cockblock entrance in 15.07 (which I still struggle to see as Sam ready to accept her proposition, for SO many reasons... I mean just look at his face in the first moments after it registers that she’s propositioning him. Those initial reactions are absolutely not undiluted romantic interest and passion, much as some creatively edited gif sets would lead you to believe.

I appreciate this one, with the further context of 15.09 to support my tag on it from the day after 15.07 aired.

https://mittensmorgul.tumblr.com/post/189512551075

The look Eileen gives Cas is just screaming come on you believe me right? I’m completely innocent in all of this! Just nice little sweet resurrected Eileen! Like Chuck hadn’t expected Cas to show back up and interfere with his Seduce Sam for Manpain plan.

But that seduction scene actually hurts to watch... I mean, Sam is still feeling the guilt and pain over having killed Rowena, only to discover all of her worldly possessions and magic had been entrusted to him (and not yet knowing that specific spell to resurrect Eileen had been planted by Chuck as a deliberate manipulation in itself...).  LOOK AT THIS SERIES OF FACIAL EXPRESSIONS AND EXPLAIN HOW THIS IS ROMANTIC INTEREST AND NOT GRIEF AND SHOCK:

https://canonspngifs.tumblr.com/post/189663948344/adaav-sam-winchester-15x07

Okay, now that’s out of the way, back to Eileen.

Why did they make this particular choice for her character instead of developing a real relationship with Sam and Eileen? Because she was never written with the intent of becoming Sam’s endgame love interest.

Full stop.

Anyone who says otherwise is either choosing to believe that because it props up their chosen ship or they’re unaware of the numerous times that Robbie Thompson has contradicted that statement.

I mean, I don’t usually quote this source, but this is Robbie Thompson speaking recently (within the last year) specifically about the creation of Eileen’s character:

Next up: Eileen and Shoshannah. Did they specifically want a woman hunter?

Robbie: No, it was just, they were looking for standalone episodes. So what will happen is the showrunners will come around and say, “Hey, we need a myth-arc episode. Please deliver X, Y, and Z, but build an episode around it. Or [do] a standalone.” I had this idea for this character and I had worked with Shoshannah, sort of tangentially, because I was the writer’s assistant and I wrote an episode of Jericho. She wasn’t in the episode that I wrote but she played Bonnie on that show and (this is a spoiler if you haven’t seen Jericho) her character has an untimely death. But Shoshannah was so good in the series, and she was so terrific in that episode. She’s a badass in that episode, with a whole infiltration thing and she’s blowing dudes away with a shotgun, and I was like, “Oh, I wanna see her kick some ass.” I always wanted to work with her again. So I pitched the episode with that character in mind, and then I was like, “I’d love to work with Shoshannah again.” They reached out and she fortunately had a window in her schedule; she was available.

Then I reached out, I think originally through her manager, to say, “Hey, can you put us in touch because I’m not deaf and I want to make sure I’m getting an authentic experience for the performer.” So she and I exchanged a bunch of emails. She’s since gone on to be a showrunner and a writer in her own regard. She’s a really, really brilliant writer and a brilliant actor as well. It was great being able to get her the script early so she could help me fix the parts that didn’t work. Then, on the day, she and Jared had really great chemistry and John Badham, who was the director of that episode ("Into the Mystic" 11.11), they really played around and found a lot of fun moments that weren’t scripted at all. That was just them having fun and building moments.

All those cute chemistry moments... were never even scripted. She was intended to be a one-off character that was unsurprisingly very well loved by fandom, and who was brought back when the overarching plot made her MoL connection relevant to the story in 12.17. Unfortunately for her, that meant her ONLY purpose for returning to the story was literally to be killed for Sam’s manpain. They gave her just enough cute chemistry with Sam to imply they had the potential for a romantic connection, and then killed her in one of the most brutal and horrific ways possible. Which was literally exactly what Chuck used her for in s15.

I’d like to suggest that, knowing the full truth of her entire situation, that the sinister parallel being suggested in 15.07 is not between Cas and Eileen, but between Eileen and Lee Webb. Sam’s history with her is similarly tragic to Dean’s history with Lee. And Lee represented a version of an apple pie life that tempted Dean-- the prospect of having food, fun, health, and happiness instead of the grind of hunting. Only it was a lie, because Lee hadn’t made that life for himself, he’d built it off the magic of a creature he sacrificed an endless stream of human lives to in order to falsely manipulate his own circumstances. The cake is a lie, in other words. Just like the cheerful hangover breakfast Sam and Eileen were preparing at the beginning of the episode. It just... wasn’t real. We were being urged to consider this parallel. And not seeing it for what it was required having some heavy duty ship goggles glued on.

This was doubled-down on in 15.08, with Sam being a bit overbearing and nearly getting himself killed in the opening hunt, pushing Eileen to their “agreement,” which additionally foiled Chuck’s plans to push them together romantically. Eileen couldn’t spy on Sam for Chuck if she still retained enough independence to set boundaries like that, you know? If she didn’t have eyes on the Winchesters, she wasn’t useful for what Chuck was using her for, and she was punished for that failure as much as Sam was, being forced to hurt Sam in 15.09.

Heck. This is how I’ve always seen all of this. If folks enjoy assuming some Grand Romance between Sam and Eileen, more power to them. But honestly I just can’t personally see the justification in canon for that read on things. Not to say that Sam and Eileen won’t choose to come to a different understanding in the future, or that their relationship couldn’t develop into something more once Chuck has been dealt with, but I can’t see it as romantic yet. I’d be totally down to ship them in that eventuality. And in fanon, I’m totally here for it even now.

[shuttershocky]

Doctor Roman awoke in the comfort of his office chair, with Da Vinci’s fingers gently drumming the top of his head. A little smile tugged on the corners of his lips. This was nice. Yes, it was good to relax sometimes. He didn’t get a lot of time to rest when he was at work. Like now.

Wait.

“GAH! I’m awake!” 

Roman jolted out of his chair, his eyes rapidly scanning all four corners of the dimly lit Command Room. The monitors had been shut off, and no sounds came over the speakers.

“Good evening Romani,” Da Vinci said, not looking up from her notebook. “I was hoping you would sleep just a little longer. You’ve been working for days on end now. That can’t be healthy. You’re no heroic spirit you know?”

“What did... How did... How did I even fall asleep?” Romani eyed his coffee mug. “Did you... Did you spike my drink? Not cool Leonardo! We can’t be fooling around with humanity at stake!”

“I did no such thing,” Da Vinci replied, still scribbling away. “I just gave you decaf, and you passed out before you even touched your mug. Besides, you said it yourself, today’s was a simple, low-threat mission without any risk of failure whatsoever. We can afford to be relaxed.”

“We have to remain constantly vigilant, “ Romani said. “A threat could come from anywhere at any time while Gudako is out there. Now please turn the feed back on.”

Da Vinci rolled her eyes but obeyed anyway, lazily tapping at a few buttons and turning all systems back on.

Roman’s jaw dropped. 

It was a warzone. On the monitors were the crumbling ruins of some European city, the rooftops and streets swarming with soldiers of a uniform both very familiar, and yet not quite. They wore black, metallic armor, and many had blood-red capes draping from their shoulders. They wielded strange weapons, rifles that appeared to shoot bolts of dark energy, which they rained down into the city below, and others held large blades that carved the pavement beneath them as they walked. Overhead, the sun lay edge to edge with the moon. A solar eclipse was about to take place.

Also onscreen was a certain teenage girl, who looked rather peppy for being in such an apocalyptic landscape. She looked right at Da Vinci and Doctor Roman, flashing them a wide smile.

“Hey guys!”

“What... How...” Roman said

“Hey kiddo,” Da Vinci said, completely unperturbed. “Give me a sitrep.”

Gudako clapped her hands.

“Okay, so I’m pretty sure these guys aren’t human. I mean, we thought they were human, but when Mash knocked one legionnaire out and ripped off his mask, these glowing black tentacles just burst out of his mouth like ‘BLAAAAHHH’ and Mash and I were like ‘AAAAAHHHH’ and then Geronimo was all ‘RAAAAAAAAAAAAA’ and he stabbed it repeatedly in the face until it died.”

“Really now?” Da Vinci said.

“No, Geronimo was actually like ‘Stand back, Master!’ and then he stabbed it repeatedly in the face but it didn’t seem fair that he got to keep his cool.”

“Wh-wh-wh-wha” Roman stuttered.

“Anyway,” Gudako continued. “We made contact with the resistance movement and are now in the middle of launching an attack on the head honcho’s palace. Ozy’s giving them hell from the sky, but we can’t move in until Hundred Faces says she’s secured the prison camps all across the city. The bastard inside’s been incarcerating random citizens and using them as mana batteries for his big evil ritual thingy and I’ve got a feeling that whatever it is is invincible so long as it stays inside. Current plan: We rescue the citizens, take away its power source, lure it out, then take it down along with its stormtroopers.”

If Roman had any coherent thoughts upon first seeing Gudako, they were all gone now.

“How are your forces?” Da Vinci asked. “Do you believe they can keep up this assault until the prisoners are rescued?”

“Yeah we’re doing fine! I think Billy’s already killed like, 50 of these Demon-Nazis.”

BLAM

A loud gunshot echoed over the monitor. A sword legionnaire who had been steadily making its way over to Gudako suddenly lost its head, wobbling a little before collapsing backwards.

“If I may correct you Ma’am,” Billy said on the sidelines, pumping a shotgun. “51.”

“51,” The master confirmed. “Oh, oh, you’ll want to hear this it’s gonna be great. I had King Hassan lead the resistance into the propaganda towers. We should be hearing their broadcast in 3... 2...”

Beep

“Cursed Arm,” rumbled the voice of the Old Man of the Mountain over hundreds of loudspeakers on every building. “How dost one tell if the device is active?”

“Er, Great Founder,” Cursed Arm whispered, failing to keep his voice from being picked up by the mic. “You are already on.”

“Oh? A-Ahem. Greetings O’ oppressed and noble souls. Liberation has come in these darkest of hours, and the reckoning of thy enemies is nigh. Arise! Arise! Thou must take up arms and throw off thy shackles! Make your way to every corner of thy city, and purge thy home of the evil that festers within! Hold the love of thy kin deep in your soul, and know thy blade fights on the side of the righteous. And if thou shalt fall saving their home on this most exalted day, I shall deliver thee through the places of death, and into the gates of paradise!

Was that adequate, Cursed Arm?”

“Ohhhhh Great founder!”

Beep

“Pretty cool huh?” Gudako said to the Command Room, a wide grin on her face.

“I-I-I-I-”

“Fantastic work there Gudako, but what will the signal from Hundred Faces look like?”

“Ooh I think that’s it!”

Gudako pointed to a dazzling blue flare soaring high above the fog of war and into the sky. It exploded when it reached the top of its arc, projecting the image of... Of...

It was a hand. Doing the “OK” sign. 

“That’s it! That’s the signal!” Gudako yelled, leaving her hiding place and sprinting through enemy fire. “Everyone who’s not a servant, fall back! Fall back! The big guy’s gonna come out any second no-”

BOOM

Something struck the ground right next to the girl, ripping through anything in its path and covering the screen with debris.

“GUDAKO!” Roman screamed. Even Da Vinci flinched in her seat.

“I’m okay! I’m okay!” The teenager called, waving her arms to clear the smoke. “I had Mash’s Wall of Chalk on me! Anyway, it looks like the boss has arrived.”

In the center of the battlefield stood a red hooded figure, levitating a foot off the ground. Rusted chains encircled his arms, and strange runes Roman had never seen before were etched all over his limbs and face. He had no eyes, the sockets bleeding a dark, oily fluid, and his hands continued to tear up everything in range with black lightning.

“You!” It pointed a shriveled finger at the girl. “You insignificant, wretched, pompous little insect! No one can stop the birth of the Black Sun! My rule is inevitable, and my reign shall see the end of time!”

“Yeah well point me to the bathroom because I’m about to be a real big party-pooper.” Gudako hollered back.

“Fall where you stand child!” it roared, charging her with a sword in hand.

“Gudako, look out!” Roman shouted.

“Don’t forget to test out my mystic code sweetie, “ Da Vinci said. “Took me a whole week to make them.”

“Oh right!” Gudako said, pulling out a pair of metal fists from out of nowhere. They restructured themselves as she put them on, fitting snugly into her smaller hands. 

CLANG

Gudako lunged forward to block the hooded figure’s sword with her right gauntlet. The black energy was repelled by the light blue hum over her arms, as a white light swirled around her left fist. The boss’ eyesockets seemed to widen. It knew what was coming, but was too late to stop it.

“Shoryuken!” The girl yelled, slamming the boss’ face with a fiery uppercut. It was sent flying, slamming through a building which then collapsed on top of it.

She looked back at the communicator, clumsily taking it off and gently setting it down on a nearby wall.

“This can get a bit gruesome. I’ll call you later after I kick its ass. Love you both! Bye!”

Gudako ran towards where the terrifying unknown mage had fallen.

“So you wanna play rough?” She shouted to the shifting rubble. She slammed both gauntlets together, sending an arc of blue lightning between them. “Let’s play rough.”

Both visual and audio feed died at that instant, Da Vinci having shut them off.

Roman’s jaws on the other hand, had not shut the entire time.

“See?” Da Vinci cooed, tapping a pen on her glasses. “All under control.”

Roman turned to her slowly.

“THEY WERE SUPPOSED TO HAVE GONE GROCERY SHOPPING!”

[playingwithfire0-blog]

The crack of dawn had risen, along with the awakening immortal leaning up from bed to rub his eyes before viewing over where his diary was placed. Once reaching out towards the bedside to grab his Journal alongside the clicker, a personal record of your own daily actions, experiences, and observations, with reflections and random thoughts thrown in for good measure. Finding himself writing along the lines, his vision scanned the words as he wrote “I lost control today, Everything I've kept buried inside came rushing to the surface, They follow you. You can't escape them - as much as you want to.” His thoughts were placed as he lined up the pen towards his lip to think of ways he could express himself, until then he continued to write. “I had a plan. I wanted to change who I was, create a life as someone new, someone without the past, someone alive.” Clicking the pen back Into it’s original position as well as the journal away from Damon’s interfering view, the nosy individual as he was. Removing himself from the mattress and into the bathroom to freshen up for another eventful day, with the incredible sense of hearing he found himself heading back into the room with Bonnie awaiting for his accompany.

Seeing her stood there, the expression was evident. This witch was very pissed; aggravated and ready to do something crafty. Who knew what spell she had ready for him; that glimmer of evil held in those dark eyes and that posture; disappointment was clear to see. There was a reason why she was furious, Enzo was the problem yet she continuously had his back like he was the angel. “Bon..” eventually speaking until she interrupted, observing as her hands started to raise. “This is only until you learn your lesson.” without giving him a chance to speak or even try to explain himself, she went ahead and did the magic touch by putting him to sleep. She understood he wouldn’t be out for long but in the meantime she wanted to enjoy the time she had with Enzo, in peace without both males causing chaos on trying to kill each other like children.

Images hovered inside the immortal’s mind, even if he wanted to awaken he just couldn’t. Putting him to sleep wasn’t the only thing Bonnie took part of, what he saw was what she wanted him to see - making it look more real from his own mind. Finding himself opening his eyes with confusion, every single thing was different. First he was in the bedroom and now here?

The world was dead, bodies scattered everywhere while walkers covered the whole nation, taking over the town of Mystic Falls. Humanity’s worst nightmare had just just began, experiencing something so distressing yet so terrifying, the whole of humanity running different directions screaming for the help they deserve. Friends gone their separate ways to protect their own families, will they ever see them on their travels? there’s always hope.

Experiencing the hungry outsiders ripping that poor individuals insides, blood and guts splattered until there was nothing left to take, there was no hope he was all ready gone. Until then walkers chased on their next victim, Stefan began running from the terror that was happening, observing every safe spot he could find was hard enough with walkers around him, every direction he turned there was always one, two or even more. Becoming traumatised - was this the walking dead? No, it couldn’t be real? This wasn’t real.. there was no such thing. Surviving was the only way possible for this cruel world until he felt himself getting grabbed, his eyes widened with fear as he watched the blood pour from the walkers diseased mouth.

There was no such thing as himself, as a vampire he understood he would never survive this, this is where he knows he’s going to die but now? He had to fight them off, especially this one who seemed to fight harder just to receive some blood but Stefan managed to escape the grip with the help of a stranger who shot him in the head making him fall to the ground. Bonnie made his mind to think he’d been surviving for weeks, assuring him this was not a dream - this was a terrifying nightmare. There was no time to thank the individual who saved his life, every position he walked there was always groups of walkers heading directly towards him - blood stains splattered around their ripped grimy clothes, the spitty hiss they make as their decayed teeth, yellowed and full of pulpy bits of bloody flesh, snap as they try to bite you.

Wandering through the hushed forest, the mess was unbelievable, walkers scattered in places where individuals took action. The rush of wind rushing through the branches, feeling the coldness hit against his skin, his eyes looked up to notice the darkness closing in. This was not a safe environment to be in, the question was.. was he still a vampire? What will happen if he gets bitten? Was this the last time he sees his big brother? Every question was terrifying to know. Was there a way he could get through to Bonnie, a magic spell even? Anything.. maybe her dreams, but how? Travelling off the forest and into a field to find a abandoned hospital - with relief to feel safe for the night or two. The one thing stopping him from running towards those gates were a group of walkers trying to pull down the fences with their grimy blood stained hands until one turned to notice, hungry for more.

Discovering a dead human with their flesh pulled from their own skin, blood stained the grass from that poor soul’s body. A weapon was placed beside the figure, a bat was better than having nothing - he took what he could get, until then he took a chance to fight them off by swinging the weapon against their mucky heads making them fall into another direction, one by one with their repulsive bodies falling to the ground. Entering the hospital premises, windows cracked and four worded letters written on the ground, the enormous word HELP was enough for the living to rescue them. Unaware to find the living dead making its way from behind, the target of Stefan as they snuck close - Luckily a individual from inside the building took a shot right in the head, right behind Stefan which made him to think they were aiming for him.

Turning around to notice the dead, shattered bones and the stench was something horrific. His eyes found to search for the interaction who saved his life, finding nothing but the unsanitary building but it never stopped him from going inside for safety. The hallway lights flickered, damaged doors were knocked off its edges and the floor with pools of blood, fresh and stained against the dusty walls with pictures hanging off- bodies were spread over the areas as he walked by. Wondering until hearing voices ahead, the room where they were placed - a sigh with relief to find human interaction was something every survivor wanted to see, no more walking alone. The attention turned to him, they had a plan which you will know soon enough but for now, they welcomed him.

Few hours later, whispers filled the whole room - some looked over of the direction of Stefan, the incredible hearing he once had was no more. Feeling unwanted within the group as they continue to plan against him, they weren’t the people as he thought they were. “We are planning an escape.” One explained, feeding him with lies but to them he was bait. “All of you, grab a weapon.. we need to leave.” the other announced which Stefan followed, about to take a weapon until he was given one. Odd? Inside there was nothing, no amour which was planned but Stefan thought nothing of it. Following the group down the hallway and stopped beside a door. “There’s something we need but the only thing stopping us is this” the ringleader spoke as he opened the door for Stefan to view.

The sound of hungry terrors craved for another feeding, once he tilted his head for more of a perspective sight he felt himself being pushed, falling to the ground of bait for the dead to feed on like he was nothing. The door slammed shut with the sound of locks bolting shut, running to the door with his fist banging. “Open the door!” the sound of his panic voice screaming for help. “HELP!” he pleaded, his hands pulled the door handle trying to push and shove for it to open. The walking dead were close, pulling out his unloaded gun to fire until noticing he had no armour, no bullets to shoot as the gun clicked and clicked with each trigger finger. His head leaned against the doorframe his eyes squeezed shut, this was the last of humanity - What a way to die.

Hands grip against flesh; the surge of pain was excruciating as they began to pull at his lips; this was it. Stefan Salvatore, was doomed for. Falling to the floor, losing his balance completely he watched as they came over him - like a mouse trap, he was trapped, unable to move, unable to shift. Caught and they had him. Pulling, twisting. As much as he desired to let out a scream, he was unable to bring his body to - the last vision he had before his eyes wandered into a dark place, his body stopped fighting to the point his body, was lifeless.

The wicked things a spell could do; and within an instance his felt oxygen filling into his lungs, breath pushing through as his body bolted upright, panting. With sweat beading down his face, he looked around, was this real? had it all been a dream? Switching his full attention from the room and onto the witch sitting there with the worlds biggest smirk, who knew Bonnie had it in her to do such a terrifying thing? Historical to her but a nightmare for him. He had assurance of learning his lesson, he would never come across a pissed off Bonnie ever again.

[frizz22]

Converts

Moonshine Madam prompt: it's not actually such a well-kept secret that the Spellman’s are Satanists, perhaps a confrontation with some Church members in Greendale? Nothing to serious, just something lighthearted?

Thanks for the prompt! Read on ao3

They were relaxing in the parlor; it was the first Sunday all month they didn’t have a funeral service and Zelda had just flipped a record over before settling down to continue working on a puzzle with Hilda. Of course, their quiet afternoon was interrupted moments later, Ambrose barreling in.

“They’re back!” He grinned, eyes alight with mischief.

Hilda looked up at him, brow furrowed. “Who, love?”

Barely able to contain himself, Ambrose clapped his hands and rubbed them together. “The oh so righteous parishioners of Greendale’s Evangelical Church. Come to help us sinners see the error in our ways.” 

Zelda sat up, excited. “Really?”

“Just set off the perimeter wards. We have ten minutes at best.” He looked between them hopefully.

A wide smile spread across Zelda’s face. “Marvelous, it’s been ages since they’ve come around.” She was already standing up, waving a hand to put the puzzle away. “Places everyone.” Zelda instructed with malicious glee as she turned to transform the parlor from its everyday appearance.

Whooping in delight, Ambrose hurried off to the basement.

Hilda giggled and went to the chest pushed against the wall next to the fireplace and began pulling out various items. “They must have new blood, someone who thinks they can ‘get through to us poor lost souls’ at last.” She bit her lip to try and contain her excitement as she set a deck of tarot cards and a set of small animal bones with runes carved into them on the coffee table.

Humming in agreement, Zelda focused on her spell which was redecorating the room. Several upside down crosses adorned the walls, a pentagram appeared on the floor in uneven, red paint, Hilda’s spiders crawled along the ceiling weaving intricate webs, a Satanic bible popped up on one of the side tables and the final touch… an elaborate painting of Lucifer Morningstar with fresh wounds on his back materialized over the fireplace.

Giving her work an appraising look, Zelda faced her sister. “Yes, ‘us poor lost souls’. So prone to lust and greed and dark things.” She intoned dramatically. “And yet, I bet you I can make at least three of them think about having their way with me before they leave.” Cocking a brow, she snipped her fingers to change out of her regular clothes and into one of her racier nightgowns and robe; relishing in how horrified the parishioners would be at their spike of unclean lust for a Satanist.

An indelicate snort escaped her sister as she set out some tea and cookies. “Oh, that’s too easy. All of them will think that, if even for a moment. Mortals, despite all their supposed superiority, are no better than us; they just restrain and repress themselves.” Shaking her head at the notion, Hilda picked up her deck of cards and started to shuffle them. “Now, what I intend to do is more difficult, requires a bit more magic. I’m going to scare the Beelzebub out of them,” she grinned, flicking her wrist to turn her clothes into something more mystical.

Eyebrows raised in appreciation, Zelda turned to the mirror hanging on the wall to touch up her appearance. “The seer bit? You haven’t done that in some time. It will certainly have them sweating through those awful polyester Sunday suits.” She remarked, darkening her lipstick, mussing her hair and creating a prominent love-bite on her neck for good measure.

Her sister had an uncanny ability to read people; their motives, how their pasts played into their current and future actions. Hilda didn’t use it often, claimed the sensation could be overwhelming if not carefully controlled. But in times like this, well, what was the point of the ability if not to have some fun with it? And Hilda truly did make the most of it, coming off as intimidating and creepy with a sickly sweet sugarcoating.

“You’ll help sell it, right?” Hilda asked, tucking her hair into a scarf and putting her glasses on.

Happy with her debauched appearance, Zelda moved away from the mirror and towards the front door—their guests would be arriving any moment. “Of course, sister. It’s always amusing to watch them squirm under your scrutiny.” She winked and conjured a cigarette before gripping the front door handle and waiting, just a beat before pulling it open just as one of the parishioners raised their hand to knock. “Just leave out the back, Ellen,” Zelda called out to imaginary figure behind her. “And feel free to tell your husband about that little tongue trick. He’ll enjoy the result as much as I did.” Turning her head to the little group in front of her, Zelda eyed each buttoned up little false god peddler with a raised brow. “Ah, yes, right on time.” Taking a long draw of nicotine and blowing it at them, Zelda stepped aside. “Do come in.”

As expected, most of the group struggled to tear their eyes away from her, gazes lingering on her neck and chest—though Hilda was right in that it was almost too easy, Zelda still enjoyed the effect she had over the mortals, how she made them question themselves; even for a moment.

One woman among them was made of sturdier stuff, though, and pushed past her ogling entourage and walked inside. Her movement broke the trance the others were in and they shuffled behind her awkwardly, not making eye contact out of shame. When they all passed the threshold, the lights flickered, courtesy of Ambrose, and Zelda smothered a smile at how several of them jumped.

Clearing her throat, one woman spoke up, look at Zelda uncertainly. “Right on time, you said…” She murmured, warily taking in her surroundings.

A wide smile spread across Zelda’s lips and she ushered them deeper into the house. “Oh, my sister foresaw your arrival. She made tea and cookies for you,” she noted, taking her time leading the way to the parlor; wanting to play with them a little more before turning it over to Hilda. Zelda paused next to the parlor door, “could Father Michaels not make it?” She asked innocently, finger tracing the plunging neckline of her nightgown.

The priest at the church had come at least once a month for some time when he first assumed his position. Convinced he was doing the false god’s work and not only bringing the Spellman’s over to the light side, but also ridding Greendale of Satanists at the same time.

It’d been fun, at first, coming up with new and creative ways to torment the man. But the novelty soon wore off and they had things to do, a business to run without a bothersome mortal priest popping in at random times.  

So, to discourage him from returning, Zelda sent him several dreams in which he was engaged in a series of passionate activities with not only her, but Hilda and Ambrose as well. Ever since then, the man avoided them like the plague and grew incredibly flustered at the mere mention of the Spellman family—or so Zelda was told.

The act bought them almost half a year of peace before a group of brave parishioners, minus Father Michaels, appeared on their doorstep. Having taken it upon themselves to purge the devil and his worshippers from their midst. From then on, the visits of the good parishioners of Greendale’s Evangelical Church were sporadic, unpredictable. But it quickly became part of the game, seeing what they could come up with on the fly.

One of the men coughed and nervously tugged at the knot of his tie. “He, uh,” the man faltered, his eyes drifting down to Zelda’s chest before he wrenched them away with some difficulty. “He couldn’t make it today. Other matters to attend to.” He informed her gruffly, the tips of his ears burning red. And Zelda could tell the man was realizing one of the reasons why the priest avoided the Spellman house.

Humming in feigned displeasure, Zelda pushed the parlor door open and walked inside. “Have a seat,” she purred, eyeing each of the false god’s puppets salaciously as they filtered past her and into the next trap.

Undeterred, though mildly ruffled, their leader marched past her and into the parlor only to waver when she took in her surroundings. The rest of the group was quick to wilt as well as they uncomfortably took their seats on the couch across from Hilda; who was shuffling her tarot cards and smiling warmly at them… as if a ram’s skull was leering at them from the wall behind her.

“So kind of you to join us on this unholy day,” Hilda greeted a little breathily.

The comment had the leader looking scandalized. “Join you?” She demanded, “we’re here to—”

Holding up a hand, Hilda silenced her. “Mary Beth, I know why you’re here. You wish to try and save us. But we don’t need saving.” She smiled blithely at the woman.

Before Mary Beth could respond, a loud animalistic screech sounded from the basement, causing their guests to jump. Zelda hid a laugh; Ambrose was really playing it up this time.

Clearly shaken, Mary Beth collected herself. “How, how do you know my name?” She asked, face pale and eyes flicking to the ground where the sound originated and where muffled growls were still emanating.

Perching herself in the chair next to Hilda, Zelda crossed her legs regally and settled in for the show. Hilda would start by naming them all before introductions were made, sometimes listing little details about the guests or their pasts to unnerve them further. While she watched this all unfold, Zelda traced the fake bite mark on her neck, her gaze lingering on each parishioner in turn. Between her sister’s hauntingly accurate readings and Zelda’s own unabashed display of sexuality and sexual interest, they soon had the entire group visibly squirming.

There was one woman, though, Evelyn, who kept peeking at Zelda and blushing every time they made eye contact. Gifting the woman with a sinful smile, Zelda couldn’t help but think she might be able to play with this one later. When Evelyn smiled in return, Zelda’s hopes and eyebrows rose.  

It wasn’t until Mary Beth noticed their prolonged eye contact that she pinched Evelyn and the woman dropped her eyes…. Moments later, though, Zelda found the woman’s eyes back on her. Oh, she almost regretted what they were about to do next, for it would surely scare Evelyn away and ruin Zelda’s chances at bedding her; and she would have loved to corrupt the mortal—especially one with the name like Eve.

Before she could think of how to signal Ambrose to wait, her nephew came bursting into the parlor, the basement door still hanging open behind him and unsettling sounds echoing up the stairs. Compared to Ambrose, though, the noises were the least of their guests’ concern. Arms covered in blood up to the elbow and holding up fake intestines, Ambrose came to a stop in front of them; seemingly oblivious to the parishioner.

“Aunties, the signs don’t look—, oh! I didn’t realize we had company.” He smiled graciously at the group, and up close Zelda could make out flecks of blood along his chest and face as well. “I’m sorry, I’ll just double check the results using a rabbit. You know how unreliable weasels can be,” he grinned and shook his head in amusement. “But, I will leave these—” Ambrose laid the intestines on the coffee table next to the tray of tea and cookies with exaggerated care, “here for your consultation.”   Nodding politely at everyone, Ambrose took his leave and made for the basement once more, snapping the door shut behind him.

Understandably, the color drained from each of the parishioners’ faces and they made their hasty departures soon after, not even cracking out the false god’s bible before they turned tail. As they retreated across the lawn, Hilda and Zelda bade them goodbye from the porch, waving and loudly thanking Satan for the visit. Evelyn was the only one to turn back, a small, if somewhat perplexed, smile on her face as her eyes flicked up and down Zelda once more before shifting to follow the others.

Once the group all but ran around the curve in the road, Hilda couldn’t contain her mirth any longer and snorted; and though she fought it, Zelda guffawed as well, clutching her side as they made their way back into the house where Ambrose was eagerly waiting for them.

They lounged in the parlor, consuming the tea and cookies their would-be saviors hadn’t touched and gleefully reliving the events of the past thirty minutes. It was here that Sabrina found them, having just gotten home from a study session with Roz and Susie.

“So, I just passed a group of horrified looking people on my way home….” She began, blinking when they all broke into fresh bouts of laughter. Warily, Sabrina set her bag down and took note in her surroundings. “What, what is all of this? What happened?” She demanded, gesturing to the decorations, the fake intestines still on the table and their attire.

Wiping the corner of her eyes, Hilda managed to catch her breath first to answer. “Oh, lamb, you missed it. And it would have been the first one you could participate in…” She frowned a little in disappointment, but her eyes were still twinkling with amusement.

Zelda lit a cigarette, inhaled deeply and released the smoke with a content sigh. “We just had a lovely visit from the parishioners of Greendale’s Evangelical Church.” They all chuckled again, unable to help themselves, as they settled more comfortably in their seats.

Casting them a dubious look, Sabrina took a seat on the edge of one of the chairs. “I don’t think they felt the same.” She informed them, admonishment coloring her tone.

“Oh coz, don’t go getting all righteous on us. They’re the ones who felt compelled to interrupt our Sunday with their false god drivel.” Ambrose remarked, sprawled sideways in his chair, legs hanging over the armrest.

When Sabrina looked ready to argue, Zelda knocked some of the ash of her cigarette and talked before her niece could. “Besides, we can’t have them dropping by any time they please. They might actually witness something of substance. This is just our way of… discouraging their visits.” She justified with a slight shrug.

“And it’s fun.” Hilda giggled, taking another cookie.

Arching a brow, Zelda smirked. “And that.”

“Especially for you, Aunt Zee. Evelyn couldn’t keep her eyes off you.” Ambrose grinned wickedly, “going to seduce another mortal away from the false god?”

She brushed her hair back and took another drag of nicotine. “One can only hope,” she murmured, a mischievous glint in her eye. “The most devout ones are often the most fun in bed; they’ve been suppressing their desires for so long it all just comes bursting out.”

Scandalized, Sabrina’s mouth dropped open. “Auntie! You can’t mess with someone’s feelings—”

Rolling her eyes, Zelda stubbed her cigarette out. “Sex doesn’t always involve ‘feelings’, Sabrina. It’s usually about carnal pleasure, and if Evelyn wants me to provide that… who I am to object?” She inclined her head at her niece and continued. “In any case, if they are intent on ‘saving us’, it’s only fair I try and do the same for them. Though, I must say my way is much more gratifying.” Zelda leaned forward and selected a cookie from the tray.

Ever the peace-maker, Hilda patted Sabrina’s knee. “They did bring this upon themselves by trying to come and convert us, love. And don’t be upset with your auntie,” she flashed a look Zelda’s way which she dutifully ignored. “She only… woos the ones who are willing.”

Ambrose snorted, “woos, yeah that’s what she does. That’s what her nightgown, makeup and bite mark scream… wooing.” He wiggled his eyebrows and Zelda swatted at him good-naturedly.

Of course, Sabrina couldn’t see the innocence and fun in their actions that afternoon. “It’s really not nice to mess with them. They’re just—” She began, shaking her head and tone disapproving.

Groaning loudly, Ambrose went limp in his seat, practically sliding out of it in his dramatics. “Get off your high horse, coz.” Zelda snickered and the corner of her mouth curled up into a smile at her nephew’s antics. Sabrina was less than amused.

Smiling gently, Hilda handed their niece some tea. “It’s all in good fun, darling. No one gets hurt and we keep our reputation in town.”

Suspiciously taking the cup, Sabrina eyed them. “What reputation?”

Chuckling, Zelda leaned back in her seat and clasped her hands in front of her. “That Spellmans aren’t to be trifled with, of course.” She quirked a brow as Hilda and Ambrose hummed their agreement before going back to recounting their afternoon.

[for-peace-war]

[1]: Strokes.

Just a little, random story I wrote quickly to see if I could.  It’s not really “set in reality” and could take place anywhere, but... I just wanted to try working with dialogue and a silent observer.  It’s a little light on excessive detail, yet details some things more aggressively than I normally would.  If all goes well, I want to do a few stories like this.

On a river boat, two women sat two seats away from each other.  Further up the river there would be more traffic, the pilot knew, but they had some distance to go.  The two women were extremely different, but they were also very similar.  He had not spoken to either of them, for to do such was punishable by death in any kingdom where civilized men sat on their thrones.

The first woman was old and her skin was very shriveled. She wore a purple robe with a white veil over her eyes.  Her back was stooped and a few gray hairs stuck out from her cowl.  It was a hot day, so sweat poured down her face.  The pilot hoped a breeze would accompany them down the river, but the brown water was still save for his oars paddling through it.

The other woman was very young and pretty. She wore a pink robe with yellow trimming and a silken veil over her mouth.  She had very bright eyes that were slightly tilted.  Her makeup made the corners of her eyes darker and sharper.  She smelled of honey when she entered the boat and did not seem to be capable of sweating unlike the old woman.

The only sounds on the journey thus far was the chirping of insects, the strokes of his paddle against the water, and the pretty woman’s humming which sounded like rain drops falling over silken sheets.  Then the young woman turned to the old one and spoke.

“You look like a raisin, did you know that?” She asked. The old woman nodded. “I did know that.” “I look like a peach,” the pretty woman said. “But you are more like a grape.”

The pilot smiled.  It was true: the old woman was a sama, which meant old mystic – and the young woman was an olaa, which meant young pleasure.  Sama were ascetics of great renown, who lived off the charity of others and performed small miracles whenever they happened upon a deserving soul.  When he was a boy the pilot’s brother had a crooked back.  A sama touched it and in two weeks, it was healed. Oola by contrast were known for their intoxicating beauty and lavish lives, each trained in the special arts of love, lust, and longing from an early age.  In the capital city, they could be seen milling about with common people, walking through them silently and untouched, but still engaging in a way that few could compare to.  He had never heard one speak before this one – her voice was as lovely as her figure.

Legend held that when the olaa grew too old to serve as pleasure consorts for emperors and great lords, they became sama.  It also said that olaa only came from sama and their royal lovers, themselves, so that they were all related.  The pretty woman was insulting her aunt or grandmother, perhaps – maybe even her mother.  

She did not seem to care. “Grapes are small, but I am not.”

The pilot agreed. She was not small.  Her robes fit her too tautly to be small, for her breasts were large and full and her hips were wide.  Her large ears, which stuck out from the traditional bun she wore, were lined in many jewels that swayed even in the still wind. Overhead the sweltering sun was blocked by the boat’s canopy, but her eyes were bright enough to light any darkness.

“Peaches do not turn into raisins,” the old woman said. “Do you know what they turn into?” “No.” “No one does, because they never grow old. Haha, do you hear that, old mother? They never grow old.”  She laughed.  It was a very loud laugh. “You have a loud laugh,” the Sama said.  “You were told it is pretty.” “It is pretty,” the Olaa replied. The old woman nodded. “It is.”

The pilot agreed.  It was pretty.  He thought of her voice awakening him from a long night’s sleep.  The crotch of his pants grew tighter. He rowed steadily on.

“How did you know I was an Oola?  Everyone knows that you cannot see.”  To prove her point she reached over.  The pilot quickly looked away, for he dared not see what followed. It was said that to look into a Sama’s eyes was to gaze into Death itself.  The veil over the old woman’s eyes was lifted, but she did not speak.  “Your eyes are as milky and empty as any other.”

The Sama agreed. “They are.” “Then how did you know?” “Only oola and sama can speak to each other.” “And how did you know I wasn’t a Sama?” “You do not sound like one,” the old woman said. Then she added. “You do not smell like one.”

“You cannot smell my perfume,” the Oola said. “Only men can do such.”  She waved her hand, as one might swat at a determined gnat. The pilot was surprised that there were not mosquitos about to make her pantomime more practical, for he had slapped several that fell to his large forearms.  Perhaps mosquitos could not smell her perfume, either. A shame. It would have made their deaths all the more memorable for them.

“You are correct,” the Sama said, “but I smell your rouge.  Crushed red beetles with peppers.  They burn when you are young, but as you get older the skin no longer feels it.”

The Oola did not say anything for a moment. The pilot could not see her lips, but he knew that under her veil her full, pretty lips were forming the perfect pout.  Thinking about those lips caused him to feel sudden arousal.  He rowed faster.

“I only have one hand,” the Oola lied. “How did you lose your hand?” The Sama asked.

The Oola, who certainly had two hands, waved with one and began to tell her story.  Her voice changed, much to the pilot’s horror.  Before it had been overbearing, condescending, and cruel.  Now it was soft and sweet, submissive and serene. She seduced him with the silence between her words and swallowed his pitiful manfulness without slowing.  “I was on a boat,” she began, “just like this one.”

“Poor girl,” the Sama said.

Amused, the Oola went on. “And I was running my hand along the water’s surface and singing a song.  Would you like to hear the song?”

The Sama nodded. “I would, please.”

All too pleased to perform, the Oola leaned against the side of the boat as she had said and reached her hand down.  The murky water may have hidden endless terrors, but her fingers skimmed the surface as peacefully as a leaf settling along shallow water.  The gentle glide of them caused the water to break into small rivulets, though it was her voice that truly separated the world: heaven was where she spoke and hell was when she was forced to breathe.

The pilot was entranced.

Her song was gentle and sweet, of a young woman that had become lost and was forced to ask for help from a cruel man.  The cruel man wanted to take many things from her, but she said she could not give them without love in her heart.  In the end, the cruel man vowed to become kind if she would but love him.  It was then that she stopped.

“When I got to this part, I have heard, the pilot wanted to warn me that a crocodile was in the water, but he could not speak to me.”

“Poor thing,” The Sama repeated. “You should not be sad for me.”

“I am not,” the Sama said. “The poor pilot wanted to save you, but could not.  Your suffering must remain with him to this day.”  Her sorrow was real but difficult to appreciate for its utter beauty, like dew on grass or a spider’s web over one’s door.  The pilot did not feel the same sense of excitement that he had for the oola when she sang, yet the Sama’s voice was so powerful and poignant, soft yet deep and rich, and touching so thoroughly that he found himself nearly weeping.

“But what of me? Do you not feel sorrow for me and my missing hand?” For several seconds the Sama was quiet.  Then she spoke. “You are pretty,” she said. “Why would anyone feel sorry for you?” “A pretty girl with one hand is worse than a pretty girl with two.”

The old woman was quiet after that.  She mulled it over by chewing with a mouth nearly devoid teeth.  “You are right.  I am sorry for you, as this explains much.”

“Explains what?”

“Why your posture is so poor,” she said. “Having only one hand, your center of balance is off.  You slouch to the side with the hand.”

“I was lying,” the Oola said. “To see if you would believe anything I said.  My posture is perfect.”

The pilot agreed, her posture was perfect. Her back was straight and her shoulders back, so when he glanced at her he could see the swell of her breasts and imagine her back arching to offer them to the pleasure of some lucky lord along the river.  His strokes were mechanical now.

After a long pause, the Sama spoke.  “That is too bad.” “What is?” The Oola asked.

“If you were missing a hand then there would have been an excuse for your bad posture.”  She faced the girl. “But as it is, there is no excuse for your behavior.”

[sunroki]

Medieval Sheith AU

So I sent @serpent-princess a post on instagram about the paladins of Voltron with capes, and my mind immediately went to a medieval sheith AU.

Disclaimer: I sent this in random chunks and it’s not a fully coherent thought.

~Now I want a medieval AU where Shiro is the king, and he has his knights; Hunk, Pidge, and Keith. Lance is a master thief who tries to steal the royal jewels, and gets caught...by Shiro. So he gets a choice: get locked up for life, or become a knight. So obviously he chooses to become a knight. Allura and Coran are visiting dignitaries from a foreign land, and she ends up falling for lance. Lotor is like the weird mystic guy that no one really trusts, except for Shiro.

~ (Bc I live for a friendship between them). But the main ship is Shiro and Keith, and everybody sees the tension between them, but they ignore it bc it would be ~scandalous~. Keith is like the captain of the knights so he’s also Shiro’s personal bodyguard and training buddy and so they always get into situations that are awkward and slightly sexual, like Keith pins Shiro, but Keith is sitting on Shiro and they looks at each other, and then immediately get up and start making excuses and go hide and scream at themselves

~ Like Zarkon is the evil guy, and he tries to assassinate Shiro, but Keith saves him, and they’re in that position that Jane and Loki were in in Thor 2, ya know like Loki was crouched over Jane, shielding her? It’s the same, Keith is shielding Shiro with his body, and he gets hurt, and they both think he’s gonna die, so it’s a big sad talk between them, and Keith is all like “I’m so glad I could spend my life serving you, my king” and Shiro’s like “how many times have I told you to call me Shiro.”

~ “I’m sorry *coughs up blood* my ki-Shiro. I don’t think I belong to this world for much longer *coughs up blood again*” then Shiro is crying, tears dripping onto Keith’s face, and he leans down and kisses Keith, who has just enough life to lean into it for a moment before going limp, and Shiro is ugly sobbing over Keith’s body, his head cradled in his lap, and everyone is there now, comforting Shiro, and Lotor creeps into the room, being all creepy, and then he’s like “I can save him”

~So Lotor summons a drink or some shit, but tells shiro that it must be him to make the deal with the demon bc he’s the one that loves Keith the most. *time skip* So Keith wakes up in Shiro’s bed, and shiro is sitting in a chair, looking like he hasn’t slept in days, and his cape is covering his right side, and when he gets up after realizing that Keith is awake, his right arm is revealed

~ His arm is made of metal, and has vast etchings, that are inked (bc I want tattooed Shiro) which is his deal with the demon saying that when he dies (naturally) his soul will go to hell and Keith hates that Shiro sacrificed part of himself to save Keith bc “I’m a knight and it was my honor and duty to protect you with my life, why would you do that, how could you yadda yadda” and Shiro just says “because I love you!” And Keith’s breathe hitches and all that shit, then they kiss

~ And they walk out of the room, arm in arm, and they say it’s bc Keith still can’t hold himself up, but then Lance is like “nawwww y’all are in love, stop lying to us” and so Keith and Shiro are blushing and whatever, but theyre like yes, we’re in love. *time skip* a royal proclamation was made, saying the King is to be married, and everyone is like “whaaat who is the lucky lady, there haven’t been any princesses here lately, and lots of people think it’s Allura

~ And on the wedding day, all the peasants are allowed to attend bc Shiro is a benevolent ruler whom everyone loves, and so Shiro is at the alter in the middle of the crowd and wearing his fanciest kingly robes, and then everyone starts murmuring bc here comes....Keith, in his brand new sparkly red knight armor walking down the aisle, and then everyone is cheering, and Lotor is officiating (and also glaring at people who look like they want to object) and they have super cute vows

~ And Shiro dips Keith when they kiss, and everyone is happy and throwing flowers, and the other knights, and Allura are the groomsmen (and woman) and they are all crying and Keith and Shiro are just so in love walking back to the castle for the reception, and like inside the castle is for noble people but there is a huge feast outside for the peasants (bc shiro is the best king ever) cue cliche wedding scene and then there’s the wedding night and lance keeps making innuendos so they leave

~ And then there’s super romantic soft smut bc they’re ~so in love~ and then it’s a time skip to when they’re older and Shiro is sitting on the throne with Keith by his side doing super kingly duties like holding court or some shit and suddenly there’s a gaggle of children yelling “Papa papa” and they jump on Shiro and everyone is laughing and then Lance and Allura are off to the side, holding children with lovely white hair

~ And Hunk and Pidge are still guarding the kings but Hunk is courting Shay and Pidge lives with their brother who is a sorcerer. Lotor is still weird, but he’s friends with Allura and they talk about Allura’s home country bc Lotor is obsessed with learning about his heritage bc he was abandoned in this kingdom by Haggar and Zarkon. Everyone trusts him but lance doesn’t like him. Keith has a pet wolf and found his mom, bc after they got married, Shiro told him to go find his family

~ Bc he deserves it (but Shiro just wanted to meet his mom and thank her for birthing such a beautiful child) and Lance hates that Keith came back EVEN MORE BEAUTIFUL and stronger or whatever bc Shiro won’t shut up about it

~ And everything is a happy ending and Hunk and Shay get married and have kids, Pidge stays unmarried and fights anyone that tells them that they should have gotten married when they had they chance.

~ Then Keith is gone, and Shiro is super old, and tired, wishing he could follow Keith, but knows that the demon will call in his contract when Shiro dies. The kingdom now belongs to their oldest child, who is doing an even better job than his dad, and Shiro falls asleep, and passes peacefully after a night hanging out with his grandchildren. He wakes in hell, and the demon makes this huge speech about how he’s wanted Shiro’s soul for so long and he’s supremely glad that Shiro never tried to break the contract, but the demon saw how much he and Keith loved each other, and how heart broken Shiro was the two times Keith died (the first time then of old age) and he realizes that it was true love, one of the rarest things in the universe, so he allows Shiro to follow Keith into the afterlife, and they then live on for eternity, happy, and their castle in the clouds ends up inhabited with their descendants, and Pidge, Hunk, Allura, Lance, and Lotor

[gnollandvoid]

MADical Items! The Strongest Items you'll never want to touch.

[Read the original thread here.]

Beautybane Blade (by ArchRain)

Legendary Item +3 Longsword. Requires Attunement by a Druid, Ranger, Oath of the Ancients Paladin or Cleric of the Nature Domain. If ever attuned a Character can never gain further levels in the aforementioned class. The character gains the ability to cast the Cantrip Druidcraft, learning another cantrip from the Druid Spell list if they already possess it and gain the ability to cast the spell Shillelagh targeting only this weapon. When the blade is drawn the DM calculates and announces a +1 for every Acre of Grass or Flowers, 100 trees and population of animals equaling either 100 Creatures or two CR within immediate unaided view of the Character with a maximum of +5 from these features to attack rolls. Whenever an attack is made with this weapon one of the aforementioned features instantly dies and the bonus is reduced by one. When this weapon critically strikes the opponent can expend two uses of the Legendary Save feature or instantly die. After killing an enemy with this weapon all party members lose inspiration or go to -1 inspiration if they had none available and the user cannot cast spells from their attuned class's spell list for the next week. Furthermore the DM randomly determines which prominent flower across the world instantly wilts and rots away.

Why it's fucking horrible: It visibly blights the land around you, permanently destroys a beautiful lifeform and leaves anything that survives in a horrible depressed state. There are no cheers and applause when you strike down an enemy with this blade. Only the quiet sobbing of the Universe. Why it's worth using: It's overpowered, edgy and cinematic.

Umbral Stone (by ignoringImpossibru)

Wondrous item, very rare. Any creature that makes contact with the crystal surface is instantly transported to Shadowfell, as if affected by the plane shift spell. Any time this effect is triggered, roll 1d20. On a 1, this location becomes a permanent gate to the plane of Shadowfell, open only under a new moon at midnight.

If the Umbral Stone is fashioned into any sort of melee weapon, treat it as a +1 weapon of that type, and trigger it's effect on hit.

Twilight's Cut (by Bluesamurai33)

This +3 weapon visibly distorts the air around it with waves of magical energy, similar to heat rising off a hot surface. An intricate handle made of Black Wood inlaid with Obsidian and Cold Iron meets with an axe head formed from the metal of a fallen star and granted power from a long forgotten Archmage.

In order to attune, a memory of a person, place or thing must be voluntarily surrendered to the blade each day at sunset in order for the attunement to happen. The wielder cannot offer up memories formed while attuned to this weapon. These memories can never be restored by any form of magic. While attuned, the user is shielded from any magic or effect that would effect their mind. Anyone who witnesses this blade being used must roll a WIS Save DC 18 or forget the event entirely.

The blade deals an additional 2d12 Psychic damage on a hit, and the target must make an INT saving throw equal to the psychic damage dealt or be paralyzed until the end of their next turn. Any creature killed by this blade is erased from the knowledge of the planes. No magic, not even a Wish spell can cause anyone to ever remember the creature. Paintings of the creature are unmade, any writing about it is made unreadable by any means and any memories involving them alter to not include them. Even the wielder is left staring at an unknown corpse, with only the knowledge that it was killed by his/her hand, but the who, what, and why of it are lost for all time.

Dreamcatcher (by Tsunimo)

Magical Weapon (Chakram), Artifact

The wielder of this weapon must first attune to it by sleeping with it under their pillow for a week. While doing so, the person attuning to it has fantastical dreams, as well as the best sleep they’ve ever had, or ever will. Upon attunement, the wielder is automatically proficient in it

The wielder of this weapon is able to receive the benefits of 8 hours of sleep with only 4 hours of actual sleep each night.(The character must still not take any strenuous activity for the entire 8 hours to receive the benefits of a long rest.) Whenever the wielder sleeps, he is wracked by nightmares the entire time, always about the wielder performing unspeakable acts upon the people he cares about most.

The Dreamcatcher is a beautifully crafted mithril Chakram. Made by a master weaponsmith, in the midst of nightmare-induced insomnia, when seen under moonlight, there appears to be an intricate web of strings on the inside of the weapon, forming the shape of an open eye. No matter how you look at the Dreamcatcher from then on, it appears that the eye is watching you.

This weapon has the thrown and finesse properties, with a range of 40/120, and is treated as having a +3 bonus. After being thrown, the Dreamcatcher returns to the attuned creatures hand immediately following striking a target or a surface. This cannot be controlled or stopped by the wielder. Attacks with this weapon deal 1d8 slashing, plus 2d8 radiant damage. If used during a full or new moon, strikes with the weapon are treated as critical hits on rolls of 19 or 20, instead of just 20 (this does stack with similar abilities, effectively inc

If the wielder uses the Dreamcatcher to bring a target to 0 hit points, the fear and terror held within its inner webbing is released, and channeled into the target. The target immediately transforms into an evil beast of nightmare, usually reflective of the targets greatest fear. While in this form, the target remains aware of what he is doing, and though he can do nothing to stop himself, trapping him in his own nightmare until the monstrosity is slain.

Phantom Blade (by Dovaaahhh)

Magical Weapon (Dagger), Artifact

This small dagger is missing its blade, and has been enchanted to use the energy of souls as its cutting force. It has been speculated that the creator had a steady supply of souls that were rent from their original body. A small ruby has been haphazardly fastened to the roughly carved and heavily blood-stained wooden hilt with a thin silver band.

Requires attunement. Using a bonus action, the wielder may summon a spectral blade, but doing so will consume the wielder's soul. The blade is a faint translucent crimson, pulsing faintly in time with the user's heart. Upon a successful attack with the summoned blade it will shatter into a cloud of etherial dust, and both the target and the wielder will instantly die.

Souls consumed by the blade are entirely removed from existence, thus they will not continue to their respective afterlife.

If the blade leaves the wielder's hand after being activated, they will die. However, the blade shall still remain activated for its remaining duration. It can be used to full effect by another being with a successful DC 25 Arcana check.

One hour after activation, the summoned blade dissipates. At this time, the wielder will die.

The Azure Codex (by BlueDragon101)

As the Book of Exalted Deeds and the Book of Vile Darkness are to evil and good, the Azure Codex is to magic. Pure magic. It is useable as a spellbook, and if you are attuned to it you gain the following benefits:

1 Major beneficial property 1 Minor beneficial property +3 to spell attack and damage rolls +3 to spell save DC

The Codex is divided into 3 sections: The Eternal Spellkeep, The Encyclopedia Arcana, and the Tome of Mystic Rites

The Eternal Spellkeep responds to the ability of the user. It acts as a spellbook with every spell written in it, although the only ones readable are those of a level you can cast. If someone, anywhere, creates a new spell, it is instantly added to the Spellkeep. While attuned to the Codex, the number of spells you can memorize/the number of spells known increases by an amount equal to your proficiency bonus. If your caster level is 10 or above, you may memorize/learn spells from any spell list, not just your own. However, none of these spells may be above 5th level.

The Encyclopedia Arcana is a guide to all things arcane. However, like the Tome of Mystic Rites, it is encrypted, abeit not as strongly. A user may make a DC 16 Arcana check to decipher a given page. The pages in this section consist of the Monster Manual Entries, the List of Magic Items in the Dungeon Master Guide and any magical lore specific to the setting.

The Tome Of Mystic Rites is a compendium of every known arcane ritual, from ones meant to summon gods to those that change day to eternal night. This is literally meant to store the instructions for whatever plot coupon/ McGuffin the DM uses.

The Open Book (by LePopeUrban)

This book allows any person who makes physical contact with it the ability to concentrate on a piece of unknown knowledge about any subject. That knowledge will be written, beginning on the next blank page, in a language the user understands.

Following this passage will be written a complete history of the user's life up to the point they used the book. If this person has used the book previously, the record will continue from where it last ended.

If the book is closed every person recorded in its pages and any living descendants will vanish from existence. All items recorded will also vanish from existence. Memory of any recorded events will be forgotten from all mundane and magical records, though their effects will remain. The book itself will appear, closed, at the location of one of these items, people, or events chosen at random.

When the book is opened again, its reader will find their own life story, written in a language they can read, up to the point they opened the book recorded within preceded by a page that reads "this book was closed" and followed by a seemingly uncountable number of blank pages. Nearby within 1d4 feet they will find a mundane quill and an inkwell completely full of ink. They will discover that any attempts to deface the writing are ineffective, but that they are free to write whatever they wish in the blank space.

Plot Hooks: An illiterate thief attempts to steal the book, only to have it vanish, and their world irrecoverably changed as a result. A power-mongering scribe or mage begins recording the history of the royal family for leverage.The book is used by an adventurer's guild to track down interesting items.The book contains the key to curing the world of some great evil, but is held open because it contains the life record of the noble paladin that found it.The book contains a record of the formation of the cosmos.There are two books, and their creators recorded the creation of each in the other.The book contains conflicting accounts of a historical event, and two opposing factions each believe one of them to be true.A cult leader enlists subordinates to obtain knowledge from the book without using it himself.An order of librarians and attempts to record as many events as possible within the book without knowing about or using its magical properties. The book is kept open only due to a tradition with unknown origins.The book is scanned in to a digital format. Its magical properties remain intact among all copies.

[wrydsigil]

HOUSE-BOUND INTROSPECTIONS FROM AN AGING LIFE

These days my wife cares for my needs. It comes with age, I suppose, this realization it will end one day, this mystery of an Earthbound life. One thinks he drank too much from the cup.  I’m spent and can’t get it up.  Tuckered out from my heighten adrenaline fueled rough and rowdy ways.   Not really.  Pretty mild mannered, and avoid conflict if I can.

It was after my close call with gall bladder cancer decades ago. If you don’t care, mindful of the thoughts you create from the abyss of the subconscious’ metaphysical dreamscape, I followed a mosaic path lined with twinkling kaleidoscope of crystals in my mind cinema. Distractions, life choices, what we do today plants a randomness of the future events to unfold.

Take a risk with magic and love, my life is a rom-com feature, unbathed in my naked naivety of how to monetize my American existence. 

Outside my home, things go on all around me, unfazed that I'm sinking into the past of memories. The seasonal temperature fluctuates from winter freeze to desert heat, and nature's way will  out last.  

One's life of decades span, full of fresh events and strife, those accomplishments and failures, are now all spent.  We all leave a legacy, usually not in the way we want.  

In my house-bound remoteness fragments of memories enter my mind.  Unknowing the side effects, regrets and happiness will arise.  With resolve in my heart, seclusion and privacy bring a settling peace.  Regardless of the daily turmoil's going on in the world that exist in a vacuum of pain; I can breathe deep into serenity for this discord is behind me now, tranquility prevails, my heart is at ease.

Oh how life is a constant challenge, this I now see.  When the decisions made turned out to be my own undoing, causing other misery.  Seeking consolation, solace or even relief, what disquieting acts I have committed are now released.

Imaginative illusions that drove my perceptions from classical literature in my youth, those golden years promised elude me now, what was it all worth?

Physical stamina is waning as age creeps over me.  Perhaps it pushed me to reflecting on this connection to the Soul within me. Ancient esoteric rituals of energy alchemy now come to me in round about ways.  But what I always came back to was "...ask and it shall be given unto you" my salvation.

On my shelves are stacked the chronicles I transcribed from daily events. The Grimoire rituals, shaman crafting seals.

Honing a way to express myself, for good or bad. Nothing mattered more, than to learn about what I didn't know behind the illusion that would make me sad.

I was transported into a world of other dimensions. There are others that came along later, mystical out of body excursions that I couldn't explain.  Because the system of civilization dictated to me a punishing conformity to live and act the same.  

You get a spark of inspiration so nothing else matters.  There is a natural feeling to it when it comes.  You read the words that speaks to your heart. The muffled Lord vernacular that carries you down those deserted roads to ancient ruins where the beginning of our story is told.

So, I ventured out to get an informed view of the world. My own odyssey prevailed to guide me that became an unknown swirl.  I disentangled the lies that veiled the Truth, and deciphered the ancient wisdom that illuminated my youth.

This was the standard to live by, chaos at every turn.  Unlike everyone else, things stuck with me, especially the ones with wounds I cared for, being human for all it was worth.  

High drama makes demands on us,  so the narrative related remains intense. Dramatic encounters were sought as a test, to set me apart from the herd.

Then there are allegories from the prophets that came along. You tolerate their belligerence, as they all react differently to the same situations expecting pay, that's a fact.  Make it plain and understandable, that's all I say.

The tapestry of history carved in cryptic sacred imagery within temples and shrines.

A catastrophic storm came along one day.   Some were lead to God.  Hindu myths, Greek deities, the coronations of anointed the kings were all left to bespeak.  

High brow or low brow, they wrote the embodiment of their affidavits upon their Souls. As we were left to interpret whatever they meant, the words were just paradoxes that abandoned us by evening in a pouring rain that wouldn't relent, the chimes of golden bowls rung the toll.  

The path of my purpose as savant of encrypted prophecy is based on the Tetractys of divine power.

That theme works its way into my day, today.  I see the Oneness of archetypal powers, my tablet of enlightenment points to the Golden Ratio, the exact science.  

Once I was an innocent youth.  Then the war of horror stories emerged.  It gives you concern for others, this I learned.

Once upon a time I had big dreams, loving life, now it is being shot to pieces.  Falling rain, muddy roads, pandemics, all life is breaking down all around you, but I have the foundation of the Universe built within my solitude.

Warfare has no limits. No matter how it is defined.  Birds perched on the cadavers, paying it no mind.  Nothing else is possible. Merciless attacks prevail.  Open your heart to being turned into an adversary of that morality of humanity and you'll see yourself in hell.  

All those power grabbers, stinking up your nostrils, in the trenches of their torture chambers of riches, they refuse to be accountable by throwing curses down your well.

Yesterday I tried to save a wounded dog. You have to finish the job, like a Roman soldier and be careful of those Germanic girls, I wasn't myself, this I could tell.  

There can just be a miscalculated equation that skews the mind; we call it an anomaly all the time.  Put the historical legends of war tablets down that lavish discourse of fallen heroes.  Lyrics that spin an epic tale like a Greek mythological, Hermetical awareness.

I once read about warfare making heroes,  but their underworld ain't talking to me now.  I got good common sense, you see, in case they were cursed to come after me as ghosts in the night.

I learned to protect myself with spell-crafting incantations from bohemian wizards, shamans and the like. Resurrect the Spirit Angels from cosmic dust through chaos protocols that reflect the Light. 

Metaphysical aliens are an optical aberration in the Third Dimension, but when flooded with DMT, hold on to your true nature sense of self.  Nature abounds in molecular orbs spinning in fluctuations around electromagnetic frequencies, photons and protons, the Milky Way of star-studded energy passes through you.  

You realize, you physical form is transparent, as only the essence of your spirit enlightens one to the divine flow of life’s other language, a cypher coded symbolic portal of ancestral interpretations, now you understand the origin our existence upon the Blue Planet..

The long journey home, it was full of pitfalls and dangers from trouble makers I recall.  This could make me deranged if not for the other means of meeting interesting people who explained it all.

So you ain't talking to me unless you use kind words.  Otherwise, it's futile, I won't hear your terms.

The ballads of hating words, left to wonder while such close calls from spitting vitriol verbal bullets zipped past my ears. Treachery swarms all around this world, that was all I came to know over the years. People exist in their beliefs out of fear.

You're given two paths to choose from in the trenches of the life and both are doomed to fulfill their destiny, regardless of your flight.  

Some gods and goddesses want to protect you, while others want to infest you with plague and gloom.  There is a way to overcome this archaism, I thought to myself, sequestrated in solitude, in my throne room.

I recalled I shared my bed with the wrong woman once, that angered the people I shouldn't have done. Something to remember, don't get into a mess, it can't be undone.

The wind blew across the desert plain when I returned to my realm, finding that misfit rivalries, those cagey squatters have moved in causing my betrothed goddess' skin to grow thousands of rose thorns.

But the misfits fled, forever banished when I charged the sky with a thunderous scornful damnation rage.  When the real life feud fell quiet, my goddess' thorns fell away. She embraced me with loving heart as rose petals fell from the heavens, whispering My freedom fighter has thus slayed.

I told her of all my adventures, adorned her with artifacts and rare coins from places and cultures distant and far,  before I settled down into a deep sleep, with Angels all around.

So if the story moves you, evokes your Soul to emerge, that's all that's important, these are just wyrds.

What does it all mean makes no difference to me. For everyone else has their own perceptions projected upon thee.

Beliefs and Duality is the trappings of death. Everyone has their own projection, an image of perception that they think they must protect.

Yet, this tale of chaos inflicted upon the rational mind, has just influenced your subconscious to join with mine.

You’ll see the angels around you when death is near.

Now, put this on a shelf, and forget you ever read it.  

The magical wonders of Life are about to happen to you, as they have for me, for we another of ourselves.

[shirtlesssammy]

13x08: The Scorpion and the Frog

Then: 

A bunch of stuff happened. This is just a pretty picture of Dean. You’re welcome.

Now:

Cambridge, England

7:45 on a Friday

A dodgy acting woman enters a museum and proceeds to make her way to a vault in the basement.

She tries entering a room with a passcode, but doesn’t seem to have the right code, so she goes in the old fashioned way --busting it open. Man, pilates really does work. She grabs what she came for, but not before getting caught by a security guard. It appears our thief is a demon and she smokes out to possess the guard.

Once outside, if the smoke possession didn’t convince us hijinks were in action, the strategic light across the eyes and billowing night fog should really tip us off. Another dodgy demon meets the security guard and takes the mysterious documents. The security guard wonders how Asmodeus will reward them --with an angel blade to the heart, my friend. Then demon #2, let’s call him Barthamus, calls Dean! On speed dial.

At the bunker, stressed-out Dean is over cleaning his gun, when Sam walks into the kitchen. Sam’s got no news on Ketch, no news on Jack, and -get this- is the one talking to Cas. I love the speculations out there that say Asmodeus has to talk to Sam because Dean would know in a second.

Anyway, Dean gets his call from Barthamus, where Bart indicates he has info on Jack. They should meet him at Smile Diner.

On the way to the diner, Dean clarifies his stance on the meeting. “You know, after Crowley, I told myself no more demons.” Lololol, this is a gem of a statement. Yes Dean, we know you had your Summer of Love with Crowley, and that you did extraordinary things to triplets together. Let those demons go.

Once at the diner, Bart tries kissing up to the brothers by offering Dean pie and calling Sam the smart one.

He also has a spell to track Jack. He tells them he’ll be in touch and takes off. Dean eats the pie. Sam does research, and finds out the spell checks out. Dean’s reluctant, but Sam convinces him to work with Bart.

They meet up with Bart and his associates, Smash -a safecracker extraordinaire- and Grab-a demon who can bypass supernatural security.

“What is this, a heist? Hold up...is this a heist?” Yep.

Their target is Luther Shrike, a collector of supernatural objects, who has a trunk of Bart’s. Bart would get it himself, but he needs the blood of someone who’s been to Hell and back: Dean. At first I was confused since both brothers have been to hell and back, but a nice Twitter exchange with Meredith Glynn, the writer for this episode, makes it clear why it had to be Dean.

Bart makes it clear to the brothers that if they don’t take his deal, he’ll contact Asmodeus. The brothers take the deal. Shrike will never see them coming!

Shrike, getting a visit from one of Asmodeus’s minions, sees them coming.

The night of the great heist, Sam pulls up to Shrike’s house in the Impala (Dean and Smash hidden in the backseat). Uh, way to go undercover dudes? Don’t tell me the Impala isn’t instantly recognizable by anyone related to the supernatural.

Dean and Smash head their separate way from Sam, who heads to the main house to talk with Shrike.

While working on a Grab summoning spell, Dean and Smash bond over Jolt Nerve Damage.  It’s like she’s the little sister he never wanted. Once Grab arrives, he tells Dean that the vault is cloaked, but Dean is a vault compass, and with a simple spell his arm is leading the way.

Back inside, Shrike pours Sam a glass of homemade gin while they talk over his collection. Judging by Sam’s face it’s DELISH. He shows Sam his prized “fang of basilisk.” Sam picks it up… Great. Yes. Get your finger oils all over priceless artifacts, Sam. Though Sam correctly identifies it as a gorgon tooth...so I’ll overlook it. So will Shrike, as it turns out. He asks to see what Sam brought from his family collection. Sam opens the box and OH MY GOD it’s Ruby’s blade. I mean. Maybe this is less precious in a world full of angel blades but DUDE. The stakes are suddenly raised.

Meanwhile, Dean is still trapped in the comic relief portion of the evening, walking around with his dowsing-rod-arm leading the way to the vault.

They find the vault hidden in a cellar and after some cajoling, Dean leads Smash down to find the safe. First they’ve got to get through the blood-hungry door.

Up in the house, Sam starts to wrap up the deal with Shrike. Clearly nervous because he’s been far less of a distraction than he’d hoped to be, Sam agrees to whatever the terms of payment he can get. Shrike pulls out a big stack of money, then says, “We both know you’re not really here for this.” Sam tries to play dumb and Shrike picks up the demon killing knife and attacks Sam. The knife gets knocked away YES but Shrike picks up a shotgun NO. Sam knifes Shrike but it does nothing. “As long as I’m on my property I can’t die.” He picks up the fossilized gorgon tooth and knocks Sam out.

Back with adorable comic-relief-Dean, he faces down the Most Perilous Peril. He’s got to stick his hand in the stone mouth on the door. His hand gets pinned by some seriously cool machinery and Dean gets his blood sugar test done, satisfying the door that he’s human.

Wounded only by a finger prick and the scorn of a young woman, Dean leads the way inside the vault.

Inside is an Indiana Jones level booby trapped hall with trigger plates set into the floor that set off poisonous darts. (I’m just going to sit for a minute and picture Wanek’s face when he got the script.) Dean Bean being the bestest in all the land sees the dart fly in slow motion towards Smash. He pulls her back just in time.

So this turns out to be a little hitch and they pause to ponder the problem. Grab shouts down to the clubhouse to check on their progress, when Shrike sneaks up on him and kills him with the demon blade. There goes one chess piece. Shrike surprises them in the vault and Smash knees him and races past him to the door. Nicely done, lady! Good survival skills, there. Dean Bean’s left alone with Shrike. “Awesome.”

Señor Sweatervest confronts Dean and it’s a regular gun v. knife-wielding-immortal fight, Dean firing fruitlessly into his chest until Sam interrupts. (Interrupting Sam to the rescue!) Sam drops that Shrike’s immortal and Dean punches his lights out. “Good thing he’s got a glass jaw,” Dean says. RIGHT???? <3

After the commercial break we cut back to the Winchesters and Shrike. They’ve tied him to a post and ordered him to help them...and then they’ll let him go. Shrike’s not willing to help them crack the riddle.

Smash (aka Alice) races for the gate where Bart’s waiting. She begs to do another job - any other job - rather than go back and face certain death in the vault. He’s unwilling to renegotiate her deal, however. Aw, she made a deal with the King of the Crossroads. :(

Back at the vault the Winchesters scratch their heads over the puzzle. Dean proposes just...flying by the seat of their pants. Sam’s shocked. SHOCKED.

“These aren’t like the lasers in Entrapment,” Sam protests. Hmmm. HMMM.

“Did you just say Entrapment?” Dean asks, glad to catch Sam enjoying pop culture like the rest of us. Sam hatches an idea.

They load up Shrike in a cart and push him right through the middle of his booby trapped hall. He makes the whole run and soaks up all the poisoned darts. Good job, kids. Sam and Dean ponder the safe when Smash shows up. She’s ready to finish the job and stay alive and outta Hell. She pulls out a stethoscope and cracks the safe in less than a minute. 

The Winchesters grab the trunk and head out the door where they discover that Shrike’s gone missing. “Who cares? Let’s blow this pop stand.” They load up the Impala and head for the hills. On the road they’re confronted by Shrike in a anger-red pickup. Dean does some fancy reverse driving while Sam shoots out the tires.

Shrike tells them they’re working for pure evil and they learn his story. Shrike sold his soul to save his son but his son died from an accident a few years later. When the hounds came to collect, he made a new deal. He’d located Bart’s bones and threatened to burn them if the hounds ever came for him again. “You’re on the wrong side,” he tells them and before we can fall into too much introspection a machete slices Shrike’s head clean off. It’s Bart! Man, he’s good at sneaking up on people.

“You never should have left the house,” Bart tells a now quite dead Shrike.

Bart pays Alice then pulls out the second half of the spell for the Winchesters. Sam and Dean decide to renege on the deal...and Bart grabs Alice. He threatens to snap her neck before he goes up in flames. Reluctantly they hand over the trunk to Bart. Bart sends Alice to pick up his trunk and she apologizes to them.

“You gotta take care of you, right?” Dean asks, his EYES TELLING A WHOLE OTHER STORY. There’s a lighter in the bones… Alice understands Dean’s woo woo mystical eye language and lights the bones on fire. Alice is saved but the spell goes up with Bart (no thanks to Sam’s roundly mocked fire-putting-out skills).

Cut to a bus station. Alice thanks the Winchesters, tells them she’ll see them around, and heads for the bus. “Hey Alice,” Dean says. “Stay weird.” <3 <3 <3

Back at the bunker the Winchesters debrief and decompress. Dean’s looking on the positive side of life these days and consoles Sam. They saved someone, they’ll figure out another way to find Jack, and the world will keep on truckin’.

En-Quote-Ment:

Hell Street, Hell Avenue, just Hell really.

“The famous Winchesters!” “Some random demon.”

You’re a real pain in the pitchfork. And the halo.

Twinsies.

I’ve seen this movie a thousand times.

Hey Winona. Nineties called. They want their shoes back.

This is all on you, hand puppet.

There was supposed to be a safe and not some dollar store Indiana Jones crap.

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