#monster hunter stories 2 spoilers

[floodwatersblog]

i love getting party wiped by six turn long supernova attack

[edgetouwn]

✦✧Drawing monsters until Monster Hunter: Wilds comes out✦✧

:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ#16 - Oltura:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ

Request for @mshornywhore

I know I keep changing my schedule for this project, but I swear this is the last change. I'll keep doing this as frequently as I can, and I'm still gladly taking requests, but its not longer gonna be on any kind of schedule, I'm just going to post/draw whenever I'm able to avoid burnout and art block. I hope you all understand <3

[rave-in-the-grave]

add butterfinger to orlando

[drakomachina]

my razewing rathalos (postgame) design for ratha! im preparing to replay stories 2 and getting in da mood by drawing my baby boy.

[dire-miralis]

Hunters in Stories: "My father, a veteran hunter, took a Rathalos fireball in the face, now he is at death's door....." Hunters in the mainline games:

[girlkisserr]

[midnight197]

Here a few Screenshots of my current Status in the Game!

[prismit]

how the hell did i not cart once to primordial malzeno???? insect glaive op, apparently

[cat-tyy]

Been playing wilds for 2 days but it also keeps crashing or turning of the xbox

I do have lot of fun tho(just sometimes i would rather throw the box(innocent) in a lake.

PRELOADED WILDS!!

[felassan]

Thoughts on the new images of the Lighthouse Part 2. DA:TV spoilers under cut.

[Link to Part 1]

I ran out of image allowance on the first post so I'm putting the rest here in this post.

I think maybe this is Davrin's room. on the righthand side, there are floor-to-ceiling windows (one part of them even has curtains) or even the whole wall cut away - this would be perfect for allowing Assan to fly out and fly in as he came and went. ^^ Corinne Busche said this about Davrin's room:

"When you see Davrin’s room, you’d certainly assume he’d be up watching the sunrise with that view. If only it weren’t in the fade"

with windows so big or a wall cutaway, you can see why Davrin's room is said to have an amazing view like this. :D

On the right hand side of the room is lots of things you'd need if you were into wood-carving/whittling, which is implied for Davrin by what he's doing in the Lighthouse group shot: stool, workbench/table with shelf space beneath, tools, a log of wood on the bench, what looks like a saw, piles of more logs, an axe to chop them with, a stump to split them on. on the workbench are some of his finished projects: a carved nug, a carved dragon, and there are other wooden carvings he's made elsewhere in the room. on the floor nearby it's scattered with I guess wood shavings/bits of broken wood from chopping wood.

Some more carvings Davrin has made - he makes so many :) here we have nugs and an adorable bear design. sidequest to help Davrin open an Etsy store.

Another standout thing about Davrin's room is all the monster stuff. of course, he's a monster hunter. Over the fireplace is the skull of a large creature. fixed to or hung from the ceiling are the bones that make up a large creature's spine (they remind me of dinosaur bones in museums). left of his armchair near a curtain is another big skull on the wall. there's a collection of horns hung from the ceiling and more smaller skulls on the wall behind that. other items along the monster-hunter theme are bits of bone(?) or horn(?) or something on his desk, annotated anatomical illustrations of different types of creatures (which ties into how he sees it as a specific skillset to hone, how he learns monsters' weaknesses to be able to exploit them etc), and the various glass containers - some of these look to contain monster parts (specimens or trophies?). Witcher vibes!

Nug diagram and a horn-like or tentacle-y specimen in the green jar.

Assan has been scratching the back of Davrin's chair like a cat hhh. can we gift them a griffon-sized scratching post pls? and next to Davrin's comfy chair by the fire is a rug or sheepskin kinda thing of some sort on the ground - for Assan to lie on when Davrin sits in the chair? ^^ how lovely. it looks like there's also a stick, bone or chew for him on the ground near that. maybe that's Davrin's outside coat draped over the top of the chair. and btew is the nug to the right of the fireplace a carved wood nug statue or a stuffed dead nug hh?

Halla statue? ^^

Right: Another halla statue? Center: Another? Left: Animal diagram with drawings of could be a halla (top) and a set of halla horns (the biggest horns in the center).

There's a halla statue in Bellara's room and one in Taash's room too, but if these things in Davrin's are all hallas, that's a lot of halla things in one. Coincidence, monster-hunting related (as they're animals), Dalish-related, or Ghil-related? it's been wondered if Davrin's vallaslin correspond to Ghilan'nain (which would add a layer to the story of 1. an elf encounters not just one of their gods but the one whose vallaslin theirs corresponds to, 2. a monster-hunter, as she's mother of monsters, and 3. a Grey Warden monster-hunter who just may have been killing the mutated darkspawn and mutated monsters emerging from Ghil's monster-pools lately).

I wonder if the silver chalices around the room are meant to evoke the Joining cup?

What are these green things at the window?

Davrin's room has some empty shelves. I noticed some empty shelves in Emmrich's room too. I'm assuming this is where companions will display the personalized gifts we can get to give them, like was mentioned in the second dev Q&A:

Corinne Busche: "Out in the world, and there in various locations, so you kinda stumble upon them, you can buy a gift that is very personal to any one of the companions, and then you go, you turn that into them, you give it to them, they have a nice acknowledgement. And then, the thing that’s just like so sweet about it, we’ve talked about how the companion rooms evolve over time, but if you go and get them one of these, like, very personalized gifts, they’ll display it in their room. Like it doesn’t go into some stats void. It’s actually on display."

(if so, I'm assuming there's such a place in each room not just their two ones; just, those places may be out of frame due to angle in the other images).

Outside of the room you can see more ruined ancient elven Fadey architecture.

Process of elimination leaves this as Lucanis' room. Lucanis?? 😭😭 in what looks like the kitchen storage room?? if you need a snack in the middle of the night do you either wake Lucanis up when you sneak in (he'd hear you with his senses) or encounter him still up because he can't sleep well that night in the corner with his demonic aura?

it's dark - check, dude who "hides in the dark". he doesn't appear to have many belongings or personal effects - check, dude who is practical and pragmatic. he's a lot less ostentatious than Illario.

there's food everywhere, including fresh produce and a returning Dragon Age classic, giant cheese wheels. :') likely there is more food in the sacks, baskets, crates/boxes and pots. sleeping here reminds me of what was said about Lucanis being one of the team cooks in the second dev Q&A:

John Epler: "Bellara and Lucanis actually end up being, essentially, the team cooks. Bellara, you know, spending a lot of time out in nature, learning a lot about, you know, different types of cooking, is really big on experimentation, she likes to, you know, try different things. Lucanis comes from the Crows, Lucanis is very big on the finer things, so between the two of them, there’s a point in the story where they basically decide, if we don’t do this, the entire team is going to starve, so let’s just call ourselves the cook, cooks, and make sure that nobody dies of food poisoning, so."

I wonder if the chests contain food, other supplies or Lucanis' belongings.

Another one of these things. There's one in Neve's room and Bellara's too. maybe there's one in each companion room and the other screenshots were just taken from an angle where they can't be seen? again I'm so curious what these are for (or maybe they're just decor).

[Link to Part 1]

[harmonyrae]

A Sovereign is Born

Synopsis: A story he never thought he'd tell, his own. How did he become the Abysm Sovereign, a monster to so many? Who was he before?

My submission for the Where Drakeshadows Fall Fan Art Contest

Content Warnings: Spoilers for Sylus's Myth, Grief, Death of Loved One, Physical Pain (mentions of the horn/tail transformation), Sylus POV

Word Count: 5.9k

It’s not unusual for Sylus to sit up and read for an hour or so after waking up. He enjoyed waking up slowly and starting his day, or rather his night, challenging his mind. Leaning against his headboard, he propped his book up on his knee while he sipped his tea. However, the peace and quiet was short-lived. 

“That’s it! I can’t do it anymore!”

Her voice echoed down the hallway. A smirk spread across Sylus’s lips as he listened to her footsteps making their way to his bedroom door. The door swung open, but Sylus kept his eyes glued to the book before him. He felt the bed shift heavily beside him. He looked over to see she had face planted right into the plush black comforter. Her hair was tossed into a messy bun, her usual Hunters gear replaced with a pair of red sweatpants and a t-shirt three sizes too big. Sylus’s smirk turned into a full blown smile.

“Is that my shirt?” 

She lifted her head and blew a strand of hair away from her nose, completely ignoring his question. 

“I haven’t been able to sleep for the past 2 nights. I’m - I don’t know what to do…”

“So you came here?”

“I’ve tried everything - warm milk, ocean sounds, meditation, no caffeine or screen time after I get home from work, melatonin gummies. Nothing has worked. So yes, I came here.”

She dropped her face back onto the comforter. Sylus tilted his head, clearly enjoying seeing his kitten in such a desperate state that she came to him for help. As various ideas floated through his mind, one stuck with him.

“Do you know why I love reading so much?”

“Hmm?” She didn’t bother to lift her head to respond. Sylus could tell she was past her breaking point. He had already decided he would do everything he could to help her relax and fall asleep tonight.

“Stories take me to far away places or back in time. That escape, no matter how brief, eases my mind. Stories speak to the soul.”

She lifted her head and looked at Sylus with wide eyes.

“Tell me a story!”

Sylus chuckled. She sat up on her knees and clasped her hands in front of her.

“Sylus, I never beg. But… please? Please tell me a story?”

“On one condition.”

She scooted closer to him, seeming to agree without knowing the terms.

“You tuck yourself into this bed and call out of work tomorrow. You need more than just one night to recover from insomnia.”

“Sylus! I’m not- I’m…”

“Sweetie, I just woke up, remember? You’ll have the bed to yourself all night.”

“Oh… uhm…” She sighed heavily. “Deal.”

She rolled off the bed and kicked off her slippers. Peeling the comforter back, she slid between the sheets and let out a contented sigh as she settled in. Turning on her side to look at him, she smiled. “Story time!”

Sylus closed his book and set it on his nightstand. He pressed his lips thinking about the story he was going to tell. Would it be too much for her? Would it be too sad? He cleared his throat in an attempt to smother the anxiety.

“Are you sure my story will interest you? It’s not a happy story. Quite sad actually. And it involves dragons.”

“Ooh dragons! Yes, tell me, tell me!” 

Her excitement made his heart swell. His nerves, much less troublesome. 

“I just have to decide what to name the main character.”

“Sylus.”

“Yes?”

“No, name them Sylus!”

“You want me to name the main character after myself?”

“Why not? It’ll be like you’re talking in third person.”

Sylus pinched the bridge of his nose and forced a smile. The story he was about to tell just became infinitely more challenging. But he nodded.

“Okay, they’ll be named Sylus then.”

He crossed his arms and braced himself, prepared to tell a story he had long ago promised to never tell a soul.

“In a time before humans, dragons occupied the land. And before Sylus - well, dragon Sylus that is -  was born, a great war was being fought between clans. His father was fighting on the front lines, while his mother protected her egg. She never left her nest, even as news from the front took a turn, she focused on taking care of her unhatched child.”

She smiled and pulled the blankets up to her chin. Sinking deeper into the plush mattress.

“Sadly, Sylus never got to meet his father. When word reached his mother, she immediately flew to the front. Leaving her egg to search for her lover to say a final goodbye. The war had already ended and the spring flowers had started to bloom when she arrived. She couldn’t find him, all she could do was roar into the night sky, mourning her lost love. And as quickly as she flew to that datura covered field, she returned to her child. The egg showed the first signs of cracking during the days she was away. She was terrified that leaving the way she did would mean her child wouldn’t survive.”

“But they did.” She whispered.

“Yes, they did. When the egg broke open, she was shocked to see a creature unlike anything she’d ever seen before. It didn’t look like a dragon. Pale skin, tufts of white hair.”

He winked at her and she giggled in response. Her eyes softened as her imagination took over.

“She was shunned by many mothers in the clan. They believed she had been cursed for leaving the egg the way she did. But she didn’t believe that, not for a moment. She saw him as a blessing. Even if she didn’t understand why he was so different. She would make a pilgrimage to the field every spring to pay respect. Eventually, Sylus wanted to go with her. And here, kitten, is where the story really begins.”

Sylus clung to his mother as she flew. Her ebony scales shimmered in the sunlight. Her crimson wings outstretched, steady and fluttering gently in the wind. Spring had started early this year, the air was warm and the floral scent washed over her, bringing tears to her ruby eyes. 

“Will I ever be able to fly?”

His small voice broke as asked. He’d been asking the same question for years. The only dragon-like features that he had were his talons and scales, which had slowly started to spread across his arms in spare patches, chest and up his neck when he had turned 5. There’ve been no new developments in the past 5 years. He still had no horns or tail, and of course, no wings. 

“I hope so. But remember what I told you?”

Sylus collapsed onto his mother, his arms swayed against her neck as his face pressed into her back. She felt the chill of a tear run over her scales. She flapped her wings hard, pushing them higher into the sky above the clouds. Sylus squealed in response.

“Mother!”

She smiled, she could hear the excitement in his voice. She flew higher and higher until the clouds lay beneath them like a fluffy meadow. 

“Stand up.”

Sylus didn’t hesitate. He dug his claws into her scales, anchoring himself before he placed his feet firmly on her back. She leveled out and let her wings spread wide to allow them to glide. He removed his claws and eventually let go completely. She looked over her shoulder to see his arms outstretched and his face painted with a smile. The fabric of his tunic billowed in the breeze, the arms cut loose to imitate wings.

“Better?”

Sylus giggled and flapped his arms, feeling the fabric flutter.

“Better.”

“We’re almost there, you think you can hold on for a dive?”

He looked down at his mother with wide eyes, his sharp teeth on full display as he smiled. He nodded and dropped to his knees to cling to his mother ready for the descent. She tucked in her wings and angled her nose downward, diving through the clouds and straight for the ground. Sylus laughed and shouted as wind nearly deafened them and the ground grew closer. His mother finally flung her wings out and the updraft pushed them upwards before slowly descending to the field.

Sylus slid down his mothers wing and rolled onto the ground. He lay on his back, savoring the feeling of solid ground beneath him. As much as he loved flying, it made him appreciate the safety of the ground. He rolled over on his stomach and watched his mother walk into the field. She settled at the top of a hill and wrapped her wings around herself before lowering her head to the ground. Sylus frowned. The excitement of the flight momentarily made him forget the purpose of the trip.

Sylus jogged up the hill to his mother. He sat down next to her head, which was nearly three sizes larger than he was. If he was a normal dragon he might be half her size by now, but whatever “cursed” him made sure he would always be tiny in comparison to his kin. He shoved those thoughts away for now, leaning against his mother and using the ends of his tunic to dry her tears. It was always a hard trip, his mother mourned the loss of his father as if it was only yesterday she lost him. 

“Tell me the story.” Sylus nudged his mother. She let out a soft growl in response. 

“Sylus…”

“Come on, you know it helps. Tell me!”

She sighed, her breath blowing the petals off of hundreds of flowers that sat before her. 

“When I first met your father, he was just a young dragon learning how to fly. I was, of course, performing better than he was in class. He would antagonize me during class, but during the journey home he would stay close to me, telling me stories about far away cities he had heard of and wished to see. When we came of age, he never gave any indication he liked me in any way. But when our first mating season began, he approached me and I was rather shocked.”

“He had a crush on you and you didn’t even know it. Embarrassing.”

“For me or for him? Being direct is always better. Don’t be embarrassed about what you desire.”

Sylus scrunched his nose, but nodded before settling back against his mother.

“It was rather impressive at first, but I think he got too cocky. He tripped over his tail and rammed his nose into a boulder. Everyone laughed and my friends urged me to ignore him, a better mate would present themselves. But –”

“But you didn’t want another mate, you wanted him!’ Sylus finished for her.

“I did. I wanted your father. Everyone thought I was crazy and mocked me for choosing a weak mate. But in just a few months he –”

“He proved himself to be the fiercest warrior and became the commander of all warriors in our clan!”

“You know the story better than I do it seems.” She laughed. “He wasn’t just strong, he was brave. He didn’t care what anyone thought of him. I loved him dearly and miss him everyday.”

She nudged Sylus with her snout. 

“And you remind me of him.”

“But I’m not even a real dragon. And I’ll never be a warrior.”

“You are stronger than you know. Being different doesn't make you weak and it doesn’t mean you can’t be a warrior. You have a purpose Sylus. I know it.”

Sylus stared at her, tears filling his eyes. 

“I just want to be like you. Like father.” 

“And you are. You don’t have to look like us to share our heart. Our strength.” 

Sylus never stopped wanting to look like a normal dragon, but over the years he started embracing his natural strength. Stubborn like his mother and cunning like his father, he proved himself to be a respected and valued member of the clan.

Sylus was 16 when the humans came. Tension in the clans grew as new inhabitants moved closer to their valley. And then they invaded. Clan after clan fell, their weapons were strong enough to pierce scales and shred wings. His mother protected him, but she wasn’t able to keep them away forever.

The afternoon sun cast a red glow across the valley, Sylus clung to his mother as she flew. Her strength was dwindling, her wounds were deep. Sylus had tried to treat them, but she wanted to get away from their army as quickly as possible. 

“You have to stop, you’re hurt!”

He felt her drop several feet, her wings refusing to hold them up. She straightened her neck, pointing herself in the direction of the cave they had called home for the past few years. But when they finally approached the entrance, she couldn’t make it inside. Her claws scraped along the mountain side and Sylus could barely hold on. She came to a halt on a small ledge, her body collapsing, her wings draped over the edge of the cliff. Sylus crawled over her body, tugging off his tunic to press into her wounds.

“We have to get you inside, they’ll see you. Mother?”

Sylus couldn’t hide the fear in his voice. His hands shook as he treated her wounds. His mother let out a strangled roar. She was in too much pain to be quiet, Sylus knew they’d have heard her. They’d come for her and soon.

“I know it hurts, but you have to be quiet, you have to try, please.” 

Tears stung his eyes, his heart pounded in his chest. The headache he’d had for the past few days had become so much worse. His mother struggled to open her eyes, a haze muddying the usual red shimmer. 

“Be strong, my love. Always be strong.”

“Stop. Stop it! Don’t talk like that!” 

Pain washed over him as his scalp split open. His talons clawed at his head as he screamed. His mother shifted, with her remaining strength she wrapped her wing around him protectively. He fell to his side as his back arched, his tailbone transforming and his tail extending. His body calmed, but fear settled over him. He lifted his hands to feel the spiraling horns. He felt his body sway and he looked over his shoulder to see a tail sweep against the rock beneath him. 

“Mother?”

“I see them, my love. They’re beautiful.”

Sylus didn’t have time to process this sudden change. He’d waited 16 years to have horns and a tail, to be remotely similar to his kin, and now he would be hunted for having them. He resumed treating his mothers wounds, moving to the dagger stuck in her side. 

“I need to remove this, hold still okay?”

His mother let out a deep growl. He gripped the hilt and pulled with all his might. The blade shook as her scales scraped against it. He placed it on the ground and moved the cloth over the new wound. She wasn’t getting any better. With tears streaming down his face, he finally knelt next to his mother, trying to meet her eye.

“Mother?”

She looked at him through weary eyes, her breathing slow. 

“Please don’t leave me… I can’t… I don’t want to be alone.”

“You will never truly be alone. You are my beautiful warrior–”

Her chest shook as her eyes closed. Sylus collapsed beside her, his body shaking as he sobbed. He forced himself to sit up and run his hands along her face, her scales rough and shattered. He rested his forehead against her, the pain of his new horns and tail mingling with his heart breaking.

Then he heard it, shouts in the distance. He looked over the ledge and saw the humans. They were climbing the mountain towards him. They had seen his mothers body, he had to hide. He looked up at the cave entrance. He picked up the dagger before digging his claws into the rock and pulling himself up. 

“I see movement!”

Sylus swore under his breath, they’d seen him. He hauled himself up the mountain and rolled into the entrance to the cave. He stood and raced to the furthest corner, searching for a way out or a hole he could hide in. There was nothing. The shouts were getting closer now. He looked down at the blade in his hand. He looked down at his tail. It felt foreign to him, like it didn’t belong, like it wasn’t meant for him. Maybe it wasn’t….

He didn’t have time to talk himself out of it or think up another plan. He wanted to live. 

He pressed the dagger against the base of his horn, the cool metal made him shiver. He grit his teeth, a sob breaking free as he began to cut. The horn came loose and he held it in his hands. He threw it to the other side of the cave and began on the other horn. The pain was almost too much to bear. The horn fell away and blood trickled down his face. The stream poured into his eye and he blinked away the sting, but not before feeling a strange warmth spread through his mind.

He heard the sound of blades and more shouts. They’d reached his mother. He held his breath to stop himself from screaming in anger. 

He blinked back more tears as he placed the blade under his tail. Bracing himself against the wall of the cave he sank down. His tail fell away and Sylus collapsed. He crawled to the opposite corner of the cave, leaving a blood trail behind him. He pulled his legs to his chest, his heart aching, his skin stinging, his eyes burning. The shouts are right outside the cave now. He didn’t have any strength left, if this was it, he couldn’t stop it. He felt an inexplicable exhaustion take over and he slipped into darkness.

Her face. Bright, soft, sweet. The dress she wore. The dark fabric flowing and fluttering in the wind. She held red datura flowers. She reached out a hand, a flower held between her delicate fingers. Sylus felt a subtle touch, as if the flower was tucked into his hair. And then darkness, once again.

Sylus opened his eyes slowly, the room spinning around him as he woke. He stared at the blank ceiling above him, a faint scent of herbs wafting through the air. He turned his head to see a man crouched next to a small fire, mixing something in a cauldron. Sylus coughed. The man looked up and gave him a small smile. He scooped something into a wooden bowl before approaching Sylus.

Sylus tried to sit up, a combination of fear and curiosity settled over him. The man offered him the bowl with a wooden spoon. Sylus cautiously took it.

“Root soup, it’s not much, but it’s all we’ve had for the past few days. Should help with that cough too.”

The steam from the soup warmed his face. He took a spoonful and sipped, the warm broth soothed his throat. He dropped the spoon onto the blanket beneath him and tipped the bowl back taking large gulps. The man laughed.

“You’ve been asleep for two days, I figured you would be pretty hungry. There’s plenty left.”

Sylus finished the soup before looking over at the man properly for the first time. He shifted uncomfortably, his back still tender.

“Where am I?”

“You’re with Judicator’s finest - his dragon slaying army! We are a day's journey away from the city.”

“The city?”

“Ivory City! You must be from a neighboring village, taken by those beasts. It’s good we found you when we did. Seems you fought off the beast and kept yourself from being a meal! The Judicator was impressed.”

Sylus clenched his fist. They’re calling his mother a beast. They think he killed her? That he is human? He suddenly reached up to his head, but felt no horns, only fabric.

“Your head was bleeding pretty bad when we found you. A doctor in the city will get a better look at you tomorrow. For now, the bleeding stopped.” 

The man took the bowl from Sylus and returned to the cauldron to ladle in more soup. Sylus heard blades clash outside and the faint sounds of hooves against gravel in the distance. He realized they’re in a tent. He’s surrounded by humans. The humans that killed his kin. Who killed his mother. A heat rages beneath his skin, his chest heaving. Sylus closed his eyes to calm himself. 

“More soup?”

Sylus opened his eyes and took the bowl eagerly. He sipped slowly this time, still not bothering with the spoon. He took in the man’s features. Old, black hair speckled with white, a long beard, silver armor, a long sword hung at his hip. He wondered if all the men in this camp had weapons like that. Sylus straightened his back, becoming acutely aware of how defenseless he was. No weapons to defend himself. No wings to escape. 

“Thank you.”

The man nodded. 

“I must report to the Judicator, he wanted to know when you woke up. Get some more rest or explore the camp, but don’t go far.”

With that, the man left. Sylus set the bowl down and reached behind him to feel the base of his spine. The skin is tender, but no tail. He felt his head one more, the skin smooth where the horns once were. He sighed in relief. They thought he was human, maybe he had a chance. 

Sylus spotted a set of clothes in the corner of the room. He stood and held up the clothing before him. They appeared to be his size and made of quality fabric. Much better than what he could find to clothe himself in years past. He stripped off his dirty clothing and pulled on the black pants and sleeveless tunic. The pants were a few sizes too big, but the buckles on the waist secured them nicely. He stepped out of the tent and squinted against the setting sun. At least a hundred men are camped here. There are dozens of tents propped up across the field and horses grazed nearby.

He strolled through the camp, taking in the humans gathered around campfires. Like his kin, they varied in appearance greatly. Some tall, some short, some thin, some wide. Some with hair on their face or no hair at all. He rubbed a hand along his jaw, feeling no hair, only the ridge of the patch of scales that ran up his neck toward his ear. He covered the scales with his hand, panic settling over him as he wondered what the humans thought of his scales. 

Sylus quickly ran to a stream just on the outskirts of the camp. He crouched and looked for his reflection in the water. The moonlight lit up his face, making his silver hair glow. The water settled and he gasped at his reflection. He appeared… normal. He looked like all the other men in the camp. He ran a finger along the scales on his chest, feeling their rough texture, but seeing nothing but smooth skin. He lifted his hands, his talons appeared to be replaced by slender fingers. When his gaze returned to his face, he saw himself smiling. 

“I look like them?” Sylus whispered.

For the first time in his life, he wasn’t sad or angry about his appearance. He’d wanted horns, a tail and wings for as long as he could remember. But now, he was surrounded by creatures that looked like him. And his “curse” had, somehow, masked the remaining features that set him apart. He leaned back on his heels and looked up to the moon. 

“What do I do now?”

His heart ached. Could he really stay with these humans? The ones who killed his own mother? Learn to live like them? Embrace his appearance and suppress his draconic desires? He stood up and walked further from camp, toward the steep slope leading back into the valley he had called home his entire life. As he gazed out over the horizon, he saw a flicker of firelight, the faintest hint of smoke rising into the sky.

“We burned the bodies. We didn't want to risk some kind of filthy disease washing its way into the rivers and streams as they decayed.”

A deep voice rang out behind him. Sylus flinched.

“Didn’t mean to frighten you, young man. I was concerned when I didn’t find you in your tent.”

“I’m sorry, I just… I wanted to take a walk. I didn’t know…”

“It’s perfectly fine. I was surprised you strayed so far from camp. Given all that you’ve been through.”

Sylus nodded. He wrapped his arms around himself, suddenly feeling cold and uncertain in the man's presence. 

“I’ve built my army to fight even the most foul of beasts. You’re safe now.”

Sylus looked back to the valley. This man must be the Judicator, the one who started all of this. Who started the war against his kind. Sylus had a thousand questions, questions he never thought he’d get the answer to, let alone ask. But one gnawed at him and he couldn’t stop himself. 

“Why?”

The man walked up beside Sylus, looking over at him with a brow raised in confusion.

“Why did you want the dragons gone?”

The man laughed, his voice deep and cruel. He slapped Sylus on the shoulder. Sylus bit his tongue to avoid saying something he would regret.

“Because those beasts only know one thing. Desire. And desire leads to corruption and greed. They were evil and it was my duty to rid these lands of their kind. I am proud of what I’ve accomplished.There are no dragons left to destroy the souls of my people.”

Sylus felt his chest tighten, his anger and disgust making it hard for him to breathe. His heart felt like it was breaking yet again. The pressure behind his eyes building as he pinched them closed. His eyes flew open when he felt a familiar twinge of pain tickle his scalp.

“Why do you ask boy? Did they fill your head with their lies?”

The pain was so intense Sylus couldn’t speak. Fear paralysed him. He silently prayed to the only one he ever believed in. 

Mother, please. Don’t let them come back. Please…

But it was too late. He felt the flesh of his scalp split open once again and his body shook. He fell to the ground with his head in his hands. The man beside him lurched backwards, watching in horror as Sylus transformed. Sylus heard the footsteps of several men run toward them. His spine extended, his tail sweeping across the ground, knocking the Judicator off his feet.

“He’s a beast!” “How can this be?” “Is he a dragon?” “He doesn’t look like one, but he has horns! And a tail!” “He’s a horror!”

The Judicator stood over Sylus, peering down at his slumped form. He unsheathed his blade and kicked Sylus over onto his back.

Sylus groaned in pain, his tail coiling around him in a weak attempt to protect himself. He held his hands out, tears stinging his eyes as he tried to steady his breathing to speak.

“Please… don’t…”

“You disguise yourself and lie your way into our camp?! You intended to destroy our city! You foul creature!”

Sylus tried to crawl away from the crowd now gathering around him. His elbows sunk into the mud and his heels scrambling to gain traction. Other men were retrieving their weapons. Sylus gathered his remaining strength to dig his heels in and straighten his back, his legs shook as he stood. His hands still in front of him, shaking his head as he backed away from the men.

“We will not be fooled by you! You are a fiend. An evil, vile creature! You will not corrupt our souls!”

The Judicator lunged forward, Sylus reached out to try to stop the blade, but the man was too fast. His blade pierced Sylus’s chest. Sylus held the blade, as he stared into the eyes of the Judicator, the man sneered, pleased to see the fear in Sylus’s eyes.

Sylus gasped, the tears in his eyes spilled over, mixing with the dirt and blood across his face. He placed a foot behind him, trying to steady himself, but his tail swiped at the crowd viciously. Men went flying and some tumbled over the edge of the cliff into the valley below. 

“Stop him!” The men shouted as they rushed towards Sylus.

In a flash, a dozen swords were thrust toward him. Sylus felt every jab, his body weakening with every blow. The Judicator stood before him, watching his men attack the dragon boy. A prideful smile plastered on his face. Sylus kept his eyes trained on the man, he became numb to the pain, only feeling his body being shoved. 

Sylus fell to his knees, his hands crashing to the ground before him. He looked down to see half a dozen blades pierced through his chest. A sob broke free from his ravaged chest. He saw boots before him, the Judicators booming voice louder than his men's victory chants.

“The final dragon has been slain.”

He bent down and took the hilt of his sword, placing a foot on Sylus’s chest to gain leverage, he yanked the sword free kicking Sylus backward. Sylus tumbled backwards, his foot caught the edge of the cliff. He didn’t try to stop himself from falling, he closed his eyes as the wind howled in his ears. He felt the rocks of the cliffside against his back, his legs, his arms, his face as he rolled. The blades dislodged themselves and clanged against the rocks as they fell with him. 

Sylus hit the rocky base of the valley with a brutal thud, the metallic clinks of the swords falling all around him. He had no strength left. He forced his eyes open when he heard the sound of shouts above him. Men poured over the side of the cliff, making their way down using rope, some swinging from rock to rock. Their quick descent stirred something in Sylus. 

He was familiar with rage, but this was different. The pain his body felt transformed into something white hot. His legs burned as he stood. He stared up at the men climbing down to him. His right eye watered, it stung with every blink. Sylus wiped at his eye, but felt no tears. His vision darkened as his chest shook with something akin to laughter. Then everything went dark.

Her face, once again. Framed with silky strands of white hair. Her hand. Clutched a weapon of some kind. A sword? A faint golden glow swirled around her fingers and arm as she lifted the blade. Sylus felt the same searing pain in his chest. Blood splattered across her skin. Tears fell from her eyes. 

“Sylus…” She whispered.

A gust of cold air swept across his face and he shivered in response. His eyes fluttered open, a blue sky filled with soft white clouds floating above him. Beams of sunlight broke through the clouds and shone down upon him. He felt the warmth and took a deep breath, that’s when he felt it, the pain. He lifted his head to see the wounds scattered across his body. He sat up, clutching his chest as he looked around. 

Bodies surround him, men he saw at the camp. Sylus crawled to a boulder and used it to help him stand. Did he do this? How? And why did he feel so free and happy at the sight? A laugh bubbled up through his throat, catching him by surprise. The memory of his mother teaching him about the ancient dragon curse flooded his mind. Rage. Anger. Hatred. Something stronger. It took over and now…

Sylus walked further into the valley. He looked down to see a black red mist swirling toward him from the corpses. The mist felt refreshing, like a burst of cool air on a hot summer day. The mist swirled around his tail, up his spine to his horns, across his face and down his arms before funneling into his chest. The wound the Judicators sword had created glowed. He felt the wound close, but what replaced the flesh is bright like a ruby. The other wounds closed and his strength slowly returned as the mist continued to swirl around him.

With his wounds healed he felt the tension in his back grow. He hunched over and lurched forward, bracing his hands against the cliffside. The skin of his back split open, the pressure finally released and Sylus threw his head back letting out a roar. Crimson wings burst forth from the wounds. They stretch outwards, the breeze dusting over the newly exposed flesh. Sylus' chest heaved as he looked over his shoulder at his wings. He has wings. Wings. 

He stood up straight. His tail swayed and his wings fluttered, eager to take flight. He hadn’t seen the Judicator among the bodies. He also hadn’t seen that girl. He didn’t know why he dreamt of her, but he’d seen her twice. She wasn’t there. Who was she? 

He clenched his fists and closed his eyes, shaking the image of her from his mind.

“If humans want a monster, they’ll get one.”

Sylus took a breath and flapped his wings hard, allowing instinct to take over.It was a foreign sensation, but as soon as his feet left the ground he sighed. Years of wishing to fly and here he is, flying over a valley filled with bodies. 

He soared over the valley and towards the fields he had visited so often as a child. Tears sting his eyes as he lowered himself to the ground. He sat among the datura flowers, most withering in the summer heat. He picked one up and held it between his claws, allowing the tears to finally fall as he mourned the loss of his kin, his mother and the person he was. Only the monster remained. 

“You were right. That is a sad story.”

Her words are slurred, fatigue finally winning the war. Sylus shifts slowly and leans towards her, lifting his hand to gently brush the hair out of her face. 

“Is that really the end? Who was the girl? Did he find that judi-ma-cator guy?”

Sylus chuckles under his breath. His thumb moves to her cheek, stroking her soft skin. Her eyes were closed and her breathing was slow and steady. She was nearly asleep.

“He did find the Judicator. And the girl… she was very important to him. The most important actually. But that’s a story for another time. Sleep. I’ll turn out the light.”

She lifts her hand to cover his, trapping it over her face. 

“Wait.”

She stares up at him, her tired eyes glistening.

“At least tell me if he had a happy ending?”

Sylus gently removes her hand from over his. He pulls the blanket up over her shoulders and leans over to press a kiss to her temple. She closes her eyes once more, finally letting sleep take her. He smiles as he takes in her delicate features. He carefully stands and turns off the lamp beside the bed. He strolls to the door, but turns back to look at her before leaving.

“His story isn’t over yet.” He whispers.

He opens the door and gently closes it behind him, leaving his beloved to sleep peacefully.

Tag List (comment if you wanna be added!): @trishiepo0 @not-so-quite-human @kitsunetori @babyx91 @libriomancer @lilyadora @crowskitten22

AN: I have no idea if this will be allowed to compete because it is pretty intense, but I wanted to write this regardless. I always crave the boys POV so this was a must. I hope you guys like it - and cry with me... If you want to give the X post some love, it's linked below.

X Post: (posting now)

[voidscreamintheories]

Kitten: Theory of a "Hunter"

Spoilers for Hunter The Parenting

So Kitten. He is our happy lil Br*tish hunter. He also is always wearing ski goggles, a sweater, and full face covering. Even in the one flashback image we have of him. As always we must acknowledge the DNA this series pulls from: Kitten was the Captain General in TTS, this is why he uses a spear with a gun and a stake at the end in HTP, it's a guardian spear by way of hunter. It was a running gag in TTS that his helmet was never removed, even all of his other garments were. Side tangent, 1. WHAT WAS SHE THINKING 2. I hope desperately Lockwarden and Santodes return in HTP, because both of those characters were immaculate and we didn't get enough of them. Side tangent complete.

TTS acknowledgement aside, let us consider what Kitten might be. In the audiolog between Kitten and Big D, kitten seems to question the existence of some supernatural creatures, like the witch. Yet two of them he is unphased by them being mentioned: The vampires, which makes sense as the family is hunting vamps and Kitten has fought a vamp (important later). And the werewolves. This is the sticking point to me: Kitten not only is unphased about the existence of werewolves, he in fact says "wait hang on you know about werewolves" to Big D. Now that's a might curious, why wouldn't Big D, master-hunter and well known supernaturalist know about werewolves, and even more so, why would Kitten know and Big D not?

My theory is that Kitten IS a were creature. But not a wolf. In World of Darkness there are a few species of shapechangers like the werewolves. The wolves are the most common, but the other kinds know of each other's existence as well. I propose that Kitten is a werecat. Not only this, I suspect Kitten is a specific kind of werecat, a metis (can someone who knows more about WoD tell me is this is pronounced Met-iss, a made up word, or May-tea, a real word for a real world group of people who this does not necessarily apply to). A metis (in world of darkness, not the real world ethno-cultural group) is a shapechanger born to two shapechanger parents. When they are born they come out in their warform, the half-human-half-animal "hollywood monster" form. These shapechangers often have malformations of some variety, and this can include very obvious animal features even in human form. Say for example, cat ears and fur. I think Kitten wears his ski stuff, and has ears on his hood because he is a lil catboy under that hood. As a werecat he would be familiar with the shapechanger culture and practices, he'd know about other shapechangers (notice in the black shuck story at one point he says "and it is [black shuck]" not "and it PROBABLY is", maybe because he actually knows who black shuck is?), and he'd be supernaturally strong. Perhaps even strong enough to overcome a vampire that just fed. Kitten describes his encounter with the vamp at college, with maybe a Ventrue or Torreador vamp (I think Ventrue because he was charismatic but had a need for a violent feeding), while these clans aren't the normal muscle for the vamps, they are stronger than humans. Yet Kitten managed to beat this vampire, even though he was hopped up on blood. I think our lil cat boy was using his own supernatural strength. Another thing mentioned around this story is the tragedy that befell Kitten's parents, which left him with the house. If they are shapechangers, there is the potential that Kitten killed them during his first change, a not uncommon occurence in Garou families. There's also the possibility that his parents were killed in the war that all Garou are fighting, or because they broke the litany (werewolf mascarade) by having a metis child.

Now. Problems. Both Grimal and Markus have cannonically "broken that boy". Now is Kitten a "sorry babe, the ski mask stays ON during sex" type gamer? Or do Grimal and Markus both know? Not sure! Grimal could probably be convinced he was just REALLY into cosplay, I bet. And Markus may have known about Kitten being a cat from their childhood, depending when they first met.

But! This lets me talk more about garou society as evidence for Kitten being a cat. In shapechanger society, a metis is often hidden from the public until they can control their form, so as to not give the game away on werewolves being real. Maybe Kitten was isolated as a child, making it harder for him to interact with other kids when he did eventually get his form *more* under control. Maybe in the time before he was allowed in public, he became a true gamer. Maybe Markus was one of the few kids weird enough to hang out with him. Maybe those lack of social skills brought him closer to Grimal when they first met, two strange weirdos with similar experiences (please Alfabusa don't make Grimal the ghoul, I don't want her to get Arcanum'd)

Also! The werecats have some characteristics in their culture that might explain why our lil cat friend isn't just vibing with the other werecats. Some of the Bastet (Bastet means werecat, Keikaku means plan) are VERY curious lil fellas. They seek out hidden knowledge and talk to other garou clans to learn their secrets all the time. Maybe Kitten became a hunter because of his in-built desire to be a gatherer of lore. This would also explain how he knows all these stories, and finds secrets in games. He just HAS to know these things. This would further explain why he is SO upset about being blacklisted, he wants desperately to be able to study and learn, but has been cut off.

In brief, I believe Kitten is a werecat and his lil sweater ears are not just a fetish thing. He joined the arcanum/our hunters because it's a great way to sate his innate curiosity.

Now something to consider, as many of us know, curiosity does have a certain reputation regarding cats...

[rave-in-the-grave]

ratha’s last stand

[drakomachina]

2 sauce packets long

[amysgiantbees]

I LOVE Wyll and I understand why they did the rewrites I think he's a wonderful character and wouldn't trade him for his EA counterpart. However, since they chose to rewrite him the lack of material does a disservice to his character.

I love Gale and Astarion and would not change their stories for the world but they aren't really integral to the main plot. Wyll is though. Yet Astarion especially has SO much dialogue he comments on EVERYTHING and Wyll barely has anything to say even on the stuff that's important to him, like Gortash's coronation. It's called Baulder's Gate 3 yet the son of a BG duke has almost nothing to say. He's a monster hunter and we're fighting mind-flayers. There's rarely an instance where you couldn't come up with something for him to say.

It's just so heart braking that Theo, his voice actor, is so passionate about and loved doing his romance scenes so much but Wyll has the least amount of hours dedicated to it.

Scenes I would have liked:

Wyll talking to a child or an innocent post Karlach and he either gets hugged and gets to be surprised that people still see him as heroic. Or he's a bit too smug about it or guilty if he killed Karlach.

Wyll meeting up with a member of the flaming fist he used to know in Act 3- maybe they were trainees together when they were teens - and getting to talk about the old days like Karlach and her friend.

Wyll getting to be really surprised Florrick still wants his help in Moonrise after he's been transformed and she puts 2 and 2 together at his reaction and asks if this is why he left Balder's Gate and he tells her that his father asked him to leave. Florrick can agree or disagree depending on whether Wyll is on a good route and become a pseudo parental/familial figure.

The companions dialogue reaction to him braking his pact is fixed so everyone is more like how they react to Shadowheart killing her parents and aren't instead jumping down his throat like he's a power hungry maniac. It's clearly leftovers from EA Wyll when he was more power hungry but it throws his whole character off because clearly this version doesn't struggle with selflessness, he is nothing but! He needs to put himself first over his dad for once in his life. Like the only one I even kind of like is Halsin's dialogue about how a plant sometimes need to strangle a tree to find it's own light. I'm wondering if that isn't something to do with Halsin being expanded upon later in development so it was easier to match it to the new Wyll. Like Wyll damning himself for eternity is satisfying if he's been selfish, but at present it's just him risking himself again and not even for someone we know yet (or *spoilers* someone useful like all the dragon tip does is give us a bit more info about the Emperor and give Wyll some confidence(but that's less Ravenguard's fault and more the writers for not giving Wyll a proper Act 3 quest)).

I think it's VERY bold of Ravengaurd to say he WILL make it up to Wyll. Not that he'll try but that he knows he can make it up to him. Despite throwing out the sweetest teen on earth even though he was clearly trying to tell him something. Despite likely hearing about the Blade of Fronteir's exploits and never reaching out. Even after being rescued by him to just be still so full of bitterness. Despite all his failings as a father and always putting his reputation and Baulder's Gate above his son he really thinks it'll all be water under the bridge soon. So, I would like it if your TAV was able to challenge this assumption.

I would like it rewritten so Wyll actually has it out with his Dad instead of tadpoling him what has happened post rescue. Let them actually talk finally. Wyll lacks so much agency and could really use a dramatic moment like everyone else gets in Act 3 to shine.

I would love if your approval is high enough or you're romancing him for you to be able to see his walls come down once. I think it would be so powerful if after this whole journey he's been so composed and careful and then whatever happens with the contract in Act 3 he lets you see how he really feels for once. Like you still have your talk and he's all composed and tells you he just needs some time. However, later that night when you've gone for a long rest you catch him on the roof of the Elfsong or something. He could be crying, or praying to Tyr to save his father, or screaming, summoning dark tendrils of magic and yelling about how he resents his power.

Also Florrick should not show up if you break the contract unless the Duke is dead. It screws up Mizora's dialogue and brakes it a bit. Like if Florrick didn't show up till after you killed Orin that would probably work because if you kill Orin first you probably aren't going to kill Gortash or go down to the Iron Throne. Or at least give it a long rest or two before she shows up.

There's also just dialogue that does not fit that's leftovers from EA I believe. Like after braking the pact TAV being able to tell Wyll he shouldn't be a duke because he's too power hungry. Or even the companion dialogue where Wyll is a bit of a playboy and flirts with Lazel and then Shadowheart immediately afterwards - it totally goes against his hopeless romantic nature. Not that I want them to take even more content away from him though.

[my-stories-vault]

Part 2 ~ Love and War.

Pairing: Dean Winchester X Y/N Singer; American Dean Winchester X English Y/N L/N; American Dean Winchester X American Y/N L/N; English Dean Winchester X English Y/N L/N

Blurb: You must've read a lot of enemies-to-lovers, let me show how someone can be your lover and enemy . . .

Warnings/Trigger Warnings (18+): language, gore, major and minor character deaths, break up, major angst, surprise ending, the Supernatural Wars (TSW) spoilers.

Song Inspiration: Love and War by Fleurie.

Challenge: This chapter is a surprise ending and a connecter to my three series, the Supernatural Wars, Purgatory Series, and another one that's in the works right now (find those stories from the links below)! The first chapter can be read as a standalone one-shot, but this chapter will have to be read as part of the series. Hope you enjoy 🥰❤️!

{ Series Masterlist ; Main Masterlist }

Love and War: Purgatory Bonus.

Sitting in the library, my ass felt like it had been stuck with a superglue to the chair; it almost hurt to sit in now.

I could've gotten up, fetched a good whiskey, and paced around a little; probably hit the training center or the garage or the gun range - anything that would prove soothing after the long day this was turning out to be - anything that could get me out of this goddamn research, out of wallowing in my misery.

See, we had a couple of teensy-weensy problems on our hands.

Firstly, we had been thrown into another frying pan that kids liked to call the apocalypse these days.

Secondly, monsters seemed to be turning up all over our radars these past few days, and almost all the hunters in America were running on back-to-back cases to save people. Something that even Sam and I had been doing when we found her.

Which makes my third point: Y/N.

So, she was basically this girl we found on the roadside, lying unconscious in the middle of nowhere; wearing ripped clothes, her skin smattered with bruises and scratches that made me think that she had gone ten rounds with a wild cat - whose personality she seemed to match. But here's what got our panties in a twist: she didn't remember anything sans her name.

She shouldn't have been a clinch in our plans to take up the Rugaru case up in the north, but here came the clinch.

I've seen her before. In Purgatory.

Hell, I've done more than "seen" her before. I've loved her. I've gotten my heart ripped out by her. And here she stands - without any recollection of what she did, or how she got here. Without realizing that she's the Brit who saved my life.

She had come adorning my amulet - a replica of what I had years ago. We didn't how she got it, she didn't know how she got it.

But, frankly, it didn't matter right now. All that mattered was that she has been messing with my goddamn mind since the first fucking moment she met me.

Now that I've finally found her again, I've promised myself that I wouldn't go through that again - I wouldn't let her go. There was something inside me that told me that if I lost her today, I would have to grieve her.

And I can't do that. Not again.

I was brought out of my reverie when a storming and determined Y/N rushed out with Sammy on her heels.

'Whoa, whoa, easy there,' I stood up with my hands raised.

She stopped dead in her tracks as if caught doing something illegal.

'What's going on?'

'She wants to go after Rowena,' Sam explained from behind her, towering over her.

'What, why?'

'I want to know what happened to them, Dean,' her accent bled into her voice, too strong - unlike the accent she had phased out or rather tried to, over the years when she lived in Purgatory but coming back here seemed to have brought it back full force.

'You lost me.'

She sighed as if speaking to an insolent kid. 'The book Rowena gave me. It contained a story of—of a far-away kingdom, two lovers, and seven regions. And . . . I just need know what happened to them! The pages where the end should be are missing!'

The gears in my mind turned. We had called Rowena after Castiel mentioned how her memories weren't gone by fluke - but it had been devised that way by someone. The only creatures powerful enough to do that were the witches, hence, the call to a certain redhead.

She handed Y/N the book to keep her entertained while she investigated the "subject" (in Rowena's words, even though I told her not to call Y/N that). A book that Y/N refused to return when Rowena left - the witch just waved it off by saying that she'd collect it when she came back with a solution for Y/N's amnesia.

Before I could formulate a response, Y/N was already rushing up the stairs.

'Hold on, you're not going anywhere!' I demanded, wondering how the hell she was even going to find the damn witch.

Moreover, it had been years since I last saw her, and yet, she seemed to be the only woman who seemed to put a smile on my face and ease on my heart. I can't see letting her go without, at least, some fucking explanation.

'Y/N, you don't have your memories yet. We don't know what dangers lie ahead of you if you leave this place.'

'I know, Sam,' she exclaimed, standing a few steps higher from where Sam and I were at the bottom of the metal staircase that led us outdoors. 'But I can't shake this feeling out of my head. I feel like I lived this story. I can't sleep until I've found out the climax of this book!' Not waiting for us to recover, she turned toe and climbed up the steps two at a time.

We followed suit, my annoyance with her stubborn recklessness burgeoning - why was she always like this?

'Whoa, I'm not ready to play "Finding Dory"! You're not walking out of here - end of discussion.'

My hand reached out to her elbow, brushing against the scar her shirt's sleeves weren't long enough to cover.

And what happened next was too fast that it almost didn't register with me.

She gasped, all the air rushed out of her; her eyes misting over and fading under the white sheet that seemed to draw over her outstanding e/c irises; and then her head lolled forward, her body free-falling - almost hitting the ground but my reflexes made me hold her.

Her head hit my chest over my heart with a soft thud, and her limbs lost all their energy as she went limp in my arms. Her eyes closed just as my voice called her name out in panic.

Oh, this cannot be happening to me right now!

Y/N bolted on the bed, seemingly overwhelmed with the events that had unfolded. I knew this was a bad idea as soon as it had been suggested.

My fingers automatically found hers, latching on as if my life depended on her (it did).

'Darlin', you okay?' the depths of my concern were endless, and my heart threatened to burst past my ribcage like in the cartoons - but just slightly more fatal to my health.

'Dean,' she breathed out shakily, her eyelids fluttered open and her shoulders slouched as she leaned forward to rest in my arms.

I held her gratefully, breathing out through my nose in relief; my lips brushed on her forehead.

'Dean, darling, oh, my God.'

'What is it?' I pulled back, trying not to let the panic cloud my thinking. 'How can I help?'

She shook her head, gazing in my eyes with so much hurt.

Suddenly, she jutted forward, landing her lips on mine in a shocking yet I-will-die-if-I-do-not-do-this manner. My eyes widened before they closed in submission, letting her take the lead as my hands found purchase on either side of her waist.

Sebastian cleared his throat awkwardly, 'Still here, you know.'

Y/N pulled away gasping like a fish out of water, gulping as red flooded her face. 'I'm sorry, Mr. Slay.'

He chuckled, 'No worries, Y/N. Did you get it?'

She nodded, her haphazard hands producing two necklaces she went to the alternate universe for.

One necklace was a sign of the secret relationship and love, given by a Dean to a Y/N, and the other necklace was an amulet.

There was only one another universe where Y/N and I's namesakes and lookalikes were royalty - there were more royal couple like ours, but some had different names, or different birthmarks, or something or the other that differed.

There was only one other royal couple like ours, and we needed their symbols of love for this case.

Something that required Y/N to bend through space and time with the assistance of a redheaded witch, an angel I could not find myself trusting, and a few more odds and ends.

I would have been against it had it not been Y/N's only chance of surviving against Michael, the archangel whose vessel I was supposed to be, but Y/N won't let me say "yes".

As grateful as I am to her for protecting me, I don't like the fact that this involves teaming with other factions.

'Can I?' Seb stepped forward with a tentative hand extended.

She handed it over, 'Please, be careful . . . I can't go through that again.'

He smiled softly, exchanging a look with me, 'I will be. You should sleep the jet-lag off, Y/N.'

The room vacated and I finally turned to her, her breathing just now starting to even out. Brushing a strand out of her face, I smiled softly at the love of my life.

'Are you okay?' I repeated.

Tears welled in her eyes, and she swallowed the mythic lump gathered in her throat. 'Do you . . . do you know what happened?'

I pursed my lips, 'Rowena gave me a rundown.' I grimaced, 'I heard the other Royal couple died - I can't imagine it might have been fun for you, my love.'

'It wasn't,' she pouted, looking really upset. She sniffled, 'It wasn't . . . It wasn't that I just went there, I hitched a ride in the Y/N's of the other Universes.'

'Universes? Plural?'

She nodded, pulling my hand till she had maneuvered me around her body - up and out of my chair and lounging behind her on the bed; my legs tangled with hers, arms tightening around what I now understood was a shivering frame, and she settled against my chest with her head laid down over my heart. She took a few moments as my fingers carded through her open locks.

She kissed my chest, making my heart skip a beat despite so many times she'd done it.

'Well, first, I went to that Royal Universe like we planned - I-I-I didn't even remember myself or who I was when I was there,' she shuddered. 'It was only until that other woman died because of that arrow . . . did I come alive in her body, until then I was trapped in the back of her mind like some damn demon possession gone right?' She shook her head, 'I don't even know.'

'Did it hurt? Dying?'

'A bit,' she sniffled, 'didn't feel most of it - but what was worst was seeing you dead - died in my fucking arms!'

'I'm not going anywhere,' I whispered into her hair, my arms constricting further like shrinking steel bands.

She made herself smaller, slinging her legs over my thighs till she was sitting on my lap and burying her face into the crook of my neck, breathing my scent in till she had calmed down more.

'Anyway,' she cleared her throat when she had found her voice again, her words muffled against my neck and tickling me a bit - but I closed my eyes and relished the feeling.

'I had asked Rowena for a failsafe. Told her to keep an eye on me - whichever world I went into. So, she protected me as much as could there, protected me from some damn Phantoms, or something. I killed Gordon, I think - everything's so hazy like I'm missing a key detail. Then . . . when I could have probably died with how weary and bled out that vessel had grown, she transported me to another universe.

'I don't know why this one in particular. But it was one where there was this American hunter - you, and Sam - and you looked at me like I had done something to you! Like you missed me or something . . . Obviously, my brain had been fried to the point where I couldn't even remember my own last name!

'So, I didn't know what that look was for back there. I was just this girl they picked on the side of the road, I guess. With these necklaces.'

'Did you hijack that Universe's Y/N, too? The American version?'

'I think so, yeah, yeah, I think I did. But in our struggle for control, we both ended up cancelling out each other's memories, and I kinda won? Um, I guess, yeah. So, it was my personality with no memories while the original host sat on the back burner . . . Talking to me? Screaming, maybe, I don't remember.'

'How did you get out?'

'Rowena,' she raised her hand to rub her face tiredly.

'Do you want to sleep first, darling?' I asked her gently.

'Just let me finish the story,' she insisted, even though her eyes were already half-closed. 'So, the Rowena of the second universe gave me a book of the exact same story I had experienced in the first Universe - her way of trying to give me "my memories" back. But the pages in the end were ripped, and I panicked, because my own memories were like, behind a wall or something, and they were begging me to come back, and—' I breathed in deeply, 'No, wait, I think I fought with—No, I don't - I don't know! It just didn't work, so I panicked more. I really wanted my memories to come back . . . I really wanted to come back and—' She cut herself off, 'Why don't I remember?'

'You're okay, Y/N. It's okay,' I whispered into her hair. 'You don't have to think about it now. You got what you went for.'

A pregnant pause.

'I thought I'd never see you again,' her bottom lip trembled, twisting my heartstrings.

'As long as I'm here, no one can get you. You hear me? I would have found you wherever you ended up,' I said with all my conviction.

She relaxed further in my arms, and the pride over eliciting that reaction from such a strong woman boosted my low self-esteem.

'Long story short, the American version of you touched this scar,' her index finger absent-mindedly dragged along the scar she had gotten when she fell from a tree while we were on a hunt - a scar that only one other Royal couple replicated, who were now dead. 'And my memories rushed back to me, and I got pulled into reality. Our reality.'

'Now you're here,' I promised quickly. 'You're not going anywhere.' After a beat and a frown of realisation, 'I thought . . . I thought you could only hijack people who were similar to us. How did you hack that American?'

'Well,' she licked her lips, eyes sealed shut by now, breathing getting shallower by the minute, and I knew this would be the last question she answered for now. 'The second universe . . . I think she was a dream-walker or something. Technically, she can live my life - if she scouts my noggin and all, lives vicariously through me. Plus, I don't know . . . there must be some kind of connection between her and I, right? Plus, she had this scar - the one that triggered my return - I'm sure there's an explanation.'

'Probably,' I murmured.

When I look down, Y/N has slipped into the bottomless recesses of her brain, sleeping soundly, finally calm against me.

The way this woman rules on my heart - I swear I could die for her.

A/N: Can I just say I love plot twists?

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