#officially out of Birch Hell

[religiousbattlecats]

Birchstar of WindClan!

this is one of the funniest things ever to me ;

[lusi-raul]

My thoughts on JuanaFlippa’s return today:

(Warning: very long and delusional post)

Everyone is theorizing that Flippa is a binary code and I understand why. But I still hold on to my original theory that the eggs NEVER died. As long as the federation has no explanation for how the parents can say their final goodbyes to the “dead” eggs. I still stand by the theory that the original eggs are alive and kept by the federation. At the very least the federation has the capability to reanimate or clone the eggs but it’s more likely that they were revived because I think they have an infinite amount lives like the members, just a limited amount of lives where they can be left with their parents before they are taken away. No one really ever saw the eggs dead for the last time. All they saw was their egg being enclosed inside a wall. Only Bobby has a halo on his head but still, was he a ghost then?

Now, is the cracked Juanaflippa the same Juanaflippa we all know and loved? Improbable due multiple instances during their meeting

Didn’t backflip immediately when Slime asks if she’s been doing flips. The first thing Flippa would’ve done in that situation was do a flip.

Code-like writing style

Unusual cracks that are identical to Dapper’s

Oak signs instead of Birch signs

JuanaFlippa still being dead on the eggstatistics

Even with that egg being a code, there’s still a chance the real Flippa is alive and with the sweeping edge bug being known, this is a good potential lore arc to excuse the deaths of Flippa and Tilin and officially have them back. I also believe (since I’m delusional) that there’s a sliver of chance that this egg today can be the real Flippa. In the coming days maybe this egg can prove this by showing us things that only the real Flippa would’ve known. Flippa was a vegan, she loves backflips, she was originally named Frontflipo/JuanFlipo, her favorite color is blue. She is a witness to Slimariana’s misclick incident on Leo’s bed by faking her own drowning. Not many people know that, I think. The farm that the family of three made for Badboyhalo to atone for their sins and for an extra life for her. The first thing her parents ever taught her was to water bucket jump from a very high wall without armor. I’m very much delulu so even if one of these things Flippa remembers, i don’t care. She’s the real Flippa, the one and only.

The crack can be justified in my theory because if the eggs got cracked by the federation, what makes them stop doing whatever the hell they did on the alive eggs to the “dead” eggs that they already have? (According to my theory that eggs aren’t really dead at all). The eggs came back with memory loss. What if their memory from the kidnapping got wiped because they saw their supposed “dead” siblings there?

There’s also a weird theory I have with Flippa’s writing but bear in mind that I’m probably just losing it at this point but you know how maybe the federation has an advance surveillance system in place where Flippa just wants to avoid being detected and has to replace certain letters with symbols and numbers? On dapper’s book, the letter ‘a’ is replaced by the number ‘4’ but on Flippa’s it is replaced with an ‘@‘. The only numbers and symbols she used were 0,1,3, !,@. Idk how significant those specific symbols are but we do it too sometimes to avoid word detection and censorship. If she’s in hiding, and says it isn’t safe for her out there, maybe she did escape and is being so cautious with her words that she talks in a limited and cryptic fashion. If this is true it’s heartbreaking that the only thing she said over and over again was that she loves her dad and misses him. Like she has so many things to say, but she has to be cautious that all she can say are those.

Also it took the codes days of lurking around eggs with a camera in order to impersonate them. Where would the code have gotten information about Flippa when she doesn’t even have a proper bed grave.

I also think whoever led Charlie to Flippa isn’t with the Federation at all. The treasure hunt were white boxes on slime blocks. The chest with the book were on black blocks. It’s about time an anti-federation entity/organization on the same level of the federation reveals themselves.

All in all even if this egg is a code, the real one is very much alive in my heart. They just need to be given back by the federation. They never truly died. If it is revealed that this egg is just impersonating Flippa, then be it. At least we got to witness Slime being a dad again. But really if the qsmp team did this elaborate lore to excuse the death of Flippa and Tilin due to unfair death. Applause to them. I understand why they can’t just give their lives back. That incident happened too long ago but if they can make it happen but just needs to make it make sense lore-wise then I really hope they make it happen.

But really just seeing Flippa back like this, I’m satisfied already. The way the qsmp team had me on the edge of my seat today and had me looking forward to what’s gonna happen next: 👏 👏 👏

[paperbackribs]

I AM HERE FOR THE WIP THINGY FOR “Timetravel Steddie”!!!! ♥️

he he he so timetravel steddie in my wip folder is Copper Boy, but I like not having a proper name for it as I work on it, I suppose? if it’s less official then I’m more likely to write because I’m less intimidated. But I’m having such a blast with this fic that I have to thank you, Finn, for asking, because I. am. desperate. to share more. 😂

Warning: not exactly spoilers of Copper Boy since we know the endgame is steddie, but the snippet is from a chapter still weeks away from posting.

“This is nice,” he admits.

It's peaceful amongst the maple and birch trees with the dappled light rippling playfully across the forest floor. Steve points to a puddle at the base of a bare blackberry bush; a small blue jay dips its head in and out of the water, vigorously shaking with spray erupting from around its body. It’s adorable and Eddie smiles.

Steve squeezes his hand and leads him onwards, “I always wanted to share it with you.” He pauses, “That sounds weird, doesn’t it? Like this is my woods, even though it’s your backyard.”

“No,” Eddie shakes his head gently, “My closest connection to nature is the bench I deal at. I like the idea of it all in theory, but I usually end up with my pants full of ants and bitten to all hell by mosquitoes. I’ve also been known to trip on air, so a woodland ground littered with sticks and rocks is bound to take me down eventually.”

Steve laughs, pulling a vibrant green leaf off a birch tree to fiddle with it in his free hand. “Like the time you rammed nose first into the gym wall?”

Eddie gapes. “You saw that? No one saw that.”

“It was a bit hard to miss, Eddie,” Steve says wryly. “You had bright red blood streaming down your face. To be honest, I was going to offer to take you to the nurse’s office, but you ran out so fast that I left you to it.

A blush of embarrassment spreads across his face, “So everyone saw that.”

Steve draws Eddie to a stop, brushing a knuckle down his hot cheeks, “No, I’m pretty sure that I was the only one looking.”

Eddie searches Steve’s eyes, finding affection and a touch of heat that causes the back of his neck to prickle. “Yeah, like something you see?”

Steve steps forward, which makes Eddie inexplicably feel the need to move back. He retreats a fraction and Steve’s eyes narrow. “Eddie,” he says prowling closer and Eddie backs away with a larger movement.

“Yeah, Steve?” Eddie asks breathlessly, feeling his body tense, muscles almost quivering with the tension filling them.

“You have ten seconds,” Steve says deeply, his words a rumble Eddie can almost feel in his chest. Electric tension crackles in the air, sparking the pounding of Eddie’s heartbeat, each thud growing louder, faster, and more insistent. He stands frozen in the mounting pressure until Steve starts to count.

“Nine, eight…”

The dam breaks and Eddie darts away, the tall trees that surround them blurring as a surge of adrenalin propels his legs across the ground with reckless speed. He can’t hear anything over the pulse pounding in his head, but he imagines the heavy tread of Steve’s steps behind him, a powerful thumping that matches the heat in his blood.

Steve’s breath pants into Eddie’s hair making Eddies fingers and toes curl, “Got you.”

The thrill of pursuit fizzes through him, filling Eddie with a radiant exultation, laughter breathlessly spilling from his open mouth. His flight is dizzying anticipation and playful freedom.

Just as Eddie giddily thinks that perhaps he is too fast, even for Steve, he is tackled from behind; Steve wrapping a quick arm around his middle, the strong band redirecting his flight forward to spin him around in mid-air and back down onto the ground again.

Eddie wiggles like he’s trying to get away, causing Steve to laugh breathlessly. “None of that,” he commands, spinning Eddie to back him up against a broad tree trunk. Strands of Steve’s bronze hair has fallen over his face, his cheeks ruddy with exertion, and excitement high in his expression. Eddie wants to lick him all over.

“You still trying to get away from me, huh?” Steve says, voice dropping to gravel as he runs his eyes over Eddie’s panting mouth and heaving chest.

“Why? Worried you can’t catch me?” Eddie lightly taunts.

Steve’s eyes turn dark, the hint of heat in his gaze flickering higher, reaching the heights of wildfire. Eddie shivers in the thrill of prey tempting predator that crackles through his body. The tension only twists tighter as Steve leans in with slow deliberation, he draws the tip of his strong nose firmly across Eddie’s cheek, his breath hot in Eddie’s ear, “I think I’d always be able to find you, Eddie. No matter where you are.”

[rotomblr-multiverse-cataloguer]

Hey there. I've got some tasty, tasty info about a hot new universe cooking up.

Well, actually its not new but you get the point.

Universe 2014Δ also known as The Auraverse (Rotomblr Branch). Don't worry about the other branch, its not relevant.

Blogs contained within:

Mare Birch (@aura-acolyte): The Hero of Hoenn and Chosen of Rayquaza, Marie "Mare" Lillian Birch saved her world's Hoenn from the threat of Groudon and Kyogre unleashed by Teams Magma and Aqua respectively.

Zinnia (@last-lorekeeper): The Lorekeeper of the Draconid People, she travels the world searching for stories. She also assisted in the saving of Hoenn.

The Aqua-Magma Conservatory (@aqua-magma-official): The official blog of a reformed Teams Aqua and Magma, now combined as one organization called the Aqua-Magma Conservatory, intent on helping as many hurt and injured Pokemon as possible. Its run by Social Media Manages Kai and Nicky.

Lisia (@appeallove): Dazzling dizzying doldrums defying! The miraculous contest idol Lisia takes the stage! Well, not as much anymore. She mostly deals with management stuff but still manages to find time to put on dazzling performances.

Gabby and Ty (@hoenn-tv-official): The intrepid reporter Gabby and her long suffering Camera Man Ty are here to sniff out the latest scoop. Or they would be if they hadn't been demoted to Social Media Managers due to costing the Network a fortune in legal fees.

Phoebe (@phantom-flower): The spooky Ghost Type expert of the Elite Four, she claims that she can see and speak to phantoms and spirits. May or may not be a psychopomp.

Latias (@themostspecialestlegendaryever): The most specialest and bestest legendary ever has a Rotomblr blog. Go feed her snackytreats.

Archie and Maxie (@landandseaunited): The Co-Leaders of the Aqua-Magma Conservatory. Great guys, even greater dads. They fully regret their actions.

Anabel (@hoenn-battle-frontier-official): The Frontier Brain who runs the Battle Tower of Hoenn's Battle Frontier and also their social media account. She's rather reserved and more than a bit antisocial but she's on a quest to make some friends.

//yeah, in case you couldn't tell, I run all these blogs. That's not even all the ones I run. I'm sorry in advanced for possibly making your life hell.

Thanks for the information anon! They have all been added tho the map!

[justmanic03]

Amethyst - Chapter Fourty-One

Beads of sweat trickled down my forehead as I weaved my way in and out of the hurrying crowds of Taldourse's largest hospital. A pale-looking Nurse Joy stopped the four of us in our tracks. "Chairwoman Crystal! Clyde!" She greeted the two Elite members. "Danny is stable, but only two people are allowed in the room at any time." She explained. "I'm afraid I can only let one more in."

Crystal and Clyde instinctively stepped aside. Mackenzie and I turned to one another. "You go in first, Y/N. He's your rival, after all." Mack suggested, stepping aside.

Taking yet another deep breath, I followed Nurse Joy into a secluded room, where there was a bed surrounded by beeping machines. Lisa was already sat in one of the chairs at Danny's bedside, and my heart sunk when I saw he was strapped to an oxygen mask.

"Danny!" I exclaimed.

"Y/N! Thank God you're here!" Lisa cried out, running over to grab me. She hugged me so tight it almost hurt, although I didn't mind, I was just happy that Danny was still with us (for the time being at least).

"Has he showed any sign of stirring or anything?" I queried as we both sat down at my best friend's bedside. Lisa shook her head. "No... he's been out for the count the whole time. His heartbeat is really slow."

"This is how Kossi died..." I said with a shaky breath. Lisa's moonstone-grey eyes widened in horror. "Yeah, I remember from what he said back in the Opaquia gym. I hope whoever did it comes forward one day, but I doubt it."

"Yeah, about that..." I continued awkwardly. Lisa once again raised her eyebrows. I glanced at Danny's limp body, which was not moving, before proceeding to explain the situation with Professor Birch, and how Flossi had voluntarily given up the crowns.

"No way... the Professor of all people?! But he seemed so... normal... AND he had a portrait of Flossi in his lab?! What was all that about?!"

I shrugged my shoulders. "I guess it was probably a portrait that belonged to Kossi that he entrusted to Birch. They were best friends, after all."

"This situation is wild..." Lisa looked away as she attempted to process everything. She then turned her head towards me slowly. "Also, I know this isn't exactly an appropriate time to say this... but congratulations on defeating Flossi. You're the one true Champion of Taldourse now."

I turned back to Danny, whose eyes were closed and in a peaceful slumber.

"He'd be proud of you," Lisa continued, as she noticed a single tear leave my eye and fall down my face. "Although he'd probably still call you a slowpoke if he could." I managed a laugh at this.

****

~ 2 weeks later ~

"I don't understand why we have to dress fancy for this," Lisa commented, whilst fluffing her hair as she looked in the mirror.

"Because this is Y/N's official ceremony where he/she gets sworn in as the Champion!" Mackenzie giggled, as he pulled up the tight ribbon stockings gripping his legs.

"You look ridiculous in those socks, by the way Mackenzie," Lisa laughed.

"I don't get why these need to be so tight! And the silk shirt is itching really bad!" Mack complained.

"Calm down guys, it's only for a few hours. We can soon ditch this fancy gear once the ceremony is done with." I rolled my eyes, although I wasn't exactly rocking the fancy gear in the same way Flossi and Kossi did.

"It's alright for you, Champ. You look amazing," Lisa complemented, staring at my beautiful black-and-gold dress/suit with the silky white cape. I walked over to the mirror and smiled. Although the Champion's gear fit me perfectly, something felt inherently wrong about dressing up and being sworn in at a ceremony whilst my best friend was still lying in hospital, with no sign of waking up.

Mackenzie placed his hand atop my shoulder, sensing I was thinking about Danny. "He'll be alright. He's one hell of a stubborn fellow."

I felt another hand on my left shoulder, as Lisa came up behind me and spoke up, "Yeah. Danny would want the ceremony to go ahead. Although he'd be gutted to miss the barbecue."

This caused all three of us to laugh faintly. If there was one thing that could wake Danny up, it would be food (specifically a luxury burger from Pollux). Yet, even this seemed unlikely. It had been two weeks since the greatest showdown in Taldourse history, and Danny was still in his coma. Even though the three of us weren't privy to the conversations, we were all aware that the Elite Four had been in discussion with Danny's family about turning off his life support.

Just as the room was enveloped by woeful silence, the wooden door to the suite slowly started to creak open. "Huh?" I turned my head to the side, and noticed something large and pink peep its head around.

"Sloooowwww..." it grumbled, as it revealed itself and stepped into the suite.

"It's a Slowpoke," Mackenzie observed.

"Congratulations, Mackenzie, you have eyes," Lisa said sarcastically.

The chubby pink Slowpoke jumped up twice, as if it was gesturing us to follow it. I immediately realised that this meant the ceremony was about to begin. We all proceeded to follow the Slowpoke out of the room, down the elevator, and out of the hotel building. From here was only a short walk to the infamous Pokemon League.

Despite the thousands upon thousands of excited Taldoursian citizens eager to witness the swearing in of the New Champion, the three of us were given special passes to bypass all the crowds by the Elite Four. Although Mackenzie and I felt extremely honoured by this, Lisa used it to her advantage to pull teasing faces at the disgruntled queues of people who were anxious to get inside.

An usher showed us to our VIP seats, comprised of a row of red velvet chairs which were at the front of the grand hall facing the stage. In the VIP area, we were accompanied by all of the Gym Leaders: Blade, Veronica, Buzz, Austen, Chen, Robin, Maddie, and even Jordan. As for the stage itself, there were five large podiums; one was brown and rocky, another was a shiny silver, the third one predominantly pink with some blue, and the fourth black granite. The fifth, however, was the largest and most impressive of all, made from pure solid gold and sparkling gems from the Galar Mine embedded into it. Crystal and Clyde were already stationed at the dark and pink podiums respectively, whilst Louis and Seraphina were in deep conversations with a security guard. A Sableye was helping Crystal set up her microphone, whilst a Reuniculus was adjusting Clyde's.

****

~ Fast Forward to when the Ceremony Begins ~

It didn't take long before the large hall was completely packed full of thousands of people. The piercing frequency of Crystal's mic before she began to speak rang in my ears for a few seconds. "Hi everyone! Sorry for the delay! As you all know, my name is Crystal, and I'm your Chairwoman!"

Screams, claps and cheers ensued following the much-loved Dark Mistress' introduction. "So anyway, the reason we've all gathered here today is to swear in a new Champion of our beloved region!"

This was followed by even louder, more intense, claps, screams and cheers. I grinned internally as I knew that these tens of thousands of people were clapping for none other than myself. There were people with streamers, hanging off balconies, and setting off party poppers with confetti before the ceremony itself had gotten underway! The people of Taldourse certainly never wasted an opportunity to celebrate. Luckily, there were several Bisharps, Hitmonlees, Hitmonchans and Stonjourners around to help keep everything safe and under control. The messenger Slowpoke had taken its seat underneath Crystal's podium.

Mackenzie and Lisa were gesturing towards me, as I looked towards the stage and all the Elite Four were smiling in my direction. Crystal then continued to speak, "Ladies, gentlemen and Pokemon, I give you, Y/N L/N!"

The loudest and most ear-piercing shrill cheers and applause then followed, as Lisa shoved me off of my chair into a standing position. I carefully made my way up the stairs onto the stage, with the help of two Hitmontops. They manoeuvred me so that I stood behind the dazzling, gemstone-embedded golden podium that dazzled the room unlike anything I'd ever seen before. I felt the blood rush to my cheeks immediately as I came to a realisation.

This was the Champion's Podium! MY podium!

The cheers immediately dissipated as Chairwoman Crystal spoke up into her mic again. "Now, as you all know, I wasn't always the best with words. With this in mind, I'd like to hand you over to Deputy Chairman, whom you all know as the Fairy Master, CLYDE!"

A further round of screams and cheers followed as Clyde sent the crowd a bright grin and a wink before he stepped up alongside me with his pink-and-white microphone. Crystal stepped back, gesturing something towards Louis and Seraphina. They swiftly produced a trolley, which was covered by a large golden cloth. They began swiftly wheeling the trolley up into the centre of the stage, before Louis grabbed the cloth, unveiling the two beautiful Champion's Crowns. Several loud gasps ensued as the entire room became enraptured by the dazzling relics which, by this point, had not been seen in years.

Clyde began to speak up. "The rumours are, indeed, true. Champion Flossi was officially defeated by Y/N at the White Tower a fortnight ago, meaning the Castor Reign has now officially come to an end."

Following another series of claps and cheers from the excited crowd, Clyde continued, this time with a more stern expression on his face. "Now, this is not all good news. Unfortunately, during the battle, one of Y/N's allies and companions was gravely injured by virtue of accident, similarly to the Late Champion Kossi. Unfortunately, we are still unsure of whether or not he will pull through, yet we felt it unfair to put off the ceremony for any longer. Please keep Danny in your thoughts, he fought extremely bravely. Now ANYWAY! Back to the fun stuff! Crystal, it's time to do the honours!"

Clyde gestured for me to kneel down. Two Sableye came dashing towards me with a red velvet cushion, and placed it gently beneath my knees.

This was the moment...

The crowd went completely silent, as they excitedly watched for Crystal's speech as she carefully picked up the Amethyst Crown and positioned herself in front of my kneeling form. She gradually lowered the crown to place it gently on my head.

"By the Sacred Laws of Arceus, I, Chairwoman Crystal, pronounce you, Y/N L/N, Champion of---"

However, the crown did not touch my head, nor did the Chairwoman finish speaking, as the ceremony was abruptly cut off by someone storming through the doors. The thousands in the crowd turned their heads around to see the source of the mysterious intrusion.

"Hey! What do y'all think you're doing here?!" The intruder demanded. The voice sounded familiar, although they were too far down the hall for me to see their identity at this point. Several shocked gasps followed, as the person began to loudly make their way through the crowds towards the stage.

"How DARE you start this ceremony without me!!!"

[hitchell-mope]

Hypothetical titles for season 22 of 88.

The magic kingdom. Season premiere. Part one. Sidney and Findlay head off on the Disney cruise for their second honey. But Findlay has a nagging suspicion that they’re being followed.

A fifth avenue family vacation. Season premiere. Part two. The entirety of the Five Families descend upon the happy couple for “family togetherness”. Meanwhile. David coaches Clyde and Tina through their seasickness.

Back to front. Join Captain Birch on a highly confusing case that seems to start with the arrest and seems to end with the crime.

Good, bad and worse. Findlay, Sidney and Drummond’s let rip when they interrogate an unrepentant serial killer who will only tell them that nobody ever misses the boys. Guest starring Jenny Slate as Sad Clown Mona.

The r word. Clyde’s mother attempts to sue Findlay for full custody. Pointedly ignoring the fact that Clyde is in his thirties and Findlay is only his legal next of kin. Guest starring Debra Messing and Liz Gillies as Noreen and Deloris O’Bannon

Never hire a hooker at a government funeral. The team attends the funeral of Eamon Corman in Scotland and meets his son Edmond (Ty Tennant). Meanwhile. Jaspers indiscretion at the funeral could spell ruin for the Downey’s. Also guest starring Miranda Hart, Tom Ellis and Jack Whitehall.

Raise a little hell. Drummond gets an unwelcome surprise when he finds out they he inspired Tina to bankroll a revival of Bonnie and Clyde.

RBS (Responsibility BullShhhh). Barnaby and Jonah fall victim to the trappings of their lives when they end up losing Theo at the mall.

Gold star. Maybelle, Aida and Jacob have to decide whether or not to represent a lesbian woman who killed her girlfriend after the girlfriend came out to her as bisexual.

Spin the wheel. Lysander accompanies Tina back home to England as she supports her family through Jasper’s scandal. Guest starring Dani Harmer as Harriet Downey and Karen Gillan as Ms Leslie Korn.

Class three kill storm. The Five Families help New York batten down in preparation for possibly deadly blizzard.

Averse to tradition. Midseason finale. Part one. Jones and Skipper get into a blazing row when Skipper and Oswald won’t allow Theo take part in the 200 turkeys tradition.

Battle of the grandmothers. Midseason premiere. Part two. Oswald’s mother (returning guest star Catherine Zeta Jones) drops by for Christmas to visit Theo for the first time ever and immediately butts heads with Delaney who has made an unwise attempt at a dry Christmas for the first time since Skipper graduated college.

Awards season. The Mages And The Mundane sweep the Daytime Emmy Awards for the 88th year in a row. But Emerson’s acceptance speech threatens to throw Findlay’s entire life schedule into disarray.

What’s best for us. Part one. After Donovan decides to Move On to Heaven, Beaumont and Winnifred decide to Take Their Leave with Celestine electing to join them. Which puts a great deal of stress on Leland, Delaney and Jones. Final appearances of Bill Murray, Donald Sutherland, Whoopi Goldberg and Wendie Malick

It isn’t about us. Part two. Unable to take over his inheritance due to being in charge of the Supreme Court, Leland puts Zoey in charge of the Mulligan Estate. Wholly unprepared for the responsibility, Zoey lets slip a secret to Findlay about Clementines death that she’s been holding on to for nine years.

The easter baby. Andy throws a blowout block party for his umpteenth birthday. Guest starring Kristen Bell as The Easter Bunny.

Exempt. Andy helps Oswald and Skipper out with a problem with Theo without letting them know he’s the cause of the preteens change of attitude.

Canoodling. Tina goes a little unnecessarily off kilter when Skipper and Zoey get trapped inside the Wilkins family’s panic room.

Legal limit. The twins 21st birthday is coming up. And Barnaby persuades Findlay to acquiesce to a dinner with Jonah and Jack.

Better as friends. Now that Clyde and David are officially together. David has to find a way to let an extremely enamoured Macy down as gently as possible

The Oberon haunting. Sidney, Drummond, Jones and Sawyer get trapped in the basement of the Oberon during an unprecedented spectre infestation, forcing them to fight their way out before the fumigators arrive at dawn.

Portraits. Season finale. Part one. The team returns to Meadowlark Retirement Home when they learn of a resident who was just admitted for hospice care due to being in a state of constant, paralysing pain since 1916 which is tied to an incredibly famous painting. Guest starting Michael Sheen as Ewan Harvard and Joseph Quinn as Dorian Gray.

Mommy it’s here anymore. Season finale. Part two. The portrait is sent to the precinct in hopes that Lucia and Andy can negate its hold on Dorian. But a problem arises when Findlay learns that the painting must ALWAYS be occupied. One way or another. First appearance of Navillus Yaldnif

[zepskies]

She absolutely gave him hell back! As much as she could! Meanwhile, Dean does feel terribly helpless and frustrated.

“You froze, clutching your phone to your chest. No.” — I love this denial in such a masochistic way.

Gotta set the drama to level 10, don't I? 🤣 It's so damn angsty in this part. But it succeeds in lighting a mega fire under Dean's ass. Go get your girl, son!!

And Sam stubbornly coming in with the assist and caring younger brother "future brother-in-law" feels. 🥹

Ugh, I'm still upset we never saw Cassie again before the end of the show. That could've been an interesting way to give Dean his happy ending, but c'est la vie. 🫠🫠

“Well, it didn’t matter. Sam wasn’t going to let Dean let go of his happiness this time.” — Stan Sam for clear skin 🫶

LOLL. I love that. 🤣 But Dean really should rip into Dr. Birch. Sam barely held him back.

““All right, just teasing,” he said. “No need to hide.” He bypassed your hand to prop a finger beneath your chin so he could see your face.” — I love it when you write in the chin thing 😮‍💨✨

Now that you point it out I realize I do it a LOT. Is it too much?? 🤣🤣

Goofy/awkward Dean makes a rare appearance!! loll he's so cocky when he's early 20s Dean. But this situation is also pretty unusual and setting him off-kilter. 😂😂 But as much as he teases and flirts, she's spunky as well, and knows how to dish it back to him. (Hence the bathroom door in his face lmao.)

I'm so glad you liked their meeting!! And I can't wait to see what you think of the next couple of chapters, now that they've officially met...

Never Say Goodbye - Part 5

Pairing: Dean x Female Reader

Summary: The first time you and Dean sensed each other’s thoughts and feelings, you were just kids. It would take years to realize that you both were bonded for life, and even longer to finally meet. [Soulmate AU] (Rated M for eventual scenes – 18+)

Word Count: 4,800 Warnings: **(Trigger warning) physical assault, mentions of blood, language.

Part 5: Self-Defense

Your scream muffled as another hand grabbed your arm, pulling you tight against someone’s chest.

Terror was a living thing inside you. It paralyzed your heart and lungs and mind, but thankfully not your instinct to get away.

You thrashed and kicked over a lamp trying to escape the hold. You were all but dragged across the living room and into the kitchen. There you caught a glimpse of your attacker through a reflection on the microwave—it was a man and he was tall and blonde.

Your mind finally cleared of your panic just enough to remember the years of self-defense your dad had taught you. So you used your somewhat free arm to grab the man’s hand and bite down hard.

He yelled in pain and loosened enough for you to throw an elbow back into what you hoped was his face. (It was his throat, but you didn’t know or care at the time.)

You were able to scrape a bit of freedom, getting just a few steps away until he grabbed at you again. This time he forcefully turned you around and slammed your head on the counter. Your senses fuzzed as you slipped and fell into a heap on the ground.

You struggled through a haze of pain to open your eyes, but your vision was blurry. Your face felt wet. And for a second, all you could see were shapes.

Those blurred edges cleared up when the man knelt down and took your throat in his hand. You blinked through a few drops of blood dripping down your face, when you finally saw his. And you recognized him.

But then he started squeezing. The panic started in earnest as you clawed at his hand on your throat. Behind him on the counter were the kitchen knives, but you couldn’t even get up, let alone reach.

He had you pinned on the floor and you couldn’t fucking breathe.

Dean was in a panic.

One moment he was washing his and Sam’s dishes in the kitchen, teasing his girl. The next, the icy grip of your fear (and your scream) squeezed around his heart like a vice. He’d felt the intensity of your fear before, but not like this.

The force of it actually made one of his knees buckle and he accidentally cut himself with a small steak knife he’d been washing. Fuck!

But the pain persisted. It brought him down as he tossed the knife into the sink and clutched his chest.

He could only try to make sense of your thoughts. You were instinctively imparting to him one after the next, but it was a blur of jumbled words and emotions that he couldn’t make out. 

You couldn’t hear him calling your name either. All that came through his connection with you was your terror.

And then…nothing at all.

It terrified him into stillness.

Dean slowly raised himself into a sitting position on the floor, and he called your name, repeatedly.

Hey, can you hear me?   

After along moment, he realized that the silence didn’t mean you were gone. He could still feel you. You were just in shock. Frozen. 

Sweetheart, you with me? he pressed. You finally roused enough to reply.

Yeah…I’m…here.

Good. Dean closed his eyes and released a breath. Fuck, sweet relief. He sat up against the kitchen cabinet. His hand was still bleeding all over him, so he held it closed with his other hand.

Good. I need you to tell me what happened just now. Are you hurt?

You looked down at the body in your kitchen: Danny Schmitt. He laid face down on the yellow tile with a chef’s knife lodged deep into his spinal cord.

Your throat and neck hurt (along with your head), so it was a good thing you didn’t have to speak to communicate with your soulmate.

Someone broke in, and…

You realized that your hands were shaking. As you saw again in the microwave reflection, tears streamed down your face. You had a stream of blood drying on your forehead and down your cheek.

And you had no idea what to do next.

Dean swallowed a surge of protective anger and nervous suspicion, trying not to assume the worst.

Did he hurt you? he asked.

He um…he’s dead. And I…

Your reply shocked him, but he let out another relieved breath. He carefully picked himself off the floor. Okay, call 9-1-1.

My…my dad is a cop. I have to call him.

Interesting.

Good. Call him now, Dean said. But what’s your address? I’m coming now.

On shaking legs, you left the kitchen to find your phone—in your purse in the living room. There was broken glass everywhere.

What’s your address? he asked. I’m coming now.

You froze, clutching your phone to your chest. No.

No? What do you mean no?

Fear and shock were making your erratic, but all you could focus on was the fact that you were in absolute shambles. You didn’t want him to see you like this. You didn’t want to meet him like this—with literal blood on your hands.

No, you repeated.

This isn’t up for debate. His tone was firm and worried. Don’t do this to me. Come on.

He called your name, but you stubbornly shook your head.

And you shut down the connection between you two. You didn’t know you could do that, but you did. And then you sat on the couch and wept.

Dean was paralyzed with shock. I can’t believe she just did that.

You were still terrified, probably hurt, and now he couldn’t get to you. He didn’t even know your last name. He didn’t have your number or anything to go on.

“Shit!” he growled, slamming his good hand on the counter.

“What the hell happened?” Bobby asked from the doorway. He took in the blood on the floor and Dean hunched over the sink with a bleeding hand.

“Think you can guess, right?” Dean snapped, gesturing to his hand. That was frustration enough for anybody, but he knew that Bobby didn’t totally buy it.

Right now, he didn’t care. He had to find you somehow. Right fucking now.

Your dad’s embrace was warm, protective, tight with worry and relief simultaneously. You sat in the back of the paramedic truck while they wrapped your injured head and checked your vitals. Jack was patient as he went through the questions he needed to ask about your attacker.

Your house had already become a crime scene, swarmed with police personnel. They’d already taken the body out of the house.

The paramedic advised getting you to the hospital for a head CT. Your father agreed, but you held onto his arm.

“Can you give us a minute?” you asked the paramedic. The woman was probably just a few years older than you. She nodded and went to connect with her partner on getting ready for your transport. Slowly, you got off the back of the ambulance.

“Whoa, what are you doing?” Jack said in alarm.

“Dad, listen to me,” you said. You guided him closer to the house and away from his unit of policemen. You opened your coat enough to give him a folded towel. He took it and unraveled it, revealing the bloody knife.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered. “Okay, don’t worry. This is standard self-defense.”

“Dad, I don’t remember grabbing the knife,” you said.

Jack rested a hand on your shoulder. “That happens. You’re in shock—”

“No. I don’t remember because it was never in my hand,” you whispered harshly. “I didn’t grab it. The kitchen knives were too far away. It’s impossible!”

“Okay, calm down,” your dad said gently. “You…you’ve been through a lot. You’re just in shock. You’ll get checked out at the hospital, but when all this clears, you’ll be fine.”

“Think what you want, Dad. But when they dust that knife for fingerprints, they’re not going to find mine,” you snapped.

Slowly Jack’s expression dimmed from patient to understanding. At the very least, he finally believed that you believed what you were saying–that you had no idea how that knife ended up in Danny Schmitt.

After discreetly taking a quick look around, Jack held out the knife to you, hilt first. He looked into your eyes. “Grab it.”

You released a breath and, for the first time, took it in your hand. You held it at the angle you would’ve needed to stab the knife downward. As if you had really stabbed that man.

Then Jack took the knife back.

“It’s cut and dry this way,” he told you. “Self-defense.”

You nodded, even though you regretted the motion immediately. The left side of your head ached terribly.

“This place is still going to be a crime scene when we get you out of the hospital,” Jack realized.

“I could ask Bobby if I could stay with him,” you said.

“No,” Jack said firmly. “The last thing you need is to be around that drunken idiot. No, you can stay with Jody Mills. She’s good people.”

“Dad,” you tried, but he was already calling Jody over.

“Hey Jody, can she stay with you tomorrow? I’ll bring her over once we’re done at the hospital tonight,” Jack said. Jody nodded and rested a hand on your shoulder.

“Of course, hun. Call me when you’re on your way,” she said. Jack nodded, and Jody got back into the fray of policework in your house.

You glared at him. “I’m not a kid. I can make my own decisions.”

Though you rubbed at your aching head. Jack ushered you to the ambulance and the paramedics strapped you in.

On the bumpy ride to the hospital, you felt terrible. Not just because your body was a walking welt, but because you shut him out of your mind. Whatever his name was.

You craved feeling his presence. Even though you still didn’t know what your soulmate looked like, you could imagine what it would be like to be held by him. Comforted, safe, with that deep voice like rich whiskey and still somewhat boyish, to tease a smile onto your face.

You wanted to open the connection and say, I’m sorry.

You almost did. But right now, you were a coward that let your fear win.

You kept the connection closed.

The next morning, Sam and Bobby sat at the kitchen table with mugs of coffee. They shared a mixed look of confusion and annoyance as they watched Dean make a pan of scrambled eggs.

It was the aggressive stirring and none-too gentle banging of various spices and cooking utensils that had them concerned (and significantly weirded out).

When Dean served up the food and set down their plates with a clang, Sam looked up at his brother with a raised brow. Dean didn’t notice though. He just sat down and tasted the eggs. A bit dry. Goddamn it.

“Dean?” Sam tried.

“What?”

“What’s up with you?”

“Nothing,” Dean said. Even he knew it wasn’t convincing, but he didn’t care. His mind was too preoccupied with what happened with you last night. His connection with you was still on radio silence. He heard and sensed nothing at all…

And he was worried.

He debated going through the old-school yellow pages for every person with your name in Sioux Falls, but that could be hundreds. And he didn’t know your last name, or anything concrete about you except…

Shit, I’m a freakin’ genius! he thought. Dean remembered one thing: you were a student at the University of South Dakota. History major.

“Well, I’m gonna head out,” Bobby said. “Got a sixteen-wheeler to fish out of a gutter.”

He purposefully didn’t mention the tense atmosphere, but he gave Sam a look. Work it out, it said.

Dean turned to his brother after finishing up his coffee. “Look, before we hit the road, I’ve got something to take care of.”

“Oh yeah? Is it whatever’s got you on edge right now?” Sam asked.

Dean kept a stubborn lid on it. “It’s just an errand I’ve gotta run.”

“Uh-uh.” Sam shook his head. “What’s going on with you? Where are you going?”

Dean got up and ignored his brother’s questions. He didn’t know why his instinct was to keep this to himself, but it was easier than explaining the mess he’d gotten himself into.

Sam followed him into the living room and watched Dean grab his phone and the keys to the Impala. So Sam grabbed his wallet and phone too.

Dean shot him a firm look. “Stay here, Sam. It’s no big deal.”

“If it’s no big deal, then I’ll just come with.”

Dean made a sound of aggravation. Sometimes, Sam could be a massive pain in the ass. Dean’s lips were tight as he left Bobby’s house and headed for the Impala. Sam was hot on his heels. They got into the car and soon enough, Dean drove onto the highway going south.

“So where’re we going?” Sam asked.

Dean shot him an annoyed look, but his brother was unrepentant. So he gave up. “To the university.”

Sam had to think for a moment. “Of South Dakota?”

“That’s the one,” Dean said flatly. He stared out at the road ahead.

Sam had a feeling this wasn’t hunting-related, or Dad-related.

“What, are you scoping out chicks or something?” he asked, only half serious. He watched his older brother’s expression tighten.

“Not exactly.”

“What does that mean?”

Dean glanced at Sam, then made a sound of both frustration and defeat. “Chick. Not chicks.”

“Excuse me?”

“As in singular chick,” Dean emphasized. “A girl, Sam. My…well, not my. Not yet anyway—”

“Dean,” Sam interjected. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“I’m looking for someone, okay?” Dean snapped. “You could say I’ve been hearing thoughts that ain’t mine, if you catch my drift.”

For a moment, Sam couldn’t compute. He stared at the side of Dean’s face, burning a hole in his head.

“Damn it, would you just say something? My head’s about to spontaneously combust,” Dean snarked.

“Your soulmate?” Sam clarified. “Your damn soulmate. You couldn’t just tell me that?”

Dean shot him a defensive look. “It’s a little personal.”

Sam released a frustrated sigh.

“Fine. You know where she is?”

“Kind of,” Dean admitted. “We haven’t met in person yet.”

Sam blinked in confusion. “Okay…this still doesn’t entirely explain why you’ve been so on edge. Damn near crazy.”

Dean hesitated, but eventually he explained.

“Something happened to her last night. Some guy broke into her house.”

Sam frowned in concern. “Is she okay?”

“She’s fine. Well, she’s alive. But she isn’t fine,” Dean said. “Anyway, I just want to be sure.”

Sam’s eyes widened a fraction, both incredulous and recognizing his brother’s knack for downplaying these things, like he had with Cassie.

Well, it didn’t matter. Sam wasn’t going to let Dean let go of his happiness this time. 

After you were cleared to go home from the hospital with a concussion, but nothing else majorly wrong, your dad dropped you off at Jody Mills’ house.

You liked Jody, but you didn’t appreciate your dad controlling the situation—and by extension your life, as he usually tried to do.

So once you’d said goodbye to Jody and her husband when they left for work (and to drop their son off at pre-school), you took your keys that Jack had left you, grabbed your bag, and snuck out of the house.

It was more effort than you should’ve exerted, but you walked the two blocks home. Then you grabbed some more clothes, toiletries, and your car keys.

While the brothers Winchester searched for the university’s History department, Dean continued to beat himself up internally. Sam noticed his brother’s less than peppy attitude and shot him a questioning look.

“I should’ve just gone to meet her the first night she reached out,” Dean muttered. “I should’ve told her my name, at least.”

He should’ve reached out four years ago, when he had the chance.

“You didn’t even tell her your name?” Sam asked. His surprise was followed closely by anger. “You’ve got a chance here that not many people get in life, and you’ve been playing games.”

“I’m not fucking playing,” Dean shot back. “Do I really gotta remind you what Dad went through after Mom died? Not to mention how freakin’ insane our lives are. How can I seriously bring someone else into this?”

Sam understood how Dean felt, to a degree. He felt guilty for what happened to Jess every day—for not being there. He’d loved her with everything he had, and he still missed her. He wouldn’t stop hunting the Yellow-Eyed demon until he avenged her.

But he wasn’t like Dean.

Jess hadn’t been his soulmate.

Sam had a feeling Dean was hesitating because of something else. Something deeper than Dad’s example. Something that had a lot more to do with how Dean saw himself.

So as they walked down the hall towards the Dean of Ancient Studies’ office, Sam held Dean back a second by his arm. He was gentle, but firm.

“Dean, most people spend their whole lives looking for this, waiting for this to happen to them,” he said. “How can you shut her out?”

Dean slipped his arm out of Sam’s grip. “Right now, she’s the one shutting me out.”

Sam frowned, but Dean didn’t give him a chance to reply. He followed Dean over to the office and watched him knock on the door.

A woman answered. She looked refined, with her pencil skirt and severe heels. Her thin blonde hair was twisted into a tight bun, peeling back the skin of her face. She also looked irritated to be bothered by anyone.

“Yes?” she asked. Dean glanced up at the name plate on the wall. Dr. Helen Birch.

“Hi there, Dr. Birch. We’re looking for a history major, graduate student,” Dean began. When he gave her your name, she recognized it instantly.

“Yes, she’s my graduate assistant. She’s not in today,” said Dr. Birch. “She had an accident last night, poor thing.”

“Well, wasn’t really an accident,” Dean said, his mouth quirking humorlessly. “Someone broke into her house and attacked her.”

Dr. Birch nodded.

“A hellish thing, to be sure. But she sounded all right on the phone this morning,” she said, adjusting her Prada-framed glasses. She released a hum of a sigh. “Though you know, my husband died last year. I still came to work bright and early the next day.”

Dean’s gaze hardened, and Sam knew the tell-tale signs that his brother was about to lose his temper.

He laid a hand on Dean’s shoulder and cut in quickly, “Well, we’re her cousins. We just wanted to grab some of her things for her.”

Dr. Birch pointed at a room to the left of her office. “That’s her office right there. Give her my best for me.”

“We’ll do that,” Dean smiled thinly, but he allowed Sam to pull him away towards the office. Sam gave him a warning look.

“That lady’s lucky I’m a gentleman,” Dean muttered. “Freakin’ old bag.”

She wasn’t that old, but Sam wasn’t going to point that out.

“Just calm down,” Sam whispered back. They squeezed into the closet-like office and went over to your desk, where Sam sat and opened up your laptop. It was password protected. He worked on cracking it while Dean surveyed your work desk.

It was very organized. Your notebooks were piled neatly with various pens and highlighters in their own container. He felt bad about this, but he looked through the drawers next and found an old picture. He had a feeling it was of your parents when they were young. It was even labeled on the back: Jack and Christine — November 1985.

“Sam.” Dean showed him the picture. Sam nodded, taking the hint. He thought for a moment, then tried Christine as the password.

It wasn’t a match…until he tried Christine85.

Then the home screen finally booted up. From there it wasn’t hard for Sam to get into your email so they could find your full name. Next, he found your address from a PDF scan of a payroll stub in your documents folder.

“You’re too good at that,” Dean said. His guilt was growing; normally he would have no compunctions about rifling through people’s junk, but this was your stuff. They were invading your privacy to the nth degree. This is an emergency, he rationalized.

“There,” Sam said, after taking pictures with his phone. They knew exactly who you were and where you lived.

“How do you want to play this?” Sam asked, once he and Dean were on the road back to Sioux Falls.

“Let me handle this,” Dean said. It was a delicate thing. Their plan was essentially dropping in on you, whom he’d never officially met, after stealing your private information. Not to mention, you’d already gone through a lot in the past 24 hours.

Dean shook his head. “Let’s just regroup at Bobby’s. I’ve gotta think.”

An hour later, they were pulling into the driveway at Singer Salvage. Next to Bobby’s truck was a blue Camaro.

“I guess his niece dropped by again,” Sam said. Dean was curious, but that was quickly swallowed up by his ever-mounting problem: going to see you. How the hell am I gonna do this?

His mind was so consumed when they walked in, that he almost missed seeing Bobby’s guest in the kitchen.

You were sitting with Bobby at the kitchen table, drinking lemonade. Sam and Dean shared a curious look though, because you had a bandage on your left temple and scattered bruises on your neck and arms, but you still looked friendly, casually dressed in jeans and a soft college shirt.

Dean noticed your pretty face, the shade of your hair, your curves…but he narrowed in on the shirt. It read University of South Dakota.

His heart started to beat faster, though he didn’t realize it.

“Boys, this here’s my niece,” Bobby said. When you stood up and greeted them with your name, Dean knew it was you—the girl he’d practically been scouring the entire state for.

His brain caught up with his heart, which had already recognized you from the second he stepped through the door. Your name fell from his lips, and then your head tilted curiously, like you’d recognized his voice.

Finally, finally, the bond between your souls flared in his mind and warmed through his chest. You’d opened the connection again, and he felt your shock, your recognition, your wonder. Dean grabbed ahold of that pulsing thread of energy.

Hi, sweetheart, he said with a crooked smile. Except, you didn’t exactly have the reaction he was expecting.

You gasped and nearly dropped your drink.

All three men lunged to help you, but you caught the glass yourself. “I got it!”

You then set it down carefully on the table.

“What’s happening here?” Bobby asked. He seemed very confused. Dean couldn’t blame him. He only just now realized that Sam and Bobby were still in the room watching their little movie play out.

Bobby turned to you next. “You know Sam and Dean?”

You wiped your hands on your jeans, looking embarrassed. You gestured vaguely at Dean. “Well, just…kind of…”

“Me,” Dean said, pointing at himself, then at you. “I’m…we’re…”

Because Bobby was smart and intuitive, his face slackened in realization. “Hells fuckin’ bells.”

“Yeah,” Sam nodded with a smile.

Meanwhile, you and Dean took each other in. Slowly you approached each other from opposite sides of the room.

Your gaze fell to the cut on his hand, which he’d bandaged up last night.

“Are you okay?”

Dean gave you a rueful look. “I’m the one who needs to ask you that.”

Your eyes lowered as you bit your lip. “I’m fine.”

Dean would be the judge of that. He drew close enough to examine the gauze bandage on your head. His hand raised to ghost along the bruises on your neck. It stirred his protective, righteous anger again, but he did his best to put a clamp on it for your sake. You were a scrapper, a survivor, and for that he was proud of you.

“Are you in pain?” he asked.

“The meds work just fine,” you said with a smile, but it soon fell as you chanced looking up at him. Dean looked into your eyes for the first time. They were beautiful, but sad and contrite.

“I’m sorry for shutting you out,” you said.

Dean huffed. “Yeah, that wasn’t pleasant.”

Behind him, Sam snorted and gave his brother a pointed look, which Dean ignored.

“I know. I was just…scared,” you admitted, gesturing with a hand to your injuries. “I didn’t want this to be the way we finally met.” 

Dean could understand that. He reached out and tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

“Still, can we keep the heart attacks to a minimum?”

You smiled again, and it reminded him of all the times you’d teased him through his mental connection with you. “No promises.”

Then you stared up at him with more of that wonder on your face.

“What?” Dean quirked a smile. You were starting to blush; he could see the faint pinkness spreading across your cheeks.

“You’re…tall,” you said.

Dean grinned. “Just tall?”

You crossed your arms in amusement. “And other stuff.”

“Yeah, that’s nice. Poetry, really,” he teased. “Definitely uh, putting that college stuff to good use.”

Sighing a laugh, you covered your face with a hand, fighting further embarrassment. It made Dean chuckle.

“All right, just teasing,” he said. “No need to hide.” He bypassed your hand to prop a finger beneath your chin so he could see your face. You met his gaze, waiting somewhat patiently while he looked you over. He could feel the heat rising off your cheeks though, and his smile deepened. You were adorable, and all too easy to tease.

But you were also beautiful.

Without really thinking about what he was doing, Dean found himself leaning down to brush his lips with yours—

Until your voice stopped him. “I, um, have to go. Take a shower.”

Your eyes were wide and somewhat nervous. Dean backed off, cursing inwardly at himself. His hand fell from your face.

“Okay,” he said slowly. “Need help?”

Your lips fell open in a soft “o” shape. Once Dean realized what he’d said, shock gripped both of you.

“Up the stairs,” he clarified. “The shower’s upstairs.”

Behind him, Sam made a pained face—like he was watching a car wreck and couldn’t stop. It made you smile, despite your lingering embarrassment.

But for Sam, he’d never seen his brother tripping up this bad over a girl. Usually he prided himself on being “Señor Smooth” (Dean’s words, not Sam’s).

Meanwhile behind you, Bobby rolled his eyes at you both.

“Sure, thank you,” you said.

You took Dean’s hand as he led you up the stairs. Maybe you shouldn’t have been trying to climb stairs with a concussion, but the pain medication really was helping you enough to be functional. Besides, Dean was supportive and went slow to help you.

When you made it to the top, you let go of Dean’s hand to grab your bag of clothing from the guest bedroom. When you came back, Dean was still waiting outside the bathroom with his hands in his pockets.

He really was tall, you thought. His grip while helping you had been gentle, but you’d felt the strength in his arms. You knew he wasn’t going to let you fall.

There were so many things about him that you hadn’t expected. His green eyes and sandy brown hair, his boyish, charming smile, his confident swagger, his lips…

“I’m sorry for putting Sam out of his room,” you said, mostly so you would stop staring. Dean rubbed the back of his neck.

“Nah, Sam’s like a dog. He can sleep anywhere,” he said. “On the floor, even.”

You laughed, though you tried not to at Sam’s expense. Dean smiled at the attempt.

“So, you’re Dean, the traveling exterminator,” you said.

His smile kicked up into a smirk. “Guilty.”

Your lips curved, a bit shy, but also a bit mischievous. He had spent a long time playing games with you. Now it was your turn.

You leaned up toward him on the tips of your toes, so you could reach his lips. With a raised brow, his body bowed towards you.

Once your lips were just a whisper away from his, you stopped.

“Good,” you said simply.

And you closed the bathroom door in his face.

AN: Okay, so an action-packed chapter for ya. And yay, they finally meet! Dean also encounters the infamous Dr. Birch, Jody Mills makes a brief cameo, plus Sam being a supportive brother.

One thing I want to note, in case people have questions about "Jess not being Sam's soulmate" here. I just really couldn't do that to him (losing his soulmate in his 20s on top of everything else). It was really so I could keep things open for Sam, not anything against Jess as a character.

That being said, let me know what you think about the first meeting!

To keep reading: PART 6

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[plainviewwelcomesyou]

Sit the closet one

You play it safe and just sit in the one closest to you.

LUCIA CELEBRATION: Ya know what we like to do here, kid? We like to have ourselves a good load’a fun. And hey - what’s more fun than a lil’ game? So let’s play a lil’ game called “Who’s Who”. Need I explain more?

You shake your head ‘no’.

LUCIA CELEBRATION: Good. Ya already know ya place.

LUCIA CELEBRATION: Obviously -

He puts his hands on his chest.

LUCIA CELEBRATION: There’s me. Good ol’ Lucia Celebration, the one ‘n’ only Birthday King. When things get run, I’m the one runnin’ em. ‘Head honcho’, ‘big shot’, whateva’ words ya have to sum up “the guy in charge”.

LUCIA CELEBRATION: And over there,

He points to another member. This one bearing the resemblance of a three-headed fish.

LUCIA CELEBRATION: Is-

IMAGIO DIATRIBE: HARK! FOR I AM IMAGIO DIATRIBE, ORDERER OF THE GUNCH!!! YOU, LOWLY RECRUIT, HAVE BEEN COMPLETELY STRIPPED OF INDIVIDUALITY, AND IT’S ALL THANKS TO ME!!!! ME AND THE GUNCH, OH THAT MAGNIFICENT MACHINE THAT I ALONE BUILT TO PEEL AT THE FREEDOM OF THE MIND - THAT’S RIGHT, THE GUNCH AND ME!!! SO TO HELL WITH THE TULSE AND HER INFERIOR ROBOT CREATIONS, WHO’S LAUGHING NOW YOU FUC-

LUCIA CELEBRATION: Imagio would you please get off of the table.

Imagio is, in fact, on the table.

IMAGIO DIATRIBE: OH.

Imagio is no longer on the table.

LUCIA CELEBRATION: Now, for someone who actually knows how to ACT correctly - Mx. Adelias, would you do the honors?

The bird-like being closes the fan that had once been obscuring their face, revealing a suave, put-together appearance.

EIDELIAS ADELIAS: Charmed to. Hello, dear - you can call me Eidelias Adelias, or going by my title, ‘Official Birthday Party Supervisor of Spectacle’.

IMAGIO DIATRIBE: THERE THEY GO, “OFFICIAL BLEHBLEHBLEHBLEEEE”- WEAR IT OUT, WILL YOU?!

EIDELIAS ADELIAS: Imagio, for the self described ‘pillar of control’ you certainly don’t have the best grasp on controlling yourself~

IMAGIO DIATRIBE: I WILL RIP YOU APART YOU LITTL-

LUCIA CELEBRATION: MR. DIATRIBE I CAN AND WILL RETURN THAT PUNY LITTLE PIPE ORGAN OF YOURS IF YOU KEEP THIS UP!

Imagio gets teary in all three pairs of eyes.

IMAGIO DIATRIBE: MY ORGAN??? MY PRICELESS ORGAN?!

IMAGIO DIATRIBE: THE ONE BOUND OF PIXIE-SILVER AND THE FINEST BIRCH?!

IMAGIO DIATRIBE: I-I SWEAR UP AND DOWN ON MY LIFE, SIR, MOTHER GOSS FORGIVE MY SOUL, I’LL BEHAVE! I’LL BEHAVE!!!! I PROFUSELY APOLOGIZE FOR EEEEVERYTHING!!!!!!! I’M SO SORRY FOR EVER TORMENTING YOU WITH QUARELLSOME NOTHINGS!!!! I DIDN’T MEAAAAN ITTTTTT!!!!!

The fish - or fishes - turns into a shaky mess of incoherent tears. At least she’s not talking anymore, and that seems to be good enough for Lucia.

LUCIA CELEBRATION: B.B., would you-

EIDELIAS ADELIAS: I regret to inform you that it appears that B.B is absent from today’s gathering. In the Gauntlet, I presume.

Lucia looks over to an empty chair, the one meant for B.B.

LUCIA CELEBRATION: RIGHT. RUNNIN’ THE GAUNTLET. YEAH.

LUCIA CELEBRATION: PHINEAS GEARSHIFT?!

An elderly half-mechanized snail-man sitting across from you wakes up from somehow being able to sleep through all this.

PHINEAS GEARSHIFT: HUH? BWHUH? HUH?!!

LUCIA CELEBRATION: READ. WHAT’S ON. THE PAGE.

PHINEAS GEARSHIFT: Oh.

Mr. Gearshift shuffles paperwork around, before reading off one sheet in particular.

PHINEAS GEARSHIFT: ‘My name is Phineas Gearshift, owner of Gearshift Incorporated and a … gl…GLAD endorser of The Birthday Party. As the appointed Old Money Manager of this fine establishment of hardworking individuals, I proudly back the Birthday Party with…MILLIONS of my own dollars…each. Year.’ That good enough fer ‘ya?

LUCIA CELEBRATION: It works.

Little Man sits up from one of the member chairs - shocking you that he even has a chair at all. But, his name is on a plaque, so..?

LITTLE MAN: DHDHDGSGSGSHSSJAHSHSHSSHHSNSNSBSBSJSHSGSBSKSJSJSBJSSJHSHAHSJSJSSHHEBBEJESHSHJSJSJSSBSHSBSSBSISHSH

LUCIA CELEBRATION: …Wisely said, Lil’ guy.

IMAGIO DIATRIBE: WAIT WHY DOES HE HAVE A SEA-

LUCIA CELEBRATION: Shuttup AND LASTLY, THE STAR OF THE SHOW - CINNAFUN SWIRL HERSELF!

Cinnafun laughs and waves awkwardly, looking incredibly uncomfortable for such a confident pop star.

CINNAFUN SWIRL: Ummm. Hiii~iiii. I’m Cinnafun Swirl, and….I….I’m the appointed Diva of Doom, and….~ Ha. Yeah. That’s me. Hi.

LUCIA CELEBRATION: That’s ‘em all, then. Finally. New guy, is there ANYTHING you need me to repeat on that front?! ANYTHING AT ALL?!

(No, we… we can move on.)

(YOU PEOPLE HAVE PROBLEMS.)

[50calmadeuce]

Ch. 10: The Rest of the Week

Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction using characters from the Top Gun: Maverick world, trademarked by Paramount Pictures Corporation. I do not claim ownership of the characters and the world that I am borrowing.

The story and situation I am creating are a work of my own imagination and I do not ascribe them to official story canon. This work is for entertainment only and is not a part of the storyline.

I am not profiting financially from the creation and publication of this story, so please do not copy it and claim it as your own. As always, I hope it gives you happy thoughts :)

The rest of the week went really fast. Thursday the four of you went to the Birch Aquarium.

Friday, the four of you strolled through the San Diego Zoo. Jake carried Christian on his shoulders as you and Phoenix walked slowly behind. You push the stroller.

Phoenix watched Jake and Christian in awe. "I just don't know what to say. He's the cockiest person I've ever met and you," She looks at you. "I don't know what you did." She goes back to observing Jake and Christian. "And C.J. adores Jake just as much as Jake adores him."

You look at Jake crouching down and looking at the bears with Christian.

"You don't think I'm moving too fast, do you?" You stop walking and Phoenix looks at you.

"Y/N. I know Christian was your life." She looked at Jake and little Christian. "And you got lucky, and he left you a wonderful gift, but you deserve to be happy too. How Jake did it, I don't know, but if you're happy, then I'm happy for you."

"Thanks, Tosh." You hug and then hear the pitter patter of little feet running up to you and Phoenix. Jake not far behind.

"Ant Tosh! Come see!" Christian yells as he runs up to Phoenix and she lifts him up. He points at the bear exhibit he was just at with Jake.

"What is it?"

"Bears!"

"Bears? Well, let's go check it out." She carries Christian back over to the bear exhibit and Jake stays behind. You both watch Phoenix and Christian.

Jake looks at you. "He loves his animals."

"That he does."

"Just like his momma."

You smile and shrug. "Maybe."

The two of you start walking toward Phoenix and Christian. When you reach them, Christian yawns and reaches out for Jake, who gladly takes him.

"Yake?"

"Yeah, bud?"

Christian rubs his eyes. "Tired."

You look at your watch. It is his nap time. "You want to go in your stroller?"

Christian grips Jake harder. "No! Yake!" He turns his head away from you and lays it on Jakes shoulder.

"It's okay. I got him," Jake assures you as you continue to walk through the zoo.

Later that night, you joined Phoenix and Jake at The Hard Deck. Amelia, the daughter of Penny Benjamin who owns the bar, offered to watch Christian for you.

As you sipped on your wine cooler, you sat next to Phoenix's weapons system officer Robert 'Bob' Floyd and watched Jake playing pool.

"It's nice to officially meet you," Bob says.

"You too. Phoenix speaks very highly of you."

"Hey, Bob. Don't be trying to steal my woman over there," Jake cautions after taking a pool shot.

You beam with a glint of mischief in your eyes. "Why Jake 'Hangman' Seresin. This is news to me."

Jake stood up, flabbergasted.

"Darlin. I believe everyone in this bar is aware of that." He starts walking towards you.

"I wasn't."

"The hell you weren't." He pulls you to him and kisses you deeply.

The bar goes crazy.

[lostinwildflowers]

Summary: It's Sakusa Kiyoomi's first day working on the farm, and you are showing him how to feed the horses and muck out the stalls.

Word Count: 2.4K

Warnings: angst, enemies to lovers, swearing, farm work(as if it needs a tag, but some of yall are afraid of physical labor)

A/N: Well here we are with the first official chapter of this series! I hope y'all enjoy the angstiness of this chapter! -Birch<3

Previous: Prologue

Next: Hay

The sound of a rooster’s crow and your alarm clock ringing jolt you awake from your sleep, and a groan leaves your lips as your hand wanders through the darkness of your room to turn off the annoying beeping.

It was early in the morning, around 6 a.m. and it was time to start life on the farm. You crawl out of your bed and stumble over to your dresser, where you find a pair of jeans and a t-shirt that you slip on sleepily.

You attempt at taming your hair a little bit before opening your door with a yawn, heading to the kitchen to grab a quick breakfast. No one else seemed to be up yet, so you quietly make a pot of coffee and grab an apple to munch on as you scroll through your phone, waiting for Sakusa.

The dark-haired male was nowhere to be seen, and you frown at the clock on the wall as it read 6:30. With a sigh, you set down your apple and coffee and walk down the hallway to where Sakusa was staying.

You knock on the door harshly three times, placing your hands on your hips as you await a response. There isn’t any movement for a minute or so, and as you are about to call out and bang on the door again, it creaks open and you are met face to face with a half-asleep Sakusa.

His curls were wild and untamed, his eyes half-lidded as he looked down at you, rubbing at one of them as he groans, “Why the hell are you awake? It’s too damn early to be up.”

You roll your eyes in annoyance, opening your mouth to speak before you are distracted by his outfit. He was wearing a simple grey pair of basketball shorts, but also only had a fitted black tank top on. You got a good look at his arms as he rested one against the door frame, awaiting your response.

You tear your eyes away from him as you grumble out, “Life on the farm starts early around here, and it’s time to go feed the horses and muck out their stalls. I’ll meet you out in the barn. 15 minutes, don’t be late.”

Sakusa just scoffs and shuts the door on you, and you huff indignantly as you turn on your heel, storming out of the house and toward the barn. The sun was barely rising over the tops of the hills as you pull open the barn doors, and you are greeted by soft nickers and neighs as the horses hear your footsteps.

You smile softly as you run your hand over their noses’ as you walk by, eyes trained on the feed room as you walk down the barn aisle. You grab all of the feed buckets for the horses, scooping the oats and grains into them before turning to find the supplements for each one.

As you are reaching for the joint supplement, you hear footsteps outside of the barn, and you peer around the door frame to see who it was. To your disappointment, it was just another one of the farmhands, Kita Shinsuke, who was always around first thing in the morning.

Kita waves at you as he grabs a few lead ropes and calls out, “Morning, Y/n! I’m going to go ahead and put the donkeys out to pasture awhile, I can feed them from outside.”

You give him a thumbs-up back, turning your attention back to the supplements. You add small scoops to each specific bucket, making sure all of the older horses got their joint and hoof supplements and that the younger horses didn’t get any sweet feed.

By the time all of the horses have gotten their grain and waters refilled, you were making your way to the hayloft to throw down hay for the horses. You were getting increasingly annoyed as Sakusa didn’t show up, and you could feel your temper starting to bubble as you recall your first interaction with the city boy.

You had already thrown down hay to one of the horses when you see Sakusa emerge from the house, donned in a loose t-shirt, skinny jeans, and clean, white sneakers. You huff as he leisurely walks over to the barn, scowling at the horses as he searches for you.

“Up here,” you call down from the loft, and Sakusa looks up to see you peering down at him from above one of the stalls. He simply tsks, walking toward the steps leading to the hayloft with his hands in his pockets, eyes sharp as they look around him.

When he finally gets up next to you, you finish pushing the hay down to the next horse, and you look him up and down with an unimpressed expression on your face. You move around him, walking over to where the next horse’s stall starts as you say, “You’re late. This is how you do hay.”

You point to the large square-shaped bale next to the hole in the floor and state, “That’s the hay we feed the horses. Each horse gets 1-2 flakes of hay each morning and evening, and occasionally some throughout the day.”

You section off a chunk and show him, “You can tell it’s a flake by the way it sticks together. Then,” you say as you move around to the opening of the hole, “You drop it down into their stalls.”

At the end of your words, you release the hay into the stall below you, the small strands pluming up a little as they hit the ground. The bay mare in the stall snorts and immediately goes over to the hay, nibbling on it as you back up from the ledge.

You put your hands on your hips and shrug your shoulders, “It’s not too hard, you do the next one.” Sakusa glances at you disinterestedly, and you point to the next stall and say, “Go on, it’s your turn.”

Sakusa does as you say, grabbing the hay and chucking it haphazardly down into the stall below him. You can see some of the hay fall into the aisle and you call, “Hey, watch where you are throwing that a little bit more, we’ll have to go down and sweep up that loose hay so no one slips on it. Go ahead and do the last two stalls.”

He begrudgingly continues, dropping the hay down as you count how many bales you used today. Whenever he’s done, you nod back to the steps and say, “Let’s go sweep up that hay, and then we can get started on stalls.”

Sakusa just groans, and you roll your eyes at him as you jog down the steps from the hayloft, locating a broom to quickly sweep up the hay. You point to the pile you made and then gesture to the horse stall in front of it.

“Start grabbing handfuls of hay and tossing it into that stall, old Suzie needs to get fat with extra hay,” you say as you pet the nose of the soft chestnut mare with a smile.

The lean figure of Sakusa moves slowly, reaching down to grab an armful of hay before slowly dropping it over the lip of the stall. Sakusa’s eyes were hesitant and he frowned at the mare as she swung her head to look at him.

As the hay hits the ground in the stall, it plumes up some dust, so the old mare snorts in response, thusly covering Sakusa with her snot.

The black-haired male freezes, his mouth falling open in shock and disgust as you start cackling in the background. His limbs are taut and unmoving as he scowls at the horse and growls, “You filthy animal, look what you’ve done. You are absolutely horrendous!”

You roll your eyes as you finish scooping up the hay and putting it into the kind mare’s stall. With another point behind you, you state, “C’mon, city boy. Time to show you how to pick stalls.”

“I’m not touching that shit,” the snap comes, a deep voice hardened with rage and anger. Sakusa’s arms are crossed in front of his chest, his nose rudely turned up at you as his gaze avoids the empty stall full of manure and urine from one of the horses.

You throw your hands up exasperatedly and state, “Stop being such a wimp, if you are going to be spending the entire summer here, you might as well get over yourself!”

A cruel laugh falls from Sakusa’s lips as he takes a threatening step forward, and he shoves a finger in your face as he growls, “Get over myself? How about you get over yourself? All I hear is “Go do this! Go do that!” Holy hell am I tired of you already, I don’t take orders from a hick girl.”

Sakusa’s words sound out loudly, booming and echoing through your head as you flinch away from his hand, (colored) eyes wide with hurt. You take a shaky step backward, heading toward the door of the barn before a strong and firm hand lands on your shoulder.

You glance up to see your father, the farmer, whose gaze was set on the stuck-up and rich boy in front of him with a fire in his eyes. His lips barely part as he states, “You will clean the stalls, listen to my daughter, and change your attitude. Otherwise, your life is going to become a living hell quickly, son.”

After that, Sakusa begrudgingly agrees, silently listening and watching you pick one stall to understand how to sift through the fine shavings to get the manure out. He would never admit it, but you were a pretty good teacher, and every movement you made seemed like second nature.

Once it was finally Sakusa’s turn, you left him to pick the stalls while you grabbed horses to put out to pasture. First, you lead out Suzie, and her best friend Allie, who was another old and bay-colored mare.

You shut the gate behind the two of them as they trot away from you, running a few feet before stopping and dropping their heads to the ground, where they begin munching on grass. A small chuckle leaves your lips before you head back to the barn, your hands finding your pockets.

When you enter the aisle, Sakusa has done a few more stalls, and the wheelbarrow he was using was full to the brim. Sakusa brings the bottom of his t-shirt up to wipe the sweat off of his face, giving you a small show of the firm abs he was hiding under his t-shirt.

You find your gaze lingering too long, and you yell at yourself mentally before you walk up to Sakusa and say, “Since you filled up the wheelbarrow, I’ll go ahead and show you where to dump it.”

At that, you motion for him to follow you, and you turn on your heel without another word as you make your way out of the back set of barn doors facing the pastures. You hear footsteps behind you followed by the sound of the wheelbarrow and you smirk slightly as you head toward the large manure pile.

When you arrive in front of the pile, you cross your arms with a knowing smirk as you say, “Alrighty, you can go ahead and dump the manure up there with the rest of it.”

Sakusa gives you a look that screams “Are you fucking serious?” and you just nod toward the pile in response. A slight breeze blows through, and the smell of hot manure wafts over the two of you.

You don’t seem to mind, of course, you were used to the foul stench after years of working on the farm. Sakusa, however, was not prepared, and couldn’t help the way he involuntarily gagged at the smell.

You can’t stop the laugh that leaves your lips as he attempts to cover his nose with his shirt and you just motion to the pile and giggle, “Get on with it, city boy.”

Sakusa shoots you a death glare before rolling the wheelbarrow forward, his eyes scrunching as he nears the rest of the large pile. Small but sure footsteps lead him to the large manure pile and he coughs as he tips the wheelbarrow over, allowing the contents to slide out and onto the ground.

However, Sakusa wasn’t careful enough and some of the wet sawdust and horse poop landed on his clean, white new sneakers. Sakusa gapes offendedly at his shoes, his face growing pale as he once again gags at the smell.

You can’t control the giggles falling from your lips now, your arms wrapping around your waist as you snort and chortle at his disgusted expression.

Sakusa whips around to look at you, murder in his eyes as his cheeks start to flush red, embarrassed that you’ve seen him out of his element. His face pulls into a deeper set frown and he grumbles, “Stop your laughing, it’s not that funny.”

With a pout on his lips, he finishes dumping the wheelbarrow before rolling it back toward the barn, thankful his back was finally facing you as he tried to calm the furious red on his cheeks.

Sakusa sets the wheelbarrow down outside of the next stall, looking over his shoulder before sighing. He would never admit it out loud, but you looked really cute when you laughed.

He hears your footsteps rounding the corner of the barn, and he slips into the next stall to start picking it when he hears your voice call out to him.

You appear in front of the stall door and smile at him gently then state, “You know, it might not be a bad idea to get a pair of muck boots or cowboy boots. That way you won’t ruin your sneakers.”

Sakusa blinks at you in surprise and before he can answer you, you smack the stall door lightly and say, “Well I’m going to finish putting the rest of the horses out, just keep doing what you’re doing.”

At that, you turn and walk down the aisle, stopping at a stall to slip on the halter of a feisty grey gelding, and then leading him down through the barn and out to the pasture.

You don’t feel Sakusa’s eyes on you as you leave, but the dark-haired male had a look of interest in his eye as you walked out. And you didn’t leave his mind all day.

Tag list: @shoyotime @atsunjali @kiyoomi-isbae @notendoplasm @animated-moon

[milk-carton-whump]

@tears-and-lilies requested a sequel to Benett's Price so here's a part 2!

Tagging: @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @cowboy-anon @tears-and-lilies @unicornscotty @albino-whumpee @sideblogformindtrash @heathenwhump @myst-in-the-mirror @whumpasaurus101

CW: pet whump, captivity, kidnapping, human trafficking tw, beginnings of dehumanization, collar, begging, isolation, emotional whump, dehumanizing language

Benett's Price pt 2

A few days had gone by, looking at the unopened door dashed his hopes everytime so he tried to ignore it. It was a small room but Benett stayed faithfully in the corner, hoping, praying someone would open it and tell him it was a mistake or a prank. Yet, no one did.

From his corner he could see the room, plain and dull with nothing exciting to look at. His eyes stared at the bed, it looked to be bolted to the floor and had a mattress as thin as a broken down cardboard box. Next to the bed was a plush and very comfortable looking dog bed, he knew what it meant and it would be admitting he was officially part of the program if he dared lay on it. 

"It's a long and delicate process but eventually all applicants are ready for training." The words of Doctor Birch replayed in his head, there was no way in hell he would submit to this, not willingly. 

He'd studied their training, the inner workings of the company, and the basics of what a pet's life behind these walls was going to be like. Now, he hoped it was enough to convince them to let him go. 

Another day passed, at least he was sure it did and finally something happened. At the bottom of the door, a flap opened and some plain tasteless looking food was pushed in along with a folded set of clothes. Benett scrambled to his feet.

"Hey!! Help! Help please!! I… I don't belong in here! Please!!" He yelled as he dropped back to his knees to be as close to the opening in the door as possible. 

It quickly shut and he could hear the sound of it locking on the other end. His fingers desperately clawed at the small door, hoping to force it open. 

All signs of outside life disappeared, once more leaving him completely alone. He looked at the food, unsure food really fit what he was looking at. He looked away as he felt his stomach turn and saw he had also been provided a bowl of water. He wasn't a pet, this was a mistake and they had the wrong person. 

Benett got up and paced, looking for a better way out. The walls were smooth, objects were secured to the walls and floor. There was an air vent but it was well above him on the ceiling, making him groan in frustration. He slammed his fists against the wall, letting out a loud scream before sinking to his knees where tears rolled down his cheeks. 

The college student felt trapped and betrayed, not knowing why this had happened to him, what had he done? Someone had betrayed him, told the company he wanted to be a pet in their program, but that wasn't true. He never wanted to be on this side of the door, be treated like an animal, and worst of all he was completely alone. 

He wiped some of the tears from his face and looked at the bland food they provided, he didn't plan on eating it. He knew what it was and what it tasted like, his classes had provided him that knowledge. Now turning his attention to the perfectly folded clothes that had come with the meal, he noticed something new. 

His hand reached out and picked it up, fingers now trembling as he looked at the object. A thin but strong circle of metal with a series of letters and numbers printed on it, now sat heavily in his hands. If he put it on willingly, he accepted his fate. He wouldn't do that, he was a person with a family and friends. 

The worst thing was reading the printed code on the collar, he knew what it meant. Studying long hours and going over it in class had taught him exactly what each part of the coding meant. 

K-9, he was in the dog program, trained to be dog-like in movement, thought, and action. It was the most well known of the types of pets the Company trained. LAP, this made him shiver just to read it. It was what he would be trained to specialize in, in short, he was a family dog meant to be a companion. Last he looked at the numbers, 412, he was suddenly nauseous at the thought of being someone's pet, throwing the collar down and scooting away. 

The next days came and went the same, the food was replaced but he never ate it, choosing to starve instead. On the… he'd lost track of what day it was, the door actually opened and Doctor Birch stepped in. 

"K-9-LAP412, according to your charts, you aren't eating. We'll fix that for you today… well also make sure you're properly ready to begin the first part of your training." She said with a smile. 

"Doctor Birch… please. You…. You know I don't belong here, I need to go back to my classes and .. and go home. Please. I don't belong here, I'm not supposed to be here!" Benett begging on his knees, hoping she would change her mind and take him out of this place. 

"Get away from me, dog. You'll learn your place and you will go home… there's a family who's already got you picked out and purchased." 

Benett's heart dropped as he heard those words, that's why he was here. Someone had him already picked out. 

[has-gilgamesh-doneanythingwrong]

Learning how to use the runes with Caster Cu (FGO)

I spent 6 hrs writing the most shamelessly self-indulgent headcanons ever Here, Caster will teach the FGO master the basics of the runes. Follow the master as they learn a bit about their origins, face rigorous testing, make their own set of runes; and use them for the very first time!

*Disclaimer: These headcanons will focus on the use of the Elder Futhark runes. (In fgo, they use both elder and younger futhark) As I’ve only been researching the Nordic runes for around 9 months, please take these headcanons with a pinch of salt! (also, fgo master will be gender neutral! Please enjoy.)

As soon as you broach the topic to him, Caster Cu’s face pales considerably; as images of Odin hanging upside down on the world tree for 9 days permeate his mind. Hopefully you weren’t asking him if you could do that... you weren't, right?

‘Shit...I knew this day would come.’ Awkwardly lowering his hood over his face (so then he can avoid looking at your expectant expression); Caster sighs. “Ah, yeah...Rune magic. Sure, I’ll teach you later...yeah, later.”

Hoping that his bluff is successful, he tries to dematerialize away as fast as possible. However, once you latch onto his pale blue coat to ask what you should do first, he finally caves in; knowing that there’s no way for him to worm his way out of this perilous situation.

“You know, you could try asking Skadi. Or how about Shishou? There’s a hell of a lot of other servants who know bits and pieces about the runes as well. How about you give ‘em a try first?”

When you admit that you want to learn from him, due to your deep appreciation for his extremely flashy use of the runes; Caster stifles a laugh. Yep, there really was no room for escape now.

“Well, I can’t fault you for that; I do look pretty damn cool in action!” Twirling his staff, Caster strikes a pose. “But I don’t get it. You’re already training in other arts. Why would you wanna load rune magic on top of that? You like drowning yourself in work or something??”

As you excitedly flapped your arms around, explaining how you liked watching him trace sparkling runes with his hands; and wanted to take his tree branch summoning skills for yourself, his eyes widen with surprise. He wasn’t expecting you to be this observant.

“Ah, you mean the Berkana/Berkano (ᛒ) rune? Yeah, that one represents the birch tree, so I can summon it. It also commonly symbolizes new beginnings and fertility...” Caster trails off as your braincells physically implode at his explanation.

Berkana? Birch trees? Fertility?! You had no idea what he was talking about right now. As a dour silence weighs heavily upon the two of you, a lightbulb of inspiration strikes Caster right in the head.

“Oi, master. Read up a little on the runes, and remember at least some of their names first. As your new teacher, that’ll be your first assignment. See ya!” And with that, he was gone, vanishing into thin air. Realizing that he had just agreed to teach you, your face sparkles with glee. Clenching your fists with all of your might, you march towards the library. Time would wait for no man!!!!

Exchanging friendly greetings with Murasaki, as you trundle through an entire emporium of books; it takes hours for you to find a book on the runes. Many of the books were in a language that you couldn’t read, however this one looked rather easy on the eyes.

Titled ‘Easy Rune Magic for Modern Mages’, you flick through a rather simplistic guide that provides you with the names and a single definition for each rune; but it provides you with little to no information on how to truly understand their meaning. With subheadings such as ‘How to use the Fehu (ᚠ) rune to generate wealth to pay for your magecraft PHD at the Clock Tower’ and ‘Is Thurisaz (ᚦ) more effective to use as a defensive spell or curse spell?’ you were officially BAMBOOZLED. Tired, you decide to throw in the towel for today.

However, on your way back to your room, a stroke of excellent luck manifests itself before you. Situated upon a sturdy pine table are none other than Sigurd and Byrnhildr, who are reading together. Although you find this scene to be rather adorable (seeing as they were both entirely intact, with no stabbing wounds to be seen); you decided to interrupt their date anyway.

“O-oh, master...” Byrnhildr blushes, as Sigurd waves politely. “What brings you here today?” Slamming your hands on the table, you passionately declare that you wish to learn more about the runes, but can’t understand them without gaining some insight into their history first. As Brynhildr’s eyes glimmer with a sense of appreciation at your open display of interest of their culture, Sigurd haphazardly pulls out the chair next to them.

“I’m glad to see you profess such a profound interest in the runes, master. Please sit down and join us.” Glasses sparkling ominously, Sigurd explains a little bit more about how the elder futhark runes work. He not only explains how Odin discovered their wisdom after hanging from the world tree Yggdrasil; but also tells you about how Odin shared their power with humankind, making him none other than the ‘Allfather’ of the runes.

At the mention of his name, Byrnhild’s expression sours somewhat; making you realize that the two most likely share personal ties with him.

“They’re a special alphabet that we can use to invoke the power and wisdom of the Norse gods, so be careful with them.”

Sigurd then goes on to explain how all 24 runes are separated into three Aetts- which are basically a means of dividing the runic characters into different categories.

“Each rune comes with a short poem. That way, you’ll be able to understand them and their context a little more.”

Once you thank him for the information, he replies with a “I hope I was of use. I’m very proud of you for asking us for help.”; as Byrnhildr returns with an entire truckload of books tucked within her arms!!!

“These books will be helpful! This one’s about the myths associated with the runes, and this one is a practical guide that’ll help cultivate understanding. As for this one, it explains their etymology.”

Byrnhildr chuckles at your gobsmacked expression, as the two of them heap the books into your own arms. “You don’t need to know everything about them, but it’ll be handy for you to develop a little bit of historical and lexical knowledge as well.”

‘I thought I only had to know their names and descriptions...!!’ Tears pooling within your eyes at the mountain of books, you thank them for their help and leave, as they wish you all the best with your studies (and prayed that one day you’d wish to speak to them in the language as well. They couldn’t wait for that opportunity!)

Sighing all the way back to your room, you gasp in surprise as you bump into none other than Skadi.

“Oh, good timing.” Passing you a bundle of golden-trimmed strips of ancient paper, Skadi smiles vigorously. “You can use these as flash cards for your rune training, as well. I’m surprised that you didn’t ask for my guidance, but that may have been for the best. I would’ve trained you thoroughly in the arts.”

A chill jolts through your spine at that. Who knows just how hard she would’ve trained you? Part of Skadi was Scathach, after all. Thanking her for her assistance, the two of you split paths.

‘I seem to be bumping into a lot of people today...’

Was this a mere coincidence, or perhaps something more?

A busy month full of book reading and writing notes onto your flash cards passes within a blur.

Mash had also shown great interest in your studies, and would help test you with your flashcards every day! However, you were still pretty confused about how long this stage of research would last for.

Whilst reading up on how runes could also be used to predict the future and provide advice for one’s dilemmas; and how the Nornir (3 deities of fate) determined this form of divination, you groan.

All of the people within the books had their own sets of runes, which they would use to communicate with the gods.

In other words, they could be used for divination as well as magic.

‘Why can’t I do that yet?’ You pout indignantly; snapping the book shut.

If Caster wouldn’t teach you rune magic, he could at least teach you about divination! Patience running thin, you decide to leap back into action.

It was time to confront your teacher, once and for all.

However, as soon as you exit your room; you are greeted by none other than Caster himself.

Almost tripping onto the floor with surprise, you gawp in shock at his appearance. With his staff and a mouth-watering cup of Darjeeling tea he had brought from one of Marie’s posthumous tea parties in his hands, Caster smirks. “Yo, master. Looks like I came just on time.”

As the two of you settle in the canteen for class (?), after a bit of small talk; you declare that you want to learn how to use the runes for divination. “If you won’t teach me magic, then I would like to learn how to communicate with the runes first, please!”

At this, he lets out an unusually loud guffaw of laughter. “Ahaha, so you finally worked it out, huh? Before you can use their magic; you gotta understand and communicate with the runes, as well. You’re a faster learner than I thought you’d be.”

Unsure whether this was a compliment or not, you enquire as to what he means by that. “It’s pretty simple: you can’t cast these bad boys without building a relationship with them first. On that note, let’s see how much you’ve learnt from your studies.”

His test is a nightmare.

As he barks the name of each rune from the First Aett (the first eight runes), you are forced to draw each and every one. If you get a rune wrong, he repeats it consistently until you draw the right alphabet for each one.

Afterwards, he takes you through a hellish journey as he asks you to provide at least one definition for each rune.

By the time you are done, night has already swept its veil over Chaldea; the halls devoid of any signs of life.

In other words, the two of you had been at this for the entire evening, which had definitely garnered you both the attention and pity of many staff and servants.

Stomach rumbling, you beg Caster to finish class for today.

“Yeah, sure. Whoops, looks like I got a bit carried away right there.” He has definitely inherited his deadly teaching style from Scathach.

When you ask him if you’re ready for the next bout of training; he frowns. “Nope, that was only the First Aett. You’ll only move to the next stage when you’ve memorized all THREE. In other words, get to learning all 24 runes!!” As you cry in despair, Caster shoots you a mischievous wink as he helps himself to the bar.

The dreaded tests continue on a weekly basis.

Not only do you have to deal with the challenges of the saving the world, helping out your allies and maintaining your own health; you also have to leap into the hellish jaws of rune testing with Caster Cu.

Albeit suffering greatly from the challenge, your spirit was also greatly roused. Learning about the runes was fun!

So much fun, that you’d often dream about them, and see their shapes in the food that you ate; and would even accidentally use their names in conversation sometimes, like saying: “Oh, I’m sure the energy of this rune would help with your headaches,” to a very bewildered Mash; or comparing the sunrise to the runes (which confused Shakespeare and Hans greatly. Actually, they are now worried about your health).

All in all, your studies were starting to take effect!!

It was finally time.

As Caster more or less yelled the name of each rune at you, your response was astounding. Not only were you able to draw the shape of every rune in a matter of seconds, you could also provide multiple readings for all 24 of them.

Eyebrows quirked with surprise, Caster sighs with relief. ‘Phew. Looks like class will be shorter than usual today.’

“Holy shit. You’ve done a damn great job, master. You got them all right!” As you roared with joy, pumping your fists into the air with glee; Caster almost fell off his chair- clutching his sides as he tried (yet failed) not to laugh. “Alright, buckle up. We’re gonna get you a set of runes now.”

A set of runes?! Your eyes sparkled at the prospect of finally being able to have runes of your own. It was about time, as well. You had grown sick of using your flash cards, you wanted the real thing!

However, you were confused about the concept of needing your own set. If Skadi and Caster Cu could manifest them just by using their hands, and magical devices; why would a person need to have a set of them? As you expressed your concern, Caster nods his head in understanding.

“I see your point. But even I have a set of runes, you know? It’s every bit as useful a method.” Unleashing a small, worn-out felt pouch; glimmering gems -whose rune inscriptions were engraved upon them in gold- splashed across the dining table. They were beautiful. “’Sides, there’s something exciting about making your own set.”

Your mind swims with excitement, as he describes the different materials that runes can be made from: bones, metal, gemstones, pebbles, glass, clay...there were endless options.

However, when you asked him if you could use your collection of Evil Bones to make a rune set, he chokes on his coffee- pure horror drenched across his features.

“No way in hell! You trying to get yourself killed? Never invoke the power of the runes on cursed items, master.” 

Then how about using QP or Mana Prisms as a base to inscribe the runes instead? Once you suggested this, his face paled somewhat. “Yeah, about that...don’t even think about it. You need those materials, you know.”

Grumpily threading his hands through blue locks of hair, he sighs. “Look, I’ll help you find some materials. Guess we could rayshift the next time I’m free or something...” As you cheer exuberantly, he can’t help but crack a small smile.

Being a teacher was a lot more amusing than he originally anticipated it to be. There was something fun about departing his knowledge. Besides, he had dedicated himself to becoming the guiding light of Chaldea anyway. ‘A little teaching hurts no-one.’

Using the light of the Soliwo (ᛊ) rune to guide the way, the two of you traverse through a forest heaving with verdant green trees and wildlife.

No matter how many pretty trees and tumbled pebbles you found by the riverside; you weren’t sure if they were the right material for you.

Just when you were about to give up, a powerful jolt of electricity beckons you; almost as if it’s calling your name. As soon as you alert Caster of your instinctual powers, he looks rather flummoxed at first; but is somewhat awed once his Soliwo rune’s light begins to shine in exactly the same direction as the one you’re pointing in!

‘Huh, that sure is weird.’

Things only get weirder, once you both come upon a ginormous slab of Labradorite. Situated neatly upon a bed of leaves. Placed carefully within the middle of the forest.

This timing was too good to be true.

As the electricity coursing through your veins triples in intensity, Caster has to hold you back before you cut loose. “Oi, wait up. Let me test this stone for safety first.”

Placing an Algiz (ᛉ) runestone in your hands to guarantee your protection, he saunters towards the massive hunk of Labradorite.

Chanting an incantation beneath his breath, the forest glows in an eerie blue light; as a pale magic circle glimmers beneath the stone. “Yeah, it’s safe. Pretty strange for it to be out here, though.”

As he sketches Thurisaz (ᚦ) (which not only symbolizes thorns, defense and danger, but can also be used as a means to channel a power akin to Thor’s hammer, mlonjir) onto his staff, he smashes it against the mass of Labradorite; splitting what was once an enormous rock into 24 neatly divided; brilliant blue gems.

Gathering them up, he thrusts them before you. “Here you go. That was a pretty lucky find, if I do say so myself.”

You thank him for your help- making sure to also pay homage to the awesome power of your intuition at the same time, which tickles Caster right in the funny bone.

As soon as the stones drop into your hand; they crackle with an immensely powerful energy, as if these gems were waiting for you!!

As you turn them onto the side; you are gobsmacked to see rune inscriptions already engraved onto each and every stone, as if they were reacting to the mana flowing within your body.

You ask Caster to take a look at this strange phenomenon for you.

“Whoa, are you kidding me? That’s pretty awesome. Let me take a look, too.” As you gently stretch your palms towards Caster- trying to keep the runestones steady in your hands- he gently takes your palms, leaning towards them.

As he catches sight of the engravings lying upon them, his crimson eyes widen with bewilderment. “Holy shit...I think the gods just made you an offering. You’re secretly packing a shitload of power in there, ain’t you? Great job!”

Ruffling your hair, Caster grins. “Think you’ve got time for more teaching?”

As you nod your head, anticipation clear on your features; he plonks onto the ground, handing you a felt pouch. “Put them in there. Try doing your first reading, see what rune speaks to you first!”

Eagerly plonking all 24 runes into the sparkly pouch, you close your eyes and concentrate; beseeching the contact of the gods. Imagining yourself encountering the Nonrnir, as you visualize dropping into the center of the world; you place a hand within your pouch.

Rummaging around the bag, a single rune sends energy rippling through your fingers. That was the one! Pulling it out of the bag, you grin excitedly...only to see that it was none other than...

Nauthiz (ᚾ).

‘Aw shite...’ Disappointed by the rune, you sigh. You wished that your rune could’ve been a more positive one! However, Caster’s reaction was rather different to yours.

“Hey, it’s not as bad as it looks.” Figure illuminated by the sun, he looked much more chill than usual. “Nauthiz is all about your needs, you know? With all the singularities popping up recently, I wouldn’t be surprised if you’re pushing yourself too far.”

“But this rune is basically saying ‘lol you’re suffering’...It’s frustrating.” You counter him.

You knew all too well about the massive strains your body was going through, the transformations you were forced to undergo. Sometimes, it was just too painful for you to bear. Seeing this rune only served as a reminder of that fact.

“How about you look at it from a different perspective? Even though things are way outta wack for you, a small fire still burns. Doesn’t Nauthiz look a bit like two twigs that you’d see in a fire?” Now that was a funny observation. As you smiled at that, he continued. “It just means that no matter how hard things become; all you gotta do is balance your needs and continue to fight. Nauthiz is also screaming ‘oi, damnit! Don’t give up here, you can survive and make it out the other side sparkling like brand new, you hear me??’”

You were very grateful to hear that. Now you realized that even the most ominous of runes also came with signs of fortune and peace.

In other words, they would be there to support you all the way. Thanking him for his great insight, he replies with a simple “Well, I’m the wise one you know? Anyway, you know the saying. Even the coldest of ice thaws someday.”

As you correctly link his adage to the runes, he claps with pride. “Nice, nice. Well, that’ll be all for my teaching. Soon you’ll be able to do readings with nine or more runes!”

But once you yell to him about how you want to use runes such as Kenaz (ᚲ) to fulfil your long-standing desire to set shit on fire; his expression hardens.

“I ain’t teaching you rune magic until you learn how to master rune divination. Don’t push your luck too far~ Come visit me again once you learn how to read the past, present and future with them!” As you indigently complain about how you still want to summon birch trees, and about how difficult it was to learn about the runes; he bursts into rancorous laughter. “That’s not my problem! C’mon, lay off a little...”

Frustrated, you finally give up, asking for one last request. “Caster. What rune will you get if you do a single reading? I would like to see.”

Begrudgingly adhering to your request, he unearths none other than the Ansuz (ᚨ) rune.

“Ah, my favorite. Well, that’s it for today. Let’s go back.” As he turns away, a frightening wind blows through the trees, as a dark shadow drifts over his figure.

In that very moment, he becomes a dark specter within a bountiful forest filled with brilliant light; as his form briefly flickers and shifts, melding into an entire kaleidoscope of distinct beings.

But all it took was a single blink for his form to return back to normal again.

How strange...Was that none other than an illusion? Were your eyes playing tricks with you? Silently trailing behind, you contemplated the meaning behind the rune he had drawn.

Ansuz...It commonly symbolized communication, breath, and chiefly of all...it was the rune that represented none other than Odin himself.

In addition to that, you saw how the rune landed on its side when Caster drew it, and the mysterious glint in his eyes.

Was Caster hiding something? You couldn’t quite put your finger on it.

‘Just who is Caster Cu really?’ Such a thought weighed dangerously heavy within your mind as the two of you took the steep path back home.

By learning more about the runes, you may have unlocked the door to an endless chasm of mysteries; one that had ties directly linking to the deeper truths lying behind Chaldea...

THE END

Omg this was only meant to be like 1,000 words. But I got extremely invested within this concept and was burning with great excitement, which lead to this becoming SUPER LONG XD Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this ;; Also dw learning runes in real life isn’t as hardcore as this, I promise you!

[witchern]

* thread tomorrow with today.

for the midam wedding! ficlet. 941 words.

Michael makes the chuppah himself. 

He doesn’t use any of his angelic magic, and the only reason Adam knows this — in spite of Michael’s attempts at keeping the damn thing secret — is because, even when Michael is working in the yard outside their cottage, Adam can occasionally hear him spit curses at the drill whenever it doesn’t work properly. 

It’s enough to put a smile on Adam’s face. The archangel Michael, Prince of Heaven, first of God’s children, undone by a power tool.

In any case, Michael masks his progress by hiding the pieces in the shed at night and makes Adam promise not to peek. 

Whenever Michael is outside working on the chuppah, Adam thinks about the fact that the archangel is making something with his own two hands — something that represents the new home they’ll build together — and his heart fills with warmth.

( read the rest under the cut or on ao3 )

---

At first, Adam is self conscious trying to plan a wedding. A Jewish wedding. He’d never been particularly religious — his visits to the synagogue these days are purely based around whichever High Holiday is next on the calendar. His menorah is from Target, not some priceless family heirloom. His Shabbat candlesticks are from Target too, and they’d only been used twice since they’d been purchased. 

In his lowest moments, Adam sometimes feels like he doesn’t deserve the traditional trappings: the ketubah, the tallit — even the chuppah. Each time he has to Google something that he should’ve remembered from Hebrew school, he feels like a fraud. Like he hasn’t earned this. Like he’s playing make-believe. 

But Michael is always there to remind him that he’s not a fraud, that he’s worth it, that what he wants is true and real, that Adam has more than earned this sliver of happiness that they’ve built together in the aftermath of so much pain and horror. 

Michael builds the chuppah; Adam builds his joy.

---

They decide on Earth Day for the wedding because, well, it has dual significance for them. Michael was around for its literal creation; he saw the planet from its gestation until its current point. 

As for Adam? He wants a way to mark the fact that they’re back. That they’re on earth together, out of hell, breathing fresh air and feeling the wind in their hair, the sunshine on their faces. He wants to mark the fact that the ground beneath them is real and the world is theirs to explore however they want, for as long as they want.

Adam watches one morning as Michael crosses the yard to retrieve the chuppah pieces from the shed (no, this doesn’t count as peeking), and he knows he wants this forever. 

---

The day of the wedding arrives and the outdoor ceremony itself is a quiet, intensely private affair. In the past few months that they’ve lived in this sparsely-populated area, Michael has managed to befriend a retired cantor in town who agrees — happily — to officiate.

(Adam wonders how the cantor would feel if he knew he’d be officiating a wedding for the Biblical archangel Michael. He doesn’t bring it up, but it does make him chuckle internally every now and then.)

Kevin is there as one of their witnesses. Through a series of random circumstances involving an abandoned house across town and a kikimora, he and Adam had met last year and bonded over drinks while bitching back and forth about the Winchesters. In short: Kevin is Adam’s best friend. 

Jack is their second witness — and really, it should be strange, having the new God (or at least as close to God as this world has) as a witness at their wedding. But Jack isn’t just God: he’s Michael’s nephew. The two of them have been talking more, trying to bond despite the wounds they both carry. Adam isn’t privy to everything they talk about, but he doesn’t need to be. That’s between Michael and Jack; Adam’s just glad that Michael has someone else to talk to. Someone who’s family, and wants to get to know the two of them better. 

The cantor, of course, is there too, beaming at them all. 

And as for the chuppah itself —

It’s beautifully simple. The four poles are made of birch wood, pale and smoothed over with sandpaper. Tied to the four poles and hanging over them to signify a roof is a gorgeous white-and-gold tallit fluttering gently in the breeze.

“Whose tallit is that?” Adam asks, tilting his head to get a better look.

Michael glances at him, an amused and fond smile tugging at his lips. “Well, when we take the chuppah down after this, it’s yours. If you want it.”

And, well, Adam always knew he would cry on his wedding day.

---

They each have their own glass to smash under their feet. Later, Michael will take the pieces of Adam’s glass and fashion it into a small, anatomically-correct heart-shaped vase. They’ll put flowers in it and it’ll sit on the windowsill in their kitchen, in the perfect spot for the afternoon light to glint off its surface.

Michael will take the pieces of his own glass and make a mezuzah for their front door.

---

Later they’ll have a proper party with their friends and family, because Adam will be damned if he doesn’t sit in a chair and get lifted into the air with his husband — husband — at least once. They’ll have their first meal with each other and dance the hora and surround themselves with love and warmth.

But here and now, this moment is just for them. 

And so they stand there, hand in hand, soul with grace, under the chuppah an archangel made.

[potassium-pilot]

Prompt 6: Avatar

“How do you stand it?” asked Estinien with a small growl in his voice.

“Stand what?” replied Aymeric curiously, unsure what he could possibly withstand.

“Having Dia in your house. Ever since I joined the Scions, she’s been a nuisance. I’ve not known peace. I’ll be on my own trying to eat, and she’ll appear from nowhere to sit down and interrogate me.”

The two engaged in a long overdue chat, borne from a request made by the Lord Commander to both Estinien (“Please, remember to stop by Ishgard sometime, old friend. I would certainly welcome a bit of catching up” Aymeric asked once upon a time) and Tataru (“I somehow doubt he’ll stop by Ishgard. Could I trouble you for an occassional update as you also provide for Dia?”) As an old friend, and one of the Scion’s most generous financial and supply contributors, she was more than happy to oblige, and even conspire to make him see the good Lord Speaker.

“The man will drown me in questions”, complained Estinien at the time.

“Who wouldn’t?!” Tataru countered, “It’s important to him, and as he’s a backer of the Scions, I would much rather keep him happy! Don’t you want to at least see your oldest friend again?”

And so he did. And so he found himself in the parlor of Borel Manor sipping on tea, sans birch syrup for the dragoon.

“How is she interrogating you?” Aymeric inquired.

“She’ll badger me with questions about the meal I’m eating and how my day is going, and make all sorts of strange quips. I don’t understand why either. She wasn’t like this when the four of us entreated Hraesvelgr, or even recently when we freed Tiamat and fought the lunar primals.”

Aymeric set his tea down on the table. “My friend, having experienced real interrogation, I believe you’re being rather dramatic.”

Estinien brought his gaze to his lap, rather embarrassed at the idea that he managed somehow to forget Aymeric’s ordeal at the Vault. It was never far from his mind, however. The image of his closest friend battered and bruised and the image of the knight who dared to protect Dia impaled by a spear of light haunted him every now and again.

“…perhaps a better choice of words was in order. Forgive me”, said Estinien meekly.

Aymeric released a sigh through his nose. “I can find it in my heart to forgive you…if you give Dia a chance. She’s not herself at work, and she’s trying to be herself with you, and engaging you in the longstanding pasttime of ‘welcoming you to a new place’ is a part of it.”

“How do you mean ‘at work’?”

“The Scions are as much employment as they are her second family. She’s rather singleminded in her focus when it comes to her assignments given by them. When no work is to be found with the Scions, it’s a very different story. ‘Twas much the same with the two of us once, and clearly, you’ve only ever engaged with her when she was working.”

Estinien harumphed and said, “Bollocks. You don’t become a different person just because you have a task at hand.”

“Really? Because I’ve watched you do just that.”

Estinien growled, but accepted defeat. He was right, after all. “Fine. I just don’t understand how she can be that chummy with the lot of us, then.”

“As I understand it, that group went through a rather harrowing experience together, a change from usually sending Dia into the harrowing experience alone.” Estinien couldn’t help but notice a tinge of resentment in his friend’s remark. Regardless, he responded, “From the meetings I’ve been dragged into, ‘harrowing’ doesn’t even begin to describe it.”

“Oh?”

“Indeed. The woman’s inhuman, Aymeric. No one could have survived what she did, yet she’s still here. I simply don’t understand why, and she refuses to explain.”

“Have you asked?”

“Yes, more than once. She simply doesn’t go into detail beyond what I’m sure you already know.”

Dia explained most of what transpired on the First to him after her official return when she managed to awaken the Scions. He was sure there was some sensitive information for Scion ears only that he couldn’t be privy to, but what was it that not even Estinien could know?

“And the other Scions know naught?”

“They mentioned that a wayward soul aligned with hers.” Ardbert, Aymeric thought.

“I’m well aware of Ardbert.”

“Ardbert?” Estinien shot back quizically.

“Aye, the Warrior of Darkness.”

“What in hells is she doing with a Warrior of Darkness in her soul?”

“Did they truly not discuss this in those meetings of yours?”

“Wasn’t exactly a topic of focus.”

“Fair enough”, Aymeric conceded, “At any rate, she’s incredible, is she not?”

“I’m still concerned she’s not saying everything she needs to say.”

“Hm, surviving impossible situations, refusing to discuss certain matters outright and going to great measures to avoid a conversation she does not wish to be a part of? Who could do such things, I wonder?” Aymeric faked consideration, enjoying teasing the dragoon.

“You’ve made your point”, Estinien sternly fired back, “I just wish she’d tell me what that bloody crystal does.”

“Crystal?”

Estinien raised his eyebrows at the question. “Have you not seen it?”

“No, I haven’t. What crystal?”

“There’s this strange yellow crystal that I caught her fiddling with, and when I asked about it, she hastily put it away and ran off.”

That concerned Aymeric, to say the least. What was she doing not telling him something? Not telling the Scions something?

“I’m telling you, something is off with the woman. Clutching crystals, carrying warriors of darkness in her soul- I don’t like it, Aymeric. Something’s wrong.”

Aymeric stayed silent. He was pondering just what she could be hiding. What piece was he missing?

“Speaking of, didn’t you say she’d be joining us?”

“She should have been here by now, yes. Why don’t I try contacting her? I’m sure she just landed herself into becoming a helping hand, as is her wont.”

In fact, Dia was hiding in the hallway near the parlor during that whole conversation. At first, she just wanted to leave the two of them alone for a bit, see how they’d do before she would walk in. Then, they started talking about her. They were going to demand answers, answers she couldn’t bring herself to give.

They were going to leave her once they found out, she just knew it.

She felt exactly one thing, and that was a desperate need to flee, escape from the hall before they could ask anything. She would leave them before they could leave her. Quickly, she teleported from the hall to the aetheryte in Mor Dhona.

“Did you hear that?” Aymeric inquired.

“I did, aye. Did someone teleport in?”

Aymeric stepped towards the hall quickly to investigate the sound of a teleportation spell. No one was in the hall.

“Maybe I misunderstand, but it could be that someone teleported out rather than in.”

“…that wasn’t her, was it?” Estinien hypothesized cautiously.

“I’m…unsure.” Aymeric put a hand on the linkpearl and attempted to contact her.

Nothing.

After another attempt brought no change, he decided to resort to the best person hunter in Eorzea: Tataru Taru. As she wasn’t available on his linkpearl, this required an in-person visit.

“I hate to cut this short, as I was the one who bid you come, but—“

“No need to apologize. I’ll come with you.”

The two teleported to the aetheryte in Mor Dhona and entered the Rising Stones proper.

“Oh, welcome, Lord Commander! And welcome back, Estinien. Did you two enjoy tea?” greeted Tataru cheerfully.

“Aye, for a while,” answered Estinien, “but I’m afraid we have a problem now.”

“Oh?”

Trying to hide his worry, Aymeric asked, “Did Dia come by here, per chance?”

Tataru shook her head. “No, I haven’t seen her since our meeting yesterday. I thought she was with you.”

“She was, but she had left the house earlier before he arrived to handle some leves, and promised to be back in time for tea. She didn’t come. I contacted her only to have my calls ignored.”

Tataru’s eyes widened.

“I’m telling you, it’s that hells-damned crystal and that Ardbert you mentioned” Estinien accused, “What else could make her act like this?”

“Crystal?” Tataru inquired.

“We can worry about the crystal later”, Aymeric responded, “Our first concern should be discerning her location.”

“Maybe you two should return to Ishgard, ask around and see if anyone’s seen her. I can send Hoary to ask around Mor Dhona and make sure she didn’t come by here”, proposed the lalafell.

“Not a bad idea”, replied Estinien. The two elezen teleported back to Ishgard, ready to begin a search. “I’ll take care of the asking, Aymeric. You should be there in case she comes back.”

“Estinien-“

“That wasn’t a request, Aymeric. Go home.”

*********************

They would get nowhere. They would never get to where she went.

Dia found herself in the Crystarium. The people happily greeted her as she walked through the settlement, but she could only return half-hearted sentiments. She was a bit distracted, after all. She settled on the Pendants as it offered peace and quiet while still fully assuring that no one would be able to contact her by linkpearl. The innkeeper led her to her old room, exactly as she had left it, minus the half-eaten food and Ardbert’s wandering spirit interrupting her respite.

She sat down on the bed, unsure what to make of what happened, of what she heard, of what Estinien was truly thinking. It was one thing that he was a bit grouchy about the way she would tease him when she was there. It was another thing to accuse her of becoming something completely different, of being inhuman. She’s not a monster, after all.

…right?

“I’m not a monster”, she said to herself, trying to convince herself that she was, in fact, as human as the rest. But that doubt still lingered. Beq Lugg said her soul was the densest soul she’d ever seen. Why would Emet-Selch have bothered if she were simply another “inferior being” as he put it? Where did Azem end and Dia begin? Was there ever truly a Dia? Was she technically Ardbert as well if that were the case? She flung her head into her hands, unsure what to make of any of it.

“You’re going to have to go back, you know.”

Ardbert’s voice rang through her head.

“Oh, what do you know?” she retorted to her eighth part.

“I was there. Whether you like it or not, I do see some things.”

“Try to see less, will you?”

“Would that I could.”

She sighed. “I’m well aware that I need to go back. I’m sure eventually, Aymeric is going to become concerned about how long I’ve been gone, as will the other Scions.”

“So what are we doing here, then?”

“You know what we’re doing here.”

“Ah yes, a completely rational, logical decision that only came after you gave it complete consideration and immeasurable forethought.”

She scowled at his disembodied voice. “Sarcasm is ill-becoming of dead men.”

“Good thing I live in you now. You have enough sass for two.”

She groaned, “What in hells do I tell them?” She put on a very saccharine, pleasant tone. ‘Hey, by the way, I’m eight parts of an amaurotine that was on the same council as Elidibus, Emet-Selch, Lahabrea, and all those lovely other people we’ve met that hurt all of you one way or another. I might have even been best friends with Emet-Selch, but don’t worry, I’m NOT an Ascian. I was one of good ones!’”

“Perfect, you already know your lines.”

“I’m not telling them that! That’s absurd!”

“What’s absurd is crossing time and space to avoid a conversation.”

She threw herself back into the bed and stared at the ceiling. “They hurt so many people, Ardbert. What would they think if I told them I was an ally?”

“I think somehow, they’ll figure out that you are two different people.”

“How can they figure that out when I’m not too sure myself?” Dia asked through tears.

“Simple. They wouldn’t give a damn.”

“How do you know?”

“Azem didn’t join them in summoning Zodiark and you didn’t actively try to kill them.”

Dia stayed silent for a moment. “Are we who we say we are, Ardbert?”

“We need to make a distinction here. I see Azem as a person who lived in the time of the ancients and served in their government. I see an ascian as a back-stabbing piece of amaro shite who serves Zodiark. Now other than that big gaping hole you left in Hades, you’ve never been a backstabber, nor are you amaro shite, and unless there’s been a massive change of heart that I’m unaware of, you definitely do not serve Zodiark. Now what do you think?”

She lied still, trying to take in the feeling of the bright linen beneath her fingers, the solidity of the ground beneath her boots, the smell in the air like fresh laundry and cookies. Slowly, she started pointing out the bricks on the ceiling and counting them. She lost her grip on reality, and Ardbert was helping with her return.

“I think I need to tell Aymeric at least.”

“If it gets us back to the Source, I’m all for it.”

She sat up once again, still barely tethered to her reality. This isn’t the first time she’s had an attack like this. Usually, they’re smaller, and happen when she tries to sleep, the result being nothing more than a simple jolt upward in her bed. When that meant her bed in Dawn’s Respite, she would get up and handle other business as she could to tire herself out. In Borel Manor, it was a much quicker process, in which Aymeric would quickly join her and calm her down, holding her until she fell asleep again.

He didn’t mind because she does the same for him.

As she slowly regained her composure, an incredible wash of embarrassment covered her.

“Did you imagine you’d be dating someone when you joined your soul with mine, Ardbert?”

“The thought crossed my mind. You talked about him endlessly. A man that looks like that? I could certainly think of worse prices to pay in exchange for saving my world.”

Dia chuckled.

“You could do far worse, anyways. I’m glad this Aymeric fellow’s pretty decent.”

“Yeah, me too.”

*********************

The hours had passed. The midday that let the two men enjoy their tea earlier gave way to twilight. Aymeric sat at the settee, doing anything to get his mind off of his missing Dia. Today was an off-day, yet there he sat with paperwork at the coffee table, trying to drown himself under amendments and statutes and arguments for the coming days. It did little to assuage worries, and may have even exacerbated them, but it was something to move his mind away from it.

“THE BLEEDING FIRST!”

The roar of the Azure Dragoon shook the foundation. Aymeric shot up and hurried towards the hall.

“My lord, you have a visitor”, announced the steward in a very tired voice.

“Thank you, Angelbert.” Estinien arrived at the doorway of the parlor.

“SHE WENT THROUGH THE BLEEDING RIFT AND NOW SHE’S IN THE GODSDAMNED FIRST!”

“Estinien, calm down! Where did you hear that?!”

“Tataru called me! Apparently, Hoary had a witness tell him she went east of the aetheryte, and the Sons of Saint Coinach confirmed it!”

Aymeric, stunned by the revelation, moved to sit down.

“You all right?” Estinien checked.

“So she just…left Hydaelyn entirely?”

“From the sounds of it.”

“And…no one else can get her?”

“She’s the only bloody person capable of traveling through the rift unscathed.”

He did nothing. He couldn’t do anything. If he looked at his work anymore, his brain would simply shatter. She went back to the First, of all places. Why the First? Why did she leave? What isn’t she telling him?

As if Halone had heard his thoughts, he heard a door close, and muffled behind the walls were the words, “Ah, there you are!” from the mouth of Angelbert. Footsteps drew closer to their location until finally, her appearance graced the doorway and Dia met her gaze with Aymeric’s.

“YOU!” Estinien shouted with the force of the Fury behind his voice. He marched towards the Warrior of Light and stared her down. “Do you know what kind of trouble you caused?! You made Tataru send out a Scion after you! You made me question all of godsdamn Ishgard before we found out you went off to the First! We couldn’t contact you! What in the seven hells were you thinking?!”

“ESTINIEN!”

Aymeric rarely yelled. Yelling was not his personal go-to outside of the battlefield. In his experience, yelling did nothing but fray emotions further. Sometimes, however, it was necessary.

Particularly now, as he didn’t want his friend screaming in his girlfriend’s face anymore.

Estinien turned around, still a little shocked to hear him yell like that.

“Please go. I wish to have a word alone with her.”

“But—“

“I will take care of this! Leave!”

With a blink, and a scowl towards Dia and her behavior, he eventually stomped off to return to the Rising Stones. Dia turned to Aymeric and asked meekly, “Are you going to yell at me too?”

“No. I will not yell at you.” He kept his voice calm despite a sea of anguish that brewed beneath him.

“Are you sure? You deserve it. I hurt you, didn’t I?”

“Even if I wanted to, where would we be if I hurt you back? All I want is an answer.”

Dia reached into her inventory, and pulled out something that glinted from the light of the fireplace. A small yellow crystal revealed itself in the palm of her hand. She stepped towards him and offered it for his inspection. Curiously, he took it and gave it a look.

“There. That’s what I’ve been hiding. Not even the Scions know what it does. I pray they don’t find out either.”

To him, it felt strange holding the chunk of crystal. There was definitely something strange about it, but he couldn’t pinpoint what. He met her gaze, and asked “Why?”

She sighed, and said, “Aymeric, you know me well enough to understand that trust isn’t easily given by me.” She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to stop herself from losing her tether to reality once more. “I trust you. I wholeheartedly, unambiguously trust you. I tell you this for two reasons: one, because I want to tell you something that I need you to swear you’ll never speak a word of to anyone, not even Estinien.”

He nodded. She took a deep breath.

“That crystal holds my memories as an ancient, as well as a power I once held in that life that helped me escape from Elidibus’ clutches when I fought him.” He shot his gaze back at the crystal, as if it could tell him that she was joking, or lying. It said nothing. He returned his wandering eye back to her.

“Much like Lahabrea, Elidibus, and Emet-Selch, I was a member of their Convocation of Fourteen when I was whole, before that world became fourteen shards. I held the title of Azem.”

Before he could say anything, she had moved on. “Azem opposed the summoning of Zodiark and gave up their seat. Or I did. I think of all the things about this, that’s the worst part. I’m not sure where Azem ends and Dia begins, or if I ever truly was Dia for that matter. At any rate, that means that I once filled their ranks, and the ascians, including the one that corrupted the Archbishop, once considered me a…friend.”

He wasn’t sure what to make of this. He wasn’t sure if he cared. Azem was of a time well before him. Her past life was not what he cared about, but the life that stood before him now. The one to whom he owed so much, to whom everyone in Eorzea owed so much. The one that loved him, the one that he loved.

“That’s…a lot…”

“There’s a second reason I told you that I trust you. And that’s because I just broke your trust, and I’m sorry. I’m very sorry I did. I stupidly thought if you knew, Aymeric, you’d leave, and so would the others. I panicked, and-“

“That’s why.” He interrupted, something rather unlike him, but he felt it was his job to stop spirals before they could begin. “You overheard Estinien, didn’t you? We heard the sound of teleportation in the hall.” She nodded.

“Look, what you once were in millenia past is of no importance to me. You joined ranks with ascians in a time long past, but you are most assuredly not an ascian.” He placed his hands on her shoulders calmly. “You are Dia Sito, no matter what anyone says. You are my partner, you are a scholar, a master culinarian, a weaver with skills second to none, and so much more to so many. You have defined Dia Sito to all of us. None would know of you as Azem, regardless of what you were told on the First. You, Dia Sito, are not an ascian, have not conspired with ascians, and have no plans to serve Zodiark…unless there’s another thing you have refrained from mentioning.”

She let out a laugh through her nose. “No, that’s about it on secrets.”

“Good. Now come, sit down.” He gently kissed her forehead and guided her to the settee with an arm around her shoulder. “I also need you to understand that your past life having engaged with paragons is not sufficient grounds for me to leave. I’m not going anywhere.”

She took a good look at him, and he at her, before the two leaned in for a quick kiss.

“I owe Estinien an apology as well, don’t I?”

“Perhaps, but I believe he owes you one as well. Go at your own pace, Dia.”

“I will. I can’t say I won’t be walking into a death trap the minute I walk into the Rising Stones.”

“You fear Estinien will have a second wind?”

“No, that Tataru will have a first wind.” He chuckled. “Estinien is nothing compared to the wrath of Tataru Taru”, she said, meaning every word behind it.

“I imagine the lot of them might have something to say of this.”

“Yeah, you’re right…” she stood up, “I should probably—“ He grabbed her wrist gently, and told her with a smile, “They can wait.”

“I need to tell at least one of them that I’ve come back.”

“You do have a linkpearl. I would recommend contacting the one least likely to enter into hysterics.”

Alphinaud, she thought.

“Very well.” She sat back down next to him, and placed a hand on her linkpearl.

“This is Alphinaud.”

“Hi, Alphinaud, it’s Dia.”

“Dia! Thank the Twelve! Hoary said you’d run off to the First. What happened? Are you quite all right?”

“Am I alive and kicking? Yes. Am I all right? I’ll need a minute to get back to you on that.”

Alphinaud sighed in relief. That was Dia all right.

“I’m surprised, Alphinaud. Was Estinien not in a tirade upon his return to the Rising Stones?”

“He slammed the door behind him on his way into Dawn’s Respite, but that’s nothing too unusual. We tried to ask him of your return, but he ignored us. Why do you ask?”

“Uh, let’s just say he and I didn’t exactly exchange pleasantries when he saw I came back.”

“Ah.”

“Anyways, I’ll return to explain myself tomorrow. I just wanted to let someone over there know I’m in the Source and in Borel Manor.”

“Mm, I understand why you came to me now. Very well, I shall disseminate word of your arrival to our comrades. Thank you for letting me know.”

“Of course. Thank you for not shouting at me.”

He giggled. “Any time.”

“Good night.”

Little did she know that the minute Alphinaud exclaimed her name, all the Scions except for Estinien gathered to listen to the call.

“I feel better, I think”, Dia told Aymeric.

“Very good”, he wrapped an arm around her shoulder.

“Sorry for ruining your tea.”

“Think nothing of it. We’ll have more where that came from.”

She gave a rather sad smile. “Stop being so good about this. I don’t deserve it.”

“You deserve anything I could ever give. I only wish my love were enough.”

“It’s more than enough, it’s more than I’m even worthy of, my dear.”

For a moment, there was a flash. A black robe covering her arm, a black mask in her hand, and a different room appeared before her. As she turned her head, a familiar face that Dia never met before looked back to her with a wry smile on his face. In that same moment, it returned to the soft and gentle smile of Aymeric de Borel, with blue eyes shimmering as he looked into her soul itself, it seemed. She didn’t even realize until that moment that she clutched Azem’s crystal like her life depended on it. She released it quickly, not wanting it’s influence at that moment.

“I’m so tired”, she said, swallowing tears.

“I know.”

“I don’t want this.”

“I know you don’t.” He reached around her shoulder and pulled her into him.

“I’m so lost”, she said, the tears releasing.

“Then I’ll help you find your way.”

“Can you do that?”

“I’ll be damned if I don’t try.”

She had nothing more to say. Only sobs came from her. Azem weighed too heavy, and she only held eight parts. Dia lost her tether after that flashback. Aymeric had a rope for her to use instead to pull her back. She felt his heartbeat, his breathing, his warmth, the fabric of his shirt, of the settee, then tried to count the symbols that made up his wallpaper through tear-soaked eyes. Slowly, she regained control of her breath, the sobs reigned in, and the tears less poured out and more trickled. It helped that he was there to gently rub her back. It was soothing, to say the least.

“I’m sorry about this.”

“There’s nothing to apologize for, my love.”

She took the crystal and placed it on the coffee table to avoid the risk of clutching it once again. Now that he knew, she had no need to hide it on her person.

“May I ask why you carry it then? If it burdens you so, it seems imprudent to keep it on.”

She shook her head. “For whatever feelings I have about the ascians, about the whole of Amaurot…that is a part of me. It feels wrong to keep it away.”

“Such is the burden of knowledge, is it not?”

“Now that it’s there, I can never truly remove it. I would rather try and learn from it as much as I can. I feel I owe it to them.”

“To the ascians?” he asked with an eyebrow raised.

“No, to Amaurot, and to history. I’d be a terrible scholar if I didn’t try.”

He let out a light laugh, and looked to her. “Even the best of scholars need a break from their tomes.”

“I know. So I’ll lay it there for now.” She let out a scoff of her own. “‘Tis strange, I feel as though I might as well have said, ‘I’ll lay my arm here.’”

“It’s that affixed to you?”

“To an extent. That is me after all.”

“In an incredibly detached sense, yes. Mayhap you should leave it alone for a while. Return to it another time.”

She let out a long breath through her nose while she stared at it. Aymeric took the crystal in his hand, feeling the strange sensation once more, and stood up. “If it’s quite all right with you, I’d like to place it in a drawer upstairs. When the time comes that you need it again, you’ll be able to access it with ease.”

As attached to it as she became, he was right. It did no good for her to obsess over it. She nodded, stood up and followed him upstairs.

Everything that made up Azem sat in a drawer in the master bedroom for quite some time. Dia still felt conflict in her soul, but it did much to separate her from further flashbacks and keep her grounded in the world as it is now. Amaurot, the Convocation, the Final Days, they laid idly by as Eorzea, the Scions, the Grand Company of Eorzea, and the looming threat of Fandaniel and his own machinations took priority. Of all times for her to place the crystal aside, it was when the knowledge was needed most. If she didn’t, however, the knowledge threatened to consume her. No, it was for the best. It needed to be away from her ever-growing curiosity.

That is, until the time came that she could no longer sit by in Eorzea. The crystal saw light once more and took it’s place with Dia when the world needed her.

[mystacoceti]

AN OCTOPUS

of ice. Deceptively reserved and flat, it lies “in grandeur and in mass” beneath a sea of shifting snow dunes; dots of cyclamen-red and maroon on its clearly defined pseudopodia made of glass that will bend—a much needed invention— comprising twenty-eight ice fields from fifty to five hundred feet thick, of unimagined delicacy.

“Picking periwinkles from the cracks” or killing prey with the concentric crushing rigor of the python, it hovers forward “spider fashion on its arms” misleadingly like lace; its “ghostly pallor changing to the green metallic tinge of an anemone-starred pool.” The fir trees, in “the magnitude of their root systems,” rise aloof from these maneuvers “creepy to behold,” austere specimens of our American royal families, “each like the shadow of the one beside it. The rock seems frail compared with their dark energy of life,” it’s vermilion and onyx and manganese-blue interior expensiveness left at the mercy of the weather; “stained transversely by iron where the water drips down,” recognized by its plants and its animals. Completing a circle, you have been deceived into thinking that you have progressed, under the polite needles of the larches “hung to filter, not to intercept the sunlight”— met by tightly wattled spruce twigs ”conformed to an edge like clipped cypress as if no branch could penetrate the cold beyond its company”’ and dumps of gold and silver ore enclosing The Goat’s Mirror— that ladyfinger-like depression in the shape of the left human foot, which prejudices you in favor of itself before you have had time to see the others; its indigo, pea-green, blue-green, and turquoise, from a hundred to two hundred feet deep, “merging in irregular patches in the middle lake where, like gusts of a storm obliterating the shadows of the fir trees, the wind makes lanes of ripples.” What spot could have merits of equal importance for bears, elk, deer, wolves, goats, and ducks? Pre-empted by their ancestors, this is the property of the exacting porcupine, and of the rat “slipping along to its burrow in the swamp or pausing on high ground to smell the heather”; of “thoughtful beavers making drains which seem the work of careful men with shovels,” and of the bears inspecting unexpectedly ant-hills and berry bushes. Composed of calcium gems and alabaster pillars, topaz, tourmaline crystals and amethyst quartz, their den is somewhere else, concealed in the confusion of “blue forests thrown together with marble and jasper and agate as if whole quarries had been dynamited.” And farther up, in stag-at-bay position as a scintillating fragment of these terrible stalagmites, stands the goat, its eye fixed on the waterfall which never seems to fall— an endless skein swayed by the wind, immune to force of gravity in the perspective of the peaks. A special antelope acclimated to “grottoes from which issue penetrating draughts which make you wonder why you came,” it stands its ground on cliffs the color of the clouds, of petrified white vapor— black feet, eyes, nose, and horns, engraved on dazzling ice fields, the ermine body on the crystal peak; the sun kindling its shoulders to maximum heat like acetylene, dyeing them white— upon this antique pedestal, “a mountain with those graceful lines which prove it a volcano,” its top a complete cone like Fujiyama’s till an explosion blew it off. Distinguished by a beauty of which “the visitor dare never fully speak at home for fear of being stoned as an impostor,” Big snow Mountain is the home of a diversity of creatures: Those who “have lived in hotels but who now live in camps—who prefer to”; the mountain guide evolving from the trapper, “in two pairs of trousers, the outer on older, wearing slowly away from the feet to the knees”; “the nine-striped chipmunk running with unmammal-like agility along a log”; the water ouzel with “it’s passions for rapids and high-pressures falls,” building under the arch of some tiny Niagara; the white-tailed ptarmigan “in winter solid white, feeding on heather-bells and alpine buckwheat”; and the elven eagles of the west, “fond of the spring fragrance and the winter colors,” used to the unegoistic action of the glaciers and “several hours of frost every midsummer night.” “They make a nice appearance, don’t they,” happy seeing nothing? Perched on treacherous lava and pumice— those unadjusted chimney pots and cleavers which stipulate “names and addresses of persons to notify in case of disaster”— they hear the roar of ice and supervise the water winding slowly through the cliffs, the road “climbing like the thread which forms the groove around a snail shell, doubling back and forth until where snow begins, it ends.” No “deliberate wide-eyed wistfulness” is here among the boulders sunk in ripples and white water where “when you hear the best wild music of the forest is is sure to be a marmot,” the victim on some slight observatory, of “a struggle between curiosity and caution,” inquiring what has scared it: a stone from the moraine descending in leaps, another marmot, or the spotted ponies with glass eyes, brought up on frosty grass and flowers and rapid draughts of ice water. Instructed none knows how, to climb the mountain, by businessman who require for recreation three hundred and sixty-five holidays in the year, these conspicuously spotted little horses are peculiar; hard to discern among the birch trees, ferns, and lily pads, avalanche lilies, Indian paintbrushes, bear’s ears and kittentails, and miniature cavalcades of clorophylless fungi magnified in profile on the moss-beds like moonstones in the water; the cavalcade of calico competing with the original American menagerie of styles among the white flowers of the rhododendron surmounting rigid leaves upon which moisture works its alchemy, transmuting verdure into onyx.

“Like happy souls in hell,” enjoying mental difficulties, the Greeks amused themselves with delicate behavior because it was “so noble and so fair”; not practised in adapting their intelligence to eagle traps and snowshoes, to alpenstocks and other toys contrived by those “alive to the advantage of invigorating pleasures.” Bows, arrows, oars, and paddles, for which trees provide the wood, in new countries more eloquent than elsewhere— augmenting the assertion that, essentially humane, “the forest affords wood for dwellings and by its beauty stimulates the moral vigor of its citizens.” The Greek like the smoothness, distrusting what was back of what could not be clearly seen, resolving with benevolent conclusiveness, “complexities which still will be complexities as long as the world lasts”; ascribing what we clumsily call happiness, to “an accident or a quality, a spiritual substance or the soul itself, an act, a disposition, or a habit, or a habit infused, to which the soul has been persuaded, or something distinct from a habit, a power”— such power as Adam had and we are still devoid of. “Emotionally sensitive, their hearts were hard”; their wisdom was remote from that of those odd oracles of cool official sarcasm, upon this game preserve where “guns, nets, seines, traps and explosives, hired vehicles, gambling and intoxicants are prohibited; disobedient persons being summarily removed and not allowed to return without permissions in writing.” It is not self-evident that it is frightful to have everything afraid of one; that one must do as one is told and eat rice, prunes, dates, raisins, hardtack, and tomatoes if one would “conquer the main peak of Mount Tacoma, this fossil flower concise without a shiver, intact when it is cut, damned for sacrosanct remoteness— like Henry James “damned by the public for decorum”; not decorum, but restraint; it is the love of doing hard things that rebuffed and wore them out—a public out of sympathy with neatness. Neatness of finish! Neatness of finish! Relentless accuracy is the nature of this octopus with its capacity for fact. “Creeping slowly as with mediated stealth, its arms seeming to approach from all directions,” it received one under winds that “tear the snow to bits and hurl it like a sandblast shearing off twigs and loose bark from the trees.” Is “tree” the word for these tings “flat on the ground like vines”? some “bent in a half-circle with branches on one side suggesting dust-brushes, not trees; some finding strength in union, forming little stunted groves their flattened mats of branches shrunk in trying to escape” from the hard mountain “planed by ice and polished by the wind”— the white volcano with no weather side; the lightning flashing at its base, rain falling in the valleys, and snow falling on the peak— the glassy octopus symmetrically pointed, its claw cut by the avalanche “with a sound like the crack of a rifle, in a curtain of powdered snow launched like a waterfall.”

Marianne Moore

[badpunny]

Alright Guys, this is going to be such a mess. You have been officially warned. I have them roughly listed in the order that they are coming in but some of them might be flipped around here and there just incase you would rather toss ideas around for the ones coming sooner rather than later. These are short snippets 

1. Poppy Birch - (19) 24 - Ubara Vampire

Everyone say hello to Poppy. Poppy is one of the many Birch children. Growing up she prided herself on being the apple of Mom's eye and bending over backwards to do everything to make Mom happy. It is practically an unhealthy obsession at this point. Only problem is favorite daughter got a little bright eyed and had the idea of leaving put into her head by a pretty boy who stole away her heart. WELP. Run away plan failed and is now a vampire because Mother's love. Currently obsessed with getting back into Mom's good graces, causing chaos with the sisters and judging basically everyone. She is the soft looking girl that you cannot entirely trust but its hard not to trust that smile especially when she is harmlessly humming a lullaby or telling a tale who isn't obsessed with fairy tales.

 Needs: Siblings, the cute boy who yknow tried to lure her away. Friends of the girl who she murdered. People who she has turned on because of boredom and fun. She is a twisted version of Wendy so if you have any Peter Pan peep Ideas throw them this way.

2. Lennox Stone - 28 - Shifter Melanistic Jaguar

LENNNNNNNIE, is a soul who deserves better.. Like way better. Lennie was promised off to another werecat because PEDIGREE, and when she met him she threatened to neuter him but that didn’t work and was still determined to marry her. Told childhood sweetheart that she had to leave and the douche cursed her. Lennie is an angry soul rightfully so, she is full of snark and sass, and has been spoiled enough and dressed up enough to know that she can wear that pretty dress and make it work. It is what comes along with being a once respected werecat to being the side piece for a Magi who is involved with a bunch of other douche bag Magis.

Needs: Allies basically the people who she crashes on their couch after she tries to run again, drinking buddies, fancy peeps who she would know through the magi, someone who maybe tried to break the curse? Old Packmates. People to do drugs with.

3.Samael Kostas - Vampire - Dracula Wife

Samael is one of many wives of “Dracula” and by many I mean three. Samael is the oldest most domineering of the wives, which has become her downfall in some aspects. Samael has a history of visual and auditory hallucinations that have only gotten worse with age. 10/10 on the awful scale, always out for a power trip and doesn’t care who she has to stomp on to get there. Killed her husband or well thought she did because WHOOPS HES COMING BACK. All in all just is out to get some power and drag people along for the ride. Has a thing for bending people over in some sort of weird power trip so just don’t trust her okay... Just don’t.

Needs: Thralls atleast one favorite If you make her Cara D I will love you forever, people for her to feed on, allies she loves having allies, dracula husband, and one more wife

4. Bjorn Ulricksson - Old Vamp - VIKING

Oh is this another vampire.. You bet your ass it is. Meet Bjorn old as hell and from the age of the vikings and always wishes it was still like that. He is blood thirsty and has made a living out of it. Works in black market things dealing with assassinations that need to happen while also making them as awful as they need to be depending on who is paying. He is currently obsessing over a brothel worker and 10/10 has killed someone over her so yknow healthy coping mechanisms and skills.

Needs: Clients, give him some clients who he can kill people for. Old friends who have been around as long as him or maybe not as long but just they drink and hang out together now and again. 

5. Aoife Jaeger - 25 - Failed Hunter

Yknow those hunter families that are awful and more or less spend more time tortuting their kids to make them good hunters as opposed to raising them with love and care. That is the story of Aoife's life. Originally hailing from Ireland and a history of hunters who have prided themselves on removing lesser beings from the face of the Earth. Somehow along the way Aoife had a conscious form or the beginning of one that is starting to make her doubt herself and her raising. Her day job as a historian has come in use to help her study the history of things and knowing the history will hopefully help her and her family end the lesser beings. She is a spinning moral compass so yknow she just needs some guidance and some ways to pull at her heart strings. Does she sometimes do some drugs to ignore the conscious that is pulling at her heart strings.. yes yes she does.

Needs: family, hunter connections, family of victims, someone who she is currently supposed to be hunting down. The supernatural she needs to fall for like give her some happiness yall.. She deserves it.

The rest of these haven’t settled in their order just yet but they are coming sooner or later.

The Collector - Vamp 

He has been around for a few years, long enough to make himself a nice little collection of playthings that he “loves”. When he found his first favorite he changed her into a vamp so he could keep her forever. He moved to crow river a while back to perfect his collection and is still looking for some more pieces... AKA he is awful but loves beautiful things and will make you a beautiful thing. 

The Thrall 

Potentially was a hunter or someone who was obsessed with finding out about the supernatural. Was born and raised in crow river, grew up in a creepy vibe family that everyone else seemed to avoid in the town. Became obsessed with finding out some things and got in over her head.

The Dying Girl

Creator of weapons, only one time she went to go make a weapon and it backfired on her then yknow she slowly started dying. Something to do with magic is the only reason she is still currently alive. She is a basket of sass and will drag you out on every adventure just to make you feel like you are alive. Life is too short to not be living it fully and she wants to make sure everyone is. Likely from a hunter family or has done something for hunter families for over the years??? Maybe also for supernaturals if they want to take out other supers???