#this man is canonically 12 apples tall

[aroaceweirdos101]

Wally is one of the only people who can get a partner despite his height - Arz

[winchester-girl67]

My Father's Daughter

Summary: Y/N gets nervous when her anti-possession tattoo heals overnight. On her second attempt to make it stick she meets a boy that she might have more in common with then she thinks.

Requested by @rachelcarroll1819​ : “Can you do ome where the readers is the daughter of luicfer that john and bobby found as a baby bobby ends up raising her as his owns then when angels show up her powers finally show up also and sje in a relationship with either dean or sam ( whichever works for me)”

Pairing: Dean x Nephilim!reader

Square: Tattoo @supernatural-jackles​

Word Count: 5,805

Warnings: some SPN spoilers for season 12-15 (mainly surrounding Jack, and nephilim), not canon, language, adoption and related topics, implied relationship with Dean before the reader’s 18th birthday (reader and Dean are both 18), implied minor allergic reaction, injured!Dean, injuried!reader, blood, a little violence (involving guns/angel blades), angst, a little pining, kissing, fluff

A/N: This is before Castiel joins the Winchester’s side, I also took some liberties with the nephilim lore. Jack is such a fun character to write for, I had to include him in this request… Enjoy :) Also written for @supernatural-jackles​’ Tell Me a Story bingo.

_____

“What the H-E-double-hockey-sticks?” You gasped at your reflection in the mirror. “Balls, that can’t be a good sign.”

You held open the collar of your flannel and traced your fingers over the unblemished flesh below your collarbone. It was easy to ignore when it happened the first time. A pencil standing on its point for three seconds longer than it should’ve was easy to play off as an illusion soaked in extreme boredom at the time. Strange occurrences were common especially around the Winchesters or anyone involved with the Winchesters, but this was- wasn’t possible. It was your eighteenth birthday yesterday and Dean brought you to get your first tattoo, an anti-possession symbol. You had it inked into the left side of your chest over your breast, just like him, but now it was gone as if it had... healed.

You decided not to tell anyone and buttoned your shirt a little higher than usual. You would just go back to the tattoo parlour today before you met up with Dean. You kept the little anomalies like this to yourself more often than not lately, after finding out you were adopted and who your biological father really was. Lucifer. Talk about daddy issues. You didn’t want anyone finding out that you had inherited anything from him. Eighteen years without a single sign of angelic anything and now you couldn’t deny there was something filtering through you, trying to get out. It felt like power.

“Meeting Dean this early, pumpkin?” Your father, Bobby, asked as you bounced down the stairs and into the kitchen. You nodded, not wanting to lie to him but it was for the best, “Do your old man a favour and grab something to eat before you head out.”

“Alright, dad.” You said, grabbing an apple from the fridge.

“You make sure that boy gets you home in time for dinner,” he cocked an eyebrow at you, “I mean it this time, Y/N. I will get my shotgun out if you’re a minute past six, got it?”

You were his little girl, but he wouldn’t actually shoot Dean, right?

You laughed and nodded, playing it off as a joke. He could only be about eighty-percent serious, at most. You didn’t have a curfew but tonight was an exception. There were family and friends and family-friends, coming over to celebrate your birthday, since yesterday was a weekday and Bobby had steaks marinating in the fridge.

“We’ll be home on time, promise. Bye, daddy.” You pecked him on the cheek and turned his cap around so the visor was in the back.

“Always with the damn hat,” he grumbled as he fixed it back to the front.

You giggled as you twirled out of the room and bit into your apple. You took a couple of bites before holding it between your lips as you laced up your boots and slipped on your jacket.

Outside, you chucked the core into the tall grass opposite the house and climbed onto your motorcycle. You started it up and pulled your hair into a quick braid for the wind, otherwise it would tangle to an extent that could never be brushed out, and took your helmet off the handlebars. You secured the strap under your chin and revved the engine as you kicked it into gear, fish-tailing around before speeding off down the laneway.

Leaves were changing colour and it was cooler outside now. For a moment you wished you had remembered your gloves but you would power through, the tattoo parlour wasn’t too far away anyway. You chose a different parlour across town than the one Dean had brought you to, just in case the artist that tattooed you the day before was on shift today too. Too many questions would be asked and you didn't have the answers.

It was easier this time around, since you knew what to expect and how much it would sting, but you hated that Dean wasn’t there to hold your hand. The woman wiped away the excess ink when she was done the final flame and held up a mirror for you to see. You grinned at the permanent ink, marring your flesh the same way it did Sam and Dean and Bobby and every other hunter you knew.

To anyone else, they’d probably think it was odd but to you it meant protection and family. It was pretty, even with the red raw edges that would eventually flatten out as your skin healed. You loved the way new tattoos raised the skin and appeared to jump out at you. You felt like a badass sporting your fresh ink and bit your lip at your excited smile.

The artist snapped a pic for her portfolio and the shop’s website and you noticed a boy about your age smiling at you from behind the gap in the privacy curtains. He was sitting in the waiting area with his hands on his knees and just staring. At. You.

“Hello.” He said when you passed him on your way out.

His blonde hair was combed to the side, unlike Dean’s whose was always spiked up like an angry hedgehog. You gave him a nod of your head and nothing more. Glancing back at the parlour as you climbed onto your motorcycle, partially just to make sure he didn’t follow you out. He didn’t give off any creeper vibes but he was… odd.

“Ow,” you hissed suddenly as your chest burned. You pulled aside your flannel to see the tattoo glowing white hot before it fizzled out. Your body healing itself again and your tattoo disappearing. You looked up at the tattoo parlour sullenly, there would be no point in trying again. “Shit-balls.”

Just when you thought puberty was over. What the hell was going on with your body now? All you could think was that your bio-dad’s genes were finally kicking in.

It would be easy enough to hide it from Bobby, not so much Dean. Things were getting heated between you two lately and it was inevitable that he’d see you in a bra again. The thing was, the only people who knew about your bio-dad were John, who had passed away a couple years ago and Bobby, who promised never to tell another living soul; especially the boys. Sam would probably understand but he was four years younger than you and he couldn’t keep a secret from his older brother. Dean on the other hand, thought of things in black and white and anything tainted with the blood of a monster must be a monster in and of itself. And Lucifer was a monster, you heard the stories.

You wanted to be like Bobby, not your bio-dad and you wanted Dean to keep loving you. Which you weren’t entirely sure was possible if you told him that you were a nephilim. Until recently you had been questioning it yourself but you couldn’t ignore the weirdness surrounding you anymore or the dreams you’d been having of a man with glowing red eyes, a raspy voice calling out to you. You always woke up in a cold sweat and now you were thinking they might be more than just dreams. Maybe if you’d said something Bobby could help you make them stop.

You started up your motorcycle and pulled on your helmet, glancing back at the parlour one last time and watching as the blonde boy walked down the steps. He still had a smile on his face when his blue eyes met yours and he raised his hand to wave. Then he started walking towards you and you didn’t stick around to find out what he wanted. You weren’t in the mood to be hit on, although you didn’t get that vibe from him. He had more of an innocence about him. You still weren't in the mood.

You must’ve drove past the laneway to your house six times before you decided you couldn’t face your father or everyone else who had congregated there for your birthday dinner. Bobby had bragged about you finally getting your anti-possession tattoo and becoming a real hunter and what if someone asked to see it? How could you explain that?

You went to the one quiet place where you could always think. The graveyard on the west side of town. You didn’t know anyone there but you felt it was nice if someone visited them from time to time. You were always respectful and you liked to sit on the bench at the back between the overgrown trees. The spot was hidden from the road and you could hear the resident owl from time to time.

It was late now and well past six, when dinner was supposed to be ready. Bobby would likely be fuming or worried as hell, probably both. On the brightside, Dean would be with him and everyone else so Bobby would have no reason to blame him or shoot him. Except it was possible he still might try.

You checked your phone to find too many messages from both Bobby and Dean, all asking where you were and when you were getting back. One more recent one asking if you were in trouble. You typed off an ‘I’m fine’ when you heard the leaves crunch under the weight of a sneaker.

You whipped your head around to find the blonde boy from the tattoo parlour peeking out from behind the trunk of a tree. He smiled brightly as he slowly approached you, waving again and if you were about to make a run for it, you no longer felt the need.

“Hello, I’m Jack. I’m sorry if I scared you earlier. This is my first time..." he paused, seemingly struggling to find the word, "-talking." He grinned again.

“O-okay.”

Did he just break some sort of oath-of-silence or something?

You were still skeptical even if you weren’t scared. He wasn’t all that big, kinda skinny, you could take him in a fight if you had to.

“Are you following me?” You asked, he smiled and nodded like he didn’t understand how creepy it was to admit to following someone. “Why, -the fuck?” You almost laughed, it was so awkward, but you settled for a single puff of air. “How’d you find me?”

"I've been looking for you, I’ve been wanting to meet you, you're not easy to find, I can only sense you some of the time -This place is nice." He glanced around, it was hardly the word you would use to describe a graveyard but what-the-hay there were stranger things at foot, “You seem troubled. Can I help?"

"Um, no? I'm just a bit confused. You ‘sensed’ me?" You asked, squinting your eyes up at him.

"You put off an energy when you're stressed and I could tell you needed me. It smells like... sour strawberries -Are strawberries good?" He asked and tilted his head. Dude was weird, but probably harmless.

“Um, yeah, when they have chocolate on them, otherwise they make my tongue feel funny.” You shrugged, Dean had bought you chocolate covered strawberries for Valentine’s day, almost made it worth the itchy throat. “Why do you think I need you? I don't need you, I don't even know you.”

“We have more in common than you think.” He alluded and you wanted to wipe that smirk off his face as he stood there.

“I’m getting impatient, Jack, and you won’t like me when I’m impatient.” You quipped and he tilted his head in confusion. Dean was rubbing off on you, after all those hours watching ‘classic’ movies with him. “Okay, I’ll bite. Why do you feel so familiar?” That was the feeling you were picking up from him, a closeness; you finally figured it out.

“I’m your brother.”

Your face blanched, “The only person I’d consider a brother is Sammy -even if it is a little awkward since I am dating his actual brother- but we’re not related, we just grew up together, sort of... our dad’s knew each other and we hung out… quite a bit actually but that’s not the point. I don’t have blood relatives, up here, anyway.”

“But we have one in common, down there." Jack pointed as he laughed and sat down beside you.

You scooched over to the end of the bench, "So... Your father...?"

"Is Lucifer, yes, and so is yours." He said.

Did he always smile? He seemed too cheery to be a descendant of the Devil himself. At least you had the decency to be unbearably irritable once a month.

"Prove it," you smirked back snidely. Yup, too much time around Dean.

"Okay," he pulled a long silver blade from his jacket, one you knew as an angel blade and levitated it in the air. He moved his fingers and the blade mimicked his motions. "Pretty cool, huh?"

You nodded and remembered the pencil; could you do something like that someday? Maybe you had to focus more or less, he didn't seem to put much effort into it.

"Do you want to try?" He asked, grabbing the blade from mid air and handing it over to you. "It's easy, just focus on what you want it to do and make it happen."

You focused on the blade in your hands and squinted your eyes, picturing it spinning in a circle like a top. You almost burst a blood vessel in your eye before you huffed and gave up, "It's no use! I can't do it."

"You're just trying too hard. We can work on it," he smiled again and you handed him back the blade.

Jack wasn't a threat, somehow you just knew, but how long was he planning on staying? And if he stayed you'd have to explain yourself and him to Bobby, that wasn't something you were looking forward to.

"Do you have any tattoos?" You asked.

"No, should I?" He asked, his smile fell and he looked worried for a moment as if you wouldn't like him if he didn't.

"I tried to get one, twice now, but it keeps healing." You pulled open your flannel a little to touch the skin where the tattoo should've been. "Kinda sucks, you know? I've been injured on hunts before and I have scars, so it doesn't make any sense to me. Why now?"

"Maybe..." he thought and tucked the blade back into his jacket, "Your powers are only developing now because you grew up slowly. You had a normal adolescence."

"I'd hardly call my childhood normal," you rolled your eyes. You were raised as a hunter and Bobby took you out for target practice every Sunday and when John and the boys were in town, you would have to participate in sparring and weapons training, all before you could read. And when you could read, lore was added to your studies along with your typical -normal school work. "How come you have your powers already then? You're about my age."

"I had to grow up faster than you, there are things -people here that want to hurt me and I needed them to protect myself." He explained, “That’s probably why yours are just showing up, your body feels it too.”

“Feels what?”

“Our father, his return.”

“Bio-dad, Lucifer?” You huffed, “Uh-yeah, I don’t think so. My surrogate dad sealed him in a cage eighteen years ago with the late-great John Winchester, you might’ve heard of him? Trust me, dude, we’re safe.”

“You can’t feel him? Maybe I can help you along,” Jack reached out to touch your forehead with two fingers and before you could push his hand away your body was flooded with images, feelings, light, dark, energy -it was too much and you pulled away, trying to catch your breath and blink away the numbing headache.

You gulped and met his blue eyes, “How are you only a day old?!”

Not only had he transferred everything he felt to you but also every memory he ever had, tracing back to even when they were just feelings in the womb of his mother. You didn’t remember any of the same stuff from your own life. How could you be the same but totally different? You were stressed beyond belief, your mind racing a mile a minute and that’s when you noticed the pulsing light coming from your palms.

“Um, Jack,” you said, inspecting your palms and turning them to face him as the light got brighter and pulsed more frequently with every heavy heartbeat. “What’s happening to me?”

“I helped you find your powers, they were -uh… hidden. I just pulled them to the surface so now you can access them.” He smiled and you gaped as a single pulse of light left your palms, hitting Jack like a force field and knocking him off the bench. He landed a good ten metres away but shook it off and stood back up, “-Ouch.”

Voices filled your mind as if multiple people were whispering in your ears all at once and they kept getting louder and louder until all you heard was a blaring hiss as if a radio was in the midst of tuning. You fell off the bench, clutching your ears with your hands, squeezing your eyes shut as if it would help.

You screamed over the noise though you couldn’t hear yourself, “Jack! Jack!”

You felt his hands rest over yours and a moment later the noise faded away. You sighed and blinked open your eyes. Your ears felt as if they were bleeding and you touched them to check.

“What the balls was that?” You asked, catching your breath.

“Angel radio, I forgot to warn you it can be overwhelming but you’ll get the hang of it. It gets easier to tune out with practice.” Jack said, helping you to your feet.

“I don’t like it.”

“Yeah, me either.”

“All I really heard was buzzing, will I be able to understand them? When I get the hang of it.” You could hardly believe this was your life now, hearing angelic voices in your head and pulsing shockwaves from your palms.

“Yes,” he nodded, “The pain will always be there though.”

“What were they saying?” You asked, noticing the dirt on your jeans and brushing off your knees.

“It was a distress signal about Lucifer.” Jack explained, brushing some crumpled bits of dried leaves from your shoulder.

You heard someone approach, heavy on their heels, “Get away from her!” Dean yelled with his gun drawn, eyeing Jack like he was ready to kill.

But you didn’t want him to hurt Jack, your little brother, “Dean, No!” You spun around and held up a hand. You didn’t mean to release another shockwave and it sent Dean flying into the tree behind him. He hit it back first and slumped to the ground, unconscious. “DEAN!”

You ran to him and cradled him in your arms, pulling his head to your chest. Tears welled in your eyes and dripped onto his cheeks as you curled over him and rocked back and forth. You didn’t know if it was your new powers but you could tell he wasn’t okay. He hit his head hard and you didn’t even know if he’d wake back up.

“Stay right there, boy.” You heard your father’s voice warn Jack as he approached you.

“Daddy?” You sobbed.

“It’s okay, pumpkin, he’s gonna be okay.” Bobby crouched next to you and inspected Dean’s head. His hand was covered in blood when he touched the back of it. He frowned and scrubbed the other palm over his scruff, “Oh, balls! Hang on, Dean.”

“Y/N,” Jack risked a step forward even with Bobby’s gun still trained on him. “I can help him. I’ve done it before.”

He had, hadn’t he? A single memory of Jack healing his birth mom while still in her womb came to mind. He wasn’t lying. You nodded and put your hand on Bobby’s gun to lower it. You weren’t even sure at this point if a bullet could even hurt him... or you anymore. Now that you feel more angelic than human.

Jack knelt next to Dean and laid a hand on his head. His fingers glowed a warm gold, the same colour as his irises and you felt Dean’s body react; his heart stabilizing with stronger beats and his breathing evening out until he began to stir. You watched intently as his green eyes fluttered open and you wiped away your tears, then dried his cheeks with your thumbs.

“Are you okay?” You whispered when he locked eyes with you.

He stared up at you, registering all that just happened and then a shot rang through your ears. Dean sat up and pushed away from you, his gun smoking in his hand and you looked down at your chest. Where he shot you.

“Idjit! What did you do?!” Bobby yelled at Dean and tried to inspect your wound. It actually didn’t hurt all that much and when you opened your shirt, the same golden glow you’d seen moments ago healed the wound until it was as if it was never there.

“That’s not Y/N! What are you, you bitch?! What did you do with her?!” Dean shouted, raising his gun again. "I swear if you hurt her-"

“Boy, you better put that gun down if you wanna see your next birthday.” Bobby warned and Dean glanced between you both, noting that he was the one out of the loop. He lowered the gun but kept it ready on his thigh and felt the back of his head curiously. “I was wonderin’ when those nephilim powers of yours would kick in, the only question I got is... Who in the holy balls is this guy?” Bobby asked, nudging his head towards Jack.

You always loved how he could incorporate balls into any sentence whether it fit or not and you guessed you did it too; you were your father’s daughter after all.

“He’s -um, my brother. Half-brother.” You said and glanced back at Jack who smiled and held a hand up as if to shake your father’s. Bobby didn’t reciprocate though and you added, “On my bio-dad’s side, obviously.”

It was well known that a human mother couldn't survive the birth of a nephilim child. Your note was more to tip off Bobby to shut up in front of Dean about it. Not that Bobby took the hint since he probably felt the cat was out of the bag anyways.

“So, good-old Lucy got sprung from the cage, eh? I figured that would happen eventually -was hoping for more time though.” Bobby grunted and fixed his cap like he did when he was unnerved and not wanting to show it.

“Am I the only one who doesn’t have a fucking clue what in the hell is going on? Y/N?!” Dean huffed and furrowed his brow.

“I -um,” you didn’t know how to explain. “I -um, I’m adopted. Surprise.”

“You’re Lucifer’s daughter?” Dean asked, catching on quickly.

The light in his eyes dimmed at the idea and you knew you needed to correct him and fast.

"No! No, I am Bobby’s daughter and I suppose... a by-product of Lucifer’s sperm donation.”

Dean nodded, then cringed. "That’s kind of gross.”

“I’m still me, Dean, the girl you’re in love with but won’t ever admit it to.” You said, hoping for him to see you the same way he did before. “I’m the same girl.”

“No, you’re not. Your eyes are different.” He stared hard like he was trying to see past something.

You looked to Bobby as if he had the answers, “Your eyes are glowing, pumpkin.”

You imagined your reflection with the eyes you’d seen Jack wear when his powers filtered through him. Then you felt it, the difference, you weren’t in control of them yet, they manifested with the waves in your emotions. It was extremely hard to control.

“Jack, how do I make it stop?” You asked and squeezed your eyes shut.

“Take a deep breath and let it go.” Jack said.

You didn’t think it could really be that fucking easy, but gave it a try. When you opened your eyes again you could feel the light dimming and then extinguish. You were exhausted.

“I wanna go home.” You looked to your father and he nodded. Jack’s smile seemed to turn upside down and you added, “Can Jack come too?”

“Might as well, party’s cleared out anyhow.” Bobby stood up and eyed Jack, sizing him up. You could tell your father didn’t trust him yet, but you knew Jack was good, you could feel it.

“Sorry I missed the party.” You stood up and hugged Bobby.

“Don’t worry about it, pumpkin.” He patted your back and ruffled up your hair when you broke the hug. You frowned and tried to tuck the loose strands of hair back into your braid. “We should get outta here before-”

You heard what could only be described as a rush of feathers before a bald man in a suit appeared before you, "Hello, Robert.”

“It’s Bobby, jackass.”

There was another louder rush and two others appeared next to him. One of them oddly wore a trench-coat over his suit. You knew instantly that these men were angels. You could see their halos shine brightly above their heads. A side effect of finally getting your nephilim powers you assumed. In all your time hunting you hadn't come across any angels, you never wanted to either based off of the stories Bobby and other hunters told you.

"Zachariah," Bobby said, nodding at the bald angel before him, then the other in the tight suit, "Uriel... long time, no see."

You knew from your studies that Uriel was an archangel, by far more powerful than the others, even if he seemed to let Zachariah take charge at the moment.

“I thought we had an understanding." Zachariah continued, "If the nephilim child showed any signs of getting her powers you were supposed to contact me, right away."  

“Like you wouldn’t have known, don’t you have some sort of angelic radar? As soon as the kid showed any signs of grace you'd feel it. That’s why you’re here isn’t it.” Bobby snapped back at the man, or angel wearing some poor sap as a meat-suit like a demon would.

“Precisely, which is why we wanted to avoid an event large enough to attract our attention. She hurt the boy, didn't she? That could've been avoided. She is an abomination and she will offset the order of the universe, given the time; there’s only one way to deal with this sort of thing... Castiel.”

The angel wearing the trench-coat stepped forward with a stoic face as if he was about to carry out some unspoken order. Like a good little soldier of heaven. An angel blade dropped into his hand from his shirtsleeve and he advanced towards you. You stumbled back and Jack grabbed your hand and puffed out his chest. Castiel stopped in his tracks just as both your eyes began to glow.

“That can’t be.” Castiel said as he backed off. He glanced back at Zachariah and then disappeared with a flutter of his wings. At least he knew when he was outranked.

The others however, Zachariah and Uriel, did not retreat and advanced upon you. Each with their own angel blade in hand. You and Jack channeled your powers together and raised your hands. You released a joint shockwave that blew them apart to mere atoms which floated away in the wind like snowflakes on a cold winter day. Your power alone was great, but together it was unmatched.

There would be no issues destroying or caging Lucifer when the time came for it. But you would have to find him first. Or maybe he would find you now that your powers had emerged. Apparently it sent up a pretty big blip on the angelic radar or whatever Bobby called it and Lucifer was probably still connected to that, right? Or at least had some sort of version of it.

"Holy hell,” Bobby cursed, “Come on, Y/N, we best be getting home before someone or something else comes looking for them or who did that to 'em."

You let your father lead the way to his truck and towed Jack along with you. Meanwhile Dean trailed behind keeping a watchful eye on your new found brother. All the while not saying much.

He didn't say anything actually, not even when you remembered your motorcycle. He just took the keys from you so you could drive back with your family. Or maybe he just didn't want to be squished into the cab of that old Ford with a being more powerful than an archangel -that was born yesterday- and your father. Bobby was super protective of you, and Dean and his relationship was strained because of that. It was a miracle they drove here together without someone getting shot now that you thought of it.

And Dean's silent treatment continued for days longer than any fight you'd had with him since you had gotten together. You didn't even know if you were still together anymore. So to say you were surprised to see him show up when Bobby and Jack went out on a day trip for some bonding, was an understatement.

"Hiya, sweetheart." Dean said, standing in the front doorway and glancing behind you, his eyes searching the space. "Bobby out?" He asked, you nodded, "How 'bout your -uh... b-brother?"

"You mean Jack?" You asked, he'd probably just forgotten his name. Dean gave you a soft smile and nodded twice, "Yeah, s'just me home. Why, you come to snuff out the monsters? One abomination at a time?"

Dean pushed his brows together and frowned down at you. "Listen, girly-"

"Girly?!-"

"Y/N," Dean pleaded, slipping your name off his tongue with his hands held up as if to pose no threat. "I know Bobby said you needed time and you didn't wanna talk to me, but I just gotta get this off my chest and then I'm gone, okay? Can you just listen? Please."

That wasn't true. Bobby lied. But you motioned for him to continue anyways.

"I was pissed at you. For not telling me, not trusting me. You were there for me when my father-" Dean choked up and cleared his throat. His eyes watered as he searched for the right words to say, "I just -I didn't understand why you didn't want me there for you, so I blamed you. But then I thought about it, really thought about it and it's no wonder you couldn't trust me, hell, why would you? All I've ever done is maim and kill-"

You'd heard enough, "Dean, I trust you! Nothing's ever going to change that and I didn't tell my dad to tell you shit. You just looked so hurt, I didn't know how to reach out and thought maybe you didn't want me to." You chewed on your lip before you decided to swallow your embarrassment and rolled your eyes at yourself, "Fuck it, I love you." It was the first time either of you said that out loud, "And I know at one point you felt the same about me and I guess, I'm just hoping that's still the case?"

Dean gave a delicate nod and shrug of his shoulders, "You'll always belong with me, Y/N." He confessed and stepped forward to wrap his arms around you. You let him and he pressed his forehead to yours. "And I care about you, too."

It hurt a little that he didn't say it back, but that was close enough for you. Dean wasn't touchy-feely in the case of emotions and you didn't need to make him say it. You felt it in the way he clutched you to him and you sunk into his embrace.

Dean pressed a hard kiss to your temple and another open lipped kiss to your cheek. You felt the heat of his breath on your lips before his mouth molded to yours and your tongues touched. His movements were slow and passionate and when his fingertips touched that ticklish spot on your neck you giggled into the kiss.

He felt like coming home; safety and warmth in his arms. Even if you didn't need protecting anymore, it was nice. It was the first time in days you let yourself relax and it seemed like you weren't the only one.

Dean pulled away to let you catch your breath and you slowly blinked open your eyes to meet his. He let out a breathy chuckle and his forehead fell to yours again, his eyes admiring yours with an amused grin on his face.

"Your eyes are glowing," he breathed and sucked on his bottom lip. "You are so damn beautiful.” And he brushed the hair from your face. “You’re everything to me.” You felt his eyelashes brush your cheek and his hand sink from your lower back to grip your butt cheek. "You’re my everything.”

Your cheeks instantly hurt from smiling so bright at his words.

His other hand met on your backside and you squealed when he squeezed hard enough to bruise, but only for a second. Dean chuckled, slapped your butt and kissed you again. And you got lost in it.

Until the backdoor slammed shut, “Boy, get your damn hands off my daughter!" Bobby commanded as he set the cooler he was carrying on top of the counter.

Jack followed in behind him and smiled at Dean with a small wave.

Dean stopped kissing you and raised his hands as he stepped away from you. He was grinning wildly and biting his lip, his eyes roaming your body like they always did before they held your gaze.

You so easily fell back into the way things were before with him and this was the good part. The part where you could speak novels with a wink of an eye. It was like a language only the two of you could speak and he was saying 'I still love you, so damn much'.

Your father cleared his throat and you rolled your eyes, "Dad, I thought you said you were taking Jack fishing? Shouldn't that take a couple more hours?"

"Not a chance, pumpkin." Bobby side-eyed Dean, "Besides, kid, already caught a week's worth. He's a natural." He boasted, coming around to Jack much faster than you expected him to.

"I'm a natural," Jack repeated and beamed with a little tilt of his head. He bounced on his heels, twice, he was so excited.

You groaned and shook your head, "I'm surrounded by dorks."

"What's a dork?" Jack asked and furrowed his brow.

Dean answered, "A little brother."

_________________________ Dean: @akshi8278 @laycblack @thoughts-and-funnies @mrsjenniferwinchester @crustycheeks @kazsrm67 @sexyvixen7 @lyarr24 @suckitands33  @eliwinchester99 @yvonneeeee @igotmajordaddyissues @djs8891 @leigh70 @globetrotter28

Forever SPN: @hobby27​

Tell Me a Story Bingo: @princessvader15

[purpledogcreations]

The Aftons (Our Version)

Dog and Purple

All art commissioned from @/scarabeesoleil on instagram 

William J. Afton, 35 years old, came from an affluent family in London. After marrying Cora Afton, maiden name Cora Schmidt, at age 18, both of them immigrated to the United States where uh- he went to Brown University, majoring in Engineering and minoring in Business. Although from the outside he may appear to be a perfectly normal and doting father to his 3 children and a devoted husband to his wife, behind closed doors William is far from the loving and caring man he portrays himself to be.

1. Initially, I didn’t want William to be wearing purple, but after consulting with an artist friend and sending her this rough plan for his outfit, she changed it to purple and I figured well…it is his staple color.

2. William’s whole deal is that he’s sorta cosplaying the working class. William is rich, but in a small town being rich and appearing rich wouldn’t benefit his social status, he wants to appear as approachable and down-to-earth as possible.

3. The apron was a bit of a compromise. William wouldn’t be caught dead in coveralls because he views that as too beneath him, but he can’t go to work wearing a suit and tie because that would sorta wreck the whole “not looking rich” thing he’s going for. So business casual with an apron to keep his outfit clean was what we landed on. And of course, when the apron fails there’s always a change of clothes in the trunk.

4. And as a bonus- here’s his eye color.

Cora Marguerite Afton, 35, was born to a lower-middle-class family in London and is the youngest of 4 daughters. She began dancing ballet at 13 years old and quit before marrying William. She immigrated to the United States with her husband in 1966 and gave birth to her first child in 1971. Cora is used to letting other people make decisions on her behalf but isn’t afraid to argue when she feels something is wrong. She’s a hard-working mother who truly loves her children, but she’s in over her head.

1. For Cora, I didn’t want her to appear very fashionable for the time period. I also wanted her to be in an outfit that covered most of her body. Although this choice for her was more born out of necessity than a desire to be “modest”.

2. Cora’s hair is curly, but her curls aren’t well-maintained, she dry- brushes them out and then doesn’t bother much further with them, she’s far too busy with her children to really take care of herself the way she needs to.

3. O- here’s Cora’s eye color (s). Her eyes are hazel which is a mixture of brown and green.

Michael J. Afton, 12, eldest of the Afton children. Michael isn’t exactly vicious, but he has trouble knowing when he’s gone too far. The apple of his father’s eye, Michael can seemingly do no wrong and gets away with far more than his peers and younger siblings do. Being the favorite/treated the best doesn’t mean he gets treated well, though, and he has taken to bullying and starting fights with his peers and his younger siblings in order to get the attention he desires. When push comes to shove, Michael still loves his younger siblings.

1. We mostly stuck with canon Michael’s appearance with our design, some jorts, and a t-shirt that he’s cut the sleeves off of. Why is it white? Well, he owns more than one t-shirt and he has a habit of cutting the sleeves off of them. He really wants to show off his non-existent muscles.

2. Michael is 5ft which is pretty tall for a 12-year-old, but his dad is 6’2” so he still has a ways to go when it comes to growing.

3. Fun fact: he’s wearing converse if you couldn’t tell already. And here’s his eye color.

Anthony Afton, 8, middle Afton child. Anthony has always been a sweet and sensitive kid, much to his father’s dismay. Still, he wasn’t always this sensitive, and he wasn’t always this prone to clinging to his mother for support. Something happened, something that sent Anthony back a few steps, and something that turned his wild imagination into something he can no longer control.

1. Anthony has a sort of deer-in-the-headlights expression, we wanted him to contrast with the rest of his family who are mostly looking to the side, instead of that he’s staring directly into your soul.

2. I wanted Anthony to look like he’s wearing hand-me-downs. His clothes are sorta baggy and ill-fitted.

3. Anthony’s eye color.

Elizabeth L. Afton, 6, youngest of the Afton children. Elizabeth is a true daddy’s girl, and can often be found tinkering with various stolen scraps of her father’s animatronics. She wants to be just like him when she grows up. But no matter how many little projects she puts together, or how many times she tries practicing his mannerisms in her mirror, she can never quite seem to catch his attention. She just doesn’t know why.

1. Elizabeth is the only Afton kid wearing purple, it’s her favorite color, but initially, we planned for her to be wearing more pink or yellow. I looked up a lot of 80s dress patterns when picking her dress and I had the most fun picking out her outfit, to be honest.

2. Elizabeth is fucking short.

3. Elizabeth’s eyecolor.

You might be asking us “DOG, PURPLE, WHY THE FUCK DO YOU NEED CANON DESIGNS? THIS IS AN AUDIO DRAMA.” well comrades it’s because we’re going to be using these designs for promo and thumbnail art. That’s why.

Bonus bonus: Here is a height chart. :D

[captainkawaii666]

Isaac Moriah

I’ve talked about my Godzilla AU a good bit, and my Mega Man AU a little, but I haven’t touched on the Spider-Man, Isaac, or Nuclear Throne (which I was originally not gonna post about but I changed my mind) ones at all. So, without further ado, it’s Isaacing time!

Isaac Moriah is a creative and inventive child, who also suffers from anxiety, depression, social anxiety, and constant mental breakdowns. He’s older than in the canon here (12 or 13) but still only 3 apples tall. She’s genderfluid and uses he/she/they pronouns.

Unlike in the original game, in my AU project Isaac didn’t venture into the Basement just to escape from their mother (though that was still a part of it). He was also trying to find her sister Magdalene, who had vanished about a year earlier and who they believe is in the Basement.

Something about Isaac separates him from the rest of the people and creatures in the Basement, and this makes her a target for many dangerous individuals, including Eden, Satan, Greed, and Rag Man. They’ve also begun hearing a strange voice he believe belongs to her father, which has been guiding them through the Basement to an unknown location…

[simmonsized]

Is it cool if I keep asking for your hcs? They’re pretty fun tbh. I got excited seeing the notification for the last one and they did not disappoint. Maybe I’ll ask for Alpha Dave this time because he’s pretty fun in your fic. I love his characterization a lot! Mom Lalonde would be nice too but hmm, maybe next ask? Or do both if you’d like to. It’s really up to you.

I just really like your guardians hehe.

Of course!!!! Honestly it is a lot of fun for me and it gives me an excuse to talk because, you know! Tbh it's the first time anyone has asked me in depth about any of the silly stuff I spend all my time thinking about, so I kind of love it! (also please always ask abt the guardians, i really like them, too!!)

WARNING THIS GOT AWAY FROM ME AFTER ALL IT’S VERY LONG I’M SORRY

SO: Alpha Dave (in context of rng)

A!Dave (and Bro) broke his nose when he was 13, for plot reasons, so his nose is slightly crooked (lists to the left)

He is Tall and hunches constantly because he hates being the tallest person in the room but no he doesn't but yes he does

Also it makes it easier to talk to people shorter than him

He can in fact fit into alpha Rose's clothes

He's a nail biter

This man has anxiety

He didn't get his glasses until he met Ben Stiller obviously so before that he would just wear very funny plastic sunglasses

Speaking of plastic this man own nothing but plastic cups EXCEPT

He owns one Whataburger mug that he has had since he was 10

He slept on John Crocker's floor for like, 4 years when he said he was going to college (he did not go to college)

This man did not even bother finishing high school

The Con Air Museum was a birthday present for John (he never got to see it in person)

Absolutely refuses to eat the crusts on his pizza and leaves them lying around the house for weeks until someone else picks them up

Only owns 7 pairs of socks god help him

Yes some of them have no heel

Also Left-handed for obvious reasons

collected Zoobooks until the fall of the humanity meant the publishing company went under

He keeps them in the back of his closet where no one but him will ever know

The secret to guardians is that they are duty-bound to their "kid", even if it means dying for them (example Mr bro bad man strider) but their separation over time and a whole life lived has caused Dave (and Rose) to lose most of that. Interpret any changes after meeting Dirk as you will

He is really bad with kids, mostly because

Dave Strider does not like kids

He does not like talking to kids, does not know how to talk to kids, because by the time he died at 65, there were no kids left for him to talk to, and he is just. Kind of a weird dude

My man has not had an apple juice in literally 16 years

Also to reference my last post, the alpha guardian formula [(2024+4n)-1995+t] means he and Rose were 65 when they died, according to RNG canon

He also broke his arm when he was 12 :)

He has never been to Disneyworld but used to take himself to Disneyland once a year for Christmas, sometimes Rose if she would fly out for him

He used to work in a record shop in Houston

This man can cook even less than Mom Lalonde

all his chapter titles have a theme

He does not like puppets but his proximity to Dirks (and Bro) are giving him pretty much unwanted exposure therapy lmfao

His favorite soda is Cherry Cola :)!

This man has never wanted anyone to like him as much as he desperately wants every iteration of Dirk Strider to like him

He is more interested in getting his own way than placating people, and this causes him to routinely mow over other people's thoughts and feelings

If he realizes he cannot get his way this way, he switches to Being Nice

He cannot (will not) stop following after Bro Strider like a lost dog after a bone no this will not change

It's fucked up but he is genuinely jealous that, at times, Dirk appears to get along better with Bro than he does with Dave

He uses strawberry scented shampoo

But still buys cvs brand detergent yes even now

He has scars across his knuckles in the exact same pattern as Bro Strider

He's also got the same scar across his palm as Bro :)

Only ties his shoes into bunny ears

There was a time when the alpha guardians did not know that their lil packages would never arrive

Can sleep literally everywhere on everything

Undisclosed back injury that causes bouts of sciatica from time to time

Is 120% more likely to accidentally kill a person than Bro Strider, but both of them have that kind of control you only get from a lifetime of not being particularly kind to yourself

Not afraid of blood

Has always wanted to go to a candy store

Actually likes driving BUT

Possibly the second most reckless driver out of all the guardians, after Mom Lalonde

Has some fucked up way of viewing both the Daves through the lens of his younger self, but unfortunately for all Daves, dead (or recently back to life) daves are the enemy

Did not learn how to swim until he was in his teens

Alpha Rose Lalonde was his only friend for like 20 years and my god, it shows

It is actually so fucking funny to me that bro spent so long trying to get Dave to stab him, on purpose, and yes this is also about Bro but mostly about Dave, and yes, he was in fact hoping Dave would stab him, and he was also a little disappointed that Dave had enough control to stop himself

Probably also impressed

Dave thought he was fucking insane (he is) and thus felt guilty every single fucking time because it's just a Dirk (bad)

But also at the same time has the same compulsion as Bro to like. Poke him until one of them gets stabbed by a sword, on purpose.

Wears a watch for the funnies

I really like the concept that Dave and Rose both maintained some kind of connection to their aspects but for Dave who never had a connection to the horrorterrors or Light (fortune), he mostly came across as what I am currently calling "a Failed Knight" (thus my joke about the old knight adage, "service without complaint")

Has a tendency to put things into his pockets instead of his sylladex without thinking about it

Started smoking younger than Bro

Pall malls, always, shitty on purpose, yes

Learned to sit still during [redacted] but has since pretty much lost that ability and is now completely fucking unlikely to stand still for longer than necessary unless it's like

Performative

I think he is more likely to yell than Dave, because that cold anger is a Learned Trait, and I think he has a lot to be angry about

He absolutely is going to need bifocals one day never before has a man squinted so much as a computer screen for so long

Coffee is half his diet

His favorite color is blue

stardust is an intentional parallel of neptunium

Remember that time Dave beheaded a juggalo president and no one talks about it what the fuck is up with that

He also has a fucked up death scar but I think I already said that

Thank you for asking I'm realizing I could go forever so I'm stopping here

[littlefreya]

The Way to Hell - Part 9

MANY Thanks to @raspberrydreamclouds who designed this cover as a gift! ☝

Summary: Post Mi6, Alternate Canon. August escapes Ethan Hunt with his face intact and is currently the most dangerous man alive. Unwilling to back down from his murderous agenda, he plots to continue where he stopped, unaware of the trained assassin who is sent to bring him down.

Chapters: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10| Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Completed.

Pairing: August Walker x OFC (Lacey)

Word count: 8.3k

Warnings: Dark themes, smut, fluff and angst. Unprotected sex, hints of stalking, violence, swearing, sexual mentions, slight gore, choking, death.   

A/N: Okay, this chapter is long, it was hard to write, you guys may never speak to me again after this. So I’ll just post it now, and turn off my phone and hide beneath the blanket with excessive anxiety. Thanks @agniavateira for editing my work and being my muse.💖 

As always, comments and feedback are more than welcome 💖💕

*No permission is given for reposting my work, copying it or parts of the source material and claiming it as your own*

Title: Lacey

~*~

Have you paid the ferryman?

~*~

The cool light of fluorescent doesn’t do the honeyed gold of her hair justice. 

Doe eyes meet him, a striking green. Pure, like freshly-cut grass on a spring morning. The navy-coloured suit she wears counters the sunny shade of her slightly curly hair. She sports mid-length tassels, cut neatly just above her shoulders. She looks like she had it done this morning by the looks of it . 

“Hartmann, Lacey.”

Sitting at his desk with a pen pressed to his lips, the CIA agent observes her while ignoring the small hand in front of him. A tall, fit man in his late 20’s, face clean-shaven, hair like pure chocolate, combed neatly to the side but for a large rogue curl that falls on his brow. He collects it between his fingers and attempts to tuck it back in place.

“I don’t do partners, sweetcheeks.” he retorts after a short glance and turns away from the young agent, returning to his computer to browse a file he was just reading before she interrupted him.

An amused sigh passes through her plump lips as she shakes her head with sheer disbelief. “Do you have it any more cliche than that?” 

“I might, depending how long you are going to loom over there, princess.” August shoots back and slightly adjusts the tie around his shirt collar, not bothering to face the young woman again. It’s obvious what this is: a muzzler, or rather a babysitter in the form of a really good-looking girl. 

He fights the temptation to take another gander at the way her hair frames the apples of her rosy cheeks. 

“But since you’re already here, how about you fulfil your purpose in life and get me a cup of coffee? Double espresso, no sugar.”

August shoots her a look, observing her immediate reaction. Lacey’s green eyes widen, her mouth slightly opens. She rubs her knuckle between the soft pads of her fingers while thinking of what could be a suitable response to his disrespectful request.

I guess Erica didn’t bother prepping her.

Sloane, the heartless lioness. She leered at him with that sour look on her face since the day he stepped into the building. He swears the woman must have slices of lemons hidden in her panties. There is not even a drop of respect in those dark eyes whenever he sits in her office. Nor does she harbour any trust in his performance on the field. 

It all just worsened thanks to Ukraine. 

The explosion in the old Soviet power plant killed dozens of innocent lives at the cost of one. Though that man was responsible for the death of thousands, if not more. 

If you want to tear down a building, you better use a fucking hammer.

That cunt should thank him and promote him. 

“Nothing but daddy’s boy.” That’s what she sees in him. He might as well be another dead CIA agent like his father, then. Erased from memory, his great achievements discredited. At least he doesn’t have a family to throw to the dogs so they can rip them to shreds.

Oh Sloane, if only you knew half of the shit that goes beneath that stuck-up nose of yours.

Releasing another deep sigh, Lacey slumps to the seat in front of him, crossing her long legs together and leaning back in her chair while grabbing the folder on her desk. Her lips clamp together tightly, trying to hide the saltiness on her face. Long lashes curtain her eyes which pretend to read through the file. August rolls his eyes with annoyance, trying to ignore her existence and continue working his way through a case he’s been reading before she interrupted him. 

Yet every now and then his storm-touched eyes peer at the naive-looking woman, observing her and trying to determine how long will she last.

~*~

Is this hell?

~*~

That dusting of freckles on her nose and the fresh shimmer in her eyes give out much softness, yet she is anything but weak. Lacey Hartmann is a shield-maiden of some sort. For 2 months she withstood August’s “boot camp,” meaning she appeared unaffected by his cold demeanour.

At times there is even a hint of a smile hiding beneath that peach shade lipstick when August challenges her with an obscene dark joke. A hint of amusement tints the green of her irises, but she never dares to admit it. 

Too coy, almost chaste, yet iron-willed. 

August finds her behaviour borderline masochistic as he continues to prize her with nothing but arctic affection. Even so, she always listens when he speaks, her eyes open with pure intent, a fertile green field in her glance. 

Something spikes at the marrow of his bones, intrigue or so. Trivial thoughts find themselves latching into the tunnels of his complicated mind. His CIA brain begins to note her morning routine. A glacial stare registers the vanilla latte she drinks almost religiously every morning at 9, with two teaspoons of sugar. Lacey has a sweet tooth, it seems. She never misses dessert at the cantine and he once caught her bending the rules and sneaking candies back from their previous mission at eastern Europe.

He also noticed how when she is nervous, she twirls a finger in her hair with agitation and chews her plump lips. 

Blue is another point of interest. The colour seems to be dominant in her attire and accessories for some cryptic reason, though. not obsessively. She wears black or grey but then ties a silk scarf the shade of the sky around her delicate throat. When she is having a bad hair day, it’s the red pencil suit that draws attention to her body instead. The combination is horrifying when she sits in front of him holding her favourite mug which is glittery cerulean. 

He begins to wonder about her life outside of the headquarters. Her file rested in his apartment for weeks yet only recently he found himself bored enough to peek inside and read about her personal life. No husband is listed under her marital state, yet he wonders if a woman as attractive as Lacey has a man waiting for her at home. Someone kind, he imagines, and pitiful. She looks like a woman lacking a strong man in her life. 

“Are you going to finish that?” 

August’s brows furrow as she cuts into his adventurous trails of thought. His glassy eyes pierce at her as she sits in front of him at the cantine, sharing a lunch table. He hardly speaks during lunch anyway, and only listens to her musings with the usual sulk on his face. 

Lacey appears slightly frightened when she sees his menacing expression, yet her fright melts into a soft blush and a coy grin, in an attempt to pacify him. He nudges the plate with a slice of chocolate cake in her direction. 

“No, go ahead.” he watches as she digs her fork into it with excitement, her eyes shutting with near orgasmic pleasure as the chocolate melts on her tongue.  

His mind continues to wander, offering him possible imaginary visions of her personal life while she mumbles something in the background about the cake being outrageous. 

Her home address would be in that file too. 

It’s nothing but idle curiosity, after all.

~*~

You don’t believe in hell.

~*~

It’s been over 6 months of enduring her by his side. August imagined she’d run off crying to Sloane 2 days after being forced into this partnership, but she keeps a vow of secrecy, even when he bends a guideline or two during missions or violates nearly every HR policy. At first, she would warn him about his behaviour, but now she just calls it “The Walker Way”. 

It almost feels like he has a partner in crime. 

They arrived in Sicily a night ago, their mission is to locate and capture a millionaire-turned-terrorist and bring him in for questioning. It’s a  high profile target, which means the CIA spared no expense providing them with the finest hotel suites and fancy attire to attend a gallery opening. An informant suggested the suspect might be doing his bidding at the same mansion. 

Lacey meets August at the hotel’s main parking lot, wearing a cornflower blue mermaid-cut gown. Threads of silver adorn the outlines of her cleavage and little pieces of sparkling glitter draw his attention to her bust. He doesn’t attempt to hide the way his eyes fixate on her breasts. Beaming at the pale pink fat of her bosom before his gaze finally wanders to meet her face, giving her his regular cocky stance.

Is she wearing a bra underneath?

“You look handsome,” Lacey compliments, swallowing a complaint about the obvious way he objectified her. “We look as if we’ve matched colours.” The royal blue three-piece suit brings out the ocean in his eyes and she allows herself to dwell in the calm water as she glances back, offering him a smile.

Stoic, he ignores her praises, studying her face quietly. The shade on her lips is not the usual one; it’s darker, making her look more vamping. He doesn’t like it, her natural appearance is sweet and supple, and this colour clashes with her complexion and the concept of her in his mind.

The unnerving silence between them greatly challenges her. The need to crack the autumn evening air with some sort of dialogue pans in her chest. 

“Are you…” Lacey begins speaking when her eyes squint at the region of his mouth. “...growing a moustache?” Bold fingers reach up, ghosting over his upper lip where a few days’ stubble seems to grow longer than the rest on his jaw. August cocks his eyebrow as the tips of her fingers almost touch his mouth. She notices his disapproval and pulls her hand away apologetically.

“For the mission, I thought it might make me look older.” 

An amused smile cracks on her face, her cheeks rounding up to perfect blushing circles. “The real Mrs. Walker would be mortified.”  

August scoffs, rolling his eyes at the notion before turning away to watch the cars that pass by. His hand rests on his chest, straightening the vest underneath his suit and stretches the muscles of his back. A timid-blowing zephyr caresses his face; his Adam apple rises and drops dryly in his throat.

“Is there a…”

“Oh c’mon, Hartmann! You know the answer to the question, don’t act stupid and play small talk with me, it’s not your style.” 

Lacey’s lips press shut together, her green eyes dropping to the floor. She knows the only Mrs. Walker is his mother, and Madeleine has been gone for a couple of years now. Everything is in his file, allowing her to learn about the “mundane life” August Walker leads, or at least the ones he allows her to see through her CIA spectacles. 

It was an obligation to do the same with her. His old man once told him to learn who he’s dealing with before opening his “goddamn mouth.” That’s all there is to it, and his curiosity if he has to admit it.

Lacey Hartmann lives alone with her cat, Sir Podrick, on Hampshire St 457 on flat number 45. A magazine two-room apartment, picture-perfect, tidy to the point of OCD. She has an older sister but they rarely see each other. On her free weekends, she loves to watch romantic comedies while drinking hot chocolate with tiny marshmallows. 

He often wonders if her sweet tooth is compensating for something missing in her life. Yet there is never a man in her apartment.

Sometimes she dances in front of the window, especially after a hard day at the office. He can’t tell which music is playing in her headphones, but the way she moves her body makes him believe it’s something upbeat and cheerful. 

The images of her bedroom window vanish as a slightly irritating thought peaks in his mind at her comment. Mrs. Walker. A hiss of violent air shoots from his nostrils. 

Relationships were not something he cared to pursue. Life had other offerings. 

Besides, the women he liked were too tender and he was too rough. So, his conquests never lasted more than a night. 

Agitated, he pulls his sleeve to look at his Rolex, muttering something obscene under his breath which makes Lacey shift uncomfortably on her feet. The driver should have arrived by now. Every car that parks at the pebbled road bears disappointment, dropping off more honeymooners and rich, older married couples. 

A soft smile breaks on Lacey’s painted lips while she stares at August who’s facing the driveway with his fists clenched at the sides of his body.

“Well, since we’re stuck here waiting for a ride, you better entertain me.” Lacey speaks with grace, not a hint of nervousness or fright in her voice. She learnt how to deal with August and his tantrums by now. 

August remains silent, his sight never breaking from the driveway and the alley of palm trees that pave the path. 

“Or I guess we can stare at the big full moon,” she says to herself, lifting her eyes to the clear sky.

August stares back at the golden-haired woman, her long lashes fluttering gently as she counts the stars in her mind. A naive glint sparks her eyes as she’s captivated by her own fascination. The pale blue of the moon reflects on her milky skin, making her look like a siren in her beautiful dress.

“Yeah, it’s lovely,” he says in his deep voice. 

*~*

And even if it existed, hell wouldn’t have you.

*~*

The expo is held at a royal mansion of some sort. A large Sicilian palace that is owned by an ageing millionaire. Golden floral embellishments spread across the azure velvet walls, shimmering at the lights of the crystal chandeliers which dangle in the halls.   

Various ancient trinkets are placed in glass cubes. Crudely-made bows and arrows that were carved from cheap wood by a half-brain neanderthal are offered for the price of 200,000,000 Euros.    

Ridiculous.

Keen on finding their target, both August and Lacey decide to split up upon their arrival, planning their strategy ahead by protocol. August is the striking image of professionalism tonight, stretching his gaze around the large hallway. He has been this way for the last several missions, working by the book, making sure to perform as clean as possible, whatever that means in CIA terms. 

He even managed to win a word of praise from Sloane, who still can’t stand the very sight of his face. But at least she ceased from eating his head at the conclusion of every mission. 

And Lacey seems to appreciate it, too. 

The brooding man spends the night pretending to be enthralled by the exhibition and its boring guests who continually attempt to strike pointless conversations with him. As part of his task, he only speaks with those who seem to be an asset and brushes others away by answering in fluent Italian, pretending to not understand a word in English while smiling at them politely. 

Blending in, the young agent stands by one of the bars, leaning onto the marble counter and enjoying some type of strawberries-in-cream dessert which was offered to him by a tall,  abnormally attractive waitress who’s been walking around with a silver tray. 

Lacey would love this fruit-pudding thingy, he muses as his fingers brush through the mid-length stubble above his lip. His eyes carefully scan the room for any group of men in their late 30s for a clue or a sign. 

The sound of a woman’s laughter chips away his attention like a siren’s call.

So that’s how she sounds like when she laughs. 

Grabbing a glass of champagne, he steps forward on the black carpeted floor, following the cheerful voice as it rolls delightfully in his ears. Storm clouds gather in his eyes. The siren is behaving unprofessionally to the point of being offensive. A tall glass of half-empty Lambrusco hangs between her slender fingers while her head falls back; her hand rests on her chest, trying to contain her laughter. 

She is the centre of attention to a group of famished men. 

August frowns with disapproval. She’s supposed to act drunk, not get buzzed. Standing at the large pathway, he watches how she smiles widely, mouth gaping, small dimples peeking at the corner of her lips. The honey of her hair makes her stand out in a room of dark beauties, the shade of her dress an anchor for any travelling eyes.

He takes an irritated sip from his champagne, swallowing the sparkly liquid, trying to ignore the bells of laughter which begin to sound like an insult, meant to provoke him. His piercing eyes search for the target in the room, focusing on the task on hand and being the professional his father urged him to be. 

Yet as if magnetized, his glare returns to her.  

For a moment there he nearly forgets that she is a CIA agent. The men around her flirt nearly barbarically, their mouths salivating with predatory hunger. Is she too pure to understand their intentions? The vultures are waiting to tear her limb by limb. Possibly hoping she will be drunk enough to be dragged by one of them.

The storm inside him rages. Thoughts of her being tainted by one of these hideous men enter his mind and poison bubbles in his throat, drowning him in anger.

He puts his champagne flute on the tray of one of the hostesses who passes by. He fixes his tie over his neck and swallows hard. His strides are confident and charismatic as he marches into their circle abruptly, reaching an arm over to Lacey. 

“Sweetheart, here you are. Come see this piece, you’re going to love it.” hee speaks with contained anger, his baritone loud and clear, roaring through his puffed chest and squared shoulders.

Lacey turns to smile at him as he latches his fingers around her forearm, rescuing her by pulling her away from the predators with as much elegance he can muster at his current aggravated mood.

“Are you fucking drunk, Hartmann? What’s wrong with you?! We have a dangerous man to catch.” He whispers angry and low in her ear, carrying her toward an open terrace where they can discuss and re-strategize the mission.

The cool breeze caresses their faces, tenderly running through their hair as they approach the open air. The young woman continues to giggle as August’s fingers tickle beneath her armpit while he takes her to stand next to the large renaissance modules that hide them from the guests of the event. He lets go of her forearm, looking down at her with a scowl.

“Relax, I was trying to make it look convincing with these decadent, empty idiots.” she attempts to pacify him, looking up into his eyes, her head reaching just beneath his square chin. 

“Isn’t it ridiculous?”

“What is?”

“The way they sell these artefacts on such a high price when it was created by a primitive creature who ate his own fleas,” she mocks with a mischievous smile. “This is the end of human culture, this capitalistic point of view.”

A cold shiver crawls at August’s spine as he hears her speaking of his ideals. He had never seen her this way before. 

So opinionated, so bold. 

Has she been reading my mind?

They have never been this physically close, he can smell the lupines on her skin and the Lambrusco on her breath. Lacey’s amused grin begins to relax somewhat, her eyes now staring at something with stark fascination.

“You have a brown spot in one of your eyes.”

August brow furrows even deeper, dark lines forming between his thick eyebrows as the woman ogles him in a bizarre way. His blood thickens as the pleasant wind brushes at his face.

“Sectoral heterochromia, I was born with it.”

“It’s beautiful,” she answers with an enchanted glare, batting her lashes and moving further to study the shape of his flaw. Her feet arch to the tip of her toes, reaching higher to his face. August remains still, watching as if within a haze when her lips crash onto his. 

Chills spiral through his nerves, his eyes wide open as her soft lips press into his in a long, chaste kiss. There is a small hum in her voice, painted lashes look like black curved trails as her eyes shut with an enchantment. For a second he can feel her body press into his, her breasts grinding at his broad chest. She slowly detaches from him, opening her eyes and falling flat on her feet.

Alarm spills onto her face, her hand covering her mouth with guilt as panic surges. August stares back without a sign of emotion on his arctic face.

“I’m so sorry!” She calls out in utter embarrassment, moving away from him by a step.

His breath grows rigid, his mind a war. In an instant, he pulls her wrist away from her face and claims her into his grasp, kissing her earnestly, even violently. Lacey’s moans melt into his mouth, her body crashing into his, writhing as her lips gape, accepting his insidious tongue. 

She tastes like sugar.

August slams her against the wall, growling as her hands roam down his body and messing his outfit. A fervent stir tingles at his groin and the way she squeezes the muscles of his behind and tries to shove her hands under his trousers does nothing to relax his racing heart. Depraved, his hand pushes between her legs, trying to cup her heat through the tight dress, yet it cages her legs too tightly. 

“I want you out of this fucking dress.” August growls, breaking the passionate kiss to breath hot and heavy in her ear. 

“Then take me back to the hotel.” she retorts breathlessly, grinding her pelvis into the growing hardness in his groin.

“We can’t, the mission.”

Lacey emits a frustrated huff, sounding as if she’s meaning to beg as her body constantly pushes into his in a snakelike dance. “Forget about him, he’s not here, we’ll do it the Walker way.”

There is nothing in this world strong enough to convince him otherwise as those big doe eyes peer at him with admiration and a sense of need he never received from any woman before. It wasn’t like the women who begged him to fuck them as he tormented and delayed their release.

For the first time in his life, he felt purely wanted.

~*~

The ride back to the hotel is the most dreadful experience he had to endure in his life. Both Lacey and he sit at each side of the car, avoiding eye contact whilst their organs throb with aching need. She keeps her fingers laced together while the driver listens to some old Italian love song and sings along the tunes on the radio. August attempts to avoid drowning into his thoughts but the idea of having her tonight makes the blood pool hot in his loins.

They hardly make it into her room. Exploiting every moment left in solitude to make out like horny teenagers. Whenever a hotel staff member or a guest passes by, they break away from one another in the most obvious manner.

As they finally arrive at the suite, August kicks the door shut with his foot and preys at her, his talons reaching for her face, his thumb wiping off whatever remains of her lipstick before kissing her again. 

“I don’t like this, it isn’t you.” he states in between invigorated kisses while Lacey battles to take off his clothes, pushing the blazer off his shoulders and then working the buttons of his vest and shirt with lust guiding her fingers. She ignores his remark, answering with another breathless kiss instead while moving to fumble with his belt.

Their feet kick at one another as August leads them toward the king-size bed, fondling the curves of her body through the terrible prison that is her dress. His long legs nearly lose their balance as she successfully unzips his trousers and finds him fully erect and pulsating in her small hand. 

Logic turns to steam at the manipulation of her hands. His gasps resonate through the length of his throat, giving in to the whispers of his heart. How long yearned for her, wanting to keep her in the birdcage of his vision. 

Lacey, so bold yet so sweet.   

With the swiftness of his hands, he turns her around, tugging at the zipper of her dress while dotting her collarbone with possessive nibbles. Her naked figure unveils to him as a flower opens to the sunlight of spring.

Left in nothing but her baby-blue lace underwear, she steps out of her dress and moves to face the large naked man, pacing back as he sneaks toward her like a direwolf. The look on her face is admirable. Drenched of fear and desire at once, feeding his natural dominance.

“August…” she whispers his name. Her lips quiver at the sight of his broad form, appreciating every sinew, every muscle. August reaches to hold his cock as the blood stirs into it with rage, wanting to be inside this angel, to taint her and mark every piece of skin. 

“I don’t have a condom.” he warns, licking his lips as she slides her underwear down her long, creamy legs. Her mound is completely waxed, just the way he wants it. Pure.  

“I’m clean and protected.”

Inviting him into her mysteries, Lacey offers him a devoted stare and reaches her delicate hand toward him. No clarity is left in his mind; desire clouds every rational thought, every self-preservation instinct. He ignores her hand and lunges at her like a predator.

They fall into a sea of silken sheets together, August covering her body with his, giving no care of how his weight crushes her. His hands hold her wrists pinned to the mattress as he pushes her smooth thighs apart with his knees.

Lacey’s moans are mesmerizing as he sinks himself into her wonders. Singing her pleasure at him like a true siren. An overwhelmed groan breaks from his own lips as the wetness of her flesh encloses around his cock, sucking him from within with an embrace of lust. Soft and delicate, she writhes against his crude, rugged body and he thrusts inside her with teetering grunts, taking her with sheer, primal dominance. 

She feels different, like no other woman he ever had before. Completely submissive to his darkest desires. Her body opens to him, like a precious, heavenly nymph and he takes what he wants. Deeper and deeper, drowning into her womb, never wanting to stop, invigorated by the way her hands clutch at his body with the same desperation that is in his chest.

For three days, they never leave the suite. Lost in a carnal euphoria that makes both of them forget the existence of the outer world.

~*~

Oh, hell indeed exists, it’s on the earth you walked your entire life.

~*~

The delicious aroma of crispy, caramelized bacon and fluffy pancakes tickles his senses to wake up. Salty and sweet, the scent draws him to sit upon the bed that’s slightly too small for his wide frame. A drowsy smirk crawls onto his face. This scent is his second favourite thing to wake up to.  

Locating his cobalt trunks on the floor, he hauls himself out of her bed, pulls them on and tries to tame the messy bundle of curls on his head while he walks to find her in the kitchen. The bacon sizzles on the pan as Lacey stands next to the stove in his buttoned-up shirt. She is flipping an impossible quantity of pancakes and frying strips of bacon in another pan. 

Her rounded ass peeks at him with every shift her body makes.

August sneaks behind her with the skill of a CIA agent, looming closer and wrapping his arms around her torso, his chin resting on the top of her head, while his hungry eyes feast on the pancakes and amber bacon.

Lacey flinches in his grip, he can feel her heart jump for a moment before she relaxes into his embrace, lips melting into a wide smirk as August rocks her from side to side.

“Morning,” she hums delightfully. “Go sit, there is freshly brewed coffee waiting for you.”

August drops a kiss on the top of her head, a low growl of serenity climbing up his throat. “You’re a dream, princess.”

And you’re all mine. 

With a wisp of unwillingness, he detaches from her and walks to the table, where Lacey’s favourite mug of coffee awaits him with steam rising from within. His eyes are a calm sea sparkling at the sunrise as he looks at her with admiration. 

Everything about her tips him across the edges of sanity; the way she smiles at his horrible dark jokes, the way she listens to everything he says with devotion and appeal, the way she speaks about her ideals and sees him like no person ever did before.

Lacey turns her head and sneaks a small glance at him, giving a smile and a wink before returning to the stove.

It took 5 months to admit to himself that he likes this, that he enjoyed being here, with her and her stupid cat, or in every distant location in the world. It didn’t matter if they were in Afghanistan or Paris, as long as he got to listen to her breathing in her slumber. That night in Sicily wasn’t just mindless sex. It was a union of two souls. They spent the night talking and while he was reluctant to open up-as he still is-he was stunned to find out just how much this woman shared similar points of views.

Though she never says it specifically, Lacey wants to watch the world burn. 

He hasn't even told her about his idea, not yet. It’s probably too soon anyway as he only started formulating his intention a couple of months ago. A part of him still fears how she may react if she finds out he’s been selling CIA secrets and dealing weapons right beneath Sloane’s nose. 

“I hope you’re hungry,”

Lacey calls out as she places two large plates of pancakes and bacon on the table and walks quickly to get the maple syrup from the counter. Sir Podrick jumps on the table as she puts the syrup next to the plates. Aggravated, August shoos the cat away and reaches to grab the woman's forearm, forcing her into his lap possessively.

“You know I am, princess.” he murmurs as he kisses her shoulder and then her lips, before grabbing a piece of pancake and some bacon with his fork and nibbling it deliciously. Lacey remains on his lap, grabbing a stripe of bacon from his plate and chewing on it with a pleasant moan before directing her gaze to August.

“How long do you think we can keep this a secret?” she asks, slight concern appearing on her face. August swallows the remaining pancake in his mouth and sips some coffee to clear his throat. His fingers thread through the gold of her hair, combing the large waves repeatedly.

“I don’t want them to take you away from me.”

His voice is nearly that of a child.

The agency’s protocol won’t allow partners to be in a relationship due to an incredible conflict of interest. “Sloane would lose her shit if she’d find out this entire time we’ve been doing this.” He chuckles dryly and shoves another piece of pancake into his mouth while still looking at Lacey. The first morning rays shine through the wide-open window, basking her face with a shimmering summer glow. 

“We can run away,” she teases. “Buy a yacht, tell Erica to go fuck herself and sail the sea.”

August smirks, his hand descending to the small of her back as images of embarking to the great unknown with her fill his chest with euphoric bliss. 

A daydream, perhaps in the future, after mankind is free.  

“I think she’s beginning to warm up to me though.” 

“Well, she did start calling you The Hammer after the last mission.” Lacey answers and grabs the mug from August’s side, stealing a mischievous sip. “If only they knew it has a different meaning to some of us.”

August crooks his eyebrow up at Lacey and wipes his moustache clean. His hands reach to tickle the sides of her belly, causing her to let go of the mug before he snatches it back. Her giggles make his heart feel at ease, something he’ll never dare to tell or show her. 

Asserting his dominance by only giving as much. 

“Why did you join the agency in the first place? You never told me.” she wraps her arms around his shoulders, the green of her eyes appearing yellow at the ray of sunlight that beams on her face.

His gaze falls upon the table, staring at the remnants of the pancakes while licking his teeth. Thoughts of his past begin to echo in the chasm of his mind. 

The day his mom fell to her knees and let out a banshee-like howl of agony at the empty ceiling as two agents came into their house.

He was 13, and from that moment on, he was all alone in a cold, ravenous world. 

“I wanted to die for the government, just like my father.” he spits out, thinking of how his life turned over one autumn morning. A tall, lanky boy who couldn’t even comfort his mother as she tore off tufts of her hair. 

August didn’t even cry, not since then.  

The curious look on Lacey’s face fades into sadness, compassion welling on her now golden-green irises. “You never told me how he died.” 

A muscle twitches in his cheek, his eyebrows knitting together as anger begins to slightly boil his blood. “Like all heroes, forgotten. I don’t know how, it was during a mission in Moscow. Nothing in his files but a mention on an accident, no details other than that.” 

“Is that why you have such small faith in the government?” Lacey asks innocently, referring to their pillow-talk. The ones they have while she presses her soft cheek to his chest and draws invisible circles onto his chest.  

The lump in his throat dries as he remembers the weeks that followed after his father was gone. They were thrown to the dogs to be gnawed at. No compensation, no financial support, and no one to comfort young August. 

His mother couldn’t even look at him anymore. Those blue soulful eyes, the cleft of his chin, and even the shape of his nose were inherited from his father. 

The most pain August has ever endured was when someone he loved was unable to look at him anymore.  

Madeleine was a loyal housewife from the midwest who never took a real job. Arthur provided for them. While he wasn’t the warmest father, he kept his family close, taking them with him on his trips, unless they were too dangerous. 

By the time August was seven, he’s already been to all continents. 

After his father’s death, both the money and his mother withered away. Having no experience in anything but waiting tables, Madeleine couldn't support her own child and perhaps she didn’t want to. The boy was a painful memory of what she lost. 

The last he remembers of her, she dragged him with her to church and went on her knees as August sat on the bench. She prayed and cried out to God until her knees bled and her eyes rimmed red from the tears she wept.

But God never answered.

That week, social services arrived at their door. He never saw her since that day and needless to say, no one wanted a hostile 13-year-old boy. 

August turns his face to stare at Lacey, examining her round, freckled face and her plump, pink lips. They make her look like a renaissance painting of an angel. At times, he’s afraid that his rage will tarnish her, swallow the light of her spirit. Yet he can never hold back, fucking her so roughly, she hurts for days. His instincts drive him to spill all his fury into her cavities. To offer all the spite and hurt that poisoned his soul, as if it will cleanse him. 

And for a few seconds, he is sanctified. Coming inside her makes him feel complete in every sense of the word.   

The soft purring of Lacey’s cat grounds him to reality. The chubby ginger cat rubs around his leg affectionately, his yellow diamond eyes staring at August. 

“Let’s not talk about it, anymore,” he replies in a somewhat final tone.

Lacey nods at him, giving him a look full of understanding. Her fingers reach behind his ear, stroking the soft chocolate curls and tucking them back. “Okay, Aug. But we really need to talk about that!” 

Her fingers move to point at his thick moustache, her eyes narrowing with disdain. 

August strokes his moustache with his thumb and index finger and lets them slide down the stubble of his square chin. “You don’t like it?”

Lacey shakes her head with protest, trying her best to appear irritated. “No.”  

Princess is so cute when she pretends to be angry.

August offers her a smug smirk in return, grabbing the last remaining piece of bacon from his plate and sliding it whole into his mouth. “Too bad, it stays.” he answers with his mouth full, grease smearing on the corners of his lips. “It makes me look dangerous and you love it.”

“No, you look like pornstar.”

“I’d fuck you like one.” he answers with a dark glint in his eyes. In a sudden movement, he places both hands on Lacey’s waist and stands up with her in his grip. The woman squeals with surprise as he flings her over his shoulder with little to no effort and stings her ass with a sharp slap.

“Do you want it here, sweetheart, or in the bedroom?” he asks and bites the fat of her behind. Lacey cries out in pain, her legs kicking the air.

He loves to hear her laugh, just as much as he loves to hear her scream.

*~*

If hell is on earth, then what does it make you?

*~*

Like a creature dwelling in the darkness, he sits in the bleak hours of the night, fingers stroking the keys as if he’s a composer, conducting his symphony of destruction. The flesh of his lips chafe at the lack of sleep and insufficient fluids, yet he gives no care. 

This will be his legacy, his gift to the world, his gift to her.

The pale teal light of the screen flickers lightly on his weary corneas. It’s nothing but pixels, black on white, five blocks of paragraphs for now, but the raw power in words proceeds beyond any other weapon known to mankind. So pure, so cataclysmic. 

Just like an atomic reaction.

She will see through his eyes soon. The potential, the greater good. All her words of breaking the system, about dreaming of a better world. A sweet, naive girl with a mind fed with agenda. It was as if they were threaded into one another’s life, destined to be. 

The paving of a new world has already begun. They call themselves the apostles, a group of no more than 12 people, men and women of science and power. Their identities are unknown among one another. It matters very little, the seeds have been sown into the earth. Small acts of terror, biological and chemical incidents around selected locations around the globe, just enough to test the waters. 

Greatness from small beginnings.

It will take time, yet he is patient, and his little angel of destruction will be by his side once the time is right. All mankind will be reunited in peace after the earth will shudder beneath their feet.

~*~

Does it make you a monster?

~*~

Something sharp prods his mind to wake up. A nightmare, whispering toxic words in the darkness. He hears a vague ruffle in the webbed darkness of the night and he blindly reaches his palm to stroke her and finds himself abandoned. There is a knot in his gut and a storm brewing in his mind. Carefully and silently, he reaches for the loaded gun in his nightstand and slips out of bed. 

Pale blue and humming, a soft light invites him to follow to the office next to his bedroom. His heart drums heavily in his chest, his face falling as his vision becomes clear. Bright pink winks through the molten mixture of shadow and light. She hovers over his open computer, spreading files and paper plans over the surface of his desk, all the while holding her digital camera, violating his secrets.

Whatever is in his chest shrieks and bleeds with misery.

“Would be more efficient if you’d switch the light on.”

The woman jumps as she hears his voice and a heavy flood of bright light showers her crimes as August flicks the switch on. She straightens up, as stiff as a frozen tree. Unable to face him right away, her face remains hidden from him. August can see the spasm of her legs beneath her nightdress.

“What are you doing?” August asks, his voice low and menacing, eyes travelling from the Nikon camera that hangs from her hand to his secret scribbles as they lay on his desk, right next to his open manifest. 

“Look at me.” he demands, stern and composed as he can. 

Lacey turns slowly to peer at him, her lips aquiver, eyes shining with guilt. The only sound from her is the shudder of her breath that rushes through her heaving chest. 

The hurt must have blinded his thoughts. He doesn’t remember aiming his gun at her head, it’s only when he sees the woman’s surrendering gesture does he register his actions.

Taking a deep breath, he lowers his gun and places it carefully on the floor. His hands splay in the air, disarmed, offering a truce as he stretches to stand straight. 

“Was I…” he swallows the dryness in his throat and licks his lips. 

It would take a real fool to be so blind to see what was in front of him the whole time. 

“I was your mission?”

Lacey remains quiet, her eyes refusing to meet his. Tears glide down the apples of her rosy cheeks. 

“Tell me the truth Lacey, please. I just want to understand.” The threat in his voice turns soft, becoming nearly a plea as he takes one step forward, watching the woman flinch and step back, her behind colliding with the desk.

The woman weeping in front of him is a trained CIA agent, yet the despair in her eyes shows no signs of panning struggle. The only way out of this room is through him, a man who is nearly twice her size and knows her every move.

“Erica suspected you’re the one who is leaking secrets, so she sent me…”

That’s why she inquired so much, wanted to hear his thoughts, to sleep at his home despite his reluctance. He agreed for the first time tonight, unaware of her insidious intentions. 

Did you really think you deserve this?

August scoffs, his heart clenching painfully in his battered lungs. 

He was wrong. There is something more painful than having someone you love never look back at you. 

“Did she tell you to sleep with me?”

Lacey’s gaze drops to the floor in silence; her answer is nothing but a pathetic sniffle as she pinches her nose.

Bile rises in his throat as he sees shame on her face, so obvious, so obscene. Her purity was false. 

There was nothing sweet or innocent about her, she was nothing but a whore.

“Answer me!!!” he rumbles, more beast than man. 

Lacey jumps and sobs with panic, nodding her head at him with her confession.  “Ye..Yes… any means possible.”

Running his palm through his face and groaning with frustration, the young CIA agent exhales hoarsely. He takes another small step towards her, gradually closing the distance between them, watching his shadow loom on her porcelain skin.

Lacey’s eyes widen with panic. Her ankles kick back the wooden legs of the desk, her hands scattering August’s belongings. White sheets of paper fly down to the floor, ink smudged by tears.

“Stay away,” she warns.

“Does she know? Did you tell her or anyone else at the agency?” he ignores her pathetic threats, taking another step closer. Her floral scent fills his nostrils, nearly triggering his instinct to claim her lips. His gaze softens with an ocean of mercy as she shakes in front of him so violently, breaking into tears of grief. 

Delicate fingers cup her jaw, sliding across the slick moistness of her tears as he tilts her chin up. “Please, tell me the truth.” 

Lacey lifts her gaze to meet his, her eyes puffy and red, her plump lips swollen. She wipes her nose with the back of her palm. “I had nothing to report, until now.”

His grasp tightens around her chin, forcing her head back to look at the text flickering on the monitor. “All this talk about a better world, I thought this is what you wanted.”

She snaps her head back to glare at him, eyes narrowing with disgust and anxiety. “You thought I’d like this?! This is sick!”

August’s nostrils flare yet he gives a gentle nod of understanding and hushes her sudden surge of stress. His hand caresses her round, damp face. The thick pads of his thumbs wipe the salty tears away from her skin and his body presses into hers. 

Even a tremoring mess, she is still so soft and warm. 

“Did you ever love me?” 

His lips are merely an inch from her temples as he whispers. His large hand slides down her cheek, stroking down her jaw and descending further below her chin.  

Unable to muster another lie, she remains silent, aware of the fact that the sand in the hourglass has all but diminished, along with her chances of survival.

Words are unnecessary. The truth speaks loudly in her eyes, the poisonous infidelity was always there all along. Struck by her angelic beauty he was too blind to see, leeching onto false heaven, a childish fantasy of love that never existed.

Small spots of blood begin to form in her wide-open eyes as his long fingers lock around her thin neck, squeezing with intensifying force. Tighter, harder. His name remains caged in her throat as she fights for the air she thinks she deserves. 

“No, you didn’t.” August whispers, his vision beginning to blur. “You never did.”

Strangled yips of pain wheeze through her mouth. Struggling frantically while August hardly even bats an eyelid, staring at her with no emotion on his face. Desperate arms reach out to both heaven and hell, her body squirms and her eyes plead for August to let go. 

Begging for her life.

Something breaks inside her throat. Her last breath follows, a short gasp, frozen in her body for eternity as both her heart and her eyes become still. 

August glances at her pale skin, her gaping lips stained violet, her bloodied eyes glassy, returning his broken reflection.

Sorrowful tears roll down the lines of his face as his heart pumps with pain black as tar. A loud gasp of agony rips from him, shuddering across his entire existence as the very base of his soul chars in his chest. Broken, he falls to his knees with Lacey cradled in his arms, his hand stroking her dull hair and her blue cheeks while husky cries of anguish come through his throat.

All emotions end. An empty abyss claims the spot where his soul once laid. The only thing left to him now is pure, undistilled hatred.

~*~

I am the one who reigns in hell.

~*~

Black cold liquid seeps into weary lungs. Skeletal hands caress his face unkindly, the thin bones, so hard and frozen as they travel down his grey cheeks. No grace is given to him, no redemption. This was nothing but a dream of a life. 

As tar oozes from his throat, her voice continues to call for him. 

His last memories are of Erica, sitting on her throne of lies, swallowing his accusations while peering at him through her dark eyes. Face filled with guilt, oh, she didn't have a clue. Everyone believed Lacey Hartmann was the double agent this entire time. Angelic eyes hiding dark secrets. He planted the evidence in her house, in her computer, sparing his manifest of course. Just enough to tarnish her name forever. 

A painful wheeze splits his throat. Iron tinged his tongue. 

The promotion was won right after the body was cremated. A fine medal given for having his life put at risk.  

Glory and fame won over the woman you loved.

I never loved her. She was a lying whore, she betrayed me.

But you did love me, August. 

Blood spills through his mouth as he coughs. His blue eyes shoot open, peering at a great hole in the ceiling and the dust that floats calmly in the chill air of night. The pain sears his shoulder, throbbing furiously to remind him there is still blood running through his veins. He grunts as he clutches at the gaping wound, trying to hold onto the blood that still remains in his wretched heart. 

Run and hide, little Ingvild

I am no one but Lucifer himself. 

I will have my vengeance.  

__________________________________________________

Disclaimer: I don’t own Mission Impossible franchise or August Walker

[oplishin]

Bound,,,, feeelins

Just a list of thoughts I have about each of the bound, mostly based on the Bachelor and Haruspex runs. It'll probably change with Clara's but oh well. There's a read more because it's long. Listed in the order they appear on the wiki:

Andrey:

At first I was like "this guy's so fun I love him" and I still kinda feel like that but then he had his whole "soon the brothers stamatins will no longer be" something something one unit idk, and then I was like "oh he's crazy"

Eva Yan:

ahdfkjadhfkjadf crying noises

Georgiy Kain:

Crazy weird old man, sus as hell

Mark Immortell:

I love the theory that Mark is only one of Daniil's bound because Daniil has no friends and Mark felt like he should fill in (I think this is in the latest Head North video essay, but I'm not sure). Anyway I kind of already dislike him based on what I've heard about patho 2, let artemy hug you asshole

Maria Kaina:

what is with that flower nipple dress

oh she's ALSO crazy

why are you so into Daniil, he's so bad at flirting

Peter:

I like fanon Peter more than canon Peter, but I can't really explain why. I think it's the crazy. The day 10 talk with him at the staircase is really sad tho.

Victor Kain

"Ah yes, he's the one that's sane. Wait what do you mean you're possessed by the spirit of Nina Kaina" at least I think he is the dialogue is hard to parse. again the head north video explains a lot of the nonsense that's happening with the utopians so. I kinda like Victor, though the way he describes Nina on Day 12 is really weird.

Vlad the Younger

fuck vlad Jr, and fuck his stupid claustrophobic well tunnels that I got lost in for 4 hours in game.

Capella

Marrying Khan because of duty is really sad to me. I just want the kids to be kids before they have to engage with all the politics

Grace

errrr idk. She's fine I guess. I didn't really get much from her in CHD. She has a shmowder for Daniil on one of the days, so that's nice

Khan

I like his conflict with the rest of the Kains. I like his dynamic with Capella and Notkin, the other child leaders. I especially like his dynamic with Notkin because I'm a sucker for "rivals who are the only ones who can really understand each other"

Murky

I like what I've heard about her in Patho 2, but in Classic HD my biggest impression of her is "train car girl who made me get her terrible awful creepy doll from the steppe"

Notkin

I like his CHD dialogue, and I'm also a sucker for "fiercely loyal leader types" so.

Sticky

Like what I've heard from Patho 2, don't have that much of an impression of him from CHD. That's basically my impression of all the termites actually. I didn't do the isidor burakh house quest on day one, because it's basically just "4 rats eat your ankles, good luck"

Taya Tycheek

She's so fun, I like her

Alexander Saburov

Gross weird corrupt government man who disowns his adoptive daughter after 5 days. No likey.

Anna Angel

Child trafficker adjfkadjfl what. I do like her dialogue and her outfit but that's all she has going for her

Aspity

I... don't have that many thoughts about her? I thought of her dialogue with Daniil as them just being complete asses to each other but if you look at it as banter it's a lot more entertaining.

Bad Grief

monies. I like him, also like the apple basket stuff from Patho 2

Katerina Saburova

... basically the same as Alexander except that she also looks like Snape. Sorry to reference JKR but that's literally all I have on her.

Lara Ravel

I love this interaction Daniil has with her:

she's doin her best man. (also isn't her dad a captain or something in Patho 2? girl how do you not know this)

Oyun

I- dude- jdahkjahdfk. I don't like him. He's just... bad and that bossfight is an actual nightmare. I like that he gets more depth in Patho 2 but gah he sucks in CHD

Rubin

Big tall goth man. good. also i love that he threatens to kill you so much and then you talk to him and it's like "all cool dude"

Yulia

I like her hair, and I wish I paid more attention to the dynamic she had with lara and eva cuz I literally can't remember anything she said about them.

[codylabs]

My Top 10 Ships

I’m not a very romantic sort of guy, I’m not real forgiving to departures from canon, I get easily annoyed at inconsistencies, and I don’t watch much television and movies, so in order for me to ship something, it has to be a GOOD ship. I default toward rejecting ships, so to impress ME, it must be built on logic, and evidence, it’s gotta be something I can suspend my disbelief far enough to accept. And it’s gotta have story behind it, something deep, some hefty emotional weight; if it doesn’t tickle this man’s cold reptilian heart with strong beats and excellent writing, it goes straight to the trash. I absoLUTELY will not stand for any of these weird little cute, pretty, pandering, trashy crack ships that everybody seems to be clumsily throwing characters into. Most ships are trash ships. They are not good ships.

You think your ship is good? You like your ship?

You ship it?

No you don’t.

Get out of here.

You will listen to me. I will tell you. Look at me. I’m the Captain now.

Here are the 10 good ships.

10. The Rocinante, The Expanse

A resoundingly excellent ship. Unlike most ships you see out there, this thing was actually designed with realistic space combat in mind. It’s got 6 computer-controlled gatling turrets covering every angle, it accelerates in whatever direction it’s pointing, its bridge is right in the center to put as much armor as possible between enemies and crew, overall a much better-designed vehicle than most everything you see about.

That being said, I didn’t have much connection to this ship. Its crew weren’t really interesting, the aesthetic was kinda bleak, and I basically stopped watching after the phazon showed up. And the Rocinante itself has pretty poor redundancy. Enemy bullets can literally just pass through it (as is realistic for a ship this size) so how about multiple main engines huh? Absolutely tragic oversight. And its interior looks too much like an Apple product. How are you supposed to work on it? Where are the wires and pipes??? The handholds?????

9. Ares IV M.A.V., The Martian

Almost more of a symbol than a ship. A symbol of freedom, of escape. A beautiful symbol. This is what Mark Watney spends the whole movie trying to reach, with an entire world backing him up, and an entire world trying to stop him. It’s the goal of the movie, and it just looks so beautiful when he finally reaches it and sees it sitting there in the middle of the desert, ass down, nose up; a tall, proud symbol. This ship has a special significance for me because the author of the original book really did his research on the scientific requirements and details of a Mars Ascent Vehicle, and it was actually inspired by the E.R.V. in another book, ‘A Case For Mars’, which I read when I was younger. “Makes its own methane-oxygen fuel on-site by using nuclear power to break down CO2 in the atmosphere and combining it with stored hydrogen, don’t you know.” I say as I adjust my spectacles and puff my pipe.

The M.A.V. in the movie does have a few issues, such as hallway and rooms running straight up through where the fuel tanks ought to be (instead of a lift/ladder on the exterior) and a rugged, industrial aesthetic that looks too heavy and cumbersome for a ship of its type. (And you’re seriously telling me he couldn’t have used the capsule’s RCS to literally bypass the movie’s entire climax? WHY NOT? The book never mentioned him having to drain the monopropellant!!!) But I’ll let that slide. Great movie.

8. Biggest Boy, The Greatship

(I don’t know the ship name so I had to make up a name. You know what, I think it’s actually just called the Greatship.)

So it’s a starship the size of Jupiter, empty, unmanned, perfectly mysterious, that comes gliding into the galaxy a couple million years into humanity’s future. Where did it come from? Who made it and how? Good questions. It’s powered by matter-antimatter annihilation reactions from within planet-sized internal tanks, and its engines use hydrogen and fusion exhaust as reaction mass, and its hull is made of hyperfiber, a super-strong fictional material with a 4-dimensional lattice structure, able to weather impacts by spreading them out over various dimensions where the impact occurred in a different place.

I hope that after the first few entries, you didn’t get the impression that I am somehow against futuristic, far-out, impossible technologies. Quite the opposite! I love me some hyperdrive and anti-gravity and A.I. and stuff. However! Ships must be well-designed for the technology available, and must take no creative liberties except those explicitly allowed by the difference in the setting. The laws of physics don’t disappear when the magic crystals come out, the magic crystals are merely a different tool to combat them. Engineering will always exist, should start with the tools and work outward, form follows function. Star Wars ships, for instance, are trash because they don’t mount their repulsorlift arrays consistently, they’re not aerodynamic, and their engines aren’t aligned around their center of masses.

So I like the Great Ship. Although the story is pretty far-fetched, and a lot of crazy, out-there scifi events transpire deep in the ship’s depths, the book always strictly kept its own rules in mind, and never broke those rules, no matter how outlandishly crazy things got. Thanks for comprehending something so incomprehensible, Robert Reed. You inspired me miles in my own work.

7. The Ghost, The Sea Wolf

The story may be fiction, but the Ghost was as real as ghosts can be.

Jack London did his research. No, not research, he LIVED this. The Ghost is a seal-hunting schooner much like one that he served aboard during his rollercoaster of a life, and he captured every detail of its operation, of its requirements, of its mechanics, and of the incredible toll it took on the people that lived such a life. The boat is made to feel as oppressive and claustrophobic as a prison, as if it were an extension of the monster that commanded it, directly in contrast to the expansive beauty of the sea around them. My goodness, what a beautiful book. What a moving, interesting, challenging book, with such a story! This book is one of the climaxes of fiction, and one of the inspirations for Shifting Sands, if I remember correctly. I would recommend this book to anybody. Beautiful.

6. Ferbnessa, Phineas and Ferb

Okay, so I hope we can all agree that Vanessa is nothing but bad news. But that being said, Ferb knows exactly the relationship he wants, and by golly, he goes for it. Most male characters would stutter or get nervous or lose confidence around their crush, especially if that crush is about a hundred miles out of their league or if they already had another boyfriend, but Ferb? No. Not my man Ferb. He’s slighly too much of a legend to fall for such childish pitfalls. He doesn’t posture, he doesn’t creep or flirt or try to sabotage the other men in her life, he doesn’t even speak a word, he just maintains his blank expression, cranks his own already-inhuman levels of confidence and competence up through the roof to borderline olympian levels, and continues being himself. These rare moments of Ferbly passion are some of the few open windows we get into the grandiose machinations of his mysterious mind, and he uses it to bring out the best in Vanessa as well. And in the future episode, set years down the line, wouldn’t you know it, they’re a pair.

All joking aside though, this whole ship is basically comedy. It’s a super small part of the show, it’s only in like 5 episodes, it’s a running gag, it’s hilarious. It’s great. And it fits right into the tone and the feel of the show, because P&F’s entire world really is a comedy about going for it and living your dreams. So this is just the best thing ever. It’s been about a decade since then, and I still burst out laughing at how much of a pristine picture of ideal masculinity Ferb is. Become like Ferb, boys, and you will become men.

Legendary.

Eat your heart out, Dipper.

3. Shunk, Voltron

(I don’t know the ship name so I had to make up a name)

Huge props to the voltron team for making a female alien character (even a romantic interest) with NO BOOBS. Do you have ANY idea how sick and tired I am of artists throwing a big ol’ pair of balonkadongs onto lobsters and snakes when almost everything in the real world besides folks and cows have either 0 or 8+ of them? Everything’s gotta be traditionally sexy and recognizably-feminine and GREAT now you just canonized all the porn! Disgusteg

but now look at Shay. She’s a rock person. She’s got silicon-based biology, she probably weighs 500 lbs and bleeds sand. She’s got enormous hands and weird knees and no nose and lumps everywhere, AND YET STILL the show plays all the tropes 100% straight with her being a fair young maiden and a sweet princess. And it works because Hunk is just this great guy who’s exactly as sweet and caring, and he’s not the most attractive of the Paladins either, so he probably lives his life looking past appearances. He doesn’t care that she’s an alien rock, he cares about her as a person, and she obviously worships him right back. Even though Shay is shown in season 1 and then never again until season 7, Hunk still avoids alternative romantic entanglements, citing ‘a rock I know’, and it just adds to his persona as this infinitely loyal teddy bear. I tip my hat to this, the single ship I know that’s 0% sexy and 100% wholesome.

And Hunk is the best Paladin. He’s just the greatest. I revere him. I salute him as he walks past. This man among men. Look at this guy. I don’t even care about any of the other ships in Voltron (I mean, the Castle of Lions is okay, but it’s outriggers are kinda spindly) but Hunk and Shay deserve each other.

4. Wendip, Gravity Falls

So Dipper’s 12/13, and Wendy’s 15. That’s a pretty giant age difference. Maybe you fans have fooled yourselves into thinking it’s not, but it is. She knows it. He knows it. His sister knows it. Your mom knows it. So halfway through the show, when he finally got around to confessing his feelings to her, she told him no. Sure they’re still friends, sure they like each other, and sure they have a lot of chemistry and they still have a movie night every Friday, but at the end of the day, he’s a smelly little midget who has to go back to California at the end of the Summer, and she’s a older girl with approximately zero romantic feelings for him. So the notion that it could work out is pretty obvious to everyone, and especially to him, pretty much hopeless. And he really did handle it all pretty poorly and immaturely too, he objectified her and stalked her and simped up a storm and sabotaged her boyfriend, so perhaps he deserved what he got. Perhaps it’s better this way.

And yet.

And yet Wendy never really got a happy ending in the show. And Dipper never got a conclusive romance either. So after everything, it’s easy to think about it how he thinks about it, by wondering how things could have been, if everything were just so slightly different, if she’d said yes or if they united again. She wishes she could be younger, he wishes he could be older. She’s more dominant, he’s more recessive. She has a lot of serious issues in her life, and could really seriously use a driven, heroic, intelligent friend to help her out, give her purpose, and steer her right. And Lord knows he could use somebody with street smarts and actual muscles to have his back now and again. They complement each other perfectly. They make up for each others’ weaknesses. They’re everything they ever wanted from another, and if you do the math, their children would be actual literal supersoldiers.

Or at least that’s the way a lot of people see it. There’s been immeasurable mountains of fanfiction and fanart from people who are just so sad that in a show full of happy endings and dreams coming true and old regrets being resolved and children growing up, that one ending would never be happy, one dream would never come to pass, one regret would stick with you forever, one child would never grow up. Maybe if you extrapolate out the story they’d end up together? Or maybe they’d find other, better partners? Maybe romance isn’t all that important in the grand scheme of things, and this is the best ending there could have been? Perhaps, perhaps not. But in any case, there’s a lot of very rich storytelling potential for the untold journey before them, and for the paths that could have been.

Stop drawing fetish art of Wendy, you insufferable heathen actual donkeys.

3. Kataang, Avatar: The Last Airbender

Now HERE’S a serious relationship. Not just a romantic ship, (though it is that,) not just some cutesy, funny thing or some ship-war fodder, (though it is cute and funny and did spawn a ship-war,) not just a matter of certainty and destiny, (though it is certain and was destined,) this is a real, TANGIBLE relationship, that these characters built together over a solid year of on-screen adventuring and fighting. They’ve helped each other through trauma, they’ve been there for each other in their darkest moments, they learned martial-arts together, they’ve fought back-to back against grown men, they’ve worked front-to-front sawing through steel girders, they’ve saved each other’s lives, he once ACTUALLY DIED and she brought him BACK. They end up respecting each other, and valuing each other in the intimate way that only true friends do.

And they’re shown working through all their imperfections and mistakes too. Aang sometimes oversteps boundaries and says stupid stuff because he’s a kid, and Katara sometimes scolds him and controls him because she’s motherly and orderly, they get jealous of each other, but none of those things drive them apart, and they deal with them, and they conquer them, and they keep a very legitimate and multi-faceted friendship going, and that’s the key to it all. The fact that this friendship becomes romance is just proof that it was a friendship of quality.

I think people tend to overlook or forget this ship because the last few episodes of the show found them in a pretty dark place, needing to deal with matters of life and death and justice in very different ways, and unlike all their other issues, we don’t really get to see them reconciling these differences before the story ends, which kind of leaves a sour taste between them. And Katara goes on a couple missions with Zuko around the same time, so now half of all people want Zutara, when in actuality, Zutara is a trash ship, which is a true science fact.

2. Serenity, Firefly

Only reason this ship isn’t #1 is because it isn’t constructed using a proper aerospace philosophy; it’s made of bulky machinery and steel beams and chunky plates, it looks more like an ocean vessel from the inside, and is WAY too big for its 6-12 person crew and light cargo capacity. Plus it doesn’t have any room for fuel and its got no wheels on its landing legs and no downward-facing windows and its reactor is just too dang SMOL and its engines are attached too flimsily. This all wouldn’t be too much of an issue if they were going for a far-future aesthetic, but if you’re trying to do something grounded and semi-contemporary, you need to lose some weight girl, I’m sorry.

But by gosh does it make up for it in heart. The entire inside of this ship was mapped out and made on set, with so many homely little decorations and touches to make every room feel like the person who inhabits it, sterile professional blue for the doc’s medbay, warm happy red for Kaylee’s engine room, all-serious-business-but-also-plastic-dinos for Wash’s cockpit... It hit me hard when this baby it crashed in the movie, and it felt almost real when River pretended to mind-meld with it. This ship has more soul in one buffer panel than most shows have in the entire cast, enough to make it seem like its own character, even in a show crowded with charming characters. I love this ship intimately, even if I would have built it differently.

1. Colonial Vessel 46.18′\, Gravity Falls

(I don’t know the ship name so I had to make up a name)

You didn’t think I’d leave out this one, did you? After all the fanfiction I’ve written? This is basically my ship at this point. Anyway, enough about me; the vessel beneath Crash Site Omega really is the quintessential alien ship; its perfectly cliche flying-saucer design taps into all the audience’s pre-existing fanciful notions and imaginings and disbelief-suspension, meanwhile its presentation isn’t cliche or fanciful in the slightest. 

There’s not much to say about it from a technical standpoint, besides personal musings: it would need anti-gravity to stay airborne without thrusters, it would need a FTL drive to cross the distances it did, its drones would need to be made of some kind of semi-liquid to move like they do... But these sort of out-of-the-box, never-before-seen, world-expanding brain-knocks are exactly what makes this ship special. It’s an alien ship, built with technology unknown to people, forged from materials that people don’t possess, and inhabited by beings we will never meet. For all we know, this ship could be perfectly sound from an engineering standpoint, and no engineer in the audience could claim to prove it otherwise, because unlike something like the T.A.R.D.I.S., they never try and fail to explain it away with science buzzwords or canonize its details or show off some fancy glowy reactor. This ancient husk is left as a yawning pit in reason, and that’s beautiful.

Moreover, this ship is an amazingly powerful narrative tool, and a mind-blowing surprise to drop in as a setpiece during the show’s final episodes. This ship embodies everything that made the show’s mysteries special: the evidence presented so early and so consistently, the creativity in creature design, action, and worldbuilding, the yawning depths of unknowable lore, and most of all the burning, unquenched desire to know more... The imprint this ship made in the cliffs over the town has been hanging over the characters’ heads the entire series, and its hull was below their feet from day one, so when they finally revealed it, and explored it, it felt invigorating. Rewarding. This ship, and the glorious feelings and thoughts it represents, have inspired to no end, and haven’t ended yet.

Honorable mentions:

Westley and Buttercup, The Princess Bride

Ooooh man I tell you what, it was really hard trimming this down to 10 for the list, and this one just barely didn’t make the cut, and that mainly because I have a sweet spot for animation and for warrior women, and this sweetness ain’t animated, and this damsel is as distressed as they get. And they don’t have a whole lot of chemistry? I don’t know how to measure that, but I feel like there was a lot of friendship stated that was never shown? Is it sacrilege to say that about True Love? I guess I’ve never exactly had True Love, so what do I know?

The entire plot centers around his devotion to her, and her love for him, and the lengths they go to for one another. He studies fencing and wrestling and wits and tactics for years on a pirate ship as he tried to return to her, and she refused the advances and the offers of an actual prince for as long as she could, even though she thought him dead, and was ready to kill herself when she knew him to be alive and not to be hers. And just such excellent action and characters and humor and story in the entire book surrounding it. Possibly an even better movie, somehow. Happy happy happy happy. They don’t make movies like this no more, why is that? Sad.

Endurance, Interstellar

Actually a pretty realistic design, all considering. They nailed the aesthetic, and the cinematography, and the feel.

It does lose points though, firstly because the shuttlecraft require a booster stage to make it into orbit when leaving Earth, but for the rest of the movie, whenever they’re landing on planets with similar gravity and atmosphere, they can just fly away like it’s no big deal, which is a big inconsistency, both with real life, and more importantly with itself. And how did an under-equipped and struggling space program put this thing in orbit in the first place, anyway? And why don’t their ships land on their asses like proper rockets? And why not tell the crew members the full plan before leaving? See, it’s little things like that, little inconsistencies made for the sake of fitting with story beats and simplifying it for the audience’s sake, that sours this ship for me. I don’t mind creative liberties, but actual plot holes? This thing has a few plot holes, and plot holes are absolutely yucky. So although most of this ship is very yummy, the yucky parts make it all yucky.

Yucky.

Plus its heavy cargo shuttles are about the least-aerodynamic things imaginable, and that’s also yucky, and there’s porcelain tiles in the stasis bay, like what?

Couldashouldawoulda been yummy.

The Hermes, The Martian

This ship. This friggin’ ship.

A beautiful ship. A well-conceived ship. A mathematically sound and engineered ship. It had so many many good ideas behind it. So much math went into calculating its thrust and orbital dynamics for this movie, so much work went into making it fit a contemporary space aesthetic, the panels, the heat sinks, the tanks, so much PRESENTATION I could KISS IT HMWA, but taken as a whole, engineering-wise, the whole ship falls flat on its face, because it just doesn’t fit together. It doesn’t make sense. Look at all those countless modules along its length. What do they do? They don’t do anything! It’s a quarter mile long, and it’s built for only 6 people? It’s meant to carry a lander? Where does the lander dock? Why are the useful airlocks so far off the center of gravity? Why does it have a cockpit? Why is the forward airlock so looooong? Why is the entire ship so loooooong? Why is the ring spinning so slowly? It’s not hard math to figure out how fast it needs to spin! You’re telling me you did ORBITAL DYNAMICS but not the SINGLE physics 101 equation needed to figure out how fast the ring needs to spin??

Btw, let’s talk about that rotating section in the middle! Think about the rotating section! That rotating section means that the front and the back of the ship aren’t actually connected! There’s just a pair of ring-shaped slip-slidey bearings bridging the ship’s middle, slip-slidey bearings that electricity, computer signals, and water and air pipes can’t cross. Why did they design it that way?? In the book the entire ship spun, which makes so much more sense! Why does it have solar panels when it has a reactor canonically capable of 40 times their output? Why are the fuel tanks so small? Why is it always facing prograde even when canonically burning retrograde? Why? WHY? BLRRRRGGGGGRGGGRGGG

In Conclusion, Ships Are Neat

[ohmightydevviepuu]

our little life (rounded with a sleep) / chapter 9

our little life (rounded with a sleep) chapter nine [9/12] AO3

--

Once upon a time, there was a beautiful detective. She had blonde hair, green eyes, no family, and she was good at finding people; in fact, she proclaimed this on her office door. “Swan and Humbert,” it said. “Private investigations, missing persons, and bail bonds.”

Only lately, she's been thinking that maybe it should say "Emma Swan: Loner, Loser, Complicated wreck."

Her partner's been killed on a case after she made a deal with her landlord to find what had been taken from him. But when she tracks a possible perp to a bar on the outskirts of town, Emma will find out exactly how deep the rabbit hole goes.

--

as ever, none of this would exist without @thisonesatellite​.  pretty sure this kicks off another section that i made her read 3 times.  after changing, like, five words.  listen, i needed to know if it was better, ok?

to @profdanglaisstuff​ and @katie-dub​, always.

to the @captainswanbigbang​ for a hell of an event.  i owe you all so much.

--

cw: canonical character death rating: T/M (implied violence, language) word count:  ~4k AO3 chapter one | chapter two | chapter three | chapter four | chapter five | chapter six | chapter seven | chapter eight

--

chapter summary: Shit gets real.  Very real. In her dreams--and in her life.  Emma has to decide:  is she ready to try something new?

--

Emma opened her eyes. She was once again on her back, on the least comfortable mattress she had ever had the misfortune to encounter--which was saying a lot, considering some of the places Emma had slept in her life. There was a single bare bulb illuminating the space and shadows cast along the wall by the bars of the cell door.

She was in one of David Nolan’s holding cells.

“What luck,” drawled a voice--a woman, haughty and self-assured and someone Emma had heard before. “The Savior.”

Emma did not sit up as she registered the words, or the obvious capital letters of the title; she merely waited, turning her head so that the speaker came into view. Her posture was impeccable, and though she did not appear especially tall she established a sense of presence. There was not a hair out of place on her head and her clothing was simple, but obviously expensive. It was easy to see where--who--Regina Mills had learned her habits from.

“Cora Mills,” Emma said, her attention going back to the ceiling and the bulb, making her affect as disinterested as possible. “You look pretty good for a dead woman.”

read the full chapter on AO3

chapter nine

Emma stood in the doorway, watching her son sleep for the first time in her--and his--life. His hair was just a bit too long, she realized suddenly, seeing the way his fringe fell into his eyes. Liam was on the floor, and his eyes opened when she took a step into the room. Emma shrugged--hoping he would understand what even she could not.

Because she needed to leave.

She needed to be somewhere else, out of all of this, out of this bullshit of magical nonsense and curses and--everything.

She was going to take her son and she was going to get the fuck out of Dodge, away from Evil Queens and Dark Ones and roommates that felt like family and a bartender that felt like he could help her be a part of something, if only he wasn’t so monumentally fucked up.

Liam just watched her, watched her as she shook Henry gently awake, and then he nodded. He looked sad, but resigned, and Emma had to wonder: how many friends did Liam Hook truly have? Maybe he was a little lost, too, just like his brother, just like she had been.

Like she still was.

“Come on, kid,” she said, hoping her voice cut through the sleepy haze in Henry’s expression. “We’re getting out of here.”

--

Ruby had caught her in the hallway as Emma left Hook’s office, and the grin on her face was devilish, her eyes glittering in delight. “Angsty midnights with the hot-slash-insane bartender?” she asked. “I love it.” But then she had sniffed, and though Emma knew it wasn’t possible, it was like she smelled the alcohol in the air around her, even though neither Hook nor Emma had had anything to drink.

“Angsty midnight drinking sesh with the hot-slash-insane bartender?” Ruby’s expression changed, and she pulled Emma toward her, both of her hands on Emma’s shoulders, her gaze boring into Emma’s skull. “Babe, listen. You know I love you. And I know we’re going through something terrible. But--”

“I know,” Emma said.

“This is insane, Em.”

“I know,” Emma said.

“There’s gotta be a better way for you to work through your shit,” Ruby said.

But that’s not what Emma did--was not how she operated.

She was going to do what she always did: run. It was all she knew how to do.

--

Emma tried hard to not imagine Jefferson watching them through his telescope as she guided Henry toward her car. Henry’s delight with the dilapidated little yellow Beetle was almost enough to banish the worry.

Almost.

Until she started driving toward the edge of the neighborhood and the questions started.

--

“Wait.” Henry was suddenly alert. “You want to go now? We’re leaving now?” He looked over his shoulder. “Where’s your stuff?”

“You’re all I need,” Emma said. “I’m getting you out of here. Away from all of this, away from her.”

“No.” There was steel in Henry’s voice. “No. Stop the car. You can’t leave--you have to stay, you have to break the curse.”

“I don’t,” Emma said. “I don’t have to do anything but help you.”

“Emma,” Henry said. He was pleading with her. “You’re a hero. You can’t run, not when you can help everybody.”

Emma bit her lip. “I know it’s hard for you to understand--”

“You’re scared,” Henry said. “That’s pretty easy for me to understand. I’m a kid, I’m not an idiot.” He crossed his arms.

“I’m doing what’s best for you,” Emma said, turning her blinker on as she came to the main street that would lead them back into the heart of the city. “That’s what you wanted, isn’t it? Isn’t that why you were looking for me?”

He shook his head. “I wanted you to break the curse. I wanted you to bring back the happy endings, and for us to be a family.” His voice broke. “Please, Emma, don’t make me go. We need you. Your family needs you.”

“Henry--”

He reached over and grabbed the steering wheel.

“Henry!” Emma swerved, yanking on the wheel to pull the car back onto the road and into the right lane. Her heart was racing as she turned to her son. “We need to--there’s a difference between fairy tales--fantasy--and reality.” “I’m not crazy,” Henry fumed. “Killian believes me!”

“Captain Hook’s opinion is not what I’m interested in right now, kid,” Emma snapped.

“You’re letting your feelings cloud your judgment. You’re scared, but you know I’m right. Running isn’t what’s best for me. Running is never what’s best. I thought--”

“What?” Emma said, her eyes flickering back to him.

“I thought you were different.” He slumped in his seat.

It was just a flash out of the corner of her eye--red eyes, four feet--and for a second, she would have sworn it was Graham.

The car went off the road.

--

Something was wrong with the apple tree.

It was black, the leaves curling in on themselves; the fruit wasn’t red, but shriveled and brown.

It was dying.

The man in the animal-skin coat with the glittery skin was visibly pleased, Emma could tell. His toothy grin was wide and his fingers positively writhed with glee.

“Excellent work, Savior,” he hissed. “The curse is weakening.”

“You want the curse broken,” she said. “Why?”

“I’m planning a little trip,” he said.

“You’re going to need travel insurance,” Regina said, and Emma whirled around. “Because I’ve found a solution to my Emma Swan problem.”

It wasn’t Regina Mills but the Evil Queen that stood before her, in a gown of jet black with divided skirts that trailed behind her. She held her hand, palm up, out in front of her, and there was a ball of fire in the air. “An old, reliable solution.”

“Ah, ah, ah,” Rumplestiltskin warned. “I’m sure I don’t have to remind you, Your Majesty, that all magic comes with a price.”

“Then you can pay it,” she seethed, and the ball of fire trembled.

An arrow shot through the air, causing the fire to extinguish itself, and Regina’s mouth dropped open. “You!” Her expression changed from shock to hurt to anger. “You could’ve hit me!”

“I never miss,” Graham said. His eyes flashed, one red and one black, and Emma saw the wolf.

--

They were back in the office.

Swan and Humbert.

“Emma,” he said. “I want to talk to you.”

“You--” Emma said. “You’re--”

“Please, Emma. I need you to understand.”

“Why?”

“So that I can understand,” he whispered, and kissed her, sending warmth from the tips of her fingers straight down to her toes. It wasn’t--it wasn’t a romantic feeling, it was comfort and affection and trust and connection.

It was being a part of something.

“Did you feel that?”

Emma nodded, speechless.

“That’s what you did for me,” Graham whispered. “I died a free man, Emma.”

She cupped his face in her hands, feeling the scratch of his stubble on her palms. He kissed her, again, on the crown of her head, and his fingers combed through her hair, stopping at the chain around her neck.

“Emma,” he said. “Your fate is in a precarious place. You must hurry.”

“Wait--” Emma said.

“The opportune moment will present itself,” Graham said. “The rest is up to you. Find your family, Emma. Free them from the curse.”

“You’re--can’t you come with me?”

“I cannot,” he said, but his voice held no regret. “I gave up my heart so that the queen would spare Snow White’s. Wait for the opportune moment. Don’t let my sacrifice be in vain.”

“Graham,” she said. “I’m sorry.”

She pulled him close, one more time, and kissed him softly on the mouth.

If the first time she kissed him had been a gentle brush against her soul--the warmth of a sunny day--this was an inferno, burning everything in its wake as the energy rushed through her. It was raw and unfettered as it pushed every molecule in her body, electrifying her senses until she couldn’t feel anything but him.

“It’s you,” Killian whispered. “Don’t you know, Emma? It’s all for you.”

She chased after him, searching for more, but he stopped her with a smile. “I know you feel like a pawn, love, but remember: you’re only a pawn if you don’t know you’re being played. There’s hope, Swan. All you have to do is believe.”

It was just a kiss, but it felt like--

“Just look at me,” he said, “and believe.”

It felt like magic.

--

Emma opened her eyes. She was once again on her back, on the least comfortable mattress she had ever had the misfortune to encounter--which was saying a lot, considering some of the places Emma had slept in her life. There was a single bare bulb illuminating the space and shadows cast along the wall by the bars of the cell door.

She was in one of David Nolan’s holding cells.

“What luck,” drawled a voice--a woman, haughty and self-assured and someone Emma had heard before. “The Savior.”

Emma did not sit up as she registered the words, or the obvious capital letters of the title; she merely waited, turning her head so that the speaker came into view. Her posture was impeccable, and though she did not appear especially tall she established a sense of presence. There was not a hair out of place on her head and her clothing was simple, but obviously expensive. It was easy to see where--who--Regina Mills had learned her habits from.

“Cora Mills,” Emma said, her attention going back to the ceiling and the bulb, making her affect as disinterested as possible. “You look pretty good for a dead woman.”

“So do you, dear.”

Emma’s already-spinning head took a moment to process that, and a deep breath that she hoped was not noticeable--but she did not give Cora the satisfaction of a reaction.

There was a low, throaty chuckle. “I’m glad to see you’re not wasting your energy on pleasantries, Miss Swan.”

Damn.

A villain with a sense of humor, then. Not that Emma had the energy to spare for ‘pleasantries,’ not after the accident and the dreams and--

“Hook?” Cora said.

Emma once again did not allow herself to react, but she wanted to, as she heard the footsteps, low and languid, and the dry tone of his voice when he said, “Startling, aren’t I?”

It took no effort at all for Emma to imagine him making an ironic bow. “Some might even say striking,” he said.

Emma willed herself not to move, to maintain her calm demeanor. She didn’t even turn to look at him, not when she recognized the cadence of his words and the harshness of his consonants.

“I appreciate the warm welcome,” he said into the silence. He gave new meaning to the word deadpan. “And what have we here, Your Majesty?”

That got Emma’s attention--fucking hell, was everybody royalty in this magical, mystical Enchanted Forest? She turned to face him, finally, unsurprised to see the carefully blank expression on his face. He lifted an eyebrow at the movement. “Oh,” he said, licking his lips. “Don’t get up, princess. Not when I can think of so many pleasurable things to do with a woman on her back.”

In spite of his tone--and his leer and his stupid fucking eyebrow--a shiver went through her as Emma remembered all of the times in their crazy-short acquaintence when the space between them had seemed nonexistent, the pull between them too great, and she wondered. She thought of the way he had kissed her in her dream and the way it had made her feel, and she wondered.

Just how many things did he know how to do, with a woman on her back?

“‘Your Majesty’?” Emma repeated, trying to shake herself loose of his jibe, and his eyebrow, and that other title. Speaking of royalty.

“Do not misunderstand me, princess.”

“Cora is the Queen of Hearts,” Hook replied, and she did not have to imagine it this time, the ironic tilt of his head or the quirk of his mouth. “In Wonderland.”

“I hate Wonderland.” That’s what he’d said, and he’d meant it all the way down to his bones, but there was no emotion in his words as he turned back to Cora. As if he was done with her already.

“The time for that is done." "Just as I have done with you.”

It was his voice that was doing that to her, making her doubt, making her uncomfortable, and it didn’t help when he said, “Cora, darling--you seem to have a Savior in a cage. How does one come upon such treasure?”

“It’s you, Emma. It’s all for you.”

Emma closed her eyes.

“After everything we’ve been through, Hook, why do you still doubt me?”

It’s all for you.

“When I’m the one who brought you here, and preserved your memories--your purpose?”

“Your arrival reminded me of my purpose, but I cared not one whit whether this curse ever broke.”

“I may be a simple pirate,” he said, “but I know where my interests lie. How else do you think she wound up so easily in your grasp? It was all about waiting, my dear Cora, for the opportune moment.”

Emma covered her sharp inhalation with a cough.

“Wait for the opportune moment.”

That’s what Graham had said--that’s what the man in her dreams had said.

“You might have imparted that advice to Jefferson,” Hook said darkly. “You realize he almost cost you everything?”

Killian. Killian had said that. Not Captain Hook.

This was it, Emma knew.

The opportune moment.

“Satisfied?” Hook asked Cora.

Emma was in a cell with a woman capable of murder and worse on the other side of the bars, and all Emma had was her wits and--if she could let herself believe it--Hook. She ignored his words, his tone, his eyebrow, all of it, and listened to what lay beneath: the flash of desperation she was sure she wasn’t imagining, and that phrase. Hook didn’t know--couldn’t know--that she had dreamt of him saying that. He didn’t know that she had overhead his rift with Cora.

“You chose her. Now you have to live with the consequences of that decision.”

He was trusting her. Trusting her to trust him.

Try something new, darling.

“You,” Emma spat.

It’s you, Emma. It’s all for you.

She stood up quickly and walked the three steps to the bars. “That’s why--that’s why you gave me my necklace back. It was all about making me believe I could trust you.” Emma put the extra emphasis on ‘my’ and waited, watching him as he took two steps forward and leaned his head so that he was almost directly against the cell door--so that their eyes met, and Emma knew she wasn’t imagining what she saw there.

Hope.

Just a flash, and so quickly she almost missed it--so quickly that she would have missed it, except that she was looking for it for the first time in her life.

“I should have known,” Emma said, putting bitterness into her words. “You’re not exactly the sentimental type, are you?”

It was funny, or it should have been, to accuse the man who claimed to have carried a grudge for three centuries of not being emotional.

“I’m not,” he agreed, biting off the word. “You should have thanked me, Swan. That’s what’s customary when one receives a gift.” His body blocked Emma’s view of Cora as his fingers brushed against hers, and Emma couldn’t suppress the shiver as she felt him. The same warmth and tingle she had felt in the office--“Perhaps it shall serve as a reminder to both of us”--he’d said, and she felt it again, the anticipation.

“Right,” Emma said sarcastically. “Because you’re a goddamn gentleman.” She stepped back, as much for herself as for the pretense, and she clamped her fingers around the small metal pin he had slipped her.

Maybe they really were a team.

“Because I believe in good form,” he said. It was his turn to step away and return his attention to Cora. “And speaking of intentions, love, what are yours toward our captive friend? Mercy seems a bit out of character.”

“Oh, not mercy, Hook,” Cora said. Her eyes were sharp and narrow and focused entirely on Emma. “She’s going to help me, whether she wants it or not. I intend to get what I need.”

Emma straightened her spine and looked Cora dead in the eye.

“It doesn’t matter,” Emma said. “You’re still going to lose.”

Cora laughed. “Such bravery.”

Emma could do this. Emma did do this, day in and day out--got her skips and perps and clients to talk to her, to stall, to tell her what she needed to know. She could do this. She could get out of this cell and out of this fuckery and take her son--

Her son, who had been in the car with her when she’d gone off the road--oh, shit, this was why she could never be a mother; where was her son, was he ok, who had him, all of the questions she should have had on repeat from the instant she’d regained consciousness were on a loop in her head as she tried to maintain her composure in front of Cora. The fucking Queen of Hearts.

Emma didn’t even know how long she’d been in this cell.

“You get off on this,” Emma said. “This is the part that you like, the control and the power trip--”

But Cora knew. The bitch could tell, could see it in her eyes or some shit, because she laughed.

Again.

“The Savior,” Cora said, drawing out the word in what was unmistakably a gloat. “But all you are, child, is a name on a piece of paper, did you know that? Did you know that Rumplestiltskin mapped out your life before you were even born?”

Emma wanted to laugh at that--to laugh, or to cry, because there was absolutely no one in this world who could have predicted the path that her life had taken to lead her to this moment. She had made her own choices, and had to live with her own mistakes, but no one was going to tell her who she was.

Only--

Henry would tell her to be a hero.

“You’re not powerful,” Cora said. “You’re a pawn, which is exactly why you are here. You’re the Savior because it was all part of the plan.”

“You’re only a pawn if you don’t know you’re being played.”

“This is the part where you tell me what you need, right?” Emma said.

“I need to be close to my daughter again,” Cora said simply. “You and this curse are currently the only things in the way of that.”

Emma barely flickered her eyes toward Hook before she punched back, a sudden flash of insight becoming clear to her. “What about the dagger, then?”

“The what?” Cora asked. She hadn’t even batted an eye, but Cora wasn’t the only one who could read people. Emma had gotten to her. Behind Cora, Hook shifted his weight, holding Emma’s gaze for just a split second with a barely-perceptible nod of his head.

Try something new, darling.

“Rumplestiltskin’s dagger,” Emma said, quietly enough that Cora needed to step closer. “That’s what you really want, isn’t it? The power? I wonder, Cora dear, what your grudge against the Dark One might be?”

That had to be it, Emma knew, otherwise Cora would be holed up with Gold, plotting to do whatever the fuck it was that people who wanted to break goddamn curses did. Bad blood there for sure, Emma decided, and knew she’d hit her mark because Cora’s expression changed. She was a handsome woman, but the glare she leveled at Emma could probably turn things into stone.

If Emma believed in magic. Or daggers, or Rumplestiltskin, or one-handed pirates with sinful eyelashes who couldn’t keep their own personal space; who read her like a goddamn book, who told her secrets in the dark that made her feel seen and understood and made her wonder, in all of those times they’d been inches apart, what it would feel like if there was no space between them at all.

But she didn’t. She didn’t believe in any of it.

Liar.

“Listen,” Emma said, leaning forward. “You should know that I don’t have any fucks to give about this fight. I don’t give a shit about plans or saviors or curses. I’m just trying to get justice for my partner, and to move the fuck on with my life.”

Emma did not look at Killian as she spoke. She meant it--she meant all of it.

Liar.

Cora’s eyebrows narrowed; she was clearly unimpressed. Definitely another expression Regina had learned from her mother.

Which was fine--Emma almost had the lock open, anyway.

“I’m not like him,” Emma said, gesturing with her chin at Hook. “I don’t have any grand delusions about my life or its purpose. You let me out, let me go on my way, and I will tell you where your precious fucking dagger is. Or I will see you behind these bars, Your Majesty.”

Emma pushed the door open and stepped out.

Cora laughed for the third time. It was refined, and practiced, and unpleasant, and all of the hairs on the back of Emma’s neck were standing on edge.

“You’re going to tell me,” Cora said, “or he is. I’ve been waiting twenty-eight years for this.”

Hook interjected then. “I’ve been waiting a hell of a lot longer than that, Your Majesty.”

“So pretty,” Cora sighed, “and yet so useless. You can hardly blame me, Hook, for your failure to seize the--how did you put it? The opportune moment. I told you, Hook--”

Cora moved, and Emma attempted to dodge.

She was unsuccessful.

“You chose her. Now, there will be consequences.”

And then all there was--was pain. Her body, about to split open--her lungs feeling like there could not possibly be enough air in the universe. The feeling of something closing in around her heart.

Crushing it--

--or trying to.

Emma could feel it, Cora’s hand actually inside of her body, and the violation of it all--the physical intimacy, for Cora to be that close and to have her fucking hand inside of Emma’s body--was almost as bad as the literal physical pain. Which was overwhelming.

Until it wasn’t.

Killian had Cora in a headlock, his hook against her neck. “Let. Her. Go.” Each word was its own sentence, snarled directly into Cora’s ear, and Emma could feel him pulling Cora away from her in the way that Cora did not let go of her heart.

Her fucking heart.

“Don’t you know, Hook?” Cora gasped. “Love is weakness.” Her grip tightened, and she pulled.

Like she was trying to pull Emma’s heart straight out of her body, and this was it, this was what had happened to Graham, this was how he had felt in the moments before he had died, like his body was exploding and collapsing in on itself all at the same time, in horrifying, indescribable agony--

“I died a free man, Emma.”

Only--

There was a burst of white light, and Cora hissed in pain. Her arm, her hand, stopped moving, and Emma could take a breath again as Cora sagged against Hook, who had not released her from his grip. His face was devoid of any emotion but his eyes were icy chips of pure rage as he pulled her bodily away from Emma, who doubled over the moment Cora’s hand left her chest, heaving breaths and swallowing the bile that bubbled up in her throat.

“What was that?” Emma said. Her words came in raspy syllables.

“That,” Hook said, and his voice made his face seem expressive, “was Cora’s final mistake.”

And it really wasn’t fair, Emma thought--later, much later--that for all of her wishing to know what was happening, what the actual fuck was happening, and where was her son--Henry burst through the door, tailed immediately by Regina as she harangued David, who was pulling a bewildered Mary Margaret along with him--as Killian dug the tip of his namesake gently into the delicate skin along Cora’s neck, and she gave a horrifying shudder.

So much for not believing in magic.

“Mother?” Regina said, rushing up behind Cora and catching her as Killian let her fall. “Mother? What’s wrong?”

@kmomof4​ @shireness-says​ @optomisticgirl​ @scientificapricot​ @captainsjedi​ @carpedzem​ @mariakov81​ @stahlop​ @eirabach​ @snowbellewells​ @searchingwardrobes​ @spartanguard​

[spncanonbigbang]

Masterpost 2017

Under the read more you’ll find the list of all the mini and big bangs from this year’s event. Enjoy and see you next year!

| 2017 | 2018 | 2019 | 2020

MiniBangs

Shut Up and Dance, Dean Winchester by Ailuromatron | art by emmatheslayer 8,3k; Teen and Up Audiences; Castiel/Dean Winchester

Dean is not going to think about the way Cas’ sudden withdrawal overlaps with the mental feedback Dean’s been experiencing here. He wouldn’t know what to make of it anyway, whether it’d be ironic or fitting or what. But if Castiel shutting him out turned out to be because Dean is loosening up, letting ideas form in his head more clearly than before—that would burn like a hot blade, and it just doesn’t bear looking too closely. It’s not the only thing tonight that doesn’t bear close inspection for the sake of Dean’s sanity. He damn near trips over his own feet when confronted by the south side of a north-facing Cas—seriously, when and where did he get that pair of ink-black jeans and in what universe is the way they fit his thighs not illegal?—and he’s pathetically grateful for the excuse of a rough patch of asphalt to blame it on when the others turn back to see what happened to him.

Misery & Solace by theackles | art by thruterryseyes 5k; General Audiences; Dean Winchester/Castiel

It’s been a week. One long, painfully numb week. The days went by one by one until Dean didn’t know what day it was anymore. Dean can feel the ache in his bones. He can’t move, he can barely think. He’s gotta get Cas back, even if it means working with Rowena and (almost) killing himself in the process.

A Lesson in Adapting by distortedrain | art by emotionallyunstabl 5,6k; Teen and Up Audiences; Castiel/Dean Winchester

The Winchesters settle into the Bunker and learn to hunt a little less a live a little more.

Fin ad Infinitum (The End Evermore) by AmberAnnh | art by lux-tuli 8,5k; PG-13; Gen

In “The End” Dean got the chance to see the future, zapped to a 2014 where the consequences of his choices had played out. Now, it’s Sam’s turn. Transported from 2009 to 2014, he must grapple with a demonic virus from his past, angels using the remnants of humanity as disposable vessels, the devil in his nightmares, and—perhaps worst of all—why Dean said “yes” to Michael.

If These Rooms Have Memories by KelpietheThundergod | art by malallory 12k; Mature; implied Castiel/Dean Winchester

Sudden light and sound make him flinch, but then, oh—cartoons! Awesome. Except then, the tall man comes over and takes the button-thingie out of his hand and shuts the cartoons off. “Dean, listen. The witches are gone, and they’ve got the Grimoire. We’re gonna do a spell to slow down the curse to buy some time, and then—” The man cuts himself off and his serious expression turns into one of exasperation. “You forgot again, didn’t you?”

Something Special by Durenjtmusings | art by Busy Squirrel 11,3k; General Audiences; Gen

What makes something special? Special enough for people to pay any price, beyond even their lives? Welcome to Lost and Found, Ltd., experts in finding very, very special things. Things that can be yours if you are willing to trade something very special in return. Well, and often even if you aren’t. [Canon-compliant possible backstory for both characters and objects in Supernatural: Dean, Sam, Bobby, Ruby, Jimmy Novak, Daniel Elkins, the Impala, Ruby’s knife, Dean’s Colt, Sam’s Taurus, the Samulet and The Colt.]

Exit: Light by hexmaniacchoco | art by quiescentcastiel 22,5k; Teen and Up Audiences; Gen

Dean, Sam, and Cas are relaxing in the bunker when Sam finds them a case involving three college students who’ve gotten themselves into trouble while playing a summoning game they found online, resulting in a nearly fatal incident. After investigating and figuring out what people are summoning into their homes, they decide to summon it as well in order to kill it. However, things aren’t quite what they seem at first, and a misjudgement of the situation finds TFW with the disadvantage as they walk around a pitch-black bunker trying to search out the creature they’re hunting without mistaking each other for it instead.

Mirror, Mirror by Jerksarehot | art by emmatheslayer 10,6k; Explicit; Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester

A witch with a taste for human souls reveals a secret to Dean before escaping with a promise to return. The boys recruit some help from Bobby to find a way to track and kill her. Dean must now decide if he should tell Sam the truth and risk losing him, or keep his dark secret and risk Sam’s life and his own soul.

The Night Goes By by indigoneutrino | art by Loracine 8,3k; Mature; Gen

It’s a long night when Sam and Dean first arrive at the prison, separated from each other to be strip searched, manhandled and humiliated before being thrown into cramped concrete cells. The nights that follow are longer.

Some Kind Of Monster by Hermit9 | art by Dmsilvisart 6,8k; Teen and Up Audiences; Gen

After leaving the Bunker and the Winchesters, Castiel attempts to earn his penance (again) by tracking down the escaped Lucifer. Crowley tagging along is both a blessing and a curse, the silver-tongued devil an asset during the investigations. If only he didn’t drive Castiel out of his mind. Set during and around “American Nightmare” up to “Rock Never dies”

A Mother’s Love by Leahlisabeth | art by kuwlshadow 5,2k; Teen and Up Audiences; Gen

Mary loves her boys, really she does, but she can’t quite seem to click with Sam. She’ll need to figure it out when a mother’s love is the only thing that can save him from a witches curse.

BigBangs

Always Stuck In Second Gear by ThayerKerbasy | art by dmsilvisart 29k; Teen and Up Audiences; Gen

After Wendy Vincente spilled the location of her brother’s secret cabin, Agents Beyoncé and Jay-Z had a lead to follow. Tracking Lucifer while confined to a pickup truck wasn’t exactly Crowley’s preferred modus operandi, but at least he was in good company.

and by me, i mean us by puckity | art by winchesterchola 16,5k; Explicit; Sam Winchester/Dean Winchester; Very Light Sam Winchester/Castiel

After what they think was just a routine case, Sam starts feelings things that he can’t quite put a name to. Things that aren’t really his but aren’t not his either. So he does what he always does: runs some tests, collects the data, and starts drawing conclusions. And then Dean does what he always does–comes in and tangles everything, including Sam, up. Timelined in early Season 12, prior to “First Blood” (12.09).

Blue Moon Rising by Treefrogie84 | art by Mayalaen 56,1k; Mature; Dean/Castiel, Dean/Lisa Braeden, Castiel/Dean/Lisa Braeden

Dean promised Sam that he would walk away from hunting, walk away from his family, and live some normal apple-pie life with Lisa. He did his best to do that– pulled the weapons out of the trunk, turned his back on Cas and Bobby, started spending his evenings with Lisa and Ben at Little League practice. But monsters don’t stop hurting folks, Hell doesn’t stop being Hell, and Heaven doesn’t start caring about humanity just because Dean’s retired.

Thunder on the Mountain by Skitty | art by kuwlshadow 23k; PB-13; Gen

A string of strange and seemingly unrelated tragedies are plaguing the Appalachian region. Children disappear. Men go insane. Hikers are mauled by large animals. And always…traveling Northward. Sam and Dean pick up the hunt in a small town outside the national forest. The creature they’re hunting is one of legend, feared by the native tribes that once populated the area centuries ago. With the unexpected aide of a strange woman also appearing to hunt the creature, the boys must attempt to bring it down before they lose their minds completely.

An Even Trade by PaperAnn | art by GlitchedWings 42,7k; Explicit; Sam Winchester/Gabriel

You’d think being relentlessly pursued by a tall, dark and handsome hunter would be an exciting game of chase. Until it wasn’t. Gabriel was growing bored of Sam Winchester’s constant tailing, still obsessed with getting his brother back, even though the Trickster was doing the kid a favor by offing Dean, thank you very much. He had to make this entertaining again, this new merciless killing-machine-Sam was no fun. They entered into a deal: Sam would work a case under the guise of a Trickster to see the reason behind the mischief by serving up a case of Just Desserts. If Sam won? He got Dean back. If he lost…well, Sam wasn’t going to lose, no matter the cost. Except, seven days of living on top of one another made Sam see beyond the monster who ruined him and back to the witty, cute janitor he met at Crawford Hall. There was also the problem of the two men, who were clearly attracted to each other, alone in a motel room for a full week. It was an accident waiting to happen. The puzzle was, neither knew who was manipulating who, if it was all a ploy or real emotions were coming out to play. The only thing both men recognized was something real was happening. And they were running out of time.

Lock & Key by MyShipWillNeverSink | art by Gabedrawz 18k; Explicit; Dean Winchester/Castiel

Canon divergent from 9x03. Dean and Cas set off on a hunt as a distraction from the guilt Dean feels for betraying his brother’s trust (again). Things go awry when Castiel falls through a frozen river, and things aren’t at all what they seem.

Build a Home by domesticadventures | art by myukur 20k; Teen and Up Audiences; Dean/Cas; background Sam/Eileen and Krissy/Josephine

After they save the world, Dean expects Cas to come back to the bunker with them. He doesn’t.

What Went Wrong Yesterday by cinnamonanddean | art by stormbrite 16,2k; Explicit; Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester

With Broward County in their rearview and a new case in their laps, Sam struggles to come to terms with the six months he spent alone after Dean’s death - and the fact that it never happened at all. And on top of it all, he now has to deal with the feelings for his brother that have been dragged to the surface.

The Heart of Ophelia by anyrei and mugglerock | art by nonexistenz 39k; Explicit;  Dean Winchester/Castiel

Always throwing himself in harm’s way for the Winchesters, Castiel ends up getting hit with a love curse. Under the influence of fabricated emotions, Castiel learns just how dangerous unrequited love can be. And Dean learns what it means to doubt everything he’s ever believed. They have a week to find a way to lift the curse, otherwise the intoxication of “love” will kill Castiel. Literally.

When Words Fade, Music Speaks by Pinkmink | art by Dreymart 16,9k; Explicit; Dean Winchester/Castiel

The Brits have Dean running ragged all across the country. When Cas returns from his not-so-brief time in Heaven, Dean finds them a case in New Orleans. It’s supposed to feel like a Winchester version of vacation - voodoo, good food and a simple salt and burn. But the trip turns out to be a far more cathartic release than he bargained for.

Fight or Flight by ellispark | art by emotionallyunstabl 23k; Mature; Dean Winchester/Castiel, Sam Winchester/Eileen Leahy

Just when Dean’s started to feel good about his life — the end is not nigh, and his brother and his angel are safe in the bunker — Sam and Cas start keeping secrets from him. It’s not a big deal, at least not at first. Everyone needs to play some things close to the chest. But when Dean finds out what they’ve been hiding, the bubble of carefree happiness he’s carefully placed around his family finally bursts.

Long Distance by grey2510 | art by Marsjay 18,9k; Teen and Up Audiences; Jody Mills/Asa Fox, Dean Winchester/Castiel, Sam Winchester/Eileen Leahy

Losing someone is never easy, nor is having them far away, no matter how often it happens in a hunter’s life. When Jody, Sam, and Dean travel up to Canada for the wake and funeral of Asa Fox, each is forced to confront some truths about family and who is really important in their lives.

Entwined Souls by sweet-sammy-kisses | art by lux-tuli 16,3k; Teen and Up Audiences; Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester

Sam was all prepared to spend eternity in the cage trapped at the mercy of Lucifer and Michael if it meant that Dean would be safe. What no one counted on was Chuck to come back or turn out to be God. With Ellen, Ash and Jo brought back as a thank you gift for all the boys have done Dean and Sam are at a loss of what to do when Chuck announces he is taking the angels back to heaven and closing the gates of hell up. There is one thing the boys both want and that is the one thing they are afraid to go after, each other. But after almost losing each other one too many times they decide to take a chance and now the life of retirement is discovering the next step in their relationship.

Humanity's Angels by Ami Rose | art by sevenspirals 94k; Explicit; Dean Winchester/Castiel, Background Sam Winchester/Eileen Leahy, Background Original Characters OT3

To get their minds off of Kelly Kline, Lucifer, and the BMOL, Dean and Sam take a case in Northern Arizona where a rogue angel was seen flashing his wings at a film festival and ranting about blasphemy. They quickly realize that there might be more to this case than they’d initially thought. The angel fits all the characteristics of being a ghost—EMF readings, see-through body, air chilling ability, and all. A local man is found with his eyes burned out like he was the victim of a smiting keeps them in town after salting and burning the angel’s buried vessel in hopes of dispelling his ghost.

Between all of this, Dean is finding it hard to keep his feelings for Cas under wraps. Especially when everywhere he looks and everyone he talks to reminds him of how much energy he’s spent hiding his sexuality from his family over the years.

Will watching the ghost angel’s grieving best friend mourn the loss of the angel he’d loved spur Dean into confessing his own feelings before it’s too late? Will an angel from Cas’s past be able to succeed where Ishim failed? Who the hell has Sam been texting? Will someone please tell Mary what the hell is going on with her sons? Will any of Team Free Will learn to use their damn words?

[synthwanderer-archive]

| FALLOUT OC INFO SHEET |

format taken from @madddraws thanks! 

under read more cause it long

Name: Vaughn Zander

Nickname: Vonny, Blue

Age: 32 

Height: 1.80 M

Weight: 85 KG

Specials: 11 ST, 6 PE, 5 EN, 11 CH, 12 IN, 4 AG, 4 LK

Eyes: steel-grey

Hair: light brown

Body type: tall, muscular, mesomorph type, broad shoulders

Status Pre-War: family doctor, veteran combat medic

Status Currently: General of the Minuteman, Paladin of BOS, Agent of Railroad, Atom Cat, Friend of Far Harbor, Protector of Acadia, Atom’s Fave Child

Relationship Status: widowed, then remarried

Spouse(s): (past) Nora (deceased, killed)

(present) John Hancock, Nick Valentine

Orientation: panromantic/polyamorous bisexual

Gender: cisgender male

Ethnicity: white (has greek heritage from his mother)

Family: (past) Ryan Hudson-Zander (father), Olivia Zander (mother), Vincent Nathaniel Hudson* (cousin), Michael Hudson (uncle), Nora Zander (wife)

(current) John Hancock-Zander, Nick Valentine-Zander (husbands), Shaun John Zander (adopted son), Codsworth, Dogmeat

Languages: English (first language), Greek, German, Spanish, Italian, can understand Russian and Chinese, sign language

Disabilities/Illnesses/Injuries: myopia, damaged nose (his sense of smell is weak to almost non existent), left leg being shot (has difficulties in running or walking for a longer time, tends to limp), anxiety, depression, highly sensible at high/loud noises, insomnia

Allergies: dust, wool

Scars: one small scar above left eyebrow, one on the left cheek, a cut between his eyes, cuts and scars on the left side of his mouth, several scars on the chest, a scar on left leg

Physical traits: tattoo flower with the name “Olivia” on it (his mother’s name) on left shoulder, broad shoulders, muscular frame, muscular arms, steel-grey eyes

Voice: calm, deep, soothing, can change his accent easily, can adapt it to any situation

Clothing: old Vault 111 suit (now its a faded blue with patches around), leather pieces of armor (one simple chest piece made from a strap with pockets that goes on his right shoulder; one fully piece of leather that covers his chest and back, full of pockets, shoulder protections with spikes on them, and his legs are covered in studded leather armor), Vault 81 suit, Vault 88 suit, drifter outfit, road leathers, General outfit, casual outfit, army fatigues, military fatigues

Weapon of Choice: Wazer Wifle, Kellogg’s Pistol, Furious Power Fist, Lucky Shielded Gauss Rifle, Wounding Missile Launcher, Irradiated Fat Man

Skills: advanced medical knowledge, cooking, melee attacks

Weaknesses: sneaking, running for long time

Poor skills: shooting at normal or long range

Affiliations: Minutemen, BOS, Railroad, Atom Cats, Far Harbor, Acadia, Children of Atom

Former Affiliations: Institute and Raiders of Nuka World

Enemies: the Institute (destroyed), Nuka-World Raiders (defeated), Gunners, Rust Devils, Trappers, Triggermen

Neutral Affiliations: Scavengers, Traders

Religion: none

Likes: helping people, cooking, reading, listening music, collecting different stuffs, picking locks, sorting out the stuff, taking care of the radchickens, playing with Dogmeat, spending time with his family and friends

Dislikes: lying, betraying people, raiders, Gunners, loud/high noises, rude people, violence, stealing

Hates: murder, cannibalism, abuse of any kind towards anyone, refusing to help people, racism towards ghouls and synths

Friends: John Hancock, Nick Valentine, Codsworth, Preston Garvey, Danse, Robert Joseph MacCready, Curie, Deacon, Piper Wright, Cait, Daisy, Ingram, Teagan, Cade, Haylen, Sturges, Debbie*

Acquaintances: Edward Deagan, Jack Cabot, Old Longfellow, Glory, Magnolia, Desdemona, Arturo, KL-E-O, Kells, Richter, the Atom Cats, Cricket, Kessler, Wiseman, Fahrenheit, Doc Weathers, Doctor Sun, Bobrov brothers, Ellie Perkins, Ronnie Shaw, DiMA

Former friends: X6-88, Gage

Enemies: Kellogg (killed)

Pets: Dogmeat, Gracie (mutant hound), Misha (wolf), lots of radchickens

Other friends/family: Courier Tamir, Dovahkiin (Khajiit) Kahurangi (my other OCs)

(other people’s OCs) 

- Dovahkiin (Dunmer) Saigera - belongs to @knightamer

- Deborah “Debbie” Gaines* (companion!AU Debbie adopted in canon story), Ellie Connor* (companion!AU Vaughn adopted in her canon story), Rosaline Dupart* (companion in same verse as Ellie and companion!AU Vaughn), belongs to @lilyblue-bubbles

- Vincent Nathaniel Hudson* (cousin in canon story) - belongs to @theartofblossoming

Personality:  Good traits: intelligent, adaptable, loyal, kind, helpful, logical, honest, charismatic, protective, patient, calm, gentle, observant, supportive, respectful, neat, has a soft spot for children and animals

Flaws: lazy, coward, naive, sensitive, anxious, sometimes arrogant, clumsy, sometimes nervous, sarcastic, insecure, low self-esteem, hoarder

Favorite color: blue

Favorite foods: blamco mac and cheese, carrot, cooked softsheel meat, corn, cram, deathclaw steak, fried fog crawler, gatorclaw steak, gazelle steak, gourd, grilled nukalurk, grilled queen nukalurk, grilled hermit crab, grilled radstag, iguana on a stick, iguana soup, instamash, melon, mirelurk cake, mirelurk jerky, mirelurk queen steak, noodle cup, poached angler, pork n’ beans, potato crips, radscorpion steak, radstag stew, razorgrain, ribeye steak, salisbury steak, squirrel on a stick, tato, tarberry, vegetable soup, wolf ribs, yao guai ribs, yao guai roast

Favorite drinks: beer, bourbon, dirty wastelander, gwinnett ale, gwinnett brew, gwinnett lager, gwinnett pale, gwinnett pilsner, gwinnett stout, ice cold beer, newka-cola, nuka-berry, nuka-cherry, nuka-cola, nuka-cola dark, nuka cola orange, nuka cola quartz, nuka fancy, purified water, refreshing beverage, vim, vim quartz, vodka, whiskey, wine

Favorite Sweets: bubblegum, cotton candy bites, dandy boy apples, fancy lads snack cakes, funnel cake, sugar bombs

Other AUs: 

- Companion!AU Vaughn Zander (x) - official AU

- other AUs, not named

OTHER INFO

Backstory:

- his parents, Ryan Hudson-Zander, his father, was a Brigadier General, his mother, Olivia Zander was a pharmacist;

- graduated Harward Medical School, he works for a while as a family doctor in a small clinic, also meets Nora in that time (their parents were friends);

- his father forces him to join the army and signs as combat medic;

- stays 1 year in the army, signs off when he finds out his cousin and his father were killed on the battlefield;

- tries his best to recover from the army and from the lose of his cousin, Nora finds out and decides to help him, even convincing him and helping him to retake his job as family doctor;

- later he married Nora, and moves to Sanctuary Hills, in the house that Vaughn’s mother bought for them.

Present:

- being driven by revenge, he has nothing on his mind but to kill Kellogg

- passing close to the Museum of Freedom, he first refuse to help Preston, but then he and Codsworth were driven by raiders in the museum, helps them and escort them to the Sanctuary, but refuse to help them further, going to DC;

- meets Piper, gives the interview, goes to rescue Nick and finds Kellogg and kills him;

- joins the Minuteman later after he and Nick gets out from the Glowing Sea;

- meets and recruit Deborah Gaines (@lilyblue-bubbles’s OC);

- both of them joins BOS for spying on them and getting more intel;

- rebuilds the Minuteman, retakes the Castle and helps the settlements;

- befriends Hancock, MacCready, Piper, Cait, Curie and Danse;

- joins the Railroad, later he also helps Debbie to rejoin RR and she becomes Agent Bloom, heavy for RR;

- gets in the Institute, tries his best to bond again with Shaun but with no success, both arguing on the current situation;

- saves Danse and threaten Maxson to never hunt down Danse; 

- after the battle of Bunker Hill, he returns the synths to the Institute, and when Desdemona finds out, she banishes him from the RR, despite Deacon's and Debbie's arguments

- being stressed out, later he hurts a scientist after they insult him constantly, and gets banished from the Institute; 

- 2 weeks later, Sanctuary gets attacked by the Institute synths but its saved; 

- Vaughn gather the Minuteman and some of the companions and launch an attack to the Institute; 

- saves little Shaun and adopts him; 

- later on, Vaughn gets married with Hancock and Nick, all moving to the newly constructed house in Sanctuary;

- gets reaccepted in RR, but he doesnt wish to come there often;

- continues to help the Commonwealth with the Minuteman;

- later, he joins Nick to Far Harbor;

- they help the people of Far Harbor, gaining their trust;

- meets DiMA and agree to help him out;

- joins Children of Atom “by mistake” - tried to sneak into their base, they were caught and Vaughn wanted to join them (despite Nick’s protests)

- finds DiMA’s memories and helps Nick figure it out his past and accepts DiMA as his brother;

- agree to hide DiMA’s secrets and helps him out with the Children of Atom and finally make peace;

- months later, on a patrol mission, Vaughn and Danse were caught up by the raiders in Nuka World and survive the Gauntlet, Vaughn becoming the Overboss;

- making plans, Vaughn and Danse agreed to earn the raiders’s trust and attack them when they wont expect;

- later after the raiders were defeated, the Nuka World is freed and is under Minuteman’s control

(MORE TO COME)

[thegeminisage]

more zeldablogging! hello, future me, i hope you’re enjoying these

today: lake hyrule!

the tower is next to not-eldin bridge so maybe i should approach from there and not faron tower

but i can see farosh's bridge from here and it's juuust the right time

maybe i'll just got wait a few moments and see if he appears

AAAH THERE HE IS!!!!

and another scale :3

i wish i could get horn shards tho :/

lol i get super sad whenever i go back to the plateau even just to glide off the tower ): old man ))):

i used to think it was so tall! and now it looks so normal bc i've seen so much taller.

did NOT miss the rain while i was at death mountain

lol i can't believe these two puny lizalfos once prevented me from crossing this bridge bc it was too difficult of a fight

and FINALLY i'm across for real

and map obtained

i feel like lake hylia is about the same size here as in tp, but in tp it feels much bigger than it does here bc this world is already so huge and dwarfs even the massive divine beasts

god i can't BELIEVE i am always so low on arrows. frankly: an outrage

lol instead of going to the lake im getting the shrines i have seen from other provinces first

whoa these colums are cool

this zone is called faron woods? not even in faron province, hahaha

ooh there's a lady here talking about the horse revival fountain! i did see something about a lord horse lake or something on the map, so i guess that's it

ugh why is it ALWAYS raining

i'll admit i'm in the stage where like, i'm okay with not walking BY every tree, just maybe seeing them all, maybe even seeing them from a distant ledge or my glider

which isn't to say the world has lost its charm or im tired of exploring, exploring and crafting is basically all you do in skyrim and it pretty much never gets old, but i'm more anxious now to uncover the plot than i was before, which speaks to the game's storytelling skills, yet still feel the compulsive need to explore Everything before moving on lol

i don't typically do a lot of post-game play so i know after i kill the final boss that'll be that

ah here's the shrine maybe the rain will have stopped by the time i get out

NOOO a combat trial......!

but it says minor test of strength so that should be okay :|

ahaha got it in half a dozen hits

unfortunately i have so many great weapons i can't hold the ones i get from this thing or the one in the chest :| i need my shit to break!! i guess i need.....to fight more. ugrh.

god i have like 12 orbs now i should go trade them in lol

i keep forgetting!!

@self pls remember

jesus. it's still raining.

me: i need to fight more!

me: sees two lizalfos, groans

if i had arrows i would just take them out from afar

that's my instinct in skyrim, you know? i'm a sniper at heart, combat isn't my thing

but i have no arrows and too many weapons so i guess i gotta change it up

lol and learn to block my shields NEVER break bc i don't use them bc i don't really know how

that and i'm always fucking carrying two-handed weapons :| i want more one-handers

MAN i one-shotted both of them when it took three hits before with the same weapon...! this atk+ helmet does not fuck around im never taking it off again

the ruins in these woods are making me feel Some Kind Of Way

i hope the lost woods are in this game

i mean, they gotta be, if the master sword is sleeping somewhere in a forest

i hope it's cool when you get the sword. that's all i care about

i'm lying i hope ganon the man is in this game too but

im trying to keep my expectations reasonable

I HEAR KASS! where are you buddy i can't see you

ooh this shrine puzzle is about a forest dragon....FAROSH, MY BUDDY

lol yesterday my brother texted me like where the fuck are you getting all these hearty radishes? me: faron my dude

faron and apparently lake hylia too are absolutely thick with them

oh my god there's a lizalfos camp here and they saw me coming from MILES away how even

naturally they've ALL got shock arrows in this very marshy watery area

good thing i can one-shot them.

oooh there's a glowing goddess statue here

ah this is where i offer a farosh scale, like i offered one for naydra and need to offer one of dinaal

weeeeellll i do have 3-4 of them now so i guess so!

i'd hate to miss a shrine and have to come back

holy SHIT there's a thunderspear in here! fair trade my dude! glad i broke one of my swords at the lizalfos camp lol

ah and now this goddess statue will let me trade orbs!! YES

i got 1 heart and 2 things of stamina which means i have 2 full wheels. i can do ANYTHING

i just swam climbed ran and glided with the same burst without putting on special gear it was GREAT

YES i found the horse lake and there's a great fairy here!!!! fuck yeah!!!!!!!

HOLY FUCK THATS IS ONE CREEPY LOOKING FAIRY

awww it plays epona's song

ah and i found a stable nearby!! good

there's an obstacle course here that i can do w/ my horse for gear, which i Want, but i SUCK at it, so

omg i made friends with a dog ;w; it follows me around

i tried to feed it meat but no dice

the start screen said something cool about befriending them...i wish i remembered what exactly!

ooh there's a quest here to catch the Giant horse...im gonna try it

im riding jemma now as well :3 these places have easy access for horses and i'm not as compulsive in my investigation of Every Single Thing so thats nice

nooooo there's a lynel in the way ;_;

even IF i snuck past it to GET the horse to REGISTER it i never could

i have to fight it. i have no choice

gotta get jemma out of harm's way first

im so nervous )))):

but i put on my soldier's gear and atk helm and drank a defense elixir and gave myself extra hearts so!!!!! hopefully!!!! it'll be ok!!!!!!!

i did it!!! it actually wasn't even too bad with the elixir and the armor

this is gonna be a long boring walk...highkey tempted to go get jemma but im afraid she would get hurt. and like. i know, i can revive her. but god.

THERE IS

ANOTHER LYNEL LOL

JESUS CHRIST

god i bet this WHOLE LANE is full of them

good thing i didn't bring jemma

beat him!! Not Even That Bad

omg I FOUND THE GIANT HORSE

and it looks just like ganondorf's, which my brother spoiled for me hahaha

IM GONNA CATCH HIM

ohhh my god im so nervous. him Big

i know it takes at least two full wheels to soothe him, which i have, but i brought potions too, like i just happened to cook some up last time

GOD I DID IT but okay jfc this is only the beginning i still gotta get him aaaaall the way back to the stable ;_;

and you have to do it at the slowest speed or he'll buck you i think

oh my god oh my god

we did manage a light trot a few times but i don't wanan risk it too much

i soothe it every time it does what i ask haha and it's given me the hearts many times!! so that's a good sign

so far so good abt halfway there

OH MY GOD A FUCKING THUNDER KEESE KNOCKED ME OFF

and shocked him!! poor baby

fucking HELL he ran away

i caught up to him and thank god he let me get right back on

maybe i'll get off and feed him some apples tbh

thank god i cleared out so many of these enemies beforehand tbh

tho i noticed lol the coyotes ran away from it maybe more things do!!

oh my god so i’ve been seeing bigass skeletons on the ground but they don’t move and i thought it was decoration or w/e, rightbut i rode past one on the way to catch the horse, and rode past it AGAIN on the way back, and IT’S A FUCKING HINOX SKELETON UP WALKING AROUND fuck no i’m glad we’re up on a cluff and it can’t see useven the live ones just sleep all the time my dude what the fuck?

HAHAHA I MADE IT

we took the last third of the way at a light trot so we're making progress!

uh holy shit apparently im already at max bond?? god Damn

oooh my gosh what do i NAME him

ganondorf's horse doesn't have a canonical name...

king of something?? idk if i even have room

thief by itself seems a little underwhelming...

ooh maybe phantom? for phantom ganon

midnight is too common, something with flames or fire could be cool for the mane but

i think phantom is what we'll go with

oh my god i'm trying the obstacle course with phantom and i LOVE this horse he turns SO well

AND once he gets to top speed, which admittedly isn't fast, he can stay there forever bc unlimited stamina!!

i still can't do the obstacle course lol the horse just straight up goes around the things most of the time and i looked up like, tips online, and apparently it's really fucking buggy, so, no. i got better things to do

LMAO so im going up to lake hylia finally and i have already run over so many birds this guy can trample anything hes a Big strong Boy i love him

oh hey there's a zora out here at this island!

ohhhh my gosh dude farosh is here at the lake too !! man he is. so cool

he? she? i saw someone online refer to them as shes

theyre named after goddeses but dragons were always boys in this series

i like girls better tho so

she doesn't stay very long here

like, she leaves very quickly as opposed to down in faron where i've seen her circle many times

oh god im at the ruined village again where i saw my first blood moon... #cursed

at least it's daytime now

OMG A FIRE WIZZROBE IM GONNA GET ME A FIRE ROD YES

omg a super fire rod. a meteor rod. #nice

lol wizzrobes are easy to fight you just use the proper elemental arrow and don't let them see you. if they DO see you you die tho

now that im not pissing myself in sheer terror these ruins make me Sad jesus christ im so sad for all of hyrule

BRUH there's a stone talus here!!!!

ugh i wanted to mark the miniboss spot but im OUT OF STAMPS

guess i can't mark cooking pots after all but with the interactive map + my sheikah sensor if i ever TRULY need to find one that should be ok i guess :/

/unmarks them all, SADLY!

killed the talus without even using any special food, haha - don’t have to be afraid of them anymore! becoming less afraid of red lynels, can’t wait for the day when i’m not afraid of guardians

there's a korok seed puzzle here where you have to roll a boulder UP a hill are yu fucking kidding me

ooh maybe i could have used stasis from up there...lmao fuck

maybe i can use it from down here

i hate using stasis tho like it fucks up your weapons and i know i said i need to break some but that's just WASTEFUL

wow and it didn't do anything from down here anyway. ok i'll just come back to this :/

hey and that's all of lake hylia explored :')

tomorrow: gerudo desert!!!! me: HYPE!!!!!!!

well actually my brother's visiting so tomorrow: amiibo, but. yeah.

[epicstuckyficrecs]

Weekly Recap | September 28-October 4th 2020

Got my reading groove back! 😃 

Complete

Children of the Sun (That's the Origin of Love) by starknjarvis/ @starknjarvis (Uni AU | 8K | Mature): Bucky has a final exam tomorrow, has just realized he's in love with his best friend, and Natasha won't stop calling him an idiot.He seriously needs a vacation.

💙 american stories burning before me by voxofthevoid/ @voxofthevoid​ (Vampire Steve, WS!Bucky | 8K | Explicit): Mid-December, a man tries to kill Steve and fails.When it’s over, there’s a hole in Steve’s lungs and blood on his bed and a masked man with blank blue eyes pinned under his bulk. There’s a mind that breaks open for him and a throat that arches in silent submission, and there’s blood that tastes like nothing that’s ever touched Steve’s tongue, spring and winter in bursts of red.It’s been a long time since Steve wanted to keep a human—centuries since the nights spent stalking Sam through the shadows of dark alleys and decades since the day Peggy realized what he was and drew a gun on him.

💙 king cobra by mcwho (Shrunkyclunks | 6,7K | Explicit): Bucky scored his tech internship with SHIELD two months ago and has been plotting his way into the good Captain’s pants ever since.

Nerd-a-licious by Brokenwords (High School AU | 10K | Explicit): Bucky leaned against his locker and watched with a smirk as Steve shambled by. One would think, with a face and build like that, the tall senior would be the life of the party, the jock, the cool kid everyone wanted to be. Instead, he was the artistic, painfully awkward loser that more often than not tripped over his own two feet or got into arguments with teachers over human rights issues. However, he had one prominent thing going for him - Steve, with his utter lack of fashion sense, was smoking-fucking-hot, and Bucky wanted a piece. He’d even bet, that once he got past the stupid bristly holier-than-thou exterior, there was a sadistic streak a mild wide, those nerdy types always had complexes. Smirk growing into a proper grin, Bucky pushed off the metal cabinet with his shoulder and slouched on behind.

💙 the gentleness that comes not from the absence of violence (but despite the abundance of it) by voxofthevoid/ @voxofthevoid​ (Shrunkyclunks, Canon-divergent, Post-EG): But Steve looks as young as the day Bucky met him, while Bucky—who lost a whole five years of his life, five years that Steve lived—has laugh lines around his mouth and a grey hair or ten. He’s nowhere near death, but even with the lost years, he’s closer to forty than thirty, and he has the feeling that in maybe three more decades, Steve will look like his son and not his lover. Bucky almost speaks, voices it out loud. But he doesn’t, holding his tongue so he doesn’t pour poison over this soft, idyllic evening where Steve’s drenched in sunlight and Bucky’s lost the tension in his bones and they’re a family of two men and a cat. - A soft epilogue. (Part 6 of the hero's shoulders)

WIP

💙 Charged by cydonic (Modern AU | 1/8 | 3K | Explicit): Steve Rogers has more money than he knows what to do with, a gorgeous penthouse apartment, and two beautiful girls who have terrorised every previous nanny into resignation. Bucky Barnes is an accomplished sex worker with a mountain of ill-advised debt, who just so happens to have helped raise his four sisters alongside his mother.It's a common mistake to make, thinking the beautiful man at your door is the new nanny for your twin girls and not an escort hired by your friend to keep you company for the night. Right?

💙 Revenance by JJK/ @trenchcoatsandtimetravel, SinpaiCasanova (The Old Guard AU/The Song of Achilles AU | 11/? | 36K | Mature | Warning: Violence, MCD): And perhaps it is the greater grief, after all, to be left on earth when another is gone. Or, the one where Steve and Bucky are immortal and used to be known as Achilles and Patroclus.

💙 Bittersweet in the Sunlight by 2bestfriends/ @addyetc​ (Vampire Bucky, Werewolf Steve | 2/11 | 11K | Explicit): 200 years is a long time to be lonely, but much like everything Bucky puts his mind to, he has perfected it. He has a string of dedicated human suitors and a well-curated existence of luxury and excess with no motivation to see a shift in his status quo. Then he meets Steve Rogers. Steve's life has been long and full of pack, family, and love. These days, he lives comfortably and loves at his leisure, content to be part of a well-established pack that has flourished for centuries, both in his homeland of Ireland and in New York. Meeting James Barnes provides an unexpected amusement that he's more than happy to indulge in.

💙 Underneath the Shattered Sky by JJK/ @trenchcoatsandtimetravel​ (Planet Hulk AU, Post-Endgame | 3/? | 10K | Mature): “I shouldn’t have tried to kiss you.” Steve sounded choked. “I’m sorry. It was out of line.” “It’s really okay.” “No, it’s not. You’re not him. You’re your own person, with your own history, your own thoughts and feelings. Your own life here. I can’t expect you to be him. It’s not fair. To either of you.” “Maybe not,” Bucky huffed back. “But in this universe, my Steve’s an asshole who left me. And in your universe, your Bucky was taken from you, so I don’t really know what’s fair anymore.”

💙 A Place Not Far Away by luninosity/ @luninosity (Evanstan AU | 5/7 | 30K | Mature): It’s time for the Evans Family Farm annual Harvest Festival. Sebastian’s here to do a story about it. Chris Evans, like apple cider, is delicious.

💙 four dreams in a row where you were burned by voxofthevoid/ @voxofthevoid (canon divergent, post-Endgame, 1945 alternate timeline | 12/13 | 70K | Mature): When Steve uses the last of his Pym Particles to travel to 1944 and save his best friend, he doesn’t have a plan beyond leaving behind the battlefield and living his life alongside the people he loves. But the life that finds him is not the one he expects.

[hawkingbishop]

OC questions:

I’m gonna answer these for my character Rebecca Tollingworth. Who I later changed to Persephone Rhodes. She’s from the story The Undeclared Life of Marilynn Baxter.

1. What’s their full name? If they’re an alien and their name is in their native planet’s language, have you thought about what it means? —// Rebecca Philippa Ann Tollingworth —// and then later on —// Persephone Alexandra Rhodes

2. Say your OC made a playlist on Spotify. What bands would be on that playlist? Any specific genres? —// I actually have writing playlists for different characters. —// https://open.spotify.com/user/hawkingbishop/playlist/4munDDgJ08wsBLwSXc0e73?si=3X6dnju1 —// That’s the one specific to Rebecca/Persephone, but I have a few more for Rebecca/Marilynn and one full playlist for the whole story. —// I’ll go back and add links for those. —// Brand New, The Wooden Birds, The New Amsterdams, The American Analog Set, Fiona Apple, Tegan and Sara, Jenny Owen Youngs, Uh Huh Her, Do Make Say Think, Yeah Yeah Yeahs, Paramore, Daughter, Kate Nash, Kesha, No Doubt, Weezer, Feist, Metric, Bright Eyes. —// She likes a lot of music. She bonds with Marilynn over music. They share bands back and forth.

3. What kind of video games would they play? Any specific titles? —// LIFE IS STRANGE. —// She’d probably play Overwatch. Portal, Halo, Fallout 4. —// She’d probably be a Nintendo fan. Mario Kart, Pokémon, Zelda, etc…

4. What would their favorite cartoons be, and why? What would their favorite characters be? —// Sailor Moon, Hey Arnold!, The Powerpuff Girls, Totally Spies, Jem, Gargoyles, Doug, Scooby Doo, Aladdin, X-Men, Spider-Man, Batman, Recess, Captain Planet, Daria, Pepper Ann, Kim Possible, Gummi Bears, Care Bears, Futurama, Avatar, The Legend of Korra. —// She loved these because they showed her tough, strong, independent women. Also they were super cool with superheroes and adventurers. (Plus she had a crush on most of the girls.) —// Faves would be Korra/Asami, Katara and Toph, Elisa and Demona from Gargoyles, Daria and Jane, Sailor Uranus, Spinelli from Recess, Shego and Kim Possible, Rogue from X-Men, Patti Mayonaise from Doug, Leela from Futurama.

5. What’s their favorite type of weather? Do they like to do anything specific on days when the weather is how they like it? —// Autumn for sure. She likes wearing nice warm sweaters and going for a walk, watching the leaves rustle in the cool breeze, listening to music. She likes hot cocoa. She likes snuggling with Marilynn (both for gay reasons but also just friend reasons).

6. If they’re a fan of Hot Chocolate, Tea, or Coffee, how do they like either of those drinks prepared? —// All of the above! —// Hot Chocolate with mini marshmallows. —// Tea with sugar, milk, and honey. —// Coffee with sugar and milk. —// She likes chai lattes. Caramel Macchiato.

7. What kind of animals would they like as a pet? What names would they give their pets if they got any? If they already have pet’s what are their names? —// She’d love cats and/or dogs. —// I forget if she already had a pet. I tried looking back but couldn’t find anything… —// She’d have a cat named Lara Croft and a puppy named Hades. (Get it? Because she’s Persephone. I’m so lame…)

8. How does your OC keep track of time? Do they have a planner? A calendar? —// She has a journal she’s constantly writing in. So each page has the time and date. —// Other than that she has a wall calendar of Symmetra and she uses the calendar on her phone.

9. How do they write? Do they write in cursive? How do they dot their i’s and j’s? Do they have specific ways that they write certain letters? —// She’s a neat writer. Print. The perfect mix of bubbly and square. Sometimes she put stars above the “i” and “j”. Most times it’s just a big dot. —// She writes “z” and “7” with a line through it. —// She sometimes mixes cursive and print.

10. What’s their favorite time of day? —// Evening. She loves the dark, cool, quiet of it.

11. What kinds of foods and drinks do they like? Do they like certain foods to be fried? Do they prefer certain foods to be prepared hot/cold? —// She tries to be a vegetarian. She’s mostly good at it. She still eats eggs. She prefers scrambled with cheese.

12. If they were an actual character in an animated film or TV series, who would they be voiced by? Do they have a certain accent that the person would need to perfect? —// I think Tessa Thompson would be good. Or maybe Kiersey Clemons.

13. If you are an artist, and if your OC can draw as well, could you replicate what their artstyle looks like? Or, if you can’t, could you describe it? —// Lots of rounded edges. Very fluid. Precise when she needs to be.

14. If your OC owned a Tumblr blog, what kind of content would they post? —// GAY STUFF™ —// She’d be complaining about Supercorp not being canon. She’d love Wynonna Earp. Van Helsing. Grey’s Anatomy. How to Get Away With Murder. Scandal. The Bold Type. Chasing Life. Sweet/Vicious. —// She’d reblog a lot of hot women. —// Poetry. Mostly others’ but she’d post her own sometimes too. She might even have a sideblog she uses to post her writings about Marilynn. —// Cool photography. Drawings. Art in general.

15. How do they type? Do they use emojis? Do abbreviate and shorten words? —// She’s a fast typist. She begrudgingly used emojis at first but then falls in love with them. 🤷🏼‍♀️ —// When texting Marilynn she’ll shorten things. But on her blog she’s mostly longhand everything. Usually just when she gets excited will she resort to things like “v sexy” or “btw” or something…?

16. If your OC was a film director, what kind of movies would they make? —// Gay ones. Lesbian indie romances. LGBTQ in general. —// She’d use lots of flowy imagery and close ups. Lingering scenery shots. —// She’d also want to direct sci-fi/fantasy.

17. If your OC was a musical artist, what genres would they do? —// She’d probably play bedroom pop? Indie? I can see her playing acoustic guitar and singing. Maybe ukulele, keyboard, drums?

18. What type of singing voice does your OC have? —// Sultry. Soft. A bit scratchy. She has trouble with really high notes, but she mostly sings in whispers anyway.

19. Does your OC like to collect things? What kind of things do they collect? —// She has tons of pictures of her and Marilynn from over the years. She has some on her vanity and the rest in a photo album. —// She also collects little things she finds when traveling somewhere with Marilynn. Seashells, rocks, twigs, leaves, feathers, coins, other miscellaneous stuff people dropped like playing cards or dice or something.

20. Was your OC inspired by anything? Another character? A person? —// Yeah, she was originally inspired by my friend (crush at the time) Molly. Rebecca was originally a tall blonde just like Molly. Wlw like Molly (she’s bi though). Vocal. Social-minded. Nice. Beautiful. Smart.

[cristinacori]

For my endless journey westwards I have the seat number 6 in the wagon number 0 of the worst-platzkart ever. Just one working plug, which is located on the bed under mine, so that anyone who wants to load some electronic devices has to do it on the head of the poor man who sleeps there. Empty drinking water tap: we must drink the boiling samovar water, which would not be so annoying if it were not that air conditioning is faulty and the wagon is terribly warm.

The provodnitsa of the night shift is a brusque, short and chubby woman, of those who, as they say in Rome “it’s easier to jump than to go around”. The other one is a gentle skinny lady flame haired. Together they seem Stan and Oliver, but at least the fellow travellers are interesting. Below my bed there are a old couple. He, Vova, has black moustache, grey eyes made heavier by the age, huge round fingers and he is covered in tattoos. She, Valya, has short cut hair and her face streaked with slight wrinkles, she is a cheerful woman and she has nervous chatter. They are directed to Moscow, they speak only Russian and they virtually adopt me. The train leaves and the lady pulls out tablecloth, metal cups and plastic containers filled with everything imaginable food. They offer a bit of their dinner Valya tucks in my soup freeze-dried pieces of smoked ham and without asking me anything, she peels boiled eggs and hands me the bread. I think I must have awakened her maternal instincts, she wants to feed me at all costs. Maybe I stink with my skinny vegetarian sandwiches and Korean soups from the discount supermarket.

They tell me many things (who knows what) and call me “Kristin”. I ask them, in my weird Russian, where they are from. They come from a place that is not a city, but a tongue twister, though I pretend to have understood; anyway I have no choice because they will continue to talk to me as if I really could understand what they say, asking me questions they expect me to answer.

The following day the heat does not let up, and the people in the wagon fan themselves, dripping with sweat, with everything that falls into their hands. To survive the heat, the Uzbek of the seat number 12 begins to open all the windows of the wagon, including the one on my bed. He supports it with a plastic bottle filled with kvas (a Russian drink made from fermented black bread) to make sure that it does not close and he has decided it must stay there. So I have to sleep with the bottle at the side of the pillow. The idea of the open windows is good for the day, but not for the night. At sunset, the cold air of the Siberian nights enters through the window like a sharp blade and lash my face mercilessly. I curl up as much as possible in the cotton blanket, but I can’t get to sleep so I get up at dawn when the whole car is still sleeping. I prepare my tea and I drink watching the landscape in motion. It is raining outside. The dense wiry birch forest is covered with a rosy morning mist through which the sun shines in a dance in which chases the train, appearing and disappearing among the white tree trunks.

We skirt for a long time a large muddy river on which a graceful mist hangs like a long nebulous snake concealing its banks. After few hours the landscape changes and the train makes its way through dark valleys still shrouded in mist and meadows covered with tall flowers of a bright pink. The rain continues to tap on the glass only disturbed by the passage in the corridor of a fat provodnitsa whose flesh barely stays inside the shirt. The upbeat music coming out of the basket of snacks she is pushing announces her presence. “Pirojki, kartochki…” she loudly proposes passing through the wagon. The Uzbek of the seat number 12 makes a joke, she plays along and gives him a playful slap. Everyone laughs, he must have said something funny.

Not speaking Russian is one of the things I regret, I think watching them laugh. If I had been able I would chatted with my fellow travellers, with the provodnitsa. Who knows how many stories I missed, how many anecdotes and opinions on this or that topic. Why so much they, the Russians, always have something to say, they are a people of great talkers. I find it hard to imagine them the way Kapuscinsky describes them the USSR times. The Polish reporter (who also travelled in the Trans-Siberian) writes of them that they remained silent, distrustful, they avoided to speak and hoped that no one performed questions.

It was another era, shaped by suspicion towards each other, by the fear of uttering too many words, to sound curious. All dangerous characteristics at the time.

“The foundations of the Soviet empire have always been the regime of terror and fear. Only perestroika and glasnost’ constitute a significant departure. People are starting to publicly express his opinions to have their own ideas, to criticize and to ask. This becomes an exaltation, a general drunkenness […] everywhere do nothing but talk, talk and talk. […] This verbal superabundance, that talkative oratory is favoured by the Russian language, phrasing from that large, lying, boundless like the Russian land”.

The third day of travel some young Russian soldiers get on the train. They are teens guys who are doing the canonical year of conscription. Among them myself, the bizarre italianka, am a note from the pack and within five minutes they all are making me questions. Where am I from? Do I speak Russian? What am I doing in Siberia? Am I really travelling alone? And they start making pictures of me. Everyone wants souvenir selfies with this being that comes from the exotic faraway Rome. This “young Russian army” does not travel alone: it is accompanied by a non commissioned officer who looks like the same age of the boys he is responsible for. Talking to them I discover that the conscription in Russia is mandatory. Every boy at the age of eighteen must pay a year in the army. They were lucky, Sergej tells me, the only one who speaks few words of English, up to 2008 the years of conscription were two. He smiles at me and he offers me an apple.

The following day the Russian army gets off in Krasnoyarsk and new travelling mates get on the train. Among the newcomers there are six girls, contemporary dance dancers. One of them is specialized in hip hop. They make me look some videos on their phones and even if I do not understand anything about dance, they seem to be really good. I was told that they travel to Ekaterinburg where they have an appointment at the US consulate to pick up a visa to go to California where they will participate in a popular dance competition. They are a bit worried, Ekaterina, one of them says. The US visa is not mere bureaucracy for Russian citizens: the girls will first have to undergo an interview with the console. Those among them who are not married are more anxious because the US government does not look kindly on the Russian unmarried women; the cliché has it that the Eastern European girls use to lure American men to get married in order to to obtain the US citizenship.

A few hundred kilometres after Novosibirsk, the capital of Western Siberia, we arrive at the station of Barabinsk. The passengers before leaving the car, consult the table affixed to the provodnitsas’compartment door, which shows the time spent at each station. In this way those who want to get off to buy something to eat, or just to stretch their legs or to smoke, know for how long time the train will be stopped before leaving again. Ekaterina invites me to come down with her friends, she wants to show me the itinerant fishmongers of smoked dry fish waiting passengers on the platform. Apparently this fish is a speciality in high demand as everyone rushes to buy this delicacy with enthusiasm. We walk up and down the platform to look at our travel companions carefully choose their dinner, and a merchant of fur hats furry tries in vain to convince me to do a deal by buying one. It’s time to climb aboard and all people happy with their food purchases, get on train. In the wagon now an air unbreathable hovers: a mixture of smoked fish and musty smell united to that of about twenty people who haven’t had a shower for days. You get used and, in the end, the fish is tasty. The blonde lady of the seat number 22 makes me taste it. She is going to Moscow to visit her grandchildren. The woman on her fifties is from Norilsk, a Siberian town far to the north, where summers last a month and winters, endless, record a temperature that is about -35°C. Ekaterina translates the lady tales for me, while she makes the fish into small pieces. She is amused to see my face in disbelief. At her eyes me, the italianka tourist, am a strange being that comes from the tropics.

Six-day journey by train: my journey from Vladivostok to Yekaterinburg For my endless journey westwards I have the seat number 6 in the wagon number 0 of the worst-platzkart ever.

[thegrassisaalwaysgreener]

EuroTrip 2016

Friday March 11, 2016:

         Yay for trips! I was pretty pumped about this trip as I had only been to Europe once and that was over ten years ago. For this trip, I was teaming up with my aunt who is a retired teacher and had been  going on trips with EF Tours for years. Accompanying us was one of her ex students’ siblings who was excited to head to Europe with us. I decided that it was much easier to just park and fly my car (which is magical). I flew and met them in Montreal before boarding the longer flight to Frankfurt. I am all about sleeping on planes normally, however this plane ride was not the best as I was sitting beside someone who thought that sharing my seat was ok. Even with the squish-y ness and turbulence, it was a decent flight and we arrived first things on Saturday Morning.

Saturday March 12, 2016            It took us a while to find our lovely guide Nik. He was to be our guide for the whole trip however, he had to wait around the airport for the group joining us from Vancouver. We hopped in a bus and got on with the 2 ish hour drive to Rothenberg. Of course we got to drive a bit on the Autobahn (which in a van wasn’t nearly as cool as I had thought) and through lights that went from red to yellow and then green which I found so strange. We arrive in the quant town of Gattsattal where we were staying for the night. We unpacked our bags and headed into town to see the historical, medieval town. Rothenberg is known as Germany’s Fairy Tale Dream town and is located on a plateau just over the Tauber river. We checked out many of the picturesque sites including the Gallos Gate, Town Wall (which is elevated around the city and has a walkway almost the whole way around the town), St. James Church, The Christmas Museum (which was magical), Historical Vaults of the 30 years war and of course Plonlein. Plonlein is the classic photo of Rotherberg and is seen in many books and post cards. We really enjoyed wandering around the small, adorable town. We enjoyed greek food (random) at the Taverna Marathon and Schnaeballen- which is a delicious dessert along with coffee before making our way back to our hotel. We met up with the group from Vancouver and had an amazing traditional German dinner of Spätzle and beef. We were all super tired and jet lagged so we went to bed early to get ready for Munich!

Sunday March 13th, 2016             Rise and shine was early this am! We grabbed a very European breakfast of buns, meat and cheese before hoping on the bus for the 2ish hour drive , south to Dachau. Dachau was the first Nazi concentration camp in Germany. It was said to be a “work camp” originally where political prisoners were to be housed as early as 1933. It is believed that over 25,000 prisoners died from illness or suicide and over 32,000 were killed. The camp saw as many as 200,000 prisoners. We did a walking tour of the property which was very challenging to see. There was also a 20 minute video in the museum that was very graphic. The museum houses memorials, barracks as well as the old gas chamber and crematorium. The various religious memorials are visited by thousands of people each year as well.            After the enlightening visit to Dachau, we made our way to Munich.  Munich is the third most populous city in Germany (behind Berlin and Hamburg of course) and is know for its beautiful, century old buildings and of course Octoberfest. We started our day in Munich by wandering around the stunning English Gardens. The first thing we saw were people surfing on an arm of the Isar River at one of the entrances of the Gardens. It was magical! It was so cold but they have one area where the river makes a 1 metre wave that many locals come and surf  on. I was freezing just watching them! As we wandered around the English Garden, we learned more about it’s history (how it used to be hunting ground for the royal family until the late 18th century when it was opened to the public).  We visited the Theatiner Church where there was a large pre St. Patrick’s day Festival going on. We caught a glimps of City Hall as well as the Cathedral Church of our Lady (Frauenkirche). This Cathedral is a landmark in the city and is known as the symbol of the Bavarian Capitol. It stands at 99m tall which makes it the tallest building in the city centre and has the infamous “Devil’s Footstep”. We wandered around the city square (Middlespaz) and had a small lunch as we wandered. Unfortunately, much of the shops and more touristy things were closed as it was Sunday.  One super cool thing that we did see in the Marienplatz was the Glockenspiel (google it, it’s cool). We did manage to check out the three known “Tours” as well as the magical Hopfbrauhaus. While we didn’t stop in for a beer, we did enjoy all of the excitement and festivities inside.  We had a lovely dinner at franziskaner in der au, just outside the city centre of sauerkraut type salad, pork and pasta before heading back to the econtel for the night.

Monday March 14th, 2016              I was super excited about the plan for today! We were driving to Neuschwanstein Castle! Neuschwanstein is a nineteenth-century Romanesque Revival palace approx. 1.6 km walk uphill in the village of Hohenschwangau. The castle was designed by King ludwig the second. He had designed it and lived in another castle (Holschwangow) on the property while it was being built (for almost 13 years). King Ludwig was a complex man who enjoyed Wagner (which was listened to Valkyrie on the way to the castle), literature and fine woodwork. There are various stories of his bizarre behaviour, “different” interests (homosexual tendencies which were not accepted at that time) among other things. He was declared insane and admitted to a hospital where he was found dead in the river only 2 days after admission. He had gone for a walk with his doctor and was found in knee deep water, with no water in his lungs. His death was rather mysterious and unfortunate, as he never go to see his masterpiece of a castle fully built. The castle itself sees 1.5 million visitors a day. It is massive and magical- especially the Throne room with its 2000 lb chandelier made out of fake gem stones and 1.5 million stone floor that illustrates plant and animal life. The walls and ceilings are also very interesting with paintings of Jesus and 6 canonized kings. The tour itself wasn’t anything to write home about and was not overly informative. It was definitely a magical place to visit and the views in and around the castle were worth the steep hike.

             After the castle, we watched Sophie School (great movie) as we headed back into Munich for a guided bus tour of the city by our guide Barbara. She gave us the background of the city (which I won’t bore you with but is quite interesting as Munich is considered a “young” city for Europe and much of it was destroyed in WW2 and rebuilt). We drove past many important/interesting landmarks including the House of Kunz Art (german art that Hilter built), many universities (which are free in Germany) including the one that Sophie School went to, the Olympic Park (of the 1972 Olympics) and many other iconic streets/parks. Munich is a very fast growing city becauose of its high quality of living. There are many parks, lakes and mountains in the area along with lots of jobs which means the cost of living is increasing by approx. 5-10% each year. It is much cheaper to rent than to buy in the city and there are many young families living in 900 sq. feet and paying approx. 1500-2000 euro a month (crazy!). We stopped at one of my favourite places of the trip and that was the Nyphenburg Palace. Again, I won’t bore you with the details but it was the summer residence of the former rulers of Bavaria of the House of Wittelsbach. It is now a series of museums and has beautiful grounds to wander and explore. We had dinner at a former monastery turned Brewery called the Augustine. We had a very traditional dinner of beet, bratwurst and potato salad with their home made apple fritter for dessert. We continued the tour of Munich after dinner by seeing the Hofbrauhaus at night along with the Opera House that was one of the first in the 17th Century. The Opera House has been rebuilt multiple times after varies fires/wars and features approximately 300 shows per year.   We headed back to the hotel for a good nights sleep before another exciting day!

Tuesday March 15th, 2016            Today we would be driving through 3 different countries! We left Germany and passed through the Town of Garmish. Garmish is small town, much older than Munich on the trade route known for its ski hills and Winter Games. We headed through Germany and made our way into Austria. We learned that there are not borders in Europe which is pretty neat. Everyone in the EU may come and go as they please and may live/work whenever they would like.  We were heading into Innsbruck for the afternoon. Austria itself, is known for its delicious meat. Austria is home to approximately 8.4 million people and its main industry is tourism (24 million a year approximately) but its scenery is like none other. 60% of the country is covered in mountains who’s peaks are almost 4000m high. The biggest palace in Europe can also be found in Austria- in Innsbruck and was home to the Royal Family (who’s monarchy ended in 1918). We spent a few hours exploring Innsbruck. We visited much of the old town (which is quite small) and saw some tourist landmarks such as the Golden Roof House built by Maximilian, The Innsbruck city tower, and of course, the Swarovski Flag Ship Store. We saw many old, medieval type buildings along with some beautiful churches. Other than the beautiful mountains, St. Jacob’s church was my favourite building- it had a beautiful marble alter with large lit up cross and massive black organ. We hopped back in the bus and took the Brenner Pass through the amazing alps. The Brenner pas was originally used by the tribes men many years ago and is still known as an important trade route between Austria and Italy. It was a magical drive through the mountains with many old castles and places to stay. We made our way south to our hotel which was just outside of Venice near Treviso. The hotel (Park hotel villa fiorita) was so tacky and Italian- I just loved it!! We got settled into our rooms (where we would be staying for two nights) and then made our way down to the dining room for a traditional dinner. The dining room was very Roman inspired with beautiful (but strange) paintings all over the walls. Our dinner of pasta, turkey, veggies and apple crumble was delicious! I was super excited to hit the hay this night as Venice was one of the cities I was most excited to visit.

Wednesday March 16th, 2016            As always, breakfast was early (but delicious with the classic euro spread along with pancakes and croissants for the carbs lovers out there) but worth it to hop on the bus to head down to Venice. Nik gave us a brief history lesson on the country (including The Kingdom of Italy being found in 1861, the end of the Monarchy in 1919 along with the Black Chapter that was Moussilini’s take over in the 1922). I really do enjoy learning about all of the history- I make all of these half ass attempts at typing it all out as he is talking and then make short forms that a year later, I don’t understand. Ah well! That is what google is for isn’t it? ANYWAYS. Venice! So exciting. Venice is a unesco World Heritage site but has seen its fair share of destruction and sadness, including floods and plagues (also the starting point of mask where and carnival somehow). Venice is actually made up of 117 small islands  that are separated by many canals and linked by bridges. They are located in the Venetian lagoon which is an enclosed bay that is found between the Po and Piave Rivers. There are approximately 265,000 people that live in Venice, 55,000 who live in the historical city part.  Once we arrived at the port, we took a 20 min boat ride over where we watched a glass blowing demonstration- which is super Venetian. There are about 35 companies in Venice that make glass but only a handful that do it by hand. The glass (Moreno) is beautiful, made out of sand, salt and colours that are created by other minerals.             After the glass blowing demonstration and some shopping (of course), we had a walking tour with our guide Alysio. He explained much more of the cities history and pointed out a few beautiful landmarks. He also took us on a tour of the Doge’s Palace (Palazzo Ducale) which was very beautiful. It was originally build in the 1300s and then rebuilt in the 1500s. There is a massive, golden staircase because, more was always better in the Venetian world. Each wall had something on it- gold, paint, murals, mosaics etc- no wall caould be empty.  We came out of the Palace in St. Marc’s Square (Piazza San Marco) which is a landmark in the city. It has many restaurants, shops and famous places within the square. We visited St. Marc’s Basilica which is said to actually house the remains of St Marc below the alter. The  Basilica is quite dark but still very beautiful with many old features. We wandered around the city of Venice- getting lost in all the small walkways, canals and bridges. It was magical! We hopped on a gondola as well and took a beautiful ride in and around the city through the canals. We checked out many of the high end shops (all of the designers were found in Piazza San Marco) and also did some bartering for souvenirs and such. The Rialto bridge was sadly under construction, but we still managed to get a few great photos and see some of the stores that can be found on and around the bridge. We stopped for some traditional food (the most amazing pizza, cannoli AND gelati) before grabbing some vino on route to the boat back to the bus.  Dinner was back at the hotel – pasta of course with some veggies, beef and of course rum cake for dessert. My aunt and I wandered around the hotel- they had an interesting Hemingway exhibition and bar in the basemen which was rather odd in my opinion.  The mix of the music/bar seen with the hemingway info lead to some pretty bizarre dreams that night that’s for sure!

Thursday, March 17th, 2017            This morning we headed on the Brenner Pass to Verona- which funny enough cost about $35 since all of the highways in Italy are toll routes. The highways are privately, not state owned so the rate per highway can change which is neat. In Germany, the highways are free, in Switzerland, you pay for a pass each year and in Austria, you can pay for a week, month or year (similar to the 407). I was very excited today because it was 15 degrees and sunny!! We were headed 2 hours from Treviso to Verona which is a very old city, approx. 100 years BC. Verona is heavily fortified, especially around the river and is also a Heritage UNESCO site due to its Roman Empire/Medieval/Renaissance architecture and preserved monuments and squares. One of our first stops was the Arena of Verona (their version of the Coliseum) which is about 80 years older than the Coliseum. (making it almost 1186 years old!!!) At this time, there is only one wing left of it as an earthquake ruined ¾ of it in 1117. We stopped to visit Romeo and Juliet’s house (sadly not the real one) as well as Juliet’s Balcony (which is very popular place to visit). I was very impressed with Verona- it has beautiful landscapes of not only greenery and a beautiful river, but amazing mountains and old, maintained architecture.  We stopped by the market which had amazing fresh fruit, vegetables and sandwiches near the Ponte Pietra. We checked out the Cathedral Di Verona before hopping on the bus to drive from Verona to Switzerland.

        Our drive through the alps was magical! We drove through  Como which is an amazing area (George Clooney has a house there which we saw!) along with Lugano which is very Swiss meets Mediterrean. Of course, Nik gave us our daily history lesson on Switzerland and including some interesting facts. Switzerland, is one of the safest places in the world. All of the entrances can be closed (literally with a bomb to close it physically) if there was any concern for the Swiss’ safety. Since Switzerland is a very “neutral” place, politically, I don’t think they would have many issues.  We heard many interesting folklores and fables about the country during our drive (which I won’t bore you with). We made it to the town of Giswil(population 300) which is just outside of Lucerne. Dinner was soup, salad and a meatloaf-esque burger with traditional fries and gravy (haha) It was an early to bed tonight – other than my early morning wake up call to facetime with the lovely Jess so I wouldn’t miss the Open announcement!

Friday March 18, 2016:          My aunt and I decided to get up a bit early to wander around the quaint town. It was a bit chilly but we enjoyed the rolling hills of the area and the beautiful fresh air. After showers and a basic European breakfast (meat, cheese and bread of course), we hopped on the bus for Lucerne. The first stop with the famous Lion Monument which was created for the Swiss guard who died in 1792 in defence of King Louis XVI, his fine Marie Antoinette and their kids. The Swiss guard is known for their loyalty and this monument is a sign of strength, power and loyalty. The monument is actually much cooler than I had anticipated as it is carved into a larger rock/mountain side. We had plenty of time to wander around the magical mountain city and check out Lake Lucerne which can be seen from almost everywhere in the city. We saw the glacier gardens, Friti Fountain, Chapel Bridge, Water tower and did some hiking on the fortification wall to check out the view from a higher vantage point.  We enjoyed some delicious (and expensive!) Swiss Chocolate and learned about the various historical events that had taken place in the city. We met up with the grup at the Schwanplatz (city centre) and headed back to the hotel for dinner (salad with random curry chicken and ice cream) before settling in for our last day of the tour.

Saturday March 19, 2016:            Today we were going to visit the largest waterfalls in Europe!! I was pretty stoked about this since I expected them to be similar to Niagara Falls. While the Rhine Falls are beautiful (they truly are) they are nothing in Comparison to Niagara Falls. The Rhine Falls go back to the last ice age about 2000 years ago and are 23 meters tall and 150 meters wide and found in the town of Schwafassen. We got some great photos before heading back on the bus to take the drive through the Black Forest. The Black forest got its name from the narrow trees that make is very very dark and brings out lots of legends and myths. The Grimm brothers wrote all of their stories based on the Black Forest and there are many stories about trolls, dwarfs and other mythical creatures. We made our way to the Hofgut Sternen – a family run shop where they make cuckoo-clocks which was actually a lot more interesting than I had thought. We saw one of (if not the) largest cuckoo clocks and then saw an informative demonstration about how the clocks worked. The cuckoo is made out of wood and cotton and is basically the music box, mechanism (from Switzerland) and the cuckoo. They are all the same here in Black Forest except for the design in which there are 120 different types of clocks that all tell a story. I didn’t realize how intricate and different they could all be! We enjoyed some delicious Black Forest Cake before jumping back on the bus to head north to Heidelberg.             Heidelberg is the oldest university town in Germany and the second oldest in all of Europe. It is known for its literature and philosophy along with its castle- Schloss Heidelberg. We went and saw the castle ruins (and saw a random fox on a leash..) while enjoying some pretzels and checking out the worlds largest wine barrel (heaven!). The town was super cute and was filled with old buildings, small streets and even the longest pedestrian walkway in Germany.  Nik told us a lot about the extensive history of the city (the good and the bad) and we stopped into a few other small museums and stores. The one thing I didn’t get to do that I would’ve loved to have tried in the city was the Furnicular (basically a gondola) but the line was super long and we wanted to explore more- ah well! There is always next time!             We made it to the hotel Exelsior around 7 and wandered around it for while. It was very modern from the outside but had many touches of its old charm. The lobby was super cute and inviting. The bathrooms were super retro but really big and fitting for the hotel. We had an amazing buffet dinner of zucchini boats, rice. wedges and schnitzel which was all delicious along with fruit and pudding for dessert. We ended the evening as a big group talking about our favourite part of the trip and then singing Oh Canada which was pretty special. Everyone hugged good bye (and exchanged social media accounts of course) before heading to bed for the flights home.

Sunday March 20th, 2016           Sadly, I was the first one to leave in the am as my flight was the earliest. Originally the company wanted all of us (meaning the three of us) going to Ontario to go to the airport at the same time but that sounded just silly! Nik called me a cab at 0600 and had a great spread for breakfast to go ready for me. The drive to the Frankfurt airport was about 45 with little traffic and I managed to learn a bit more about the area from the cab driver. My flight home was just under 8 hours and was average with plenty of movie options and snacks. All in all, this was a great mini EuroTrip. While I have many other places I would like to visit (and maybe even return to) it gave me a taste of the continent and made me eager to see more! Until next time!