#Did I half bake all the lore in two days? Yes. Yes I did- why would I not? Of course I would-

[genericpuff]

Lore Olympus just pulled off the biggest whiff in webtoon history.

I promised I would choose one of two headlines and of course, this is the one we wound up with. But should we really be surprised? Rachel herself seemed to be telling on herself down to the minutes leading up to the finale, fully confirming to us that yes, she's been writing this comic at the last minute, by the seat of her pants, for ages now.

(that second one was literally posted TWENTY FUCKING MINUTES BEFORE THE COMIC UPDATED.)

Welp, let's get into it. Possibly the last essay I'll ever write about this dumpster fire of a comic (but probably not, let's be real LOL)

CONTENT WARNING: DISCUSSION OF SEXUAL ASSAULT AND FASTPASS SPOILERS FOR THE SERIES FINALE AHEAD!

Holy crap, where to even start with this. I knew it was going to be bad. I knew it was going to be rushed. I knew it wasn't ever going to live up to what I had hoped it would be years ago when I was still a diehard fan.

But I didn't think it was going to fall quite this hard. Despite bracing myself for the worst, Rachel has once again let my expectations down through a final display of explosive mediocrity and disappointment.

Yes, the episode is called "You're Welcome", and yes, that instant "ick" you're feeling is the exact same as what we're all feeling. This title plays into the dialogue later, but what a shitty, lowkey mean-spirited title for the series finale.

Now, before we get into the actual episode, the WT ads for this are just... so desperate and misleading.

They are trying SO HARD to hype up something that isn't there, and at the last minute to boot, because Rachel definitely hadn't written any of this ahead of time.

First off, the bit about the gods being in "eternal chaos" of course isn't a stake worth worrying over because Gaia literally does away with Ouranos in the first 5 panels.

Did you really think I was joking about that 5 panels thing?

That's it. That's the death of Ouranos. As mysteriously and quickly as he arrived, he was gone, after Gaia ripped out of him what appeared to be some purple sunny side up - but it's actually, in fact, Apollo.

And that's when we start to get some of the worst dialogue I've ever seen throughout LO. Remember when I said LO's dialogue was like Shenmue 3? Welp, the finale decided to continue that tradition and further fuel the suspicion that this entire thing was written by ChatGPT.

Oh, by the way, that "thank you, ma'am" was Artemis' first and last line of the episode. So once again, just like in Episode 248, we're completely robbed of her reaction to Apollo being a rapist piece of shit and the character development she could have had as a supporting character. The women in this "feminist retelling" really couldn't be more half-baked.

Gaia stumbles upon Persephone, and I'm not even gonna fucking bother showing the panels where Gaia says it's time to "make things right" because they literally don't matter. Why don't they matter? Because Rachel just had to get in one more pointless time skip.

We're shown a sequence of pointless images that I'm not gonna show as I don't want to waste my image limit on them, depicting Hades having a sad day because his small wife isn't with him and oh nooo what could have happened?? Did Persephone finally divorce him ??

Nah, we couldn't possibly have an actually happy ending in this comic. Instead we get a completely pointless phone conversation between Hades and Hecate-

Not only is the grammar particularly bad in this episode, but the actual script-writing is atrocious. We literally did not need this phone conversation to happen because-

-we're cutting BACK TO THE PRESENT THAT WE JUST CUT AWAY FROM FOR A 3 MONTH TIME SKIP. FOR NO REASON BESIDES SHOWING HADES BE SAD OVER SOMETHING THAT ACTUALLY ISN'T THAT BIG A DEAL, AS YOU'RE ABOUT TO SEE.

I- I LITERALLY HAVE NO WORDS. I HAVE NO WORDS TO DESCRIBE WHAT THE FUCK THIS IS. ALL I CAN HEAR IN MY BRAIN IS THE LEGEND OF ZELDA ITEM GET MUSIC-

-BECAUSE THIS WHOLE THING SUDDENLY SOUNDS LIKE SOME CONTRIVED FETCH QUEST. WHAT DO YOU MEAN HADES AND PERSEPHONE HAVE PROVEN 'TRUE LOVE' IS REAL? WHAT DO YOU MEAN THEY HAVEN'T USED 'LOVE' AS A FORCE FOR DESTRUCTION?? ARE WE FORGETTING THAT HADES MUTILATED A GUY IN THE NAME OF 'LOVE'? THAT PERSEPHONE LITERALLY INVADED THE HOME OF HADES' CANONICAL FIRST WIFE BECAUSE SHE FELT MILDLY THREATENED BY HER?

This whole concept of "true love" that Rachel is trying to convey feels so juvenile especially for a series that has sold itself as being mature and thought-provoking and progressive.

HAHAHA SO FUNNYYYYYYY why does Rachel write like this. this is, at best, the writing of a 13 year old on fanfiction.net, which I SHOULD KNOW, because I WAS ONE OF THEM. BUT I'M 28 NOW AND RACHEL HAS ANOTHER 10 YEARS ON ME.

Okay, this is the part where I'm CONVINCED Rachel either just mashed this into the episode in the MINUTES leading up to its release, or she used ChatGPT or something. Because NONE of this dialogue makes any sense. Beyond how stilted and lifeless it is (seriously, this dialogue reads like something from Empress Theresa) Gaia is clearly meant to 'replace' Erebus here which I SHOULDN'T HAVE TO EVEN EXPLAIN IS SO FUCKING DUMB, but ALSO what is even Persephone trying to communicate here? "That is true, but it was a deal I was willing to make and ties me to the Underworld. Please don't change me." What? Gaia hasn't even insinuated that she's going to do anything to Persephone, why is Persephone immediately jumping to this conclusion? What does 'changing' her mean? Is she asking Gaia not to force her to sacrifice something (which she never did)? Or is she asking Gaia not to strip her of her Underworld status? Because again, why is that even something Gaia would do?

Maybe this is harsh but I'm pretty sure even Empress Theresa is more coherent than this, what in the flying fuck is Gaia talking about?

"I can just see the potential for conflict! To relieve you from the burden of the whats, the hows, and wheres." Like... okay, first of all, that second sentence isn't even a complete sentence, it's a dependent clause left hanging, but also what the fuck does this MEAN. Is she EXCITED for the conflict but then contradicting herself by saying she wants to relieve Persephone of that conflict? Or is she saying she can see the conflict it would cause for Persephone to have to perform duties in both realms and trying to insinuate that she's going to relieve her of those complications?

Here's what I think happened - I think that second 'sentence' wasn't supposed to be a sentence, but the start of the sentence to the next panel-

So with that theory in mind, the sentence becomes, "To relieve you from the burden of the whats, the hows, and wheres, you are to spend three months in the Mortal Realm to do spring and the rest of the year in the Underworld. That seems fair to me."

It's still a very poorly written line of dialogue, but at least with that fix in mind it makes sense. But man, you can really fucking tell this episode was submitted at the last minute because that's a serious syntax error that should NOT have happened in this two-time-Eisner-winning comic.

Errors aside, it's clear that Rachel is following through on having Persephone spend only three months in the Mortal Realm, rather than the traditional six. There ARE other translations that have that number closer to four, but those four are the time she spends in the UNDERWORLD, meaning she's always spending either equal or MORE time in the Mortal Realm. Of course, Rachel doesn't want her self-insert small wife power fantasy to actually have to be separated from Hades despite this being a retelling of The Abduction of Persephone, so instead of her spending three months in the Underworld, she's now spending them in the Mortal Realm, literally doubling the MINIMUM amount of time (four months) she was originally meant to reside in the Underworld.

But oh no, apparently those three months are STILL NOT SHORT ENOUGH FOR PERSEPHONE-

Of course, Rachel "Retcon" Smythe had to have her cake and eat it too. I always worried something like this was a possibility, but I never thought she would actually prove me right - not only is Persephone only separated from Hades for three months out of the year, but actually he can visit her any time he wants to, so really, they're not separating at all.

I think Rachel needs to look up "reunion" in the dictionary, because if you can visit each other any time, then that means the 'reunions' are no longer special occasions. This completely removes any semblance of depth or meaning from all of the storytelling leading up to this, all of it with the expectation that this was a retelling of the Abduction of Persephone, because that's what Rachel said it was going to be. At this point it's safe to say that Rachel has zero business attempting to "retell" mythological stories, because she doesn't even seem to grasp the concept of why they were written the way they were to begin with. Either that, or she really just doesn't care, and the only reason for making LO a Greek myth comic at all was to propel her career.

This also brings me back to those promotional ads, the other one that posed the question, "Will sacrifice be enough to bring these two back together?"

This is stating the obvious, but I need to make it perfectly clear - Hades and Persephone have never sacrificed a single thing. The only thing they could POSSIBLY quantify as a "sacrifice" is "not being tied at the hip for a few hours", because even Persephone going on the equivalent of a work trip next door is apparently enough to make Hades sad as we saw in the 3 month time skip panels. Why is Hades so sad and lonely if he can visit her any time? Why is he acting like he hasn't seen her in years when he's actually on his way to reunite with her? Why is Hecate calling to ask him if he's "okay" as if he JUST got separated from her, but actually he's about to literally go to the Mortal Realm to reunite with her?

Hades hasn't 'sacrificed' a damn thing, neither has Persephone. They've both always gotten exactly what they wanted, even at the cost of breaking the story's own established rules. Their 'sacrifice' is equivalent to what billionaires think are 'sacrifices' when they can't buy another yacht or go on that third overseas vacation for the month.

And even outside of this episode, when have these two ever sacrificed anything?

I've tried so hard to think of what sacrifices have been made by the characters within LO, and I genuinely can only think of one - and that was when Artemis chose to go to the Mortal Realm with Persephone instead of staying with her family in Olympus. That was a genuine, selfless sacrifice, made by a character who has been shelved in favor of focusing on the self-centered pink and blue airheads.

Being forced to be apart for a couple days to do the equivalent of a day job and whining about it the whole time is not a 'sacrifice'. Neither of these characters have ever sacrificed anything, they just feel like sacrifices because they have the integrity and empathy of soggy cardboard.

sigh Anyways, we're back in the present and Hades and Persephone immediately decide they're gonna have sex because ofc, and then we get this gem of a panel-

MMMMMM

FUNNYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY JOKE

For some reason it's just a common thing for people to just be in Hades' home, and they can't seem to get any privacy as a result of this, but I digress. Turns out they still need to have that coronation for Persephone.

There is... so much wrong in these three panels.

First, to state the immediate issues - why the fuck are they mentioning Apollo at Persephone's coronation? Like first of all, no shit Apollo isn't gonna be there, but also, if this is supposed to be an event for and about Persephone becoming Queen of the Underworld, then why in the WORLD is Apollo even being mentioned? This is supposed to be a "feminist retelling" where the victims are empowered and heal from their trauma, but LO once again can't try to show any sort of positive growth for the victims without bringing up the assaulters and giving them screen time. It just goes to show that Rachel's idea of "healing" is purely rooted in the revenge, and not the growth. It's a very high schooler approach to this subject, hellbent on showcasing how all the meanies from the past are losers now and life just sucked for them forever, but inadvertently proving its own point that the victims haven't and can't move on because the narrative is spending so much time on caring what's going on with the abusers. It's the "I don't care! Look at how little I care! I'll prove it to you by putting in the effort of showing you how little I care!" approach, it doesn't really feel like moving on.

It's not about how Persephone and his other victims could have grown and healed, no, Rachel always needs to highlight just how much worse the bullies and haters and abusers are doing to make the victims seem like they've healed by comparison. Don't get me wrong, I can understand wanting to showcase the downfall of a character like Apollo, but this just... isn't the right context for that? Because it's once again taking attention away from the victim to focus on the abuser. It's once again spending screentime on the voices of the oppressors rather than the oppressed.

And speaking of, what the fuck is this punishment even? I knew Rachel wasn't gonna be able to resolve this plotline properly, she never had the capability to, but ... community service? Are you fucking for real? What is this even a punishment for even? Was this EXCLUSIVELY the SA, or does this ALSO include his attempts to overthrow Zeus by poisoning him, nearly killing Daphne, Eris, Eros and Psyche, trapping Eros and Psyche in an enchanted basement, and framing his father's 'death' on his half-sister? Because if so, how in the world is anyone content with community service? He hasn't even been turned into a mortal, HE'S STILL A GOD, so what's to stop him from going "WE'LL MEET AGAIN, SPIDERMAN" and trying something else? How is this a reasonable resolution in ANY context?

This is why I talked at length about what an issue it was to hide what Apollo really admitted to. Because now we really don't know what exactly he confessed to, and thus we can never really see the point of views of the victims outside of just Persephone - and we still don't even get Persephone's, because she just walks away from him and then he gets eaten by Ouranos and next we see of him is him doing community service! Once again, any emotional development that could be given to Persephone and the other victims is stripped away to make room for the point of views of the oppressive men. In this, the two-time-Eisner-winning "feminist comic" that is LO.

And that brings us to the "where are they now" segment. Yes, as we all feared, there's a "where are they now" segment, and it's as rushed and underwhelming as we ought to have expected it to be.

There is just... so much to unpack here, and yes, all of it is delivered in the dumbest way possible that only raises more questions than answers.

So Rhea and Metis are just back and we're not gonna talk about the implications of them being alive again?

Dionysus is a 3 month year old in the body of a teenager / young adult, and his mom is just alive now because Hades conveniently got his hands on more ambrosia and brought her back to life offscreen? But somehow Triptomelus and Hedone are still child-sized relative to their ages?

How did they 'heal Zeus'? And why is he so content with losing his power as King and Apollo being sentenced to community service after making an attempt on his life? How does he feel about the letter that Hera gave him? Did he even read it?

Where the fuck is Hebe in all of this? Is she okay? Do people still think it was her who put Zeus in a coma? Or did Apollo confess to that, too?

You're telling me Hera and Echo are just in a relationship now despite the fact that Hera is literally racist towards nymphs and there is ZERO reason for them to have a relationship in the comic beyond the fans making gratuitous headcanons out of it? How is Rachel, a bisexual woman, so bad at writing actual lesbian relationships and giving them the same amount of attention as the heterocis ones without shoving them into the background as props for insincere queer rep? And what about Hera herself? How did she overcome her role as the Goddess of Marriage to finally divorce Zeus?

"Ares is still a dog!" Haha! Ares is still a Persephone simp! Happy end!

Why is Eros just standing there smiling at the camera struggling to be seen past Hedone who's just floating right in front of him? You're telling me there wasn't a better place to put her out of that entire panel?

"Hades and Thanatos have been making more time for each other. Sometimes they even have a conversation." I'm sorry, is this supposed to be funny? The man abused Thanatos for years, treated him as just a lowly employee when he was literally his adopted son, and now you're trying to play it off as a joke that they're "making more time for each other"? What the fuck is this?

TGOEM disbanded? Why? What about the women who were genuinely a part of it?

Also, Artemis and Selene are just good friends now because reasons? Because they're both affiliated with the moon, I guess? Why is Selene even in this comic-

"They are still looking for Kassandra". Who? And why? This feels like such a last minute addition to acknowledge a character that the comic spent WEEKS foreshadowing only to have her finally appear as a pointless McGuffin, but it's so last minute that it does nothing. I'm assuming it's Eros and Psyche looking for her, but like... why can't they find her? They're gods, tracking down one mortal shouldn't be that difficult LOL ???

And also, where the fuck is Leto?? You're telling me she was an accessory - maybe manipulating Apollo, maybe not - but we don't see what happened to her? Is she just back to being a social outcast then? jesus christ this comic isn't finished-

Kassandra is where the "where are they now" sequence ends, and we're treated to one final horribly written dialogue scene between Hades and Persephone, where they tell each other how much they love each other in a desperate attempt to convince the audience that this is, in fact, a romance.

There's this thing in romances called chemistry, and if you're good at writing it, you shouldn't have to write dialogue like this. You should be able to see how much the characters love each other through their actions, through their small behaviors around each other. It's not always about what they say out loud, it's about what they don't have to say, because when two people really share that close of a bond based on love and trust and chemistry, words often aren't necessary.

Hades and Persephone do not have that chemistry. It has been apparent for years now, but this final exchange really is the nail in the coffin. There are no microexpressions or subtle emotions, no subtlety in their word choice, and nothing unique setting their voices apart. It's all just "wow thank you for being such a wonderful amazing partner, you are amazing and I love you" word salad that has to do all the heavy lifting for the completely non-existent chemistry that's been at its absolute worst throughout this entire season.

And worst of all, despite this story trying so hard to be focused around Persephone, around her story, her trauma and her healing, her voice... it's still all just about Hades. In the end, she's thanking Hades, and forcing him to say "you're welcome". All of it is trying so hard to convince us that Hades has been a positive addition to her life, that she 'owes' so much to him, but we've obviously seen plenty throughout the comic that begs to differ. And even if he were a better person than he is, it still doesn't change the fact that once again, the men are being held up above the women, with the women being grateful to the men who choose them. LO can try its hardest to convince people that it's feminist, but it is, at best, reinforcing the very same structures of the patriarchal system that it claims to despise and rebel against.

We do get one line from Hades acknowledging Persephone's part in the relationship-

-and it falls so fucking flat because it's still about him and what she does for him, and because nothing about their relationship was built on any sort of organic chemistry. There was a lot more chemistry back in S1, but it was still predicated on Hades lusting after a vulnerable 19 year old girl.

Yep, and that's it. That's the end.

Except it isn't because Rachel wanted to try and be smart by including an 'epilogue' that's really just stretching the episode out pointlessly for another few panels. And of course, we had to get another time skip, just a final dose of salt in the wound, this time to years ahead when we inevitably had to reconnect with Persephone and Hades in the future after Melinoe was born.

To recap, Melinoe doesn't remember... because Hades had Morpheus erase her memories.

This plotline has really started to give me the ick because it actually feels very familiar. Bear with me here, because I'm gonna go on a bit of a tangent about my own original work, but it's because I wrote a plotline exactly like this years ago.

There's this... turning point, in Time Gate: Reaper, when the main character Uzuki is kidnapped by a Reaper (see: undead) who wants to experiment on her in the hopes that he can somehow gain her abilities to bond her soul with others (which later allows her to literally possess people after she becomes a Reaper herself). Mitsuhiro, the male deuteragonist who kickstarts the plot by telling Uzuki she's got a limited amount of time left to live (which he knows thanks to his magical death timers that mark themselves on his skin), feels an immense amount of guilt after finding out she was kidnapped by the Reapers (at this point she's been gone for three months), as they were originally after him; he worries that she was made a target simply due to him associating himself with her, and vows to rescue her.

With the help of some other spunky teenagers and anime trope characters, Mitsuhiro does eventually rescue Uzuki - but for the three months she had been gone, she had been tortured, abused, and experimented on, causing her mind to split and for her to lose any sense of awareness of who Mitsuhiro or her other friends were. She was no longer herself after the hell she had been through.

Mitsuhiro's solution to this is to have Springlock - another Reaper with motivations that are not yet clear to the cast - erase her memory. This is not a light decision that comes without consequences - for the remaining duration of the story, Uzuki is plagued by night terrors and panic attacks, unable to really remember what happened to her aside from whatever brief flashbacks her brain recalls in its haze of memory loss. She is traumatized, both physically and mentally. She has lost three months of her life and memories, and doesn't know how to explain why she's covered in scars that are still healing, why she's missing organs, why she's now blind in one eye, and why the sound of scraping metal and ticking clocks gives her panic attacks. Mitsuhiro has convinced her friends that she's suffering from memory loss due to trauma, but only he knows the truth that he forcefully took her memories away from her, without her consent. This was not the right choice to make. It was not noble of him, it was not a grand gesture of love, he made a decision on her behalf without her consent that has now resulted in her becoming a nervous wreck. Sure, she still would have had PTSD if she remembered what happened, but at least she would know why and could then seek adequate help. Without those memories, she has nowhere to begin to heal. And so we see the consequences of this throughout [AFTERBIRTH] and even the upcoming Thread of Fate. It is a long-term problem that is not going to be solved overnight, especially not with Mitsuhiro withholding information from her.

Reading about Melinoe having dreams about her experiences trapped in Tartarus with Kronos ... it felt familiar enough that I had to talk about why the insinuations of this are so fucked up. I know there are people who are gonna handwave it away as "she's just a kid", "these are gods so what does it matter", etc. but ... it just feels like such an oversight to have Hades effectively erase her memory of her trauma and then hint at them still being present in her mind through her dreams. She did not ask for that. And the fact that she's now dreaming about it all does not bode well. But we're supposed to think Hades made the correct choice, regardless.

But none of this is effectively expanded on or explained, because we get one final scene of Melinoe and Demeter visiting Persephone, who has just given birth to... Makaria?

So it turns out Persephone and Hades are just able to have biological children now. Don't know why, but of course they both look exactly like Hades.

What I was really confused by though is the fact that it's Makaria and not Brimos. Do you remember Brimos? The child that was foreshadowed in Hades' original fantasy dream sequence about his future children about Persephone?

Either Rachel completely forgot about him, or she saw all the criticism over the fact that Brimos isn't a confirmed child of Hades and Persephone (rather, an epithet that can apply to basically any Underworld god including Persephone and Hades) and that her "research" was dependent on a book she read when she was 13 and decided to axe that. But she went to the effort of establishing that all the dreams Hades had were , in fact, canon visions of the future, so good job Rachel, you created yet another plothole on top of the hundreds of others.

And that's where the series ends, on a final nuclear-family-photo of Persephone, Hades, Melinoe, and Makaria. Of course, Dionysus and Thanatos aren't present in this shot because this is Lore Olympus and only biological children count /hj

Why Rachel couldn't move the "the end" portion to THIS part, I don't know, but I'm also expecting way too much of the person who finished this 20 minutes before it was due.

So that's it. Six years and that's what we get. I didn't expect much, but I was still incredibly disappointed, as were many others who walked away from this dazed and confused. Maybe it's all the "haters" deserve at this point. But what of the fans? While many of them are celebrating this ending at best and tolerating it at worst, I can't help but think of the fans of this comic who hung on for so long in the hopes it would "pay off", just for it to go out as gloriously as a wet fart.

As for me, I have such mixed feelings about Lore Olympus ending, but none of them pertain to the comic itself. Most of what I'll miss from this comic isn't the comic itself, but the people who have made reading it every week so fun, the artists and writers who have enriched the content with their own interpretations of what could have been, and the experiences of being part of such an amazing community made up of people who are as long-term-obsessed about this piece of media as I am.

I get people who ask me a lot if it's "worth it" to be so engrossed in the LO slander, who assume that I'm going to "regret" ever being a part of it all... but from where I'm standing right now, I couldn't ask for a better view.

Even if I didn't love every minute of it, everything I have here I owe to this comic. This stupid, wonderful, boring, amazing, pile of shit comic.

[irana5711]

small idea about college student reader who's pissed off at how easily scaramouche/wanderer got into the akademiya (yes it is going to be x reader if I get around to finishing it). !! warning I haven't played genshin in a really long time, can't remember like half of the lore but it's fine, it's hatguy!!

Getting to study in the Akademiya is no easy feat, that's for sure. Years of hard work and straining your eyes trying to study at night, day after day of trying to understand the intricacies of history and political problems across the years, of trying to remember dates and names and whatnot. All of that, just for HIM to get in so easily. No exam? Not even an essay? NOTHING?!

You resented him. You were not afraid to show it, either. Always giving him a stink eye when he got late to his lectures. Pointing out even the smallest mistakes in his paper every time you got the chance (sometimes even making it up just to piss him off). And he did the same. You just couldn't wrap your head around it - how did he do it? Why was he even there, given the fact that he always acted as if it was the worst place in Teyvat? His smirk and his snarky, foul comments made your stomach turn. So, in an attempt to make you cooperate and stop going for each other's throats, Nahida paired you up for a project. Quite simple, really: talk about the reign of Decarabian and speculate what he could have done to protect his title. I mean, it WOULD have been simple if it weren't for your adorable little classmate. Hatguy wouldn't have anything from you. He never liked anything you wrote, and for such petty reasons as well: 'Your writing is unintelligible. Who do you think is going to understand this? It looks like an ancient dialect.' or 'The paper you used for this is too brittle. I could ruin it just by staring at it for too long. Are you stupid?' Or that one time you served him freshly baked cookies, and he spat one right out! How rude!

Neither of you had time to dwell on those issues much longer, though, as the deadline was approaching quickly. Just three days left, and you barely wrote a two page sketch. Out of desperation, you decided to take the advice of your friends: a glass of firewater, and you'll get going in no time! Except, you got carried away, and by 2 in the afternoon, you were dizzy and disoriented. But you did (somehow) get a decent amount of work done. Good job! You were delighted as you put the half empty bottle back on the shelf, behind some bowls and cups, yet it all ended when you heard an angry knock on the door. You weren't expecting any guests, so who...?

[moondyad]

sometimes i scroll all the way over to that "news" section on my phone and see random articles recommended to me by google. today i was met with this article:

(you don't have to read it or give it any traction, it doesn't deserve that. it's simply here for context)

confused by the title, i was hooked into reading it. but the conclusion was simply, "My Lady Jane almost got as many renewal signatures as The Acolyte got, so the fans who did sign the petition are a vocal minority." and then went on to say this:

and i went "oh". these questions told me everything i needed to know about the author, he was a cis white guy. i scrolled to the end and sure enough, i was right. it really pisses me off when people are so entitled that they think something is just for them and should never branch out into appealing to other demographics. watching a cis white man protagonist in a movie or series never bothered me, why does it bother a cis white man when that situation is reversed, unless it comes down to bigotry?

forgotten what they are? the original trilogy was anti-war messaging and influenced heavily by a Japanese film, The Hidden Fortress. like frankly, shut the hell up. i'm so sorry that you got 7 (the new one making it 8) movies and ~7 series where a protagonist was a cis man who you could relate to. why is it so wrong to have media be "something for everyone" without the implicit reason being to alienate poc, lgbtq, or other minorities from your fandom.

yes, there is this almost weird corporate pandering where minorities get shoved in a role to be the "token", we generally don't like that shit either. we don't want half-baked representation. having a black woman protagonist just... being on the screen, is not "woke" corporate pandering!! what do you do if you pass a black woman on the street? scream, cry, throw a fit? i'm sorry to tell you that people exist?

i know this fandom is full of older white men, but i am continually surprised by the general narrow-mindedness and lack of media literacy that is so prevalent among them. when they willfully ignore the more progressive messaging of the original movies, it's like the alt-right manosphere space using The Matrix as a "stop being a societal sheep" metaphor when the directors and writers of the movie were two trans women who intended for the movie to be a metaphor for transformation. i won't say transness explicitly, because both of them were closeted at the time of making it and admit they only knew how to depict that in the form of their character, Switch, who was a trans allegory.

i for one was left with more questions than answers at the end of The Acolyte. i am a very lore-focused individual and tend to dissect things with the culmination of the information i know. but i did not hate the show. the characterization didn't have enough time to breathe for decisions to have felt earned, and just in general the pacing was quite fast. the newer concepts like heavily grey characters and Osha/Mae being the same person were very exciting to me, and i had hoped to learn more about Qimir in the next season. now i'll never get that chance.

if criticisms of the show stuck to the fast pacing or plot holes, we wouldn't be having this discussion. i like to think that one day these older fans will recognize the irony of their stances, but it might just be wishful thinking.

[jellazticious]

Doodle dump with Michel, the Engineer he thinks look cute, and their entire team

Little ramble of his backstory under the cut because I love Michel

So I will be telling this in shit post form. Sorry tumblr folks, my decent writing is for discord only snndxn

So Michel turned into that because the team Medic had a magnificent idea. Like one night he watched NatGeo and it happened to be how mischievous octopus are and he thought "lmao, what if Spy does that......

...

WHAT IF SPY DOES THAT"

So yeah, he went to their Spy and went "you want to naturally become invisible without a watch?? And also make your bones like memory foam so you can squeeze through tight spaces??"

"you son of a bitch I'm in"

And so Medic like stole an octopus from an aquarium nearby and like took samples from it to make this serum he injects on Michel.

But like the effects kicks in slowly and hypothetically it would last a month.

Both Medic and Spy agreed to spam Uber on Spy to see if it boosts the serum since it kinda does stuff to your bloodstream. I dunno, it's Uber.

Three Ubers in and he can slightly control his camouflage, on like the eight time, he can completely change his skin to match the surroundings on command, is extremely flexible and they tried if he can squeeze through a closed window and he did. It's disgusting but he did

BUT IT DIDN'T STOP THERE

Yes, he got some desired effects from rushing it but one month is one month. He's gonna get more from the serum whether he likes it or now.

How did he get the tentacles? Easy. Constantly being respawned. It's just like getting ubered but stronger since it rearranges the entire body rather than only affecting skin and blood.

One month after, he turned into THAT

.

.

.

Now that's out of the way, I'm gonna explain the doodles badly

.

.

The topmost doodles were the first doodles of Michel actually being a character. His gills are hella strong unlike regular fish gills that dies to a single grip. They're attached to his lungs so that's why smoke comes out of it. They're also extremely ticklish because yes-

Just don't shove your hand in it ffs, good lord, why would you do that-

The second one is a joke (*in the same cadence as "Dinkleberg"* Sussuri) because I'm pretty shit at anatomy in general

The ones under it are me showing off his squishiness. And messing around because of course I'd add that.

Then the painkillers one is because he grew two extra hearts and like he doesn't want them, it makes him feel icky thinking about it. It also feels weird when you're being active and you feel three heartbeats. Euughh, I wouldn't want that too. Yeah if you're gonna take off organs as vital as a heart while keeping the patient alive, you've want to douse them in painkillers while the operation takes like at least a day probably. He didn't get scars, they heal at an alarming rate

The next ones are mostly his Engie. His name is Sal (no last name yet) and he's newly transferred to the team. He's a rambler too. Michel being a listener finds that quite endearing.

Okay I can explain why he has legs. It's a disguise but it came from a specialized kit made by the Medic and the other Engineer. It was made to last for long periods of time and its harder to fade, it also does not disappear when the wearer attacks. However, it only has one guise and that's Michel pre-tentaspy

They totally did not prepare that because they know something will go wrong, nope, no siree! Guarantee!

My boy gained a bitch in the span of one day but the disguise had to fail because of course it would. Sal, like any rational person would, freaked out and tells the team, to which they all replied with "yeah he's an octopus" like it's a normal occurrence (technically it is to them) without any context.

It's okay, Medic told him exactly what happened

Also ignore how badly designed the entire team is, it took me *checks watch* 30 minutes while I was running on homemade chai latte. I did not look at actual cosmetics, I just slapped in what I remember. They cannot exist in game sbnddn

The two Pyros are the only ones with names (excluding Michel and Sal)

Dion (stock Pyro) and Mantha (kitty Pyro)

Also the Medic and Sniper here are together if that isn't already obvious sndndn

.

Aye dont worry, Michel and Sal winds up together because I'm a chronic Engiespy shipper and of course they would

One last thing I'd like to add is that I gave Michel my beauty marks (two moles on the chin and one on the nose)

[internalsealpanic]

An Eternity of Lovers will Make Us No Wiser

summary: Hal gives Kyle the brilliant idea of proposing to you with his pelt. This is actually a good idea if A) it didn’t come from Hal; B) it wasn’t half-baked; C) Kyle remembered a very crucial detail. a/n: I am back with my Selkie bullshit. Happy mermay folks! Selkie husbands are very cute and if you do not know the lore for selkies, here is a quick read. If you are new here, yes, I do in fact give my readers homework for a lot of my fics.  warnings: I write Kyle like a shojo protag, he is kind of dumb in this, Reader kind of has a defined personality and work. Misunderstandings. 

Kyle Rayner is kind of dumb. 

 Well, no. 

 Maybe. 

 Just a little bit. 

 Ok, he is. Kyle is dumb precisely because he listens to Hal. 

 No, there are several reasons, but currently, that's what's making him act stupid. 

 Aside from the usual reason—you. 

 It’s been approximately 2 weeks, 4 days, 5 hours, and 45 minutes since Kyle started on his quest. Hal had suggested it as a joke but Kyle... well, he liked the idea a little too much and thought it was romantic, and here he is 2 weeks in and utterly frustrated. 

 He's been leaving his pelt for you to find everywhere in your shared apartment. With your love of aggressive cleaning, Kyle thought it would take 30 minutes and he'd be sweeping you in his arms. But no, Kyle has watched you squint at his pelt, flex your fingers, then move on for two freaking weeks. 

 Should he just write you a note? 

 Would you prefer a human proposal?

 Could he afford a ring? How big do you want the diamond? Did he even have money in his bank account? 

 Kyle flattens his face against the countertop, brain overheating from the speed of his thoughts. 

You stare in bewilderment as Kyle checks his bank account, face squished against the aged linoleum of your countertop. It's not weird for people to check their bank accounts. It's weird for Kyle to check his. He isn't a broke art student anymore, but old habits die hard. 

 Speaking of old habits.

 You glare at the green hoodie hanging off of your laptop. You have half a mind to fling the thing into the trash but you know Kyle is attached to the stupid thing so you use your coat hanger to fling it at your still mopey boyfriend. 

 It lands with a barely audible thwap to his face. You may or may not preen. It was a solid hit after all and your hand-eye coordination isn't exactly something to write home about. The smack of his jacket seems to shake Kyle from whatever mental rabbit hole he's flung himself into.

 He looks up from beneath the jacket, eyes big and liquid and inhuman. Pulling your laptop to your chest, you rub your eyes not entirely sure your eyes are working properly. Kyle sets the hoodie aside, dragging himself towards you in a sluggish motion. When he reaches you, he leans his entire weight on you nearly toppling you both over onto the floor. 

 "Kyle!" you hiss, shoving him lightly. Kyle doesn't budge, simply wrapping his arms around you and dramatically groaning into your hair. It's only through your sheer stubbornness that you two don't fall to the floor. 

 "Jus' lemme hug yooooouuu," he says, putting even more weight on you. Why does his love language have to involve crushing you under his weight and being a dramatic little shit? 

 Truth was Kyle just really liked being snuggled up against you whenever he was in a mood. You're always just so soft and huggable even when you're hissing at him.

 "Nooooo," he mumbles into your hair. He lets his eyes slide shut, loving the feeling of you in his arms. He leans into your more, huffing into your hair. "You're too huggable, my body can't move away."

 "Yes, you can, you big goof," you laugh as he maneuvers you against the fridge. The resulting movement tips your balance and you end up smacking against the fridge. You both wince from the sound. Kyle kisses your forehead. You shake your head grumbling about it being the wrong spot. 

 "Is it this one?" Kyle asks, kissing your cheek. "How about this one," your other cheek, "this one," your jaw, "this one?" He plants a kiss on your neck. 

 You giggle, kissing his lips. "That one."

 "I see," he hums, kissing your lips. His soft lips meld against your, they feel warm and perfect against yours and you can't help but smile against his lips.

 "Better?" 

 "I might need one more," you say, placing your finger against his lips.

 "Your wish is my command," he says, nudging his nose against yours and leaning in for another quick peck.

 "Now, I think I'll survive," you laugh against his lips, the reverberations of your laughter making Kyle’s chest flutter. You're too cute for Kyle to resist giving you a kiss to your eyelid. 

 "Am I forgiven?"

 "No."

 Kyle gives you those big green eyes.  You narrow your own at him.  Somehow making his eyes shinier, he wobbles his bottom lip for effect.  Your resolve crumbles. This man, the love of your life, is the actual worst.  He actually sucks.

 "Fiiiiine," you whine, shoving at him lightly, not really hard enough to move him just enough to satiate your irritation.

 Kyle croons happily, seemingly content with your answer. Rolling your eyes, you try to fight off a smile. "Now, get off of me. I need to go to the store and you," you say, poking his chest, "need to work on that piece for... what was it?" You glance at the half-finished illustration on the countertop. Kyle blocks your view. "We could just get take out and do other things," he says with a waggle of his eyebrows. You huff laughter into his shoulder.

 "Sounds lovely but I do actually need to go." You pat his cheek. He pouts, sighs then lets you through. You push your laptop into his hands. He obliges sighing.

 "Oh yeah," you say over your shoulder, "please don't leave your stuff laying around."

 Kyle rolls around in the tub, the water splishing in the tiled floor as his round body moves. He flattens his head on the edge of the tub and closes his eyes. He tries to on the way the water skates over his sleek fur, but his thoughts are buzzing. 

   Maybe he was doing this all wrong. 

 He rolls again then boops his snoot against the edge of the tub contemplatively. How should he do this.

 Aaaaaah, why is this so hard? 

 He submerged himself underwater, blowing bubbles through his snout in hopes of an idea surfacing. How should he make it more obvious? He can't exactly just ask you to hand him his pelt. Would it count if he did that? Damn it. He should ask John later. He sighs. 

 As Kyle continues to mull over his dilemma, you enter the bathroom, skin sticky from the summer heat. It was sundown but somehow it was still so humid and gross outside. You have no clue how Kyle can wear hoodies these days. Now that you think about it. You've never actually seen him wear the damn thing. You can ask him about that later. All you want to do is soak. 

 You pull back the shower curtain and when you open your eyes, a pair of liquid eyes stare at you. You stare back. Your head is still on the subject of bath bombs, so it has to strain to accommodate the aquatic mammal residing in your bathtub. 

 You reach out, poking it with your finger then recoil when your finger causes the seal's head to smoosh into its body. Its nose feels wet like a dogs, and it only takes you about three seconds to calmly walk away, grumbling about animal control.

 This is somehow Guy's fault. You just know it. 

 Kyle makes frantic plopping noises as he trails after you. You look over your shoulder, brows bunching up as the seal plodding behind you. You watch as its body ripples as it bounces towards you with urgency. The little guy croons pleadingly to get your attention as if anything else could catch your attention right now. 

 What's the protocol for this? Should you be scared? Should you get to a higher ground? You've read somewhere or maybe you watched a documentary with Kyle about seals being friendly to humans. Maybe that applies to this little guy. You really shouldn't be testing your luck but there you are standing still to face the seal. You do remember this is a predator, right? Don't let the cute smooshed face distract you.

 The seal stops in front of you, shifting its weight on its front flippers nervously. Your thoughts stammer. "I can't-- You--" You felt ridiculous talking to a seal at full height. You try crouching down, better but your knees started to ache, so you let yourself sit cross-legged. "How did you even get in here?" you ask, rubbing his face. 

 Kyle chirps happily and slaps his tail against the floor. When you try to pull your hand away, he stretches his neck to chase the touch then trills when you place your hands back on his face.

 You bite back a squeal. You can see why Kyle is obsessed with drawing seals. They're so cute. "You’re so lovely," you say, booping his nose. Kyle slaps his tail faster and spills half of his blubbery body onto your lap.

 Kyle smooshes his face against your thigh, wiggling his tail, satisfied that he'd successfully distracted you from calling animal control. You hum as Kyle flattens under your touch, muscles keeping his body from liquifying coming loose and turning him into a happy puddle in your lap. 

 He looks up at you with big eyes one of your hands pulls away from him. There's this wrankled look on your face that tells him you're sending Guy a strongly worded text with a very thin attempt at diplomacy. He nudges you with his snout and the sour look in your face immediately melts into adoration as you pull his little face up to yours to boop his nose.

 You look into those big eyes, familiarity itching in the back of your mind.  "You remind me of someone I like," you say, nuzzling the seal.

 Kyle perks up.

 You pull away from the seal.  "He’s a total dork," you say and the seal snuffs in reply, spraying you with a little bit of bathwater.  "But he’s pretty ok really." The seal seems to accept this, laying its head back down on your lap. He seems to still be a little huffy about the dork comment though. It's cute how the little guy is offended on behalf of your very dorky boyfriend. 

 You stroke its back. "He's really sweet too."

 Kyle perks up again.

 The seal is looking at you with wide eyes, urging you to keep talking. You laugh a little amused by his investment in your boyfriend. "There was one time I told him I really like ducks, I think, and the dork spent all night doodling ducks just to leave one of them on my side table so I can wake up to it." Warmth flutters around in your chest as you recount the events. You were tired from work that day and over take-out, you noticed Kyle was scribbling down designs for an ad that somehow involved ducks. You mentioned about how you used to like feeding ducks when you were a kid. You recalled it fondly along with the one time you'd had a row of baby ducklings pester you for food. It was all honestly a haze but that morning you woke up to a doodle of baby ducks asking for food and Kyle with eye bags the length of Route 66. He's such a dork.

 Speaking of which, where was your dork?

 You crane your neck to look for him. He didn't have anything to do today, aside from his illustration.

 You ring Kyle only to hear his Crazy Frog ringtone blaring from the kitchen. Frowning, you look at the seal. "Do you know where my Kyle is?"

 The seal looks up at you and thumps his chest. Kyle's not sure whether his ribs are rattling because of the motion or because you'd called him 'your Kyle.' Ugh, you're too adorable. He can't stand it.

 You tilt your head. "You ate him?"

 Kyle shakes his head. He thumps his fin harder against his chest. 

 Your brows scrunch up. "What are you trying to tell me— oh." It hits you at that exact moment that the seal seemed to comprehend your words. Some cosmic things start to float around in your brain as your uptake starts to speed up. Kyle always told you that you were like a computer with too many files. You're pretty smart but incredibly slow on the uptake. "Oh my god," you gasp, putting your hand over your mouth, "Kyle?"

 Kyle claps excitedly. 

 "What—" you wave your hand"— What did Guy do?" Kyle snorts. "What is it Wally? Connor? Hal?"

 The fact that you had several suspects in mind is mildly concerning. 

 Kyle motions with his flipper to give him a second. You agree quietly and watch as he plods away from you then turns back to you. 

 One moment Kyle was a seal the next he was a man, your mind skipping a few frames due to incomprehension. The human mind is great at that, glossing over the impossible to keep the possible intact. You stare at Kyle's toned body. Blinking, you try to wrap your mind around it. Here Kyle is in all his naked glory instead of the squishy little seal. You feel a headache coming along.

 "Kyle, I... I don't even know where to start."

 Kyle grins down at you, "my eyes are up here for starters."

 "So are your tits, what's your point?"

 Kyle chuckles, "yeah, well, I’d like you to look at my eyes."

 With effort, you drag your eyes up to meet his. "So... were all your seal illustrations self-portraits?"

 Kyle shakes his head. "I have some of Hal, Guy, John..." you stop paying attention after the tenth name. Your brain is starting to glaze over. 

 After Kyle lists the fiftieth name, you pipe up again,  "how do you-- When were you going to tell me you could do that?! I could have been cuddling a seal this whole time?!"

 Kyle sits cross-legged in front of you. "You’d want to cuddle me as a seal?"

 "You're so squishy and cute," you say, staring at him like he's the dumbest bastard in existence. 

 Kyle narrows his eyes and crosses his arms. "I'm squishy and cute as a human too," he huffs, some of the lingering seal behavior showing on his features. 

 "Less huggable," you say, poking the solid wall of muscle on his chest. 

 "I thought you liked my body," he says with a wiggle of his eyebrows. 

 "Are you gonna tell me how you do that or am I gonna have to conduct some tests?"

 "Babe, I'm not software," he says with a wink. 

 You slap his shoulder. "What are you then?"

 "I'm a selkie."

 You stare at him, not a thousand-yard stare of incomprehension. It was the kind of stare you give him when you were sorting through your catalog of usual responses and don't find anything appropriate, so you're stuck generating a new one. Kyle has induced this reaction enough to know that look. 

 Kyle shifts his weight anxiously waiting for your reaction. 

 You run your hand over your face. "I thought you were an alien. Damn it."

 "Huh?"

 "I'm going to kill Hal. Excuse me," you say standing up and heading for the door. 

 Kyle follows you confused. "(Y/n), what's going on?"

 "Hal and I made a bet on whether you were an alien. I... lost," you explain, fishing the keys out of your key bowl. 

 Kyle stops then shakes his head, staring at you in disbelief. "You thought I was an alien?!"he asks, hand on his hip. 

 "Kind of... maybe... a little... Look, I love you but I find you asleep at the rooftop pool sometimes," you say, rubbing the back of your neck. You tilt your head the other way and say: "well the selkie thing kind of explains that, huh?"

 You turn to look at Kyle whose brain cells have completely fizzled out. 

 "You love me?" he asks, tone too fond to be teasing. It's not often you say 'I love you' verbally. It was just something you left hanging in the air like the sweet smell of rose water.

 You stare at Kyle.  "No, Kyle, I just buy random people expensive art supplies when it's not even their birthday just for fun." You know it looks cheap to other people to put your love into gifts but Kyle understood it and was content with letting you express your love the way you want. He was still extremely happy when you expressed your love explicitly, the sucker for grand romantic gestures that he was. 

 "Yes, you dork, I love you." You bristle under the intensity of his stare, so you quickly pivot to another topic. You glance towards the green hoodie heaped on the floor where the seal was. "So... what's with the jacket?"

 Kyle glances towards it.  "It's my pelt... I was kind of hoping—" realization hits him like a fastball. In hindsight, Hal's suggestion may have been a bad idea. What if you didn't want to be his mate after finding out what he was? He would have trapped you and you would have hated him. You said you would want to cuddle his seal form but being mates is an entirely different story. His stomach hurtles to the ground. "Nevermind."

 "Kyle."

 "It's nothing."

 You take a step towards him.

 "It's nothing I promise."

 You take another step.

 Kyle rocks back, deciding whether to let you reach him. 

 Before Kyle can really decide, you close the gap, wrapping your arms around him and softly pressing him into a wall. 

 "Don't worry about it, baby. It's just stupid. Promise."

 "You're stupid--"

 "Hey!"

 You huff, "and I still love you. Now, please tell me why you've been so mopey."

 "It's--"

 "Please," you murmur into his chest. You press your lips over his heart and Kyle is such a sucker for the move. He sighs and fesses up, burying the words in your hair. "Was trying to get you to pick up my pelt so you could be my mate."

 He patiently waits for the words to sink in. His arms hover around you, scared to put them around you.

 Your forehead crunches up. "So I'm not technically your mate yet?"

 Fighting through his own confusion, Kyle nods his head. 

 "And the pelt makes it official?"

 "It binds us."

 You sigh, "you also see the problem with your plan?"

 He nods looking like a kicked puppy.

 "You're so so dumb. You're so lucky that I think your stupidity is endearing."

 "I'm not that dumb," he scowls. 

 "I know," you huff, " and I’m sorry, but seriously, being a magical seal person sounds like a date 3 kind of thing." You press your cheek into his chest, listening to his heartbeat. 

 "Date 3? " 

 "Date 3," you confirm, pushing off of him, slipping past his arms. You pivot towards your bedroom. You pause by your little living room and Kyle watches in slow motion as you bend down to pick his pelt up. The reaction is instantaneous, a match on gasoline. Power thrums beneath your fingers as you stroke the silky, fur-like cloth. The vibrations travel up hand, wrist, then arm spreading over your body. An overwhelming feeling of being lit up surges through your veins but you don't falter, bunching the hoodie up in your hands. The sensation settles down into a feeling of connection and one-ness with Kyle. You pull the cloth to your chest and look at his shocked expression and for the first time, you're uncertain of whether you did the right thing but that quickly disappears when his face breaks into a smile. 

 You throw the hoodie in his face but this doesn't deter the ten thousand-watt smile taking over his face.

"Get dressed, you're helping me murder Hal."

 Kyle follows you to the bedroom.  "Happily."

 You grin. "Thought you of all people would vouch for him."

 "Let’s just say he put a very dumb idea in my head," Kyle says, pulling you into a side hug. 

 "Yeah, that sounds like Hal."

[what-the-stories-have-foretold]

Mabon Celebration

Oruggio x gn!reader

Autumn Celebration: Wed. 22.09.21 Mabon, Witch Hat Atelier (Harvest celebration)

My Navigation is here.

Warnings: alcohol is mentioned (cider), but that´s about it

Note: Link to the Autumn Festival Masterlist.

Note 2: Guess who put olive oil instead of vegetable oil into their apple pie crust 💀 If I'm lucky, it's not noticable with the filling and everything...

Wordcount: 1k+

You woke up before dawn. Carefully picking up Oruggio´s arm that he had lazily thrown over your body and moving it to rest beside him, you stood up from your shared bed. You left the room in quiet steps. The moment the door had softly closed behind you, you quickly walked down the creaking stairs to go outside. You brought water from the well into the kitchen and prepared a porridge for breakfast. When you finished, the sun had already coloured the sky in orange and red, like autumn leaves carried by the wind. You leaned out of the window and closed your eyes, enjoying the way the smell of breakfast mixed with the smell of corn and forest. Only a few seconds passed, and you could already hear the first pair of feet running through the Atelier.

“Professooor (Y/N)!” Tetia exclaimed, standing at the door, panting, one hand placed on the frame. You turned around, a smile already on your lips.

“Good morning, Tetia.”

Her lips stretched to a bright smile.

“Good morning to you too. Today is finally the day, right?”

“What do you mean?”, the tired, but curious voice of Coco chimed in behind her.

“Good morning, Coco,” you said, moving to set the table.

“You don´t know?” Tetia asked nearly appalled. Coco shook her head. “It´s the autumn equinox, where day and night are the same length. Us witches call it Mabon.”

“It´s like the harvest celebrations in the villages. We thank the summer for what it has brought us,” you explained.

Coco´s eyes lit up.

“A harvest celebration?” she whispered excitedly.

“Yes! Harvest and the coming winter…I can´t believe you didn´t know this with how much you read…” Tetia added.

“Well, I want to pass my next test as soon as possible, so it´s not exactly a priority on my list.”

“But it should be, after all, traditions and their meanings are just as important as creating a spell. Understanding where specific spells came from and why they are important.” The girls turned around and you looked up to nod at Quiffrey. “And knowing (Y/N), I´m certain we will be doing something magnificent today.” He said, clapping his hands.

You laughed:

“You know, this is actually your job.”

But before Quiffrey could answer you already found yourself in front of two girls looking at you with big eyes.

“Really? Did you plan something? What did you plan?”

“First breakfast,” yawned Oruggio walking into the kitchen, with Riche and Agethe trailing behind him.

After porridge, which had been filled with Tetia´s excited chatter and Coco´s questions, you stood up to put everything away.

“I thought it would be a nice idea to visit an apple orchard,” you finally announced and Coco and Tetia immediately sat up in excitement, their attention now fully on you. You looked over to Oruggio who used their inattentiveness to, at last, flee their incessant questions. “And after that you four can make apple juice, while I prepare dinner in the evening.”

“What about your apple cider?” Quiffrey asked, with hope in his eyes. You nodded.

“Yes, I will make that too, but now-“ you clapped your hands, “I want you all to get ready so we can leave in about fifteen minutes.” The moment you had finished the sentence, Tetia and Coco were up and gone.

The sweet scent of apples welcomed you in the garden of autumn dreams. Immediately, Tetia had taken Riche by the hand and dragged her away, holding her own basket tightly in her hand. Riche followed rather languidly, but she could not fully conceal the excitement in her eyes. For a while Coco stood awkwardly next to Agethe, until the dark-haired girl sighed dramatically and walked off as well. After motioning Coco to follow her, you realised that Quiffrey had disappeared between the trees too. You turned your head to smile at Oruggio who had been half leaning on an apple tree until now. For a second, his lips twitched to show you a gentle smile and he walked up behind you to encase you in a hug. He nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, groaning.

“Can we just stay here?"

“I need to make sure we have enough apples though, or do you not want any cider?”

He sighed into your shoulder, squeezing you for a second then letting you go, leaving only his arm to lazily rest around your waist.

You returned to the Atelier in the afternoon. As the girls were outside with Quiffrey, finding leaves and acorns to decorate the house with, you began preparing the last bits for the day. The apple pie was already baking in the oven, with leaves made of dough adorning it, and the dish, yellow and red from pumpkins, carrots and potatoes, was cooking on the stove. Sweet chestnuts were roasting over a little fire that Oruggio created a few steps away from you, the both of you simply basking in the comfort of the holiday. Soon the smell of fall filled the entire house.

Freshly baked bread already stood on the table when the girls came back, ornaments in their hair as well as decoration in their arms to place them around the kitchen. With the table now bedecked with cones and acorns, you placed the pot of mashed goods in the middle, steaming and of the colour of autumn. You had placed the apple pie on the windowsill to cool, so that it could be eaten soon after dinner.

Dusk fell red and warm. The days would now become progressively colder and darker. You sighed as you put away the dishes. Oruggio was hugging you from behind as you both listened to Quiffrey tell the girls a story of old lore in the next room. When the night was finally dark, and the girls had bid you a goodnight, Oruggio hummed into your neck, telling you to hurry up so you could go to bed as well. And as you settled into the beige sheets of your bed, locked between the arms of your love, his chest pressing against your back and his soft snores caressing your neck (he always fell asleep upon hitting the mattress), you smiled. Scooting closer, you too were welcomed by an autumn dream.

[luna-redamancy]

Obsession {Thranduil x F! Reader}

Authors note: So, this is a more happy-ending version of my Thranduil fic ‘Crazy’. It is nearly three times as long and my best fic yet (in my opinion). Note: I am writing a part two that will have smut if anybody is interested in that.

Warnings: Yandere themes, obsession, nothing too crazy

Word Count: 3043

Part Two (Smut)

The sun spilled over the tree branches, golden light highlighting a halo around her head. The aged book made her hands look so delicate and small as she read page after page, her mind far from reality as she delved deep into old lore. She was perfect. Thranduil stared with infatuated eyes, his chin propped up on his hand as he watched from a few trees away from her. Her features were ethereal, it seemed impossible for her to be human, but Thranduil knew she was sadly so. 

He watched as her concentration was broken, the change in her eyes as she drifted back into reality, confusion overtaking her features. Listening closely, his eyebrows furrowed as he heard several females walking down the path, their high pitched cackles filling him with disdain as he watched her slowly rise. 

“She’s such a bore!” The taller one groaned, holding her arms over her head to cool off from the sun’s heat. 

“She never wants to do anything, she only wants to stay at home and read her books.” 

Her expression changed from excited to confusion, hurt lacing over her features as she rested her head on the thick oak’s trunk. 

“I don’t see why you both keep trying to invite her out then,” The smaller one spoke to the other two girls, huffing her hair out of her face. “You only asked her to be your friend so you could possibly court her brother instead,” She reminded, “-And then he died with the rest of his travelling company whilst going to Esgaroth.” 

Biting her lip, she sank back to the ground, clutching her book to her chest. Unshed tears lining her eyes as she processed the conversation she heard. 

“Interesting…” Thranduil mumbled, a smirk forming on his face. “She’s even better than I thought.” 

Thranduil watched as his angel packed up her belongings, her gentle smile now replaced with a narrow frown as she disappeared from his sight.

“Soon my starlight, very soon.” He promised, as if she was upset about having to leave him. 

.

.

.

The market was scuttling, people scurrying from one stall to the next, filling their wooden baskets with produce and trinkets to take home. The air was filled with the smells of sauces and freshly baked goods, the hollars of vendors trying to sell their goods filled your ears as you slipped through the crowd, your empty basket clutched to your chest as you avoided getting trampled over by the crowd. 

Taking a deep breath, you smoothed out your skirt before you approached your favorite vendor, the farmer. 

“Good morning Lady (Name)!” He greeted happily, finishing wrapping up some freshly made cheese. 

“Good morning,” You responded with a small smile, examining the lettuce. “I have a deal going on today, five items for one silver coin.” 

Your eyes widened in shock, “Really?” You questioned as you felt your smile widen as well. “Must’ve had a wondrous harvest then?” You asked as you grabbed lettuce, a tomato, a few carrots, and a stock of celery. 

“Wondrous indeed.” He smiled at you as you passed him the coin from your purse. “Well, may good harvests continue to find you.” You bid your farewell as you move further down the market stalls.

“Oh my…”

“Is that--”

“King Thranduil!” 

The crowd was reduced to gasps, everyone bowing once they saw their king approaching on his mighty elk. A small gasp left your throat as you saw him approach, carefully adjusting your skirt to bow as well. Thranduil held a gentle smile on his face, waving away everyone’s formalities as he dismounted. 

“Now now everyone, no need to get into a fuss,” He teased as he began looking through the stalls, a thoughtful expression on his face as everyone went back to their business. 

“Looking to start a new project?” Old Lady Idra questioned you as you approached her stall, eyeing the silvery blue ball of yarn. “I was thinking of making a new blanket for my bed, the winters have been getting colder and colder,” You explained, looking at her selection. 

“Is that so?” Thranduil’s voice startled you, making you drop the yarn ball you were holding. 

“My apologies, I didn’t mean to startle you.” Thranduil apologized while he picked up the yarn ball, carefully placing it in your hands. 

“Oh no, no need to apologize, My King.” You bowed your head in respect, moving to get out of his way so he could examine Idra’s stall.

“No need to move, I apologize for interrupting. I was concerned when you said the winters are getting colder?” Thranduil frowned slightly when he noticed you wouldn’t look him in the eye. 

Carefully tipping your chin upwards, Thranduil grinned when you finally made eye contact. A blush formed on your cheeks as you smiled back. The smell of him filled your nostrils, his beauty stunning you from being so close. A warm feeling bloomed in your stomach as you two locked eyes. “Ah,” Snapping yourself out of your trance, you nodded, fighting the urge to drop your gaze. “Yes, the winters are getting colder. At least on the northern tip of the kingdom...” You explained carefully, not knowing how the southern half was faring weather wise. 

Nodding Thranduil removed his hand from underneath your chin, fighting the ever growing urge to pull you into his embrace. Your voice rings like a beautiful melody in his ears. “Well, thank you for letting me know. I will arrange for more firewood to be sent up north when winter gets closer.” 

Nodding, you gave him a smile as he stepped away from you, Lady Idra watching with a quirked brow.

“Well… I better get going.” You announced, giving him and Lady Idra a nod, fishing through your purse to pull out a few coins to pay for your yarn. 

Thranduil’s larger hand overshadowed yours however, placing a gold coin on the counter. 

“Have a wonderful day, ladies.” Thranduil dismissed himself, giving you a fond smile, his hand twirling a strand of your hair before he made his exit. 

“What in Valar’s name did you do to catch the King’s eye?” Idra questioned, a knowing smile on her face as you shook your head, a vibrant flush on your face. “I wish I knew,” You laughed softly, holding your basket close to you as you bid her farewell, you too exiting the market.

.

.

.

.

.

The day felt like it went by in a blur, thoughts of Thranduil drowning your being as you rested your head against the wall above your bed. Your knitting needles and yarn being long forgotten. The memory of his smell, his beauty and the intensity of his gaze now burned into your mind.

“Thranduil,” You mumbled, the very mention of his name soaking your tongue like fine wine as your mind wandered, daydreams of a future together blurring your reality. 

“How I wish you were mine,” Your eyes slowly opened, half-lidded as you stared out the window. The kingdom standing proud amongst the trees, a demented sigh leaving your lips as you reached out to press your hand against the cool glass.

---

“King Thranduil,” Thranduil’s advisor knocked softly on his study door, opening it once he received a grunt in response. “You asked to pull all documents pertaining to (Name), of (Father Name)?” 

“Correct.” Thranduil’s advisor knew not to question his reasoning for wanting such documents and handed them to him. “Here they are. Birth records, land deeds, reports, anything and everything that mentions her name.” 

“Thank you, you are dismissed.” 

Searching through the documents, he felt closer to you than ever before. Knowing where you were born, how large your family was, what you did for a living, who you lived with, if you were married. He couldn’t wait to ask you more personal details though, things that aren’t documented.

Did you prefer white wine or red? What books were your favorites, and why? What did you love to do on a rainy morning? Who did you love? 

A coy smirk formed on Thranduil’s face as he sat down the documents. Remembrance of your smile, the blush forming on your rosy cheeks, the lovely sound that is your voice consumed him. Looking out his window, Thranduil imagined what your home looked like in the north, how desperate he was to be by your side at every waking moment. 

“My queen will soon be home, where she belongs.” Thranduil vowed, making servants passing by pause in fear. Fear for the life that would be disrupted as a result of a toxic obsession. 

“Very very soon.” He muttered to himself as he filled a goblet full of a blood red wine. 

That night you were left restless, wanting to lay in bed with your eyes shut as your imagination wandered through crafting scenarios with your beloved. 

As dawn rose you lifted your eyes from their curtain of darkness, watching as hues of dark blue shifted into ones of gold and red, a gorgeous sunrise to soften the blow of reality. 

A frown etched on your face. “He’s a king,” you reminded yourself, “At least you can dream…” You recalled the words of your so called friends only a day ago, “He wouldn’t want such a bore anyways.” 

Fetching your shawl, you covered your shoulders from the cold as you walked down to the kitchen to prepare breakfast. Cutting up your tomatoes, you jolted as you heard the doorbell ring, wincing as you felt your blood rise to the surface of your finger.

Cursing you brought your finger to your mouth. “Coming.” You called out, pulling your shawl tighter around you as you moved to open the door. 

“King Thranduil?” You gasped, pulling your finger out of your mouth. “W-What do I owe the pleasure?” You questioned, realizing just how much of a mess you looked in front of him. “My apologies, I wasn’t expecting anyone…” 

Thranduil had to pause. The way the early morning sun hit your bare collarbones, how your hair was slightly ruffled from sleep and so carefree looking pulled at his heart. Clearing his throat he gave a small smile. “Forgive me for showing up unannounced, I wanted to check to see if you slept alright? Last night was particularly cold and I recalled you saying your blankets were no longer adequate.” 

“Oh!” You shook your head with a smile. “I didn’t get much sleep I’m afraid, but I was plenty warm.”

Thranduil heard every word you spoke, but his attention was now focused on your hand cradled to your chest. “You’re hurt.” 

“Ah, yes… The bell startled me, I was in the middle of preparing breakfast when you arrived, I knicked my finger,” You held up the finger, showing the perfectly rounded bulb of blood on the tip. 

“Oh my… Because of me,” Thranduil surmised, moving to carefully hold your hand in both of his, successfully pushing his way into your home. 

“Oh no, not at all!” You hurried to correct yourself, not wanting him to be upset. 

Instead of responding, Thranduil brought your finger into his mouth, sucking off the blood with a determined look on his face as a blush formed over your cheeks. “Oh my…” You muttered, your heart fluttering in your chest as you gulped. 

“Because I caused your injury, I must atone for your pain… Would you like to join me for breakfast?” Thranduil spoke once he removed your finger from his mouth, concern on his features. 

“You don’t have to do that, King Thranduil, ‘tis no one’s fault but my own.” You smiled, despite your internal self screaming at you for denying his offer. “I wouldn’t want to further interrupt your morning.” 

“I just wanted to help you... I just wanted to be there for you...” Thranduil muttered, dropping your hand, refusing to meet your eyes. 

“I’m sorry, I clearly overstayed my welcome.” Thranduil stood stiff, the rejection of your words seeping into him like knives as he moved to open the door and take his leave.

“No, no, that’s not it at all,” You called out, moving to grasp his hand, tugging him back to you. “You’re a king,” You began to explain yourself, “I’m just a lowly girl, a bore… I don’t deserve to even be in the same room as you, much less deserving of dining with you… Do you see?” Your eyes held sadness as you forced yourself to realize your reality. You were just a lowly girl. No chance to be with a king. No matter how your obsession for him threatened to consume you. 

“You see yourself as lowly?” Thranduil furrowed his brows, his heart pounding at your declaration, his heart hurting at the thought of you thinking so lowly of yourself. “My darling, you are a goddess, a gift from Valar…” Thranduil cupped your cheeks, wiping a tear that you didn’t know had even sprung from your eyes. 

“I know you don’t know me well.. But… I want to tell you I love you until my throat bleeds. I want to hold you close on dark endless nights, make love to you until the sun rises, celebrate feasts of starlight with you until time itself ends.” 

“King Thranduil---”

“Thranduil, just call me by my name my starlight,” Thranduil all but begged, pressing his forehead against yours. 

“T-Thranduil… How long have you felt this way?” Your heart was erratic, your soul howling for joy at the thoughts of your love being requited. 

“Since the moment I laid eyes on you, darling.” 

Instead of responding with words, you responded with action, pulling him closer by the nape of his neck, your lips coming together in a passionate dance. 

“Let me love you?” Thranduil questioned against your lips, relishing in the feel of your skin against his. “Always,” You mumbled in response, pulling away ever so slightly, brushing your noses together as he tugged you closer. 

The past week felt like a blur, after Thranduil confessed his love for you, you two have been inseparable. Your belongings were moved into his castle that evening, and your life changed overnight. 

Going from wearing homemade skirts and dresses to luxuriously made dresses just to your measurements, you felt like a princess in a fairytale. 

“Lady (Name)?” A servant called from outside, worry clear in her voice. “Yes?” You responded after putting on the earrings Thranduil gifted you the first night you stayed in his castle. 

A relieved exhale left her, knowing you lived through another night. It was no secret what their king did to the brides that refused his ‘love,’ nor was it a secret of how brutal their endings were. 

“King Thranduil requests you join him for breakfast.” 

Smiling you brushed your hair with your hands one last time. Excited to know he wanted you to be with him. 

“I’ll be out in a moment, is he in his study?” You questioned, knowing he liked you two to eat outside of prying eyes. 

“Yes m’lady.”

“Wonderful, thank you.” You smiled despite the fact she couldn’t see you, listening to the sounds of her feet pattering down the hall until she was gone.  

Walking down the hall, you smiled at each servant you passed, waving slightly as you maneuvered the twists and turns of the labyrinth of a castle. 

“Thranduil?” You called out, your knuckles rapping softly on the door of his study. The sounds of books falling over within his study made you jump. “Thranduil, are you okay?” You questioned, pushing open the door. 

“No!” Thranduil yelled out, turning to push you back as you began to enter. 

“My love, what’s wrong?” You questioned again, fear in your eyes as he looked at you wildly.

“You weren’t supposed to get here so quickly…” 

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, looking to the mess of books on the floor behind him. “I’ll help you clean up and we can have breakfast okay?” You reached out to cup his cheek, a smile on your face. 

Thranduil’s wild expression dissolved as your hand touched his cheek, nuzzling into your hand and pressing a kiss to your palm. 

“I’ll clean it up, don’t worry about it my starlight, it’s okay,” Thranduil urged you away from touching them, causing you to laugh. “It’s okay darling, I don’t mind, it’s not like they’re going to hurt me,” You joked as you sunk to the floor to pick them up. 

‘Immortality,’

‘Necromancy’

‘Human Mortality’ 

The book titles made you curious, tilting your head as you lifted them up. Then you noticed how quiet Thranduil had become. 

Placing them back on the bookshelf, you turned to face him only to jump, noticing how close he was to you. 

“Thranduil?”

“What do you think of those?” Thranduil questioned, memories of his previous love’s voice alarming in his ears, the refusal of his affection still stinging his heart despite having a new love to focus on. 

“They are… interesting topics,” You smiled, not too sure where he was going with his questioning. 

“What if…”

You tilted your head as he struggled to seem to find the words to say to you, his chest beginning to heave with panic.

“Thranduil, my love, calm down…” You spoke softly, rubbing his arms up and down.

“What if… I was able to find a way to make you immortal… To be with me forever?”

Your silence was deafening, Thranduil’s own thoughts began to swirl in his head as you struggled to find your words.

“You love me that much? That you want me to be with you forever?” You questioned, your stomach flipping, your insides feeling warm as happy tears sprung up in your eyes.

Thranduil’s eyes snapped to yours, his thoughts of rejection and murder leaving him as he processed your reaction. “I’ll do whatever it takes if it means we’ll be together forever, my sweet.” He responded while wrapping his arms around your waist. 

“I’d do anything for you,” His words were laced with honey yet lined with barbs, the meaning of his words sweet yet unnerving as he pulled you into his embrace. 

“I love you,” You mumbled into his chest, moving your own arms to embrace him in return. Your words shooting lightning into him, his eyes widening as euphoria surged through his being. 

“-And I you.”

Tags:

Forever Tag-  

@lady-of-lies @all-things-fandomstuck  @fizzyxcustard @izzydaelleth @aquaangel18@raindancer2004 @love-colorfulglittercollection @underthemoon-imagines​​ @ladylouoflothlorien​ @unlikelysamwinchesteronahunt​ @bad268​​ @legolaslovely​ @bthtallmadge2​ @abesottedlass @wilhelmyna

Thranduil- @indelwen-of-mirkwood​ @sapphireduck​ @ashleygrrrl​ @katiegoddessofmischief​

[scabopolis]

lv au week, day 2: super heroes

Title: superbloom Fandom: Veronica Mars Rating: PG-13 for content, R for swears (Veronica writes in her feelings journal and really lets those swears go) Pairing: Logan Echolls/Veronica Mars Other Characters: Mentions of Mac and Meg Additional Tags: Secret identity (again?! what?), unnecessary epistolary literature (does a journal count as epistolary?), half-baked world building, a vague understanding of superhero lore Word Count: ~1,075 Day 1 | Day 2 | Day 3 | Day 4 | Day 5 | Day 6 | Day 7

***

Again, written solely because @cubbiegirl and @marshmellowbobcat are earth angels. I even added a title this time so that MB doesn’t have to come up with one. 

Why did I write this as Veronica’s journal? Mostly because it’s a style which seems to be a fanfic right of passage and I haven’t tried it so...here we are.  

I probably owe a lot to other superhero universes and their world building (as in, referring to them as ‘supers’ ala The Incredibles). What are the full extent of Logan and Veronica’s powers? *shrug emoji*

***

Date: February 15 Tracked a low-level Kane agent to a tourist trap bistro in downtown San Diego. Place was packed. Is this the new thing? Shitty men forget to make Valentine’s Day reservations, so they make them for the day after? 

Thought I had the guy but when I mistimed my pulse he metamorphosed into a cockroach and scurried away. 

Best part of the night was the chocolate mousse I got to-go. Despite appearances within, the food wasn’t too bad. 

Date: February 17 Caught up to Cockroach. Real name is Abel Koontz. Slimy guy tried to escape again, but Mac outfitted me with a souped up Morph Choke as backup — emphasis on the choke. Gonna need to recalibrate that a bit, Mackenzie. 

Bonus! Forgot it was laundry day, so had to wear my backup uni. Next time I run into Meg out in the field I’ll have to ask her if she can see my underwear through it. 

Date: February 18 Finally got around to watching season two of The Boys. Where do they get this shit? 

If Piznarski brings up forming some sort of super team for the 7-millionth time at the summit this year, I’m siccing Clayton on him.

Date: February 21 Got into a fight with Mac. Technically my fault. 

I faded while in public, and look, I get it. 

Being detected while living as my alter would be bad. BUT!! Being forced to interact with my ex as he is on a date with a woman who legitimately looks like she could be my doppelganger is very bad. 

Date: February 22 Clarified with Mac: me fading in public did not worry her. Me tripping Leo on purpose as I faded was apparently a problem.

Date: February 24 Cockroach stood me up.

Date: February 25 For all that is good and holy if another fucking cocky cowboy of a super moves to Neptune, I am going to lose my shit. This newest one? Got in my way as I attempted to track Kane, Jr into a warehouse. Fucking Smirky McCowboy stepped in my way and assured me I didn’t want to follow. Something about a dozen armed guards with guns aimed at the door. MAYBE THAT WAS MY PLAN!

(Because, of course the guy ripped a powers page right out of Superman’s book and has x-ray vision.)

(And, his uni? Not hard to tell when a super has money. They’re always the worst.)

Date: February 28 Ran into Smirky McCowboy again. This time outside of a poker game hosted by a real estate developer with connections to Kane. Smirky said it was a coincidence. 

Still no sign of Cockroach. 

Date: March 2 FUCKING HELL. He beat me to it. AGAIN! How is he doing this? 

Date: March 4 Smirky’s name is apparently Logan. Which I learned because I was getting coffee at Willow Grove (just minding my business while covertly eavesdropping on previously mentioned real estate developer) when some guy sat at my table. Unprompted. Uninvited. UNWELCOME.  

Mask or no mask, THAT SMIRK. 

The more concerning thing is that his x-ray vision apparently sees through the skeletal enhancements Mac wired into my mask, meaning he ID’d me right away. 

Date: March 5 Why do they keep coming here? Doesn’t New York have more crime? Go there!

Mac says it’s my fault for busting the Fitzpatricks, outing Kane as the sociopath he is, and helping all those kids find their lost dogs. 

Okay, she only mentioned the first two, but I think the third has value. 

The point is! these hangers-on need to find their own territory.  

Date: March 6 Mac traced at least 70 arrests to Smirky in the Los Angeles area alone. I hate him.

Date: March 10 If he scoops another one of my cases…

Date: March 11 He calls me Supergirl. 

He calls me Supergirl and I want to punch him. 

Mac says Cockroach’s tracker is still active but the signal is being blocked.

Date: March 13 Saw Meg today. She took down her own parents. Fucking savage. God, I love her. She flew me up to American Plaza and we drank champagne to celebrate.  

Oh! And good news! She says my backup uni isn’t see through. 

Date: March 13 Woke up with this terrifying thought: can smirky see through my uni? 

He wouldn’t...right? I mean...he’s an asshole but I don’t think he’s a creep. 

Date: March 16 I punched him. 

Not for the underwear thing! He swears he’s never looked and I weirdly believe him. 

And I didn’t punch him as much as he walked into a pulse. Yes, fine. 

I maybe purposefully put up the pulse to see if his x-ray vision could detect it. But I didn’t tell him to walk into it. 

(He can’t detect it, btw. I did it a second time just to be sure.)

Date: March 18 Found Cockroach. Or, I guess I should say Koontz. He washed up on Dog Beach as his alter. 

Mac said it could be a coincidence but we both know that’s not true. 

Date: March 19 Did I do this? Did I get Cockroach killed? 

Date: March 19 Logan has very good alcohol. 

Date: March 20 Hangovers. Bad. 

Date: March 20 Logan makes very good pancakes. 

Date: March 21 Logan has seen me drunk, which means Logan must be destroyed. 

Date: March 22 In a certain light, the smirk isn’t so bad. 

Date: March 23 Oh god. 

Date: March 24 Oh god.

Do I like him?

Date: March 25 I hate myself. I’m a giant cliché. I apologize to all women supers everywhere. 

Logan swears he can’t see past the new enhancements Mac made to my uni.

He also asked me to dinner. Was tempted to 1) fade, and 2) run away, but I did neither. 

Date: March 26 Adding insult to injury, Smirky McCowboy really knows how to kiss.

Date: March 27 Mac says I shouldn’t be so hard on myself. 

Actually, what she said was that neither he nor I are all that pleasant to be around so we might be meant for each other. 

Date: March 28 He really knows how to do some other things, too. 

Date: March 29 Logan got me a present: surveillance footage of Kane’s mysterious second-in-command with Koontz the night before he was found.

He’s been upgraded to not the absolute worst. 

Date: March 29 To be perfectly clear: we are not a super team. 

Date: March 30 Logan and I are on surveillance detail tonight. 

Maybe I can convince him to stop for some chocolate mousse. 

[impala-dreamer]

Muddy Soul - Chapter 26

~ Life isn’t always as it seems and people aren’t who they say they are. Love isn’t always a good thing, and sometimes, finding out the hard way may just kill you. ~

Series Warnings/Characters/Pairings are all listed on the Muddy Soul Masterlist. Please read the warnings before proceeding.

Chapter 26 Word Count: 2,056

Muddy Soul Masterlist ~ My Masterlist ~ Become A Patreon ~ My Original Works on Amazon

Days went by and Y/N found a little peace now and then. 

Castiel had been by to heal her new wounds, easily closing up the cuts and soothing the bruises. She smiled as he worked, closing her eyes as his Grace flowed through her. It felt so strange, like an echo of Christian’s magic, and she soaked it in, just a little taste, just a hit of the drug she needed.  

The withdrawal came and went. For long stretches, she was fine, almost back to her old self if not incredibly tired and depressed. She felt all right, until suddenly, she felt very wrong.

She helped out when she could, reorganizing the pantry with Dean, and passing him tools as he gave Baby a tune up. It was easy to do things that required her hands; moving was much better than not. 

When she sat with Sam in the Library, attempting to help him with some lore entries, she started to panic. The quiet was too quiet, the air was too still. Her fingernails flicked over the tiny ribs in her jeans, tugged at the seams on her shirt, dug into her palms. If she wasn’t moving, she was thinking, and thinking only led her down the darker paths. 

What had she done wrong? Why had she been so stupid? Why didn’t he want her? 

Over and over, she played out scenes in her head like horror movies as Christian’s phantom haunted the shadowy corners of the Bunker. She tried to ignore him at first, forcing her eyes to pass over him without a thought, but it was impossible. He was solid, lifelike, evil. And she wanted him still. 

Eventually, she learned to tune out his face, to push away his image from her mind. It wasn’t always easy, but the more she did it, the more she consciously told him to leave, the more she crossed out his picture in her mind, the stronger she felt. Perhaps, she could beat him. 

Some days she smiled. 

Some days she cried. 

Some days she screamed and fought with anyone who approached her. She drank until her stomach turned, cut until she needed help to staunch the bleeding. 

Some days she climbed into Dean’s bed with soft kisses and a plea for a hug. 

Some days she ran from him, afraid he would strike her down with a single blow. 

It was hard, but she was trying. 

Thursday night was pizza night, and it was Dean’s turn to fly. He grabbed his jacket off the back of his chair and headed for the garage, boots clunking loudly against the floor. 

Y/N was alone in the kitchen, staring down into a cup of cold black coffee. 

He stopped in the doorway and whistled at her. “Hey. You gonna drink that or interrogate it?”

Y/N shivered and yanked her mind from a flashback, forcing a smile as she looked up at Dean. “Going somewhere?” 

She sounded sad, lost. His shoulders dropped. 

“Just running into town to grab dinner.” He twirled the car keys in his hand. “Come with me.” 

Y/N shook her head. “I don’t know-” 

Dipping his chin, Dean gave her the eye. “You’re coming. Let’s roll.” 

Reluctantly, she followed. It was hard to say no to him even in her darkest moments. Especially when he looked up at her through those thick lashes, green eyes bright with ideas. “You suck,” she mumbled. 

His chuckle rumbled off the tiles. “I know.” 

Y/N hadn’t been outside in weeks and the early evening sun burned her eyes as the Impala drove out of the garage. The light rose on the windshield like sunrise on a beach and Y/N squinted at the brightness, not used to the feel of it against her eyes, her skin. 

When they hit the road, she rolled down her window an inch and Dean watched as she stuck her nose in the crack, cautiously sniffing the air. She inhaled deeply and the cool air filled her senses. 

“It’s almost fall,” she said, rolling down the window even more and sticking her hand out. She let her hand ride on the wave of the wind, smiling honestly for the first time in a long while.

Dean smiled. “Yeah. Almost.” 

Y/N closed her eyes and let the wind kiss her cheeks. It felt good to breathe again, to feel the air rush through her hair. The sun flickered like a strobe through the trees and she unbuckled her seatbelt, turning towards Dean. 

“Let’s go to Vincenzo’s,” she suggested with a soft smile. 

Dean raised a brow and shifted his hands on the wheel. “Vincenzo’s? That’s like thirty minutes away. We’re just popping into town.” 

Y/N pouted. “I just wanna… drive for a while.”

He nodded and stretched his arm out across the back of the long bench seat. “OK.” 

Y/N scooted over and settled against his side, head on his shoulder, hand on his chest. He bent his lips to kiss the top of her head; he hadn’t felt this good in forever. Maybe she was finally on the way back. 

The pizzeria was crowded and Y/N clung to Dean’s hand as they walked inside. She hung back as he ordered; two pies and a side of wings. Y/N closed her eyes and tried to breathe, but the lights were too bright, the voices around her too loud. The walls began to tremble, ready to close in around her, and she dug her nails into her palms, begging her mind to slow. 

“You all right?” Dean asked, turning away from the counter. She was a step behind him, muscles in her arms and neck pulsing rapidly as the rest of her stood stone-still. “Y/N?” Concerned, he reached out to touch her arm and she jerked away, violently jumping back. 

“No!” She screamed at his touch, at the room, at the random strangers now turning to look at her. Their faces twisted and contorted into viscous sneers and evil laughter rang in her ears. She swung at Dean who tried to pull her close, knocking him off balance with a left hook he didn’t see coming. 

Christian loomed in the darkness behind the crowd that now turned to gawk and point at the crazy woman in their midst. He tipped the ashes from his cigarette onto a freshly baked pie and laughed. “You’re losing your mind, pretty girl.” 

Her vision blurred on everything but his smug face and she raged at him, shouting over the dense noise pounding in her skull. “Shut up!” 

Hands reached for her, faces rushed into her line of sight. Her skin began to crawl, her veins ached, her breath stopped. 

Y/N spun on her heel and rushed to the door, Christian’s booming laugh echoing behind her. 

“You can run all you want. I’m inside of you. You’re stuck with me. Forever.” 

Bells crashed above the door as Y/N pushed out into the night air. She took off down the street, not knowing or caring where she was going. 

Darkness settled around her, the cool air stung her cheeks. 

Boots thudded behind her; Dean called her name. 

Out of breath, she stopped, sneakers skidding on the asphalt. She closed her eyes and lifted her face to the sky, arms spread, soul open. She begged Heaven to strike her dead. Dared Hell to come take her. She’d had enough. 

“Smart girl.” Christian’s voice flew through her mind, carried by the wind that lifted the short hairs at the nape of her neck. “Death is the only way out of this.”

Y/N screamed. “Please!”

She felt the light hit her eyelids, burning them bright orange and red. She smiled, relieved that the angels were listening, and opened her eyes. 

Headlights blinded her and Y/N lifted her arms to shield her eyes. 

Dean slammed into her like a brick wall, knocking the breath from her lungs as he grabbed her up off of her feet, rushing her to the side of the road where they both fell in a heap on the grass, panting and terrified. 

“What the hell is wrong with you!” He screamed, rolling over her, pinning her to the cold ground. “You trying to get yourself killed?” 

Tears pushed out of her eyes, sliding down the corners, and she gasped for air, unable to control herself as he yelled. “Please...stop.” 

His face was red, nostrils flaring, jaw clenched. “Stop? I just fucking saved your life!” 

Y/N whimpered loudly as his voice crackled through her. Her bottom lip shook, her body trembling beneath him. 

Dean sat back on her legs and lifted a hand to scrub down his face. She saw the arm go up and cringed, turning away from him, afraid he was about to strike. 

“D-don’t.”

“Jesus, Y/N/N,” he gasped, climbing off of her and lowering his hand. “What the hell did he do to you?” 

Still shaking, she rolled onto her side and popped up on all fours, scurrying away from him as fast as she could. She didn’t get far, collapsing into a pile of weak limbs and flowing tears. 

“Baby, come on… please.” Dean went to her, falling down next to her head, listening in pain as she cried. “I’m sorry I screamed at you. I just- I don’t know what’s going on half the time anymore and I- You were standing in the middle of the road, talking to yourself. For fuck’s sake, Y/N, this can’t go on. You can’t go on like this.” 

Tears calming but heart aching, Y/N pushed up and sat on her heels, wiping her cheek with her sleeve. “What are you saying? That you’re done with me?”

Dean startled. “What? No…”

“That I’m too much of a fucking burden and you’re over it?” Her voice grew with anger and resentment. “You don’t want to have to deal with the crazy girl anymore?”

Dean shook his head and sat forward, reaching for her. “Y/N, no. Stop it.” 

“Oh, I’ll stop it.” She jumped to her feet. “I’ll leave you to get on with your life, Dean Winchester. God forbid anyone else have a fucking trauma around here but you or Sam! I’ll just leave you two to it, then, shall I? The Righteous Man and the Boy With The Demon Blood, twin fucking assholes!” She turned, ready to run, but Dean’s cell phone rang, throwing her off track. 

He was frozen, staring at her as the ringtone blasted from his jacket pocket. 

“Well?” she yelled, one hand waving towards the sound. “You gonna answer it?” 

“I don’t know,” he said calmly. “You done yelling at me?” 

Y/N crossed her arms and sneered. “Yes.” 

Dean pulled the phone from his pocket and swiped, putting Sam on speaker. 

“Hey. Where are you guys?” 

Dean sighed. “Oh, just rolling around in a ditch by the side of the road. You?” 

“What? Just get back here. Rowena’s got something.” 

Y/N leaned in. “Rowena?” 

Sam cleared his throat. “Yeah. I asked her to look into a few things for us. She, uh- Just get home soon as you can.”

Dean nodded and pulled the phone closer. “OK. On our way.” 

As if he could sense her apprehension through the phone, Sam added, “Oh, Y/N? It’s a good thing.” 

She scoffed and looked away. “Yeah, yeah.” 

Dean ended the call and stuffed the phone back in his pocket. “You ready?” he asked, looking up at her. 

Y/N nodded gently and held out her hand to help him up. He mostly jumped, but she helped a little. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. 

Dean licked his chapped lips and sighed. “Me too.”

After a glance that lasted a moment too long, Y/N turned and tried to start back for the car, but Dean refused to let her hand go. 

“What are you doing?” 

He turned his palm and pushed his fingers through hers, locking them together. “Not letting you go again,” he said, voice calm and sure. 

Y/N smiled and Dean blushed as she stared at him, an adorable laugh shaking her shoulders. “So much for no chick flick moments…” 

Dean gave her hand a tug as he walked off, pulling her behind him. “Yeah, shut up.” 

‘21 Forever Tags:

@akshi8278 @alwayskeepfightingsweetheart @amanda-teaches​ @beardburnsupersoldiers​ @because-imma-lady-assface​ @broiderie​ @burningcoffeetimetravel-fics​ @cheritzie @cno92 @cosicas-cuquis @covered-byroses​ @crashdevlin​ @deansgirl215​ @defenderrosetyler @dontshootmespence @donnaintx​ @feelmyroarrrr @focusonspn​ @gabrielslittleangel​  @hannahindie​ @ilsawasanacrobat​ @justcallmeasmodeus​ @katelynw93​ @kittenofdoomage​  @laxe-from-outer-space @lyarr24​ @magicsharilynn @mariekoukie6661​ @missjenniferb​ @mylovelydame21​ @mysticmaxie​ @pandaxo79​ @pilaxia​ @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester​ @squirrelnotsam​ @tatted-trina6​ @thoughts-and-funnies​ @typicalweirdbookworm​ @vulgar-library​ @winchestershiresauce​

Muddy Soul:

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[chris-evans-indian-fanfic]

Lifetimes

Chapter 2

Description - Detective Okoye finds out more about King Steven's past as you are subjected to further torture

Warning - Horror, mutilation, torture, Dark!Steve

PROCEED ONLY IF YOU ARE 18+!

Chapter 1

My Main Masterlist

I don’t consent to have any of my work published or featured on any third party app, website or translated. If you are seeing this fanfiction anywhere but Tumblr and AO3, it has been reposted without my permission. In that case, please do share the link and let me know.

…

Detective Okoye sipped coffee as she examined the crime scene report on her desk. It had been more than 2 months since you had been the victim of the heinous crime. She narrowed her eyes as she read the report for probably the millionth time. The case was littered with problems.

First of all, they couldn't find your dead body. They had searched across the city and the state and had turned up empty handed. 

Secondly, the forensic team had secured two different sets of fingerprints from the crime scene atop the cliff. One set belonged to you, the other, your killer. However, their database couldn't match the fingerprints with any US citizen and known terrorists. Even the CIA, FBI and even the Interpol turned up empty-handed. 

The team also found paper-thin scraps of ash scattered across the cliff and the road. Their scientists could not make sense of that either. 

Lastly, they had absolutely no leads to chase down your attacker. The security cameras hadn't caught anything. There were no witnesses, except the one statement from Chris Evans, who continuously rambled on about the deep scar on the attacker's face. 

"You need to stop reading that file Oko. You are not a part of the investigation anymore," Detective Natasha's voice broke through Okoye's thoughts.

"I can't let it go Nat," Okoye responded, rubbing her forehead, "I keep thinking that I have missed something."

Nat closed the file and sat on the desk, "Look, I know it's frustrating to break your perfect record. But sometimes there are cases which you just can't solve."

Okoye sighed, "10 years Nat. I have solved every single case in the last decade. No matter if it was a simple house robbery or taking down a drug cartel, I have always cracked all of my cases. And now this?" Okoye slammed down her coffee mug in disgust, "I have been assigned desk duty because I couldn't solve this case."

"You know it's temporary till things dial down a bit," Nat tried to reason, "When the girlfriend of an international superstar goes missing, his fans and the media tend to erupt," Nat placed a hand on her shoulder, "You will be back soon Oko."

"Evans hasn't received a call for ransom?" Okoye inquired.

Nat shook her head, "I don't think she is alive Oko."

🌑

You opened your eyes, the whispers in the dark playing on a loop in your head, "What does he want?" , "Ya no puedo soportar esto" , "Who is she?" , "Quiero ir a casa" , "I make my most humble apology" ,"Nobis auxilium Dominus!" You only recognized English, the rest of the few languages alien to your ears. Besides you, you could see the terrified figures of ancient women who resembled your features.

You tried to speak to them, but no sound escaped your orifice. You were frozen, but were yet somehow still moving. The edge of your skin, along with others, shed like thin layers of ash, only to be replenished by the wind. 

It's this what death felt like? Were you a ghost?

The voices in your head suddenly went silent as everyone heard the despicable cackle of the man who commanded all of you.

🌑

It was dusk when Okoye walked towards the National History museum with her 5-year-old daughter in tow. She waved when she saw Carol with her son.

"Thank you so much for coming along!" Carol grinned as they hugged, "David was dying to look at the new exhibit."

Okoye brushed her off, "Please there's no need to thank me. Aurelia is just as much of a history enthusiast as David."

They joined the long line of people, mostly parents with their kids, waiting for their turn to enter. "I had no idea this exhibit was so popular," Okoye admitted as she took in the crowd. 

"Yeah. Ever since the discovery of the Aveninfin kingdom, suddenly everyone is a history nerd," Carol commented, "Still, I think it's cool that they found the remnants of an entire kingdom underneath the Texan desert." 

As they entered the museum, both the kids ran off towards the children's section of the exhibit where the tour guide was handing out pamphlets.

Okoye sucked in a deep breath, "Umm Carol, I wanted to talk about the bake sale this Saturday-"

"Yes Maria and I are going to bake lemon squares, chocolate cupcakes and vanilla-strawberry cookie spirals," Carol interrupted her, "I was thinking Maria will present the lemon squares from your end? We will say you are currently caught up with work and handed over your goodies to us," she knowingly winked at Okoye.

Her eyes filled with tears at Carol's kind words, "I am sorry," Okoye barely whispered.

"Oko, you have nothing to apologise for. It's difficult being a single mother and an awesome ass-kicking detective at the same time. Don't be harsh on yourself," Carol tried to console her by rubbing her back, "We love Aurelia. And we love you! It also helps that you gang up with me to prank my wife," Carol beamed.

They strolled in the museum, always keeping an eye on the kids as their activities continued. After about an hour or so, the kids dispersed. "Mommy," Aurelia called out, "did you see the handprint painting?" 

"No baby I didn't," Okoye replied. Her daughter led her by taking two of Okoye's fingers in her small hands. "You should see this mommy! You are a defective. This is also like defective work."

Okoye couldn't help but laugh at her daughter's innocence, "That's right baby, I am a defective."

She picked her up when they reached the fingerprint portion of the exhibit. Aurelia pointed out to one set of fingerprints, "See? Just like you explained," she clapped her hands once for impact. 

Okoye chuckled, kissing her daughter's forehead. She looked at the various sets of fingerprints. Most of them were unnamed, except three. One belonged to the King's right hand man called Buchanan, the other to the Queen named Luna and finally, the King himself, Steven Grant. 

Okoye stared at Steve's fingerprints. There was something eerily familiar about them. She stared harder, trying to identify them when suddenly, realisation hit her like an iceberg. 

Could it be? No it was impossible. But the intricate pattern of the fingerprints undoubtedly matched the ones in her file! 

She immediately unlocked her phone and compared the two images. They were identical! Okoye dialled Natashas's number, informing her of the development. "I will be there in 20 minutes," she replied.

🌑

Detectives Okoye and Natasha sat across the table from Dr Bruce Banner, the archeologist behind the discovery of the Aveninfin kingdom. It had been three days since Okoye's lead, and now, it seemed they were back to square one. 

It seemed that nobody on Bruce's staff had used the fingerprints to commit the crime. Everybody had airtight alibis, even the doctor himself. 

"I don't know what I can tell you ladies anymore-" Bruce started saying. But Natasha swiftly interrupted him, "Detectives," she spat with authority.

He held up his hands in resignation, "Sorry. Detectives. I have nothing new to share. You guys have been to my house, my lab and my office. You have interrogated my staff and colleagues. I really don't know how can-," he was interrupted again.

"A heinous crime was committed, and," Okoye pointed a finger at him, "fingerprints of your King Steven were found at the crime scene. So you really expect us to believe that he came back from the dead just to murder Chris Evans' girlfriend?"

"Legends share that King Steven never died," Bruce half-smiled at his pathetic joke. "Look, you guys are the detectives. Isn't it your job to," he gestured in a random direction, "detect this?"

"What was the need to even obtain fingerprints from an archeological site?" Okoye inquired.

Bruce looked squarely at her, "Fingerprints help us study human evolution Detective. We were lucky to have found their fingerprints painted on the wall and imprinted in the mudcakes."

"Mudcakes?" Nat cocked an eyebrow.

Bruce took a deep breath, "The people of Aveninfin believed that the dead would find a way back in case the living ever needed them. However, the dead spirits would need to identify their graves and their loved ones. So after the death of any citizen, they would press the deceased palms onto a patch of damp mud, which would then solidify, leaving behind an imprint."

Okoye bit her cheek, "But you just said that King Steven isn't believed to be dead."

Bruce shook his head, "I said legends claimed that. Folk-lore, fairy tales, ancient myth. There's no way to actually verify this."

Natasha checked her watch, "Well, we still have about an hour or so left for this interrogation to end. So why don't you indulge us Doctor?" she requested in her sweet venomous voice.

Rubbing his eyes, Bruce took a deep breath. "Okay," he said, "How much do you remember about the history of Aveninfin from school?" 

Both the women looked at each other. "Wasn't it a kingdom ruined by greed and ambition?" Okoye guessed.

Bruce nodded in response, "The king, Steven Grant, wanted to conquer the entire world just like Alexander had once set out to. In the 17th century, when the kingdom of Aveninfin was at its peak, King Steven married a Sorceress by the name of Luna. It is believed that Queen Luna gained her powers from the moon. A bit Luna-tic, amirite?" Bruce's another lame attempt at a joke was met with stony silence.

He cleared his throat, "So anyways, Queen Luna saw how the kingdom and it's citizens suffered in poverty while the King, his aid Buchanan and the corrupt traders and officers enjoyed the riches. She knew of his ambition to conquer the world and so, she killed him by poisoning him. But, here is where things get interesting."

Bruce shifted in his seat, the  excitement in his voice mirroring in his body language, "The Queen didn't account for Buchanan's loyalty. You see, in some iterations of the legend, it is said that the King and Buchanan were lovers, in others, they were mentioned as close comrades. Buchanan was said to be raised by witches, and so, when he realised that the King had been poisoned, he went and dug open his grave to revive the King."

Natasha looked disinterested and Okoye managed to keep a passive expression as Bruce rambled on. "Buchanan apparently gave half of his soul to the King, so that King Steven can live. But this only made matters worse. Now both, the King and Buchanan, existed in the world of the living, and also in the realm of the dead. This place… this-this sweet nexus of two dimensions cursed the beings with unimaginable power, and pain."

Okoye gave Natasha half a smile as the latter yawned, "Let me guess the next part Doctor," Natasha offered, "The King laid waste to the entire kingdom and buried it within the ground where the sun doesn't shine?" 

Deflated, Bruce sank back in his chair, "Yeah."

🌑

You were passing through buildings, cars, houses, trees and God knows what. Suddenly, you came to a stop. You were surprised when you saw King Steve, or "Conqueror of the Paranormal, Leader of the Occult Study and Summoner of Death, His Majesty King Steven Grant" as he liked to call himself, converse with another man. 

This stranger's hair was tied in a small ponytail. His physique was just as massive and looked just as strong as Steve's.  

His magic command wore off just a bit as he was speaking with the stranger. You were able to move your face and a little portion of your limbs. You gasped in your head as you finally took in the condition of the women around you. Some women were missing their palms, feet, or even entire hands and legs. A few had their entire torsos cut so that you could only see their spine connecting their head with their hips. While the face of one woman was absent of her eyeballs, the other one's neck had been chopped off in a gruesome manner.

Steve's power over you started weaning further as he became more agitated in his conversation. Your eyesight became a bit clearer, the shades of black and grey slowly shifting into focus.

You had to find a way out of this prison. By now, you understood that all the women in King Steven's harem had been murdered and kept captive. This could not be death. You didn't want it to be.

Looking downwards at your feet, you noticed the faint wisps of ash detaching from your body and collecting on the ground below. It could easily be confused as dust in a small quantity, but when shed in a larger amount, it could form a trail of sorts...

🌑

A FEW DAYS later saw Okoye sitting at her desk with her head in her hands. "Oko," Natasha approached her gently.

"You know, if I had any hair on my head I would be pulling them out right now," Okoye joked miserably. 

"I told you before Oko. Some cases are too twisted to be solved. Do you know how many cases in the US go unsolved? Probably-"

"Wait," Okoye interrupted Natasha, "What did you just say?" 

Natasha looked a bit surprised, "Ummm… Do you know how many cases go unsolved?"

"That's it!" exclaimed Okoye. She rushed towards the Records room of the precinct, with Natasha hot on her heels. "What's 'it'?" she asked.

"We need to check whether these fingerprints have come up in the last 6 months in the unsolvable crimes committed," Okoye explained, "Think about it Nat. Dr Banner told us that they retrieved the prints 6 months ago right? So there has to be-"

Natasha sighed, "Well it is a lead. But…" "But what?" Okoye responded. 

"You are grasping at straws Oko. Don't you think it would have been in the news if a murder went unsolved heart because the prints couldn't be traced? Look I…," Natasha hesitated, "I know you are desperate. Frustrated even. But this has started to affect your health and work and I can't just stand by and be a silent spectator."

"Then don't be one. Join me and help me in solving this," Okoye urged.

Natasha just shook her head, "If… if you don't give up this case Okoye then-"

"Then what Natasha?" Okoye almost spat her name.

"I will have to report you," Natasha's threat sounded like a plea.

Okoye squared her shoulders, "After everything we have gone through?"

Natasha looked at her with a painful expression, "Yes. Especially after everything we have gone through. I just cannot let you destroy your career behind one case. You weren't even supposed to interrogate Dr Banner! This… this stops now."

Both the women stared at one another, refusing to back down. Finally, Natasha muttered something under her breath and left the Records room as Okoye kept glaring at her back.

36 HOURS LATER, Okoye found a nondescript manila envelope on her desk, buried under her pile of unprocessed files with a note, "Hope this helps! - Peter P." She casually angled her body in a way which hid the contents of the envelope as she opened it. Her eyes widened at the information displayed in front of her.

King Steven's fingerprints were found at crime scenes that dated back all the way to 1915, almost around the time when the police started using science and technology to obtain and analyse fingerprints. 

As she flipped through the pages, she noted the years of the crimes committed. 1915, 1933, 1954, 1974, 1997 and lastly, 2020. A quick mental calculation made her realise that the average number of years between these murders were approximately between 20-22.

But nothing prepared her for what she saw next.

The photographs of all the female victims closely resembled your face. Sure, there was a difference in the colour of their skin, languages and backgrounds. But their facial features were identical. 

Moreover, there was a striking similarity in the way the crime was committed. The women were kidnapped and then disappeared without a trace. 

Okoye sat back in her chair as realisation struck her like a thunderbolt. Could it be? Was there really an undead entity hunting these women? And for what?

🌑

You were moving again. Every part of you was frozen, except the tips of your thumb and forefinger, thanks to King Steve still seething in anger. Rubbing them together furiously, you tried to communicate with others through your mind, urging them to do the same.

It continued for a while when suddenly, you felt yourself freeze completely. 

That disdainful cackle was back in your head, "Hehehehe. Honey wants to shed her skin? HER SKIN!!! Wants to be rescued. RESCUED! Don't like me? ME! Doesn't want skin? SKIN? SKIN! Then I will take it. TAKE IT!"

You felt his shadow push into you with force as your now solid forms collided with the ground. His blade, now shining brighter than the sun, cut into your sides as you silently screamed in agony. 

Pain seared through you as he started peeling the skin from your entire body, only to reveal the ghastly organs beneath. Muscle, bones, veins and all were now on display. Nobody could hear your blood-curdling screams except the women surrounding you, their howls of horror joining yours as once again, you were reminded about who was in charge.

"Need skin," Steve muttered as he kept cutting into you, "Have hands, legs, face, torso, everything. EVERYTHING! Need skin to put her back together. To bring her back. She will breathe. She will be alive. ALIVE!"

__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__

Permanent tag: @donutloverxo

Taglist for this series: @buckysteveloki-me @cheeseburgersstuff @ninefuckingoneone @keenmarvellover (I tagged you guys because you had requested to be tagged if I ever write a part 2. If you guys don't want to be tagged in this, just let me know. No hard feelings 😊)

Taglist open! Just comment, send an ask or message!

[cultureisdarkbeer]

Road to All Things: Chapter 10 Irrevocable

Road to All Things 

Tagging:  @season4mulder​ @today-in-fic​

Bacon sizzling. Her apartment filled with the smell and had Scully salivating. She opened her eyes and realized she had actually drooled on her pillow. The sheets on the other side were crumpled, but the bed was empty. Mulder was cooking. Scully tried not to smile, but she really couldn’t help herself. It almost felt like a dream,-too real to be real- but as she stepped in the shower and the hot water cascaded down her body, her sore muscles ached out the markings of Mulder’s path. It had been quite a night and very little of it was spent sleeping.

Dressed, Scully came into the kitchen and snagged a piece of the bacon. Salty and crisp, cooked to perfection. Mulder turned with the pan of scrambled eggs and scooped them up to carefully lay an equal amount in each dish. 

“You got up too early.” He looked up at her and smiled sheepishly. “I was going to make you breakfast in bed.”

Scully poured herself some coffee and sat down, taking an approving sip. She raised an eyebrow. “You want me to go back to bed?”

The corner of his mouth raised. “Well, yeah, but not for bacon and eggs.”

Scully ignored him, although his words resonated sharply in her chest,  and concentrated on eating her breakfast. Who knew Mulder knew how to cook breakfast? He surprised her every day. Mulder sat down beside her and started eating. The air between them was thick and alive. Every time their eyes met she felt their connection, only now it was concentrated into electrified intense explosions in her chest.

“You have plans today?” Mulder asked, grabbing the last piece of toast and using it to sop up his remaining eggs.

“I’m having lunch with my mother,” Scully replied solemnly, fidgeting in the chair and sending a fiery lock behind her ear. “I have to tell her. She knew I went through the procedures. It’s not a conversation I’m looking forward to.”

“I’ll go with you.”

“Mulder, I’m capable of telling her.”

“I know that.” He looked at his watch. “What time am I picking you up?”

 *

 Scully’s heels clicked loudly against the uneven pavement approaching her mother’s house. It was a cool day, yet Mulder had perspiration beading along his hairline.  “Are you nervous?” she asked. 

Mulder released a humored breath and pressed in the button to ring the bell. “Your mother and I are friends, what would I be nervous about?”

Not to anyone’s surprise, Maggie’s face glowed and her smile grew extra wide at the sight of Mulder. “Fox, how good of you to come,” she spurted merrily.

Scully helped Maggie serve lunch while Mulder squirmed in his chair, slurping his tea and as Scully could see, trying his best not to break anything. On their second trip to the kitchen and Mulder happily munching on a sandwich, Maggie cornered Scully between the sink and the drain rack. “So what brings the two of you here? Might there be some news?”

“Mom,” Scully started, but then cracked, not able to hold back the disappointment, “It didn’t take. I’m not going to be a mother.” Her mother had looked so excited that it almost broke Scully to see the features in her face fall and her shoulders slump. 

“Honey,” Maggie said, bringing her into her arms, letting her cry.

The ice maker thumped from the fridge alerting them to its presence and Scully sniffled. “I’m all right. I’ll be okay.” 

“Dana,” she said, as Scully backed away from their embrace. “You’re allowed to not be okay. How is Fox handling this? I’m here if either of you ever want to talk. It wouldn’t hurt to talk with a priest. Even a counsellor. There’s couples counseling..”

“Mom, mom,” Scully hugged her again. “Thank you. I know. Mulder and I don’t have that kind of relationship. We are good friends.”

“Dana, don’t be naive. You asked him to be the father of your child. He was preparing for that and now he has to accept that the outcome has changed. He’s not going to let on because he cares for you, because he’ll want to be strong for you, but he’s mourning too.”

Scully felt the wrath of her decisions needling its way inside.  “I-I feel like I disappointed you. You’ll have no grandchildren from me.”

“Honey, I have grandchildren and it’s not to say that you will never have children. God will answer your prayers in ways you may not be able to imagine. Never give up on a miracle.”

Scully squinted and tilted her head slightly.  “That’s the same thing Mulder said to me.”

“He’s a wise man, Dana. You should listen.” Maggie lifted the tray of freshly baked cookies and headed out to the dining room. “Let’s go, we’re being rude.”

Maggie poured the coffee and Mulder snagged two cookies. “Mrs. Scully, this was incredible. I almost can’t eat another bite,” he said with his mouth full, the chocolate oozing from the corner of his lips. He wiped it with his pinky laughing at his eagerness, using a napkin to clean the rest off his face.

After dessert and idle conversation, they stood to leave, Scully hugged her mother and walked ahead to the car. Maggie pulled Mulder aside. “I know this is hard for you too. I know you wanted this baby.”

Mulder tightened his upper lip and his shoulders drooped giving the appearance of a bird nesting on a branch. “I want what’s best for Scully. Right now I’m just making sure she knows I’m here and I support her.”

“I know, Fox,” she said, rubbing his forearm, her warm touch providing solace. “You and Dana are very good at carrying your burdens, but no matter the arrangement, your heart was preparing for you to be a father.” 

His eyes burned. Looking into Maggie staring woefully at him everything seemed very real. The pain cutting through his heart and mind, demanding attention, stinging with every breath he took. 

If Scully couldn’t have a child, then neither could he. The onesies, the star mobile, and the soft yellow blanket would remain tucked in the back of his closet to gather layers of dust. Maggie held out her arms, he bent down to hug her and leaned his head on her shoulder. Her comforting hand stroked his hair and squeezed his back. Breathing in her Wind Song perfume he could almost hear the mediocre wedding band and feel the pain from pinched cheeks telling him how much he had grown. 

She pulled back with a reassuring smile. “Don’t let this get between the two of you, Fox. God is listening and he will provide.”

 Days Later..

 A few drops of crimson on cotton and Scully had to draw back tears. It should not have been a surprise. The natural result of her and Mulder’s attempts. The answer to a prayer. She knew it would arrive eventually, but even though she was expecting it, she wasn’t expecting its symbolism to hurt so much. She was at work, in a cold metal stall of the lady’s restroom. Her body trembled as she sucked in a breath and headed out. There was no reason to get  upset anymore. There was nothing to be done. No baby. A future of great uncertainty.  

When she returned to the office, Mulder lifted his head away from his computer screen. “I’ve been researching reports of a vampiric witch roaming Olympic National Park.”

“Fangs and all?” Scully asked, suddenly amused, and relieved to send her mind elsewhere. That was what she needed, to focus on the work. “Acts like an ordinary person, has no discernible creature features,” Mulder explained and she could hear that underlying excitement. “At night, however,” Mulder said, putting a little sing song for dramatic effect at the end of his voice that put a smile on Scully’s face, “it prowls the graveyards in search of entrails so it can create a libation that allows it to shapeshift. If it cannot get the entrails it needs it hunts the bedrooms of the local townspeople.”

“And local law enforcement? What’s there take on this?”

Mulder picked up a pencil to twiddle between his fingers and propped his feet up on the corner of the desk. “Their take is it’s your run of the mill serial killer that is looking to distract everyone by imitating the myth.”

“Even if a vampire witch did exist, why would it need to shapeshift?”

Mulder sat up in his chair and leaned forward. “Those that believe, think it does so to combat being enslaved… by aliens.” 

Scully stopped reviewing her lab results and lowered the page to get a good look at Mulder to make sure he wasn’t putting her on. 

“I understand your doubts… and if you’re open to it, we could take a trip to Bali,” he suggested and Scully could see the emerald glow in his hazel eyes. “You could bring your snorkel and we could learn the roots of the lore.” Mulder rose from his chair to face her. He cupped her cheek and locked their eyes, gently swiping at the stain from one of the twin tears that had trickled down her face. “We can step away from this case if you’re not ready,” he said in low tones, “There’s another case within driving distance.”

Scully slowly shook her head and took a half step back out of his reach, her eyes lowering from his gaze. She stiffened. It was the first time they had touched since their night together. The first inkling either of them gave that anything at all had transpired between them or about their loss. With nothing left to do or say they just pushed forward. 

“There’s no need to travel to Bali. We’ll do both cases.” She joined his eyes only for a moment, raising the file in her hand. “I need to get these to the lab. There are further tests I’d like them to conduct and while I’m down there they asked for my help. Can you arrange our airfare?”

“Sure,” Mulder murmured  with a concerned look on his face that almost made Scully sprint rather than walk out of the office. All she really needed right now was to work.

 Ten Days Later...

 “Will you be eating tonight?” Mulder asked,  skulking around the back area of the office, rummaging through the cabinets. It was all very curious. Was he looking for something or hiding it?

“What? Yes, of course,” Scully answered, his questions as peculiar as his behavior. She walked over to where he was hovering and placed her notes from the last meeting in her drawer. His stare unnerved her, she could feel the pressure of his question like an overinflated balloon pressing against a bed of nails.

“I was thinking of ordering a pizza and I was thinking that I’ll probably have a few slices left over,” he said, cooly.

“I’m sorry, tonight is not a good night for me.” 

“Okay.” Mulder said, his bottom lip poked out past his top. “Another night.” He walked back to his desk and shook his mouse, taking the screen out of safe mode. Great, he was hurt.

“I’ve decided to start making healthier food choices,” she offered as an alternative excuse. It happened to be true. That and avoiding being with him alone at the late hours of the evening.  

“I can stop at the pet store on my way home. Pick up some rabbit food.”

He wasn’t giving up. She walked around his desk to hand him his summary notes and Mulder minimized his screen. A branding iron couldn’t have made her hotter then what he had been looking at. “No need to hide it. I saw the screen. Research?” she asked, tapping her foot with her hands at her hips.

He rotated the chair so he could look her dead in the eye, crossing his arms. “What if I can track down more vials? What if there is viable ova out there?”

She had been incorrect. A steam engine was hotter, and she could almost feel that steam rising from her ears. “And today you decide to pick up this crusade? You were there through everything that had happened with Emily and you never said a word.”

He ran a hand through his hair and scratched the back of his head. “You’re right.”

“You took that chance away from me.” Red lightning filled her sclera, her irises burning hot blue flames. “Tell me Mulder, have you really asked yourself why you agreed to be my donor?”

Mulder bolted from the chair. His jaw rocked and he lurched forward as if to challenge, but then left the office with her standing there, alone, wrapped in a translucent blanket of uncomfortable silence. 

 

That Night..

Scully’s knuckles dropped three solid thuds against the hard wood. Against all judgement and possessed by what she didn’t know, Scully stood fidgeting, excuses at the ready. She reviewed her apology speech in her head hoping he would forgive her earlier cruelty. The heavy brass deadbolt clanked back into its shell and Mulder’s door rushed open. He initially looked surprised, but as their eyes met, the tension before was replaced with a new heat. Her heart ached from the distance she had created. She needed to feel their impenetrable bond every time their eyes met. He sent a hand through her hair and pulled her into the apartment, kicking the door closed with his foot. Her back slammed against it so hard she lost half her breath. The other half was taken by Mulder as he covered her mouth with his and sucked it away. His long thin muscled body hard against her. His tongue demanding the fire from her body. He tasted like midnight and shadows, mysterious and sublime. The smell of rain, thunder, gunpowder. The Darkness coated them, an old black and white played softly from the television, pulsing its hues around them. Their bodies so immediately intertwined and so caught up in passion the clothes on the lower half of her body peeled off almost by telepathy. The hasty sound of his zipper burned her with desire. With a swift thrust, he was inside her, her nails digging into the soft cotton fabric of his shirt, hoping to withstand the pleasure of his cock hard and heavy, reaching into the most salacious and esoteric parts of her. Mulder was so thick and long that when he pushed all the way into her, she could feel the tip brushing the end of her, demanding even more, while his hard pubic bone pounded against her clit sending shockwaves of its own. He grabbed the curve of her behind and drove steadily into her sleek, tight canal, undulating his hips with solid, rhythmic thrusts. Oh that luxurious wonderous cock. It stretched her wide, and she melded so tight around it. Like everything else on Mulder, lanky and strong-willed and needing of her attention. And what she needed was their raw, rough, passionate connection to take her away from the peril and torment that had quickly become her life. 

Scully strained, desperate to thrust against him, to match his pace, but he had her pinned to the door. Mulder controlled the motion, controlled her pleasure, and she willingly surrendered, loving the devoted look in his eyes, the way his body shook in her arms as he did. The heat of their breaths filling the gaps between them, wrapping them inside a steamy cocoon. They were forgiving the other, caring and desperate to heal. What they both failed to express with words, their bodies could perfectly articulate; making it clear just how badly they yearned for one another. 

Mulder groaned, his fingers gripping hard into the flesh of her ass, pistoning in and out in a quick barrage of strokes. Without warning she skyrocketed to a peak, her muscles clenching and releasing in quick succession as she came hard around him. The sensations kept going, lingering, building again and Scully moaned aloud, the pleasure so intense, almost too much to take. A desperate sound that was almost a growl rose deep in Mulder’s throat and he quickly joined her. How she relished that feeling of him coming, the throbbing contractions at his base, vibrating his shaft to fill her hot and fast. 

He kissed her slowly, gently, his swollen lips brushing over hers again and again, pushing against them so his tongue could caress hers. A smile grew at the corners of his mouth as his lips softly departed. “Did you miss me?” he asked, smug and rhetorically. He headed to the bathroom and called out, “You’re not going to come and go, are you?”

Unbeknownst to him, Scully had already picked up the crumpled clothes at her feet and dressed. She wanted to say something, but she had nothing to say. She didn’t want to discuss it, she just wanted to leave. So she left, Mulder calling her name from the bedroom. She knew she was running from something she had to soon face, but what was she to tell him? That depression filled her the moment it was over until she was drowning in it? That the ineffectual absurdity of the act plummeted down like a cement block tethered to her ankle, sending her deeper towards the bottom until she was unable to see any daylight? The button of the elevator lit as her manicured nail caused it to recede. The floors denoted their names with each illuminated number and Scully’s shoe began to tap as if it might move it along. Nervously, she felt for her keys. When she didn’t feel the cold metal or hear their familiar jingle she checked her other pockets, over and over. Digging and patting. Shit. They must have fallen out on the floor in Mulder’s apartment. The hallway felt as if it had stretched walking back to number 42, her heels rapping a foreboding echo. The loud churning above the groaning radiator pipes she soon realized was the nerves of her stomach. 

The door not yet locked by Mulder, she turned the knob hoping to sneak them out, but Mulder poked his head from the kitchen. “I’m heading to bed, suddenly I’m feeling very drained,” he said, his tongue bulging the side of his right cheek.

Not quite sure how to proceed she followed him into the kitchen and watched him pour himself a glass of water from the faucet. Even though years had passed since his episode of grand hallucinations, he still hesitated right before he let it slide down his throat. He took another glass from the cabinet. “Water?”

Scully shrugged and Mulder filled it. The glass cool in her hand. He left her in the kitchen and paused before opening his bedroom door, turning his head to lock their eyes and send an irresistible electric pulse to her heart. “Coming?”

*

Scully woke to the rising and falling of Mulder’s chest against her back, their breaths falling naturally in unison. They were clasped to each other, Mulder sharing his body heat as easy as he shared his heart. Yet she felt like poison ivy covered her skin, and an invisible belt cinched at her neck. Lately, her eyes fluttered open in the mornings to his embrace or thoughts of him, his work dominated her, every opinion, hypothesis and theory, challenged and cross referenced by his own beliefs, and at night her body craved him, and in her dreams her mind played in a future it dared not venture in the light. Mulder had leaked in every crack and crevice of her life. 

Like a wolverine or stealth fighter jet, Scully stealthily snuck out of Mulder’s apartment without him stirring. By the time she drove across town and showered, she was already late. She picked out another turtleneck sweater, they were both tearing through their collections given their propensities to play Dracula on each other’s neck. Luckily there was never any exsanguinating, just a few bursted capillaries between good friends. Last night she didn’t recall either of them doing an imitation of a Hoover, but she preferred not to take her chances. Shuffling into her coat at 8:50am meant Mulder would have to cover for her if Skinner decided to request their assistance. Before even stepping into the hallway, a newspaper caught her eye. One she did not subscribe, but what grabbed her attention was the photograph and the article about God’s healing power. Down the hallway she scanned, but she was the only one blessed with the paper and no paperboy to thank.

Hours later, Scully returned to the office having met the miracle boy and his family, and the cigarette smoking man looking for a light and salvation. Mulder hadn’t returned, and most likely, if she had to guess, had gotten caught up with The Lone Gunman trying to trace the email address it all had originated from. That probably took them into who knows how many directions and conspiracies. She didn’t pick up the phone to dial Mulder and tell him of the experience she had this morning. Something stopped her. Was it that she wanted to deal with this issue without his overbearing perspective, or that she feared the Smoking Man might hold true to his threat of dying with the technology, or perhaps she was rebelling, their relationship smothering her as she struggled to understand how to live the rest of her life knowing now she would not bear children. 

Not wanting to deal with any of those possibilities, she picked up the phone. Then hung it up. That might not be wise to call him directly if it was a setup. Instead, she traced the number to see for herself where evil resided. 

The Smoking Man had not lied to her about Samantha being dead. Not this time around anyway. She believed him that he was dying after seeing him a few times. Was it that far fetched that at his deathbed he decided to leave those that remained a cure for cancer? Was it that unbelievable that he trusted her with the science and not Mulder? Armed with a wire and a need for her own answers she dialed the phone and left a message on Mulder’s machine full of half truths. It was a family emergency after all. She just didn’t say specifically which side of the family.

Mulder’s voice rang true into her answering machine, beckoning her with throaty emotion. It felt like utter betrayal to leave him in the lurch and plan a weekend getaway with his arch nemesis. It was almost like something outside of her body was driving her.

*

“Hello.” Mrs. Scully answered her phone and Mulder felt the pangs of dread if she didn’t know where Scully really was. The last thing he wanted to do was have her worrying, but he had to know.

“Mrs. Scully,” Mulder replied, “It’s Mu-Fox. How are you?”

“I’m just fine Fox, is everything okay? And please, call me Maggie.”

“Scully had left a message on my answering machine about a family emergency?”

“She did? That’s odd. No. I spoke with her two days ago. I asked her about you, did she tell you?”

“Not yet, but thank you. So you haven’t seen or spoken with Scully yesterday or today?”

“No. Do you think she is in trouble?”

“She didn’t answer her cell phone when I called, but she left a message on my answering machine saying she would be gone for a few days.”

“That is strange. She didn’t tell me anything about it. If I hear from her you’ll be the first to know.”

“It’s just not like her to lie to me.”

“It’s not another man, if that’s what you’re concerned about. There’s only you Fox.”

Mulder chuckled. “Thanks. My mind is at ease.”

“Just give her a little time, she’ll come around.”

“Okay, Maggie. Thanks.”   

 

Two Days Later..

How could she be so naïve? Three whole days. No contact. To discover she willingly went with him . Spent the night. His fists clenched against the steering wheel, he was a time bomb about to explode. He took a breath to calm himself. “Scully, I know you had good intentions.” He sent his tongue hard into his cheek, then wet his lips, shook his head. “I know how convincing he can be.” He gritted his teeth and wrung the plastic at the steering wheel. “I know all about believing his lies. I just- I wish you would have come to me.”

“I already explained to you that I couldn’t.” She looked at him and he nodded, sending his tongue back tight into his cheek. “This was something I felt I had to pursue,” she added, then looked back out the passenger window at the darkening sky. They were only a couple miles from her apartment. A few more traffic lights and they’d be there.

Hm. He squirmed in his seat and fought to keep his cool. “I would imagine. It’s a doctor’s dream to be able to cure any patient.” He paused and stopped himself from rolling his eyes. “For you to have that kind of power. Perhaps he knows you better than I thought he did.”  Mulder breathed in sharply, and held it a few seconds, shaking his head, then spewed, “Then again, you two have been seeing a lot of each other lately.”

Scully sat quietly, crossing her legs so that her back was almost to him. Her eyes were daggers, but she kept them pointed at the window. He instantly regretted his words, but he also couldn’t help but think, what if something irreversible had happened? Dammit he always had to push it. “You said he had inflammation on the brain?” he asked, trying to change the subject. 

Scully’s face softened and she sent her eyes to her lap. “Yes, from the brain surgery. He said he only has months to live. Sounds like the surgery was less than successful.”

“Unless it was too successful,” Mulder added. He tapped his fingers against the steering wheel. They should change the subject. “I read the emails between yourself and Cobra. At least The Smoking Man and Cobra. Cobra had quite a crush on you.”

“What?” Now she turned to face him.

“Yes, and the correspondence made it sound as though you might reciprocate.”

“Mulder, I knew nothing..”

“I know.. but for a split second, I almost believed that you did.”

“That must have been difficult.”

Mulder said nothing. Deciding against mentioning that once The Lone Gunman proved her email had been hijacked, his next picture in his mind was her being held against her will. How wrong he had been.  

“Mulder,” Sculled said, laying her hand on top of his, softening his edges. “Why am I still alive?”

He sighed and squeezed her hand. “I really believe the plan was for you to be killed. I think he looked into your eyes and it was just as you said. He longed for something he could never have. You made him a better person.”  He took his eyes off the road to look into her own. “I know how you’re able to do that.” He sighed again and looked up at the sky to see the stars still shining, blurring as his eyes welled up. He wanted to hold her close and push her away simultaneously.

Read more here

[herding-octokittens]

Tumblr is being Tumblr (or maybe my computer is being weird) so I can’t do a fancy link, but here it is! Mechtober prompt 4: vampires! 13 days late!

ao3

Raphaella La Cognizi had spent millenia exploring what the universe had to offer. She had spent millenia traveling with her crew, her friends, to see as much as she could. She had spent millenia unearthing and discovering everything she could get her hands on. She had spent millenia on learning what others had deemed unknowable.

She was positive she knew more than anyone else could ever know, than anyone else would ever know. She was positive that even though she had so much more to find, she had already found more than anyone else.

It was three days until their next planetfall, and Raphaella had spent nearly a year of travel studying her newest fixation. 

Most of what she knew was based on outdated information from Earth and a few vague references from nearby planets. Best as she could tell, the species in question was either entirely fictional, or very, very extinct. Any space faring technology they may have had was long since lost. They had likely traveled to at least two systems, as the old stories and histories were widespread yet consistent. Most interestingly, they appeared to be immortal, or at least extremely long lived. For all the people she had met who wished for and reached for immortality, none (save her friends) had actually ever achieved it. A species that was naturally that long lived was well worth her interest.

Given how much of the information came from well before her time and the other side of the universe, Raphaella had decided that inquiring into the others’ knowledge would be worth her while.

~~~

“So, what are your thoughts on vampires?” Raphaella thought the question was innocent enough.

As she was quick to discover, it wasn’t.

Jonny choked on his drink, quickly turning to the sink to avoid spitting everywhere. Nastya fell out of the vent she had been relaxing in with a startled yelp, crushing the Toy Soldier, who had been attempting to bake cookies. Tim had immediately looked up from his latest incendiary device, fixing Raphaella with a solid glare mixing hatred and incredulous surprise in equal parts. She was half convinced his eyes were about to burn holes through her skull. Ashes, who had been casually leaning against the bar, attempting to mix a drink that would actually kill them in one go, burst out in pained laughter as they slid to the floor.

“I take it they’re real, then.”

Ashes continued laughing as everyone else attempted to regain their bearings. Even the Toy Soldier seemed flustered.

“You’re asking-” They cut off with a choked giggle. “You’re asking if vampires-” Another giggle, this time less repressed. “You’re asking if vampires are real?” The incredulity in Ashes’s question made Raphaella recoil, wings rustling behind her.

“Well, yes. The lore on them is sparse, but I figured given how many alternate dimensions and time jumps-”

“Jonny, Nastya, she’s asking if vampires are real!” Ashes had turned to the First Mate. “You lot heard it too, right?”

Jonny tried to wheeze out a response, but his face had gone rather blue as he continued trying to cough up whatever it was he was still choking on. Nastya merely grunted in what may have been humor, still lying atop the Toy Soldier. Tim was the first to actually verbalize a response.

“I heard it too, Ashes,” he replied, voice stiffly neutral. After a brief moment of consideration, he turned a question to the Science Officer. “Why on Earth do you think we would know if vampires are real?”

This was too much for Nastya, who burst into tears of laughter. The Toy Soldier, who for all appearances had resigned itself to remaining crushed under Nastya, joined the laughter.

“I mean, you’ve all been alive and travelling for quite a bit longer than I have, and everything I’ve found points to the species being extinct but rather widespread, so I figured you might have encountered some in the past. Or the future. Or a parallel dimension. Whenever.” She paused, taking a deep breath. “So, are they real? Have you met any?”

Jonny chose that moment to finally choke to death, so her question was accentuated by a loud thump as his body fell limp. Ashes had managed to climb back up to lean on the bar, but was once again laughing too hard to be functional. Tim hadn’t taken his eyes off of Raphaella, but she thought he was beginning to crack a smile. Nastya and the Toy Soldier had begun extricating themselves, each covered in flour and egg. This process was made difficult by Nastya’s tendency to collapse every time she began to laugh again. The Toy Soldier, expression as unreadable as ever, appeared to be attempting to join in the humor.

Raphaella couldn’t tell if this was the whole peer pressure thing they’d been working on with it, or if it actually found the situation entertaining.

“I really can’t tell if that is a yes or a no, guys.”

“It’s a-” Tim’s careful neutrality gave way to a cough that was almost certainly stifling his own giggles. “It’s a-” Another cough. “Oh, God, I’m not gonna be able to say it with a straight face.” A coughing fit this time. Raphaella frowned.

“It’s a binary question. Vampires are real. Yes or no? This really shouldn’t be that difficult.”

“I know! I just still can’t get over the fact that you’re asking if vampires are real!” Ashes wheezed. Raphaella wasn’t sure how they could run out of oxygen, but they had made a pretty damn good effort at it. “Vampires! Of all the things!”

That was evidently enough to break Tim, who almost immediately fell off the couch he had been precariously balanced on. His bomb came with him, landing on his stomach with a satisfying thunk, cutting off his choked laughs.

“You all are the least helpful- you know what? I’ll go ask Ivy. Save myself the trouble of dealing with you lot.” Raphaella turned away from the rec room and began to stalk away.

Behind her, she heard the scrambling of four people and one thing frantically trying to get up and follow. She didn’t dignify them with an acknowledgement, until Tim appeared in her peripheral vision, bomb in hand.

“So… You’re gonna ask Ivy?” His mask of apathy was long since replaced with manic humor.

“Yes.”

“Can you wait for like, three minutes, while I go find Brian?” Raphaella turned to glare at Tim. “Please? He’ll want to be there.”

“No.” Raphaella turned back to face forwards, and picked up her pace.

“Ugh, fine. Be back in a bit,” Tim shouted from down another hall as he sprinted off. A few smothered giggles sounded from behind her from the four others in her wake. 

“I really don’t get why this is such a funny question, and I really don’t like being played for a fool,” Raphaella stated, trying to gauge their responses. From the squelching sound, she would guess Nastya or Ashes had stabbed Jonny. A second squelching sound and sudden thump implied it was both of them, and that Jonny was currently dead. A muted conversation between Nastya and the Toy Soldier confirmed her thoughts. The conversation was followed by the sound of heavy running as they all attempted to catch back up to her, Jonny presumably flung over the Toy Soldier’s shoulder.

“If I’m being honest, I doubt Ivy will be able to answer you any better than us,” Nastya said, attempting conversation. Ashes snorted behind the two of them.

“Are you saying she won’t know, or that she won’t tell?” Raphaella cursed her curious nature. She had now failed twice at not talking to the others.

“Hmm, the second. She may not be as scientifically oriented as you, but she’s got an air-tight memory. I don’t think she’s ever forgotten anything. Ever. Not since-” Nastya cut off with a stifled cough. “Not since the doctor-” Nastya had to pause again, and Raphaella groaned. “Not since the doctor replaced her brain- Tim was right! I can’t do this with a straight face!” Nastya cried as she burst into laughter once again, falling back to laugh along with the Toy Soldier and Jonny, who appeared to have finally woken up.

“You can all go jump out the airlock,” Raphaella called over her shoulder as she made the last turn towards the library. “Just, fuck off into the void. You’d be just as helpful floating lifeless as you are right now.”

“I found him!” Any response from her followers was cut off by Tim’s triumphant shout, echoing down a corridor a few meters ahead. “I got Brian! And Marius. He just kinda tagged along. But Brian’s the important one. And I got him.” Tim exited the side passage just as Raphaella passed by. True to his word, Brian’s wrist was held tightly in his hand and Marius popped out a few seconds later, confusion etched into his features. “You haven’t asked Ivy yet, right?”

“Go die in a hole.”

“Charming as ever, Raphaella. And I’ll take that as a no.”

“You still haven’t told me what I’m doing here,” Brian groaned as Tim dragged him along. “We’re flying through enough gravitational variation right now that I really should be up on the bridge-”

“No, you’ll want to be here for this,” Nastya interjected. “It’s going to be worth it.”

Brian hummed noncommittally, but didn’t pull away from Tim’s grip. Raphaella rolled her eyes and continued stomping on towards the library.

As she finally, finally, reached the open door, Raphaella tried not to breathe a sigh of relief. Ivy would understand her curiosity. Ivy would be able to help her research. Her library was, after all, the largest and most complete in existence. Ivy would be able to answer her question.

“Ivy? Are you here?” she called out. “I need your help!”

“Raph? What’s the problem?” The archivist appeared from around a corner that none of the rest had even realized was a corner, causing at least two of them to jump. She paused, eyes scanning the entirety of the crew crammed into the small welcome area. “And why did you bring so many people?”

“I have a question. I have already asked Jonny, Nastya, Tim, Ashes, and the Toy Soldier, and they have been murderously unhelpful.”

“But not Marius or Brian.”

“Hmm, no. They weren’t in the room when I first broached the topic, and I have since been trying to ignore everyone because they are all being assholes.”

“Fair.”

“Thank you.”

“So,” Ivy hops up to sit on a small desk. “What’s your question?”

“Are vampires real?”

Ivy falls off the desk.

~~~

Raphaella swears to herself to never ask any of the rest of the Mechanisms anything ever again.

[stragglewort]

Uncommon OC Questions! For Ardolf: 1, 2, 14, 18, 33, 38, 45, 50 For Martin: 4, 5, 10, 15, 20, 21, 36, 49 And 25, 41 and 43 for both! ＼(＾▽＾)／

Whoa, that’s a lot. You always know exactly how to pander to me. I’ll do my best! These are probably going to be some pretty long answers, though. 

________________________________________________________________

First up, Ardolf:

1.) A little-known talent of your OC?

Hm, for Ardolf? It would probably be his ability to work with children. Like, if he had been in a modern setting, he probably would’ve gone into family medicine or pediatrician work. Though he’s not a terribly charismatic person, he is pretty soft and fatherly and has high-key adopted nearly every child we’ve come across in the D&D campaign I use him as a character in. 

Otherwise? Whistling. He’s really good at whistling.

2.) What trait does your OC like best about themself? (Eyes, guitar skills, random bird facts, etc)

He’s extremely proud of his practical doctoring skills. Though he’s learned healing magic and divination now that he’s gotten older and wiser, he grew up in the Greymouth Clan – a house of human doctors and surgeons that almost specifically worked with hands-on medicine. Give him some bandages, some leaves, and a bit of elbow grease and he can patch you just as well as any spell! (Though maybe it’ll take a bit longer. He really just wants to be as helpful as possible, even after he can’t cast anything).

14.) Happy birthday! What kind of present would your OC want?

Anything from the heart! It could be a song, a poem, a letter, or even a neat looking rock. He hasn’t celebrated his own birthday for years and just the gesture of someone remembering would probably make him tear up. Had he been a bit younger, freshly baked sweet or herb bread would’ve been his jam! That’s only changed in the recent years because, you know, lycanthropy makes eating that sort of thing real difficult.

18.) Something that makes your OC laugh without fail? Carved pumpkins, gourds, and really anything that has a face when it probably shouldn’t.

Like, a goofy face? A scary one? A half-baked monstrosity that could barely count as a Jack-O-Lantern? Doesn’t matter, it’ll get him every time.

33.) A song that reminds you of your OC?

There’s too many to choose! Probably Kind Folk – instrumental by Kenny Wheeler and Brian Dickinson, Secunda by Jeremy Soule (from the Skyrim soundtrack), or The Bygone Days from Porco Rosso. Kind of just dependent on the scene!

38.) Random thunderstorm! How does your OC react?

He’d probably around and watch it go by. The thunder gets a little uncomfortably loud, considering his hearing is all lycanthropic, but something about rain and a nice mist reminds him of home at the times when he’s farthest away.

45.) What kind of self-esteem does your OC have?

A very poor one!

Though he does try to keep his chin-up, as he’ll say, the first word that would pop in his head to describe himself would be something like ‘monster’ or ‘creature’. Though his lycanthropy is something he wasn’t born with, and he’s spent a good portion of his life fighting against it, he’s begrudgingly settled on the idea that it’s a part of him he cannot control. And that tends to be a bit of a bummer sometimes! Though he tries to, he has a very difficult time separating the wants of the curse with his own – and though he’ll say he and the beast are two different beings (and ultimately, he’s right) he worries, deep down, if that might not truly be the case.

50. What is your OC’s happy place?

On the top of a mountain somewhere – close to his family – close to his friends – watching the clouds of morning mist roll across the peaks. Mostly anywhere safe, warm, and together with people he cares about.  

________________________________________________________________

On to Martin!

3.) Is your OC good at keeping secrets?

Hahaha, no. 

He certainly tries! But if he gets off on a nervous tangent (which is about 60%-85% of his dialogue) he has a tendency to overshare. Quiiite a bit.

4.) Your OC’s worst habit?

He cannot keep quiet. Half of the time he’s speaking, he’s usually not even sure what he’s saying! But boy will he say it. And he’ll say it in staggering, stuttering bulk. See above.

10.) Would your OC prefer to live in the city, the suburbs, or the country?

He has no idea. The suburbs?

A close-knit community, nice, quiet, everyone-knows-everyone and that means everyone knows who he is and maybe they’ll use that to catch him off guard. 

The city? 

So many people that he’d be faceless, could be safe! But also very, very unsafe. Notoriously unsafe. Wait, doesn’t he live in a city? If something happened would authorities even have time to help him? What if there’s so many people that they gang up on him? Hold on.

The country?

That’s isolated, safe, lovely – but what if it’s so isolated that if something bad happened no one would hear him calling! What if his neighbors were strange and odd, then what would happen? He’d be stuck with them! And the land prices!

If he’d have the choice, he’d probably live in a Minecraft house. On peaceful.

15.) Something that grosses your OC out?

Ironically, considering he’s a vampire spawn, blood! He’s super, extremely squeamish and cannot stand the stuff.

20. An obscure/ridiculous fear your OC has?

Honestly if you talked it up right, you could convince this poor man to fear anything. I cannot pinpoint just one. (Though high-key, reality television. He knows it’s usually fake, but what if it wasn’t? What if someday he’s just trying to watch TV or go grocery shopping and all of a sudden a camera crew shows up Truman Show style? Horrifying.)

21.) Does your OC have any type of disability, whether it be mental, physical, etc?

Mhm. Overarchingly he suffers pretty majorly from Post-Traumatic-Stress-Disorder (something that I plan to cover/work with pretty majorly in the stories) and Generalized Anxiety Disorder (something he had been working with since before the whole vampirism thing). After the vampiric attack/turning, he also has some unnamed disorders he’s working with (I, as the author, have applied them as symptoms of his pseudo-vampirism, and didn’t want to apply real-world diagnosis to avoid some really poor misguided diagnostic attempts!) such as a whole lotta’ paranoia and general poor-coping with being a half-undead. He also has some pretty major ticks (specifically an eye twitch he, for the life of him, cannot get to stop).

36.) Your OC’s favorite fashion era? (20’s, 70’s, etc)

I’d say 90s grunge. But that’s kind of a stretch, and probably more of an excuse to not futz with his hair and wear clothes three times his size. 

49.) Your OC’s most prized possession?

:･ﾟ☆✧ The friendship he creates with the other Ghoul Parade protagonists :･ﾟ☆✧

In his apartment (which, mind you, is extremely cluttered and it the apartment equivalent of that Pepe Silvia picture) he has a small battery powered waterfall set up on what used to be his kitchen counter. It has a frog at the top that spits water into small pots that then pour into each other, and if he presses a button it’ll turn on some very soft LED lights. That. That is one of his most prized possessions.

29.) Someone does something awful in front of your OC. How do they handle it?

That depends on what sort of awful we’re talking about. He instinctively wants to help – to really help – and will go as far as putting himself into a hypothetical (or literal, who knows!) line of fire if someone’s really in danger. Though smaller things, in more everyday situations, he usually finds himself freezing up.

________________________________________________________________

And now, for both!

41. Does your OC like/make puns?

Yes. Absolutely. Without a doubt.  

43. Your OC wakes up with a coin super glued to their forehead. How do they react?

Ardolf would probably spend the whole morning trying to pry it off, before either succeeding or just giving up and asking one of his friends to help. To which they’d probably have no better luck. He wouldn’t be angry with whoever did it! More just kind of flustered until ultimately laughing it off. 

And Martin probably wouldn’t notice for some time (he doesn’t really keep any mirrors in his house. He can very-well see himself in them, but something about the connection they have to vampire lore makes him uneasy) and wouldn’t notice until someone pointed out. He’d then drop everything and take hours trying to figure out how someone got into his house to put a coin on his head. Why they did it. What kind of coin it was. If it was really, actually a coin. All to probably learn that he somehow did it himself in some freak minor mishap. Yes, that’s absolutely what he would do. 

[swiftlymoniquesblog]

Crossing Parallel Lines- Sam Winchester x Reader: Chapter 8

Warnings: Angst, sadness, cute boyfriend! Sam (again. I mean he’s just a big teddy bear) tooth-rotting fluff, mention of Jensen Ackles (cause ya know, he’s a “different person”)

A/N: I do not own any rights to Tangled but I thought this quote was perfect for this chapter. Sam and the Reader are just adorable and that I love you quote always stood out to me.

Word Count: 1569

                                                         Author’s POV

After the long drawn out conversation with Sam about whether or not to stay, and some research into the matter, you made your decision. Was it perfect? No, but it could fulfill the desires of both you and Sam.

“Hey, can I talk to you?” You text Sam and the same to Dean, asking if they would meet with you. They both had been away for the first half of the day so you wanted them home for this.

“Of course, baby. Where do you wanna meet?” Sam texted back.

“Come home?” The fact that you call the Bunker your home, made Sam smile and feel all warm inside. Dean would joke saying that you two are practically living out a chick flick but he didn’t care; he was in love.

“We’ll be there as soon as possible. I love you.”

“I love you, more.”

“I love you most.”

                                      “Isn’t that some quote from a Disney movie or something?” Dean asked from the driver’s seat as he snuck a glance at his brother’s phone.

“Oh, and you know that how?” Sam questioned.

“Just a guess. It sure sounds all cheesy and overly chick-flick-like so.” He answered with a shrug.

“Well if you must know, it’s from Tangled, one of y/n’s favorite movies.” Sam defended himself and his girlfriend. Not that they owed Dean any kind of explanation to their relationship, but any way to end the uncomfortable conversation.

“So, what do you think she wants to talk about?” Dean asked, changing the subject.

“I’m not sure but I think it’s serious. I mean, she hardly ever texts when we’re on hunts unless it’s urgent.”

“Trouble in paradise?” Dean quirks an eyebrow with this question.

“Not at all. I just hope she’s okay. I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to her.”

“You’re really crazy about this girl, aren’t you?”

“I love her man. I never thought I would in the lifetime, you know with the hunting and what not but she gets it, man. She sees it and offers good ideas. She knows I guess mostly from that TV show in her world but, it works most of the time.”

“I know. I see the way you are with her and how you look at her; it’s gross.” Dean teases.

“Shut up,” Sam says, pink dusting his cheeks.

“Nah man, I’m happy for you. I really like y/n. I think her and I could be good friends. But if you hurt her, I’ll take her side and be sure to kick your ass.”

“Really? You’d take her side over mine?”

“Yes. Do you see that girl? She wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

“No, she could but she’d feel bad about it later.” Both brothers laughed at how differently you saw the world than they did. They usually had to deal with the dark and grim and the sadness; the evil of the world. But you always saw the positive side of every situation. Making jokes with the boys, always wearing bright clothes to lighten up their days. You’d be sure to add sweet smells around the Bunker, whether with baking or wax melts and even yourself and the variety of perfumes you’d wear. You brought a different essence to their lives and they loved you for it.

About thirty minutes had passed and you heard the sound of the doors shutting to the Impala. Not being able to control your excitement anymore, you bound up the stairs and out the front door, quickly rushing over to the parked car, jumping on Sam as soon as you were close enough to him.

“Oof.” He said as the breath in his body was knocked out of him just slightly.

“I missed you!” You say, nuzzling your nose in his neck, inhaling the scent you missed the most.

“I missed you too, baby girl.” He whispered back, still holding you close. “You know I can get used to these homecomings, as long as you’re here to greet me.”

You frowned just the slightest bit but Sam took notice.

“What’s the matter?” He says, putting you down.

You shake your head and take his hand. “Let’s go talk about that.” You kiss his lips quickly and help him and Dean with their bags. Heading inside and down to the main living area, Sam and Dean both sitting across the map table from you so you could look at them both.

“So, I asked you guys here because I’ve made my decision.” You could see it on his face almost immediately; Sam was nervous.

“I decided that I will go back home. There is a lot that I need to do back in my world and I’ve already overstayed my welcome. I can’t just spontaneously leave everything behind; I’m more sensible than that.” Frowns covered the faces of both brothers and the guilt you felt for this decision, almost became unbearable.

“But there is something else. When I came over here, I did not expect to gain a best friend and even more importantly, a boyfriend. I didn’t know where I was going to go when I said that spell but I wanted to take that chance. And yeah, it is a bit crazy, you guys are fictional characters in my world. That doesn’t matter though because you’re real here. Sam and Dean, Dean and Sam, the brothers who save people and hunt things; the family business! Which is just a catchphrase and the business of one of the guys who plays you on TV, in my world. You two took my heart and I don’t think I’ll be getting it back anytime soon, right?” You smile at the still-sullen boys before you.

“With all this being said, and we can verify it with Rowena, I’d like to come back here, as much as possible. I crossed through parallel lines to get here the first time and I’ll have to go back but why not do it more often? I mean, there’s nothing that says it had to be just a one-time thing, right? I’m sure I can come back and forth as many times as I want to. And that way, Sam and I can still be together and Dean, we’ll still be best friends. What do you guys say?”

Sam pushed his chair back from the table and walked around it to join you. He looked down at you with a sad look that never left his face, fingers gliding under your chin to pull your face up to look at him.

“Sweetheart, that usually doesn’t happen with spells. Once you do it, you can’t do it again. That’s always how it’s been and I’m afraid that’s what’s going to happen here. Rowena will tell you she can’t do anything to bend the rules of lore that has been around for centuries.”  Sam says and as his words sink in, you don’t believe them.

“No! No, Sam, I won’t accept that! There has to be something we can do where I can live in my world and live in this one and come and go as much as I want. I can’t just give everything up but I can’t leave you either. I can’t; I won’t. Sam, please, you, what are you saying? Are you just giving up on us that quickly? Not even trying to see if Rowena could do something different? She’s one of the most powerful witches ever to exist; she’s gotta know something!

“Sam’s right kid, it’s almost always a one-and-done situation. I don’t think there’s any way around it.” Dean chimed in.

“You’re giving up on this too?” You spin around to look at Dean with the same disbelief you were looking at Sam with.

“We’re not giving up on you, sweetheart.” Dean defends.

“It sure sounds like you are, both of you! I knew I shouldn’t have come here; I hate you guys!” You yell, rushing out to your room.

“Y/N!” Sam calls after you but Dean stops him.

“Give her some space, man. She’s really upset and I don’t think either one of us could comfort her right now. She said she hates us.”

“She doesn’t really hate us, Dean. But you’re right; now’s not a good time. I just had to tell her the truth. I can’t let her go off and believing something that isn’t true.”

“I know but maybe…What if Rowena could do something?” Dean suggested.

“What? Dean we both know spells aren’t repeatable; never have been.”

“But this is one we’ve never seen or even heard of before. Until she came, we didn’t know there was another world out there besides this one. And then she came and took over our lives in the best possible way and you fell madly in love with an amazing girl. You can’t just give up on her!” Dean spoke, raising his voice at the end.

“Believe me, Dean, that is the LAST thing I will ever do. I won’t ever give up on her nor will I ever love someone as I love her. I will do everything in my power to stay with her, no matter the cost to me. If I have to make a deal, fine. If I have only a short time left, I want to spend that with her. And I won’t stop until she is in my arms again. Get Rowena on the phone; now.”

Tags: @simpleb00x​ @fandom-princess-forevermore​ @lilulo-12​ @juju-la-tortue @marvelfansworld​ @grace15ella​ @hunting-the-grievers​

[meteor752]

A Swedish Christmas

So now that Christmas time is near and I’m officially out on the internet doing shit, I’ve come to realize how strange my countries traditions are, compared to for example Americans.

I am Swedish, which I’ve mentioned a few times and it says “Swedish” in the title so it’s hard to miss, and our beloved cold country is really weird around Christmas.

Now, I am aware of the fact that other countries do weird stuff too, but I only know these traditions and I know that they are ridiculous. So let me take you through the Christmas here in good ol’ Sweden, my dear American and everything else (I’m not going to ramble up 189 different countries).

Oh, and before we start, Christmas in Sweden is Jul, just so ya know.

So in September (Yes, you read that right, September) stores start selling a drink called Julmust. Julmust is honestly a pretty bland drink that mostly tastes like water with a bit of sugar and darkness, but everyone loves it and drinks tons of it every Christmas. This exact drink is also sold around easter, where it’s called Påskmust, and there’s no difference between the two but it’s still sold as two different drinks.

When December finally rolls around and you’ve drunk this drink for three months and are already sick of it, you buy a choklad Kalender. A choklad Kalander is a piece of cardboard with a picture on a santa and a reindeer most of the time, and inside it is the worst chocolate you will ever taste, and you eat one piece of it for 24 days.

They also start showing the Jul Kalender, where they play a ten-minute episode of a show consisting of 24 episodes until Christmas eve, with a nowadays horribly written story and the worst child acting you will ever find. Call me nostalgic, but it was better when I was a kid. This year Jul Kalander is how kids have stopped believing in Santa because the parents dress up like him instead, so the current Santa has to make everyone believe in him again, together with his wife who is played by Swedish Kris Jenner and the two kids both with Jul themed names.

This is also the time when you start baking, and god we bake a lot.

There’s Lussekatter, a bun formed like an S that consists of 90% saffron and if you would ask me tastes horrible, Havreflarn that makes you mouth drier than the Sahara, Knäck that you always fail with doing so it’s either so hard that it will crack your teeth or so soft that it gets stuck in the paper and Skumtomtar. If you have ever gone to a school ever, you have probably eaten about a hundred Skumtomtar each Christmas because they are cheap and small, so ever teacher hands them out all the time.

And then there’s Lucia. Lucia is probably the weirdest tradition we have here, and the reason I wanted to make this post. It is taken from Italy (What???), and I won't go too deep but basically on the 13th December everyone dresses in white nightgowns and sing about Jesus.

Alright I will go a little deeper than that, though it might sound confusing.

So in a Lucia tåg (Which it is called), there are three traditional roles. 

The Tärna is what the girls are. A tärna has the nightgown, they have glitter in their hair and around their waist and they hold a candle in their hand. Simple, right???

The boys are Stjärngossar. A Stjärngosse also has the nightgown, though instead of glitter they have a cone with three stars on their head, and a star on a flower stick in their hand. They also have a specific song called “Staffan Var En Stalledräng” that has nothing to do with them.

In front of all the Stjärngossarna and Tärnorna is the Lucia, often a blonde girl (Though the real Lucia was dark-haired, but nowadays they always have bright hair). The Lucia has the nightgown as well, but on the top of her head there’s a crown of candles and around her waist a red band that is supposed to represent blood, because lore.

(I have to show a picture, because this all sounds ridiculous)

Yeah sometimes there are Santa’s and Gingerbread’s in it too, but not usually. Also The Stjärngossarna are supposed to wear gowns and the Tärnorna are supposed to wear glitter around their waist, but this was the best picture I could find.

Now, what do the Lucia tåg do, you might ask? Well they wake up at 5 AM in the morning, walks around the neighborhood with a tray of Lussekatter and glögg, aka warm juice that tastes disgusting to me, knock on doors and starts to sing maybe like one or two songs, offer the people a Lussekatt and continue their walk.

This is the weirdest shit I can think of, and also why I love my country so god damn much.

So now Lucia’s behind us, and it’s finally Christmas Eve!

Actually no, let’s talk about the 23rd first. On the 23rd, the entirety of Sweden is sitting in their living rooms and playing Bingo on TV, for whatever reason! After that is over, instead of leaving out milk and cookies to Santa, we leave a bowl of Porridge and some Julmust. 

Christmas eve starts out with breakfast where we eat porridge and rhyme to it. Yes, we make rhymes about our porridge. And we are not yet done with the Porridge, nope! In the Porridge we put an almond, and whoever gets the almond gets married the next year. Yeah, we actually do this! We also dip the darkest bread you will ever find in a big saucepan of Hambroth, and then eat it! It’s disgusting I tell you, but tradition!!!

At 3 PM we watch Donald Duck, which is a bunch of Disney Clips that is shown every year since the 1960s, so the clips are really old with really bad quality, and they aren’t in Swedish so a man voices over all the lines in the most monotone voice I’ve ever heard. And you can’t even suggest Skipping Donald Duck, that is fucking tradition and everyone hates you if you do. 

As soon as Donald Duck’s over you eat your god damn Christmas food and drink the Julmust, and after it you just sit around and wait for Santa. Yeah, you heard that right, Santa barges in on December the 24th! And from what I can tell (It’s hard to research this), we’re the only one who does this.

So ayways, some dad or grandpa will say “Well, I have to go buy some milk/newspaper” and it’s always those two. Two minutes later a half-drunk Santa comes in with a weird accent and delivers present after present slowly because the man who acts out Santa pretends to not being able to read for ten seconds and mispronounces your name on purpose, before leaving. 

I’m sorry, but what exactly happened to Santa when he came to Sweden? In every other country he’s like a spy that sneaks into houses and leaves after a millisecond on his magical sleigh with his magical reindeers and yaay!

 Did Santa get stopped by the cops or something the first time he came here?? Or what??

After the presents are opened, all the extended family goes home and you go to bed, and wake up on Christmas day like it’s a normal fucking Sunday. We don’t actually celebrate The 25th here folks, we ignore it! We’re all drunk at this point, either on adrenalin because you can play with your new toys! or on Alcholhol because we drink a lot here.

So yeah, that is Christmas in Sweden, gosh I love my country.

[metalgearkong]

Star Wars Episode IX: The Rise of Skywalker - Review

12/20/19  ** Spoilers

Directed by JJ Abrams (Lucasfilm / Disney)

Among the current social media and the 24 hour advertisement cycle, if you wanted, its possible to piece together much of the plot of this movie, or any big blockbuster these days. Its for this reason I avoided every single piece of media about Star Wars: Episode IX The Rise of Skywalker before I saw it. Even when bombarded with Facebook, Instagram, YouTube, TV ads, and movie previews, I successfully dodged all snippets of the movie in order to be as surprised as possible once I sat down to see it. That night was tonight, and it’s felt like a long and arduous two years since The Last Jedi. Once again I have deeply mixed feelings about a new Star Wars movie, but I enjoyed myself more in The Rise of the Skywalker than I did in The Last Jedi, but not necessarily for shakesperian reasons.

The fans were worried about how The Rise of Skywalker would turn out, and as release day approached, reviews were already negative. I accidentally saw a Rottentomatoes critics score in the mid 20′s, and several videos were already uploaded to YouTube giving away that broad opinion of this film. This concerned me, as even critics liked The Last Jedi, which is one of my least favorite Star Wars movies. I let all of the negativity brush off me like a blaster bolt on Beskar armor. I went into The Rise of Skywalker rooting for it and looking to find every positive it could bring being the ninth main installment of the Star Wars saga. I was also ready for this trilogy to be over so everyone whining online could move on and obsess over something else. In an odd, semi-genuine, and semi-ironic way, I had tons of fun in The Rise of Skywalker, even acknowledging its horribly messy and rushed script.

Each of these Star Wars movies to me is like how a new chapter in the Bible would feel for a Christian, and the theater is my house of worship. The series’ trademark title blasted onto the screen among roaring trumpets, and I was ready. My auditorium applauded as the Star Wars logo shrunk to the background and the opening crawl appeared at the bottom of the screen. Seeing a new Star Wars movie in the theaters is always a holiday for me. Each film is a new addition to the lore of my favorite movie universe of all time, pulling from years as a kid before I can even remember the first time I saw it (thank you parents). This movie had me grinning from ear to ear, bringing out that inner child in me that Star Wars always used to do, something The Force Awakens partially did, and what The Last Jedi failed to do completely.

JJ Abrams continues his pension for fast paced scenes, but somehow still containing a ton of charm. We finally get to see Poe Dameron (Oscar Isaac), Finn (John Boyega), Chewie (Joonas Suotamo), C-3PO (Anthony Daniels) all working together on the same mission. The characters have a ton of charisma between them, and it inspires me to think of the potential for them having been together more often in this trilogy. I enjoyed their quips and didn’t think it got out of control or relied too much on bathos. The first half of this movie moves like a racetrack, as our heroes move from one location to another pursued by the First Order enough to almost make me dizzy. This would turn out to be a running issue with the movie, and if JJ Abrams and the editor would have let each scene go a little slower and last a little longer, it would have been more appreciated.

Kylo Ren (Adam Driver) is the Supreme Leader of the First Order, having murdered and usurped Snoke (Andy Serkis) in the last film, and is on a personal quest to track down what may be the resurrection of Emperor Palpatine (Ian McDiarmid). The movie opens on this note, and having none of it spoiled ahead of time for me, found it to be intriguing and exciting. The Emperor is one of the best and most fleshed out characters in Star Wars, and I was curious to learn how he resurrected. Unfortunately the movie barely gives an explanation and we are simply left with the spectacle of what I call Necro Palpatine. However we do have it explained that Snoke was a mere puppet of Palpatine in some capacity, but we aren’t told to what extent, or any other kind of logical backstory. It both answers and raises more questions simultaneously, about both dark lords.

The Rise of Skywalker also goes out of its way in several places to help explain some of the more controversial elements of the prior film, and I appreciated it as a fan of the series who felt toyed with in The Last Jedi. It’s obviously a wink wink to the audience, but I’d much rather have it than not. Greatest of all was Luke (Mark Hamill) being redeemed, as he admitted he was not only wrong to go hide on the island, but toss his father’s lightsaber over his shoulder. The movie also tries to shoe-in more explanation of what Luke was doing after his Jedi Academy was destroyed, which included trying to find the Sith Wayfinder along with Lando Carissian (Billy Dee Williams). It’s not a great explanation of why Luke disappeared, and I wish this was clearly the plan from the beginning of the trilogy. The Wayfinder is basically a key to get to Exegol where Palpatine is hiding. It becomes Rey (Daisy Ridley) and her friend’s mission to find the Wayfinder, through various means and mcguffins. 

John Williams and the London Symphony Orchestra returns one final time scoring a Star Wars movie. I heard a dozen of his old tracks throughout the film and I had fun naming as many as I could. For how much I love his leitmotifs and listen to his music ad noaseam, whether its giving me an emotional rush during a run or driving on the highway, I couldn’t recall any new music heard in this film. The first thing I did when I got home from the movie was try to download the soundtrack from Spotify but it wasn’t available yet. I still give this movie a big thumbs up for its soundtrack because although it isn’t new, the way Williams’ music is used and where it’s placed gave me goosebumps every time. Hearing Rey’s theme in just the right moments made me happy, and identifying other leitmotifs and variations of them were great to hear.

The acting all around was excellent for a Star Wars movie. Daisy Ridley as Rey is as great as she’s ever been, and the same goes to Adam Driver as Kylo Ren. All the side characters and comic relief did a good job as well. The banter between Finn, Poe, and C-3PO was a treat as well. Tony Daniels continues to be one of my favorite actors in all of Star Wars for conveying as much personality as he does without facial expressions and very limited movement. McDiarmid as Necro Palpatine gets very little screen time, but he’s hamming it up as the evil Emperor he’s always been, and I loved every second of it. I also deeply appreciate that the movie seemed to rely on puppets again, and one of the stand out side characters was a tiny engineer named Babu Frik (Shirley Henderson) who should have had more time in the movie.

The only “yikes” moment I felt was any time we saw Leia. It’s such a tragedy that Carrie Fisher passed away so unexpectedly, and least of all not able to finish this Star Wars trilogy. I listened to her audiobook The Princess Diarist and she seemed so excited, yet nervous, to be yet again the role that made her famous, and to complete episodes 7, 8, and 9. Her face seems to be animated on a stand-in actress, and her only lines were from old footage that was never used in Episode VII or VIII. This means Leia has very little to say in this movie, and probably had a lot less to do in the plot than she deserved to. The CGI simply wasn’t convincing for me and is the only aspect of the movie that put a lump in my throat for all the wrong reasons. On the flip side, Han Solo’s cameo was a terrific scene that also had me teary-eyed. It was a great call back to The Force Awakens, and served a purpose for Kylo Ren’s character. Harrison Ford did a perfect job, and it was just the sort of scene I didn’t know I wanted.

While much The Rise of Skywalker feels hastily cobbled together, and relies on way too many conveniences for the plot to keep moving, I found it to be a very satisfying time. You know that feeling when you’re extremely tired and almost feel drunk, and everything seems hilarious and flippant? That’s how I felt during this entire thing. I could see ridiculous script elements that either contradict or ruin lore left and right, but I think something inside me was just so happy to finally get this trilogy over with. I let the fan service envelop me even if it didn’t make sense or feel justified. Yes Rey is still a Mary Sue, yes we still got an underwhelming lightsaber duel (that she wins), yes there are too many characters, yes the plot and details can be nonsensical, yes this movie needed way more time to bake in the oven. But unlike a Jedi’s weapon, this movie may not be elegant, but it is a cathartic and satisfying experience, which is all I every hoped it would be. Now can we all take a breath and move on?

6/10