#I do think I should get around to the conclusion of Frog's search for her reaper avatar

[elizabethrobertajones]

Really here for Miss Bounding Frog, but I wanted to thank you for becoming a Wyll BG3 appreciation blog. Because while I've no interest in playing the game myself, he's just so charming and lovely and always a joy to have on my dash

You: is today the day I blacklist the bg3 tag? Wyll: *smiles with his whole heart out of a gifset* You: .... naaah he can stay, he seems polite.

You made me realise he and Frog are fairly alike in that I try to go for girlprince in her glams a lot of the time and he's just pure disney prince (but a devil).

(spoilers for BG3 musing on their similarities)

Also I guess their personalities are pretty similar in that they remain genuinely well-meaning heroes after going through it all. Like, the vacation before Dawntrail has been fun but Frog would still absolutely throw herself back into the fire when the self-sacrificing bullshit returns. She slept Endwalker off in a week and then was confused about why the scions were treating her with kid gloves. "Look, I'm upright again! What next??" "Have you tried this adventure called 'retiring to the beach'?"

I know a looot of people have rightfully tired or grumpy WoLs who are completely done with being asked to do things and people Assuming you will be the hero, or being in the crosshairs of the universe, but I did want to write a WoL who was genuinely hype to be here and would take it on the chin with old school heroic stoicism. However gutting everything is she's like, well, we hear-feel-think this trauma and on the other side we understand and respect what it did to us and move on stronger. And then forgive everyone who caused it. (she's very annoying)

Mr Of Frontiers over there had his tragic backstory at 17, a year younger than when Frog started adventuring (intentionally with no tragic backstory, I wanted her to be in it for love of the game) and I'm hypocritically declaring she was more than old enough because I say so and Wyll was a KID just a LITTLE GUY... but also Alphinaud doesn't exist in BG3 thankfully so there's no need to debate when kids should be allowed to be in charge of armies - although I think Alphinaud and Wyll should have a catch up and maybe learn some things about how they were doomed by the narrative together...

Anyway Wyll's various endings aside from the one where you set him up to be a Duke in the city (which I did on my Astarion play since Astarion is marrying him, craves creature comforts, and was presented with not even a persuasion check to decide Wyll's entire future, which is shockingly cruel of the game) he will just go back to adventuring and saving people. Like, a guy who can legitimately retire off the back of everything that just happened and return forgiven or at least as a hero if you did get his dad murdered to not be around to forgive him, and he's like... Actually, the People Need Me, I'm going to go write the next chapter of my life as an itinerant hero killing monsters and swashbuckling all day.

Also, aside from him definitely having whatever's wrong in his brain that Frog has (and Meteor Finalfantasy who is ready to Dawntrail also and is swashbuckling), he does also have the WoLbrain when it comes to Just Saying Messed Up Things. He's so funny and sarcastic and would absolutely fit in with WoLs who pick all the weird dialogue options. WoL can make moogle noises at Thancred? Well, Wyll over here will meow at you.

He also genuinely thinks clowns are funny, and every year the WoL earnestly goes along with a demon clown halloween event so there's that.

[sapphicwhxre]

you

♥︎ pairing: ginny weasley x fem!houseneutral!reader

♥︎ summary: ginny distances herself from you because she thinks you love someone else.

♥︎ requested: yes | no

♥︎ warnings: angst, heartbreak, self hate/comparison, total inconsistency since if you're in the trio’s year you wouldn’t have class with ginny + astoria isn’t in ginny’s year but shush its a fic

pumpkin pasties, chocolate frogs, and all your other favourite treats jumped around in ginny’s bag. the gryffindor girl had gone to help ron woo some mystery girl who he’d taken a liking to and stumbled upon his stash of candies. ginny had called it a fee for her services and decided she’d share her earnings with the girl she loved most, both as a friend and more ─ that girl was you and as far as ginny knew, you were completely oblivious to her feelings.

it was a wednesday afternoon so she could only assume you were having your weekly study session with the gryffindor golden girl herself, hermione granger.

the pep in her step made her red hair bounce on her shoulders, her excitement to see you growing with each one she took. ginny turned the corner, finally at your study spot and she paused. you looked emotional, to put it simply, and you clutched what appeared to be a crumpled piece of parchment that someone had changed their mind about tossing.

there was a nervous gloss to your eyes and ginny thought she should leave, letting you and hermione talk alone. but her curiosity and just the way she cared for you got the best of her.

taking a deep breath and not noticing ginny behind the pillar ─ where she wasn’t so much as hiding, but quietly observing ─ you started to read off of the parchment. “there’s no easy way to say this,” you read clearly, but your shy, quivering smile gave away how you felt about reading what was written. was it a letter? had you written it? “but i love you.”

ginny’s heart stopped. she swallowed thickly, uncertain of how to process the sinking feeling in her chest. you exhaled shakily and smiled, biting your lip and staring down at the words you'd written.

“i love your hair,” you laughed, running your hand over your own nervously. “i love your eyes when you’re happy and the sound of your voice. did you know your nose scrunches when you laugh? it’s adorable. i’ve never met someone who brights up my life like you do. i love how you always know what to say and i love that i can be myself with you. i love your heart, you’re everything i adore. i love when i can look into your eyes because mine fill with the love i’ve only ever felt for you. the only thing more beautiful to me is you. it’s that same look that i’ve never been able to tell if you’ve given me back. my thoughts go cloudy when i’m with you. i love you so much. you’re... you. how could i not have fallen in love with you?"

as she looked at hermione’s angel-like face, ginny felt hot drops of some form of sadness more intense than she even knew possible well up in her eyes. hermione’s lips were parted in awe and she was smiling.

hermione granger, brightest, most beautiful witch of her age. beside you, in ginny’s opinion, but you were right. how could you not have fallen in love with hermione?

you folded up the letter and sighed, no longer reading but still going. “even if you don't love me, it was worth every word. i’ve never regretted anything when it comes to loving you. yours, y/n l/n.”

hermione grinned at you, “that was beautiful, y/n. truly... gods, i didn’t know you had that in you.” ginny fled, not wanting to watch what came next or hear what hermione had to say about how she felt for you. she’d break like the porcelain her skin resembled if hermione said she loved you back... if hermione kissed you, like ginny had only dreamed of.

wiping away the tears that stained her cheeks, she hated herself. y/n loves hermione. she just wished she hadn’t listened. she shouldn’t have fallen for you in the first place or let herself have foolish hope. even more foolish to think she could ever win you over when you could have hermione. older, brighter, and beautiful. she was fool, and now ginny believed had paid the price for it.

but had she stayed only a second longer, she’d have heard hermione’s stunned words. “ginny’s going to love every word, y/n, i know it.” bubbling with nerves, you threw yourself to hug her and squeezed tightly, just as ginny turned to steal one last glance at you. “thank you ‘mione, you’re the best.”

you were inaudible from the distance but there you were in hermione’s arms, giggling and chattering. despite the fact that you were joking about her own crush, ron, the sight only made ginny sick. ginny lost her appetite and made her way to her dorm, instead of the great hall where dinner would be starting in just a few minutes.

the heartbroken girl probably would have thrown up right then and there, had she seen you and hermione walk into the great hall. arm in arm, you were practically shaking with anticipation. of course, she’d incorrectly imagined that you’d be parading in with intertwined fingers and smeared lipstick but through a made up mind, it’d look like all the same.

“where’s gin?” you found a seat next to ron and harry, scanning the table for her red ponytail. through a mouthful of food, ron shrugged and answered, “must have gotten held up.” hermione rolled her eyes with disgust, silently scolding him for his ill manners.

you took the opportunity to tease the two. “never invite me to dinner at your home, save the fighting for your kids.” they both blushed heavily and stammered out how they’d never fancy the other, then immediately spewing out offense at the implication. ron huffed and harry spoke over them, rolling his eyes heavily.

“what about you, y/n? i thought you and ginny would be an item by now,” harry didn't really care either way, but it did seem ridiculous for the two of you to dance around dating for so long, especially since he somewhat saw her as a little sister. and truth be told, everyone was curious about you two.

even ron perked up and hermione smirked knowingly. “leave her alone, it’s none of your business,” she announced.

ron narrowed his eyes and started, “hermione, do you know something?” hurrying to stop them from bickering again, you cleared your throat. “i wrote ginny a letter, laying out exactly how i feel for her. now if you’ll excuse me, i’m going to go find her because i don’t think she’s coming.”

you hopped out of your seat, taking some food for her, and left poor harry alone with the arguing lovebirds to go confess your feelings.

you hummed to yourself, going to knock on ginny’s dorm door. her dorm mate opened the door and looked you up and down, glaring angrily. “what do you want?” she crossed her arms and scoffed. taken aback, you blinked and searched the room for ginny, who was curled up in her bed crying.

“excuse me? get out of my way, i need to see ginny. is she alright?” the girl eyed you, as if scanning you for a lie, and she supposed you were sincere in your concern. “she’ll be fine, just give her some space.”

without another word, the gryffindor slammed the door in front of you and you were left staring at the shut dorm, filled with confusion and a harrowing worry. your hand fell and defeated, you shoved your love letter into your pocket.

you didn’t see ginny the next day in class. or the day after that. she wasn’t talking to any of her brothers, you, or harry and had even turned the other way when you waved her down. it was like she was avoiding you and after a week of it, you came to the conclusion that she must be. ginny’s schedule resided in your mind so you set to confront her after potions. a girl with a mission was a force that should never be reckoned with ─ ginny taught you that.

“it shouldn't be too hard if we get some studying in,” ginny was discussing an upcoming exam with astoria greengrass, a slytherin girl in her year. you rather awkwardly stopped in front of the two and watched them part ways, ginny sending you a scarily pissed off glare. the tension could be cut with a knife and you and ginny blurted at the same time.

“you’re avoiding me!”

“i heard you and hermione!”

anger slipping, ginny avoided your eyes. “well that’s why i’ve been avoiding you. i’m sorry, i know i should be happy for you,” she started to ramble and you stared at her, baffled. happy for you and hermione? “i thought i didn’t care, that i could just push my feelings for you aside. it’s just that when you read that letter to hermione, there was so much... love in your voice. it hurt. i want to be the one you love.”

dumbfounded, you realised that she’d thought the letter was for hermione. “oh fuck, ginny no,” you stumbled, making her step back, assuming you were rejecting her. this wasn’t how you wanted to tell her that you loved her, it was supposed to go better than this. “wait! what i mean is─”

“you made it pretty damn clear what you mean, y/n,” ginny sniffled. “i think it's best if i just─” you cut her off with a kiss. you grabbed her face, kissing her like you’d never tasted something so sweet and you just couldn't get enough. she pulled back, breath heavy on your lips. “but... but hermione,” she whispered and you laughed, eyes fluttering shut and head shaking.

“i was reading it to her to practice on you. it was always for you ginny, it’s always been you.” the smile that you missed all week finally enraptured the lips you’d be kissing as much as you possibly can now that you knew you could. “and besides, she fancies your brother.” ginny thought for a moment and then sighed in embarrassment. but she said nothing as she knew you’d only reassure her and she knew this was how things ought to be.

ginny wrapped her arms around you and melted into your embrace, burying herself in your warmth and tugging you closer ─ though with no distance between you two, the gesture wasn’t very efficient. “so you love me?” she just wanted to hear you say it.

“i love you, ginny.”

“i love you, y/n.”

──────♥︎

[mysteriesofmarcy]

Mystery Monday #4: The Current State of Amphibia

I wanted to talk about the Wartwood Resistance in this space, but I just didn't have that much to say about it. So I'll give you this instead.

I think as Sasha and her forces move closer to the castle, we will see more and more towns in Amphibia and how they are holding out against the king's invasion. We already know that Mr. Ribbiton is partial to the cause. Enemies like Renee and the Hasselback gang might become allies. The olms will definitely play a part. Like in Escape to Amphibia, former friends may come together to become the team of helpers that the world so desperately needs.

So today, I will be going through the friends and enemies we met in season 2, and where they might stand on the current totem pole.

First up, the Hasselback gang. I imagine these guys, much like Mr. X, are still bitter at Hop Pop for ruining their lives. BUT, they are probably suffering under Andrias's iron fist just like everyone else. So, hard to tell what they'll do.

Next, the town of Bittyburg. I like to think they are so small, Andrias can't even see them, so they go on leading their itty bitty little lives without any knowledge of what's going on. However, the second they find out that someone (i.e. Marcy) can't fight for herself, I think they join Mr. Plantar in the effort to save her.

Next up, we have the "truckers" at the truck stop, specifically Soggy Speedy Joe. In both of his previous appearances, he showed up when one of the Plantars felt the need to unnecessarily complicate matters, so I'm guessing the same here. And he took the Plantars out for pancakes and gave them a tow to the next truck stop, so I think it's safe to assume he's on the side of good.

Next, Renee. I'm going to lump her in with the Hasselback gang. Still mad at Hop Pop for getting her arrested, but might help him if she sees an even greater threat. Although, should Andrias discover that he has a prisoner with a vendetta against the Plantars, well...

Then, the rest of the theater troupe. Seems most of them were not in on the robberies (Renee probably told them that was just what they earned in admission), but contrary to Renee's motto, acting is just professional lying so who knows. I mean, Francois didn't really seem to care about much other than whether Sprig and Lydia's acts were believable, so I don't know how he would respond to an actual war.

Mr. Ribbiton did make a delivery of supplies to Wartwood, yes. And despite the problems they had in the last episode, I think his family is officially behind this effort. I could be wrong though. I think it's most likely that there's just that one family member who still refuses to accept that Walliam is really gone now and still has to come around.

The Curator is probably dead, so the new owner of the Curiosity Hut (with no curiosities) is Frog Soos. Maybe he would be an ally if encountered because he has a good heart and he wants to be free from Andrias's control. Maybe not, since thanks to the Plantars, he lost his boss and his business in one fell swoop. Or maybe he turns the Curiosity Hut into Home Base during Andrias's invasion, and eventually into a giant robot capable of fighting Andrias's robot army. You never know.

I purposely left Lysil and Angwin off this list because I wanted to cover them last. The olms that Sprig and Polly encountered in Quarreller's Pass will more than likely show up in the whole "mother of Olms" arc coming up. I think Angwin might be more willing to help because their mom always liked him best, (I had to look that one up on the wiki) I don't know.

So, here's my conclusion:

We know the Plantars are going to find Mother Olm in Proteus soon. I think they have to go find Lysil and Angwin first in order to get directions. So maybe in the episode where they are searching, we get to watch the whole family own Quarreller's Pass. And on the way, we'll get to see some other friends and enemies from season 2, some of whom will likely join in the fight against Andrias.

Tune in next week for part 2 of this theory, which will be about Newtopia and how things have gone for its residents!

And don't forget to submit your theories about season 2's characters under the king's tyrannical rule, as well as your theories about why March 14th necessarily had to be about Marcy!

[onceuponaloonatic]

(i just read most of surrogate au on a road trip i Love) do you want to do chaeyoung is hanging out with jihyo and baby nico but jihyo has to run in for a work thing or smth and so chaeyoung is left alone with nico. chaeyoung however has Zero childcare skills and is so clueless. queue chaeyoung getting nontoxic paint and trying to paint with 2 month old nico, its literally all smears and both are covered in paint from head to toe by the end but sana and jihyo both love it and take one of the "artworks" and frame it.

thank you so much !! sorry for the wait !! also i only have three asks left so if you guys have any ideas please send asks!!

“Who’s the cutest baby in the world? You are.” Jihyo smiled as she tickled Nico’s stomach, earning her a giggle in response. Nico had just started giggling a few days ago, right after her second month of life had officially begun. Needless to say, her parents could not give enough of it. Sana had taken countless videos the first time Nico giggled, and had sent all of them to Jihyo. Now that Jihyo was watching Nico, she couldn’t get enough of her baby girl giggling. “I love you.” Jihyo kissed Nico’s cheek.

“Babe if you give her too much attention she’s going to be spoiled.” Chaeyoung giggled from the couch. She had received most of the videos from Jihyo, and she thought it was adorable how in love with Nico Jihyo was. She also knew her girlfriend needed this time with Nico. She hadn’t been able to spend much time with her lately and Chaeyoung knew it was eating at Jihyo. “I think it’s too late for that.” Jihyo picked Nico up and carried her to the couch where she sat next to Chaeyoung. She quickly settled Nico before leaning into her girlfriend. “You’ve seen how Sana is with her. Sana is like obsessed with Nico.” “Don’t pretend you aren’t too.” Chaeyoung giggled. “You are just as in love with her as Sana is. She’s my competition for your heart.” Chaeyoung smiled when a tiny foot kicked her arm as Nico wiggled in Jihyo’s lap.

“You know I love both of you right? It’s not a competition. I love both of you.” Jihyo nodded, resting her head on Chaeyoung’s shoulder. Chaeyoung’s arm snaked its way around her waist and Jihyo smiled. “I know. Don’t tell Nico though, we have a bet going.” Chaeyoung laughed as Nico’s foot kicked her again. Chaeyoung took her free hand and grabbed Nico’s foot, squeezing her clothed foot. Nico’s toes curled reflexively, gripping onto Chaeyoung's hand while she played with Jihyo’s shirt collar. Their perfect moment was interrupted when Jihyo’s phone rang. Jihyo sighed, moving Nico to one arm to pick up the phone. Chaeyoung squeezed Jihyo’s waist before letting go, moving to take Nico from her girlfriend. Nico giggled as Chaeyoung lifted her up as high as she could before bringing her back in. Jihyo eyed her with an amused smile while she talked on the phone, but it was quickly replaced with a look Chaeyoung knew all too well. “Your boss?” Chaeyoung asked once Jihyo was off the phone. “It’s Saturday. My boss knows I don’t work weekends.” Jihyo sighed. “But there’s an emergency in the case, if I don't fix it we might not be able to get the conviction.” “I get it.” Chaeyoung smiled. “You have an important job. Nico knows that too. I’ve got her, go.” “Thank you so much. I love you. You're the best.” Jihyo gave Chaeyoung a quick kiss before getting up to get dressed. “I know. I’m the best girlfriend in the world. It’s a curse.” Chaeyoung said dramatically. Jihyo laughed as she quickly threw on work appropriate clothes. Once she was dressed she pulled her hair up in a quick ponytail before moving to say goodbye. “Be good for Auntie Chaeyoung Nico.” Jihyo kissed Nico’s chubby cheek. “And you, no roughhousing.” “Can’t make any promises.” Chaeyoung giggled. “I’m serious. I should be back after lunch. You have Sana’s number but in case your phone dies it’s on the fridge. Her bottles with instructions are in the fridge. Sana wrote them so they should be pretty through but if you have any questions I’ll keep my phone on and Momo calls herself the master of bottles, she doesn’t need to eat until after her mid-day nap but if I’m not back by then you’ll need to take care of it. She needs to nap at eleven thirty, and she should be awake by one. The baby monitor is on but if there’s any issues with it-”

“Jihyo, it’s okay. Seriously you and Sana both spiral so much. It’s going to be okay. Nico and I have hung out before. I love you, have fun at work.” Chaeyoung giggled, kissing Jihyo one more time.

“Thank you. I love you too. Bye Chae, bye Nico!” Chaeyoung had to practically push Jihyo out of the apartment. “It’s just you and me kiddo.” Chaeyoung giggled, kissing Nico’s cheek before taking her over to the couch. She sat for a few minutes before Nico started whining. Chaeyoung quickly went through the usual list of Nico things but it quickly dawned on her why Nico was whining. “You're bored. Alright, let’s find something for you to do.” Chaeyoung went over to the baby bag Sana had packed and looked through it. She found a toy for Nico, pulling it out and giving it to Nico. Nico felt the toy, but immediately threw it. “Alright not that.” Chaeyoung sighed. She had spent time with Nico before, but not alone. She actually had never watched kids alone. Her best friend growing up babysat a bit in high school for some extra money, but Chaeyoung only went with her once and the kid was ten. It was nothing like taking care of a baby. It was a little overwhelming. So Chaeyoung did what she normally did when she had no idea what to do. Google.

After a quick “what to do with a two month old” google search and looking through a few articles she came to the conclusion she had no idea what she was doing. She had already tried toys, Nico had quickly rejected that. Sana and Momo handled tummy time so Chaeyoung didn’t want to do anything that would be wrong or confusing for Nico. Nico’s nap didn’t start for an hour, and she clearly wasn’t hungry. “What do you want to do baby?” Chaeyoung sighed, thinking about what to do. “You could help Auntie Chaeyoung with her work, would that be fun?” Chaeyoung’s answer came with a tiny kick to the arm and she took that as a yes. She carried Nico over to the makeshift paint station she had in the corner of their living room. Before she moved in, Jihyo had an old piano she had inherited from her family there. Now the piano sat on the other side of the living room and Jihyo’s dead plant that had been sitting in her living room for way too long had been replaced. Chaeyoung liked the change, it felt a lot more homey. “Alright let’s see. Here, this is non-toxic. Have you ever painted before?” Chaeyoung asked. “I’m guessing you haven’t. Your mommies are kind of boring. Let’s change that.” Chaeyoung smiled. “Do you know what color this is? This is red.” Chaeyoung smiled, getting some red non-toxic paint and putting some on her paint tray. She moved Nico so she was using one hand to support her body, Nico looking at her curiously. Chaeyoung put one finger in the red paint, showing it to Nico before putting it on the blank canvas. “Want to try?” Chaeyoung grabbed one of Nico’s hands and put it in the paint before putting it on the canvas. Nico giggled as a tiny hand print appeared on the canvas. “Like that? Let’s get some more colors yeah?” xx

Jihyo got through her work as quickly as possible. She wanted to be back before Nico’s nap in case Chaeyoung had trouble putting her down and she wanted to spend time with Nico. Thankfully, she got through it all quickly. She rushed home as fast as she could, noting she got home a couple minutes before Nico’s nap was supposed to start.

“Chae? I’m back!” Jihyo called when she entered the apartment. She took her shoes off before going into the living room. She saw her daughter and girlfriend sitting at Chaeyoung’s painting station. Both of them were covered in paint somehow but both had huge smiles on their faces. Jihyo couldn’t help herself but take a picture. “Hi baby.” Jihyo greeted after taking a picture.

“Oh hey! Nico look Mama’s back!” Chaeyoung giggled. “We made art.” “I can see that.” Jihyo smiled, taking Nico from Chaeyong and giggling at how much paint was on the denim dress Sana had put on her that morning. “Let’s go get you clean and then take a nap.” “I’ll clean up here.” Chaeyoung smiled. Jihyo nodded and carried Nico to their bedroom. She undressed Nico before putting her in the sink and gently wiping the paint off of her. She put on Nico’s pink frog print pajamas before sitting down on the bed with Nico in her arms. She rubbed Nico’s back and hummed to her as she waited for her to fall asleep. Nico was out quicker than Jihyo had ever seen her, and Jihyo gently put her in her crib before going back to her girlfriend. “She asleep?” Chaeyoung asked. “She fell asleep faster than she ever has with me.” Jihyo smiled, sitting in Chaeyoung’s lap. “Cool. Look at the art we did.” Chaeyoung showed Jihyo the canvas, which was covered in paint smudges and tiny hand prints. “Aww. We should hang this in the new living room.” Jihyo giggled.

“Hmm.. I think we should put it in Nico’s new room. The nice thing about moving is she will have her own room with us too.” “We could do that. Or you two could make a smaller one and it could go onto our new fancy fridge.” Jihyo offered. “Oh, sounds good. I meant to ask, would you prefer purple or blue for Nico’s new room? I was thinking we could do a sky theme with clouds and stars, but I wanted to ask your opinion first.” Chaeyoung asked.

“Chaeyoung, you really don’t have to-”

“No no no. You agreed to give me complete creative control of Nico’s room when you decided to give her her own room. It’s part of being my girlfriend.” Chaeyoung wrapped her arms around Jihyo’s waist.

“I was going to say, you don’t need to paint my daughter’s room. It’s a lot of work-”

“I know. But we can do it together. Nico deserves the world.” Chaeyoung kissed Jihyo’s temple. “Plus painting is kind of sexy, isn’t it?” “I can’t believe you.” Jihyo rolled her eyes, but couldn’t fight the proud smile on her face. Even if she was faking annoyance, she loved how much Chaeyoung loved Nico. When they were first dating, Chaeyoung had seemed apprehensive about Nico. Jihyo and her were already dating when Jihyo found out Sana was pregnant, but their relationship was only a few weeks old and definitely not in a place to be having kids together. Chaeyoung was younger than her too, so Jihyo was worried about how she would be with Nico. But ever since Chaeyoung had met her, she had been in love with Nico. And it seemed the longer they were together, the more Chaeyoung fell in love with Jihyo’s daughter. Nico was important to Jihyo, and so was Chaeyoung. She couldn’t help but be filled to the brim with happiness seeing them get along. “Love you too Hyo.”

[aph-honk-kong]

Sylfiden - Akt I

Alastair should be grateful that his future is secure - he has a large house, bountiful crops and will soon be married to the prettiest girl in the village. But on the morning of his wedding day, a sylph appears in his living room and dismantles every aspect of his perfectly-planned life.

[Written for day three of @aphrarepairweek2021​ with the prompt “culture” - granted, this is kind of inaccurate since the source this was based on was produced by a Dane in 1836, but I guess it still kind of shows Scottish culture]

This fic was based on the Romantic ballet Sylfiden, choreographed by August Bournonville of the Royal Danish Ballet. 

Here’s what Alastair should look like:

(This is Jon Axel Fransson, photographed by Per Morten Abrahamsen)

And here is the sylph, though you can always imagine them wearing something else:

(This is Ida Praetorius, also photographed by Per Morten Abrahamsen)

...

  Alastair awoke to whiteness.

  At first he thought it was another of Dillon’s pranks, and there was cotton over his face again, but he looked longer and found the tint before his eyes resembling fabric a little more. Had he somehow fallen asleep over Marianne’s wedding dress? No, that couldn’t be, for was it not bad luck to see the bride’s gown before the ceremony? Then Alastair looked up and saw a face.

  He was as regal as he was pale, snowy cheeks dusted with the faintest pink that mirrored the shade of his lips. He was not smiling, at least not with his mouth, but his eyes — blue eyes, Alastair noticed — held laughter. And he was so close that his white-gold hair was tickling his cheek.

  He jolted to his feet. The man moved backwards, too, and stopped by the living room window with his arms poised delicately. “Good morning.”

  “I — ” Alastair looked him up and down again. The white he saw turned out to not be from a gown, but a thin white blouse that floated whenever he moved. “What are you doing here?”

  “To visit you,” he replied. Then he turned around, and he saw on his back a pair of small, translucent wings. A sylph, he realised. A wind spirit was in his house. “I hear you are getting married today, and I wanted to wish you luck.” 

  “Oh.” The sylph moved away when he tried to get close; well, “moved” was hardly the right word for it. He glided across the floor, it seemed, wings fluttering softly each time he evaded Alastair’s grasp. “Thank you, er…?”

  “Stellan.” The sylph leapt away once more. “That is my name.”

  And a peculiar one too, Alastair was tempted to say. But he kept his mouth shut and merely watched, entranced, as Stellan drifted past the chair he had fallen asleep on. He did not seem entirely real. 

  “I wanted to look at you, I suppose,” he sing-songed, “before you got married. Some say that the hours before a wedding are a man’s last moments of freedom. Do you agree?”

  For some reason, the question made his ears prickle with heat. Was he implying that he did not want to get married? Indignantly, Alastair opened his mouth to reply when Stellan elegantly hopped away from the chair. “I must go now. I will see you again soon.”

  He stepped backwards into the fireplace, and the flames rose higher. When they faded, Stellan was gone.

  Not a minute after Stellan disappeared, Dillon stamped into the room with a grin. “My, you’re already awake!” He exclaimed. “After all the planning last night I expected you to be out ‘til noon.” He lowered his voice. “Best look presentable, now. Marianne will be here to get ready soon.”

  “Wait, really?” His hands flew to his head and began trying to flatten his hair, which was probably a rat’s nest after just waking up. “Goodness, I’m still in my clothes from yesterday.” Something white flashed in his vision, and he started. Had Stellan returned?

  “You alright there?”

  “Just thought I saw something,” Alastair said tiredly. “Did you see a sylph last night? I swore one came to visit me when I first awoke.”

  Dillon stared at him as though he had grown another head. “Have you been drinking already?”

  “No?”

  “Of course I haven’t seen a sylph!” With a bark of laughter, he clapped Alastair on the back. “And neither should you. It’s probably just cold feet. Have some breakfast and warm yourself up, and you ought to be alright.”

  He glanced at the window once more. Nothing. “Yes,” he settled, “I was probably just a bit delirious.”

  His cottage door opened again and in flowed distant giggles. Breaking away from her mother, Marianne swept into the living room and into his arms. “Good morning, dear.”

  “Good morning.” Alastair kissed her forehead. She smelled like heather. “How did you sleep?”

  “Very well.” Marianne rested her head against his chest, smiling contentedly. “Dreamt of you all night long.”

  He leant down, ready to kiss her, when a shadow moved near the fireplace. He broke away and ran towards it, ignoring his bride-to-be’s indignant huff, and bent down. Had Stellan returned to offer more blessings? Would he wish him luck again with his soft, sweet voice? Alastair searched the figure, ready to look into blue eyes —

  They were green.

  “What the Hell are you doing here?”

  Dressed slightly less odiously, scowling as usual, Arthur glared back at him. “Ah, it’s the inattentive groom. Are you leaving lovely Marianne for me?”

  Dillon snorted behind him.

  “I am not, and I find it insulting that you would even think I would,” he replied furiously. “And you are not attending my wedding. I don’t need somebody to perform magic tricks.”

  Arthur scowled even deeper in response. He was constantly trying to convince the village that he was, in fact, a witch with the ability to do magic, but everyone had come to the conclusion that he was probably a raving fool who had been exiled from England for some reason, hence his name. “I wouldn’t disrespect my craft, if I were you.”

  “It isn’t disrespectful if it’s true.” Alastair rolled his eyes. “As if you can really cast spells. Will you leave, please?”

  Now he looked positively murderous. “Don’t you dare talk to — ”

  Marianne reached the fireplace before Arthur could finish his sentence. “Why don’t you predict our fortunes?” She asked with a pacifying smile. “If your predictions are good enough, we’ll let you stay.“

  Arthur stared at her for a moment, then rolled his eyes. “All right. Gather your ladies.”

  The first of Marianne’s friends came forward, and the witch took her hand roughly. After peering at her palm for a moment, he proclaimed, “you will find love soon.”

  “You will lose something dear to you,” he informed another. 

  The third fortune he whispered in the girl’s ear, and when she turned away she had tears in her eyes. Arthur watched her leave with a smug smile forming.

  “Hey!” A little boy Alastair recognised as Dillon’s nephew ran forward. “Look at mine next!”

  He had barely touched the boy’s hand when Dillon reached them, scooping him cleanly off his feet and carrying him away. “Don’t you talk to him, Peter! You will take part in none of this nonsense!”

  Marianne went to Arthur next. He took one look at her palm, and his smile grew. “There is love in your future.”

  She stretched her other hand to hold Alastair’s, and he leant down to kiss her once more. “I already know that.”

  “But!” And now he looked positively gleeful. “That love will have nought to do with your dear fiancé. He will leave you for someone else!”

  He frowned. “That isn’t true, and you know it.”

  “Say, look at my palm.” Dillon strode forward, having deposited Peter as far away from Arthur as possible. He winked at Alastair. “Maybe I’ll turn into a frog tomorrow.”

  Arthur took one look at his hand and gave a short laugh. “You will find love very soon, too,” he cackled. “In fact, you will marry lovely Marianne!”

  Irritation flickered deep within him, only growing as Dillon stared at Marianne in shock, pink creeping across his cheeks. “I will what?”

  “You will not fall for Marianne, that’s what you’ll do.” Alastair pulled her into his arms, glowering first at Arthur then at Dillon. “I’m the one getting married to her.”

  “Or so it is now,” Arthur mused. “Who knows what will happen at the end of today?”

  The tiny sparks of annoyance turned into mild anger and he left Marianne’s side, leaning down to grab Arthur by the arm. “You are going to get out,” he retorted, voice growing in volume, “and you are going to stay out. First for slandering me by implying that I am — that I am attracted to men, and more so for accusing my best friend of stealing my bride!” He ignored his yelp of pain, dragged him out of the living room, opened the door and quite literally threw him out of the house. 

  He slammed the door before he could get back in, and stamped back into the living room. “Well then.” He announced, trying to sound cheerful, “shall we continue preparing?”

…

  Once Marianne had left to get dressed and her bridesmaids had finished preparing, Alastair was once again left alone. He stared at his wedding suit, which he had yet to change into, and sighed. Today was supposed to be the happiest day of his life, the day he had been poised for since childhood, and that wretched witch had to try and ruin it.

  The whole village had known that he and Marianne would be wed for practically a decade. She was one of his closest, dearest friends, and he couldn’t imagine himself getting married to anyone else. Alastair ran his thumb over his engagement ring. This was his duty, and he would stick to it, no matter what Arthur’s idiotic palm-reading had predicted.

  The window creaked open.

  Feather-light, Stellan hopped from his perch on the windowsill onto the floor. He was smiling now, if one could call that tiny curve of his lips a smile. “Nervous?”

  “A little bit.”

  “I hope you considered my question.”

  He sighed; why were these strange magical fellows so determined to aggravate him on his wedding day? “I find it rather insulting that you think I’m being forcibly chained to Marianne.”

  Soft eyelashes fluttered. Stellan leapt again; he seemed incapable of staying in one place for long. “That was not what I meant. I simply want you to consider this question: are you getting married because you truly love the lady, or because you feel obligated to?”

  “Are you accusing me of not loving her?”

  His eyes flashed; his wings fluttered. Something about him, ethereal and soft, made Alastair feel warm. “No, not at all. I can see that Marianne is very dear to you, as a friend. But is she really somebody you wish to be wed to?”

  “Y-Yes,” he said instinctively.

  Stellan raised an eyebrow. “Can you imagine yourself kissing her in the years to come? Waking up every morning next to her? Raising children with her? With her?”

  With her?

  And suddenly Alastair was six years old again, playing family with Dillon. “I’m going to marry you when we grow up,” he’d declared. “I’ll put a ring on your finger and we’ll have lots of children!”

  He had not understood why his mother had run to shush him, informing him with a tight smile that he ought to marry a lady instead.

  Then he was fourteen, learning to dance for a festival. His friend had laughed, watching him blunder, and grabbed his hands to place them in the right positions. His skin had tingled, and his heart raced in a way that had nothing to do with his performance.

  And then he was nineteen, running to the market to sell the week’s produce when he bowled into somebody — a newcomer to the village, supposedly an Englishman. He’d looked into grass-green eyes and pouting lips and pushed him away with a shout, but his gaze burned into him forevermore.

  “No!” Alastair said aloud, a strange heat pricking at his eyes. “That is not the man I am anymore. This marriage is proof of that.”

  Stellan was quiet for a while, and he saw a tear roll down his cheek.

  His heart sank. “Why are you crying?”

  He breathed out shakily; a delicate white hand moved to wipe the tear away. “I am reminded, once again, how little freedom humans have,” he whispered. “How can you live knowing that you cannot truly be yourself?”

  “I am myself,” Alastair insisted. “I know who I want to be, and it is not —” He could not even say that word — “Not whatever you think I am.”

  Those lovely blue eyes glimmered, as though there were more tears to shed. Stellan blinked hard, approaching a chair and scooping up a scarf that was resting upon it. “Will you be truly happy hiding who you are for the rest of your life?” He unfolded the scarf and draped it over himself, blue tartan over ghostly pale tulle. Alastair realised that it was Marianne’s scarf, which made it a strange sight indeed — here was a beautiful, knowing man who had fluttered his way into his life just this morning dressed in his betrothed’s clothing.

  “Today’s marriage is my duty.” He could not tear his eyes away from Stellan, who was pacing around the room, snuggling into the scarf. “I have known this would happen for many years now.”

  Those beguiling eyes caught him then; triumph shimmered in them. “So it is something you must do, but not something you want to do.”

  “Why do you care?” Alastair questioned brusquely. “It is not as though you are jealous of Marianne, and would marry her instead.”

  Stellan glided towards him once more. His cheeks were slightly more flushed now, making him look more like an actual human being rather than a fleeting spirit. “Because, as the winds blow past the fields you work in, I have watched you. Day in, day out, you live as dictated.” Stellan’s blush deepened more so, and he pursed his lips. “And I came to grow fond of you.” He gently twisted the scarf. “Very fond.

  “How could I bear to see somebody I am fond of so caged in?”

  Suddenly, Alastair’s ears felt rather warm. So that was why Stellan was so against all of this. “So you have that sort of feeling for me. What makes you so sure that I am like you?”

  Stellan neared Alastair, though he dodged playfully when he reached out to try and touch him. “Because,” he said, voice much lighter now, “I saw your face when you first laid eyes on me. I doubt you have ever looked at Marianne that way. At the very least, I have never seen you do so.”

  His breath caught. “Did I really look… lovestruck, or something-or-other?”

  “Yes, you did.”

  Now the heat had spread from his ears to his entire face, and Alastair prayed that his cheeks were not as red as his hair. “I don’t think I meant it.” Then Stellan neared, and he leant forward to try and catch him once more, suddenly wondering what his touch felt like. 

  The door creaked open, and from the doorway came, “Alastair?”

  The shock cut through the rest of his battling thoughts, and he ran towards Stellan. “You have to go.”

  He tugged the scarf off himself, glancing at the door. “What is happening?”

  “They cannot see you!” Alastair nudged him to the window. “Go now, please, I will meet you again soon.”

  Dillon burst into the room, seeing Stellan in all his beauty by the window, and froze. 

  Before he could stop him, he rushed out of the room, and Alastair whirled to Stellan. “Please. I don’t know what they will do to you, I don’t want you to get hurt — ”

  “There!”

  He spun to see Dillon back in the room, alongside Marianne and her mother. “I saw him there, with a man in white.”

  “Don’t be silly now.” Marianne sailed to the window. “All I see is my scarf. I think you’re just taking Arthur’s fortunes a bit too seriously.”

  Alastair’s shoulders sagged in relief, realising that Stellan had flown away just in time. “I do hope you do not actually believe that lunatic’s words.”

  Marianne’s mother laughed. “I think he’s just jealous that his best friend got the loveliest girl in the village.”

  “Mother!” She laughed, high and sweet, though it did not warm Alastair’s heart the way he thought it would. “Dillon will find a wife of his own soon, I just know it. There is no need to fight over me.”

  “I wasn’t planning to,” Dillon said gruffly.

  Marianne wrapped her scarf around her neck and gave him a chaste kiss on the cheek. “Come on, now. Let Alastair get changed. Go outside and wait for everyone else to show up.”

  Bride-to-be and mother-in-law watched him like a hawk as he changed into his wedding suit, then led him outside where the many wedding guests were assembled. Standing aside was a cluster of bards, bagpipes at the ready. Dillon came up to him, all shock and envy from before gone, and grabbed his shoulder. “It’s your last hour as an unmarried man. We ought to celebrate!”

  The bards began their playing, Marianne pulled him into the crowd and he began to dance.

  It was freeing, for a while, to lose himself in the wild blur of limbs and laughter and simply move without thinking. Alastair had danced this way before, and it would never stop being exciting to him. He laughed, hooking an arm around Marianne’s waist and spinning her ‘round. Little Peter danced in front of him and nearly tripped over his uncle’s shoes.

  They danced, carefree and jolly, and Alastair nearly felt ready for the wedding. But then he saw white again.

  Once more he released her, searching the crowd of people for the one man he knew would stand out. He saw nothing. She took hold of him again, and they continued dancing.

  The next time he slipped away, it was a pair of gossamer wings he saw. Stellan glanced back at him, cheeks pink once more as he sailed elegantly past the partygoers. Unthinking, Alastair reached a hand out, a part of him perhaps hoping to touch his soft hair, but Marianne grabbed his wrist and he was tugged back.

  Throughout the song they played their silent, musical game of cat-and-mouse. Stellan wove in between the dancers, somehow evading notice, while Alastair tried to catch glimpses of him without arousing any more suspicion. Occasionally, when he got bored of spinning and gliding, Stellan flapped his wings a few times to make his jumps higher. His slender arms stretched out in front of him, flowing like a scarf in the wind. In his white clothes, dancing something entirely different, Alastair had never seen someone so graceful.

  When the dancing ended, and Stellan had vanished once more, he was given the ring that would adorn Marianne’s fingers during the ceremony and left alone once more. Alastair ran his fingers over the bronze band, watching it glint in the faint sunlight. Less than an hour later, he would slip this ring on her fourth finger, and she would do the same to him, and that would be it. They would be bound to each other for as long as they lived, and what was left of his nameless, forbidden love would be stamped out for good. But that was what he wanted, wasn’t it? For his desire to finally be suppressed? In that case, the rings would be less like rings and more like shackles.

  Dillon and Marianne’s mother were keeping an eye on him from his spot by the hedges, though they didn’t know he could see them. With his parents no longer with him and her father gone too, her mother was the one who had held fast to the arranged marriage. She wanted security for her daughter, and how better to achieve that than marrying a young, well-off farmer? Alastair clenched his fist around the ring, Stellan’s words were really getting to him.

  A white-clothed figure was lingering behind a tree, peering out at him.

  Speak of the devil.

  Stellan poked his head out, looking so sweet and curious that Alastair nearly laughed. He had woven himself a circlet of white heather, as though fancying himself the one to marry him. He nodded at his hand and tilted his head.

  Oh. Alastair pinched the ring between his thumb and index finger and lifted it up. The sylph raised an eyebrow and pointed at his ring finger in question.

  He nodded.

  Quicker than he had ever seen him before, Stellan leapt out from behind his tree towards him, wings spurring him forward so he was nearly a blur. He grabbed the ring, admired it for a moment, then swiftly fled before he could catch him. “Hey!”

  He slipped the ring on his own finger, glanced back at him and smiled teasingly. Hopping lithely onto his garden fence, he perched on top of it for a moment, winked, then tumbled off and made his escape. Alastair could hear someone yelling at him from behind, but did not turn back. Before he could stop himself, he raced after Stellan into the forest beyond.

[fics-of-culture]

Rewriting Spn: Whiskey Eyes

Summary:  Everyone knows the story of Gabriel, but how does that story change when he meets the Winchester’s youngest sister Y/N? Will their love be strong enough to change his fate?

Words: 5,046

A/N: Shoutout to @loch-ness-moron​ for the kind words she left on the last part. Here is part 2.

Mystery Spot 3.11

It had been months since you’d met the trickster. You hadn’t been sure what to make of the chocolate bar you’d found in the motel room after Dean defeated him. You grabbed it up before either of your brothers could spot it. You certainly didn’t want the questioning that you knew would come if they’d seen it. It was the exact same brand as the one you’d seen the trickster munching on before his demise. Part of you wanted to believe this was his way of letting you know that he was still alive. Still around somewhere, pulling pranks on unsuspecting douchebags. But you knew better than to hope for such a thing. Although you hadn’t been there to see it, you knew Dean drove a stake through his chest. No trickster could walk away from that. And you could think of no reason for the trickster to feel the need to let you know he was alright. It made more sense to believe that he had left it there while you and the boys were gone, right before his death. For a while, you weren’t sure what to do with it. The idea of throwing it away made you feel guilty. This was probably the last thing left of the man that your brother had killed. That being said, you knew better than to eat it. He was a trickster after all. The chocolate could be cursed or poisoned or something else just as dangerous. So you’d kept it, knowing you’d probably have to throw it out at some point because how long does chocolate even last anyway?

A few months later your brother Dean found the bar while looking through your bag for salt. Upon finding it, he promptly shoved it in his mouth. You walked in the room as he was halfway through his little snack.

“Hey, did you find the sal-“ You cut yourself off as you see your brother. He was hunched over your bag with a candy bar shoved in his mouth. “Is that the candy bar that was in my bag?” Your older brother at least had the decency to look embarrassed.

“I’ll buy you a new one, promise.” Dean spoke as he continued eating. Part of you was furious at him for eating the last thing the trickster has even given you, but a larger part of you was more worried about the possible side effects of eating trickster-chocolate. You’d spent the whole day hovering around him, making sure he didn’t turn into a frog or suddenly drop dead or something. Your brothers seemed to notice your newfound interest in Dean, but neither of them said anything. A fact you were incredibly thankful for, because you weren’t sure you’d be able to explain the situation without at least a fair bit of shouting from both of your brothers. By the end of the day you had come to the conclusion that the chocolate bar was safe. It had been 8 hours and nothing had happened. You were relieved that you hadn’t accidentally killed your older brother, but you now wondered why the trickster would leave you this piece of candy if it wasn’t meant to harm you. You shrugged off the thought. The trickster was gone, and you’d likely never know why that man did anything. That had been the last time you’d thought about the trickster. Months had gone by and your family’s lives had gotten complicated. Nowadays, your thoughts were preoccupied with Dean’s impending deadline. You and Sam had been looking for anything in which to save your brother, but there was nothing to be found. Dean, however, had no real interest in saving himself. He wanted nothing more than to continue hunting as usual. Hence, how you found yourself in a sleepy town in Broward County.

You wake up suddenly as an alarm clock goes off. It was blaring Heat Of The Moment by Asia. You opened your eyes to see Dean tying his shoes on your shared bed. It wasn’t unusual to wake up like this. Most motel rooms only offered two beds and your brothers neither the money nor the desire to purchase another room. They thought it was safer for you all to be together. And since none of you had any interest in sleeping on the floor, you got used to sharing a bed with your brothers. This time you had bunked with Dean. A decision you were starting to regret as you see how cheery he is this morning. You groan into the pillow as you listen to your brothers banter back and forth about the music.

Twenty minutes later, you were waiting for your brothers to get ready for the day. Being the beloved little sister, you always got first dibs on the bathroom. After you were all ready (and after Dean found some lacy lingerie that had found its way into his luggage) you were off to breakfast. You stepped into the diner, observing the other patrons with interest. As you sat down in your booth, an older man sitting at the counter, eating some pancakes turned and winked at you. You cringed as he turned back around. The last thing you wanted to deal with this morning was unwanted attention from some creep. You all ordered your food as you discussed the case. You couldn’t help but feel a pang of familiarity as you spoke of the victim. A Professor Dexter Hasselback disappeared at the Broward County mystery spot. You briefly remember the professor from the trickster case. You could appreciate the trickster dolling just desserts, but none of those people had deserved to get killed. You wonder if this professor is as much of a douche as the last one was. Your train of thought was interrupted when the waitress’s hot sauce hit the floor. You noticed the man from earlier turn at the sound of glass shattering on the floor. You all quickly finished your food after that and resolved to check out the mystery spot.

You walk down the street with your brothers, discussing the legitimacy of the mystery spot. As your brothers debated, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of unease. This place felt odd in a way you couldn’t quite put your finder on. You shrug off the feeling. There are more important things to be focusing on right now. Your brothers and you resolve to check out the mystery spot after it closes.

You broke into the mystery spot house a little before midnight. None of you were sure what exactly you should be looking for. You decided to split up from the boys in order to cover more ground. You entered a room off to the side as Sam and Dean searched the main room. You suddenly heard a commotion from the other room and went to return to your brothers. As you turned, you noticed that the door you had just walked through was now shut. You tried the handle as you heard the situation escalate outside. The door seemed to be inexplicably jammed, despite the fact that you’d just gone through it a moment ago. A gunshot rings out from the other side of the door and you slam your full weight into it. You’re hoping that your weight will be enough to force the door open, but it remains closed. You scream out for your brothers as the door remains locked.

“Sam! Dean! Where are you?”

~~~~~

You wake up suddenly from what feels like a bad dream. The song Heat Of The Moment fills your ears as you take in the scene around you. Dean sits on the edge of your shared bed, getting ready for the day. Him and Sam appear to be bantering about the song on the radio. You get the strangest feeling of Déjà vu. You look to Sam and see the bewildered expression on his face. He seems to look just as confused as you feel. You stay silent as you wait for your brothers to get ready in the morning. You decide not to say anything about your dream or overwhelming sense of Déjà vu. You’re not sure what to say, anyhow. As the three of you step into the diner, you watch the patrons again. Except this time you couldn’t help but notice that everything that was happening around you perfectly matched the dream you had had last night. Right down to the same creep who turned to wink at you as you slid into the booth. After the waitress takes your orders, Sam finally says what you’ve been thinking.

“You don’t- you don’t remember any of this?” Sam gestures vaguely to everything around you.

“Yes! Yes exactly!” Sam turns to face you as you exclaim. “Like all of this has happened before, right?” Sam nods at you as Dean continues to look lost.

“You mean like Déjà vu?” Dean asks. You shake your head at him. He clearly doesn’t seem to understand.

“No, I mean like it’s REALLY happened before.” Sam continues.

“Yeah, like Déjà vu.” You sigh as you realize Dean probably isn’t about to figure this out any time soon.

“Obviously it’s not Déjà vu, Dean. I mean, why would Sammy and I both be experiencing Déjà vu at the exact same time?” Dean just shrugs at you and you sigh again. The waitress then comes back to deliver your food. Her hot sauce begins to topple. You and Dean watch as Sam instinctively reaches his hand out to catch it.

The rest of the day continues just as it had yesterday. You all finish your food and walk down the street. Sam continues trying to fill Dean in on the situation. You had already given up on convincing Dean about halfway through breakfast. He obviously wasn’t going to listen. Finally you all come to the decision to visit the mystery spot again. You trip over the sidewalk as Sam and Dean continue on ahead of you. You look down to find your shoelace has come undone. You shout at the boys to go on ahead and you bend down to tie your shoe. Your head snaps up suddenly as you hear a crash. You look up to see a car stopped in the middle of the road. Sam’s body shields your view from the bloodied up Dean on the floor. You get up to run over to them but you find yourself tripping again. By the time you’re able to get your bearings and make your way over to your brothers, your eyes snap open and you wake up in the motel again.

It continues on like this for about a hundred different Tuesdays. Sam spends the morning trying to convince Dean that you’re stuck in a time loop, you all walk down the same street discussing your next move, and at some point during the day Dean dies. His death varies from day to day. One day, Dean slips in the shower. The next, he gets hit in the face with an axe. And every day, without fail, you always happen to miss it. You’re always looking in the wrong direction or just in the other room when it happens. As horrific as the situation is, you can’t help but feel somewhat relieved that you have yet to actually witness your brother die. You feel bad for Sammy. He spends every day trying to prevent Dean from dying. Trying to make it to Wednesday. You help, of course. But you at least can take comfort in the fact that when something happens, you won’t be there to see it. You can’t imagine what it’s like to actually see Dean die every. single. day. By the end of it, you and Sam are able to perfectly recite every line someone says, every little thing that happens, and you know everything that Dean is going to say and do in every given circumstance. The two of you know everything about this town and every person in it. Well, all except one. The man who winks at you every day never seems to get involved. No matter the situation or circumstance, the three of you never seem to run into him. It’s an odd detail, but you push it out of your mind. The information seeming unhelpful for the time being. There finally seems to be a break in the case when Dean speaks to the missing person’s daughter. A hundred Tuesday’s gone by and you’d never thought to check the fliers in her hand.

This time when you wake suddenly in your motel, you feel invigorated. You enter the diner with a pep in your step. You feel good about the information the professor’s daughter had given you. You finally might be able to figure this out now. And when the man at the counter turns to wink at you, you wink back. You watch as the man’s eyebrows shoot up into his hairline, as though he hadn’t been expecting you to reciprocate. You pull your attention away from him to focus on Sam. He had brought his laptop this morning in order to do a little more research into Dexter Hassleback. As the three of you sit there discussing the victim, you watch as the flirtatious man from before pays for his food and walks out. ‘That’s new’ You think idly. But you suppose that you hadn’t stuck around the diner long enough in the past to watch him finish his meal. You all pay for your meal and stand to leave as Dean let’s out a laugh.

“It’s funny, you know. I mean, this guy spends his whole life crapping on mystery spots and then he vanishes in one. It’s kind of poetic, you know? Like just desserts.” You freeze as you hear that phrase. Your stomach sinks as Dean walks past you. It couldn’t be possible... You look to Sam to gauge his reaction, but he’s too busy looking at the plate the man from before had left. Dean walks back to the two of you to ask what’s wrong

“Guy has maple syrup for the past hundred Tuesdays. All of a sudden he’s having strawberry?” You meet Sam’s gaze as a look of understanding passes between the two of you.

~~~~~

The next day, or rather next Tuesday, you and Sam are prepared. You are not staying in this time loop for another minute. The man winked at you again as you sat down and it took all of your energy not to try and stab him on the spot. You had to be strategic about this. You remained quiet as you ate your breakfast. You noticed that your mystery man was back to maple syrup today. But it was too late, he’d already given himself away. A trickster had locked you and Sam in a time loop. And you two would not rest until you were free. You didn’t bother trying to catch Dean up. You just waited until the man left the diner. Sam grabbed the paper bag containing a wooden stake and the two of you rose from your seats to follow him out.

Sam grabbed the trickster and pinned him to a nearby fence. You stood by to ensure that the man doesn’t get a chance to make a break for it. Dean seems confused as Sam digs the stake into his neck. You hold Dean by the shoulder to ensure he doesn’t stop Sam.

“I know who you are. Or should I say ‘what’?” Sam looks clearly pissed as he threatens the trickster. As he had every right to be. This guy had been screwing with you for the past hundred something days. Your face is stoic as you watch Sam confront the man. You didn’t flinch as the man shot you a desperate look. This bastard deserved whatever he got. And when Dean tried to intervene, you just kept hold of him. This trickster was good, you’d give him that. He kept pleading with you and Sam.

“Mister, my name is Ed Coleman, my wife's name is Amelia, I got two kids, for crying out loud I sell ad space—“

“Don't lie to me!” Sam cut him off. “I know what you are! We've killed one of your kind before!” Your stoic expression falters at that. The trickster from before, ‘Gabe’ as he called himself, flashed in your mind. It had been almost a year, but for some reason you still found yourself upset when remembering what happened to him. This new trickster seems to notice your grief as it flashes on your face for a moment. You steel yourself again, but you know it’s too late. He had already noticed. He smiled at you before transforming before your eyes. You watched in terror as the man’s face took the shape of Gabe’s.

“Actually, bucko, you didn’t.” Gabe quirked his eyebrows up at you as you stared in disbelief.

“How... this isn’t...” You stutter out in shock. You didn’t know what to say. The trickster that you had felt so drawn to, who you thought was dead was standing here before you. He frowned at the look on your face. He looked as though he had been expecting you to be a bit more cheerful upon seeing him. Perhaps he had forgotten the hell that he had been putting you all through.

“Why are you doing this?” The trickster turns his attention back to Dean.

“You're joking, right? You chuckleheads tried to kill me last time.” He gave you a pointed look as he said this and you felt your blood boil. He couldn’t seriously be upset at you for that, could he? “Why wouldn't I do this?”

“And Hasselback,” Dean speaks up. “what about him?”

“That putz? He said he didn't believe in wormholes, so I dropped him in one.” The trickster chuckles as he finishes his sentence. He looks at each of you in turn as if gauging your reactions. Your face quickly shows him that you’re not amused.

“Then you guys showed up. I made you the second you hit town. I’d recognize your gorgeous baby sis anywhere.” He waggled his eyebrows as Dean pushed you behind him.

“Watch it, asshole.” Dean points a finger at his chest and Gabe just rolls his eyes.

“So this is fun for you? Killing Dean over and over again?” The trickster’s attention is once again pulled back to Sam. He looks at him as though he had forgotten the taller Winchester was even there.

“One, yes. It is fun. And two? This is so not about killing Dean. This joke is on you, Sam. Watching your brother die, every day? Forever?”

“Why? Why do this?” You ask desperately as you step past your brother. For a moment you see a look of guilt flash in Gabe’s eyes. He swallows slowly as he tries to find the right words.

“Because the two of you?” You see Gabe’s eyes flick back and forth between you and Sam. “You need to learn. How long will it take you to realize? You can't save your brother. No matter what.” You take an uncertain step back as the man speaks. His words hit you like a ton of bricks. You see his eyes slide shut for a moment and you get the sense that the trickster’s heart isn’t completely in this. Before you can say anything else, Sam starts up again.

“Oh yeah? I kill you, this all ends now.” The guilt from before fades from the trickster’s face and he suddenly looks... panicked? That doesn’t seem right. From what Dean told you, he didn’t even seem to break a sweat last time you tried to kill him.

“Oh-oh, hey, whoa! Okay. Look. I was just playing around. You can't take a joke, fine. You're out of it. Tomorrow, you'll wake up and it'll be Wednesday. I swear.” You want nothing more than for him to be telling the truth. You didn’t want your brothers to have to kill him. Again, that is. But you knew better than to trust the trickster this time around.

“You're lying.” Sam says what you’re all thinking.

“If I am, you know where to find me. Having pancakes at the diner.” Sam turns to look at you and Dean.

“No. Easier to just kill you.”

“Sorry, kiddo. Can't have that.” The trickster snaps his fingers and everything goes black.

~~~~~

You woke again abruptly. But this time you noticed the lack of Asia playing on the radio. You look at Sam as he exclaims ‘it’s Wednesday!’ The two of you share a cheerful look as Dean just watched the two of you, a confused expression fixed on his face. It turns out that despite it being Wednesday, Dean still has no recollection of what happened beyond your last Tuesday. You’re secretly grateful that he doesn’t remember the hundreds of times that he had been killed. You all pack your things and try to get the hell out of this town as quickly as possible. You all agreed to let the trickster go for now, in return for not ending up in (most likely) another time loop.

You and Sam are still in the motel room when you hear gunfire. Sam bolts out ahead of you as you struggle to keep up. You see Sam leaning over your brother's body, and all the while as you approach you expect to be transported back into your bed. To wake up like nothing ever happened. You kneel on the ground beside Sammy. You stare down in shock as you watch your older brother bleed out on the floor. You can’t imagine what it must’ve been like for Sam, witnessing this a hundred times over. It takes a few hours for you to realize that you weren’t about to get a do over.

~~~~~

You spend the first few months with Sam searching for the trickster, but as things became more desperate Sam started to separate himself from you. Most of your days were spent in a haze. You drank, you cried, and you prayed. You prayed to anyone that could hear you for your brother to be returned to you. You even prayed to the trickster every once in a while. You weren’t sure he would hear you, but Bobby had once mentioned that he was basically a demigod and you figured it didn’t hurt to try. You prayed for months and not once did you receive any answer. It was clear to you that the trickster simply didn’t care, and any kind feels you had for him turned into hatred. He had lied to you, tortured you, and then he stole your brother from you. It wasn’t fair. You knew you were going to lose your brother eventually, but you still had a year to spend with him. Before it was torn away from you by a monster.

It came as a shock when Bobby called. You had never expected to actually find the trickster. And yet, Bobby had found him. You told the older hunter that you’d meet him as soon as possible. You drove through the night, eager to get back to where it all started. The mystery spot. You get a sense of unease as you walk into the house. You tried to steel yourself for what lied ahead, but nothing could prepare you for the scene you walked in on. Your brother Sam was standing over Bobby's corpse. A wooden stake protruding from the man’s back. You let out a gasp and Sam turned to look at you.

“Y/N!” You cover your mouth with your hand.

“What have you done?” You fix Sam with a wide eyed stare.

“You don’t understand. That’s not Bobby.” You look at him like he had lost his mind. “He’s the trickster, I swear.” You take a step back as Sam tries to walk toward you. “He’s going to turn back into the trickster at any moment.” A few moments pass and the two of you watch the corpse. Nothing happens. “Bobby...” Suddenly the corpse disappears and the wooden stake flies past you. You turn to see the trickster smiling at you, stake in hand.

“You’re right. I was just screwing with you.” Gabe says to Sam. You stare in shocked silence at the appearance of the trickster. “Pretty good though, Sam. Smart. Let me tell you, whoever said Dean was the dysfunctional one has never seen you with a sharp object in your hands. Holy Full Metal Jacket.”

“Bring him back.” Sam pleads.

“Who, Dean? Didn't my girl send you flowers? Dean's dead. He ain't coming back. His soul's downstairs doing the hellfire rumba as we speak.” You shake your head as a tear escapes your eye. It couldn’t be true. There had to be something he could do.

“Please Gabe.” You whisper it so quietly you’re not sure anyone would hear you. But when he turns to take in your tear stained face, you know he did. You hole your head high as he peers at you. You want him to see your tears. You want him to know that he did this to you. The pained look in the trickster’s eyes is almost tangible. Sam continues on, unaware that you’d even spoken.

“Just take us back to that Tuesday—er, Wednesday—when it all started. Please. We won't come after you, I swear.” Gabe’s eyes fall back to your brother.

“You swear?”

“Yes.”

“I don't know. Even if I could—” You can’t help but notice the reluctant expression the trickster wears. You can’t help but get the impression that the trickster isn’t particularly enjoying this. 

“You can.”

“True. But that don't mean I should.” You don’t even try to hide the hurt expression on your face. Gabe lets out a harsh sigh as he continues. “Sam, there's a lesson here that I've been trying to drill into that freakish Cro-Magnon skull of yours.”

“Lesson? What lesson?”

“This obsession to save Dean? The way you two keep sacrificing yourselves for each other? Nothing good comes out of it. Just blood and pain. Dean's your weakness. And the bad guys know it, too. It's gonna be the death of you, Sam. BOTH of you. Sometimes you just gotta let people go.” Suddenly it all clicks into place. This wasn’t the same as his usual tricks. Gabe didn’t want to be doing this. But for some reason, he felt as though he needed to teach you this. You feel your anger towards him melt a bit.

“You’re right.” Your sudden agreement seemed to jar the men. You use this as an opportunity to get closer to the trickster. He seems wary as you step toward him. You brush Sam’s hand off your shoulder when he attempts to stop you. “You are right.” You repeat more to yourself than to him. You stare down at your feet for a moment. You hate that you agree with him, but everything he said was true. How long had your family been running in circles? Trying desperately to save each other and sacrificing everything in the process. You steel yourself as you look into Gabe’s eyes. “This has gone on for too long. It can’t go on like this.” You take one of Gabe’s hands in yours. You can see the relief in the trickster’s eyes. You know that Sam wants to protest, but you don’t give him the chance. “That being said,” You start and Gabe immediately groans in frustration. He tried to pull his hand back, but you keep it firmly in your grasp. “He is still our brother.” 

“And here I thought you’d actually learned something for a second there.” Gabe rolls his eyes as he speaks. It was clear that he didn’t like it when you disagreed with him. You give his hand a tug in order to draw his attention back to you. Once his eyes settled back on you, you started again. 

“We only have a year left with him.” You speak firmly. “And you took that from us.” Guilt again flashes across the trickster’s expression. “Please, just let us have this time with him. We’re already going to lose him. Don’t force us to lose him any sooner than we need to.” More tears slide down your cheek as you finish your little speech. You stare silently at each other for a moment. Sam takes this opportunity to chime in.

“Please. Just—please.” Gabe sighs and pulls his hand from your grip. And you let him this time. He shakes his head at the both of you and lets out a soft chuckle. Dread overloads your system as you wait to see what happens next. Gabe gives you one last glance before sliding back into trickster mode.

“I swear, it's like talking to two brick walls.” He points between the both of you. “Okay, look. This all stopped being fun months ago.” Gabe shrugs before turning to focus solely on Sam. “You're Travis Bickle in a skirt, pal. I'm over it.”

“Meaning what?” Sam asks cautiously.

“Meaning that's for me to know and you to find out.” Before either of you can get a word in, the trickster raises his hand and snaps his fingers.

~~~~~

The trickster had kept his promise. Well. he hadn’t made a promise exactly, but you felt as though he had. Either way, he teleported both you and Sam back to that Wednesday morning. You had to do your best not to sob into your older brother’s arms the moment you saw him. After six months without Dean, you were just happy to have him back. The three of you managed to get out of town without incident. As you sat in the back of the impala, you sent out a thank you to the trickster. You weren’t sure if he could hear you or not, but you just hoped he knew how grateful you were to have your brother back. Now you just had to focus on keeping him. You felt guilty about lying to the trickster before. You hadn’t meant to of course. But being here now, you knew without a shadow of a doubt that you would do anything to save your brother Dean Winchester.

[yakityyaku]

Probably because you guys are absolutely twisting what Kahlem has said into something she hasn't said. She literally said she supported you guys and you deserve equal rights. You guys are throwing hissy fits over being able to say ACAB, which cursing has always been against the rules, and not having a same sex leaf/pride items, and then twisting it to be Kahlem is a homophobe in which she is not.

*cracks knuckles* ok let's do this

First of all, what words are being twisted? She never said she supports the LGBT community. She was asked several times to say the specific words "I support the LGBT community and believe they should have equal rights" and she never said it. She just kept saying everyone was welcome on Mweor. Those are not the same thing. There's no valid reason to not say specifics.

"But she was being bullied into saying it!"

If you asked me if I think homeless puppies should be given a home, or that kids with cancer should get medical support, or whatever else and told me to say those things word for word, I'm not going to get pissy and tell you no and say I'm being bullied. I might be concerned that my stance on those issues wasn't clear! But I'd still say it. It's not bullying to ask someone to speak up.

You shouldn't NEED any level of force to say something that should be very much be supported. The fact that she danced around a human rights question, considered being asked to answer the question bullying, and then NEVER made the actual statement we wanted is exactly what happened and if she won't tell us verbatim that she specifically supports our community and our rights NOT just our use of her website that she makes at LEAST a year's worth of minimum wage on per year as profit alongside her actual sources of income then what else are we supposed to assume? Words and actions correlate anon.

A company will not say it doesn't want x minority buying their product because they want to profit off of them, but that doesn't mean they're not supporting people and other businesses who directly lead to the hurt and discrimination against said minority.

Nobody is twisting her words, we made a pretty fucking easy conclusion based on logic, our experiences as a community historically, what we DO know about Kahlem, and just common sense.

Give me one good reason why you wouldn't specifically say you supported a marginalized group if you actually did support them. Explain to me how a simple request being repeated over and over is bullying. Explain why she wouldn't comply before it even became a big deal.

Next, I don't know why you're throwing this out to me because A I never posted ACAB anywhere on the site and said in an answer I understand why using the acronym caused warnings. You're lumping all of us into one group and not bothering to read anything anyone is saying to you because you made your mind up a long time ago yet still have the gall to pretend you're being rational and logical when you refuse to absorb a single word of new information that doesn't support your opinion.

I already discussed my stance on the ACAB issue and what the actual problem with it was, so you're welcome to search for it in the tag it shouldnt be too far down. I'm sure you won't though because you're just baiting.

Also, again, I dont give a fuck about the items. I don't make pairs. I suck at it and don't like my mweors looking similar. I would have likely never used the breeding leaf to begin with. Pride items are cute and should exist, but they don't fit my aesthetic and I don't even use the Lioden ones and likely wouldn't use any on Mweor either.

You once again have made a broad stroke assumption that this is about items. It isnt. The problem is it took several years for her to address one of if not the most supported suggestions on the site and only chose to when someone tipped her off thay people were sick of 0 transparency from her and felt her utter lack of engagement with the site and it's posts showed her inability to run the site efficiently.

Derivative from that were the years old rumors of her homophobia fostered by the furry paws incident which stoked fear that she was denying the leaf for homophobic reasons. Then she decided she couldnt say she supported the lgbt community. Dots are connected. It doesn't take a detective to see how this all correlates

And best for last, her husband. Yeah, people who aren't racist, homophobic, ableist, and otherwise bigoted morons LOVE neonazis! Her marrying someone who posts and is active in neonazi communities and the horrible branches of their beliefs is pretty obvious evidence she is at least ambivalent to these issues which is just as wrong as actively engaging.

This information is laid out everywhere for you. Again, I'm not going to keep repeating myself. If you have specific questions you are welcome to ask, but if you're going to decide my stance on everything and ignore easily accessible answers then you're clearly sealioning and I'm not going to waste anymore time trying to get information into your thick skull. If you don't think shes in the wrong, fine, but you're not convincing anyone else here of that and frankly I don't give a frogs fat ass

[alternislatronemhq]

Congrats, Steph, you have been accepted to AL for the role of Remus Lupin (FC: Ross Butler). Steph, wow, what a great application! I think it can be really easy for Remus to be portrayed only one way, and I’m so excited to see how you explored his differences in this storyline. He’s really hurting and bitter because of the betrayal of his friends, and that is going to be such an interesting thing to see played out. With the way you got into his head, I have full confidence that you’ll do that really well! Please send in your blog (no sideblogs for first characters, please) in the next 24 hours and be sure to take a look at our new player checklist.Welcome home, we’re so excited to have you join the family!

OOC

name — Steph age — 26 pronouns — she/her timezone — GMT+1 activity level — I work in a supermarket which is very busy at the moment, so won’t get on every day necessarily but will be around a few times a week easily, particularly afternoon UK time.

IC Overview

name — Remus Lupin age — 26 gender — Male (he/him) sexuality — Gay (closeted)

patronus — Wolf. Remus hates that the animal which best represents his soul is the one which has defined his life in such a negative way. Therefore, he never casts a corporeal patronus when he summons one.

boggart — The Full Moon. This is representative of Remus’ fear of what he becomes each month, his dread of each upcoming full moon and the way each that has passed leaves scars mental as well as physical.

IC In Depth

personality traits —

+ selfless: Remus would do anything for his friends no matter the cost to him.

+ compassionate: Possibly an odd trait for somebody known as a prankster, Remus sees the good in those around him and empathises with them. He would take the side of an underdog over the easier but less righteous choice. His compassionate nature has also helped him to forgive people when they have done wrong in the past, in particular Sirius after the incident of Severus Snape and the Whomping Willow. However, forgiving himself and forgiving Sirius again after the breakdown of the Marauders feels impossible.

+ astute: While Remus generally has to work at being book smart, his sharp perception of the world comes naturally. He can think quickly and intuitively to turn a situation to his advantage, whether that is in finding loopholes for the next marauder prank, in assessing a situation that might be about to turn sour or in identifying somebody who needs a word of encouragement.

- people pleaser: In school, this manifested in Remus’s tendency to look the other way when the other Marauders are breaking rules. He would not participate if he didn’t really agree with what they were doing but he certainly didn’t do anything to stop or stand up to his friends. The biggest threat to his self-esteem is the idea of being unwanted, unloved, or a disappointment.

- self-deprecating: Remus hates everything that reminds him of his lycanthropy, especially the parts of his personality which are shaped by his condition. Though the support of his friends has helped him come to terms with his fate in the past, Remus has always been prone to some doubt and shame over the werewolf part of him. Knowing that Sirius lost trust in him was hard for him but now he almost accepts it as inevitable because he doesn’t feel like he deserved the friendship of the Marauders in the first place.

- vengeful: While Remus will forgive somebody for one wrong if they show contrition, if somebody earns his anger then they should beware. On the wrong side of him, Remus is a force to be reckoned with.

character biography —

(Tws: illness, smoking-related illness, death, depression, poverty and homelessness)

From the night he was bitten, Remus grew up in isolation units and hospital wards and the confining four walls of his bedroom. His life would forever be shaped by that monthly pattern and a fear of others finding out. His home-schooling involved not just basic numeracy and literacy but also astronomy and muggle physics and an extensive education into what it meant to be a werewolf. Every last galleon that they owned went into searching for a cure or moving to another town after their latest neighbours started to suspect something was amiss with the family, a few spare coins each month for each of their vices: Lyall’s italian coffee and books, cigarettes and music records for Hope, and chocolate frogs and colouring pencils for remus. In between other lessons, Lyall Lupin did everything he could to ensure Remus would be prepared for a nomadic adulthood — a life on the streets, friendless and penniless — deaf to Hope’s pleas that they try and help him get back to some notion of a normal life.

Hope’s wish finally came true in the form of Professor Dumbledore, not long since appointed as headmaster of Hogwarts, showing up on their doorstep. Remus was so excited to go to school that he barely noticed his parents’ worried exchanges and fears. It was only later, when Remus started to compare the next year’s full moons to his new school calendar that it dawned on him just how complicated this would be. It was his mother who suggested that he could say she had a chronic illness and that he was visiting her whenever there was a Full Moon but he had not known James Potter, Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew for long before he realised they would not buy that as a reason for skipping classes or being absent from the dorm every month like clockwork. Remus, glad to finally have friends and terrified he would lose them if they found out the truth, made up different and increasingly more elaborate stories but he wasn’t a good enough liar to hide from his best friends.

The four of them grew closer than Remus could have ever hoped for. They accepted him and supported him. They helped him keep his secret from their other classmates and they were constantly coming up with ways to make things easier for him, whether it was ensuring he didn’t fall behind in classes or sneaking him sweets and tea the morning after a transformation. They learnt to become animagi and Remus couldn’t be more grateful.

Everything seemed to go wrong at once. a betrayal from his best of friends — his only friends — revealing the secret his life had been devoted to keeping for the purpose of playing a cheap and fatal prank on Snape. Remus felt convinced all three of them were in on it because they always were. He avoided and argued and was the most miserable he had been since starting Hogwarts. It was during this period of low that he had a careers meeting that highlighted how dim his prospects after school would be and remus was reminded of what his father had tried to impress on him all these years — that werewolves weren’t supposed to have the sort of life he had been playing at, with education and friends and happiness. The next full moon was during the Easter holidays and unable to bear sitting in the Shrieking Shack alone, he went home. He asked his parents why him. Unable to fob him off with any more half-truths or excuses, his father finally opened up about Greyback. Remus had to hear how his father had once held the same prejudices about werewolves as the rest of the wizarding world and make his own conclusion that maybe he still did. After all, he had almost stopped Remus from living his life after the bite, no matter how much he claimed it was for Remus’ own good. The resulting argument was brutal but soon cut short by hacking coughs and Lyall turning on his wife and snapping at her to stop smoking those damn things. Her hand was shaking as she ignored him and tried to light the cigarette anyway. Remus noticed for the first time that she looked very ill, so ill that his using her as an excuse all those months appeared to be coming back to bite him.

They had been his first ever friends and when Remus returned to school he knew he could avoid them no longer. He needed them. Life would be much too lonely without them, especially if Hope’s days were numbered and, besides, he had grown too used to their being by his side during transformations. He refused to let them talk about it, insisting he didn’t want to relive it when in fact a part of him was worried that talking it through would remind him how betrayed he had felt. He reminded himself of what he had always believed: that he wasn’t good enough for them. That he was nothing more than a monster and at least he should be grateful that they still wanted his friendship. He was indebted to them. How could he keep pushing them away when they equalled the happiest moments of his life so far? Even with that awful incident, none of them were a part of the worst moments of his life. So, he let them fall back together and patch up the cracks in their friendship with jokes and pranks and throwing themselves towards war, knowing that it didn’t matter to him how they felt. They could pity him and fear him and be prepared to brush him away without a second thought again. He would die for them anyway.

Life after Hogwarts was predictably difficult. Employers wizarding and muggle alike did not look kindly on him taking sick leave less than a month after being hired and inevitably after the second Full Moon he was circling ads in the newspaper again. It wasn’t long before the Order of the Phoenix became his primary concern and though the very thought of seeing Greyback again made him felt akin to walking into hell, he found himself accepting the mission of the Order’s spy amongst the werewolves. Only Dumbledore knew the task he was undertaking, the majority of the Order having no idea of his condition and those who did he was forbidden to talk to them about it. Remus started to slip away from himself. He was incredibly lonely without being able to talk to his best friends and each minute with the werewolves brought more danger, more emotional strain, and more questions about whether he had ever really deserved his years pretending to be a normal wizard. The werewolves he had befriended didn’t understand why he would want to live amongst humans and there were others who would never be friendly with him as long as that was the case.

By 1981, Remus felt completely isolated. His mother died early in the year and his relationship with his father was worse than ever. Transformations with the Marauders were a distant memory and instead he spent his Full Moons forced into a life of violence he had always been determined to avoid. He barely saw any of the Order outside of meetings and his attendance at those was becoming increasingly difficult. When he did come back, it was hard to know his place in the meetings, unable to talk about what he had been doing and knowing so little about everybody else’s lives. Only Peter seemed to remember that he was missing so much and made a point of keeping Remus in the loop but so often that consisted of lost lives and disappearances and Remus came to dread the times he would sneak away from the packs. Talks of spies did not help. It was impossible for Remus to think of any of the Order as betraying them and he told the group as much, fiercely insisting that this was what the Death Eaters wanted ⁠— for them to be torn apart by their own paranoia.

So distant from it all, Remus did not realise how guilty he had made himself look until after it all was over. James was in hospital, basically gone, and Peter in Azkaban and it had only happened because Sirius suspected Remus. Fleeing from the werewolves the moment word reached him that the war was over turned out to be a bad idea because all of a sudden Remus found himself with nothing. The friendless and penniless life of the streets that his father had prepared him for was now a reality and he would rather sleep rough than face the guilt that if he had been there, if he had just disobeyed Dumbledore enough to tell the Marauders what he was involved in, if he had been a better friend to Peter, maybe none of this would have happened. It was better than facing Sirius, who was the one person he thought would understand that Remus could never betray them.

plot ideas —

I have always imagined James to be the one who is able to ground Remus and keep him together so without him there, Remus has spiralled. The memory of the Marauders is something bitter now, with Peter’s betrayal and the gaping hole that James leaves and this is a big part of Remus not making an effort to reconnect with Sirius. He definitely spends a lot of time next to James’ bed in St Mungo’s. Even now, if he needs to talk to someone, James is his first port of call. Remus’s certainty that James is never coming back means sometimes he will say things he wouldn’t voice otherwise. Maybe if James does wake up, he heard more than Remus wanted him to.

I would love some other werewolves and some plots involving those werewolves Remus did befriend during the war. He almost feels guilty for liking and empathising with some of them and hates that he relates to them but it had been nice to have people who really understood.

He’s trying to act like his life isn’t falling apart around him for Harry’s sake and so that he can still see Harry while trying to hold both Lily and Sirius at a distance. This will involve a lot of pretending that things aren’t as bad as they really are, that he can manage Full Moons alone and that he is finding legitimate ways to get a proper meal between offers of charity from old friends.

The love he once had for the Marauders is difficult to define. They were his found family and his brothers, the first friends he ever had, the only people he trusted with his whole self. The battle to come to terms with himself not only as a werewolf but a gay werewolf was something he never fully managed though had there been no war the Marauders would have got him there eventually. Now, he’s left wondering where the lines are between platonic and romantic love. The men in his life have been nothing but sex, his ability to trust having been broken too far for anything more. In terms of ships, Remus will be slow to get into anything and it would have to be based on chemistry and a gradual building of trust. He might wonder sometimes if he was in love with James though that is mostly because in his anger at Peter and Sirius he has transferred all the love he held for the Marauders as a unit onto James to make it easier to process the betrayal. It’s no longer the three of them he is grateful to for making Hogwarts the best seven years of his life, but James. No longer the three of them who made him feel worthy of love and friendship but James. In believing that, he can almost cope.

If he’s going to accept help from anybody these days it will be someone who was less a part of the war and who doesn’t have their own family to think about. Much as he values people like Mary and Frank for sticking by him through all the lowest points of his depression, they have their own lives away from him, their own children to consider and Remus feels guilty whenever they express any concern for him. I’d love for him to develop a friendship with someone who makes it easier for him to let others help him, and who might be able to offer him a place to stay more permanently.

extra —

in terms of the canon that Remus believed Sirius to be the spy, I’ve always headcanoned that as being after the war. He apologised to Sirius because he believed the world when they told him Sirius had betrayed the Potters but I can’t see Remus as having suspected that beforehand. I can’t see Remus being able to think badly of the three boys who became animagi for him, not until it’s all too late. Also, I have a general pinterest board for Remus here, though it includes things from various RPs

[j-estavez-blog]

Babywearing: A history, a why and a how-to

As a mother I never seem to have enough time during the day. Apart from having a daughter that is almost two years old, I also work full time whilst also trying to turn my passion for writing into a possible career. Most of the time she is happy to toddle around behind me, singing happily and dancing whilst repeating “mama” or the new word that she is currently trying to master at that given moment. However, sometimes she just wants to be in mummy's arms, and that is where we have a problem: mummy only two arms. This is where a subject that I am passionate about comes into play: babywearing.

I had made the decision to babywear before my daughter was even born for several different reasons. One, I live in a capital city and the closest metro to us doesn’t have a lift and due to my work schedule getting onto the metro in the morning would be mission impossible with a pram. Two, I hate being stuck at home and love being outside with my daughter but she obviously gets tired a lot faster than I do. And last but not least, I never wanted to get stuck waiting for someone to help me with the pram in the metro, and so I made the decision to ‘babywear’. 

Although it is now becoming more popular in mainstream culture, baby carrying has always existed. Back when the human race was still fairly nomadic, the women of the tribe would typically carry the young offspring in material (varying from culture to culture) whilst they went in search of food or did other tasks. This can still be seen in some African and Latin American cultures. However, it became less common in the UK during the time of Queen Victoria, who popularised the stroller by buying several of them for her children. The domino effect of this was that the pram then became sought after by the upper class, which also meant that the other classes wanted it to, thus making it the more mainstream option for those who could afford it, and baby wearing became the option for those who could not afford a pram. 

However, before making a decision I always look into both the pros and cons, especially when it comes to something as important as my daughter. The list of pros when it comes to babywearing is immense. I will start with the basics, babywearing allows your child to always be in their safeplace - with you. Due to this they spend less time crying and more time immersed in the world and what is going on which allows them to learn at a faster rate as their basic needs are being met. Due to being attached to the parent they also able to see more facial gestures and pick up more social cues from a very early age, leading to them being able to employ them from an earlier age too. Not to mention that babywearing also gives you a level of freedom which you might have thought that you had lost at one point. It gives you the ability to be able to use two hands to do things again back. But above all the main benefit has to be being able to have your little one close, especially for the mothers. Pregnancy is a magical time, more so in those last few weeks when you get used to every little kick and movement. Then, all of a sudden those kicks are gone and you find yourself with a little human being that has a body independent to your own. Babywearing builds upon that relationship that you started with your baby, allowing you to deepen the connection that you have with them. Personally, it is one of the best feelings when I am taking my daughter to nursery in the morning and she nuzzles into me because she feels safe there, or when I ask her for a cuddle and she rewards me with one. 

However, I don’t think cons is the correct word for this part, I think that a better fitted word for this is “warnings” or “how to wear”. Babywearing, when practiced correctly, poses little to no threat to the infant, but there are things that need to be looked out for. This process starts even before you wear the baby for the first time. As with everything, research is key. Before buying a baby carrier do your research. Find out which baby carrier suits your needs - this is based on the age of the baby, what you require from the carrier, even the climate that you live in affects the type of material. It is also vital that the carrier is ergonomic - which means that the baby has its legs in an ‘m’ position when they are big enough to be in one like that. 

Once you have the baby carrier I recommend that you practice with another person, putting the baby in and taking the baby out. This is so that you are used to it and to avoid possible injury to the baby. It is also vital that you revise the carrier frequently to check that it isn’t damaged and to avoid the possibility of it breaking when the child is in it. After babywearing for almost two years, I am still in the habit of checking my trusty baby carrier at least once a week. Once the baby is in, and this is mainly for newborns, make sure that the baby is able to breathe. This is moreso for winter than anything, when layers could easily cause an obstruction to the baby being able to breathe. 

Also, one of the main things that can be caused by incorrect baby wearing is hip problems in the infant. This is caused by bad positioning in the carrier. However, this is easy to avoid with a good knowledge on how to babywear correctly. I would be the first one to admit that I committed some of these errors whilst learning how to babywear correctly. The first and foremost, is that the baby must be facing the person carrying them and never outward. By placing the baby facing outward you are placing stain on their hips that could lead to them developing incorrectly. I was corrected, thankfully, the first time I did this by a midwife and have not done it since. Another point is that the baby’s legs must be in the frogs position, which is the most comfortable for them. By placing them in this ergonomic position you are also avoiding that the baby’s hips develop incorrectly, whilst at the same time making the time in the carrier super comfy for them. 

In conclusion, babywearing, when done correctly, offers a lot of benefits to the infant and for the parent. However, baby wearing isn’t just something that you should just jump into without doing the correct research, as if you do this, your child will be your lab rat in your experiment. Take your time, do your research, and enjoy every moment with your little one at your side. 

[unspokenfaith]

I Love You Most

Chapter Two: The Body Double | AO3

Pairings: Archie Andrews/Betty Cooper, Cheryl Blossom/Toni Topaz Rating: M Word Count: 2705 (Total: 5979) Prompt: Horror (Camp Riverdale) Summary: Archie and Betty search the woods, but instead of finding Jughead they meet someone they haven't seen in a while. Cheryl has had enough of the paranormal talk, refusing to engage in the idea that the lake house is unsafe. After coming across something she can't quite explain, she begins to think maybe they should be afraid.

Archie

After searching the perimeter of the lake house for nearly half an hour, he and Betty came to the conclusion that Jughead’s departure wasn’t intentional. But it also wouldn’t have been uncharacteristic for him to go off on his own when he was upset. Either way, he was somewhere deep in the woods by now, and they weren’t about to give up just yet.

If Archie had known how long they would be out here and how far they were going, he would’ve brought something to mark their path so they could easily find their way back, but by the time he thought of it, it was too late to go back. He figured as long as they traveled in a straight line they would be okay. Hopefully that’s what they had been doing.

They couldn’t think about that now though, not before finding Jughead at least.

He was surprised Betty was so eager to come along. Archie always thought that after the way things ended between them she never really wanted anything to do with him anymore. They barely spoke to each other since the night of the break-up, which he heard every word of through his bedroom window. Betty was the one to do it, yet she cried for hours that night. He couldn’t understand why. Sure, they dated for a long time, but considering the circumstances leading up to their separation, he couldn’t see what made him worth her tears. But maybe that was easier for him to say than for Betty to believe.

Archie had his own qualms with Jughead lately, particularly the way he reacted to the break-up, but he still wasn’t going to let him get lost in the middle of nowhere. 

“You know what this reminds me of?” Archie interrupted the long silence.

Betty didn’t break focus. “What?”

“That time in Ms. Williams’s class when we went on that field trip to the nature reserve and—”

“Oh, God.” Betty shook her head, laughing. “I shouldn’t even be laughing. That was terrifying.”

“Come on, that was funny!”

“To you maybe,” Betty said. “I had nightmares for weeks, and it was all your fault.”

“Me? What did I do?”

“You got us lost! I wanted to stay with the group and you convinced me we would find something cooler on our own.”

Archie laughed. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. But we did find cooler stuff.”

She turned around, giving him a look. “Oh, really? Like what?”

“Frogs?” He shrugged. “And hey, I was your knight in shining armor that day, remember? You thought that squirrel was going to kill you. You’re lucky I was there.”

“My hero,” Betty teased, but she smiled, and her eyes were bright—almost shining. It was the same look he had seen since they were kids, but something about it now made his heart flutter. 

Maybe it was the full moon, or maybe it was the fact that they were alone with nothing better to do, but he asked without really thinking, “Betty, do you still love Jughead?”

Her smile faded, and just as she was about to respond, Archie retracted his question. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.”

“No, it’s okay,” she said, sighing. “I don’t. I haven’t always been sure, but things are just...different now. And now that we’re broken up, sometimes I feel like….I don’t know, like….”

“Like you never did?” 

Betty looked him in the eyes. “Yeah...is that bad?”

Archie shook his head. “I think when you know, you know.”

Her gaze was so intense, he thought that maybe, just for a moment…

They were interrupted by a loud thud, a body hitting the ground.

Betty gripped his arm. “Arch, what was—”

“Shhh,” Archie said quietly and put his hand on top of hers. This was beginning to feel more like the field trip than he originally thought. Only this time he didn’t think it was a squirrel. 

He looked around for something to use as a weapon—a stick, a large rock, anything—as a small figure approached them, crunching the leaves beneath their feet.

Betty moved, shielding him with her body and facing the direction of whatever was coming towards them.

“Betty, don’t—”

Archie thought he had to be imagining things when the figure emerged from the shadows and into the moonlight.

“Ricky?”

“Ricky Dee,” the younger boy corrected.

Archie blinked, not entirely sure how to respond to the kid who stabbed him in the gut. 

“Wait...Ricky as in…” Betty looked between the two.

“Yeah, Ricky who almost killed me.”

Ricky groaned. “Do I have to do that again? It’s Ricky Dee.”

Archie held his arms up defensively. “Okay, okay. Sorry, Ricky Dee.” But then he wondered why he was apologizing.

“I’m sorry, but...what is going on?” Betty asked.

“Good question,” Archie said, turning to the boy. “What are you doing in the middle of the woods?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” Ricky Dee pointed out, and Betty rolled her eyes.

“Looking for someone.” Archie crossed his arms. “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”

Ricky Dee shrugged. “Look, dude, I’m just chilling.”

Betty caught Archie’s eye, and they both reacted at the same time. “Just chilling?”

“You mean to say you’re in the woods in the middle of the night just to...hang out?” Betty asked.

“And? What’s your point?”

Archie sighed. “Okay, seriously, kid. Have you seen Jughead?”

Ricky Dee’s eyes widened. “Jughead? What’s he up to now?”

“Nothing,” Betty said. “He’s lost...we think.”

“You don’t sound too sure about that,” Ricky Dee sneered.

Archie grabbed him by the jacket, and he squirmed, trying to free himself. 

“You’re going to show us where he is.”

Ricky Dee laughed. “I already told you. I know nothing about where Jugface, or whatever his name is—”

“Explain what you’re doing out here then,” Archie said. 

He looked from Archie to Betty then back to Archie, sighing. “Fine, I’ll do it. Can you let me go?”

Betty stepped forward. “Arch, are you sure this is a good idea? He doesn’t seem…”

“He’s our best bet right now. Besides, he’s not going to try anything,” Archie reasoned.

“What makes you so…” Ricky Dee was feeling around for something in his pocket, panicking when he couldn’t seem to find it. 

Archie held up a blade he pulled off him. “Looking for this?” He handed it back to Betty, who seemed reluctant at first, but she took it anyway and pointed it in Ricky Dee’s direction.

“Go.”

Ricky Dee rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah I’m going,” then in a lower voice, “This is so stupid.” 

They let him wander ahead, but not too far ahead, while he tried to settle on a direction for them to travel in. Meanwhile, Betty and Archie hung back, just enough to be out of earshot. 

“I have a bad feeling about this,” Betty said.

“What, him?”

“Not just that, but this.” She gestured around them at the woods. “We shouldn’t have gone this far. I mean, would Jughead really have come all the way out here?”

“Maybe not,” Archie said, looking at Ricky Dee. “Unless someone took him.”

“But what’s his motive?”

“I don’t know, but we know what he’s capable of.”

“I can hear you!” Ricky Dee interjected. “If you want me to help, you’ll have to be nice to me.”

“We don’t have to do anything.” Betty held the knife up again, which led him to turn back around and keep walking. 

“You’re all going to regret this,” he muttered. 

Having completely lost any concept of time, the group wandered for a while. It could’ve been an hour, maybe two, maybe half the night. No one said anything for a long time. Ricky Dee ran out of smart comments he thought no one else heard, and Betty and Archie were determined to keep an eye on him. 

Eventually, they approached the edge of the lake. It was beautiful here, the way the moon reflected on the water and the crickets chirped quietly from every direction, filling what would’ve been an eerie silence. Archie wished they could enjoy it properly from Veronica’s lake house, but there was time for that later.

“Can we stop for a minute? I’m tired,” Ricky Dee complained.

Archie looked at Betty and she nodded.

“Fine,” Archie said. “But only for a minute. And we’re still keeping an eye on you.”

A minute turned into at least ten while Betty and Archie took the opportunity to sit down and rest. Ricky Dee walked along the shoreline, kicking pebbles into the water. Betty wrapped her arms around her legs and rested her chin on her knees, looking up at the sky. She almost looked surreal from where he sat, with the moon shining in her eyes. She didn’t look cold, but a large part of him wanted to hold her anyway.

Fortunately—or maybe not—Ricky Dee waved his arms and yelled, “Uh, guys, you might want to come here.”

They both shot up and rushed over to where Ricky Dee was standing.

“What is it?” Archie asked.

“Arch.” Betty grabbed his arm, looking down at the water. 

He wasn’t sure how he missed it before as they came over, but a body lied under the water, face down and covered in blood. Ricky Dee walked in and bent down, turning the body over. 

“Oh my, God.” Betty hid her face in Archie’s shoulder, and he already felt a tear.

It seemed impossible, but there she was. Covered in fresh stab wounds, Veronica was motionless at the bottom of the lake.

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

Cheryl

“Hey, guys! False alarm. Jughead’s back,” Kevin yelled up the stairs. 

Cheryl and Toni had been hiding out in one of the bedrooms, waiting for everything to blow over. After Jughead, who became Serpent King in all but five minutes of being a Serpent, kicked Fangs and Toni out of the gang, there wasn’t a lot of forgiveness going around. Cheryl couldn’t blame them either. She was exiled, too, but it was much more personal for Toni and Fangs, who were born and raised Serpents. 

As someone who never cared either way for Jughead, Cheryl couldn’t understand why he came at all. Going on a relaxing weekend trip with your ex and a group of people who despised you didn’t sound appealing. But truthfully, she didn’t care why he was here. She was happy to get away from some time. Unfortunately, the relaxation part didn’t last too long.

“He really had everyone worried about him over nothing,” Toni said, rolling her eyes. “And they’re still out there in the woods somewhere looking for him.”

“Shouldn’t we go find them?” Cheryl asked.

Toni shook her head. “They could be anywhere by now. There’s no point in getting everyone else lost too.” She took Cheryl’s hand, locking their fingers together. “They have each other. They’ll be okay.”

Cheryl smiled, pressing her lips to Toni’s then falling back on the bed. “This is so not what I was expecting from this weekend.”

Toni raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Okay, I guess I’m not that surprised. But we couldn’t have just one weekend, or even one day?”

“Hey, like you said, this could be nothing,” Toni said. “It’s just a game, right?”

Cheryl gave her a look. “You think someone’s going to die, don’t you?”

“I don’t know...maybe? I’ve never played Ouija before, but it seems kind of serious. Don’t you think with everything else that’s happened it isn’t really that...out there?”

“I guess,” Cheryl sighed. “But I am not going ghost hunting.” 

Toni smiled and brushed a piece of Cheryl’s hair behind her ear. “Did you bring the face masks?”

“Yes!” She shot up and rushed over to her suitcase, shuffling through her clothes to find her makeup bag. 

“Hey…” Toni eyed the door. “No one else is up here right?”

“I don’t think so. Why?”

“Nothing,” she said, shaking off whatever was bothering her. 

“Found them!” Cheryl held up the bottles. 

Toni followed her out to the hallway, where they were met with silence. Not a single voice or sound from downstairs. 

“Did everyone go outside?”

Toni shrugged. “Maybe they’re looking for Betty and Archie.”

“Hm, must be,” Cheryl said, walking towards the bathroom. Suddenly she caught a whiff of something—she couldn’t quite put her finger on it. Metallic, but also a mixture of must and dirt. But that was normal given the house was right on the lake. She just didn’t recall smelling it before, but she must’ve. 

“This is adorable.” Toni picked up the shell-shaped soap holder next to the sink. She turned around, eyeing the towel racks. “Aww! They have them on here, too.”

“What’s this?” Cheryl picked up a piece of paper that was next to the soap. “‘Enjoy your visit, Veronica. See you soon! XO.’ What, no ‘mija?’” 

“Mask, please.” 

Cheryl handed her one of the bottles, then observed her face in the mirror. “Ugh, my skin is so dry.”

“Do you need moisturizer?” 

“No, that’s okay. I brought some. I’ll be right back,” she said, leaving the mask on the sink and walking back out to the hallway. 

As she was about to enter the bedroom, that unfamiliar smell came back. Cheryl looked across the hallway to the closed door—another bedroom? She held her hand out over the knob without quite touching it. Maybe it was a linen closet and the smell was old, unwashed beach towels. The only thing holding her back was the words of a Ouija board, and Cheryl did not believe in ghosts.

She opened the door.

It was a closet—not for linen, but for what appeared to be storage. Lots of old, worn boxes stacked on top of each other. She left the door open, not because she was paranoid, but because she needed light to see. The smell did seem to be stronger in here, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything. Who knows what the Lodges, or anyone before them, left in here. There was a suitcase—a nice one, too—amongst the boxes, which Cheryl did find odd. 

Crouching down, she moved the zipper slightly then stopped. She wasn’t sure what she was expecting to find—a dead body, a collection of knives—but she was relieved to see nothing but household odds and ends. Cheryl opened the suitcase all the way, pushing the top back. An old oil lantern, a few used candles, and a picture frame turned over. Curiosity provoked her, so she picked it up.

It was Veronica. Veronica and some man she didn’t recognize. He looked about their age, maybe a little older, with light, slicked back hair and a rather large, hooked nose. Whoever he was looked nothing like Veronica, but he must’ve been family. 

Then she saw the small print in the corner. Mr. and Mrs. Bains, May 2006. 

Cheryl inhaled sharply. So it wasn’t Veronica, but a miraculous look-alike. And just so happened to occupy the same lake house before the Lodges. Suddenly the Ouija board spirit didn’t sound so crazy.

There was no reason to be alarmed. Veronica probably already knew. She had to know. Cheryl didn’t have to bring this up. She could go back to the bathroom and do face masks with Toni, enjoy the rest of her weekend, and none of this would ever matter.

She stood up, brushing the dust off her legs and heading back to the door. The floor board beneath her squeaked, but when she looked down her foot was not on the floor, but an old carpet. 

Cheryl didn’t turn around, but she glanced towards the back of the closet where the light couldn’t reach. She held her breath and kept going, closing the door behind her.

Toni smiled when she re-entered the bathroom, her face completely green. “Sorry, I was bored. I had to put it on.”

“Toni…”

Her face fell, taking Cheryl’s hand. “What is it? Are you okay?”

“I think there’s something else in this house,” she whispered.

“Like what? Did you see a ghost?” 

Cheryl shook her head, biting her lip to keep her voice from cracking. “I think it’s a person.”

As soon as she said it, she thought she heard a door open in the hallway.

[otheroutlandertales]

@scotsmanandsassenach sent us the following picture as a prompt: 

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5 

Witches - Part 6

by @whiskynottea

Claire had spent all morning trying to track down Raymond while cursing the fact that her time-travelling abilities hadn’t landed her in front of him -- even though she had focused as hard as she could on her beloved frog-man while touching her necklace stone.

But she was, at the very least, in the right time.

She had forgotten how terribly loud everything was in the future. It gave her a headache, to listen to the hum of mechanical sounds all around her, ongoing, everlasting, annoying. Her mind ached for a chirp, for the rustle of leaves dancing in the wind, for simple, beautiful things.

Belatedly, she realized she didn’t long for 18th century Paris. What she missed, was Scotland. Lallybroch.

But she had a purpose here and time was pressing.

She had checked every pharmacy in the area. After awkward conversation upon awkward conversation with clueless pharmacists, she arrived at the conclusion that Raymond owned none of them. Which was totally unexpected. Wasn’t a pharmacist the modern translation of an apothecary? What was he doing, now? Where was he?

It was relentlessly hot, and she was sticky with sweat. She was thirsty and tired, and even though time travel had been easier this time without carrying Jenny and Ceana along, and nausea had subsided within the first hour in the future, she felt weary. And impatient. Time was wearing thin, and fear crept inside her heart.

What if she failed at finding Raymond?

Claire drew a deep breath and shook her head to scatter the ominous thoughts.

She continued walking on the sidewalk, looking at the Parisians as they passed by her in hopes that he’d simply appear before her eyes. Nobody graced her with a second glance, and, for once, she felt grateful for the self-absorption of the modern world.

She walked by a boulangerie, and the scent coming from inside, butter, sugar and flour mixed in heavenly doughs made her stop in her tracks. Without meaning to do it, her head turned for an infinitesimally short moment, to look longingly at the baguettes and fresh croissants.

Her eyes got wide, and she felt her heart dance in her chest at the echo of a tune he had taught her when she was a child. Raymond was there, smiling at the cashier and turning to leave with a pain au chocolat in hand.

Good gracious!

His eyes went as wide as hers the moment he glanced at the door. Claire stood shock-still and Raymond assumed a nonchalant walk until he was by her side.

“Pretend you don’t know me,” he murmured.

Claire tried to suppress the urge to hug him and scowled at him instead. She didn’t speak. Still wondering what all this was about, she noticed the small gesture of his hand as he stepped in front of her; she followed him, a few steps behind.

She kept a reasonable distance behind him until they were outside the crowded part of the city centre. She had almost lost him among the tourists in front of Notre Dame, and a feeling of despair rushed through her. Just as panic started to set in, she spotted him again. Raymond had reduced his pace allowing her to catch up to him. Finally, when they left the busy streets, they walked alongside one another.

“It’s not safe,” he said, still not looking at her. “You’re not safe.”

Her throat suddenly was too tight for air pass through. She felt her heart constrict in her chest, her palms slick with sweat. This was not what she expected to find in this time.

They were supposed to be safe. They left home and split up for this exact reason -- to be sure no one could trace them. Maybe seeking out Master Raymond was wrong. She could see what he meant now. He had taken the hardest path, traveling to the future to draw them away from her.

Flashes of enemies calling her La Dame Blanche in that narrow Parisian alleyway made it difficult for her to process the words he was saying. It was daytime now, but that terrifying night still had the power to wake her in the dead of the night, when her guard was down.

Claire matched Raymond’s every step, thinking. He had sent her to the Scottish Highlands to be safe and she had ruined everything by traveling back to him. She dared a glance at Raymond. His face was somber, his eyes fixed on the end of the street. But his lips were pressed together, in that thin line that was indication enough of how irritated he was.

They took two more turns, the sun now hidden between tall buildings. Raymond checked the vacant alley carefully, then dipped a hand inside his pocket. Keys clinked for a moment midair, then the largest one was in the lock, and he softly opened the door. He didn’t look at Claire, just entered the building and let the door swing back, stopping it a moment before it slammed shut.

Claire moved towards the door, repeated Raymond’s inspection of the alley with a quick turn of her head, and followed him.

He was waiting for her just behind the door, and his grim expression vanished the moment she smiled at him.

“Ah, mon cherie,” he whispered, then crushed her in his embrace. “What in God’s name are you doing here?”

“I needed your help. And your advice,” Claire said with a bashful smile.

“I see. Let’s go upstairs.” He looked at the narrow stairs, then back at her. It was as if he didn’t mean to, but her smiled again. “You will tell me everything over a cup of hot chocolate.”

“Oh, hot chocolate,” Claire moaned in a dreamy voice, then followed him up the stairs.

His apartment was small, but it held a warmth in it. Bright sunlight shone through the wide windows, flourishing ethereal, streaks of dust above the furniture. A small table, overloaded with books, a comfortable couch, two armchairs. The walls were covered with bookshelves, interrupted by two impressionist paintings that looked suspiciously like originals.

Raymond nodded towards the kitchen, then asked her, in a serious tone, why she had come. She saw displeasure and fear in his eyes. “I told you to avoid risks, especially so soon.”

Claire nodded, aware of the peril of the situation. “I won’t stay long.”

“No, you won’t.” His voice was determined, and she saw the man Comte St. Germain had learned to be afraid of. Raymond reached for the milk in the fridge, then turned to look at her and his expression softened. “Are you well? In Scotland?”

A wide grin spread on Claire’s face. “I never expected to say that after parting with you, but I have found something as close to a family I can ever get.” At Raymond’s raised eyebrow, she continued. “I know I’ve not been there that long, but it feels like family. And my sister, Jenny, is an oracle -- a very powerful one. She’s the reason I knew where to look for you.”

Raymond sighed, his shoulders dropping a few inches, and a soft smile loosened up the tension on his face. “At least you brought me good news, Madonna. I was concerned about you.” Pouring hot chocolate into a large mug, he passed it to her. He took his own from the counter and headed to the formal living room.

“Why do you think it’s not safe here?” Claire asked once she was seated in the lavish armchair.

“It’s not what I ‘think’. I know it’s not. This is the third apartment I’ve lived in since being here.” He scratched his jaw, avoiding her eyes for a moment, selective with his next words. “Life is dangerous, Madonna.”

“Why don’t you go somewhere else? To another time?” she asked without giving it great thought. It was the obvious thing to do.

Raymond smiled wistfully. “The more I travel, the more he’ll travel. I’m not a young man anymore, and I’m tired of getting chased across the centuries.”

Claire nodded without fully comprehending. If he asked her opinion, she would advise him to run to another time and let the Comte search for him.

“It doesn’t matter.” Raymond’s voice was sweet and made Claire’s head pop up to look at him. He looked older than the last time she’d seen him. “What matters is to keep you safe. So you better tell me now, why are you here?”

“I want to save someone. A boy who’s to be executed without a trial, by an abusive redcoat, drunk on power.” Raymond lifted both eyebrows, but didn’t say a thing. “I need a poison, something that will make him look like he’s dead. I’m thinking of a neurotoxin that would induce paralysis. And the antidote, of course.”

“And how exactly is this plan going to work?” he asked, placing his now empty cup on the table.

“He will drink the poison the morning of his execution. When they’ll visit his cell he will seem already dead. And then we will retrieve him and I will heal him -- if I can.”

“I’m happy to hear doubt in your voice, Madonna, because healing a person when he’s so close to the other side is not an easy feat.” He paused and looked at her for a long moment. “But then, you should trust in your power.”

“It’s not something I have tried before…” Claire trailed off when she saw him shaking his head.

“In life, mon cherie, we do things we’ve never tried before. Things that lie in an unknown, terrifying ground. It’s not the deed itself, it’s who we are that determines our success. The most important step you have to take, is to believe in yourself. And then, to learn your limits and push through them. It’s the only way you’ll become better, even if that means you’ll fail again and again before gaining a victorious smile. No one ever gained a full life by staying in their comfort zone. And you’re the White Raven.”

Claire buried her face in her hands and rubbed her temples. “I’m the White Raven and I found you on accident. How pathetic is that.”

Raymond chuckled. “At least you’re lucky. Luck is often underestimated.” He looked at Claire, with another wistful smile. “But you can’t count on luck. Anyway,” he said. “Now we have to decide on the poison. I’m thinking atropa belladonna or hemlock. Maybe aconite. I’m also thinking that if you had read the books I’d given you, you would know by now what is safe to use and you wouldn’t have to travel through time to consult me.”

Claire grimaced and placed a hand over her heart, as if a deadly wound had been inflicted on her. Raymond laughed.

“I wanted to be sure,” she said a moment later. “I don’t want to kill him by accident. I thought of curare, too. It affects the lungs, but not the heart. Maybe it will be easier for me to bring him back.”

“Oh yes, good choice,” Raymond murmured. “Very good choice. Maybe sharing my herb encyclopedias with you hasn’t been in vain, after all.” He grinned slyly, then shot out of his chair and hurried toward the door. “I have a pharmacist or two I can trust. I’ll go get the curare. And you'll need some pyridostigmine or neostigmine, too. As an antidote.”

“Or edrophonium!” Claire shouted, still seating in her armchair. Her limbs were still heavy, and she luxured in the feel of the slippery silk that covered the sturdy dark wood.

Raymond stilled at her addition, nodded, and opened the door. “Don’t leave the house,” he warned, and left.

Claire distracted herself while waiting for Raymond first by looking out the window, then by perusing his library. Her eyes widened with elation when she saw A Review of Chemical Literature (Specialist Periodical Reports) standing thin next to an immense tome of human anatomy.

It was published only a few months ago. This must be her lucky day, afterall. Thirty minutes later, she knew that the duration of curare’s action had a range from 30 minutes to 8 hours, depending on the variant of the toxin and dosage. Alex’s respiratory system would paralyze and even while being conscious, he would be unable to control any muscle of his body. It would take four to six minutes to make his heart stop. Four to six minutes to get him out and heal him.

Mere minutes. Claire’s own heart shrank inside her chest, threatening to stop as she held her breath. She would have too little time. She might not get to him fast enough.

The door opened and Claire started at the intrusion. She hadn’t heard Raymond walking up the stairs.

Claire turned slowly to face him, waving the journal in her hand and grinning, ready to show him how she had embraced his love for reading. Before she had fully faced the door though, she froze.

It wasn’t Raymond. This man didn’t wear the silken brocade vest and coat she had last seen him in, but she would recognize him everywhere.

The Comte.

His expression was not belligerent; instead, his posture was relaxed. He was grinning at her, calm and arrogant. He stood tall, with beautiful blue eyes and strong cheekbones, and she thought he might have been beautiful if he were not so terrifying. His cold stare made a shiver run down her spine and all she wanted was to recoil and hide.

“Finally,” he said, and Claire could almost see triumph thick in the air around him. “We meet again.”

She stepped back and her shoulder hit the bookcase. She was trapped. But she wouldn’t be defeated. She looked the Comte in the eye, defiant, daring him to approach her.

A chuckle left him, low in his throat, in a way a hunter might laugh at his prey. Claire didn’t trust herself to talk. Her hands were shaking. As though he had sensed the nearly imperceptible movement of her long fingers, a scent of her fear, he took a step, coming closer. “You’re coming with me.”

It was then that realization dawned on her. He didn’t want her dead, as she had thought all this time. He needed her to be alive, because this was the only way he could benefit from her.

She was ready to decline his offer when she heard Raymond’s voice from behind the Comte. “No, she’s not.”

Claire saw the small man crouch, then slid a package on the wooden floor to her. The moment she got it in her hands, Raymond spoke again, his voice clear as a bell. “Fly. Now!”

“Don’t you dare.” The Comte’s menacing voice made her look up at him. He was holding a gun, pointing it at her.

Claire shot a last, regretful glance at Raymond, clutched the package close to her chest, and touched the stone of her necklace with her free hand. She didn’t have time to think. She closed her eyes, and felt the stone’s vibration running through her together with a burning flash on her shoulder.

She squeezed her eyes tighter, heard the Comte walking closer to her, and disappeared.

Part 7

[raisingsupergirl]

You Don't Know What You Don't Know

In today's information age, everyone's an expert. Broken dishwasher? Just YouTube it. Wondering who that actor is? IMDB it. Want a DIY chicken coop? Google it. Trying to find an unending stream of #fakenews and fear mongering? Log into Facebook. The problem is, well… we don't always know what the actual problem is. We see the symptoms. We know what we want—the end result—but we're not always sure how to get there. And a quick Google search is all we have the patience for before we jump to conclusions and then blame someone or something else for our failure. Take my recent plunge into fishkeeping, for example.

I've always been an animal lover. I think it's innate in all of us, but not everyone has the right disposition or upbringing to appreciate animal/plant husbandry. As for me, I grew up in the Missouri wilderness surrounded by ponds, cliffs, streams, fields, and forests. Sure, I spent my fair share of time on the Super Nintendo System, but being in the great outdoors was engrained in me from a young age. And more than that, I learned to appreciate the other things out there. I kept just about every animal you could imagine at one time or another (dogs, cats, birds, fish, lizards, frogs, newts, rodents of all varieties, snakes, chickens, geese, goats, a squirrel, a ferret, a raccoon, and even a short-tailed opossum, off the top of my head), and though I was pretty irresponsible with most of them (ignoring for a second that I should have just left them where I found them in nature), I loved nurturing them, and I kept most of them alive. So when my city-girl daughter said she wanted a fish for her fourth birthday, a little piece of my past reignited, and I… may have gone a little overboard.

First, my mom still had the 35-gallon aquarium she bought me for my birthday a couple of decades ago. Back then I just winged it. I didn't have Google. I didn't come from a long line of aquarists. I just filled the thing up with well water, a cheap bag of gravel, a log I found floating in my pond, and the cheapest fish I could find at my local Walmart (yes, Walmart sold fish back then). Of course the tank was full of algae and dead fish in no time, but I kept at it, and eventually I had a few fish that didn't eat each other, but ultimately it wasn't what I knew it could be, so I set the fish "free" in my pond and put a snake in the tank instead.

I used the tank again in college with similar results, only this time I had a filter, did occasional water changes, and had just a few friendly fish, so it was much more successful, though still very "low tech," as they say in the hobby. Since then, I've matured (please hold all sarcasm until the end), and I've learned the value of researching something before attempting it. The change started in physical therapy school when I spent countless hours dissecting and writing scientific papers. It was the literal worst, but it taught me so much about the world. Rather, it taught me how to learn about any particular aspect of the world. You see, in these classes, we weren't allowed to just read the abstract and regurgitate the experimenters' assumptions. We had to read every line, go back and read every line of the sources they cited, and then, once we understood every word, we could start forming our own opinions on the subject. And believe it or not, I rarely found a paper that wasn't skewed toward the writer's desired result in some small way.

So now we get to the heart of things—you don't know what you don't know until you know it. And you won't know it unless you put in the time. We're living in an age of instant gratification. Because there's so much information out there, we only have time to skim. Otherwise we wouldn't have any time to actually live. I recently ran across an inspiration quote by science fiction author Robert Heinlein's character, Lazarus Long:

"A human being should be able to change a diaper, plan an invasion, butcher a hog, conn a ship, design a building, write a sonnet, balance accounts, build a wall, set a bone, comfort the dying, take orders, give orders, cooperate, act alone, solve equations, analyze a new problem, pitch manure, program a computer, cook a tasty meal, fight efficiently, die gallantly. Specialization is for insects."

Sure. Easy for Lazarus to say. As his name suggests, he was over 200 years old and counting at the time of his above quotation (and that's to say nothing of Heinlein's, uh, colorful political and philosophical views). But even still, his words are a nice sentiment, and they resonate with our current zeitgeist. We all want to be experts at everything, but we just don't have the time to do it. So we become Jacks-of-all-trades, and masters of none. And thus, with the dehumanizing help of social media, we get into a lot of stupid fights.

But I digress. Back to my aquarium example. Giving in to my excitement and desire for my daughter to experience thy "joys" of fishkeeping, I reverted to the impulsiveness of my youth. And of the twelve fish I bought those first few months, I killed half of them. Why? Because I didn't take the time to learn about taking a new tank through the nitrogen cycle. I knew nothing of ammonium, nitrite, or nitrate. I didn't know how to promote bacterial colonies in the filter media. And when I decided to add a few live plants to the mix, I didn't know the difference between submersed and submerged, or that PetCo didn't care about selling you "aquatic" plants that would die 100% of the time if completely under water. And that's saying nothing about water pH, alkalinity, fertilizers (NPK, micronutrients, root tabs versus liquid fertilizers, etc), carbon (CO2) availability, substrate differences, etc., etc. I just thought, "these are pretty" with dozens of plants and fish from completely different, delicately balanced ecosystems around the world, and then expected them to flourish when crammed together in the petri dish that was my, er, my daughter's aquarium.

I'll be the first to say that I suck at chemistry. It was the only "C" I received in college. Too many dry facts and things I couldn't visualize. Too much like math. But over the past few months, I've forced myself to dig into the periodic table and the chemical processes of dozens of elements and compounds in order to BEGIN understanding the aquatic world. I'm still so far away from having a solid grasp on the process, but at least I now know what I don't know. And that's a start. And it's a valuable reminder of the ignorance of mankind.

As a physical therapist, it often baffles me when my highly intelligent friends and family don't understand their own bodies. These people are experts in their fields. They're fluent in areas that I'll never even begin to understand. And yet, they can't figure out the simplest causes of their own various aches and pains. And thus, they become easy prey for fad diets, snake oils, and cure-alls. In health and fitness, especially, our connected, opinion-fueled society is playing the willing victim. Like politics and philosophy, we all know there are problems, and we see "experts" offering their solutions constantly, and social media algorithms are feeding into this problem by inundating our news feeds with like-minded (no matter how wrong) individuals. We think, "Hey, everything I see reinforces my ideas, so the must be right!" But really, we're still living in the same high-walled isolation we've always lived in. We just have weapons that can shoot farther now.

So remember, if you haven't spent hundreds of hours researching and forming your opinion, you're probably not right. Maybe you have an idea. It may even be a good idea. But life is complex. It spans millennia of philosophers, scientists, and soldiers. Even if WebMD says you have terminal cancer, you should still probably see an actual MD before you throw in the towel. Because, contrary to Lazarus Long's inspiring sentiment, humanity can still find value in specialization. Life is rich and deep, so take the time to dig.

[blueares]

Ruination Rewrite: Bilgewater

Bilgewater Part I

The next day, you step into the map room to find that all the Sentinels have already gathered… All but one.

“Where’s Jayce?”

“Aren’t we missing somebody?”

Jayce: “Sorry for the wait, everyone. It took longer than I thought, but the Mercury Hammer MK II is ready to go.”

Gwen: “My goodness! That’s quite the contraption you’ve made, Mr. Hammer.”

Lucian: “Hot damn, you really pulled it off? Hextech plus Relicstone… Think you could upgrade one of my guns, son?”

Jayce: “If I had a proper lap here, maybe. That said, the MK II is still in its experimental phases. I’ll need to test it out in the field to get more conclusive data.”

“Uh, that thing won’t explode, right?”

“So you don’t even know if it works?”

Jayce: “I wouldn’t expect you to understand. I just need some targets to test this baby out on.”

Senna: “Then I guess you’re in luck. If there are no objections, our next stop is Buhru in the Blue Flame Isles. We were in contact with the Sentinel outpost there when it fell, but with any luck, Fetu and his allies may have survived.”

“No objections here, ma’am!”

“Destination set! Next stop: the Blue Flame Isles!”

In a flash, the Wayfinder brings you to Buhru, where you quickly find that the Sentinel Outpost stands in ruins. You look around briefly, hoping for some sign of Fetu, but to no avail.

Riven: “Doesn’t look like anyone’s here.”

Lucian: “Plenty of Mist, though. The fetter’s bound to be around here, somewhere.”

You peer out across the ocean toward the neighboring isles, hoping for some clue as to what direction the Black Mist is heading. As you search, you hear stones skidding behind you, as well as the cocking of a gun.

???: “Nobody move!”

You wheel around to see a scruffy-looking man with a sizable, double-barreled cannon staring you down.

???: “Well well, looks like I finally caught the perpetrators in the act.”

“Perpetrators? Whatever you think we’ve done, we’re innocent!”

“Uh, I think there’s been some kind of misunderstanding…”

Graves: “Uh huh. You really think it’s that ease to pull one over on Malcom Graves? Only one man I know who can make a whole group of people appear in an instant. So…”

Graves casually places a cigar in his mouth, his shotgun leveled at you the entire time.

Graves: “I’m gonna give you all one chance to fess up ‘fore I blow ya into the water. Where the hell is Twisted Fate!?”

Bilgewater Part II

“Twisted Fate? That’s a dumb name.”

“Twisted Fate? That’s an awesome name!”

Graves response 1: “That’s what I keep tellin’ him, but… Oh no, you’re not gonna distract me that easy.”

Graves response 2: “…Son, you got a lot to learn, not that you’ll have the chance if ya don’t fess up!”

Diana: “We know no one by that name. It was the Wayfinder’s light that brought us here.”

Graves: “The what now? Now you’re just makin’ up-”

Graves is cut short as the sound of wagon wheels suddenly fills the air, accompanied by the sound of inhuman growling.

Olaf: “Wait! Something approaches!”

Graves: “Ah hell, he’s back!”

Suddenly, a shadow passes over you and the other Sentinels. You gaze up to witness something that defies belief: an undead warrior riding through the air on a chariot pulled by a trio of spectral sharks.

Lucian: “…You have got to be kidding me.”

Jayce: “Heads up! That thing’s coming right for us!”

Sure enough, the charioteer turns around and makes a divebomb right for your group. At Senna’s command, the Sentinels open fire, causing the spectral sharks to turn and slam into the ruins. The charioteer soon loses control and finds himself being dragged back out to sea, vanishing into the Black Mist.

Graves: “Well I’ll be… That bastard’s been followin’ me for days, but he didn’t so much as flinch when I shot at him! You all, though… You actually managed to scare him off!”

“We’re Sentinels. It’s what we do.”

“Our guns are better than yours.”

Shen: “We haven’t the time to boast. We must find the fetter as soon as possible.”

Graves: “Now hold on a damn minute! You lot still haven’t told me where my partner is!”

Vayne: “Don’t know, don’t care. You’re outnumbered and outgunned, so I’d suggest you get out of the way before we BLOW you into ocean.”

Gwen: “I’m terribly sorry, Mr. Scruffy. I do wish we could help you find your friend, but we… Oh!”

As Gwen approaches Graves, a familiar light emanates from her chest. That same begins to shine from an item on Graves’ belt. Perplexed, Graves unhooks the item in question to reveal a silver handbell that resonates with Gwen and Senna.

Graves: “What in tarnation?”

“It’s the fetter!”

“He’s got it!”

Jayce: “Huh. That was surprisingly easy.”

The Sentinels quickly advance on Graves, who tries to keep you at bay by raising his shotgun.

Graves: “Now hold on a minute. I’ve still got a lot of questions for you all, and- What the!?”

A familiar shadow appears behind Graves and snatches the bell from his hand.

Vex: “I’ll just be taking that.”

Vex turns and begins running further inland, fetter in hand.

Graves: “Hey! Come back here you little rodent!”

Senna: “She’s got the fetter! Sentinels, after her!”

Bilgewater Part III

The Sentinels give chase through the thick vegetation of Buhru, pushing through the undead that try to hinder their path. Vex and her shadow remain a step ahead, getting further and further away despite your best efforts.

Graves: *Pant. Pant.* “Get back here with my meal ticket, ya little rascal!”

Vayne: “Why is he still here?”

Senna: “Nevermind him! Just don’t lose sight the fetter!”

Graves: “This is why I hate yordles!”

“Shen, can’t you do something?”

“Jayce, can’t you do something?”

Shen (if option 1 is picked): “Something in this land is barring my entry to the Spirit Realm! We will have to pursue on foot!”

Jayce (if option 2 is picked): “Sorry, I used up my last Acceleration Gate back in Viktor’s lab! Haven’t had a chance to make more!”

With no other options, you continue to follow Vex on foot. Finally, you see her racing up a flight of stone stairs toward before vanishing from sight. By the time you reach the top of the stairs, all that awaits you is an empty village.

Riven: “Where did she go!?”

Lucian: “Damn it… We lost her.”

Senna: “She can’t have gotten far! Spread out and search for her!”

On Senna’s command, you and the other Sentinels fan out across the village, searching through the remnants of homes for any trace of Vex and the fetter.

Graves: “Tch. No sign of the furball anywhere. It’s just like Tobias always says: don’t mess with yordles.”

“Tobias? You mean Twisted Fate?”

“Why are you following me?”

Graves response 1: “Yup. Tobias Felix. Better known, for better or worse, as Twisted Fate. But, uh, you didn’t hear his real name from me, got it?”

Graves response 2: “Well, given my prior experience with yordles, I’m thinkin’ you could use the backup.” (Better you get turned into a frog this time instead of me, kid.)

You and Graves continue to explore the village together, peeking into abandoned houses and under crumbling serpent statues. Your search yields no results, until…

*BOOM!*

A building further uphill suddenly explodes, starling you and Graves to your feet.

“What was that!?”

“Please tell me there aren’t exploding ghosts here.”

Graves: “No idea, but in my professional experience, runnin’ TOWARD explosions ain’t exactly conventionally wise. That said, conventional wisdom also don’t make much of a profit in Bilgewater. Come on!”

You follow Graves toward the source of the explosion to the burning building. You find Vex laying on the ground, pulling herself out of the fire.

Vex: *Cough* *Wheeze* “WHAT THE HECK!? Did you seriously just try to BLOW ME UP!?”

A figure leans down to snatch the fetter out of Vex’s hand, keeping a gun trained on her the entire time.

???: “I know it’ll take more than THAT to kill a yordle, but your little shadow friend won’t be disturbin’ us for a while, at least. Now then, what have we here…?”

Graves: “Oh hell. Are my eyes playin’ tricks on me? That can’t be…”

???: “Malcolm Graves. Well well, today is just full o’ surprises!”

Graves: “Damn. It IS you. You’re supposed to be dead! Ah, but hell… This is the Mist’s doin’ too, ain’t it? Missy fortune blew you and your ship to the bottom of the ocean!”

???: “Oh I remember, but much like the yordle here, it’ll take more than a few dozen barrels of gunpowder to kill ME.”

“Uh, sorry to interrupt, but I’m gonna need that bell, if you don’t mind.”

“Wow, that was pretty impressive, taking down Vex like that. Now, about the fetter…”

???: “Hmph. What’s this, Graves? Got yourself a new partner? Good. I can send him to the bottom of the sees with ya!”

Graves: “Kid, remember what I said earlier about conventional wisdom? Well, this here’s just plain common sense: you don’t wanna pick a fight with Gangplank.”

Bilgewater Part IV

Gangplank stares you down as the flames burn behind him. Wraiths begin to emerge from the Mist all around you, drawn by the commotion, but seem hesitant to approach. Behind you, the Sentinels race onto the scene, weapons ready.

Lucian: “Rookie, what’s goin’ on?”

“This old pirate took the fetter!”

“This old pirate managed to take down Vex!”

Diana: “Seriously? Maybe we should invite HIM to join us.”

Gangplank: “I’m not interested in joinin’ YOUR crew, girl. I’m getting back my own, and this bell here… This bell’s the key to doing just that.”

Shen: “You know not what you hold. Surrender the fetter, or there will be consequences.”

Olaf: “Don’t just stand around and threaten him! Let’s grab it!”

Vayne: “For once, I agree with this idiot.”

The Sentinels quickly begin to advance on Gangplank, only to find themselves unable to take a single step toward him. Looking down, you see a massive shadow spanning the ground beneath your feet. Vex quickly stands and brushes herself off.

Vex: “Wow. They actually fell for it. You Sentinels are bigger losers than I thought.”

Gangplank: “It’s like I said, Vex: to catch a fish, you just need the right bait.”

“You two are working together?”

“What’s going on here?”

Vex: “Isn’t it obvious? Ugh, whatever. I’m not obligated to explain myself.”

The wraiths begin to close in on you, though your movements are still sluggish thanks to Vex’s shadow. You and the other Sentinels struggle to free yourselves, though you quickly realize that you are completely at Vex’s mercy. Even so, as you look around amongst your allies, you get the sense that someone is missing…

Gangplank: “Don’t get the wrong idea: this is nothing personal. I just need you Sentinels out of the way if I’m to reclaim what’s rightfully mine.”

The wraiths latch onto, their claws digging into your flesh. You can feel them sapping your life force, but just as your vision starts to blur, something lands between Gangplank and Vex: a metal cannister. Suddenly, another explosion knocks the two of them off their feet, causing the shadow beneath you to dissipate.

Graves: “Common sense ain’t exactly my forte either!”

Now unfettered by Vex’s magic, the Sentinels are free to draw their weapons and retaliate against the onslaught of undead. You feel a sudden revitalizing energy course through your body as Senna drives the wraiths off of you.

Senna: “You alright, Rookie?”

“I’m fine! Thanks!”

“Don’t worry about me! Get the fetter!”

You turn to see Gangplank and Vex quickly scrambling to their feet.

Vex: “Ugh! This is so not cool! You were all supposed to like, fall into despair while getting turned into wraiths!”

Gangplank: “This isn’t over yet! Vex, get me to Bilgewater, and you’ll see their despairing faces yet!”

Vex: “Ugh, you’re not the boss of me… Fine. Guess I don’t have much choice!”

Vex summons her shadow again and conjures a portal in the Mist, through which she and Gangplank beat a hasty retreat.

Jayce: “Damn! They’re getting away!”

Senna: “Not for long! After them, Sentinels!”

On Senna’s orders, you all give chase through the shadowy gateway, diving in one after the order. Finally, you dive in last, finding yourself utterly drenches in darkness as the portal closes behind you…  

Bilgewater Part V

You stumble out of the darkness to find yourself assaulted by the most putrid smell you’ve ever experienced. All around you are the remnants of decaying sea creatures, most of which are several times larger than a person.

Gwen: “My word! What is this awful place!?”

Graves: “I’d recognize this homely smell anywhere! This is the Slaughter Docks!”

Vayne: “You’re still here?”

Graves: “Can’t get rid of Malcolm Graves that easy! ‘Sides, divin’ through an ominous portal beats fightin’ a whole pack of undyin’ ghosts on my own… Not that I was really takin’ all that into account at the time.”

“Where’s Gangplank?”

“Where’s Vex?”

Diana: “That cannot have gone far… Look! There they are!”

Diana points to far end of the dock. Sure enough, you see Gangplank and Vex talking at the far end, as well as a third figure…

Viego: “Well done, Captain… And you as well, Vex.”

Riven: “Uh oh.”

Lucian: “Viego!”

Jayce: “THAT’S the Ruined King? Huh. I thought he’d be bigger.”

Olaf: “Aye, but don’t be fooled! He’s a worthy foe, indeed…”

Viego: “Ah, the Sentinels. I see you have survived. No matter. You are far too late to stop me now.”

Senna: “We’ll see about that! Everyone, in formation! This is what we trained for!”

Vex: “Ugh, seriously? Do you guys ever stop? Your whole ‘never say die’ thing is really getting on my nerves.”

Viego: “Unfortunately, I haven’t the time to waste on entertaining you all now, as I did in Ionia. I have simply come to retrieve what is mine and take my leave.”

Viego takes the bell out of Gangplank’s hand and clutches it tight. As he did in Demacia, the Ruined King appears to absorb the power within the fetter, leaving it hollow.

Senna: “Open fire!”

Senna, Lucian, Jayce and Vayne all let loose a volley of Relic light that briefly illuminates the docks. Shortly thereafter, Gwen charges into the fray with Olaf and Riven, surrounding them in Hallowed Mist to keep the wraiths at bay. Shen takes hold if Diana and vanishes into the spirit realm. Moments later, the two of them reappear behind Viego and lash out with their blades while Riven, Gwen and Olaf attempt to catch him in a pincer attack.

Viego raises his blade to deflect the blow Shen and Diana, while Vex summons her shadow to keep the other three at bay.

Viego: “I see you have improved since our last encounter, but it is still not enough!”

With a snap of his fingers, Viego wills the Black Mist into the dead sea beasts littered across the Slaughter Docks. Giants squids, razor fins, and all manner of other creatures roar to unlife as they pry themselves free of their hooks. Soon, the Sentinels find themselves cut off from Viego by the reborn creatures of the deep.

Viego: “Do you see? My influence knows no bounds.”

Gangplank: “Aye, you’re the real deal, alright. And speakin’ of deals, I kept up my end of the bargain: I help you reclaim your queen, you help me take back my throne!”

Viego: “Hmph. Very well. I am a generous king, and I always keep my word.”

To your horror, Viego plunges his sword through Gangplank’s chest. Black Mist courses around the old pirate, transforming him in the blink of an eye.

Lucian: “Damn it! What’s that old fool doing?”

Gangplank: “I’m reclaiming… WHAT’S MINE!”

Gangplank raises his sword, which ignites with spectral green flame.

Gangplank: “My ship, my crew, my city! Everything Sarah Fortune took from me!”

Suddenly, a massive ship erupts from the ocean behind Gangplank. Its sails are tattered, its hull covered in holes and barnacles, and its crew consisting entirely of spectres.

Graves: “Ah, hell! That’s the Dead Pool! I barely got off that ship alive!”

Gangplank: “Oh yes Graves, I remember. This time, I’ll finish what I started. Volley fire!”

The Dead Pool’s cannons angle upwards and rain down a volley of spectral iron across the Slaughter Docks. At Senna’s command, you and the other Sentinels run for cover within a nearby alcove, while Viego and Vex calmly slip away among the chaos.

Riven: “We’ve got to get out of here!”

Senna: “Damn it, I know! Rookie, get us out of here!”

At Senna’s command, you wind of the Wayfinder and allow its light to carry you all out of danger. The cries of undead sea monsters and the sound of cannonfire fall silent as you stumble back into headquarters.

“That was too close.”

“Is everyone alright?”

Gwen response 1: “Quite right. Although… It seems we have another unexpected guest!”

Gwen response 2: “Everyone seems present and accounted for… Including Mr. Scruffy!”

Graves: *Whistles* “So that’s the Wayfinder doohickey you mentioned? Bet somethin’ like that would go for a lot of money on black market.”

A bolt of light suddenly whizzes past Graves’ head, trimming off a few hairs.

Graves: “YOW!”

Vayne: “Why. Are you. Still here?”

Senna: “Rookie, you’ve gotta start checking your surroundings before you use that Wayfinder.”

“My bad.”

“In my defense, it was a pretty chaotic situation.”

Lucian: “Now hang on. Maybe this ain’t as bad as it looks.”

Senna: “Lucian, please tell me you’re not about suggest what I think you are.”

Lucian: “He DID save our hides back in Buhru.”

Senna: “He’s also an outlaw and a thief. He stole the fetter AND just admitted to wanting to steal the Wayfinder.”

Lucian: “Look, we’ve dealt with worse, and we can’t be too picky when we’re trying to save the world.”

Graves: “Now just hold on a minute. Save the world? Listen, buddy, I ain’t no hero-type. I only came along to keep from getting blow apart by Gangplank or eaten alive by ghost fish. I ain’t plannin’ to stick around.”

“What if we could help you find your missing partner?”

“What if we could help you hide from Gangplank?”

Graves: “…Although, upon reconsiderin’, I hear the hero business is very profitable these days.”

Vayne: “Rookie, for once, could it have hurt to keep your mouth shut?”

Olaf: “Hmph. I like this man. He reminds me of Lokfar!”

Senna: *Sigh* “Alright, fine. Gwen, you know what to do. Just… Keep an eye on him.”

Gwen: “Yes, ma’am!”

Gwen leads Graves further into the Sentinel vault, though Vayne accompanies them to assist in keeping Graves out of trouble. After several minutes, the three finally re-emerged with Vayne pointing her crossbow at Graves’ back.

Vayne: “I caught him eyeing the fetter. Are you sure we can’t just shoot him?”

Graves: “Hey now, I was only lookin’! Out of curiosity, though, how much would ya say that fancy parasol is worth?”

Senna: “I know I’m gonna regret this, but… Come on, Sentinel Graves. Let’s get you sworn in.”

[infinite-xerath]

Runeterra Retcons: Ruination Episode (Bilgewater)

Bilgewater Part I

The next day, you step into the map room to find that all the Sentinels have already gathered… All but one.

“Where’s Jayce?”

“Aren’t we missing somebody?”

Jayce: “Sorry for the wait, everyone. It took longer than I thought, but the Mercury Hammer MK II is ready to go.”

Gwen: “My goodness! That’s quite the contraption you’ve made, Mr. Hammer.”

Lucian: “Hot damn, you really pulled it off? Hextech plus Relicstone… Think you could upgrade one of my guns, son?”

Jayce: “If I had a proper lap here, maybe. That said, the MK II is still in its experimental phases. I’ll need to test it out in the field to get more conclusive data.”

“Uh, that thing won’t explode, right?”

“So you don’t even know if it works?”

Jayce: “I wouldn’t expect you to understand. I just need some targets to test this baby out on.”

Senna: “Then I guess you’re in luck. If there are no objections, our next stop is Buhru in the Blue Flame Isles. We were in contact with the Sentinel outpost there when it fell, but with any luck, Fetu and his allies may have survived.”

“No objections here, ma’am!”

“Destination set! Next stop: the Blue Flame Isles!”

In a flash, the Wayfinder brings you to Buhru, where you quickly find that the Sentinel Outpost stands in ruins. You look around briefly, hoping for some sign of Fetu, but to no avail.

Riven: “Doesn’t look like anyone’s here.”

Lucian: “Plenty of Mist, though. The fetter’s bound to be around here, somewhere.”

You peer out across the ocean toward the neighboring isles, hoping for some clue as to what direction the Black Mist is heading. As you search, you hear stones skidding behind you, as well as the cocking of a gun.

???: “Nobody move!”

You wheel around to see a scruffy-looking man with a sizable, double-barreled cannon staring you down.

???: “Well well, looks like I finally caught the perpetrators in the act.”

“Perpetrators? Whatever you think we’ve done, we’re innocent!”

“Uh, I think there’s been some kind of misunderstanding…”

Graves: “Uh huh. You really think it’s that ease to pull one over on Malcom Graves? Only one man I know who can make a whole group of people appear in an instant. So…”

Graves casually places a cigar in his mouth, his shotgun leveled at you the entire time.

Graves: “I’m gonna give you all one chance to fess up ‘fore I blow ya into the water. Where the hell is Twisted Fate!?”

Bilgewater Part II

“Twisted Fate? That’s a dumb name.”

“Twisted Fate? That’s an awesome name!”

Graves response 1: “That’s what I keep tellin’ him, but… Oh no, you’re not gonna distract me that easy.”

Graves response 2: “…Son, you got a lot to learn, not that you’ll have the chance if ya don’t fess up!”

Diana: “We know no one by that name. It was the Wayfinder’s light that brought us here.”

Graves: “The what now? Now you’re just makin’ up-”

Graves is cut short as the sound of wagon wheels suddenly fills the air, accompanied by the sound of inhuman growling.

Olaf: “Wait! Something approaches!”

Graves: “Ah hell, he’s back!”

Suddenly, a shadow passes over you and the other Sentinels. You gaze up to witness something that defies belief: an undead warrior riding through the air on a chariot pulled by a trio of spectral sharks.

Lucian: “…You have got to be kidding me.”

Jayce: “Heads up! That thing’s coming right for us!”

Sure enough, the charioteer turns around and makes a divebomb right for your group. At Senna’s command, the Sentinels open fire, causing the spectral sharks to turn and slam into the ruins. The charioteer soon loses control and finds himself being dragged back out to sea, vanishing into the Black Mist.

Graves: “Well I’ll be… That bastard’s been followin’ me for days, but he didn’t so much as flinch when I shot at him! You all, though… You actually managed to scare him off!”

“We’re Sentinels. It’s what we do.”

“Our guns are better than yours.”

Shen: “We haven’t the time to boast. We must find the fetter as soon as possible.”

Graves: “Now hold on a damn minute! You lot still haven’t told me where my partner is!”

Vayne: “Don’t know, don’t care. You’re outnumbered and outgunned, so I’d suggest you get out of the way before we BLOW you into ocean.”

Gwen: “I’m terribly sorry, Mr. Scruffy. I do wish we could help you find your friend, but we… Oh!”

As Gwen approaches Graves, a familiar light emanates from her chest. That same begins to shine from an item on Graves’ belt. Perplexed, Graves unhooks the item in question to reveal a silver handbell that resonates with Gwen and Senna.

Graves: “What in tarnation?”

“It’s the fetter!”

“He’s got it!”

Jayce: “Huh. That was surprisingly easy.”

The Sentinels quickly advance on Graves, who tries to keep you at bay by raising his shotgun.

Graves: “Now hold on a minute. I’ve still got a lot of questions for you all, and- What the!?”

A familiar shadow appears behind Graves and snatches the bell from his hand.

Vex: “I’ll just be taking that.”

Vex turns and begins running further inland, fetter in hand.

Graves: “Hey! Come back here you little rodent!”

Senna: “She’s got the fetter! Sentinels, after her!”

Bilgewater Part III

The Sentinels give chase through the thick vegetation of Buhru, pushing through the undead that try to hinder their path. Vex and her shadow remain a step ahead, getting further and further away despite your best efforts.

Graves: *Pant. Pant.* “Get back here with my meal ticket, ya little rascal!”

Vayne: “Why is he still here?”

Senna: “Nevermind him! Just don’t lose sight the fetter!”

Graves: “This is why I hate yordles!”

“Shen, can’t you do something?”

“Jayce, can’t you do something?”

Shen (if option 1 is picked): “Something in this land is barring my entry to the Spirit Realm! We will have to pursue on foot!”

Jayce (if option 2 is picked): “Sorry, I used up my last Acceleration Gate back in Viktor’s lab! Haven’t had a chance to make more!”

With no other options, you continue to follow Vex on foot. Finally, you see her racing up a flight of stone stairs toward before vanishing from sight. By the time you reach the top of the stairs, all that awaits you is an empty village.

Riven: “Where did she go!?”

Lucian: “Damn it… We lost her.”

Senna: “She can’t have gotten far! Spread out and search for her!”

On Senna’s command, you and the other Sentinels fan out across the village, searching through the remnants of homes for any trace of Vex and the fetter.

Graves: “Tch. No sign of the furball anywhere. It’s just like Tobias always says: don’t mess with yordles.”

“Tobias? You mean Twisted Fate?”

“Why are you following me?”

Graves response 1: “Yup. Tobias Felix. Better known, for better or worse, as Twisted Fate. But, uh, you didn’t hear his real name from me, got it?”

Graves response 2: “Well, given my prior experience with yordles, I’m thinkin’ you could use the backup.” (Better you get turned into a frog this time instead of me, kid.)

You and Graves continue to explore the village together, peeking into abandoned houses and under crumbling serpent statues. Your search yields no results, until…

*BOOM!*

A building further uphill suddenly explodes, starling you and Graves to your feet.

“What was that!?”

“Please tell me there aren’t exploding ghosts here.”

Graves: “No idea, but in my professional experience, runnin’ TOWARD explosions ain’t exactly conventionally wise. That said, conventional wisdom also don’t make much of a profit in Bilgewater. Come on!”

You follow Graves toward the source of the explosion to the burning building. You find Vex laying on the ground, pulling herself out of the fire.

Vex: *Cough* *Wheeze* “WHAT THE HECK!? Did you seriously just try to BLOW ME UP!?”

A figure leans down to snatch the fetter out of Vex’s hand, keeping a gun trained on her the entire time.

???: “I know it’ll take more than THAT to kill a yordle, but your little shadow friend won’t be disturbin’ us for a while, at least. Now then, what have we here…?”

Graves: “Oh hell. Are my eyes playin’ tricks on me? That can’t be…”

???: “Malcolm Graves. Well well, today is just full o’ surprises!”

Graves: “Damn. It IS you. You’re supposed to be dead! Ah, but hell… This is the Mist’s doin’ too, ain’t it? Missy fortune blew you and your ship to the bottom of the ocean!”

???: “Oh I remember, but much like the yordle here, it’ll take more than a few dozen barrels of gunpowder to kill ME.”

“Uh, sorry to interrupt, but I’m gonna need that bell, if you don’t mind.”

“Wow, that was pretty impressive, taking down Vex like that. Now, about the fetter…”

???: “Hmph. What’s this, Graves? Got yourself a new partner? Good. I can send him to the bottom of the sees with ya!”

Graves: “Kid, remember what I said earlier about conventional wisdom? Well, this here’s just plain common sense: you don’t wanna pick a fight with Gangplank.”

Bilgewater Part IV

Gangplank stares you down as the flames burn behind him. Wraiths begin to emerge from the Mist all around you, drawn by the commotion, but seem hesitant to approach. Behind you, the Sentinels race onto the scene, weapons ready.

Lucian: “Rookie, what’s goin’ on?”

“This old pirate took the fetter!”

“This old pirate managed to take down Vex!”

Diana: “Seriously? Maybe we should invite HIM to join us.”

Gangplank: “I’m not interested in joinin’ YOUR crew, girl. I’m getting back my own, and this bell here… This bell’s the key to doing just that.”

Shen: “You know not what you hold. Surrender the fetter, or there will be consequences.”

Olaf: “Don’t just stand around and threaten him! Let’s grab it!”

Vayne: “For once, I agree with this idiot.”

The Sentinels quickly begin to advance on Gangplank, only to find themselves unable to take a single step toward him. Looking down, you see a massive shadow spanning the ground beneath your feet. Vex quickly stands and brushes herself off.

Vex: “Wow. They actually fell for it. You Sentinels are bigger losers than I thought.”

Gangplank: “It’s like I said, Vex: to catch a fish, you just need the right bait.”

“You two are working together?”

“What’s going on here?”

Vex: “Isn’t it obvious? Ugh, whatever. I’m not obligated to explain myself.”

The wraiths begin to close in on you, though your movements are still sluggish thanks to Vex’s shadow. You and the other Sentinels struggle to free yourselves, though you quickly realize that you are completely at Vex’s mercy. Even so, as you look around amongst your allies, you get the sense that someone is missing…

Gangplank: “Don’t get the wrong idea: this is nothing personal. I just need you Sentinels out of the way if I’m to reclaim what’s rightfully mine.”

The wraiths latch onto, their claws digging into your flesh. You can feel them sapping your life force, but just as your vision starts to blur, something lands between Gangplank and Vex: a metal cannister. Suddenly, another explosion knocks the two of them off their feet, causing the shadow beneath you to dissipate.

Graves: “Common sense ain’t exactly my forte either!”

Now unfettered by Vex’s magic, the Sentinels are free to draw their weapons and retaliate against the onslaught of undead. You feel a sudden revitalizing energy course through your body as Senna drives the wraiths off of you.

Senna: “You alright, Rookie?”

“I’m fine! Thanks!”

“Don’t worry about me! Get the fetter!”

You turn to see Gangplank and Vex quickly scrambling to their feet.

Vex: “Ugh! This is so not cool! You were all supposed to like, fall into despair while getting turned into wraiths!”

Gangplank: “This isn’t over yet! Vex, get me to Bilgewater, and you’ll see their despairing faces yet!”

Vex: “Ugh, you’re not the boss of me… Fine. Guess I don’t have much choice!”

Vex summons her shadow again and conjures a portal in the Mist, through which she and Gangplank beat a hasty retreat.

Jayce: “Damn! They’re getting away!”

Senna: “Not for long! After them, Sentinels!”

On Senna’s orders, you all give chase through the shadowy gateway, diving in one after the order. Finally, you dive in last, finding yourself utterly drenches in darkness as the portal closes behind you…  

Bilgewater Part V

You stumble out of the darkness to find yourself assaulted by the most putrid smell you’ve ever experienced. All around you are the remnants of decaying sea creatures, most of which are several times larger than a person.

Gwen: “My word! What is this awful place!?”

Graves: “I’d recognize this homely smell anywhere! This is the Slaughter Docks!”

Vayne: “You’re still here?”

Graves: “Can’t get rid of Malcolm Graves that easy! ‘Sides, divin’ through an ominous portal beats fightin�� a whole pack of undyin’ ghosts on my own… Not that I was really takin’ all that into account at the time.”

“Where’s Gangplank?”

“Where’s Vex?”

Diana: “That cannot have gone far… Look! There they are!”

Diana points to far end of the dock. Sure enough, you see Gangplank and Vex talking at the far end, as well as a third figure…

Viego: “Well done, Captain… And you as well, Vex.”

Riven: “Uh oh.”

Lucian: “Viego!”

Jayce: “THAT’S the Ruined King? Huh. I thought he’d be bigger.”

Olaf: “Aye, but don’t be fooled! He’s a worthy foe, indeed…”

Viego: “Ah, the Sentinels. I see you have survived. No matter. You are far too late to stop me now.”

Senna: “We’ll see about that! Everyone, in formation! This is what we trained for!”

Vex: “Ugh, seriously? Do you guys ever stop? Your whole ‘never say die’ thing is really getting on my nerves.”

Viego: “Unfortunately, I haven’t the time to waste on entertaining you all now, as I did in Ionia. I have simply come to retrieve what is mine and take my leave.”

Viego takes the bell out of Gangplank’s hand and clutches it tight. As he did in Demacia, the Ruined King appears to absorb the power within the fetter, leaving it hollow.

Senna: “Open fire!”

Senna, Lucian, Jayce and Vayne all let loose a volley of Relic light that briefly illuminates the docks. Shortly thereafter, Gwen charges into the fray with Olaf and Riven, surrounding them in Hallowed Mist to keep the wraiths at bay. Shen takes hold if Diana and vanishes into the spirit realm. Moments later, the two of them reappear behind Viego and lash out with their blades while Riven, Gwen and Olaf attempt to catch him in a pincer attack.

Viego raises his blade to deflect the blow Shen and Diana, while Vex summons her shadow to keep the other three at bay.

Viego: “I see you have improved since our last encounter, but it is still not enough!”

With a snap of his fingers, Viego wills the Black Mist into the dead sea beasts littered across the Slaughter Docks. Giants squids, razor fins, and all manner of other creatures roar to unlife as they pry themselves free of their hooks. Soon, the Sentinels find themselves cut off from Viego by the reborn creatures of the deep.

Viego: “Do you see? My influence knows no bounds.”

Gangplank: “Aye, you’re the real deal, alright. And speakin’ of deals, I kept up my end of the bargain: I help you reclaim your queen, you help me take back my throne!”

Viego: “Hmph. Very well. I am a generous king, and I always keep my word.”

To your horror, Viego plunges his sword through Gangplank’s chest. Black Mist courses around the old pirate, transforming him in the blink of an eye.

Lucian: “Damn it! What’s that old fool doing?”

Gangplank: “I’m reclaiming… WHAT’S MINE!”

Gangplank raises his sword, which ignites with spectral green flame.

Gangplank: “My ship, my crew, my city! Everything Sarah Fortune took from me!”

Suddenly, a massive ship erupts from the ocean behind Gangplank. Its sails are tattered, its hull covered in holes and barnacles, and its crew consisting entirely of spectres.

Graves: “Ah, hell! That’s the Dead Pool! I barely got off that ship alive!”

Gangplank: “Oh yes Graves, I remember. This time, I’ll finish what I started. Volley fire!”

The Dead Pool’s cannons angle upwards and rain down a volley of spectral iron across the Slaughter Docks. At Senna’s command, you and the other Sentinels run for cover within a nearby alcove, while Viego and Vex calmly slip away among the chaos.

Riven: “We’ve got to get out of here!”

Senna: “Damn it, I know! Rookie, get us out of here!”

At Senna’s command, you wind of the Wayfinder and allow its light to carry you all out of danger. The cries of undead sea monsters and the sound of cannonfire fall silent as you stumble back into headquarters.

“That was too close.”

“Is everyone alright?”

Gwen response 1: “Quite right. Although… It seems we have another unexpected guest!”

Gwen response 2: “Everyone seems present and accounted for… Including Mr. Scruffy!”

Graves: *Whistles* “So that’s the Wayfinder doohickey you mentioned? Bet somethin’ like that would go for a lot of money on black market.”

A bolt of light suddenly whizzes past Graves’ head, trimming off a few hairs.

Graves: “YOW!”

Vayne: “Why. Are you. Still here?”

Senna: “Rookie, you’ve gotta start checking your surroundings before you use that Wayfinder.”

“My bad.”

“In my defense, it was a pretty chaotic situation.”

Lucian: “Now hang on. Maybe this ain’t as bad as it looks.”

Senna: “Lucian, please tell me you’re not about suggest what I think you are.”

Lucian: “He DID save our hides back in Buhru.”

Senna: “He’s also an outlaw and a thief. He stole the fetter AND just admitted to wanting to steal the Wayfinder.”

Lucian: “Look, we’ve dealt with worse, and we can’t be too picky when we’re trying to save the world.”

Graves: “Now just hold on a minute. Save the world? Listen, buddy, I ain’t no hero-type. I only came along to keep from getting blow apart by Gangplank or eaten alive by ghost fish. I ain’t plannin’ to stick around.”

“What if we could help you find your missing partner?”

“What if we could help you hide from Gangplank?”

Graves: “…Although, upon reconsiderin’, I hear the hero business is very profitable these days.”

Vayne: “Rookie, for once, could it have hurt to keep your mouth shut?”

Olaf: “Hmph. I like this man. He reminds me of Lokfar!”

Senna: *Sigh* “Alright, fine. Gwen, you know what to do. Just… Keep an eye on him.”

Gwen: “Yes, ma’am!”

Gwen leads Graves further into the Sentinel vault, though Vayne accompanies them to assist in keeping Graves out of trouble. After several minutes, the three finally re-emerged with Vayne pointing her crossbow at Graves’ back.

Vayne: “I caught him eyeing the fetter. Are you sure we can’t just shoot him?”

Graves: “Hey now, I was only lookin’! Out of curiosity, though, how much would ya say that fancy parasol is worth?”

Senna: “I know I’m gonna regret this, but… Come on, Sentinel Graves. Let’s get you sworn in.”

[stanathanxoox]

Discovery

Anon requested And just like everything else we do around here, it’s about to get weirder.” Seb x Reader.

You stood in the lab with your boyfriend as the two of you tried to figure out what it was that had caused five sailors to die, it wasn't a poison, a toxin, drug, overdose, didn't seem to be natural or intended, you just had five dead sailors in a case which wasn't going anywhere very fast because you couldn't find anything to explain the deaths. You sigh as the computer beeps with yet another negative test result "Well, it looks like the test we did on the fish wasn't it," Sebastian says and you nod. Running your hand over your face before something about the victims comes to mind, rushing out of the lab and into autopsy you call out for Loretta who is examining one of the victims to see if there is anything that she may have missed "Loretta, when you did the autopsy did you look at the nerves and muscles of each victim?" you ask and she looks up at you confused "No Y/N, I didn't think to, why?" she asks and you turn back to your boyfriend and then back to the ME, before running back to the lab and running one final blood test, searching for something in particular that you hadn't thought of before. You look up however when you hear Sebastian and Loretta asking "What is Y/N? What have you thought of?" he asks and you turn back to them "You might want to call the team, if I'm right then by the time they get here the test results should be in" you say and they look at you a little skeptically before they rush around, Loretta rings Pride and Sebastian rings Chris telling them that they need to get over to the lab.About half an hour later, the team is standing in the lab, as well as Loretta and Sebastian, all waiting for you to say what you had called them all in her for. Just as you're about to start the mas spec goes off and confirms your theory and you clap in excitement before turning around and looking out towards the people you care about. "So I have just managed to solve the mystery," you say and they all look at you with raised eyebrows before you hear Sonja whisper "Dear lordie, she's just like Sebastian" you smile a little at the comment before you clear your throat and say "So, for the past week, Loretta, Sebastian and I have all tried to figure out how our five sailors were murdered. We've tried all kinds of different poisons, drugs and medical explanations for what we could find. However, after the failed result of our testing for fish poisons, I had an epiphany" you say explaining how you had come to the conclusion. "I remember that Sebastian and I had tested for poisons from frogs native to America but we hadn't done a test on frogs that are native to South America and ones that don't traditionally survive up here. Its called Batrachotoxin and happens when people sweat the poison out of the frogs over fires, the frogs: the golden Phyllobates terribilis and multicoloured Phyllobates bicolour are the ones that carry this particular poison. Traditionally people used to lace spearheads or blowpipes with the toxin but I don't think this has been the case here since as an amount as small as two grains of salt is enough to kill you" you say and everyone looks at you and then at Sebastian who goes on to say "It kills you by interfering with the sodium ion channels in the cells of muscles and nerves, basically forcing the open, which eventually results in heart failure" you nod. "Ok, so that explains the cause of death but how do we find the frogs or where to even get our hands on them?" Gregorio asks and you shrug "Come on, let's go and start getting leads on the frogs. Good find Y/N" Pride says as he ushers the team out of the room, Sebastian hags back for a little bit and smiles at you "And just like everything else we do around here, it’s about to get weirder," he says and you can't help but chuckle "Go save the world Sebastian," you say placing a kiss on his lips before he nods and rushes out to follow the rest of the team.

Tag List: @tiva-jenry-caskett-rizzles-densi, @captain-dwayne-pride, @dressed-up-just-like-z1ggy, @nikkiwierden, @samchelforever007, @kirkspockbones, @xoncisxncislaxncisnolaox, @lasalle-pride-sebastian-love

[madrivervalleyicelandics]

Note:  click through the photos and gifs above to read the captions.

I’ve been promising for ages now that I’d make a post about the hoofcare changes we’ve made to our program in 2017, and now that the days are getting shorter I’ve had a bit more downtime to actually do it!  So here goes - it is long and I struggled with how to organize it, hopefully those of you who were interested don’t mind wading through all of this information :P

Over the past year I have transitioned every horse in my care out of metal shoes.  This was a decision that we made based on research demonstrating that the conclusiveness of metal shoes is harmful to equine joints in the longterm.  

Since making the switch, I have noticed a drastic positive change in my horses.  Some of the back tightness and stiffness in some of the horses, which I had long accommodated to saddle fit issues and had been working with a saddle fitter to fix, suddenly cleared up - every single horse’s back improved this year, with softer and better developed muscles - the good ones got better, and the ones with some issues got significantly better.  I believe that chiropractic/bodywork care is not an “extra” cost but a necessary part of maintaining equine athletes, as this is the only domesticated animal that we SIT ON and expect to perform, so I continue to have my vet check my horses regularly and work with me to determine each horse’s training program.  However, since making the switch out of metal shoes, my vet hasn’t had as much to adjust when he checks the horses.  This is the most marked change, and it’s not one that I expected.  It’s been dramatic enough that I am completely sold on going metal-free.

Another change that I have noticed is improved balance and posture (this, of course, ties into the back softness) in a way that has improved clarity of gait.  There is often this idea that horses which are pacey will be better with longer hooves and heavier shoes - this belief is the reason why we have so many shoeing regulations in our sport, to prevent people from cheating or compromising equine welfare to achieve higher scores.  However, paceyness and trottiness are both body issues - exaggerating hoof angles or shoe weight does not fix the root of the problem.  Fixing the balance of the hoof, rolling back the toe, and making the horse more comfortable through their backs and muscles has trickled down into the gaits - now, on shorter toes and composite shoes or hoof boots (which are LIGHTER than the metal shoes that most of us use in this sport), horses that had a tendency towards paceyness and trottiness have become much more supple and balanced.  Now, of course, this is along with a careful foundational dressage program and fitness program, so I’m not saying that you can throw composite shoes on your horse and all of his training issues and chronic back issues will magically be fixed - but for a horses already in a solid, compassionate program, this change has given them a serious boost.

Finally, I’ve noticed that the horses seem a little more confident and cheerful working out of metal shoes, although they were already confident and cheerful - again, it’s like the change has given them a boost.  They’ve got more cushion when their hoof hits the ground, and it’s something they reacted to immediately in a positive way.  The first time I rode each horse in the composite shoes or hoof boots, I was amazed by how different the horses felt - in a good way!  It’s a bit like riding on air, and it’s a more secure feeling because the hooves don’t slide when they hit the ground.  

So, now that I’ve opened with the benefits I’ve seen in my horses since making this change, I’ll get into the details of what I’m using, why I’m using it, etc.  

First, some background information:

Last year, myself, Amy Goddard, and Kathy Sierra submitted a proposal to the USIHC Board (before I was elected to the BOD) requesting that composite shoes and hoof boots be allowed in sport competition.  We made this proposal in response to new (and even some older) research that demonstrates that non-metal hoof protection reduced concussion on our horses’ joints, and improves their chances at soundness and good longevity.  I had kept my horses in metal shoes for many years and had not suffered serious ill effects from it as some have (no early onset arthritis, tendon issues, hoof ailments, etc.), I think because of my focus on conditioning and strong foundational dressage work - however, I made a promise to myself and my horses that I will always be open-minded to new findings, and that I will change my ways when I see that something else may be better for my animals’ welfare.  The proposal was sent on to FEIF, the international governing body for Icelandic sport, where it was approved on an experimental period for the 2017 show season.  Almost immediately, I sought out to find a farrier that could help me transition my horses over to nonmetal hoof protection.

My search led me to Common Ground Hoofcare.  Annie and Jeremiah are EXTREMELY qualified professionals who are 100% focused on equine welfare.  They’ve dedicated themselves to a never-ending quest to further their knowledge and improve their craft, and as a result they are very open-minded and educated.  Their approach produces sound, comfortable athletes and their methods are backed up by the best and most current research we have available.  As new information becomes available, they adapt their practices to include it.  These are the kind of equestrian professionals that I like to work with.  

Best of all, THEY TRAVEL!  They can probably come to you!  They travel around the Midwest, Kentucky, etc. to offer their services and are willing to expand their territory, although they prefer to stick mainly to the East Coast.  They’re also able to recommend other trimmers and farriers that they respect, if they can’t cover your area.  I repeat, THEY CAN COME TO YOU, OR HELP YOU FIND SOMEONE WHO CAN.

The shoes approved by FEIF included the Duplo composite shoe, and the Easyboot glove and Easyboot Epic.  I chose to shoe my competition horses (and one of my boarders also chose to shoe her horse) in Duplos, straight-nailed on as opposed to glue although glueing them on is also an option (nails were my personal choice in this case).  For my other horses - our lesson horses and horses in training - we decided to leave the horses barefoot and work them in the Easyboot Epics.  Since then, I have experimented with glueing on the Duplos, and with Epona Shoes.  Below I’ll write about my experiences with composite shoes and hoof boots, broken down into the questions that people have most frequently been asking me:

Duplo Composite Shoes

The Duplo shoes are a composite shoe, made of a kind of bouncy, plastic-y material with a metal core.  As I said above, they can be glued or straight-nailed on, or a combination of glue and nails.  They come in a variety that has side-clips, and a variety that does not.  We have been using the variety that does not have side clips.

The Duplo shoes have been absolutely fantastic for the kind of riding I do with my Icelandic competition horses.  I cross-train with distance riding, and my competition horses do a 15 mile ride once per week mainly on tough, hilly, hard-packed dirt roads.  Additionally, we usually do 1-2 days per week of dressage work in the arena, one day of work per week without a rider (longeing/in-hand or ponying on the roads and trails), but the bulk of our training is conducted on the dirt roads.  I put serious miles on my horses, but take the time to condition them carefully and work them correctly using a strong foundation of classical dressage.  The Duplo shoes have been an improvement over metal shoes in every single way, for every facet of what I do with my horses.  Below are some of the things I have been asked about:

Resets - How do they hold up when you’re riding at speed on those abrasive roads the way we Icelandic riders so often like to do?  I’ll put it this way - I think I can count on one hand the amount of time my Vigri and I have gotten a reset out of a pair of metal shoes.  We ride a LOT and usually our metal shoes are useless after one 4-5 week cycle.  We have been getting at least one and sometimes TWO resets out of the Duplos.  TWO!  Because they don’t slide when they make contact with the ground the way metal shoes do, they hold up unbelievably well, even with very tough riding.

Are they slippery on grass?  NO!  Much less slippery than metal shoes!  Vigri and Spönn were both shod in Duplos when they won blue ribbons at a hunter pace this summer at GMHA, and that hunter pace was mostly on grass footing. If anything, they’re grippier than metal shoes!

Gaits - Do the Duplo shoes negatively impact the gaits (tölt and pace)?  Not for me - however because I am focused on postural rehabilitation and dressage, I do not use hoof length or shoeing tricks to enhance or patch up holes in my horse’s gaits.  So I was not concerned that the shoes would mess up their gaits.  With good dressage and a proper trim, this shouldn’t be an issue at all, regardless of whether horses are barefoot, in hoof boots, shod in composites, or shod in metal.  Gaits should come from the body, not the feet.  See above, photos of Spönn pacing in her Duplos and Vigri competing in his.  

Heelboots - can they be used with these shoes?  Yes they can!  There is a part of the shoe that covers the frog, however because the shoe is flexible it is easy to get the little triangle of the heelboot into that space if you want to use heelboots for protection.

Trim cycles - is there any difference with the Duplos?  Yes, in that the Duplo shoe is going to maintain its shape and not warp with the hoof the way a metal shoe will, this does mean that horses ought to be kept to a 4 week cycle.  Which is really the ideal schedule for a shod horse anyway - going longer results in excessive hoof length that can put strain on the tendons, ligaments, and joints.

Can they be studded for winter use?  YES, and Duplo even makes a studded variety!  I can’t wait to try them out this winter!!

What about Epona shoes?  I like Epona shoes fine, but not for a humid climate.  The Duplos have these bumpy, grippy patches that keep them from sliding around on the hoof.  I have tried Epona shoes on a horse here and because of the way the hoof was expanding and contracting in the humidity, and the slippery material of the shoe, the shoe ended up moving around too much and breaking up the nail holes.  I also did find the Epona shoes to be slippery on grass and on the dirt roads.  In my opinion based on my experience, the Duplo is the better choice for our climate here in the Northeast and for our terrain in the mountains of Vermont, and for the level/amount of riding I do.

Benefits - have you noticed any benefits in the 6+ months you have been using these shoes?  YES, I absolutely have.  I have been able to cut my chiropractic/bodywork bills for my horses in half.  Their muscles, backs, and joints are just happier!  I’m getting better relaxation and freedom in my horse’s movements.  At the recent competition in Kentucky (where I did have to reshoe my horses in metal just before the show because FEIF’s experimental allowance period ended in September), Dr. Gloria Verrecchio said that my Vigri was in the best shape she’d ever felt him in.  She has been giving him bodywork tuneups after the long trailer ride to Kentucky for three years now, and this year he was much softer and better developed - I attribute some of that to the Duplo shoes, as they’ve reduced concussion and stress on his joints and allowed him to relax and develop his muscles better.  I’m getting improved movement from all of my horses, who seem more comfortable and more willing to offer me a little something extra.  Spönn paces better in her Duplos than she does in metal shoes.  Overall I am highly impressed with the Duplo shoes, and the way they make my horses feel.  I hope that they get approved longterm by FEIF so that I never have to compete in metal again!

EasyBoot Epics

I resisted hoof boots for a long time because I thought they looked clunky, I worried they would fall off or mess up my horse’s gaits, etc.  The EasyBoot Epics have dispelled all of my concerns.  They are fabulous.  They are essentially the same thing as the EasyBoot Glove, except that they use a cable to close whereas on the Glove, you hammer them on or sometimes people even glue them on.  I like the EasyBoot Epics because they allow my horses to live barefoot when they aren’t working, which is the healthiest thing for a horse with healthy hooves.  Living bare allows the hoof to expand and contract as it should, and allows us to keep the horse in a very balanced trim without having to attach something to the bottom of the hoof.  The Epics fit snuggly - before I ride I clean out my horse’s hooves, and slip the Epics over their hooves.  Sometimes, they do need a knock with a mallet because you do want them to fit snuggly.  Then you just velcro the gator and snap down the cable, and you’re good to go.  Here are some of the questions I’ve received about the Easyboot Epics:

Do they change the horse’s gaits/way of going?  This was my biggest concern.  And the answer is yes - in every single one of my horses, they have improved their gaits.  I think this is because they make the horse more comfortable and confident than they are in metal shoes.  Horses with a tendency to get a bit pacey or trotty both began to offer clearer tölt.  Again with these boots, the horse’s just aren’t needing the chiropractic or bodywork they once needed.  

Can you use them only in front?  Yes you can, but that may change the balance of your horse, because then their front feet will weigh more.  For Icelandic competition, you must have them on both the fronts and backs if you are using them.

Do they stay on?  If they fit, yes - but there is a small catch.  Your horse’s boot size may change throughout a trim cycle!  That took me a little while to figure out.  Particularly on the front hooves, after a fresh trim my horses are often a size smaller than they are towards the end of the cycle.  So if your horse measures a 0 after a trim, you might want to buy a set of 1s as well to use towards the end of the cycle.  I have had boots come off when they were fitted to my horses at the end of a cycle, and I put them on after a fresh trim.  Also, if the boots get very wet, they’re more likely to come off when you’re going fast in canter or fast tempo tölt or pace, if they are even a little bit too big.  But as long as they are the correct size, you will not have problems.

How long do they last?  My farriers told me that if I’m riding regularly, to expect about 3 months from each boot.  So far that has been pretty spot on, except for horses in lighter training.  Eventually, just like shoes, they do wear out.

Does the gator rub the pasterns?  Not on any one of my horses and we have done a fair amount of distance riding using these, through water crossings and mud etc. with no issues.

Are they hard to put on?  They can be hard to put on in the beginning when they are brand new.  But they quickly get easier to put on.  There is also a learning curve, in the beginning its a bit awkward, but now I can put them on all of my horses very quickly, in about 2 minutes to get them on all 4 hooves.

Do the horses like them?  They seem to.  We only had one horse walk a bit funny when they were first put on, but she quickly adjusted.  None of the horses have acted displeased with the boots and all have improved in them so I would say that the horses do like them.

If anyone has any further questions about my experiences with composite shoes or hoof boots in this past year, feel free to ask!  It is my hope that these shoes will get approved by FEIF to be permanently included as acceptable shoeing for Icelandic sport, but even if they don’t get approved, I can say without a doubt that my horses will be wearing composites or hoof boots from now on.  If I must put metal on them for shows, I will do what I did for the KY show and shoe them in metal just before the show and pull shoes immediately after, but I hope that FEIF will see that there is no reason to ban composite shoes and hoof boots from competition, and that allowing them is a great step for equine welfare.

EDIT, November 18, 2017:

We have now studded both the Easyboot Epics and the Duplo shoes for winter use, and I have ridden in both in all gaits including canter on the icy roads and in the snowy ring.  I am very pleased with how both are working, although I am finding the Duplos slightly more stable.  I would say based on my observations so far that having the Easyboot Epics fit PERFECTLY becomes especially important when using them in winter like this, because as the boot bites into the ground, if its moving around at all on the hoof that will surely be an issue.  Ours are fitted well and have been working out nicely.  Below are two photos of a studded Duplo shoe (attached to the hoof with both glue and nails - fewer nails than would be used without glue), and one photo of a studded Easyboot Epic.

I am thrilled that I will be able to use these all winter long!!