#and that evil being is the one that drove the ancients out of their home planet

[wereh0gz]

Hoooo boy that was. A lot

[robbyrobinson]

Two Roommates At the Edge of the Universe (Potential Book of Bill Spoilers)

Belos: Of all the heathenistic, pagan gods to be saddled with for eternity, it has to be... you.

Bill Cipher: (quadruples) Well, well, well, well... aren't you a sight for sore "eye." My old business partner, Philip Wittebane... or is it Belos? It's been ages... how has your whole "witch hunting" gone?

Belos: I have nothing to say to you, demon.

Bill Cipher: Oh, well look at you. You look like some slop that escaped from the pigpen! Looks like that kid you made a deal with did a number on you. Serves you right for calling off our deal.

Belos: Our plans did not align. After all, I would never help you raze the Earth. You are the Devil himself.

Bill Cipher: (chuckles) Thanks, but I can't accept that compliment since I was actually kicked out of H - E double hockey sticks. Do not tell me that you are still playing that "evil for a good cause" bullshit.

Belos: I should not conform to the temptations of sin by talking to you, Cipher. My quest was nothing but righteous. Witches defile everything they come across. But my plan failed. All I could remember before my consciousness faded was seeing a huge, celestial frilled lizard... something more ancient than the Boiling Isles... and it told me I could live once more.

Bill Cipher: Blah, blah, blah. The difference between you and me is that I can admit that everything I had done throughout the trillion years of my life were nothing more than for funsies. I wiped out planets; I ate gods for breakfast. I drove millions to madness and watched their brains melt and seep through their ears and staining the ground. I have done more than you can ever hope to! I've slaughtered hundreds because my credit card was declined. I am the god of madness and chaos. All of this I have done before you crawled out of your mommy's hoo-ha! I have lived one-billion lifetimes more than you can attest to you one lifespan, 3 dimensional, Sloppy Joe meat puppet!

Belos: Oh? Well, to be fair, I never destroyed my home.

Bill Cipher: (stops ranting) I don't know what you're talking about.

Belos: You wanted to impress your race but they were wiped out in one tragic event wasn't it?

Bill Cipher: (grasps the side of his head) No, no. I remember that day well. A monster destroyed my world! I am a victim... how dare you bring up my past?

Belos: So now you're mad. No wonder you are still here. You can't take responsibility for anything.

Bill Cipher: (he turns red and gets increasingly angry, but he calms down) Well, tell me... how is that brother of yours? I seem to recall his name...

Belos: Don't you dare...

Bill Cipher: Caleb? Oh, yes, I remember it now. I remember that day as if it were yesterday. Your brother met a nice little witch lady, but you entered the Demon Realm thinking that he was bewitched... but you saw that he not only married her, but she was pregnant.

Belos: (grapples with his temples) Silence... no more.

Bill Cipher: (conjures up a knife) Oh, does my eye deceive me? Here's the knife that you killed your brother with.

Belos: Shut up!

Bill Cipher: HA HA HA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! You should have seen the look on his face! He was so devastated that his own brother stabbed him when he was protecting his wife!

Belos: She - He! I was trying to save his soul! He chose his own fate. He stabbed me in the back. After all those years being witch hunters, he allowed himself to be tempted by the wiles of that harlot!

Bill Cipher: (cheeky) Ah, does widdle Belos miss his brutha? Does he want some milky? Or someone to tell him bed stowies? HA HAHAHA HA HA HA!! Face it, old man, you are just like me. All you ever cared about was being the hero who would save mankind from the forces of evil.

Belos: Grrr.... I am not evil.

Bill Cipher: Well... The Axolotl sent you here to be "rehabilitated." If you're lucky, you can reincarnate into some worm that eats shit for a living.

[officialchristiancagebbgirlblog]

Tags: @brideofinfamy

Requested name: Vanny

1: “You know I love you, right?”

Warnings: swearing

Themes: angst and fluff

Word count: 1380

Christian Cage takes a beating during his ‘I Quit’ match and is very upset with himself so the reader, Vanny, comforts him and helps him fell better about himself

Link to masterlist

Happy reading 🖤

“I quit! I quit!”

Watching from the back, Vanny heard Christian say those few words that he was determined not to say. He had taken a beating during the entire match and had taken an especially rough beating to his genital area. Being handcuffed to the ring post, he was completely stuck with no ability to defend himself.

She watched through the screen on the wall as Adam shoved his middle finger in his former best friend's face, driving the point home. Her heart ached for her partner as he was finally released from the metal cuffs, slumping down to the mat in pain.

Adam came backstage first, belt slung over his shoulder and a smug look on his face. He and Vanny briefly shared a dirty look with Adam muttering “I told you that old bastard was going to get what he deserved" and “have fun mending his wounds. Bet you wished you weren’t with someone so ancient now, huh?”

Her blood boiled at his smack talk but before she could remind him that Christian worked his ass off to get here whereas he got everything handed to him, he waltzed off with an evil chuckle. He pissed her off to no end, that no good smug bastard. But he was not the important one now, as Christian stumbled back through the curtain, head hanging down.

Vanny’s heart softened as he walked past her, ashamed of looking up. He didn’t want to leave her standing alone but he also couldn’t look or talk to her right now. The shame of losing not only in front of his home country, but also his work family, and his girlfriend was all just too much to handle.

She ran to catch up with him, taking hold of his hand which did not reciprocate the affection as strong as her. He held her hand lightly.

“Babe, talk to me,” she begged, “don’t just stay quiet, I need to hear you talk to me about what happened.”

Again, he stayed silent. He briefly looked up to her encouraging eyes but shook his head.

“Not here, please.” He mumbled, voice breaking slightly. So Vanny let it go. For now at least. She gave his hand a brief kiss before letting him go get showered and changed while she waited in the food hall, trying her best to ignore the celebration between Adam and other wrestlers. Vanny could hear Adam make snarky comments about her and Christian, both about his in-ring ability, the age gap in their relationship, how Christian was such a coward, everything. She thought that it was disgusting that someone could talk about another person like that, even if they were an ex best friend. After deciding she had heard enough, she got up from the chair and walked back towards the door to leave the hall but to her surprise, Christian stood there with a scowl on his face, listening to Adam and the others.

He had been quick in getting himself ready to leave, not wanting to stay a minute longer than he needed to. He roughly grabbed Vanny’s wrist and stormed out to get in the car to drive back to the hotel, eyes filling up with tears.

“I’m so sorry you had to hear that-“ she started, climbing into the passenger seat while he sat in the driver's seat, throwing his bag in the back. He cut her off before she could continue talking.

“It’s fine.” Was all he said as he started up the car and drove out, putting his seatbelt on as they were making their exit. He muttered incoherent things to himself the entire way back which she chose to ignore, not wanting to push him too far while he was driving. She could only make out “you’re so fucking useless.” For a moment, she had thought it was about her but that wouldn’t make sense as she went to his shows to support him backstage, not interfere. That was Shayna and The Patriarchy’s job.

They finally pulled up and after grabbing his bag, he stormed in with Vanny trailing behind him. As they entered the lift, the way up to their room felt like it would never end. Almost as if someone was playing a prank on them by making the lift slowly go up the floors. Thankfully no one got on because that might have pushed Christian over the line. Finally, and thankfully, they reached their floor. He was quick to walk to the door, again with Vanny trying to catch up to him. Once they were in the room, he threw his bag to the floor and sat on the bed, head in his hands. He finally let his emotions free, letting the tears of shame and anger spill out.

Vanny sat next to him, wrapping her arms around his body to comfort him, gently rocking him side to side while he got his feelings off his chest. Christian asked her if he truly was a coward, if he was that terrible in the ring. Not knowing how to answer, Vanny didn’t say anything but instead kissed the top of his head. There wasn’t much she could really say that would make him feel better at this moment. Not yet at least.

“It’s just…I’ve worked so hard to get to where I’m at, y’know? I do everything I can to help the other guys who are still new to the game. I do everything I can to show the fans that I’m worth buying tickets for. And what do I get? This asshole comes in here, and only after a few months he takes my title, and humiliates me in front of thousands of people. All he does is take the spotlight away, steal my thunder. Make me look like the weakest man on the roster.”

Christian trailed off, trying to sniffle away his tears but to no avail. There was still one more thing he needed to get off his chest.

“I heard him talk about us and…our relationship. I hope that you don’t think any less of me after tonight. I know I…lost…the title but. But I can get it back! I just. I need you with me for that.” He finally looked up to her, tears still falling gracefully down his cheeks.

“Please. Promise me you won’t leave me? I know that I probably look so pathetic right now. A 50 year old man, crying over a belt. But I need you, now more than ever. I’m begging you, please don’t leave me.”

He never talked much about his insecurities since you had been together. He had been married once and although the divorce was amicable, it still broke him more than he liked to admit. One of his biggest fears was being left again and he did everything to avoid it. It was still so crazy to her that he thought she would even consider leaving him! Especially after they had admitted to each other that they were in love with one another! She smiled sadly, stroking his face and wiping his tears with her thumb.

“You know I love you, right?” She half giggled, placing a kiss on the tip of his nose. “I wouldn’t even dream of leaving you, especially over a belt, you silly goose!”

Hearing Vanny say those words helped him feel marginally better but before he could open his mouth to say something else, she cut him off.

“And to reassure you, my dear, you are a fantastic performer. What you do on stage is wizardry. I still don’t fully understand how you do it, but I know I love what it is! You are the furthest thing from a coward or a bad performer. You are strong, smart, cunning, and handsome. Don’t let a fucker like him try and convince you otherwise, okay? I love you, with all of my heart.”

He smiled, placing a sweet kiss on her lips while she continued to hold him. It was hard taking compliments, especially ones like she had showered him with. But he took it with a big smile, knowing he was going to be okay. She was going to take care of him.

“I love you too, Vanny. More than you could ever believe.”

[papermonkeyism]

Me age 13: "omg, this is the best book ever I love it so much!"

Me age 20: "ugh, this is the worst book I've ever read, I hate it."

Me age 36: "this is a DnD campaign."

So I made it through the second book of the Icewind Dale trilogy, Streams of Silver, in my nostalgia trip.

And yeah. It's a game of DnD.

Specifically, it's a bunch of Tolkien fan boys having fun playing a fantasy fighting game and being awesome, and, yeah, it does its job.

It's still lacking in things I like in stories, but I can see where this is coming from. I prefer characters with more emotional depth and them having more natural feeling interactions, and deeper world building. But this is a game for people who like feeling awesome in a traditionally heroic way, and experience similar stuff as with their favourite books.

The characters are more archetype-ish/stereotypey, because they're written as player characters instead of complex people. There are A LOT of bad guys and evil creatures that the heroes have to fight, because DnD is a game built around a fighting mechanism, and campaigns are built with Random Encounters so the players can engage with the mechanics of the game they're playing. So this area has orcs in it, that will fight you. This bit here has human barbarian tribes that will fight you (and have some Unfortunate Implications about "noble savages" and their belief system being built aroud this monster creature from another plane of existence and other fun eighties tropes, but it's not like they get mentioned again after the encounter.) You failed a persuation roll to let this one town's guards let you pass because your elf hails from an evil elf race even if he himself is a good individual, and him having black skin marks him as dangerous to people (no wonder many modern depictions of drow have them more purple or gray than flat out black), so you are forced to take a detour through this swamp area that's full of trolls that will all attack you. And there's a giant snake that will attack you. And so forth.

And the Tolkien really shows! You could probably make a drinking game out of spotting all the Tolkien references, just the amount of times the word "mithril" gets thrown around could be one on its own.

So one of the main characters is a dwarf king of a lost underground dwarf kingdom, the Mithril Halls, who's ancient home got taken over by a shadow dragon which drove them to exile, and the Main Quest is to go find it and take it back (Hobbit). (None of his other clan mates from the Icewind Dale seem to remember or care enough to join their king in his search, but that's not the point, because you only got four players and they all picked different races. It's a game, your supposed to build it for them to play, that's the whole point.) Once they get to the place, there's a kinda "Mines of Moria" feeling scene of them wondering how to open the door, though the solution to it is more DnD feeling than that of Lord of the Rings. Though, speaking of Moria, remember how awesome the Gandalf vs Balrog scene was? Good news! We liked it too, so much so that we did the whole "beloved hero falls to a 'certain death' in the depths of the mine while fighting a bad guy/evil being" thing TWICE! Oh, and did your players like Galadriel? You have a nice GM who gives you a magical queen NPC (who's name even rhymes with her), who comes to the heroes' aid by giving advice and helpful items, except even better, because what if she also had a crush on your favourite character?

Sprinkle in a group of evil rivals, with a nemesis for the favourite character ("narrative foil" kinda feels like an understatement, though, as Entreri gets introduced as a dark mirror for Drizzt with all the subtlety of a sledgehammer), couple evil wizards, a fun and quirky family of good wizards for a fun interlude for your players, and few other fun and magical encounters, some cool loot, and a classic damsel in distress (though I do give credit for Catti-Brie actually having a role in this book. I hated the way she got kidnapped and damselled when I read the book last time, but on a re-read now, I do see her being clever and using her situation to sabotage her kidnappers, even if teenage me was very disappionted in how she didn't pick up a sword and do the awesome battle stuff herself).

(Okay, so this is just me theorizing, and I don't really have any factual basis for this, but I kinda get the feeling like Wulfgar was originally planned as the "young hero protagonist" of these books, but Drizzt ended up a lot more interesting of a character, and the stories just gravitated to focus on him instead as the author's fave. Not that a similar thing would have ever happened to me or anything, haha...)

Like. This book still isn't my thing, really. I very much prefer deeper and more rounded character writing and more thought out worldbuilding, but I must admit, realizing that this book was basically a game of Dungeons and Dragons kinda made the whole experience so much more enjoyable. Even if I spent the entire time reading thinking about the players of the characters instead of the characters themselves as people, but still.

You made the story out of reshuffled Tolkien tropes but edgier, put in some whimsy nonsense that makes no logical sense, and had tons and tons of really flat enemies that kept spawning and aggroing your party like video game mooks. Aww, sounds like a fun campaign, your players must have had great time!

... I should probably re-read Lord of the Rings one of these days.

[bestworstcase]

Well, it could've been another Jadis, how would I know?

(Also, yeah, last survivor of a dead world, I forget sometimes...)

hfgfhd entirely fair!

the thing abt jadis is—ough

now of course narnia is many things but textually interested in ethical nuance is not one of them—as a textual matter, jadis is purely evil, and it is not at all ambiguous that she is meant to be interpreted as such—however. sometimes being countertextual on purpose because you’re an evangelical apostate and TMN gave jadis a really interesting backstory is fun.

i will try to be brief.

charn—charn is the name of her city but lacking a name for her world i’m going to use it in reference to the planet as well—charn orbits an old and dying star.

Low down and near the horizon hung a great, red sun, far bigger than our sun. Digory felt at once that it was also older than ours: a sun near the end of its life, weary of looking down upon that world. To the left of the sun, and higher up, there was a single star, big and bright. Those were the only two things to be seen in the dark sky; they made a dismal group.

charn (the city) was once a vast, thriving, powerful city-state ruled by jadis’ family, but when she reflects on its history—when she recounts her memories of what it was—she tells the story of a horrifically violent state: these are the dungeons, there is the way to the principal torture chambers, in this banquet hall my great-grandfather slaughtered seven hundred disloyal nobles at a feast; she tells the children to look well on the magnificent view of her once-great home, and then she tells them i remember the cracking of whips and the cries of our slaves, i remember sacrifices in the temples, i remember when brutal war made the rivers run red.

and then, after a moment’s thought, she adds, and one woman blotted it out forever. i, jadis, the last queen.

and then, into the children’s horrified silence, she says this:

“It was my sister’s fault,” said the Queen. “She drove me to it. May the curse of all the Powers rest upon her forever! At any moment I was ready to make peace—yes and to spare her life too, if only she would yield me the throne. But she would not. Her pride has destroyed the whole world. Even after the war had begun, there was a solemn promise that neither side would use Magic. But when she broke her promise, what could I do? Fool! As if she did not know that I had more Magic than she! She even knew that I had the secret of the Deplorable Word. Did she think—she was always a weakling—that I would not use it?”

[…]

“That was the secret of secrets,” said the Queen Jadis. “It had long been known to the great kings of our race that there was a word which, if spoken with the proper ceremonies, would destroy all living things except the one who spoke it. But the ancient kings were weak and soft-hearted and bound themselves and all who should come after them with great oaths never even to seek after the knowledge of that word. But I learned it in a secret place and paid a terrible price to learn it. I did not use it until she forced me to it. I fought to overcome her by every other means. I poured out the blood of my armies like water—”

[…]

“The last great battle,” said the Queen, “raged for three days here in Charn itself. For three days I looked down upon it from this very spot. I did not use my power till the last of my soldiers had fallen, and the accursed woman, my sister, at the head of her rebels was halfway up those great stairs that lead up from the city to the terrace. Then I waited till we were so close that we could see one another’s faces. She flashed her horrible, wicked eyes upon me and said, ‘Victory.’ ‘Yes,’ said I, ‘Victory, but not yours.’ Then I spoke the Deplorable Word. A moment later I was the only living thing beneath the sun.”

“But the people?” gasped Digory.

“What people, boy?” asked the Queen.

“All the ordinary people,” said Polly, “who’d never done you any harm. And the women, and the children, and the animals.”

“Don’t you understand?” said the Queen (still speaking to Digory). “I was the Queen. They were all my people. What else were they there for but to do my will?”

“It was rather hard luck on them, all the same,” said he.

“I had forgotten that you are only a common boy. How should you understand reasons of State? You must learn, child, that what would be wrong for you or for any of the common people is not wrong in a great Queen such as I. The weight of the world is on our shoulders. We must be freed from all rules. Ours is a high and lonely destiny.”

AND THEN. a little bit later, digory asks her if the deplorable word is what made charn’s sun so strange and cold, and she tells him it has been so for hundreds of thousands of years.

“[…] Have you a different sort of sun in your world?”

“Yes, it’s smaller and yellower. And it gives a good deal more heat.”

The Queen gave a long drawn “A-a-ah!” And Digory saw on her face that same hungry and greedy look which he had lately seen on Uncle Andrew’s. “So,” she said, “yours is a younger world.”

She paused for a moment to look once more at the deserted city—and if she was sorry for all the evil she had done there, she certainly didn’t show it—and then said:

“Now, let us be going. It is cold here at the end of all the ages.”

ALRIGHT. SO

it, of course, goes without saying that jadis is not a nice person, or anything like a good one; evidently she was the crown heir to a regime of staggering cruelty and she rose to the occasion with devastating passion.

but: yours is a younger world. and it is cold here at the end of all ages.

now imagine this—imagine that you are the eldest scion of royalty in a dying world. the sun burns low and cold and the only other light in the unrelenting darkness of the sky is a single star, brilliant and terribly far away. you know, and everyone knows, that your world is doomed. the sun is dying. the sun has been dying for hundreds of thousands of years, each generation more despairing than the last, and the closest thing anyone has to hope is the preservation of an ancient memory of a time when the sky was filled with stars and the sun shone bright and warm.

your lineage is old and powerful and rich in magic and in the span of all the thousands of years of your dynastic rule you have accomplished nothing that matters: you have found no way of rekindling the stars or breathing new life into the sun, and no manner of escape. your great-grandfather slit the throats of seven hundred guests on suspicion that they had entertained rebellious thoughts. your home is a dungeon ringing with the screams of tortured prisoners. your city is blood running down the steps of temples to indifferent gods and slaves crying out for mercy that will never come. your whole world is death and pain.

all you have ever known is violence and power. and there is the smallest part of you, the faintest glimmer of instinct, that recognizes that this Should Not Be. you gaze back across countless generations of your family’s history and you find gazing back at you the hideous and unavoidable truth that something has gone profoundly, irreparably wrong; but all you have ever known is violence and power, and so greater violence, and greater power, are the only means you can imagine to undo centuries of wrong. you look back on your ancestors and think: they were weak and afraid. they refused to do what was needed. i will not be like them.

so you violate the sacred oaths of your forefathers and take the deplorable word into your mouth. you do not speak it (you do not want to speak it) but the mere knowledge is enough to damn you, invite the wrath of the gods and your kingdom. your sister leads your people in revolt and you cling to your power with everything you have because that is the only thing you know how to do, but you beg her for peace while the word that will end every life on this planet but your own remains silent under your tongue. you do not know how to yield any more than she, and your world rips itself apart around you.

think about

what it means

to speak a word that will extinguish every life in the world except your own. to feel the whole world die in an instant by your hand, except for you, because whether by curse or conscience you have no choice but to live in the emptiness you spoke into being. you are the last queen of a dead and dying world and you, alone, will endure until even the sun turns black.

in every way that matters you are already dead, but the mercy of a swift death is not for you; yours is to bear witness to the end of all ages. a high and lonely destiny indeed.

and then two children from another world—a younger world, a living world—come to (as you understand it, from what you piece together of their confused answers to your questions) rescue you from this fate.

you do not lie to them. you tell them what you are, of the violence that made you and the terrible things that you did. you tell them directly of your intention to conquer their world, and (because this is the only kindness you have ever known how to give) you reassure them that you will not harm them, nor wage war against the kingdom you imagine the boy’s magician uncle must possess. you do not understand why this should horrify them: it is how the world is and has always been. how could you imagine anything different?

and in their world you are nothing. the sun is warm and you cannot properly remember how you came to be here and you are so strange and so wrong in this place that your magic fails; because their world is not an ever-turning wheel of violence and power, and it is not a place where magic and blood matter above all else. it is a world where those ideas are subject to mockery, because it is a world run by the weak and the worthless. (you don’t know it, but you are seeing the answer that you missed so long ago, before you learnt the deplorable word, when you looked back upon your family’s legacy and found it wanting.)

could you have recognized that, given time? could this world without magic where the little people matter have taught you a better way to live? you’ll never know, because scarcely have you grasped that this world is profoundly different from your own than you are dragged out of it and into narnia at the very, very beginning.

and there you find the lion, singing of kindness and beauty and joy at the dawning of the world. you, jadis, the last queen of charn; you who bore witness to the bloody death throes of a cruel, brutal, hopeless world before you burnt it to the ground and waited alone in the ashes to die—you watch the lion sing a perfect new world out of nothing.

is it any wonder the only thing you feel is rage?

[poptod]

The Old Gods

Description: Jack has to get close to a powerful suspect. Jack also ponders upon his humanity.

Notes: genuinely didnt meant for this to get so long, my apologies, i just like writing conversations bc i never get to have them.  also! I hate myself so much for writing supernatural fanfiction in the good year of our lord 2021. its not my fault, it was the only show i could watch with my cousin that we both liked. anyway! lmk if you like it i could do a part two WC: 11k

+

The nearest library could hardly be called a library. A more accurate description would be a collection of books––a small collection––that could be read freely but never taken from the library itself. There was little need within the Winchesters to visit the library, considering they had one in their home filled with mythical lore, but the records of Kansas and neighboring cities and states were detailed thoroughly in the nearest library.

Jack knew a great many things; inherent natures and laws of the universe, the experience of power and of fear, both before him and within him. Many things he'd seen deserved to be feared, exposing him to dangers often unheard of amongst regular children.

Three months into existence, however, Jack liked to think he knew more than he did when he was born. This was because he'd spoken to more people, experienced more things, and learned select things about his mother, his father, his family, and strangers. Still, there were things that puzzled him––the age of the world was clear in his mind (4.543 billion years, four months, 22 days, 6 hours, and 52 seconds) but how humanity progressed into what they now were astounded him.

"Humans started as... these creatures with unending curiosity," Castiel explained to him, his hands folded neat in his lap but hidden by his too-long trenchcoat sleeves. "Ceaseless innovation. They started without language but they always had kindness. I think.. that's why God favored them, at least at first."

"So... kindness is a form of.. intelligence?" Jack asked slowly, his brow furrowed tight as he stared past his father.

"I believe so," he said, shifting in his seat. "Kindness drove these animals to building homes, to conversing with one another, to creating a better world for descendants they would never know. It's quite beautiful, actually."

"Am I a part of that story?"

Only half-human, only half-alive, only half the story, belonging to nothing concrete. Jack wasn't really human, leaving him alone in his species.

"Yes," Castiel said without hesitation.

Civilization first started off in a number of areas. The first book Jack found dealt with the fertile crescent northeast of Africa, where Mesopotamia brought forth a number of societies, of cultures, meshed together over the course of thousands of years. Sumerians were one of the first to build their cities, creating writing, the wheel, and the plow in their haven apart from the unpredictable and often violent wild.

But no––the next book Jack found stated that Jericho was the oldest city, west to the fertile crescent near the shore of the Mediterranean and the Dead Sea. The citystate was independent from any other power, often becoming abandoned from raids only to return to high populations, as humans flocked back to the spring water that still poured from inside the earth to this day.

Over the rest of the day spent in the nearest library, Jack learned there was no single spot in which civilization was created and then spread from. The Nile in Africa brought forth Egypt, the Indus river in Pakistan birthed the Harappan civilization, and the two rivers Yellow and Yangtze in China created the first asian cities. From there villages, towns, and cities spread like mold across the earth's surface, eventually bringing humans to inhabit every continent and nearly every environment known on earth.

There were far too many things to know, and the strain of reading on his eyes eventually forced him to retire for the day. He hardly understood anything yet, but the librarian was understanding as to his prolonged stay, and wished him a good evening when he left. He beamed a bright smile despite the strange pain growing behind his eyes, and waved good-bye.

Dean gave him painkillers when he got back to the bunker after Jack thoroughly (and unnecessarily) described his headache.

"Humans are... strange," Jack said, his brow furrowed in deep thought. He rested his elbows on the table, leaning over an empty bowl of cereal.

"Not wrong, but, care to elaborate?" asked Sam, who was sitting across from him at the kitchen table, a newspaper and pen in his hand.

"Castiel said you created the first cities out of a desire to.. to protect each other, and to keep yourselves safe. And then the first thing you do when you meet other cities is to go to war with them."

Sam sucked in a sharp breath, leaning back as he set the newspaper aside. This would take a little more concentration than a passing ear.

"People are scared by things they don't know," Sam began only to be cut off.

"Why?"

"They don't know if it's dangerous. You didn't trust us, at first, either. We didn't know whether to trust you. Remember?"

"Oh," Jack said softly.

"Yeah. But you're right," he said with a long sigh. "It's strange. We're... strange."

"Are humans inherently good?"

"I don't think anyone is inherently good," Sam said, and Jack straightened his posture, suddenly confused by his claim. "Every person – every thing, every living thing has – has the capacity for good and evil. It's really just up to the individual to decide which side they want to give into."

"Am I a good person?"

"First off, you're not really a person," said another voice from the doorway.

Sam and Jack both turned at the same time, meeting the eye of Dean, who had yet to change out of his bathrobe despite it being 2PM.

"Second off, you haven't been alive long enough to be a good person," he continued as he entered, an empty coffee cup in hand.

"Dean –" Sam began, only to be cut off.

"What? It's the truth."

The coffee machine buzzed loudly once Dean pushed a few of the buttons, setting his cup beneath the nozzle. He muttered something to himself before turning back to the kitchen table.

"Anything strange in the paper?" He asked, leaning against the counter.

"Maybe," said Sam.

He grabbed the paper again, delving into the details of a nearby missing persons case that soon faded out of Jack's state of mind. His thoughts were still absorbed in his existence, in his beginnings, and how they compared to the beginnings of humans. At least with angels he knew everything; that was how angels were born. Knowing everything.

Jack remained seated at the table when Sam and Dean left, still stewing in his thoughts that he imagined would never go away. It was half an hour later when the two brothers returned, this time fully dressed, and packed up on their way to the car.

"We've gotta go find some local records," Dean said.

"So we're headed to the library," Sam finished, and the two gave each other odd glances at the coincidental synchronicity.

"I was there a couple days ago," Jack said, suddenly perking up. "Can I come with you?"

"Sure, just don't get in the way," Dean said with a dismissive hand, already leaving the doorway.

Sam pursed his lips, letting out a bitter, almost apologetic chuckle before he followed.

He liked the middle seat. It didn't have a seatbelt, but he wasn't sure what seatbelts were for anyways, and the middle seat allowed him easy access to see both of the Winchesters. Dean never spared a glance in his direction while he drove, but Sam offered awkward, curt smiles.

Technically Jack could just fly to the library in an instant, but the drive into town was pretty, lined with the colors of autumn. Recently winds had taken up a more brisk edge, marking the absence of birds that flew in packs overhead. He scooted to one of the window seats, craning his neck awkwardly to look up and out of the glass, grinning at the ravens flying through the orange and gold trees.

The librarian showed the three men where the records were kept, directing them towards missing persons cases when they requested it. While Sam and Dean thumbed through the records, Jack returned to ancient history books, studying art and images from Vedic India.

There, amongst the carvings printed on soft paper, he found something rather odd. He stood from his position on the floor, still staring intensely at the print as he walked over to the table Sam and Dean sat at.

"Hey Jack," Sam said as he sat down, gently placing the book on the table. He scanned Jack's hunched posture before he asked, "something up?"

"I found something... strange," he said, his brow still knotted neatly above curious eyes.

"Yeah well, join the club, kid," Dean said with a groan, wiping his face with his hand.

Jack opened his mouth to ask what they'd seen, but Sam answered before he could speak.

"There's been repeated attacks, kind of," he said, waving his hand vaguely. "Once every ten years a couple of kids go missing. Always two kids, always on the same day of the year."

"And another anomaly," Dean said, reaching over to a stack of papers and slapping them on the table in front of Jack.

Big, black words displayed the newspaper title, and below it, the date of publishing. January 4th, 1967. The main article dealt with a concert happening in a nearby city, and the image printed with it displayed a number of concert-goers, most of them in their teens or early adulthood. Hidden behind several other people, a familiar face appeared––the librarian. Unhindered by time.

"Is that..."

"Big boots over there?" Dean asked, pointing with his thumb in your general direction.

You were sorting through a stack of books, but as Jack looked down, he found you were wearing rather large boots. The ends of your pants drowned in them.

"Do you think they're related?" Jack asked as he turned back to the Winchesters.

"Possibly," Sam said with a nod. "Bit early to tell. But, uh..."

Sam trailed off as his eyes focused on something past Jack's shoulder. He, as well as Dean, turned to meet your eyes that quickly darted away once all three of them were looking at you.

"I think I have an idea," Sam said.

Dean and Jack curiously tilted their heads to the side at the same time, though when Dean noticed that, he fixed himself immediately.

"I think they have a thing for you," he said in a much quieter voice.

"Me?" Jack asked, pushing his finger into his chest.

"Yeah. You could get a little closer and see if something's up."

"Are you seriously setting up Jack with a fuckin' demon, for all we know?" Dean asked flatly, earning an odd look from Sam, who had never heard Dean protest putting Jack in danger.

"Dean, Jack's dad is a demon-angel thing. I don't think it's a big deal," he said.

That seemed to shut the older Winchester up.

"Hm," Jack hummed as he debated the idea. "I also found something strange."

"Oh, right," Sam said, clearing his head with a shake. "What was it?"

"It was also... the librarian," he said with a deep frown. "In one of the books."

He pushed forward the textbook, opening it to reveal the page in which he'd found your face. The stone expression was remarkably similar to your traits, from the curve of your nose to the positioning of your eyes, and the small, polite smile on your lips.

"I found it in the history section," Jack explained. "It says it's from Vedic India."

A quick Google-search later, Sam was reading out the age of Vedic India.

"According to this it says the Vedic age was approximately around 1500 to 800 B.C., so... about 2,500 years ago."

"Wow, this fucker's old," Dean snorted.

Sam shot him a look over the top of his computer screen.

Having found the information they were looking for, the Winchesters began to pack up their belongings and their scribbled notes, shoving them into their bags or into their many-pocketed coats. Jack, on the other hand, prepared himself for talking to you, hoping his ineptness towards social situations with humans wouldn't be too obvious. He swallowed through the knot in his throat, taking a shaking breath in an attempt to steady himself.

It didn't work.

"Dean, what am I supposed to say to them?" He whispered when they were already approaching the front desk, his palms growing sweaty.

"I don't know, their job or something? Something normal," he very unhelpfully advised.

"Thanks for letting us stay for the day," Sam said with a polite smile, handing back one of the printed out records you'd fetched for them from beneath your desk.

"Not a problem. You keep quiet. I like that in a reader," you said, smiling back as you glanced between the three of them.

None of them moved, and your expression turned to mild confusion. Dean had to jab Jack in the side to get him to speak. He opened his mouth to protest, but Dean motioned something to Sam, and the two of them quickly left for the car, leaving Jack alone while they 'situated' themselves.

"I, um..." Jack started before he was ready.

The silence felt wrong, but the silence after saying something was much, much worse. Whatever came into his mind first would have to be what he said.

"I like your job," he said, keenly scanning your expression for any hint of your thoughts.

You paused, clearly taken back for a moment, before you broke out into a chuckle, looking down to your hands as your face flushed.

"I like it quite a lot, too," you said with a grin, looking back up at him. "I've always been interested in becoming a librarian. Granted, I didn't quite imagine it in Kansas, but it is pretty here."

"Where did you imagine it?"

"Greece, actually," you chuckled, and he smiled as well, his heart thumping with a sudden haste. "I was heartbroken to hear the Library of Alexandria was burned down."

"The Library of Alexandria?" He repeated, tilting his head to the side again.

"Haven't heard of it?" You asked.

He shook his head gingerly. Was he supposed to?

No matter––you explained in full what the Library of Alexandria was, when it was created, when it was burnt, and the loss it caused amongst human society. He listened intently, frequently asking questions you were happy to answer. When Jack glanced out the library window, he found the impala gone, and realized Sam's plan had, in a way, worked.

"Are there.. any books about the library?" He asked once you completed your short story.

"Yes, but I don't want to hold you folks up –"

It was then you looked out the window as well, finding the two large men had abandoned the smaller.

"Oh where'd they go?" You said in a curious, high voice.

"Don't worry about that, I... have a bus," he said, earning a strange look. "I am... I ride buses."

A beat of silence passed.

"So the Library was in Greece?" He asked, and your earlier mood returned.

You brought him––with much excitement––to one of the rows in the library filled with simple textbooks for primary school kids. Other rows of your well-tended library were occupied by old books, their bindings worn and frayed at the edges from continuous use. Pages were turned yellow and were soft beneath his fingers, but despite their age they were rather hard for Jack to read and understand, meaning his discovery of children's comprehensible textbooks was a giddy one.

Jack wasn't entirely sure what he was supposed to be looking for when it came to you. What counted as suspicious? You continued to speak with him even after the sun set behind mountains, that could be a sign you were trying to gather information on him, as well. That could also mean you liked him. Was your friendliness suspect?

"- and the Phoenicians were really only called that by the Grecians. The name came from the purple dye that they're famous for, some root word for 'purple people' in Greek is Phoenicia," you explained, moving your hands expressively despite the fact that Jack's eyes were set dead on the textbook on the floor in front of you. Paragraphs of words surrounded modern depictions of ancient people and their art.

"So what was their actual name?" He asked as he looked up to you.

"Canaanites. From the land of Canaan."

"... you know a lot," he said, looking back to the page as you chuckled.

"It's just memory," you said with a shrug.

"Can I... can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"Do you know anything about mythical creatures?"

Surely this would reveal something, Jack thought––you might react poorly, in which case you could be the monster, or you might react in complete knowledge, which... could also mean you were the monster.

"A little," you said slowly. "Why do you ask?"

"I have an interest, in myths and monsters," he said, almost smiling again.

"Oh man, I have a show you're going to love."

Far in the back of the library, a hollow, steel door led to a small break room, the carpet inside being a dark, scratchy grey against his palms when he sat down. There were no chairs in the room, but an old TV sat on a cheap cart plugged into the nearest, bare wall. On the opposite side of the TV was a dull blue counter that stretched from the door to a window covered by plastic shingle curtains.

You snatched the remote off the counter, pressing a large, red button that had the television buzzing to life loudly. The screen sparked, static radiating around it as a thin line of white brought life to a Netflix loading screen.

After several minutes of waiting for Netflix to load and then typing a title into the search bar, a show called Myths and Monsters was before him. He let out a laugh as he realized what had sparked the connection––he'd literally spoken the title.

Would an ancient being or monster know how to work a TV?

Castiel could work a TV.

Kind of.

The first episode began to play and you took a seat beside Jack, crossing your legs neatly beneath you. A few minutes in, rain pattered lightly on the roof, followed by sudden winds that battered the now pouring rain against the window. Jack watched through the side of his eye as you smiled at the change in weather.

That was suspicious.

Late in the evening, when night darkened the land and heavy thunderclouds darkened the sky, he left the library. He stood in the threshold between the warm light on your desk in the otherwise dark room, and the falling rain outside. Yellow-orange streetlamps illuminated the sheets of rain and the nearby bus stop, but you still stopped him, holding the door open as you both stood motionless in front of one another.

"I have a car, I can drive you home," you offered, gesturing over your shoulder to a door in the back that led to a private parking lot behind the library. "I'm not sure if the bus runs this late."

Extended time with you would be good, and he imagined your face illuminated by dim dashboard car lights would be better than good––great. Beautiful. You had wonderfully warm features. But you couldn't know where he lived for a number of reasons; if you were the monster, that was giving away a hiding place, and if you weren't, you would wonder why he lived in such a strange place.

"Thank you, but it's alright," he said. "I like the rain."

A small smile stretched across your plush lips.

"So do I," you said, and the two of you bid good-bye, retreating into your respective dark.

He gave a thorough rundown of the events proceeding after Sam and Dean left, and the three of them––Sam, Dean, and Castiel––listened closely. Dean already filled Castiel in on the rest of the case, and the two brothers were eating at the long table in the bunker's library.

They stared at him in silence when he finished.

"Sounds like a regular kid," Sam finally said.

"Ah don't be so sure about that," Dean said, raising a single brow. "What did you say the monster probably was?"

"A – a fae, or something," he said.

"Fae's good at lying," Dean pointed out, earning a reluctant nod from Castiel.

"He's right. Fairies are remarkably good at acting," he said in his low, grating voice.

"So... what next?" Jack asked.

"We'll keep looking into the case more, and you can probably ask the librarian out on a date," Sam suggested, earning an agreeing remark from Dean. "You can keep them distracted while we search their house."

"Do we know where they live yet?" asked Dean.

"No, but it shouldn't be too hard to find out," Sam said.

Jack watched the brothers for a moment, his mind emptying of answers as to what a 'date' was.

"What's a date?"

"Oh Christ," Dean muttered, moving immediately to his feet and leaving the room.

Sam let out an exasperated sigh at his brother, turning to Jack to explain what a date was, what were appropriate date activities, and how he should act when asking you out and when being out with you.

"Okay," Jack said with a nod despite not really understanding. "What are dates for?"

"They're between people who are interested in.. getting to know each other," Castiel said as he took a seat beside Sam across from Jack.

"So... like when Dean and I went driving."

"No. Not like that," Sam quickly said. "Not like that at all. If – if a guy is interested in a girl, like interested in having her be his girlfriend, then he might ask her out on a date. It's a romantic thing."

"The librarian does seem to be interested in you, from what I’ve heard," Castiel said with a pointed look in Jack's direction.

"I think you've got a shot," Sam agreed, nodding.

Jack thought for a moment before he said, "okay."

A few days later––Dean insisted he only try a few days later, saying anything less was damaging his honor––Jack returned to the library, lighting up when he found you were still working at the small front desk, your nose buried in a large box full of papers. Large, round glasses were hanging off the tip of your nose, and you pushed them up to your eyes when they slipped further off.

The door clicked softly shut behind him when he entered, scanning the room as if there was another reason he was there. You watched him the whole time, continuing to when he approached you, something obviously on his mind.

"I was wondering..." he trailed off, losing himself in your bright, expectant eyes. When he realized he'd fallen silent, he added the first thing that came to mind––a lie. "... if you could show me where the... books are."

You chuckled before you said, "which ones?"

"Maps," he said, smiling as he came up with something actually substantial.

Of course, it wasn't asking you out, but at least it was talking to you. He would have to do that later, though he supposed he'd have to do it that day or he would be disappointing the Winchesters and Castiel when he came back to the bunker without even trying to complete their orders.

"We don't really have a maps section, but I might be able to help you if you tell me the time and place you're looking for," you suggested for him, and he nodded slowly.

"Yes. Please."

"So what are you looking for?"

"Oh. Right, uh.. Greece and Mediterranean," he said, repeating subjects from the last time you'd spoken.

"Mediterranean sea?"

He nodded.

"What year?" You asked.

"Uh..." he drew another blank, "two... hundred."

You seemed reluctant to ask the next question, but it was necessary; "before christ or after?"

"... before."

"Alright," you said with a soft snicker, moving around your crowded desk area and towards the bookcases.

Your stride slowed as you approached a certain shelf, shifting up onto the tips of your toes to reach the highest books. Jack thought of offering his help, but he wasn't much taller than you––if at all––and he didn't know which books to get down.

Four thick books ended up in your arms, and you heaved them over to the nearest table, letting them thump down heavily. You spread them out, flipping rapidly through the pages till you found the proper maps you seemed to have memorized within each of the books.

"This one's about 900 BC to 200 AD, so it's got a bit wider of a range. Includes the bigger cities. This one is.. 1500 BC to 300 BC, so a little bit within range, has a lot more cities," you said, moving from one textbook to the next while Jack stared at you, enamored by your plush lips.

He barely even noticed that you finished your explanations, nor your quick words mentioning you should probably return to your studies and leave him to it. But he reached out on instinct, grabbing your wrist and tugging gently, convincing you to turn back to him. Your eyes, still bright, retained that same patient expectancy as his previous evening with you.

"I... could you talk to me?" He asked, oblivious to the implications read clearly by you.

"About what?" You asked in return as you stepped subtly closer.

"About fairies."

You paused, your eyes widening slightly.

"The ones from Celtic folklore or... like modern media fairies?" You asked slowly, slinking down into a seat you situated to face him.

He did the same, his feet planted firmly on the floor as he watched you, a smile tugging at his lips.

"Just... the oldest versions of fairies."

You nodded, again slowly as you pursed your lips.

"Well the oldest mentions of them in literature actually comes from ancient Greece, from the Iliad, by Homer," you began, immediately using your hands expressively as you spoke. "Those weren't Celtic fairies, though. Greeks considered creatures like satyrs and such to be fairies, as well, so... generally fairies and the fae as we think of them now came from Ireland and Scotland."

"Where are they?" He asked with a head tilt.

You stuttered for a second, your eyes flying across the room until you stood, returning to the shelves. He watched with much humor as you read the book titles at a frightening pace, fingers flipping over the bindings till you pulled one down.

"Here, world map," you said, and though he didn't notice, you didn't comment on the oddity of not knowing where Scotland and Ireland were. Almost everyone knew where those two countries were; or, at least, the general area.

"In Ireland fairies are seen as simply... mythical people. Great warriors and poets, or witches, they're all considered part of the fae in Celtic culture. In Scotland, though, fairies are more dangerous, essentially being creatures that feed off humans in one way or another," you continued. "Like... banshees, those are Scottish, and jack o' lanterns."

"Jack o' lanterns?"

He'd heard of banshees before; they were mentioned a few times by the Winchester brothers.

"Not like the Halloween pumpkins," you said, but when you were met with further confusion, you slowly said, "...and you don't know what those are either, do you?"

He shook his head reluctantly.

You spent the next two, whole hours talking to him, going over any question he had no matter how much you thought he should've known the answer to begin with. Jack relaxed into that feeling, into that ease, while suspicion grew in your own mind. There was no one of his age and stature that didn't know the questions he posed. Still, you found yourself unable to pin any such wariness of manipulation onto such a polite boy.

Engrossed fully in whatever you had to say and rarely speaking himself, Jack absorbed a number of facts about the fae. About their trickery and mischief, about their magic, how different species had different thoughts on humanity. Considering the lengths you knew about other subjects, none of what you told him occurred to him as suspicious. You seemed, again, to be a dedicated––but human––scholar.

When at last he exhausted his questions, both on and off topic, he began a build-up of courage. Asking someone out for a case should've been much easier than this, or at least that's what he thought. Dean mentioned he'd done similar things for other such cases.

Jack's face scrunched up in deep thought despite the silence between you.

"Are you alright, Jack?" You asked.

"Oh. I'm... fine," he said, nodding his head in a way that didn't convince you all that well. "I – I wanted to ask you something."

You nodded, gently helping him along.

"I know we don't know each other that well, but... you.. interest me, and.." he trailed off once more. It was difficult to tell a lie that was technically the truth. "I was wondering if you wanted to go with me. On a date."

He expected a number of things from you––perhaps anger, perhaps embarrassment, perhaps shock, but you just chuckled, leaning back in your chair. His brow furrowed at your odd reaction. Were you laughing at him?

"Was that what you wanted to ask me when you first came in?" You said through your giggles, your soft skin glowing in the warm, early evening light.

"... yes," he said, huffing out his own chuckle as his eyes fell to the floor. "I'm sorry."

"There's no need to apologize," you said with a grin. “You’re the one who had to listen to me ramble.”

"So.. will you..?"

"Yeah," you chuckled, nodding. "I enjoy your company as well."

A smile made a permanent home on Jack's face as he returned to the bunker, his official mission having been successfully completed, and his hands still burning with the touch you left as he walked out the door. While most of the town smelled like baking pies and cinnamon cider, the bunker carried no such warmth, and smelled more like rotting leaves than anything else, though Sam lit a couple apple candles in his room. The scent filled part of a long hallway.

He found his fathers all sitting on a single couch, facing a television that had some sort of film playing on it through the static. Jack silently stepped round the nearest chair, taking a seat beside them, and watching on intently. A soft, high note hummed from the speakers.

Red, ratted curtains pulled way for sunlight streaming through dust-filled air. The wooden windowsill had a vase in which a single, molted flower sat, most of its petals having fallen off long ago. But that wasn't where the camera stopped; it halted above the image of two women tangled in sheets similarly worn down as the curtains were, requiring many patches over large holes. One had their face pressed to the other's neck, her nose nudging a sharp jawline owned by still sleeping eyes. Their limbs were knotted tight together, chest to chest, and a quiet, sleepy melody humming out of the smaller's pale lips.

Jack frowned. He'd never seen two people so physically close together. The nearest thing he'd seen was Dean and Castiel hugging, and even that was reserved in a way. This was pure trust––pure peace, and he found himself wondering if it was entirely fictional, or if such happiness could really exist in the world that at times felt poisoned.

Maybe it did exist if you found a way to smile that brightly.

He earned a whole other course of schooling once he announced their plan was successful. Dean clapped him proudly on the back, shooting a dirty grin that Sam countered with clean praise. Even Castiel seemed to be proud. Jack beamed at that, his heartbeat now pounding at the thought of three days from now; when he had planned the date.

In the meantime, the brothers stayed up for most of the night, though they looked much worse for wear that morning than Jack after he stayed up with them. Researching faes was actually a little easier than a lot of other monsters––there were many articles about them, and a deeply-engrained fear of changeling children had led to thorough documentation on the fae realm and its inhabitants. Jack was still a little slow at typing, so Sam captained the computer research, while Jack sped through the books in the bunker's library. Dean looked through articles and stories in newspapers searching for any hint of where they children might be kept if they weren't immediately killed.

The more he read about fairies, about their habits, their composure, and their lies, the less he could picture you as one. Originally a fairy brought to mind someone beautiful and fair, or someone like you, with dazzling eyes that could stop an archangel in their step. But the sharp teeth and wicked, wirey hair didn't sound at all like you. He'd felt your hands––once brushing over his––and there were no claws or stinging sensations that lingered in your touch. Still, the Winchesters probably knew better than him, and he pushed the feeling aside.

In the next evening, after Dean took a long day nap, Sam and Dean set to packing up their tools and tricks once more, tossing them into the back of the impala with the rest of the permanent fixtures. Jack watched as they did this, his hair still neat and clean despite not sleeping or washing up for two days.

"Can I come with?" He asked in the politest voice he could manage.

They were headed off to the library under the cover of night. After hearing about several back rooms Jack noticed during his time there, a reasonable question was posed––was there more information you could be hiding?

"Uh –" Sam began, only to be cut off by Dean saying –

"No. If we get found, that's fine, but if you're with us, we lose your relationship with her."

Before Jack could reply Dean climbed into the drivers seat, followed by Sam clambering in beside him. He had issues getting into the car at times. The engine stuttered to life, and Sam waved good-bye through the windshield as they pulled and drove the car away.

Jack frowned, his brow knitted together again.

"Bye," he said, but he was the only one to hear it.

Castiel would be back soon. He decided waiting in the library would guarantee he'd see Castiel as soon as possible, something he desired, as there were a number of new questions he wanted to pose to the elder angel. Thousands of years his senior, Castiel must've had answers––some sort of insight to some strange impulses, or simply comfort against 'wrong' thoughts.

Technically your library was private, meaning others weren't allowed to take your books away from the building, but you allowed him to take something home under the assurance of a guarantee. He would return it next time he saw you, a promise that clearly meant a lot to you going by the ease that overtook you when he said 'okay' with a signature, sweet smile. The only reason you leant the book to him was because it contained information you considered thought-provoking, thoughts about how humanity evolves, and how technological advances could change the actual anatomy of the human mind. Some of the claims seemed to him to be a bit of a reach, but others brought him interesting points.

The metal latch on the door let out a resounding click as the door swung open, Castiel standing behind with wild hair and a stunned look about him. He flung the door shut before running down the stairs towards Jack.

"Have they gotten back from the library yet?" He asked as he approached.

"No, they left..." he glanced at the clock, "a couple hours ago."

"Hmm," Castiel grumbled. "That's a long time for them."

"Should we go help them?" Jack suggested, setting your book aside as he stood straighter in his chair.

"No, we'll give them some more time. See what happens," he said before he set off, jogging into the hall.

Jack sighed as he slumped back into his seat, almost mourning the death of an easy excuse to go see your library. And Castiel left before he could ask him anything. Dean had a point, though––if they were caught and he was with them, that would ruin your relationship entirely, and that was something he, for some reason, despised.

It took another hour and a half before Sam and Dean were waltzing back in from the garage, tossing their duffel bags aside and shucking off warm, autumn jackets to side chairs. Something must've given away their presence, as Castiel was quick to reenter the main room.

"How did it go?" He asked.

"Like shit," Dean said, not even bothering to stop as he passed Castiel.

"We didn't find anything," Sam clarified. "Whole place was clean."

"Well.. maybe it's at their house," Castiel said almost gingerly, turning to keep his ever-vigilant eyes on the elder Winchester. "All the tools and... stuff."

"Yeah, that's what we're hoping," Dean said as he disappeared into the hallway.

"When did you say your date was again?" Sam asked, turning to Jack, who blanked for a moment before he answered.

"Two days from now," he said.

"Alright, well... we'll see what happens," he said with a nod, setting his hands on his hips. "Hopefully find where they might be hiding the kids."

Dean reentered with a bottle in hand, taking a quick swig as he settled down into one of the cushier chairs.

Jack's heart sped when his fingers began to fidget together, squirming restlessly in front of him. Questions still lingered on the edge of his mind, and answers from anyone would do him well, though he was well aware Dean would probably be reluctant to offer any advice to him.

"Could I ask you some questions?" He asked in the general direction of Cas, who happened to be standing right beside Dean. Castiel opened his mouth to answer.

"Sure," Dean said before he could speak. Castiel promptly shut his mouth after that.

"I know this shouldn't get in the way of the case, and it won't," Jack said as he took a seat opposite Dean. He and his brother shot each other glances. "I just have strange... thoughts, when I am around the librarian. Impulses, kind of."

Dean, who had raised the bottle to his lips, paused at those words and set it down instead, a decision that shocked both Sam and Castiel.

"What kind of impulses?" He asked in a flat voice.

"I want to... eat them," Jack said slowly, his brow furrowed deeply as he looked at the ground. When he looked back up, all three men were staring at him.

"You want to what??" Castiel asked.

"Like.. put my mouth on them...?" He tried.

"Wait – you mean kissing?" Sam asked as he shifted his weight between his feet.

"N... no, I don't think it's that," Jack said, though he was growing even less sure of himself with how they continued to gawk at him.

"You want to make out with the fairy?" Dean asked with a look that screamed 'unbelievable'.

"Maybe?" was the best answer Jack could offer.

Dean sighed, rubbing his face tiredly with his free hand.

"I don't want to.. encourage these thoughts," Castiel said, "but they might help on your date."

"So I should kiss them?"

"Maybe at the end of it," Sam suggested.

"And... how do I kiss?"

"Fuckin' –" Dean muttered under his breath as he stood, leaving the room with annoyance in his scowl.

The three of them––Jack, Sam, and Castiel––watched Dean round the corner and disappear.

"Ignore him," Sam said.

Sam, with some help from Castiel, patiently re-explained the happenings and ongoings of dates, from conversation topics to activities often done on dates. Sam assured Jack that he needn't do anything dramatic, over the top, or especially original, since Jack 'wasn't actually going on a date,' a phrase that made him a little sad for a reason he couldn't identify.

A bouquet of chocolate roses lay in his hands, the neon and florescent lights of the convenience store flickering and buzzing above him. Sam insisted a good way to start a date was with a gift––conventionally flowers, but the second Jack saw the chocolate roses he was entranced. He'd never seen candy in the shape of something real. Surely you would be delighted by the art, as well. Sam was less sure than he was, but allowed him to buy it with a chuckle, muttering something about how he wouldn't need to get chocolates anymore.

"Now remember," Sam began as he adjusted Jack's collar, "blood-soaked iron is what kills them, but since we don't have that right now, I think iron should hurt them."

"Forks, fire pokers, metal pipes... those usually have iron in them," said Dean.

"And if you get into a fight, just get out of there," Sam finished.

"No hanky-panky, either," Dean said.

"Dean," he hissed, slapping his brother's arm.

"What's hanky-panky?" Jack asked, furrowing his brow.

"Nevermind, just––be safe, have fun," Sam said with a smile, patting his shoulder.

The brothers dropped him off at your house before circling the block in search of a good vantage point. He took a shaky breath as he climbed your steps, soon rapping his knuckles on the plain, wooden door. It was a bit of a task trying to swallow, but he managed to push past his tight throat and put a smile on his face.

Footsteps sounded, growing closer until the door opened, revealing your wide eyes and the olive green silk you wore, draping elegantly from your chest down to your feet. A heavyweight scarf rested upon your shoulders. The warm light of the hallway behind you illuminated the loose strands of your always messy hair, but the sight still had his lips parting as he gasped softly. He felt suddenly out of place in his simple button-down, pants, and everyday jacket, shifting his weight almost uncomfortably as he found himself at a loss for words.

"You look... really nice," he said rather awkwardly, gesturing vaguely to your outfit with a dopey smile.

"Thanks," you said, chuckling. "You look nice too."

He stared for another moment before he suddenly remembered the chocolate and foil roses in his hands.

"I got these for you," he said as he handed them to you, scanning every inch of your reaction. "Sam told me to get flowers, but I think this is better, ‘cause then you get to eat them."

"You actually can eat roses! They just don't taste very good," you giggled, fixing your hair as you took them, a blushing smile still on your face. "I do like chocolate more, though."

"Oh, good," he said, his shoulders finally falling from their tense position. "I hope you don't mind walking. I don't know how to drive."

"I like walking, actually," you said as you walked past him, trotting down the front steps of your house. He followed along, his soft brown hair flopping like a puppy's ears over innocent eyes. "I like taking walks at night, but I don't take them a lot. It's kind of dangerous."

"Why?"

"A lot of people aren't very nice, or they're down on their luck and make poor decisions. I don't want to get hurt or mugged just because I like wandering around."

"Why would someone hurt you? You're such a nice person," he said with a frown.

"That doesn't mean anything," you laughed softly.

Food wasn't a particular attraction of Kansas, but few things were. The amount of restaurants in town was high, most of them serving a very similar menu containing lots of meat, barbecue, pie, and sometimes funnel cake. None were all that classy, so Jack took you to a place that Sam recommended––a nearly 24 hours open cafe whose kitchen was always open, and who hosted quiet, live jazz on select evenings.

You and Jack spoke of a number of things while you walked, none more interesting than any of your previous conversation topics, as you seemed to want to stay on the topic of him as a person rather than the history you usually rambled about. You asked who Sam was, which he explained as one of his fathers, at which point you asked who the second was. He hesitated for a moment, unsure if he should tell the truth or formulate a more normal-person lie.

"I... my mother died in childbirth," he said, his voice uncharacteristically low and quiet, murmuring with the sureness of his trust in you. "My father, Castiel, takes care of me, with his brothers, Sam and Dean."

"Oh. I'm sorry," you murmured, and he opened his mouth to give the usual speech––it's alright, I've gotten used to it––but you continued with, "it's an honorable way to die."

He paused to absorb your words. No one had ever said that before.

"Yeah," he finally said. "I guess you're right."

"So what's your father like?"

He sucked in a breath, forced to once again decide between a truth, a half-truth, and a lie. Like with most things, he took the middle road.

"My genetic father isn't... I don't talk to him," he said.

"Oh."

"But Castiel is good. He always tries to do what's right. I'm still trying to learn about this whole.. being-alive thing, from him."

"I think we all are," you chuckled.

You ended up ordering for him when you finally got to the cafe, standing in line for only a few minutes before you were looking for a table. He had trouble understanding the menu, often asking you what things were, and eventually you had to gently push him on to let the next people in line have a turn. If this bothered you, it didn't show.

Piano and saxophone played in time with one another, their rhythms and melodies dancing around the beat of the drummer. Scant, warm light shone from above, illuminating the haze of clouds drifting from smokers, most of whom stood in the corner, nursing the embers as they watched the musicians play. Jack tapped his foot to the beat against the dark oak floor.

You joined him a moment later, two coffees in hand and your coat draped over your arm.

"Have you ever been here before?" You asked as you took a seat, casting your jacket over the back of the chair after you set the coffee down.

"No, I don't really get out much," he admitted.

"How come?"

"I don't.. really have friends," he admitted, again, though this time much more reluctantly. He'd heard that generally people respected you more if you had friends.

"That's alright," you said, leaning back with a soft smile made only more alluring by the dim, red and orange light. "I've found it's more fun to stay in than to go out sometimes. Everything becomes the same after a while. You can drink at home, you can dance at home, sing, host parties..." you sipped from your steaming cup, ".. so, obviously, I don't go out much either."

"You have friends, though?"

"Not really," you chuckled, glancing down. "Books last longer than conversation, generally."

"Then... why talk to me?" He asked, attempting to meet your eye with that knot still tucked into his brow.

"Because you came to me."

Soon your conversation was halted by a server bringing out your food. You made sure to thank him as he left, before hungry eyes settled eagerly upon your funnel cake. Unwrapping the napkin, you set the orange cloth on your lap, revealing your silverware. Jack followed your lead, copying your motions near exactly down to you rubbing your hands together excitedly.

He'd never tried funnel cake before, leaving him to melt as he took his first bite.

"Good, isn't it?" You chuckled through a full mouth.

He nodded ardently.

The crowd began to thin halfway through your meal, turning thick conversation to quiet murmurs confined to singular tables in corners and shadowed areas. Jack still had yet to find anything incriminating about you, an answer that led only to other questions, ones that flew wildly around his head.

You didn't seem human––at least, not entirely. There were things you said that hinted to something else, a knowledge within that was a little too wide for the lengths of a human mind. That and your soul; what he could see of your soul was strangely colored, florescent holographic, and warped far more than normal people's usually were––almost as warped as Sam and Dean's souls now were. Bright, yes, but warped. Something had happened to you.

But there was nothing bad within you. Darkness tinted the edges, the edges so often scraped by the world around you––the world around both of you––but the center within, where your heart emanated, was clear. It was actually rather beautiful; you were rather beautiful.

He wished he could tell you without seeming strange.

"What do you think about most, Jack?" You asked, pulling him away from his thoughts.

He instantly stuttered, as what he'd been thinking about was you, but he couldn't say that.

"Just.. uh, my, uh.. my place in the world," he said, tapping the end of his fork on the old wood table.

"Like your job, or your purpose as a human?" You asked as you sipped from your third refill of coffee.

"My purpose, sort of," he said, his eyes flickering to the ground. "I have a lot of responsibility. My father thinks I'm very powerful."

Was that giving too much away?

"What does he want you to do?"

"He wants me... to stay alive," he said, earning a soft chuckle from you that had a smile spreading across his own face. "I think he wants me to be safe and happy."

"That's a wonderful goal," you said with a grin. "And there are so many ways to achieve that."

So far he'd only found ways to achieve the opposite––how to antagonize the world by existing, how his grandfather wanted him dead, how his genetic father would use him for any power grab he posed. If you wanted to feel at risk of dying at any moment, he knew a thousand ways to do it.

"I haven't really found any," he said quietly.

You paused before you asked, "do you want my advice?"

He nodded, hesitantly at first, but sure of himself when you smiled softly.

"Always be kind to others. Mind your own business unless someone is getting hurt, and if you have to get your hands dirty, do it for only a second. Then get the hell out of there and wash yourself clean for the next hundred couple years," you said.

There it was again. A hint of something more. In passing conversations Jack heard from strangers, no one spoke like they lived history. Not like you did. And he'd wager no historian spoke with the sense of memory that you did.

"Anything specific make you realize that?" He asked, unable to stop himself from chuckling.

You looked his age––sometime in your 20's––but you spoke like an 80 year old. Something about that facade appeared humorous to him. He also looked your age––sometime in his 20′s––but he spoke like a 10 year old far more than he liked to admit.

"Family drama," you said dismissively. "I've been steering clear for a while now."

Did fairies have families?

Well, if you were a fairy, you could just be lying then.

Jack frowned. If Dean or Castiel were here, they would know what to say and think.

"I understand," was what he said instead.

The impala was still parked near the house by the time Jack was walking you home, a sight that nearly sent him panicking. Sam and Dean wouldn't want him to do that. So he clenched his fists in his pockets, his shoulders tightening ever so slightly as he tried to slow his pace in a way you wouldn't notice.

But you did. Of course you did.

"You alright, Jack?" You asked, matching his pace.

"Yeah, I just..." what was something normal to say? Something he could back up – "I meant to ask you something, but I didn't ever... find the time to."

"What was it you wanted to ask?"

He shivered as a brisk wind picked up, the dry, orange leaves on the edges of the sidewalk passing quick by his feet in the breeze.

"Do you think everyone feels this lost in life?" He asked, barely audible above the wind.

"There's a little bit of you in everybody, just like how there's a little bit of everybody in you. You're capable of the same things that a murderer is just as you are a... a hero, or a martyr," you said, taking time to think before you spoke. "Humans are remarkably similar, you come to see after a while. And even Gods face these questions, these wonderings of their origins and their purpose, if their creations are everything they're meant for or – or if they're doing something wrong, and they should be doing something else instead."

He continued to stare at the ground as you walked slowly side by side, brought out of his intense expression by something soft flopping over the back of his neck. His heart thrummed as you stopped him there, turning him to face you, and looking him in the eye as you fixed your scarf on his shoulders. The effect was instantaneous––his shoulders relaxed and the stress fell from his brow, absorbed in the warmth of your gesture.

"Whatever you're going through," you gave him a pointed look, telling him silently to not deny this truth, "is worse and better than what other people go through. It may not be the best but it's probably not the worst."

Your advice, though insightful, didn't mean much considering his problems had to do with the continued life or prompt execution of the entire universe by a bitter, old man. But the main point remained; there were more painful deaths than his, just as there were better ways to die than he would or will. He may not be facing the best circumstances, but they could be much worse, and the fact that normal humans often asked the same questions he did was more of a comfort than he thought it would be. Perhaps he really was connected to his mother in that way.

The steps creaked beneath your shared weight as you both approached the front door of your house. You opened the door, stepping partway through the threshold before you turned to him, hesitation lacing your open mouth.

Behind you, Jack managed to spot two shadowed figures running across the hallway towards what he presumed to be a back door. His eyes widened imperceptibly and he pursed his lips, quick averting his gaze back to you.

"You're special, Jack," you said quietly, scanning him with a careful look. "Don't let bad circumstances own you. You only get so much time in this world."

"You're very kind," was all he could managed to respond with. "Thanks for... going out with me tonight."

"Of course. I like talking to you."

"I'm glad you do," he said with a sheepish chuckle, one you mimicked as you fixed your hair.

"I'll see you again soon?"

"Yes, I – oh," he interrupted himself, remembering your scarf still enveloping him, "this belongs to you."

"Don't worry about it," you said, taking his arms and settling them back down to his sides. "It's kind of cold out tonight, and I'm assuming you're walking home... aren't you?"

"... yeah," he lied, blood rushing to his face at the thought of taking a piece of you home.

"Then I'll get it back another time," you said, smiling.

You hesitated to close the door again, and instead you gingerly moved forward, raising yourself to press a single, soft kiss to his cheek, the edge of it just barely touching his lips. His mouth parted in surprise, but before he could say anything you shut the door.

He walked back to the impala completely starstruck.

"I don't think they're dangerous," Jack said, restating what he'd said earlier to Sam and Dean on the drive home––he just couldn't see you as suspicious. Strange, yes, but not murderous.

"If what you say is true, though, then this is quite likely a fae," said Castiel as his eyes flickered from Jack to Sam and Dean.

"See? Facts are facts, kid," Dean said, pointing to Castiel with a smile.

"Hexbags, crystals, actual photos with them from, like, 1890? And the amount of plants," Sam continued with a slight shudder.

"How many plants were there?" Castiel asked, frowning sternly.

"Too damn many," Dean answered for him. "The point is, we gotta interrogate that thing."

"They didn't do anything wrong!" Jack said, his voice tripling without his knowledge.

Everyone in the room reacted accordingly––stiff postures and sharp breaths as the golden light faded in his eyes.

"Jack..." Castiel began hesitantly, his voice quiet and low.

He barely uttered out an 'I'm sorry,' before he turned and left, disappearing down the hallway and into his room.

It took him nearly a whole day to leave his room, having spent most of the time alone to brood and ponder over his actions, and whether or not he was being manipulated by a fairy creature. He couldn't deny the fact that there was a chance he was wrong and he was under your control, thus landing him with the only sane decision, somehow; trust Sam and Dean.

Silence surrounded him as he padded through the bunker, headed towards the kitchens after not eating for nearly 24 hours. Technically he could live without food for much, much longer than that, even without sleep, but it wasn't a particularly pleasant experience.

When he reached the kitchen he also found it empty. In fact, the whole bunker sounded empty, leaving all the cereal for him. He smiled.

Sam and Dean returned before Castiel did, though after their return they hid away doing 'private business' in the basement area. Jack tried to ask what it was they were doing, but Dean curtly brushed him off, sending him back upstairs to go clean up the mess they left in the kitchen after a quick, midnight dinner.

As he was scrubbing the dishes, a door lock clattered in the distance, marking Castiel's return. Now that the fort was manned again, he could sneak off to see you in the morning. Castiel informed him that showing up at people's houses at midnight could be seen in a very bad way. He knew you wouldn't judge him, but he still didn't want to embarrass himself, and it was only a few more hours to wait till dawn.

He could fly. He could also ask Sam or Dean to drive him (while he could also ask to drive Baby, he knew the answer would be an ardent no), but the grey clouds promised rain, and the smell of rain hitting the leaf-covered earth pleasured his mind. With your scarf wrapped around him, he could avoid the cold as well.

His feet were a little tired by the time your library came into view, though still warm in the crisp air from fuzzy, woolen socks. The frayed edges of your scarf fluttered about chaotically in the wind as he noticed something rather odd––the library wasn't open. None of the lights were turned on, the chairs were still atop the tables, and you were nowhere to be seen. He had left the bunker a little early, but you always opened by 5AM at the latest, and it was 8 now.

For several minutes he hadn't a clue as to what to do, meaning he stood motionless in silence in front of the glass door, his head tilting slowly to the side in confusion. Maybe you woke up late––that would explain it. You were perfectly safe in your bed, dozing after a good night's sleep, completely unharmed.

But things rarely worked out so easily for Jack. Your home was empty, no sign of your disappearance left as your shoes, jacket, keys, and wallet were still left by the front door. In a sudden panic at the thought of your absence, the world around him flickered for a split second before he appeared in the bunker's war room. Knowing the usual fate of the people he cared about, you were probably being hurt, perhaps kidnapped by the actual fae who'd been killing the children, or lost of your own volition in a forest you wandered too far into.

"Castiel." Jack grabbed the angel's coat sleeve, stopping him on the way to the stairs. "I went looking for the librarian and they're missing."

"Missing?" Castiel repeated with a grimace. "Did you check the library and the house?"

"Yes, I couldn't find them."

"They might be headed for the children," he said, sending a pang through Jack's heart that he ignored.

"Is... is there a way to track a fae?"

"There's no spell I know of," Castiel said, his gaze falling to the floor as he scanned his mind. "But if it's a magical creature, it may carry a sort of... a sort of scent."

"A scent?" Jack furrowed his brow, wondering if something could carry your scent.

Something you'd been around a while. Something like your books, or your bed, or –

Jack jumped after he realized he was still wearing your scarf which, despite its' time with Jack in his room, still smelled of you. He shoved it into Castiel's arms, but he only gave him a confused look.

"It's their scarf," he explained.

Castiel spared him from the embarrassment of explaining how he'd gotten it.

He held the crumpled scarf in his hand up to his nose, intaking a deep breath with closed eyes. Jack hadn't ever heard of this kind of tracking, which was odd since he inherently knew most things about angels, but he would never distrust his father. What he did distrust was the churning feeling in his chest, as though a curved knife had impaled itself in him and twisted slowly through his skin.

Doubts pervaded both angels almost immediately as Castiel followed the trail. It led near to the stairs, but took a harsh turn and went into the hallway, leading them further into the bunker.

"Are you sure this is theirs?" Castiel asked as they hurried down the hall.

"Positive," he said, earning a sigh and a nod from Castiel.

They continued, this time less sure of themselves, as the scarf continued to lead them through the bunker, trotting down stairs till they landed in the base floor. Here the walls, ceiling, and floor were made of thick cement, allowing their footsteps to echo around the empty halls.

Jack picked up the pace and Castiel followed, running after the trail that ended right in front of the dungeon door. The torture room door, where monsters were locked up, and sometimes friends as well. A sort of fury was boiling in his blood despite his earlier acceptance of the Winchester's plan. Keeping you here in secret was never something he agreed to.

Without even fully realizing it, Jack was wrenching open the handle, the door whizzing open and slamming against the wall with a resounding crack. There, in the center of a pentagram, you were bound to a chair with thick, iron chains, your molted form flanked by Sam and Dean. The latter carried a knife in his hand, one covered in dripping blood. Sam whirled around at the sound of the door opening, meaning he was the first to see Jack's glowing eyes, and the suddenly panicked expression on Castiel's face.

"What are you doing to them?" Castiel growled with wide eyes, taking long, quick steps over in front of you. Without hesitation he undid the restraints, letting you fall down to the floor.

"Cas, they're a fae," Dean said, his tone stern and curt.

"No, they're not," Castiel replied, his own voice equally as sure. "I can't.. blame you, for not knowing this. You're only human. But it's obvious to me."

Sam opened his crossed arms, waiting for the angel to explain himself. Meanwhile, Jack regained his composure after being shocked by Castiel's actions, and made his way over to you, kneeling at your side. You'd been cut in a few different places––nothing too grievous, at least not by Winchester standards––and drops of your blood painted streaks down your sweaty skin.

"They're an Old God," Castiel finally said, but the words were followed by silence.

"We're just supposed to know what that is?" Dean asked gruffly.

"I thought your brother might," he said in a quiet voice.

Dean unfolded his arms, shifting his weight as he cast a glance to his brother.

"Old Gods are... ancient deities created by wandering bands of hunter-gatherers in your past. They got their power from their worshippers, not from Chuck, which... made them very different, to say the least," Castiel continued, still keeping his voice soft as he raised his hand above several of your wounds, stitching the skin back together with his grace.

"I've heard of hunter and gatherers," Jack said as he recalled some of the books in your library. "They wandered in bands of around 50 to 100 people."

He earned several unimpressed stares.

"Well – if they got their power from worshippers, how's this one still alive?" Sam asked after a moment of silence.

"I don't know," Castiel admitted. "I've never met this one before."

"Okay, just because they're not a fae doesn't mean they aren't the one that killed those kids," Dean said, interrupting their short conversation.

The iron knife still twirled in his hands; the only weapon against fairies. Jack kept a close eye on it as they spoke.

"An Old God would never hurt a human," Castiel said with such an intensity that no one had any choice but to believe him. “And besides,” he turned back to you, “they would’ve lost their powers long ago when humans stopped believing in them.”

Your eyes listed open while you lay in Jack's hold, the swirling image of your friend coming lazily into view.

"... Jack?" You mumbled, struggling to keep your eyelids up.

His gaze shot down to you, eyes widening at the sight of your movement.

"Hey," he said softly, hushing you when you tried to speak. "Are you okay?"

You mustered your strength to nod.

"I'm assuming you're an agricultural God," Castiel said after a moment of watching the two of you interact. "You look to be around 12,000 years old." He looked up to Dean and Sam. "That's how old agriculture is."

"Yeah, I know," Sam scoffed, but Dean remained silent.

"Do I really look that old?" You asked, laughing through your slurred words.

"Your soul does," Castiel answered.

You hummed weakly in response, drifting back into unconsciousness, your body going limp in Jack's arms.

Jack healed what remaining injuries you had, using it partway as an excuse to touch you. His palms set flat on the cuts, and with you far off in your dreams, you didn't feel the burn or the relief of his healing. He thought first to bring to his room to lay you on his bed, but Sam gently suggested that you should be put in one of their many spare bedrooms.

Castiel and the Winchesters attempted to take his mind off of you, but it wasn't long before he was back at your side, waiting for you to wake up again. He scanned your body constantly with his mind, searching for any hidden injuries he might've missed the first time around. The case remained unsolved, the children still missing and the culprit unknown. Your disqualifying left the Winchesters with no more suspects, but Jack couldn’t bring himself to worry about a creature that wouldn’t strike again for another ten years when you wouldn’t wake up to his voice calling your name.

It took hours until you stirred again, eyes fluttering into a half-open state as they fell to Jack. He had his head hung low, his elbows leant on his knees, and his hair drooping in front of his face.

"I was created in Turkey," you rasped out through a dry throat.

At the slightest sound his head shot up, eyes widening with a spark upon seeing your soft smile.

"It's a country, by the way," you mumbled, correctly assuming Jack didn't know the country, and only knew the bird. "At a place they call Gobekli Tepe, now. The people of the land would... would gather there, and share their cultured seeds, and the magic needed to make them grow."

"Magic?"

"Simple water and sunlight," you said with a weak chuckle. "It was magic to them. Everything was."

You fell silent before you said, "I miss them."

"Were they different? From people now?" Jack asked.

"Very," you nodded assuredly. "But there are some people, nowadays, that remind me of them."

He chuckled quietly. Warmth spread from your touch when you reached forward, just barely gracing his hand with yours. He took the initiative, entangling your fingers together, and watching intently as your thumb ran over the back of his hand.

"You are a new God, aren't you?" You asked, narrowing your eyes curiously, with no sense of hostility.

"I'm... I'm a nephilim. Lucifer's son, actually, but I promise I'm not like him," he said, gripping you tighter.

"A nephilim?" You asked with a frown.

"The son of an angel," he clarified.

It was the first time he was able to tell you something you didn't know instead of the other way around.

"I've never heard of angels."

His brows raised in surprise.

"Really?" He asked.

"I haven't really kept up with the world as of recent. When did angels first appear?"

"I... don't know," he said after wracking his brain and finding no answer. "Castiel might know."

"Castiel.. Castiel, that was your father, right?"

"Yeah. The good one," he said, earning a chuckle from you that brought a blush to his face.

"He is another God?"

"Another angel, yes," he nodded. "(Y/N), I... I have so many questions for you."

"About what?" You asked skeptically, giving him a playful glare.

"About humans, mostly," he said. "I mean, I've already been asking you questions, but now I know you have a lot more answers than I thought."

"Yes, well, I do keep my memory stored in a mushroom," you muttered beneath your breath.

Jack frowned. Was that normal?

"Can you tell me about them?" He asked, just barely masking his eagerness.

"My people?"

He nodded, and you smiled softly, your eyes glazing over as you recalled thousands of years past.

[moonlitcomet]

Cool! So I was reading your World anvil page & saw some mentions to supposed historic events such as the Eye of Chronos, do you have a history for Soul Rune Cier? If not I will happily read an entire text block of stuff of a drafted history. : )

I'd say a good place to start is the history of the canon Cier, but much of the things in there are either ignored or changed for the sake of making SRC its own world with its own rules and history.

I don't have any documents for the actual history, within our timelines, so most of SRC's history is scattered and fragmentary; which partially works because the most interesting part of their history - the Great Dragon War - is mysterious and mostly lost to time. I do however have a little I can share about it, and that is the thing I will share in this ask.

Hidden away in gargantuan ice caves in Neira, remains of long-extinct species of dragons can be found, impaled by stone and permafrost. These pillars of hatred that pollute the caverns are permanent reminders of the violent war on dragons thousands of years ago.

Ancient magic.

Also known as Dragonsbane affinities, this magic is so powerful that it was designed specifically to fight and kill off large dragons. As the need for it faded over time, so did the knowledge to use it, and now only a few particularly elderly individuals still know how to use it…

Many thousands of years ago, Western dragons used to exist in Soul Rune Cier. These were the dragons that you know from fairytales - they would raze villages, kidnap princesses, steal and hoard treasure and kill all who tried to stop them. The people of the time - the stickmen - declared war on these dragons, seeking them out in droves to eradicate and fend off the menace.

At the time, dragons existed in much larger forms than they can take today. Some stood as tall as kaiju, thriving off of the powerful life mana flowing through the planet to keep their massive forms alive. Purifying Light, the most treasured of magic in modern times, coursed through their bodies and eradicated darkness and evil wherever they stepped. These dragons were known as the King Elder Dragons, a step above the Great Elder Dragons that walk Cier today.

One of said King Elder Dragons was Mustora, who turned the tides of the war and singlehandedly wiped the planet of the western dragons, razing the lands and eradicating nearly 40% of organic life that existed on Cier with her Purifying Light.

The People feared and revered Mustora for her great power and efficiency, for she had ended the war but at a great cost to all life. This eradication happened on the eastern continent of Cier, in what is now the country of Magmus, and the Dead Forest. The eradication of all life decimated the ecosystem, leaving room for nightmarish atrocities to rise from the waste and form their own growing hellish landscape, preventing any human or dragon life from reasonably making a home back where the war had ended.

Deep underground and underwater in the Boiling Range are artifacts of what little was left of the great human-dragon civilization that existed before the war, though no archaeologist has ever gotten access to it.

Mustora is now suspected to hibernate in the eye of the Boiling Range, where only the most unhinged and inane people will risk their lives and their livelihoods to explore.

As for what else happened after the Great Dragon War, with no home left to go to and many humans still on edge from the recent war, roughly 90% of the remaining dragon life moved underground to Daskcha, the Mother Land of the dragons. Human civilization exploded on the western continent, with very few large colonies still existing or being made by settlers on the eastern continent; it is suspected there is a hidden icy city still remaining in Neira, but otherwise the biggest settlements on the eastern continent are towns with no more than 30,000 residents each and the Filokensia National Park which is home to thousands of creatures and people including endangered dragons.

All in all, with all this in mind, I'd consider SRC post apocalyptic and still recovering from the devastation that came with the great dragon war. Nature is still recovering, and so is humanity; their numbers were much greater before the war, and I'd say SRC has about 1/3 or 1/4 as many humans as we do on Earth. 40% of Cierian humans live in the Southwestern States.

[prurientpuddlejumper]

Don’t Look! [Part 4]

<- Part 3 | Part 5 ->

Frederick Chilton x Reader

@we-are-all-just-a-bit-crazy’s lovecraftian horror AU, with a bit of my own twist on the origin story. Emotional hurt/comfort. Body horror. Hugging your body-horror monster boyfriend. 

3,386 words

Once upon a time, there lived a man who had everything: great wealth (built on the backs of exploited workers), a grand estate, a beautiful wife, and many mistresses waiting in the wings. Yet after years of trying, he failed to produce an heir. Determined that his money could buy anything, the man scoured the world, searching for a solution. One day, his extensive resources brought him to an ancient castle in Lithuania, where the last descendants of a noble bloodline offered him a devil’s bargain—a book, a summoning ritual. He did not ask questions. His wife was finally with child.

The Chilton legacy was secure.

The moment Frederick was born, the life was sucked from his mother—a human sacrifice for his soul crossing into this world. That was what his father told him, at least. Frederick had no memory of clawing his way through the veil between worlds, of being anything other than an ordinary child with a distant father, a young, blonde stepmother, and nannies instead of friends. Until the changes began. Allison (or was it Kayla at the time?) fainted in the living room when he staggered in, screaming as smoke boiled from his skin, begging for help. His father only wrinkled his nose with disgust and calmly explained what he was.

“You must learn to hide this, Frederick. Never let anyone see you this way, or it will destroy the family name.”

And so, he learned the transformation’s schedule. Prepared for it. Knew how to hide it away and never let anyone get close enough to see the real him. But it wasn’t good enough. Try as he might, nothing Frederick ever did met his father’s expectations for the perfect son he had gone through so much trouble to produce.

Frederick grew into a bitter and lonely man with no one to care about, or who cared about him. He kept the world at a distance, hiding his shame behind expensive suits and lavish decoration.

Never once did he consider that he was not alone in this world at all.

 ***

I see him as one of those pitiful things sometimes born in hospitals. They feed it, keep it warm, but they don’t put it on the machines. They let it die. But he doesn’t die. He looks normal. Nobody can tell what he is.

This is how Will Graham describes the Chesapeake Ripper.

Every therapy session with Graham, every conversation overhead, the puzzle became clearer. At first, Chilton merely believed that Dr. Lecter was guilty of unethical practices—manipulating Mr. Graham in the same way he had manipulated Gideon. He felt such kinship with Hannibal. Learning a bit of dirt on him brought the ever-so-superior doctor down to his level, gave him something to lord over him—a little implied blackmail to strengthen their friendship.

They both had secrets to hide.

Dr. Chilton never would have guessed the final puzzle piece to convince him fully that Hannibal was the Chesapeake Ripper would be the one everyone else laughed at.

“I brought you here to bear witness,” Graham said to Gideon through their adjoining cells.

“To tell Jack Crawford that I sat in Hannibal Lecter’s cobalt blue dining room? An ostentatious herb garden, Leda and the Swan over the fireplace. And you, having a fit in the corner.”

Chilton perked up and quickly shared the audio feed to one of the junior therapists assisting him. You were reliable at editing his audio files, clipping and exporting segments he wanted to keep, but he was avoiding you at the moment. This was proof—irrefutable proof that Gideon had met Hannibal Lecter the night he went searching for the Ripper.

After his conversation with Graham concluded, an assistant was sent down to coax more information from him while Chilton’s research team listened in, keenly taking notes.

Gideon was not finished dropping bombshells.

With a casual lilt to his voice as if talking to a friend over dinner, he began to describe the Chesapeake Ripper. Skin like volcanic ash, reflecting no light. A red glow to his eyes. Black claws as long as steak knives. Antlers breaking through the inside of his skull, punching through the skin. All black as night—a form that shifted in the shadows, ever tricking the eye, unwilling to be known.

He’s the Devil, Mr. Graham. He’s smoke.

“Great. Gideon is delusional,” one therapist snorted. “On the bright side, this completely undercuts his malpractice case against you.” She patted Chilton’s shoulder. Chilton flinched.

“We should start him on antipsychotics. What do you think? Doctor?”

Chilton’s face turned ashen white. “Y-yes, certainly,” he muttered, staggering to his feet.

He moved for the door, but crumbled halfway there, pain ripping through his leg as sharp thorns grew beneath the skin. It was daylight. No. No! The transformation should not be starting for hours—he had plenty of time! He gasped out as another shock tore through him, barely containing a cry. His body convulsed.

“Doctor!” A therapist and a guard rushed in to help him to his feet. “Where does it hurt? If this is a complication from your surgery, we need to get you into intensive care right away.”

“No,” he brushed them off. “Only… psychosomatic. I need to— ah!” He gritted his teeth, mind racing to the one person he did not want to turn to, but the only one he could, and barked, “Get my secretary!”

 ***

Smoke was rising off of his burning skin by the time you rushed into Chilton’s vacated office. His eyes were wide with panic, but greeted you when you entered with—not relief, perhaps, because he was every bit as terrified as before, but with the anticipation of being rescued. His eyes pleaded.

“H-help. I cannot make it stop.”

You managed to get him into your car. The sun’s orange rays seemed to chase the beast away, clearing his skin and stopping his wracking convulsions long enough to cross the employee parking lot without drawing stares. He insisted on taking the back seat so he could hide—and to put more distance between you in case he lost control.

His chest rose and fell like a rabbit in a cat’s mouth.

“The way he described Dr. Lecter—anyone would think it was a metaphor! That he was crazy!” Chilton’s breath was raspy as you drove, glancing back at him through the rearview mirror. He kept trembling, small patches of scaly skin appearing at random then swirling back inside. One pupil was a pinprick. His tongue occasionally became serpentine and got in the way as he frantically spoke. “But it was too specific, the details. Familiar. I always knew there was a connection between Dr. Lecter and me—a reason we were friends. It all makes sense now!”

“Hey, it’s OK,” you said, trying to sound soothing, though you had no idea what he was talking about.

“Don’t you understand? Lecter is like me!”

“That’s good, isn’t it? That means you’re not alone.”

“Hannibal Lecter is the Chesapeake Ripper!” he shouted, and a spine tore through a seat cushion. “A cannibal, if Will Graham is to be believed, and loathe as I am to admit it, Graham is an excellent profiler. If the Ripper and I are the same… then that means I—”

“You are nothing like that!” Forgetting the damage his demonic tantrum was doing to your faux-leather interior, you had faith in him. He was a little withdrawn and more than a little vain, and it had garnered him an icy reputation around the hospital, but now you understood why. He wasn’t evil or malicious. He was frightened.

“God help me,” he murmured.

 ***

As soon as the garage door closed behind you, he scrambled from the car (scratching the handle), and retreated inside. He didn’t invite you to follow him home. But he didn’t forbid it, either, and you wanted to be there. All you had were panic-scrambled memories from the first time that made his transformation worse in hindsight than it was. Or maybe better. You didn’t know, and you wouldn’t know until you saw it again with clear eyes.

The electric kettle rumbled on its stand, hissing steam as you searched through Frederick Chilton’s surprisingly extensive tea collection for something herbal and soothing. Chamomile, you thought. With honey. Surely that must be good for demon-monster-werewolf things?

The sun was about to set and he was still reeling over Hannibal, and just as much from the premature transformation the revelation had triggered. And every time he cried, “This is not possible. How can this be possible?” the next convulsion was more intense.

He would probably just burn himself on tea.

A painful whimper came from somewhere in the house, and you followed it to a tiny panic room that opened behind a bookshelf. It was only about seven by nine feet with concrete walls and floors, bare except for deep scratches of varying age, like an animal trying to escape. The few chairs inside were metal. Difficult to break. Frederick faced away from you, staring at a hand that was too large for the rest of his body, capped with long black claws.

“Oh no, this will not do at all,” you tutted, shaking your head at the barren space. “How about I bring in some blankets? Let’s get you comfortable.”

His whole body shook. “You should go.”

“No. No way, not after seeing this prison cell. I am not leaving you like this.”

“I do not want to hurt you.” His shoulder jerked. A spike tore through his shirt.

“You won’t.”

“Seeing it again… will not be therapeutic for you,” he hissed, another spike breaking through. “Go before it is too late.”

“No!”

“Damn it! I am a monster—there is proof of that now! The FBI has no idea what it is dealing with!” Chilton began to pace the small cell, thoughts racing, features morphing into something grotesque and alien. “Does Hannibal know about me? Can he sense it? Is that why he confided in me? I always thought it was professional respect—hah! God, what if he…” A painful convulsion halted his pacing and brought him to one knee, gripping his side. His attention snapped back to you. “This is… dangerous,” he warned, then hacked violently. Fleshy, snake-like projections spewed from his mouth, and he quickly turned away again, hiding his face. “You should… you should be nowhere near all of this! You should not be here! Why did I let you inside?!”

A roar of anguish ripped through the air with enough force to push you back through the panic room door, just in time to avoid being impaled on half a dozen spines as they shot from Chilton’s body like lances. Chips of concrete clattered to the ground as they penetrated the walls. He screamed again, writhing to get free, but found himself trapped by his own violent transformation. Like an animal, he struggled and clawed at himself as if his rational mind had been overtaken by raw, volatile emotion.

“Take it easy. You’re going to hurt yourself,” you tried to calm him, but you couldn’t stop your voice from shaking.

This was worse than last time. You were sure his spines weren’t half as long when you saw him in his office—even Chilton seemed surprised to be pinned.

You lifted your hands, palms toward him in a steadying gesture, and took a step back into the concrete room.

“Stay back!” he howled, thrashing. “Get away!”

It was tempting. Every muscle in your body wanted to follow his advice and run far away from the indescribable horror before you. But his eyes were still green. Were still terrified. And you had an inkling of why it was worse this time. Maybe he would hate you later for imposing, but it seemed more important right now not to leave him feeling… like a monster.

“It’s OK.” You took another step closer.

“No!”

“You’re not going to hurt me. I trust you. Shh, shh… I’m not afraid, see?”

Rigid spines sprayed from his back and shoulders in a 180-degree arc, leaving only his front accessible. You ducked under one and followed its trajectory to where it met the wall. It wasn’t just pinned by pressure—it had struck the wall with enough force to dig into it like an iron rod. Sawing through might be the only option for getting him unstuck. You wondered if that would hurt. Were there nerves in his spines? You stepped over the next one as you drew nearer.

“You should be afraid! I am just like him!” Chilton tried to turn his head away as you traversed his network of thorns and stood in front of him.

His face was almost entirely inhuman. Tentacles cascaded down from where a nose should have been, and when he opened his mouth in a snarl, they parted like wriggling eels—each with a life of its own—to reveal a jaw that split his face open vertically, crowded with rows of sharp white teeth. The more agitated Chilton became, the more dramatic the effect. Each time he spoke, you caught a flash of teeth that sent shivers racing down your spine. But you continued to move closer anyway, within snapping range.

“Hannibal and I… we are the same. Please—I do not want to become him. Do not let me hurt you!”

“You are not the same. You’re not a killer.”

Chilton let out a choking cry that was all too human. “I killed that nurse,” he said. Concrete groaned as his spines grew longer. A crooked horn sprouted from his head. “I killed Elizabeth Shell.”

“You… you didn’t kill her.”

His breath quickened again. Tentacles sprouted and died and resprouted from his face in a constant fevered motion. “I knew Gideon would kill! I lowered security! I knew what would happen—what I needed to happen to prove that he was the Ripper! I may as well have plucked her eyes out with my own hands and… and feasted on her organs. God… I am the Ripper,” he wailed.

“No…” It never occurred to you that Dr. Chilton would have done such a thing knowingly. Maybe there was something dark inside him that this creature was reflecting. It hurt to acknowledge, and yet maybe you both needed to. “You made a mistake. You did a bad thing, but… Gideon was already a killer. It wasn’t your fault.”

“I drove him to it, manipulated him… I am just as responsible as he is. I am a monster.”

“A monster wouldn’t feel this guilty! You made a mistake, but you won’t make it again, will you?”

Tentacles and spines stopped sprouting. His form stabilized as his wet eyes looked off thoughtfully. He seemed so pathetic… so innocent, almost. Despite the intimating spines and claws that added danger and height to his appearance, his body had the same mass—leaving his frame gaunt and frail, with ribs sticking out prominently. Hollow.

You wanted to protect him.

You knew that was your job at BSHCI. You knew that was why Dr. Chilton suddenly needed a personal secretary when he never had before. Someone to sit outside his door, take his calls, and warn him when visitors wanted to see him. You’d never met the doctor before he was attacked by one of his patients, but you recognized the signs of trauma—the way he flinched easily, avoided contact at first, then the way he clung to you when you earned his trust. The awkward little smiles. The way his cheeks turned bright red when his fingers brushed yours as you delivered his coffee. You couldn’t help feeling protective. Falling in love, even.

Though it was closed for the moment, his mouth was a dangerous black hole with alien arms ready to pull prey inside. It seemed impossible to get close without being dragged into its teeth by instinct. You couldn’t imagine putting your face anywhere near it.

Another step, and your forehead touched his.

“I... I do not want to hurt you,” he pleaded.

“You won’t.”

You leaned into his arms, a hand reaching up to stroke the side of his face. It was covered in fine scales that glistened as if they should be slimy, but were smooth to the touch, like a snake. Sharper thorns sprouting from his skin seemed to retreat before your caress.

He trembled with inner turmoil, hot breath puffing against your chin. Your eyes darted toward the motion of one of his claws rising behind you, and all you could focus on were the way each sharp talon caught the light. You couldn’t be sure what he was thinking—if he was going to return your embrace, or prove to you that he was a monster. Would he slash you just to drive you away?

“I smell your fear,” his voice hissed accusingly.

For some reason, of all the reactions you could have had, you started to laugh. It was nervous and tight at first, but then building in confidence at the ridiculousness of the situation.

“You’ve got giant claws! Of course I’m afraid! But I’m not running, am I?”

You slid your hand from his cheek and trailed it over his bony neck and the ridges and spines of his shoulders, finding a path for your arms to twine around him. Cuddling closer, you nuzzled into the crook of his neck, hardly bothered by the writhing tentacles that draped down over you.

“I know you would never hurt me. You’re just going to have to keep showing me there’s nothing to be afraid of.”

Shuddering, he breathed in your scent. All his senses were heightened by this form, and he was surrounded by you—your pheromones, your electric field, the radiant heat of your skin. It was like sinking into a warm bath with a glass of fine wine in his hand. He opened his palm and let his predator’s hand sweep harmlessly down your back, holding you close. He could sense the fluttering of your heart in his embrace. It was slower than a creature in terror—slowing the longer he held you. You were not afraid. And he could not imagine hurting you. Whatever he had been worried might happen, whatever awful things he might be capable of, he could never imagine hurting you. You were right. You didn’t have anything to fear.

He exhaled a long, steady breath of surrender. The long spines retracted, pulling out of the walls as they returned to their usual size. He could move again, but didn’t. Not for a long time.

“It’s OK. It’s OK,” you sighed. The scent of your hair was intoxicating.

Eventually, you had to part. Chilton’s eyes darted away as you did—the inky scales on his face emitted a soft bluish starlight, which you were certain was blushing. You could not coax him to leave his concrete prison cell, but he told you where to find some blankets he could live with damaging—linen closet, second floor, third door on the right—and let you make a cozy nest on the bare floors. You made tea, and only cringed a little at his attempts to drink it. It was late, then. You were sleepy, and he was exhausted. Emotionally drained. His mind still raced over everything, still not certain of your presence and inexplicable kindness. You sat in the pile of blankets and had him rest his head in your lap.

“Give me your hand,” you asked, extending yours.

A clawed, scaly hand slid tentatively along the floor. You took it. Held it gently, first observing the long talons protruding like daggers from each finger before slotting yours between them—nothing sharp there. You let out a long sigh and leaned back against the concrete wall. His breath hitched.

He’d never had his hand held in this form, you assumed.

He’d never had his hand held at all, in fact. Not in many years.

It had to be a trap, he thought. No one had ever loved him before. No one could—not like this. Yet, as he fell asleep to your fingers massaging his temple and the soft murmuring of your voice, he let himself believe it. You were always there, protecting him. Smiling at him in the morning.

When you woke up, Frederick was human again, still fast asleep in your arms.

[cm-top-10]

C.M. Top 10: Most Dark & Gore Scenes &/or Characters in Cartoon Series

Warning: The following top ten may contain possible spoilers for those who haven't seen newer series. This post may also contain forms of graphic violence & some gore scenes that maybe too much for you to witness. So for your safety & others do not look unless it's at your own risk.

You've been warned...

We all discover at some point in time that not everything you know is allover the rainbow. Most times we see things we can't unsee or learn dark secrets of someone you thought you knew your whole life. & sometimes we learn things the hard way. Or the messed up dark way...

So for this 1st dark Top 10 features the most characters with a dark histories, secrets or just straight up dark/gore scenes. Which character did you not expect to have a dark side? Sadly you be the judge...

1. Invincible - Omni Man beating his son to a pulp.

After learning the dark truth that was revealed to Mark about his father's true intentions. Nolan tells his son the truth about why he was sent to Earth & why he killed the Guardians.

Telling him the reasons why he's here was so he could eliminate any potential threat to the Viltrum Empire. & that he was raising his son not out of responsibility or heroics, but to have him as a bred soldier of the Empire to kill anyone who stood in their way.

& he wanted Mark to join their cause with him.

After Mark angrily refused to help him conquer the planet. Nolan nearly beats the life out of his own son & yells to the top of his lungs saying how pointless it is to protect his home world. While killing millions of innocent people in the process of their brutal fight.

However before he could finish him off, Nolan suddenly realized what he did to his own child & fled the Earth in machspeed, shedding a tear.

They say fatherhood is complicated, but not like this...

2. Castlevania Lords of Shadow - Gabriel's dark fate

While on his journey to slay all three of the Lords of Shadow. Gabriel slowly learned they were the founders of the Order & told him the truth of his order's true intention from each Shadow Lord who too were being used by the Brotherhood of Light. Then when he finally reached the final Lord of Shadow, he learned about his wife's death & fell into dark despair.

Over time his heart grew darkened. & knew nothing but bitterness & sorrow...

But after defeating the three Lords, Laura appears to tell Gabriel that he awakened another ancient evil known as the Forgotten One. Who had plans to destroy all creation & they had to venture to the Brotherhood's fortress to find the entrance to where he was imprisoned.

However only dark begins can enter the realm. & the only way he can bypass it's effects & to defeat this ancient evil, was to become one himself...

So Laura asked him to drink her blood & free her of her torment. Hesitant at first he did what was asked of her & dranked every last drop of her blood, until she died.

He then defeated the Forgotten One & saved mankind. But at a cost of his soul & happiness.

Thus becoming a vampire.

A vampire the world would soon know & fear as Dracul the Dragon.

But that is another story...

3. Baki the Grappler - Yujiro Hanma

As most know Yujiro is the world's most unstoppable & cruelest warrior in the history of fighters. Not even the U.S. Military dares to go near him. Yes Yujiro the Orge has struck fear into many people, even military personnel of different countries. & he did it with no weapons & has turned the U.S. into his personal playground for death & battles.

But the most cruelest thing he's done was ripping the face of one of China's most respected Kaioh masters while facing him in battle, testing his worthiness. The reason Yujiro did this challenge was not to prove his worth but to show all of China & their leaders that they are worthless to him. & showed them all that he doesn't care about their hatred towards Japan noir their worthiness.

& he struck that fear into all who witnessed Ryu Kaioh getting defaced & brutally defeated. Yes this is one man who's definitely going to hell & is going to smile about it.

Because Satan himself would be pissing his buttflap in his sights in fear. While Yujiro fucks his succubus wife in front of his face knowing how little fucks he gives about his "sins."

4. Primal - Sauropod Massacre

After being infected by the Zombie Virus. The infected sauropod becomes a mad rouge & slaughters it's own herd in a bloody rage & massacre.

It left no survivors, ripped them apart & destroyed many of the herds' eggs leaving nothing remaining...

Truly whatever zombie virus this was it drove this poor creature mad & didn't stop until everything wasn't breathing.

Luckily Spear & Fang were able to run it into a dormant volcano. Where the infected dinosaur burnt to ash.

Hopefully now the poor beast is at peace...

5. Star Wars Rebels - Master Luminara's remains

In the search for Luminara to replace Kanan to be Ezra's new master. They soon learned too late that her remains were being used to lure any surviving Jedi out of hiding. So that any Sith Hunters like the Grand Inquisitor would slay them on the spot.

Sadly no one knows whatever happened to her corpse after they escaped. Or if the Empire even still has her.

Rest in peace Luminara wherever you are...

6. Legend of Tarzan - Death of Clayton

While battling in the trees, Tarzan defeated Clayton by tangling him into the jungle vines. But during his blind rage he angrily swiped vine after vine, until one wrapped his neck. Tarzan tried his best to warn him, but in his rage Claton cuts the vine that he was holding on to.

Then after it broke they both plummet to the ground. Tarzan landed safely, Clayton however was hung from above by one of the vines wrapped around his neck after it snapped it straight out from the fall.

There truly are things worse than fate...

7. RWBY - the Death of Adam Taurus

After weeks of stalking Blake & her group. Blake had no choice but to confront Adam for the last time with the help of Yang. The battle was harsh, but in the end they managed to out-think him by stabbing him from different sides. One in his chest & one in the back.

He then fell to his death over a huge waterfall after hitting his head over a ledge before plummeting into the water. Hopefully they've finally seen the last of Adam Taurus.

But let's also hope he doesn't pull a Cinder...

8. TFP Beast Hunters - Predaking beats the scrap out of Ratchet

After using Ratchet to wipe out mankind. The Decepticons threw him into the frails of a vengeful Predaking. Predaking then beats & claws Ratchet, throwing him around like a rag-doll. Until he was ready to finish him off, luckily Ratchet convinced him to hear him out. & told Predaking the truth about what had happened to his Predacon army.

After he told Predaking that it was Megatron who ordered his race's extermination. He asks why he did so & Ratchet replys--

Ratchet: Being on the receiving end of your might. One theory springs to mind, Megatron fears you & any like you.

In his blind rage Predaking stormed his way to Megatron, wiping out anyone who stood in his way.

Which led to his own demise, but that is a story for another time...

9. JoJo's Bizarre Adventure - Stealy Joe gets his ass beat by Jotaro

Now this slimy bastard got what he deserves. Not only did he try to humiliate & blackmail Jotaro into doing his bidding. This cocky motherfucker goes & threatens a random little girl out of the blue. If Jotaro didn't face him like a man & does what he says.

With him up to here with the man's assholeness, our boi Jotaro decided enough is enough & beats the ever loving shit out of this guy. & after punching him multiple times, he literally sends him flying into a wall & throws him his receipt.

Rest in Hell, Joe you worthless bastard!

10. The Falcon Captain America & The Winter Soldier - Captain America U.S. Agent gets his arm broken.

John Walker the former Captain America was given a mantle he wasn't worthy of. Don't get me wrong as much as I had my doubts of him, I was willing to give him a benefit of a doubt. That is until he soiled Steve's good name by using his shield to kill a man in cold blood.

During his blind rage of vengeance, he chased down one of the Flag Smashers & constantly beats him over-&-over with the shield. & then kills him with a fatal blow to the chest area in front of tons of people.

After he murdered one of the perps, Falcon & Bucky tried to ask him to hand over the shield peacefully...

You can take a wild guess what Walker's answer was. He then attacked them with rage & ego, losing his shit. However that ego died as soon as Falcon & Buck breaks his arm to get the shield back. He was then discharged by the U.S. government & was relieved of his duties as Captain America.

Not only that but he then found his way into a dark path he may not be able to uncross.

But that part is another story for another time.

Either way he got dealt some shitty karma.

[imagine-it-to-be-true]

Fix You - Caius Volturi x FemOC Three Shot: Part 2

Hey guys! So, originally, this story was supposed to be a One-shot. But because of the overwhelming amount of requests I’ve received (thank you so much sweeties, by the way), I’ve decided to make it into a three parter. This is part 2, and the first part can be found on my blog. I’m not sure when I get around to writing part 3 as uni starts back up today, but I’ll try my best not to keep you in suspense for too long. This part is more centred around chaos than romance. Nothing belongs to me (including the GIF) Also, warnings: violence, blood, death.

Andromeda’s POV

The sensations were weird. First, I had been in a lot of pain around my stomach region. I could hardly breathe, let alone express my pain to the handsome-yet-creepy, blonde stranger taking care of me. Though I’m sure he knew. I mean, even I knew I was dying, and he was helpless to save me, so I didn’t bother speaking. I could see the concern in his eyes and hear his sweet whisperings as he stroked my cheeks and wiped away my tears. But these little comforts were not enough to stop the hurt. Then, when I saw him holding a huge syringe, it sent me into panic mode. I never liked needles, not to mention ones which were about to inject unfamiliar liquids into me. But he reassured me it would help, which calmed me down. Not like I could defend myself in that moment anyways. I guess it couldn’t hurt me more. It turned out he was right. After a few minutes, I noticed the pain slowly going away. Maybe it wasn’t the liquid, but the fast-approaching release of death, I wasn’t sure. My cries began to slow, and I could feel more pleasant sensations, such as the pale man stroking my hand with his thumb, gently massaging circles into it. Then, he asked,

“What is your name, omorfiá mou?”

Gasping for air, I attempted to speak,

“Andromeda,” came my whispered reply. With my half-opened eyes, I was able to see his perfect lips draw up in a smile. Focusing on his features, I didn’t even realize that my pain was entirely gone, and I was feeling rather loopy. I watched the man bend down closer to me, brushing my hair back and running his ice-cold knuckles down the side of my neck. Suddenly I felt a sense of vulnerability. I felt his cool breath hitting my ear as he whispered,

“Do not be afraid. You will live forever. You are mine now, and I will never let anything hurt you again.” I was confused and fear began to resurface. I had gotten away from one creep, only to be taken by another. This man scared me to my core. But before I could dwell on my thoughts, I saw him quickly lean down towards my neck, as if he was about to kiss me. That was not what happened.

Indeed, I momentarily felt his cool lips touch the sensitive skin of my neck. But then a sharp pain erupted. Whatever it was that he injected into me was definitely helping. I was aching again, though differently this time. It was a dull, electrifying, fiery sensation, which immediately spread from my neck to my brain, and all the way down to the tips of my toes. My body was on fire, but it was not as intense. If one were to be scratched over and over and over again, pain would increase. This was what I was going through. It was continuous and that was making it worse. An hour had passed, then two, then I lost count. I couldn’t see anything anymore, my vision clouded. Yet I could still hear him. He never seemed to leave. Others would come and go. Time would pass and I would feel needles in my arms. I assume he kept injecting me with whatever it was, which managed my pain; probably morphine. I learned his name was Caius from others who had come in and spoken to him. Caius. What an unusual name. But it fit him.

He had injected so much morphine into me that the dull burning sensation eventually stopped. That, or perhaps I adjusted to it. I could not tell how much time had passed, but by now, it had been a while, for sure. I had given up. If it were not for his constant voice, and feeling of his icy hands touching my own, I would have believed I passed on. But eventually, my vision slowly began to return. I hadn’t felt injections in hours, and no pain returned, which was strange.

The entire time I lay there, presumably dying, I thought of my life. Who would miss me? I had no parents. Both died in a car crash when I was 12. I was in the back seat and miraculously survived. Given no time to adjust to the tragedy, I was immediately placed in a foster home in New Haven, where I experienced endless amounts of bullying. But as with all foster children, my stay was temporary. For the next five years, I bounced from one home to the next. This made me reserved, quiet, and untrusting. I was socially awkward and had very few friends. My main comforts came from the company of animals. Truthfully, I got used to this solitary existence, finding that I expressed myself better through storytelling than the spoken word. In fact, my unfortunate childhood did not impact my standing at school. I was always a good student, and this landed me a fully paid scholarship to NYU where I completed a double degree in journalism and history. The lack of family and friends allowed me to dedicate all my time to my studies and work, which was conducting research for my professor. Then, after graduating, I decided to make a drastic change and start fresh with a move to Europe. For the last two years, I had spent my time travelling several countries and writing articles on historical artifacts, buildings, and churches. I sold my stories to networks as a freelance historical journalist, living alone and moving often from place to place. In fact, Volterra was my last stop in Europe before I planned to relocate to Egypt and focus on Pharaonic history there. Not many of Volterra’s tourists knew about the building I had been photographing, which was off the main street and down an alleyway. It was not glamorous, but historic, which drove me to it. That is where I was and what I was doing when I was suddenly grabbed and dragged into a dark alleyway.

My life had been flashing before my eyes over and over again. I wanted to live. To do better. To be better. I was sick of being alone. So, when my vision began returning, I was filled with motivation to live. Really live. Finally, I could focus my eyes. I stared up at what appeared to be a bed canopy. It was velvet, and dark red in color. To my right, I could sense the smell of burning candles. It was so prominent that it made my nose burn. My hands were balled into fists, grasping the cotton sheets and I could see that I ripped holes in them. How much pain was I in that I ripped a bedsheet with my bare hands? I then noticed something strange. I was not breathing. Since when was I not breathing? This frightened me immensely, and I bolted into an upright sitting position. As I did, the bed violently shook. The canopy swayed as if it would collapse at any second. Did I do this? I’m a weak little girl who couldn’t even fight off a drunk man in an alleyway, how was I doing all this? I heard a sound to my left and immediately snapped my head towards the source. It was a young woman – girl more like it – that I did not recognize. She had strange red eyes, much like my rescuer. But she frightened me more than him. There was a certain evil surrounding her, I could sense it. How, I did not know. All I knew was that she did not wish me well.

“Hello, Andromeda.” She spoke coolly.

I looked at her, suspicion and confusion painted over my face.

“H-how do you know my name?”

“Master Caius told me.”

‘Master?’ that sounded strange. Not something a girl would call a man. What was this, a sex trafficking operation? Before I could speak, she continued.

“He has been by your side. He will return any minute now. He went out hunting for you.” She spoke like an information-giving robot: just spewing facts, unmoving, her expression unchanging.

I closed my eyes and shook my head. “Hunting… that’s not necessary. I- I don’t eat meat.” Her expression finally changed. Her smirk transformed into a creepy smile, and she let out a laugh.

“Believe me, dear girl. It is not exactly meat he will be returning with.” She turned on her heels and stormed out of the room. Two guards opened the bedroom door for her and shut it as she left. So, they have my room guarded. I guess they aren’t going to let me leave.

I was not in a hurry; I needed to see Caius. Thank him. And ask him how he was able to fix me. Was I remembering correctly that he bit me?! What a strange thing to do. I looked down on my stomach, which was completely injury-free. Then, I reached my hand to the back of my neck, trying to feel any bitemarks there. Nothing. What the hell? I did not understand. I had a lot of questions and needed answers, the most pressing of which was why my throat was on fire. I would have asked the girl, but something in me yelled to keep my distance from her; that she was dangerous. Slowly, I stood up from the bed, noticing that the white dress I had on when I was shot was no longer on me. Instead, I wore a soft, white nightgown, with lace on the collar. It seemed like a typical garment from Tudor England, or something. It was unlike anything I had seen in any mall or shop. Come to think of it, the entire room had a historic, gothic feel to it. The décor resembled a royal palace.

My feet hit the marble floor and I began walking around the room, making my way to the bookshelf. There, a massive assortment of books awaited. However, they were not the typical books one would find in a normal home. These were all historic and ancient. I picked up a copy of the Iliad. Looking at the bindings, I could tell the book was old. More interestingly, it was still written in Homeric Greek – not a language many would be able to read. Whoever this belongs to was most definitely smart.

Suddenly, I felt the burning in my throat worsen. The sensation intensified to the point where I was nearly panicking. Ready to run for the doors and ask the guards for help, I heard footsteps approaching.

The door swung open, and the man… Caius walked in. No longer dying, I could properly admire his features. He looked perfect, truly. Not a single flaw on his face or skin. His nearly white, blonde hair carefully combed back behind his ears. He moved towards where I was sat in an armchair and knelt in front of me. Immediately, I was filled with a calmness. It was like I was home. I cannot describe it completely, but it was as if all problems were erased, and I was safe. This was the second time I managed to judge a person based on feelings, all within the last few minutes. First with the young woman from earlier, and now Caius. Before he could speak, the feeling was gone, and replaced once again with unease and danger, as I watched the young woman reappear, dragging a man by his wrist. Behind her, the guards entered the room and stood on either side of the man. I could feel that he was not dangerous, as the fear was practically radiating off him. The woman stepped behind him and gave him a push towards me.

“Dinner,” she stated coldly. I looked from her to the frightened man, to Caius. I could see annoyance on his face, as he turned to her and spoke.

“Must you, Jane? Do you not know of patience?”

“Forgive me, Master Caius. You were not one to show patience often, and I do learn from you.” She stated simply.

When Caius turned to me, I was grasping my throat, which was burning almost unbearably. “What is happening?!” I choked out.

“I know this will not make sense to you right now, and I will explain everything, I promise. But the only thing that will stop the ache is if you drink blood. You need to drink this man’s blood.” Caius whispered to me, out of earshot of the poor man.

I froze and looked at him with wide eyes, face in complete and utter shock.

“WHAT?! What did you just say?!” I exclaimed, not believing what I heard.

He sighed and leaned in once again, whispering. “In order to save your life from your injuries, I was forced to turn you into a vampire. You need blood, and you need it now. Trust me.” He tried again.

“I WILL NOT! ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND?!” Hastily standing, I pushed him away. My intention was to give him a normal, hard push so that he gets the message. But nothing prepared me for what happened. When I pushed him, he went flying across the room and hitting a marble column, which shattered on impact. Immediately, the room was filled with noise and dust as the column went crashing down around him. I pushed myself into the corner of the room and watched in terror. That impact would have killed an elephant. Yet Caius, simply rose, brushing dust off his blazer and pants. The evil woman – Jane as he called her – appeared emotionless as she turned her attention from Caius to me.

“Fine. More for us then,” she said. What followed, was simply too much for me to handle.

First, I heard Caius yelling, “Jane, NO!” In one swift motion, she tore the frightened man’s throat with her teeth. Blood gushed out from the wound, spilling all over the white marble floor. I screamed in terror. But what was even more terrifying than the poor man’s death, was the smell of his blood. It was driving me crazy. It was like nothing I had ever experienced it. I craved it. Needed it. And was so close to taking it all for myself. But with any remaining strength I had left, I stopped myself. This was not me. I was a vegetarian because I cared for the well-being of animals. There was not a thing in the world which would force me to do anything to harm another living soul. So, I curled up in a ball in my corner and rocked back and forth, trying to focus my senses on anything other than the delicious smell of blood.

“I will deal with you later. Take him and leave, now!” I heard Caius’ voice. “You are not to come here again; you are not to see her! Now go!”

“Yes, Master Caius.” I heard her disgusting, venomous voice once again as she left. The doors closed and the room was filled with silence.

I momentarily thought Caius left too, but then I felt the sensation of safety return to me.

“How did I do that?” I ask with a shaking voice.

“You are a new vampire. For the first few weeks, you will be stronger than the rest of us. This will pass, and you will adjust.” He said gently.

I continued hugging my knees and rocking. Caius continued.

“This is not how a newborn should experience the first moments. But Andromeda…” he hesitated, “You need to feed. If you do not, it will only get worse. Your awareness will seize to function, and you will eventually kill more than you would have otherwise.”

With no response from me, Caius reached for my hands, placing his own over them. This woke a rage inside of me. I grasped his wrists and pushed him backwards. His back hit the wall, not as hard this time. I began speaking.

“You did this to me. You made me this… this… monster. This is on you. You should have let me die. Now, because of your selfish need for heroism, I will murder countless others.”

We both rose to our feet. He gently approached me again, saying my name, but I held my hand up to block him. “Get out. I don’t ever want to see you again. I hate you.”

With that, I pushed him towards the direction of the door. He paused,

“Andromeda-”

“GET OUT!” I picked up a glass vase and threw it in his direction, and he finally left. I sat down on the cold marble tiles, pressing my back against the wall, and screamed in agony.

[ceradenja]

Magolor backstory

Heads up I'm very much pulling stuff out of my hat, it's just how I've filled the gaps and put the pieces together. Also contains Taranzolor a little at the end.

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Halcandra starts off as a mostly volcanic area. The largest civilization are knowns as Halcandrans, a highly magical species. The biggest cities reside in Egg Engines, which isn't nearly as highly-mechanized as it is nowdays. A lot of the mechanics work off of Magic.

Magolor is born around 15 years before the events of RTDL. He's a feisty little kid, with a competitive attitude and a love for pranks. He's not a bad kid, though he is a bit of a compulsive liar in order to protect himself.

Some time after, Haltmann Works Company begin the Mechanizing Occupation Project. They work slow at first, due to the extreme heat of Halcandra, so they make false promises and keep on the good side of the Halcandrans. The project divides the people in two groups; those who welcome the mechanizing and those who do not. Magolor grows up to be very interested in science and mechanics, hence gaining knowledge of ancient mechanical artifacts and how to work them. One day he meets a traveler from afar. The jester introduces himself as Marx, and Magolor is very intriqued by his stories about Dreamland, and Kirby. He decides he wants to meet Kirby someday. Marx departs, hoping that they could meet again some day.

Eventually as HWC adapts their hardware to the climate, they ramp up the mechanization. Now threathening the dwindling amount of defiant Halcandrans to comply with their wishes or be mechanized themselves. Magolor, thrown into his studies learns to distrust the company and wants them to stop what they're doing to his planet. He is frustrated that their "so called Guardian" Landia isn't doing anything to stop the invaders, so he conjures up his own plan.

He steals the ancient warship Lor Starcutter he'd always admired, and readies it against Landia to obtain the Master Crown for himself. He hopes that with it's power, he can drive away HWC from his planet and return things to how they used to be. Things don't turn out how he'd like them to, and Landia swiftly shoots down the ship. Magolor makes his escape into Dreamland, and quickly spins Kirby a story about the "evil dragon". He had a plan to escape into Dreamland if things turned south, but hadn't prepared to recruit the help of Kirby and his friends. His words surprise even himself. He doesn't know it yet, but the Master Crown has imprinted it's call onto him. Driving him towards itself, and slowly corrupting his drive.

Meanwhile on Halcandra Landia, now awake and furious, drives not only the invading HWC from the planet but also the Halcandrans due to one of them daring to defy her authority. After her rampage, Halcandra is left in it's current state. Halfway between mechanized and natural and mostly deserted.

Once Magolor returns to Halcandra with Kirby and co. in tow, he is faced with a far more quiet planet than before. He stays back in in the Starcutter, not only for fear of Landia, but also to reflect. Coming so much closer to the Crown makes it wrap it's hold tighter onto him. He wants revenge. Landia has destroyed his home, and evicted his people. This wouldn't have happened if he had the Crown. He could have saved Halcandra. If he was in power nothing like this would have happened here. So he urges Kirby to continue on. Defeat Landia, get the Crown.

Landia is beat and Magolor obtains the crown, which further twists his intentions. Fueled by his loss of his people and his home, he claims ownership over everything. The Master Crown's explosive power transforms his body to resemble what an old, powerful and awakened Halcandran would look like.

After failing to take Kirby down with the Starcutter, he fights Kirby himself. After one final blow, he falls unconcious. The Master Crown finally takes full control. It digs it's claws further into his head and transforms him into it's own twisted image. Kirby fights once more, and the crown's power is neutralized, for now. Magolor is shifted back into his usual self, before the crown seemingly breaks.

He is teleported into the Lor Starcutter, who has taken control of herself, and is saved from the collapsing dimension. He remains unconsious for days, the Crown having drained all magic from his body. Once he wakes, he can do nothing more than speak. Even moving his hands uses magical energy, so he rests, shifting between unnerving sleep and wakefulness. Lor lectures him over his terrible desicions, but also offers sympathy. She knows about the Crown's terrible power and knows that while Magolor made the initial reach for it, allowing it to corrupt his mind, he was powerless to stop himself once the Crown's seed was implanted. Magolor realizes that it's his actions that drove his people off Halcandra, and expresses remorse. Lor explains that she's had sentience since the beginning, but hasn't spoken to him previously because she was watching his actions. She decided that while taking matters into his own hands was foolish and selfish, his original intentions were not evil. Thus, she decided to save him and see whether he'd learned his lesson.

Magolor took time to recover, both physically and mentally. He is left with distinct scars on his head from where the crown dug into him. He is also plagued by nightmares of the crown's vision of him and what he's caused. During this time, he also builds his bond with Lor Starcutter and gains her trust.

Once Lor Starcutter deems him ready, she pushes him to go and apologize to everyone his actions had affected. Starting with Landia herself. Magolor is anxious to do so, but Lor lets him know that Landia knows they're coming. Magolor makes it to her lair, and offers his apology. While she accepts it, she cannot yet forgive him and urges him to find a new place to call home. Magolor tells her this stopped being his home once he'd taken flight. He departs Halcandra, and makes his way to Dreamland.

Magolor feels too anxious to just walk up to Kirby and apologise, knowing his power, so he adapts a disguise and builds him a theme park. He hopes that this gift warms him up enough to accept his apology, or at least distract him enough for him to get his explanation in. Once construction is complete, he sends Kirby and his friends an invitation and waits. To his surprise, Kirby forgives him near instantly and is very happy about the park. The three other friends are more wary. They keep watch on the mage, and while he adapts a chipper attitude and plays a little dirty during races with Kirby he doesn't seem to cause real trouble. Eventually Bandee and King Dedede warm up to him too, and while Meta Knight seems to have put the events behind he still keeps a secret eye out on Magolor just to make sure he keeps in line.

Magolor adapts a semi-nomadic lifestyle for the following years. He travels dimensions to explore, see new things and hone his craft as he's decided building theme parks was quite fun actually. He returns to Dreamland pretty often though, since Kirby made him promise to come back and he cant help but to be drawn to the usually peaceful planet.

When Hyness and his priestesses arrive on Pop Star, he's once more called in by Kirby. Now given the title of Dream Friend, which is something he's extremely moved to recieve. He meets up with the rest of his "team", being Susie and Taranza. He is pretty shocked to find out Susie's connection with Haltmann, and though it first causes friction between them, they are able to work it out with some help from both Kirby and Taranza. Magolor learns truths about HWC, and how things went down when they invaded Dreamland. He wants to say they deserved it, but manages to keep his tongue to himself. He learns to appreciate Susie for what she is, and leave the past behind. While they aren't best friends, or good friends really, they can tolerate eachother.

After Void has been defeated, Magolor stays more and more in Dreamland. He still travels, but his travels grow shorter and more infrequent. In little time he stays back most of the time and learns to call Dreamland his new home.

Magolor and Taranza grow closer, as the peaceful years continue. They bond over the fact they don't feel welcome with their original home, and how they were both put in their place by Kirby. Eventually they both find themselves falling for one another. Taranza having finally gotten over the loss of Sectonia with the help of Kirby and his dream friends.

They end up dating, and as the years roll by go on to marry eachother and live happily. They adopt a stray Sphere Doomer at some point too.

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And if you read this far I honestly applaud you. Thank you very much and I hope you didn't find it terrible!

[tobesobri]

𝓦elcome to a brand new story from me that I never thought I would be posting but here we are! This chapter is very much introductory, which is like obvious being the first chapter but tbh I don’t really do a lot of introducing characters right off the bat in a descriptive way often so this was new for me! Also, I have an old taglist from a while ago when I was originally going to post this, but I don’t want to randomly tag people who may no longer be interested SO if you’d like to be included on a taglist for upcoming chapters please let me know! Thank you! 

huge massive thank you to the incredible @youresogolden-h​ for editing ❤️

Chapter One: Where Happiness Begins (5.4k)

Harry and Y/N are friends…. with benefits, but not the kinds you’re thinking of.

🥥MASTERLIST 🌃INSPO TAG 🌻ASK TAG 💃PLAYLIST 🛌

There was something very different when she woke that Saturday morning. Maybe her breath smelled a little worse than normal. Maybe the sun shined a little brighter through her curtains than it was supposed to...

Maybe there was someone in her bed who didn’t belong there. 

“Oh my god.”

Friday night was not unlike every other night that week. There was an endless bag of chips she dug her Hot Cheeto dust covered fingers into and an over-watched series on Netflix open on her laptop in front of her. And when she wasn’t distracted by Sam and Dean Winchester, she was bawling her eyes out under the comfort of her thrifted quilt, staining her poor mismatched pillowcases.

Just like any given night.

And this Friday was no different. At least not until there was a knock on her door.

By the time she dried her face, it was almost completely unnoticeable she’d just been buried in hysterics only seconds ago.

“Harry’s coming over. You want anything from the store?” Will asked, the same Will who stuck them all together in the very beginning of splitting rent on an apartment four different ways.

He was the roommate who paid the most in rent and got the biggest room with his own private bathroom. One of the two roommates who constantly had his significant other over every night to make Y/N’s miserable time even worse. Between Will and Violet’s incessant need to take over the entire living room every weekend, Y/N was bound to end up in her own room alone crying her eyes out for no apparent reason.

Then there was her third roommate, James, who never bothered her because she was lucky to catch a fleeting glimpse of him every other week.

Y/N glanced at the phone he had pressed to his cheek, assuming Harry was on the other end of the line, on hold. Just the mention of his name sucked every sad little tear back into her skull. She didn’t know why, but having Harry around always seemed to do the trick.

Even though she barely spoke a word to him over the course of the last eighteen months she’d known him.

She buried her excitement about Harry coming over and frowned, answering as if she was she couldn’t care less even though... she cared way more than she should. “No.”

And before Will could protest, she shut the door in his face and retreated back to her bed.

Not every night was spent in agonizing spirals of self-pity and dread, but it came and went. Some days were fine. She was happy by the time she went to bed at night and didn’t have nightmares or anxiety that kept her up past her self-proclaimed bedtime. Most days, she ate regularly and went about her nightly routine with a genuine smile on her face. But recently, it had all gone to shit.

And there was no explanation. There never was. She didn’t just break up with a long-term boyfriend. No one called her an ugly bitch on the train home. Her boss didn’t yell at her for the umpteenth time about her inadequacies at work.

She was just... alone. Painfully and tragically alone.

She hated how black and white it was. That she was either happy to be alive or praying for a very large rock to fall on her and end it all. There was never an in-between and it made her feel like all her emotions were made up, like she wasn’t ever truly happy or she was sad over really stupid things.

It was a fucking nightmare.

Another agonizing thirty minutes went by before she heard from Will again. Before she heard more than just her roommate's voice through the thin walls. Before she could literally feel her

brain swell with more serotonin than she’d had in a long time when it was Harry’s voice she heard.

He was like an unusual ray of sunshine. Every time he was over at their apartment, it was like he was some kind of ancient sun god warding off all the evil spirits sitting on her shoulders. Which...she knew was quite strange, but she really couldn’t--nor did she want to--fight off how he made her feel.

Even if he wasn’t an internationally famous pop-sensation, she still couldn’t put her finger on why he made her feel like sunshine and butterflies whenever he was around. Which had been quite often recently on account of his upcoming album needing desperate help from Will.

Okay. She hadn’t heard a damn thing from the album, but the conversations they had about it weren’t always good. It was delayed, apparently, and Harry was in the middle of a massive writing block that led him to an impromptu trip to Barcelona the previous week.

And so now he was back. To work on the album, and, upon Y/N’s quiet arrival into the kitchen of her shared apartment, to pig out on junk food. Will hovered over the kitchen island while they figured out which movie, among a small stack of romantic comedies, to watch first.

Once Harry noticed her, he instantly stood up straight, shoving the last bit of a Kit-Kat bar into his mouth quickly to hide it from her; as if she cared about the Harry Styles munching on chocolate and sweets.

“What’re you doing?” Y/N asked Will, even though Harry was the only one paying her any attention. She didn’t often make eye contact with him, or even speak to him at all for that matter. But Harry was used to it. He was used to her mumbling and her short phrases. The way whenever he looked at her, she always looked away.

“Pretty Woman or Notting Hill?” Will turned to her finally, holding up both DVD boxes in his hands for Y/N to choose from, completely ignoring her previous question.

“Um... I’ve never seen them.”

Will rolled his eyes and placed the Blu-Ray boxes back down on the granite countertop, “Should’ve known that. You only watch scary shit.”

It was quiet after that for a moment. A long moment of Harry awkwardly glancing between Will and Y/N. Though his glances towards her did not come easily. Just the thought of looking at her was like his body went into fight or flight mode. Fight through the nerves and the butterflies in his stomach or fly the hell out of there.

She was like an unfriendly cat who didn’t seem to like him one bit, and it drove him insane. All his attempts to have a normal conversation with her had been fruitless. She never said more than one word to him at a time. Maybe two, if she was feeling generous. He didn’t get it at all, but he got used to it. Maybe she just didn’t have any room in her life for another person and certainly not for a person like him.

“Well, I vote for Pretty Woman,” Will said, making up everyone’s minds for them, and when he glanced at the other two, they didn’t seem to care. “Pretty Woman it is then. Y/N,” Will glanced at her exclusively while he began gathering snacks and the movie, “are you watching it too?”

“Uh.. no.” She continued into the kitchen, walking behind Harry toward the fridge and making every single nerve in his body light up. He had no idea why she, of all people on the planet he’d come into contact with, made him as nervous as she did. But, here he was. Stepping out of her way and swallowing the pit in his throat when he got a whiff of her all-too-familiar coconut scented shampoo.

And that scent just about made his head spin. It took him right back to the night he’d gotten drunk off his ass after a long day of work. She’d offered her bed to him since he was too tall for their couches, and she had been up late working herself anyways. Most of the night had been forgotten, but he very distinctly remembered stuffing his face into her pillowcases and letting the scent of her shampoo completely engulf his nostrils as he fell asleep. And it took him back to the following morning where he wobbled his hungover ass to the shower and accidentally (on purpose) used her coconut scented shampoo.

And then the entire rest of the day he smelled exactly like her and hadn’t gone a single minute without thinking of her. Thinking of her soft voice and what it would feel like to hear her saying his name just once. Thinking about the way she sometimes smiled at him like maybe she didn’t hate him as much as he thought. Thinking about her hair spread over her pillowcase and tucking loose strands behind her ear while she slept peacefully beside him...

Harry was also, very, very alone.

So alone that he spent more nights at other people’s homes, particularly Will’s, than his own. Even though he had an insanely expensive house all to himself up in the gated hills of Los Angeles, it was nothing compared to being surrounded by people he cared about instead of lifeless appliances.

He blamed it on the city. It always had a way of making him feel alienated. Even if it was the city that recognized him most often, it almost made him feel even more alone than he already was. Because none of the people he met along the way really knew him. They weren’t with him at the end of the day when he broke down on the floor in his bathroom. They didn’t see the dark parts of his life where he often wished he could take it all back just to be normal again. To have normal conversations and normal relationships with people he wasn’t constantly paranoid were trying to get something out of him.

So, in a way, he understood Y/N’s unwillingness to let him in, because he did it all the time. The thing he didn’t understand was why she had any reason to worry about the people in her life. No one was out to get her money or make themselves famous off of her. But there was a reason for it anyways, and it just about killed the curious cat in his mind every time he was at her apartment and she continued to not peep a single unnecessary word to him.

By the time he and Will had settled onto their respective spots in the living room, Harry tucked back into the cushions of their armchair and Will spread out on the loveseat opposite him, Y/N had already retreated back into her bedroom with her glass of ice water.

“Think that’s the most I’ve ever heard her talk.” Harry said, while Will skipped through the outdated commercials on the DVD.

Will’s lips turned up into a very knowing grin and he nodded, “She’s always been quiet, man. I told you not to take it personally.”

“How did you get her to talk?”

That was a question Harry had never asked before out of the countless stupid ones he had in the past. The stupidest was probably when he’d first met her and then proceeded to ask Will shortly after if Y/N was mute.

Will shrugged, “I’ve known her for a long time. It’s not like she goes on and on around me either though. That’s just how she is. And she probably just doesn’t like you that much.”

Harry huffed and sat back into his chair, giving up on it. He couldn’t force her to be his friend, as much as he wanted her to be.

The movie went on without Harry because he was completely lost in his own mind, however, Will seemed to be completely enthralled with Julia Roberts. Harry just couldn’t bring himself to focus on the television screen for more than a minute at a time.

It wasn’t until he heard a door down the hall click open that he brought himself back to reality and let his eyes wander to the sound behind him as Y/N stepped quietly out from her bedroom again. He knew she was the only other roommate home tonight and, yet, he still made the mistake of looking in her direction and, fucking finally, locking eyes with her. It was brief, but it was enough to stir up the enormous pot of butterflies in his stomach again.

Without a single word, she sat on the last unoccupied piece of furniture between the both of them, Harry still in a bit of shock and Will grinning with his eyes glued to the screen.

“Changed your mind, did you?” Will asked cheekily.

“Shut up,” she mumbled back at him before reaching toward the opened bag of untouched Hershey kisses. “Can I have one of these?”

Will finally peered over at her from his spot and then glanced at Harry across the coffee table, “You’ll have to ask Harry. He brought them.”

Her hand froze and she reluctantly turned her attention toward Harry, which had been the first time since he arrived that she voluntarily looked at him. She had no fucking clue how she was going to sit there and ask Harry for one of his Hershey kisses. Or if she even wanted them desperately enough.

The question went unasked, but the look on her face said more than enough. She was already waiting for his answer. And upon seeing the look on her face, Harry couldn’t possibly find it in himself to force her to say a damn thing. So he just cleared his throat instead, “Uh, it’s alright. You can have as many as you want.”

He watched as she grabbed a couple foil sealed chocolates and settled back into the corner of her own loveseat again, never willing to admit that he’d bought them especially for her. Because it had somehow managed to become common knowledge that they were her favorite candy and while wandering the local corner market, he spotted them and thought of her. His brain at the time thought there might be some minuscule possibility that if he brought one of her favorite foods over she might eventually start to like him.

Even if that didn’t happen though, he was still reeling from that one brief moment of interaction for the entire rest of the night. Splurging on an overpriced package of cavities had been well worth it.

It wasn’t until the movie ended that both Harry and Y/N realized Will was dead asleep. That he was no longer conscious enough to use the remote resting on his chest and turn the movie off. So, after a little while of staring at the credits, Y/N stood and grabbed it, flipping the controls until she brought up regular TV channels and then eventually settled for a horror movie Harry had never seen and had no intentions to. But, if it meant he got more time with Y/N, he’d sit through just about anything she wanted to watch.

And then finally, the sugar he’d consumed got to his head.

“Do you always watch scary movies before bed?” He asked, completely lost in his daydreams and not fully realizing he’d asked her a full-blown question until it was out of his mouth. Once he came to his senses, he wanted to shove every last word back into his mouth and pretend he never said anything.

That was, until a couple silent moments went by and she finally said something. “Makes the nightmares more interesting.”

He didn’t expect her to say anything at all, and so for her to say that, he had no idea how to respond to her. Was she being... sarcastic? He didn’t even know she was capable of being funny.

So he laughed, not too loudly in case she wasn’t joking. But all his worries were relieved when she glanced at him and giggled too.

He didn’t dare bring up any of the questions floating around in his mind in fear that she’d never speak another word to him ever again once he’d finally managed to break through the walls somehow. Now that he’d made groundbreaking progress with her, there was no way he was asking her why she never talked to him or why she was so quiet. So he kept a fine-tuned filter over what words came out of his mouth.

“Does that mean you have uninteresting nightmares then?” Harry really did try his damndest to think of anything to say that would get her to keep talking, because he wasn’t done listening to her voice or hearing bits of her brain spill out. He wanted to know everything about her, from her mouth only, but he also didn’t want to get too ahead of himself.

“Only on Sundays.”

“Why Sundays?” He asked through a muffled laugh, curious as to what she was on about.

“Because then the nightmares are about showing up at work naked on Monday morning... and that’s not very interesting.”

He couldn’t help the widespread grin on his face, or the way his eyebrows furrowed at how fucking weird she actually was. And she wasn’t even that weird. She was kind of normal, but this entire time he thought she wasn’t like him at all, so seeing her say things like a normal person was... weird.

“So what kind of nightmares does watching Annabelle at...” Harry checked his watch, and went into momentary shock at the time, but also couldn’t care less because he wasn’t leaving now, “two in the morning get you?”

She smiled, and refusing to look at him, settled for planting her eyes on the television instead. “Walking into work naked on Monday morning but,” she held up a finger in anticipation and Harry smiled wider, “all my coworkers are creepy dolls.”

“Guess at that point it doesn't matter if you’re naked then.”

She thought about for a moment before giggling at what he said, “No, I guess it doesn’t.”

There was silence between them again, but it was different this time. It was peaceful. It wasn’t full of awkward tension and things Harry wished she would say. It felt like two friends hanging out and enjoying each other’s company.

“Are you sleeping here or...” She finally asked him and he wasn’t sure if that was her way of asking him to leave or not. But something about it made him feel like she was building her walls back up again.

“Oh, uh... if that’s okay. Think I’m too tired to drive.”

“Yeah, it’s fine. I just wanted to know because I can sleep in Violet’s room and you can have my bed like before. If you want.”

“Oh, um, are you sure?” Under any other circumstances, he would have said no, that the short, uncomfortable couch would be fine. That he would get over the pain in his legs and back in the morning because he didn’t want to invade her space, again. Unfortunately for him, he already had the knowledge of what her pillows smelled like and how soft her sheets were and he desperately wanted to invade her space again.

She nodded. “It’s no problem. I’ll go clean up a little. Just let yourself in.”

She was gone before he could get another word out. And while he listened to her footsteps as she walked away from him, he stared blankly up at the ceiling, resting his neck back on the chair. It felt like he’d just been through a fever dream, like none of it was real. Not only did he have a normal conversation with her, but now she was offering her bed to him again as well.

He needed a moment to process things.

When she got done tidying up her room and replacing her blanket with a clean one for Harry, he appeared cautiously in the doorway, yawning as he watched her gather some of her things to take to Violet’s room directly across the hall.

“I turned the TV off and the lights. Will’s still quite dead out there.”

She smiled to herself and gave him a very fleeting glance before picking the last item she needed up off her side table and then finally facing him. “It’s all yours.”

Ushering him in, he stepped into her room like he wasn’t actually allowed to. Like he had never been there before. Like he hadn’t nearly puked all over her poor white bed sheets that one night.

She replaced his spot in the doorway as he sat down on the edge of her bed. He stared at her back as she walked away, not getting his hopes up about her saying anything else to him. So, when she did turn to face him again, it just about knocked the air out of him.

“Oh and Harry?”

“Yeah?”

“Could you try to not drool on my pillows this time?”

He glanced at the top of her bed where all her pillows were neatly stacked and cringed at the horrible memories he had and at the fact that he’d actually drooled on her pillows. Like a fucking animal. Like a dog who couldn’t control himself.

“Sorry ‘bout that...” He looked at her again, genuinely apologetic and completely embarrassed by his past, drunken self.

“It’s okay.” She smiled reassuringly, “Night.”

“G’night.” Harry mumbled just before she left and closed the door behind her.

And in all the talk about drool, it wasn’t until he was cuddled under her blanket and up against her mound of pillows that he realized something. She’d said his name, out loud, to his face, where he could hear it and obsess over it and never get sick of it. He repeated it over and over in his head and kept himself awake just thinking about the way it had sounded and if he’d ever get to hear her say his name again.

The faint hum of voices right outside the door woke him slightly. His entire body was still asleep except for about half of his brain and one eye that peeked open to investigate the noise. He could tell it was early, though, his eyes stung and his body ached to go fully back to sleep.

He could make out Violet’s voice, which confused his foggy brain because he swore Will had mentioned she’d be gone all weekend, and yet here she was yelling in the hallway and interrupting his sleep.

“Please just sleep on the couch then, I need to be alone right now.” Harry furrowed his eyebrows at how distressed she sounded and flinched when the door across the hall just about slammed shut.

He heard an exasperated sigh and then squeezed his eyes shut when he saw movement under the door to Y/N’s bedroom just moments before it opened. He pretended to be asleep for as long as he could, listening to the footsteps as they carefully wandered into the room.

And then a hushed, but very exclamatory, “Ow!” got him to roll onto his back and knuckle his eyes open.

She looked at him apologetically while grasping the big toe of her right foot. “Sorry.”

“S’okay.” His voice was a lot groggier and a lot more raspy than she expected it to be. And she kind of hated herself for enjoying the view, a little too much, of Harry waking up in her bed. While she got her thoughts under control, he continued. “Did Violet just kick you out?”

She simply nodded and went back to digging into her cabinets for spare pillows.

“What time is it?” He asked.

“Four-thirty.”

Then he slowly pulled her blanket off, still dressed in his shirt and joggers from last night but without his socks and rings he’d removed before bed.

She immediately turned to him, however. “You don’t have to get up. I’m fine on the couch.” “No, I would feel bad.”

“It’s okay, really. Don’t worry about it.” She got him to stop what he was doing and lay back into the bed again while she opened up more cabinet doors to find her extra bed sets.

He cleared his throat after a little while of watching her, and gathered up the largest bundle of courage he ever had, to say what he was about to say next. With nervous, shaking fingers and a cold sweat on the back of his neck, he voiced the stupidest idea he’d ever had in his life.

“We can just both sleep here... if that’s fine.”

She froze and he knew he’d made a mistake. Why in the actual fuck did he just suggest that? Maybe he was sleep deprived. Maybe he was still reeling from last night. Maybe he had some false sense of security with her and completely forgot about the fact that last night had been the first time she’d said that many words to him. Of course she wasn’t about to climb in bed with him.

“Oh, um...” She finally found a couple pillows and pulled them from the cabinet while turning her attention back to Harry. She could not deny how desperately she wanted to crawl back into her own bed. And have a warm body next to her, which she had literally never had. No one had ever slept in her bed besides Harry, and definitely not with her. Sure, she’d slept in friends’ beds before on occasion, but this was different. It was her own bed and this was Harry, not her college friends.

So maybe it was the sleep-deprivation talking. 

“Okay.”

In all forms but physical, his jaw had just hit the floor. Never in a million years or in any other infinite alternate realities would he have thought they’d end up here, with Harry sliding over to one side of the bed to make room for her while she crawled in beside him. Her queen size gave lots of room in between them, so it wasn’t as weird as it sounded. It was just two, very tired loose-knit friends sharing a bed for a few hours.

“Goodnight, again.” Harry mumbled, realizing too late that it was technically morning now.

“Mhm,” was the only response he got out of her when she curled up under the blanket they shared and went straight back to sleep with her back to him.

And once his nerves settled, he did the same.

It was a lot easier than either of them thought possible. And for a long while, they stayed on their respective sides of the bed. But once she was lost in dreamland and he was already letting out soft snores, there was no control over what happened next. She turned and cuddled right up to his side as if her unconscious mind thought he was some kind of pillow to cradle. She wasn’t all to blame, though, as his arm wrapped around her shoulders and pulled her even closer. Closer than either of them had been to another living being in a long time. As close as her forearm spread across his chest and her head nestled into his neck. Close enough to smell his cologne but not realize why or stop any of it from happening. Not that she would have wanted to if she had any clue what she was doing. Not that he would have wanted to either.

With his hand digging into her waist, they both were mildly aware of what was going on, but both were also still too lost in their exhaustion. So, it just happened. And they held each other tighter as the minutes passed and the dreams took over once again. Because they both needed it. To hold and to be held. To feel the pressure of another person and the heartbeat on their skin. And all the loneliness in their bones melting away with each other’s touch as if they’d never been alone in the first place.

The only thing that could ever separate them was the knock on her door at nine a.m. Everything was a little fuzzy at first before she blinked a few times and realized that what she’d been using as a pillow wasn’t exactly stuffed with cotton and lined in silk. With a gasp, she pulled away from him abruptly. Ceasing all contact. Not because she wanted to necessarily, but because she would rather Harry not find out she was all over him like she had just been.

“Oh my god,” she whispered quietly in disbelief, mentally punching herself in the face for what she’d just woken up to.

But her embarrassment only skyrocketed when she dragged her eyes up his neck to his chin, then his nose and finally saw him staring right back at her with furrowed brows like he was just as confused as she was. When he glanced at the door is when she moved to do something about it.

Quickly, she pulled the covers off of herself and opened her door only the smallest amount possible. Just enough to peak her head out, but not enough for Will to see Harry in her bed. Where she’d just been sleeping right next to him. Or... right on top of him, as it seemed.

“Did Harry go home last night?”

With absolutely no plan to go along with her lie, she still figured it was the better option than to admit to Will she’d been in the same bed as Harry. That she’d been all fucking over him for who knows how long.

“Um, yeah. After you fell asleep.”

From behind her, Harry quietly smacked his hands over his face and fell back dramatically into her fluffy pillows.

“Oh, ok. Vi won’t come out of her room, but I’m going to go get breakfast from Jade’s. You want anything?”

“No, I’m alright, thanks.” Her words fused together in a flash, just trying to get the least amount of information out as quickly as possible so she didn't accidentally say something suspicious.

She shut the door on him with a smile before Will could even offer her a pastry from their most loved local cafe. Once that was dealt with, and she had a moment to gather her thoughts as she stared at her door, she slowly turned around to face Harry.

Her cheeks were probably bright red and full of embarrassment seeing him there amongst her sheets; as if once she had turned around he wouldn’t actually be there, like maybe she’d dreamt the whole thing.

But no.

He was there. And he was very real. And very much looking at her like they were both insane.

“I’m sorry,” they said it at the exact same time, cutting each other off from saying anything else.

“No, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have, um...” Harry started once he found an opportunity to speak again, but he didn’t exactly know what he was apologizing for. He wasn’t sorry for how they’d ended up. He had the best four and a half hours of sleep he’d ever had.

“I shouldn’t have been like... all on you like that.” She averted her eyes when she spoke, not able to look him straight on and admit it. And she knew she was only apologizing because she felt embarrassed and like she had to. She felt like she’d invaded Harry’s space and took advantage of him.

“You don’t have to apologize.”

She just shrugged. Nothing he said at this point could make her feel any less horrible about it. And even so, some part deep down inside of her, when she finally looked at him again, wanted to get right back into that spot with him for another few hours.

It just felt... right. And even though she couldn’t remember what she dreamed about, she knew it wasn’t her usual nightmare. She had felt safe and secure, and not so alone anymore, sleeping beside him like that and she felt stupid knowing it would never happen again.

“I should get going then. Before Will comes back and realizes I didn’t actually leave.” Harry let out an exasperated laugh as he began getting up, sitting himself on the edge of her bed with his back facing her as he stretched. The fabric of his shirt tugged along his muscles as he flexed them awake, and she grew far too overwhelmed thinking about the fact that those fucking arms of his had been around her for the better half of the morning. She could still feel him holding onto her and his grip at her side.

She needed a very cold shower and some fresh air.

[writings-of-a-daphodil]

Fire Keeper: Chapter 3

Douxie x fem reader

Chapter 1

Masterlist in bio!

Series Summary: You are Jim's older sister who is taking a break from college and has moved back home to Arcadia. You end up joining Jim and his friends on their adventures. Chapter 3 summary: Your first magic lesson with Vendel leads you to a certain book store. A/n: This is a really long chapter. I wanted to combine two episodes together and I had quite a few scene ideas and I wrote it so they went together and then suddenly I realized I got to 3k, so have fun. I hope y’all like it. Enjoy!

“Have some fun on your field trip today, okay Jim,” you said, giving your brother a quick hug, something you were beginning to do more often.

   “You too, have fun during your magic lesson and don’t forget to enjoy your day off either.”

   “I will,” you responded as you began walking down the sidewalk towards the canal.

   It wasn’t too far of a walk and you were down the crystal stairs and on your way to the Heartstone in no time.

   “Ms. Lake, welcome,” Vendel greeted as he turned to you.

   “Hi Vendel,” you responded, taking your seat next to a pile of books. You had begun your lessons the day after you arrived in Trollmarket and by now it was a routine. Vendel would finish whatever he was working on while you read a book and practiced your trollish. You were picking it up quickly, unlike your brother, but you understood that he was busier.

   You focused on the pile and you felt your magic begin stir inside you. You focused a little harder and your hands began to glow orange and seconds later so did the books. You waved your hands and the books floated into the air, forming a line. You began to read the covers to try and find one that interested you and you settled on the fourth book.

   “I see you’ve been practicing,” Vendel said. From his work table as you opened the old, worn book.

   “Practice makes perfect,” you replied as you began to read. You were halfway through the book—which was on the history of the troll-gnome relationship—when Vendel finished his work.

   “So, what am I learning today?” You asked, bookmarking your page and giving your full attention to your teacher.

   “I do not know much about Wizard magic, troll magic is different and I am running out of things I can teach you,” he paused to think and you waited patiently. “Hmm, I could teach you a few healing spells.”

   “I’m ready.”

~~~~

“You’re beginning to master the basics, and your training with your brother is beginning to show,” Vendel praised as you were able to recite all the incantations back to him. While levitating. Upside down.

“Thank you,” you beamed, settling back down to the floor.

“Your welcome.”

You said goodbye and made your way out of Trollmarket to enjoy the rest of your day. Enjoying the rest of your day would feature possibly visiting Douxie’s bookstore and reading the trollish books you had borrowed. It may not seem like the most thrilling of things to do, but you were excited.

You entered the bookshop and a bell tolled your arrival. You glanced around at the quaint store, it radiated a sort of peaceful and relaxing energy. You could definitely see yourself coming back and spending a lot of time there.

You wandered amongst the shelves looking at the books. Many of them looked old and you wondered if you might find something on magic. You were desperate for more knowledge and Vendel didn't exactly have books on your type of magic. For the time being you were stuck making troll spells work for you.

None of the books in the store seemed to be calling you so you made your way over to the staircase. Maybe there would be something for you on the second floor.

As you turned and got your view of the second floor, you also got a view of a cat. Said cat just so happened to be wearing glasses.

    "What in the world?" You mumbled, staring at the cat who was staring right back at you. It meowed, breaking eye contact and began to lick one of his paws.

You continued to stand there, frozen in confusion.

"Ah, Y/n. Hi,"  a certain English-accented boy said, breaking you out of your thoughts.

    "Um, hi Douxie," you said, turning your focus to him. He seemed to notice your confusion and he looked around, his eyes landing on the cat.

"Oh, that's where my glasses went. I've been looking all over for them!" He laughed a nervous sounding laugh and took the glasses from the cat. Putting them on he said, “Anyways, how may I help you?”

   You stood there, not saying anything for a few seconds longer. Douxie wearing glasses was an interesting sight and you had to admit he looked kinda cute.

   “Um, I’m looking for old books,” you stated lamely. You didn’t really know what else to say. You weren’t really looking for any books in particular and you weren’t exactly expecting to find a book with magic, you were just hoping.

   “Right this way.” Douxie motioned for you to follow him and he walked past you, rather slowly, down the stairs. He went to turn and rammed into the banister, almost falling down the rest of the stairs.

   “Douxie!” You rushed down the remaining stairs to help him up.

   “Thanks,” he said as you helped him up.

   “Are you sure those glasses help you see?” You jokingly asked.

   He chuckled nervously and continued to lead you to a shelf. “These may interest you.”

   You walked up to the shelf crammed with old books. You began to read the titles on the sides, occasionally pulling out a book that caught your interest, but so far none of them were really calling to you.

   You were so involved in your search you forgot that Douxie was still there.

   “Here, what about this one?” He asked, handing you an ancient looking book. While none of the other books called to you, this one did.

   You opened it up and began to leaf through it. The pages were filled with magic spells and they even looked like it was your type of magic. You flipped to the front of the book and found the author: M. Ambrosius.

   The book seemed so authentic, you knew you had to buy it and show Vendel.

   You turned to Douxie. “How much?”

   “It’s on me. We’ve had this book forever and no one seems to want it. Getting rid of it will open up space for more.”

   “No way, you’re working three jobs just to make ends meet. Here,” you handed him some money and gave him a quick hug. You were so excited about finding the book, you didn’t realize you were doing it until it was over.

   “Anyways, thanks,” you mumbled, embarrassed. You internally rolled your eyes at yourself, falling for Douxie wasn’t a good idea.

   “Any time,” he replied and you noticed his cheeks were tinted pink.

   You opened your mouth to say more but your phone started ringing. It was Jim.

   “Hey, is everything okay?” You asked, worry gripping your heart.

   “Yeah, but Eli, one of my classmates, found some kind of troll remains. Toby and I are going to take Blinky and Aaarrrgghh to see it tonight.”

   “Okay send me the address.” The two of you said your goodbyes and you hung up.

   “Is everything okay?” Douxie asked, his face showing concern.

   “Yes. My brother just worries me sometimes and I always assume the worst.” You smiled at Douxie and began heading towards the door. “Again, thank you.”

   “Anytime.”

   You hopped into your car and drove to the address Jim had sent you. It didn’t take you too long and you were able to easily find and unfortunately recognize the remains. If your guess was right then they were the remains of a goblin.

   You had never met one before, but you had recently finished a book on magical creatures and they were evil little things that would be out to kill whoever or whatever made the splotch on the ground.

   You called Jim to tell him of your findings and he promised to meet you at Eli’s house at nightfall. Meanwhile you began reading the book Douxie had given you.

   Time flew by as you read the book. It was fascinating and had little notes in the margin. You were interrupted from your reading by the arrival of everyone.

   The five of you were able to determine that the goblins would be after the delivery guy who would be back later that night and so the stakeout began.

   You hid with Jim and Blinky and were able to catch up with your brother. It had been a long while since you had the time to just talk with him about everything that was going on.

   You were able to talk about his fight with Steve, his upcoming one with Draal, and everything else. It was really nice.

   You were able to talk for hours before the delivery guy arrived and the goblins followed soon after. They were terrifying, but you tried to keep your cool. You didn't want them sensing your fear.

   Unfortunately Jim and Toby were unaware of that little but important fact so goblins began to chase the five of you all the way to Toby’s house.

It was your first time out on the field helping Jim ‘Trollhunt’ and you didn’t know if you were exhilarated or terrified. It took you forever to fall asleep and you were jittery and extra alert during your job the next day.

That afternoon as you were on your way to the Heartstone for another lesson when Jim called you.

“Hey, Toby and I found out that the goblin hideout is at the Museum. We’re going with Blinky and Aaarrrgghh tonight.”

“Okay, stay safe. I’m going to go to my lesson if you don’t need me.”

“I’ll always need you, but have fun at your lesson.” After that and your goodbyes you hung up as you arrived at the Heartstone.

“Hello Ms. Lake.”

“Hi Vendel. I found a book yesterday and it looks like it might be about Wizard magic.” He turned to you, quickly abandoning whatever he was working on. You handed it to him and he began to flip through it.

“Merlin wrote this,” Vendel said, turning his attention back to you. “It’s authentic, but I’m concerned about the means in which you bought this book.”

“I can look into it,” you offered as the gravity of the situation hit you. It would be very bad if there were more books out there like this and humans were reading it and believing it.

“Good. I suppose we can go onto our lesson now. We’ll move to the Hero’s forge and I want you to try levitating while blasting targets.”

Time passed slowly as you practiced your magic. You were pretty proud of yourself for ho9w quickly you were learning magic and excelling in it.

Levitating was hard though and took up lots of energy so you had to take frequent breaks, but slowly the breaks were becoming fewer and further between.

You levitated into the air again, ready for the next round when your phone beeped, startling you. You crashed to the floor hard and Vendel chuckled. “Perhaps you should work on your concentration.”

You smiled at him while checking your phone. “It’s from Jim.”

You unlocked your phone and read the text aloud, “Museum, shapeshifter, help, hurry.”

“Go,” was all Vendel said and you took off running. Exhaustion was only an afterthought as you rushed to get to your brother.

The worst thoughts entered your mind when you saw the police cars in front of the museum. You ran up to an officer.

“Sir, what’s going on?” You asked panting.

“Some kids broke into the museum for some sort of bracelet,” he responded in a bored tone and you tried don’t to roll your eyes.

“Y/n!” Toby called out to you as he was pushed into a squad car.

“You know these kids?” The officer asked.

“Yeah, the tall one’s my brother. I, uh, told them to wait till morning so I could talk to the curator about getting the bracelet back, but obviously they didn’t listen,” you said smiling. It wasn’t your most creative lie, but you couldn’t tell the officer that what they had really gone in there for was to follow goblins.

“Well we’re just going to the station so follow us there.” With that said you got into your car and made your way to the police station.

You were sitting in the waiting room when your old history teacher, Mr. Strickler, arrived.

“Ah, Ms. Lake. I didn’t know you decided to stay here for college.”

“I’m taking a break,” you said. “I didn’t know you frequented police stations in the dead of night.”

“I’m here because of your brother actually. Nomura and I are close friends and I am hoping to convince her to drop the charges.”

“Wow, thank you, Mr. Strickler. That’s very kind of you, you’ve been a great teacher to both Jim and I.”

“That is what I strive to do, Ms. Lake,” he said as we walked down a hall to where you assumed Nomura was.

Soon after your mom arrived. “Y/n, what happened?”

You quickly explained what happened and you did your best to talk her down from grounding him indefinitely. You knew Jim shouldn’t even be getting booked at the police station and you wanted to make sure he didn’t have too bad of a punishment. Eventually you and your mom settled on him and Toby being grounded until they apologize. By the time that was decided you were heading home.

You were exhausted and fell asleep the moment your head hit the pillow and in the morning you almost missed your alarm. The day went by quickly and you arrived at home to see Jim making a feast.

“What’s all this?”

“My fight with Draal is tomorrow,” he said in way of explanation. You smiled sadly, you couldn’t handle the fact that Jim thought he was going to die. And on top of your fear and worry you weren’t able to get tomorrow of work.

You hugged your brother tightly and began setting the table. “Anything you want me to do?”

“Just… just take care of mom.”

“I meant with dinner, goof. You aren’t going to die. I refuse to believe it.”

“Fine, can you stir this?” He asked, handing you a bowl. You didn’t fail to notice that he didn’t react to your statement.

“So,” you started in an attempt to change the conversation, “what were mom and Mr. Strickler talking about last night, she seemed almost giddy when you got home.”

“Ughh, they’re going out for coffee.”

“Oh,” you said smiling to yourself. Mr. Strickler was a great teacher and if he made your mom happy you were happy.

Your mom arrived home soon after and you had a wonderful family dinner filled with laughs. It was one of your best nights in a while.

That night you fell into a peaceful sleep. Tomorrow would be scary, but you believed in your brother. He would win.  

You were sleeping so peacefully you almost missed your alarm that you had specifically set early so you would be able to talk to Jim. Your mom was already gone for work and so was Jim. So much for that plan. You quickly got ready for work and arrived almost a half hour early.

Throughout the day you were a huge bundle of nerves. Your focus was on Jim, but thanks to your training in multitasking you were able to do a good job at work. With adrenaline and worry coursing through your veins you got your work done twice as fast, but distraction plagued you too. You almost used your telekinesis to save a tray that was spilled by your coworker.

You were so distracted you didn’t notice when your shift ended and Douxie took the broom from you.

The bistro had quieted done almost a half hour ago and you had been sweeping that whole time even though you finished in fifteen minutes.

“Are you okay?” Douxie asked. Concern, this time for you, was etched on his face and you tried not to read much into it.

“Some things are going on with my brother today and I’m scared for him,” you explained.

“Why don't I help you to your car so you can go talk with him?” Douxie offered and you nodded. You quickly took off your apron and grabbed your stuff.

“Do you need me to drive you?” Douxie asked as he noticed your hands were shaking. Now that you didn’t have work you were only more afraid and upset over the fact that Toby or anyone hadn’t called you.

“No thank you,” you replied. You didn’t want to make Douxie late to work.

“It’s really no problem,” he replied and you were about to respond when your phone began ringing. You fumbled to grab it and you almost dropped it. You looked at the caller id. It was Toby.

“Toby? Please tell me Jim is okay.”

“Jimbo’s fine, he even spared Draal’s life. Most of the trolls aren’t happy about that, but we’ll be home soon.”

“Oh, thank goodness,” you mumbled, then, “Bye Toby, thank you for being there for Jim.”

“Anytime Y/n/n.” He hung up and you turned to see Douxie offering a tissue. You were confused at first but then you realized you were crying from the joy and relief that Jim was alive.

“Good news I hope,” Douxie said as you took the tissue and wiped your eyes.

“Jim’s okay.”

“It’s sweet how much you care about your brother.”

“He has a lot on his shoulders and he cares so much for everyone else. Someone had to be there for him.” With that said you wished him well and started driving home.

You pulled into the driveway just as Jim walked up with Toby. You leapt out of your car, not bothering to turn it off, to hug them.

“I know this is probably only the first of many times that I will be concerned for your life and the first of many post-death-defying-situation-hugs, but please try not to do this often. I was worried for you all day. One of my coworkers had to walk me to my car because I was shaking so much.”

“Sorry I put you through that Y/n.”

“Thanks. It won’t be the last time, but I’m glad you’re safe now. By the way I called in your absences at school.”

“Thank you.” They both exclaimed and you smiled. The three of you said your goodbyes and you turned off and locked your car while Jim took care of his bike, then the two of you walked inside together.

Unfortunately it wasn’t time to celebrate yet Nomura was inside the house talking with your mom. You scowled at her as Jim began talking. You never expected Jim to actually apologize to the changing and you had planned on covering him, but here she was now, having tea with your mom.

Your mom started to say something when she fell unconscious.

“I‘ ll get mom!” You immediately called out as Jim said the amulet’s incantation and began to fight Nomura. Your heart rate sped up for the thousandth time that day as you checked her pulse. It was there and you began to believe Nomura that whatever was in the tea would only hurt your mom’s memory.

Jim retreated up the stairs and you began to recite the healing incantations you had learned a few days ago. They didn’t wake her up, but you could tell your mom would be alright. You heard Jim take the fight outside and you realized it wouldn’t be good if your mother woke up at the table.

You focused on her and she began to glow orange. She floated up from her seat and you were able to move her to her bed without hurting her.

You quietly closed the door and realized that you didn't hear fighting any more. You carefully walked out to the backyard only to find Jim and Draal chatting.

“Are you okay?” You asked.

“Yeah, Draal showed up just in time.”

You turned to Draal. “Thank you.”

“Your welcome, sister of Jim. I have requested to your brother that I stay here and protect your home. I can not go back to troll market while my honor is tarnished”

“First, call me Y/n and second it would be lovely having an extra line of defense here.”

“Good.” Draal walked into your house and Jim made to follow, but you pulled him into a hug first.

“I know having Nomura here wasn’t your choice, but why don’t you take the rest of the day off? It’s been a long one,” you suggested.

“That sounds nice.”

****

And I hope y'all liked it. I had a blast writing it and I have planned many more chapters. I've really enjoyed exploring Y/n 's life as well as her relationship with Douxie and there will definitely be more of that. Anyways I've written a sort of bonus half chapter from Douxie's pov and I will post that tomorrow. Have a great night/day and stay safe! Thank y'all for reading!

Chapter 3.5: https://writings-of-a-daphodil.tumblr.com/post/627219547087323136/fire-keeper-chapter-35

[scarletarosa]

Odin

Norse god of wisdom, knowledge, poetry, war, victory, sovereignty, divination, and magick

One of Odin’s countless titles is “All-father” (Old Norse: Alfaðir), since he is essentially the father of all of the Norse gods and was believed to be the divine ancestor of countless families from all over northern Europe. He is simultaneously an Aesir god, a Vanir god (the Vanir god Odr is only an extension or transposition of Odin), and a jötunn (ancient giant). Odin’s mother, Bestla, was one of the first frost-giants. One Old Norse poem even identifies him with önd, the breath of life. Furthermore, Odin is also the discoverer of the Runic alphabet and is married to the mother-goddess Frigg. 

Appearance and Roles: Old Norse texts portray Odin as one-eyed and long-bearded, frequently wielding a spear named Gungnir and wearing a cloak and a broad hat. One of the most striking attributes of his appearance is his single, piercing eye. His other eye socket is empty – the eye it once held was sacrificed by himself in order to gain wisdom. Odin is often accompanied by his animal companions and familiars—the wolves Geri and Freki and the ravens Huginn and Muninn, who bring him information from all over Midgard—and rides the flying, eight-legged steed Sleipnir across the sky and into the Underworld. Odin is the son of Bestla and Borr and has two brothers, Vili and Vé. Odin is attested as having many sons, most famously the gods Thor (with Jörð) and Baldr (with Frigg), and is known by hundreds of names. In these texts he frequently seeks greater knowledge, at times in disguise (most famously by obtaining the Mead of Poetry), makes wagers with his wife Frigg over the outcome of exploits, and takes part both in the creation of the world by way of slaying the primordial being Ymir and in giving the gift of life to the first two humans, Ask and Embla. Odin has a particular association with the festival of Yule, and mankind's knowledge of both the runes and poetry is also attributed to him. 

Old Norse texts also state that female entities connected with the battlefield—the valkyries—were led by Odin, since he oversees Valhalla, where he receives half of those who die in battle, the einherjar, the honourable warriors. The other half are then claimed by the goddess Freyja for her afterlife location, Fólkvangr. Odin also is said to consult the disembodied, herb-embalmed head of the wise being Mímir for advice, and during the foretold events of Ragnarök Odin is told to lead the einherjar into battle before being consumed by the monstrous wolf Fenrir. In later folklore Odin appears as a leader of the Wild Hunt, a ghostly procession of the dead through the winter sky. He is also associated with charms and other forms of magic, particularly in Old English and Old Norse texts. 

As a god of sovereignty, Odin is paradoxically also the favourite god and helper of outlaws, those who have been banished from society for some especially heinous crime, as well. Like Odin, many such men were exceptionally strong-willed warrior-poets who were apathetic to established societal norms – Egill Skallagrímsson (Egil’s Saga) and Grettir Ásmundarson (The Saga of Grettir the Strong) are two examples. The late twelfth/early thirteenth-century Danish historian Saxo Grammaticus even relates a tale of Odin being outlawed from Asgard for ten years so that the other gods and goddesses wouldn’t be tarnished by the vile reputation he had acquired amongst many humans. Whatever their social stature, the humans favored by Odin are distinguished by their intelligence, creativity, and competence in the proverbial “war of all against all”. For Odin, any kind of limitation is something to be overcome by any means necessary, and his actions are carried out within the context of a relentless and ruthless quest for more wisdom, knowledge, and power, usually of a magical sort. 

Odin’s competitive side once drove him to challenge the wisest of the jǫtnar (giants) to a contest to see who was more knowledgeable. The reward was to be the head of the loser, and Odin won this challenge by asking his opponent something that only he himself could know. Odin then claimed his prize and returned to Asgard. Along with Freyja, he is one of the two greatest practitioners of shamanism amongst the gods. The Ynglinga Saga records that Odin often “travels to distant lands on his own errands or those of others” while he appears to others to be asleep or dead. Another instance is recorded in the Eddic poem “Baldur’s Dreams,” where Odin rode Sleipnir, an eight-legged horse, to the Underworld in order to consult a dead seeress on behalf of his son. Odin’s mastery of necromancy, the magical art of communicating with and raising the dead, is frequently noted. While there are several reasons Odin maintains this commerce with the dead, including his desire to learn what knowledge and wisdom they possess, the most significant reason is his dread-driven desire to have as many of the best warriors as possible on his side when he must face the wolf Fenrir during Ragnarok – even though he knows that he’s doomed to die in the battle. 

Myths: In myth, Odin needed to make a sacrifice of himself in order to obtain great wisdom. This myth displays the great desire for knowledge and wisdom Odin holds, as well as his unstoppable will-power. Odin All-Father was troubled deeply for the whisperings of the Yggdrasil tree had told him the prophecies of the end, of Ragnarök. He had listened and knew of how Surtr the Black would join the giants in their war against the gods, how he would arise out of the flames of Muspell and drown the earth in fire. Odin’s wisdom told him that he could not prevent this end, but he hoped that perhaps, with wisdom, something could be done to have some gods and humans to survive. Odin travelled the Bifrost to Midgard and began to search for the well of Mimir. The well lay beneath the root of Yggdrasil that grew out of Jotunheim. It was kept my Mimir, the man who drank its wisdom each morning and who kept watch over the Gjallar-horn that Heimdallr, the white watcher, will blow on the day of Ragnarök. 

After many days of travel, Odin came to the edge of the well deep in Jotunheim. Mimir approached him and took up the horn Gjallar and filled it with good water from the well and gave the horn to Odin to drink. As he drank, his eyes opened and saw visions of great and terrible sufferings that would befall both men and gods. He drank again and saw the ways that gods and men might, in great noble courage, fight and defeat the evils that would surely arise, though at great cost for he saw also his death and the death of the Aesir that lived in Asgard by his side. How mighty Thor would succumb to the venom of the great serpent, and how Loki would come against Heimdallr and would kill one another, he saw his own defeat at the jaws of Fenrir, and many more deaths and failings that would come of Ragnarök. 

After witnessing these things, Odin put his hand to his face and plucked out his right eye. The pain was great and searing, but he made no sound nor showed his great suffering. Mimir took the eye and threw it into the well where it sunk deep but glistened like glass, a sign to any who might pass of the price Odin All-Father paid for his wisdom. And Odin returned to Asgard and sat upon his throne and considered the things he had seen. 

In another myth, Odin underwent a ritual death and rebirth in order to discover the runes. At the centre of the Norse cosmos stands the great tree Yggdrasil. Yggdrasil’s upper branches cradle Asgard, the home and fortress of the Aesir gods and goddesses, of whom Odin is the chief. Yggdrasil grows out of the Well of Urd, a pool whose fathomless depths hold many of the most powerful forces and beings in the cosmos. Among these beings are the Norns, three sagacious maidens who create the fate of all beings. One of the foremost techniques they use to shape fate is carving runes into Yggdrasil’s trunk. The symbols then carry these intentions throughout the tree, affecting everything in the Nine Worlds. Since the runes’ native home is in the Well of Urd with the Norns, and since the runes do not reveal themselves to any but those who prove themselves worthy of such fearful insights and abilities, Odin hung himself from a branch of Yggdrasil, pierced himself with his spear, and peered downward into the shadowy waters below. He forbade any of the other gods to grant him the slightest aid, not even a sip of water. 

And he stared downward, downward, and called to the runes. He survived in this state, teetering on the precipice that separates the living from the dead, for no less than nine days and nights. At the end of the ninth night, he at last perceived shapes in the depths: the runes. They had accepted his sacrifice and shown themselves to him, revealing to him not only their forms, but also the secrets that lie within them. Having fixed this knowledge in his formidable memory, Odin ended his ordeal with a scream of exultation. Having been initiated into the mysteries of the runes, Odin recounted:

“Then I was fertilized and became wise; I truly grew and thrived. From a word to a word I was led to a word, From a work to a work I was led to a work.”

Equipped with the knowledge of how to wield the runes, he became one of the mightiest and most accomplished beings in the cosmos. He learned chants that enabled him to heal emotional and bodily wounds, to bind his enemies and render their weapons worthless, to free himself from constraints, to put out fires, to expose and banish practitioners of malevolent magic, to protect his friends in battle, to wake the dead, to win and keep a lover, and to perform many other feats like these.

Personality: In my personal experiences with Odin, he is withdrawn, reclusive, analytical, methodical, studious, very serious, loves riddles and numbers, is a physiomancer (can divine the future through many methods), and takes oaths very seriously, rarely forgiving anyone who breaks them. He can help with many things, including gaining wisdom and knowledge, magickal prowess, divination, shamanism, spiritual rebirths, cunning, and discovering what truly matters in life so we can move past lesser things. Odin says that he can also assist in protecting against the malicious god Loki, who tricks others into trusting him and then harms them unsuspectingly, or disguises himself as their loved ones in order to hurt them or get his way.  

Offerings: beer (all types but prefers dark/stout), meat (pork, all game animals and birds), eggs, courgettis, oak, ash wood, runes, amber, lightning bolt imagery, any form of fortune telling tools (tarot, pendulum, etc.), crow/raven skulls or feathers, black silk, aubergine, wooden bowls, white sandalwood, black peppercorns, cedar, white daisies, cosmic tree imagery, crow/raven statuettes.

[pearlsongfromstuff]

Hi its the oc ask anon from before! The New God OCs look intriguing and im always a sucker for dnd!

I watch Kyo's stuff too so all of that is really interesting as well, but the New God thing is drawing me in. If you want to talk about other ocs that's okay, but thats the one that has my interest atm

Have a good day pearl!

Thank you so much, Anon! I'ma nickname you Anny, Anny. So anyways, with just New God OCs (The name New God actually is name of my biggest AU that houses most of my main stories and my OCs. The name was inspired by the name Bad God but instead of a "Bad" God, there are "New" God's running the world. Fun little fact)

So with just these OCs alone we have 33 OCs, so I'ma give brief explanations for them

(Note: All the OCs with (*) are made by @chaoscorners-blog since we share these OCs but they were his original concepts)

(Also some other vocabulary you might need to know for this AU:

Minnrig- A fake Micronation near Ukraine and Romania where most of the stories take place. This place holds all the power in this universe

Red Eye Curse: Also called the 2p Disease or Madness Curse, the Red Eye Curse was a magical curse that plagued most of the 2p Universe. It drove people to madness by making them selfish, power-hungry and manipulative. It's also why the 2p Universe was known as the "Evil Side" while the 1p Universe was known as the "Good Side". It eventually disappeared 10 years as fast as it appeared)

Pearl and *Angel (He/they / He/They): The "New Gods". They run the universe and live in a castle near Minnrig. Though they may seem kind and thoughtful on the surface, they're actually not that good of people. I recommend not coming close to them.

Darling (She/Her): Adopted daughter of Pearl and Angel, she is known to have any magical powers. Not much is known about her since she rather hide in the Ancient Records within the castle

Star and Rose (He/Him, She/Her): Star and Rose are also adopted children of Pearl and Angel but unlike their older sister, they have magic. Star and Rose are probably more powerful than Pearl and Angel combined. Star is more adventurous and wants to learn about the magic in the world while Rose tries to live a more normal life, away from her godly heritage.

*Viktor and Sal (He/Him, They/Them) : Two 2ps that escaped to the 1p World, they live with Pearl and Angel as caretakers for Star and Rose. Star is the most attached to them, calling Sal "Mama" and Viktor "Dad".

Lewton (He/Him): The personification of Minnrig, Lewton is also the Detective of the town. He's also the husband of Bazarov (who we'll talk about if anyone asks about 2ps) and he's also responsible for the end of the Red Eye Curse.

*Zargon and Diablo (He/Him, She/Her): The Adopted children of Bazarov, sadly they were found around the time Bazarov had the Curse, they were taught since adoption to become soldier, and they're mainly representative of Heart (Zargon) and Mind (Diablo). Bazarov actually stole Diablo's heart for years, making her very heartless and making her a war criminal like her father while her brother always seemed to get the blame. After many years and while Lewton was working on saving the world, Zargon found Diablo's heart and they got the fuck out of there.

Deera (She/Her): The eldest sister of Zargon and Diablo, Deera kinda left her siblings for dead after the death of their birth parents. She instead headed to the Fantasy universe and kinda became a fucking villain in the stories, mainly manipulating anyone for whatever she wants.

Riley (She/Her): Another adopted child of Bazarov (He has a lot), She was raised while Zargon and Diablo were but sperate. She later on took over her father's place as General.

Abble (She/her): An (say it with me now) adopted child of Bazarov but with a twist: She's also Lewton's daughter. She actually has a nice upbringing unlike her other siblings because Bazarov was free of the curse when she was being raised. Her siblings are highly jealous of this.

Bean and Loki (He/Him, He/Him): Bean is a cat who radiated too much magic and can now turn human. Loki is a Mochi America but somehow, during hatching, gained more of a conscience than his other Mochi brethren. They're also married after many weird circumstances.

*Azreal (She/Her): To put it shortly, she's a bootleg Dr. Frankenstein. She has a never ending thirst for knowledge and uses such knowledge of other universes to bring people to life and to create life. And in one story, she kills Nevo......sooooooo-

*Mono (He/Him): During life, he was a simple manga artist with a wife and child but after horrible circumstances, he ends up dead at the hands of a gang. Azreal takes him and brings him back to life. Sadly, during the "bringing back to life" process, his soul is merged with a more evil soul, so now two personalities are contained in one body. Mono being the more awkward side and Parasite having absolutely no chill.

Pearl Song (Any Pronouns): Originally my very first cringy Marysue OC, we revamped her into being another of Azreal's projects. She has the power of the everything due to her past life and now uses that power in her current life to cause chaos with her favorite brother, Mono.

*Foalina and *Matthias (She/Her, He/Him): Another project by Azreal, they are two bunny twins that travel the world as performers. On stage, Foalina is seen as meak and weak while Matthias is more flirtatious and cunning. Off stage, they hate each other with a burning passion

*Caddy (She/They): Another project by Azreal, she is a mute traveler of the many universes. She is very excited soul that likes any good story.

*Shyane (She/Her): Azreal's first project, at first, Azreal saw her as a daughter and she saw Azreal as a mother but after time, their relationship became more strained and she became more of a servant than a daughter. She is very nurturing and caring.

*Demonic and *Ivan (She/Her, He/Him): Demonic is another project by Azreal which Azreal didn't just take a dead body and reanimate it, she actually created her. She was mainly used for experiments until she finally left. After many unfortunate events in her life, she gives birth to Ivan, her son. Ivan is the light of her life and just is an absolute sweetheart. We see more of them during Ages AU.

*Lilla (She/Her): A girl from the 1500's that left her home to become a Teutonic Knight so she didn't become a maid, after her entire crew is supposedly murdered and the enemy is after her, she starts working for a witch in the woods who eventually send her to the future to escape death sentence.

Amelia (Amy) (She/Her): Basically Amy Rose (from Sonic series) but she is an old interpretation I had of her in 2016 that she basically became my OC. Anyways, she also comes to our present and meets Lilla and after she helps her understand the world around her (which Amy sees as old technology), they actually fall in love and get married, yay!

Cosmo (She/Her): Daughter of Amy and Lilla

Amore (She/Her): Amy's past lover that basically gets in fights with Lilla a lot

Kaarlo (He/Him): Lilla's past lover that dies of hypothermia after looking for her in the snow. F in the chat

Berry, *Duke, Nicholas, and *Cole (Any Pronouns, He/Him, He/Him and He/They): Basically two femboys (Berry and Cole) and two hunks (Nicholas and Duke) in a Dream Scape

AND THERE ARE ALL MY ORIGINAL CHARCTERSSSSS. Damn that's a lot of typing for one phone. Anyways, I hope this entertained you guys! I will take any asks you have. I will also post some art of all of them later

[thebookwormfairy]

The-Family-Who-Lived AU

Fandom: Harry Potter

Pairing: James x Lily, Harry x Hermione

A/N: I already know I have sooooo many works I'm suppose to get out, but this is just stuck in my head and I can't get it out. So enjoy my first contribution to HP fandom

Voldemort was dead

He was finally gone

James sat heavily on his chair in Pottor Manor cradling his wife and son in his arms thinking of what happened earlier that night

The attack on his family

The obvious betrayal by his friend Peter who now was on his way to Azkaban

James didn't know what saved them from Vodemort or what killed him, but he was grateful

All he remembered was facing off against that evil man in his son's nursery. Begging him to spare Lily and Harry's lives

He saw the spell being cast he heard the words cross Voldemort's lips, but they didn't die

Everything was a blur after that

Them leaving the destroyed house

Seeing Hagrid arrive, telling him to send word to Dumbledore about what happen

Sirius and him capturing Peter and Sirius taking him in

Apporating away from the scene as reporters began spilling in promising answers in the morning

Lily shifted in his arms breaking him from his thoughts

Lily: What do we do now?

James: We treasure the gift we've been given

And that's what they did

James used his position as both and Aurora and the Head of a powerful and Ancient house to make sure every Death Eater that was brought before him faced justice

And when the Minstery refused to put away rich men who turned out to be Death Eaters he would use his title as a member of the Family-Who-Lived to remind people what could happen if they let these men walk

James helped put away men like Peter Pettigrew, Luscious Malfory, Barty Crouch Jr., and Severous Snape, so that his son could have a better and safer future

Soon James was promoted to Head Aurora for all his work against Death Eaters and keeping people safe

But he had a feeling him being a member of the Family-Who-Lived also played a part in thay

As Harry grew older and started to attend primary school (Lily insisted) Lily accepted the job as the Ancient Runes and Muggle Studies professor at Hogwarts

At first a lot of the students were nervous around her, she was a member of the Family-Who-Lived, which meant she had to be a very powerful witch and very tough to help defeat He Who Must Not Be Named

As the students walked into the room they were expecting a very stern woman who wouldn't put up with anything

But soon she was able to disprove their expectations with her kindness and patience

Soon she was known as the cool professor throughout all the houses

When they entered her classroom she didn't care about the colors they wore, where they came from, or what their blood status was

They were her students first everything else second

She loved her job, she even started a couple of clubs for the muggleborns and halfbloods to help them keep connected to their roots in the muggle world, with some curious purebloods joining the clubs as well

Such as a muggle sports club with Madame Hooch were they would play sports like football and rugby

Lily would also smuggle in muggle shows using magic, the most popular one being Doctor Who

She showed an episode in class once and got a lot of the purebloods obsessed with it

Now she plays episodes in her classroom every Tuesday and Thursday during lunch

But no matter how busy they got in their professional lives Lily and James always made sure to put their family first

They made sure they were there for dinner every nigh and they would switch off who would pick Harry up from school with Remus and Sirus picking Harry up when neither could

The two men practically lived at Potter Manor with the family the only sleeping in their own apartments when they had a date (Sirius) or if it was close to the full moon (Remus)

With them being known as the Family-Who-Lived James and Lily was careful to not exposed Harry too much to the wizarding world

They didn't want him growing up in the lime light with constant scrutiny from others

Because of this they were very careful with who they let Harry interact with

The first family was of course the one of Harry's godmother the Longbottoms Alice, Frank, and Neville

The Second Family was the Weasleys who did everything they could to help during the war

The third was of course Sirius' favorite cousin Andy and her husband Ted with their little girl in tow who soon became the leader of the children when she was home from Hogwarts

The fourth family surprised a lot of people because it was the Malfoy family.

After Lucious went to Azkaban, Narcissa reconnected with her estranged sister Andy, begging for forgiveness and to start over

Andy of course welcomed her sister back into her life with open arms and vouch for her with the Potters

The boys from each family seem to take to each other almost immediately

And much to James' glee and Lily's annoyance Harry seemed to inherent James' knack for causing trouble and dragging innocent boys down with him

Harry loved his family and his life

He got to play with his best friends Ron, Neville, and Draco almost everyday

His dad and uncles would tell him all sort of stories from their days in Hogwarts and the trouble they caused

His favorite was about how his dad first met his mom

Lily would always roll her eyes when James told that story making sure to give Harry her side of it

When Harry turned 11 and got his Hogwarts letter the Muaraders sat Harry, Ron, Neville, and Draco down and told them about the Muraders and officially passed the name down to the new group of boys, giving them the map and Harry the invincibility cloak

The group of boys made a promise with eachother that they would become animagis just like the original members

Lily overheard them and made them promise to let her know when they started the process so she can at least keep an eye on them in case something goes wrong

They also promised to stay friends no matter what house they were sorted into

September 1st came faster then expected and soon the Potter family (uncles included) were dropping Harry off on Platform 9¾

As they past through the barrier Harry told them he was going to look to see if his friends had arrived yet running off before any of the adults could tell him no

Lily *shaking her head*: That boy, I swear he's just like you, James.

James *laighing and wrapping his arms around Lily's waist*: He's much more like you my love with his brilliant mind and caring heart

Lily: Flattery will get you no where Potter. Can any of you see Harry or the Malfoys, Longbottoms, or Weasleys?

The men began to scan the crowd looking for the young Potter and his friends

Sirius*pointing in the opposite direction Harry went*: There are the Malfoys

James: And I can see Frank by the train

Remus *stifling laughter and pointing*: And I think I see history repeating itself

The other adults looked over to where Remus was pointing seeing that Remus was right

They could see Harry with a lovestruck look on his face as he talked to a young girl with wild brown hair and her obviously muggle parents

Sirius let out barking laughter as he watch little prongslet grab the girl and start dragging her over to them with her parents following the children, probably a bit worried about this strange boy taking their daughter away

Harry *dragging the girl over*: MUM! DAD! UNCLE PADFOOT! UNCLE MOONY! I want you guys to meet Hermione Granger!

James *trying to hide his laughter*: Hello Hermiome it's nice to meet you

Hermione *shyly*: Hello

The group of adults also introduced themselves to Hermione's parents as the two children continued to chat with eachother

Slowly the rest of the group started to join them with Harry introducing each boy to his new friend

Lily couldn't help but noticed that as Harry eagerly introduce Hermione to the other boys, he also had his arm wrapped around her the whole time not seeming to realize that he was doing it.

As the time came for the kids to board the train goodbyes were exchanged, hugs were shared, and tears were shed (James: They're not tears Lily! It's liquid bride!)

As the kids were about to board the train Harry turned to the Grangers wrapping his arm around Hermione's shoulders again

Harry: Don't worry about Hermione I'll take care of her

Hermione gets a bit of a sour expression on her face, turning to face Harry as his arm fell from her shoulders

Hermione: I am more than capable of taking care of myself

Harry's lovestruck expression returned

Harry: Of that I have no doubt

The two said their final goodbyes to the adults before boarding the train

The adults stayed on the platform watching as the Hogwarts Express drove out of sight

As the adult wave goodbye and the Granger's left the train station sighting the need to return to their dentistry practice and the other families left as well the Muraders burst into laughter

Lily*hitting James on the shoulder*: This is all your fault!

James *still laughing*: What?

Sirius: Don't be too hard on him Lily

Remus *shaking his head*: That poor girl has no idea what she just got drag into

James: Did you see her reaction to Harry's comment at the end? No, she isn't going to be drag into anything else so easily. She's a fighter I can tell

Lily: Well we'll just have to wait and see