#so he can provide a reference as a shifter who was turned

[tankshaw]

okay guys i know i say i want darlin to be besties with everyone but i NEED darlin to be besties with porter but in the way where they’re mean as fuck to each other but its also so obviously how much they care about each other

[onesmallcentury]

an abandoned wip

Good morning. Hoping this weekend provides me the needed recovery from the absolute circus that was my job this past week. Needless to say my coffee mug this morning is filled to the absolute brim.

Anyway, let me tell you a story; waaaay back in December, after the solstice party video that featured Sam, I had a burst of inspiration. I wanted to write a piece that made Sam reflect on what it meant to be a shifter’s mate. But based on the idea that he has no prior frame of reference for that sort of thing, I wanted him to analyze the other pack relationships, to help him better understand. 

So here’s my dilemma. I don’t like what I’ve written. I did, at one point, but now I’m incredibly annoyed with the order of things and I’ve pretty much resigned myself to scrapping the entire first part and starting over. 

But, before I do that, I figured I would at least throw it to the wind so someone else can have eyes on it before I scrap it. So surprise! The longest ever preamble for a wip that will evolve into something else entirely at some point in the future. Enjoy?

-

The cabin finally grew quiet as the last of the wolves made their exit. Sam had decided against joining the run - a bit too soon, he thought, taking part in something that felt so sacred when he'd only just met everyone. Besides, the connection between Darlin' and their packmates was still tenuous; they needed space, and time to settle in again. Hopefully running tonight would help further that along. 

Turning away from the door, he eyed the three people who remained in the main sitting room; two unempowered humans, and judging from the subtle misty aura, a Stealth. From his quiet corner of observation for the majority of the party, he'd come to learn that these were David, Asher, and Milo's mates. 

Watching them throughout the night had provided a good bit of entertainment, Sam had to admit. It appeared that the two unempowered humans were counterpoints to their mates; where David was stoic, his mate was effervescent; and where Asher was exuberant, his mate was steady. A balancing act, it seemed, and it was incredible to watch the way their energies ebbed and flowed around each interaction. Milo and his mate (the Stealth) however, were more like twin flames. Both spitfires in their own right, in constant competition yet always evenly matched. Much laughter had surrounded their light-hearted bickering throughout the evening. 

Sam didn't know much (or anything at all) about the relationship between a shifter and their 'mate'. How did they decide when a partner crossed that threshold? Was it voluntary, was it magical? He recalled the awkward moment where Asher had (mistakenly?) called Darlin' his mate, and he wondered what the beta had seen between them to make such an assumption. He thought again about the interactions between the mated pairs here tonight;

David and his mate (Angel, Sam had heard him say, though he knew that wasn't their name) were not so open in their affection - they had spent a good bit of the night apart, as David moved throughout the party playing host. Yet they always seemed to gravitate back to one another; the gentlest of looks Sam had ever seen David make were when his mate's hand found his arm. 

Asher and his mate didn't appear to have any qualms about public displays of affection, considering he spent the majority of the evening attached to them (not that they seemed to mind, of course). It was never over the top though - endearing, rather, the way they obviously adored each other's company. 

Milo and his mate were somewhere between the two; when they were together, they were always touching in some way - his hand in their pocket, their hand on his back, or simply fingers intertwined as they moved through the room. And in the few moments they were apart, their eyes were always glancing each other's way. 

So it was obvious that there was no one particular way that mated pairs seemed to interact. Perhaps he would speak on it with Darlin' later, he thought. If things between them were to grow more serious (and he allowed himself a modicum of hope), he would need to better understand the relationship between a shifter and their mate. He'd heard before that it was magical in some nature, but now seeing how it affected even the unempowered, he felt as lost as ever. He'd been human once himself, after all, though empowered. Would it be different between a shifter and a vampire?

Rousing himself from his inner monologue, he glanced back to the three in the sitting room. Asher and David's mates were seated beside one another on a sofa, discussing something on their phones. Milo's mate was nearby, but stood at the window, looking out. Stealths were also moonbound, he remembered, and he wondered if they felt the same comfort from the moon's gaze as the shifters seemed to. 

After turning, it had been quite an experience to adjust to the new ways his body reacted to the solstice. As a Freelancer, summer and winter had felt the same - yet now as a vampire, the difference was very clear. Even standing here now, he could feel the warm thrum of his core - his powers tingling at his fingertips. He felt like he had enough energy to run for days, and the strength to toss a car the same distance. 

"Sam?" He glanced up, startled, to see David's mate looking in his direction. They'd been just as kind to him this evening as David had been (and much less intimidating). In fact, every single member of the pack tonight had shown this human the same respect they showed David. 

"Do you want to come sit down?" They asked, gesturing to the chair near the sofa. Sam considered the offer, but anxious thoughts pressed at him, like a devil on his back. 

"That's kind, but…I wouldn't wanna intrude," he said politely. David's mate laughed softly, waving away the concern. 

Asher's mate smiled and added "It's not every day we get to have a conversation with a Vampire." While he knew they meant well, that particular sentiment only flustered Sam further. He hadn't even considered how two unempowered humans might feel in a cabin alone with a vampire at night. Not that Sam had any ill intentions, obviously, but…

"I..it might be better if I just um- stepped outside," he tried. Milo's mate turned from the window, regarding them all. Asher's mate looked a bit chagrined, but David's mate was unperturbed. 

"You don't have to worry, Sam. It would take much more than your polite southern charm to scare us - we all share a bed with a wolf, after all." they smirked. All three of them laughed, and Sam couldn't help but chuckle as well. It didn't escape him that he could be included in that group - though he'd really only shared a couch with his wolf as of yet. 

"Well…alright," he relented, walking over and taking the proffered seat. Milo's mate stepped over as well, taking the chair opposite. 

"We might be more afraid of our Investigator here, master of espionage," Asher's mate said, and Milo's mate grinned and raised a brow. They glanced to Sam and shook their head,

"Don't worry, I'm not armed when I'm off the clock." Sam recalled when he'd been introduced - they were a Department officer, and a formidable one at that. 

"Can't quite disarm your magic though, right? I can do a lick of cloaking myself, but nowhere near what I'm sure you're capable of," He offered. Because it wasn't only the invisibility that made a Stealth so dangerous, but also that they could mute their auras - rendering them completely undetectable. And Milo certainly hadn’t wasted a single chance to brag about his mate’s powers all evening. 

Milo's mate seemed pleased with the compliment, but before they could continue, a howl was heard from out in the night. Long and low - a powerful sound, and every head in the room turned toward the window. Judging from the way his mate's face lit up with a brilliant smile, Sam could assume it was David they were hearing. After a second, another howl joined, and then another, until a chorus of wolf cries echoed from the forest surrounding the grounds. And Sam, who had the best ears in the room, could hear more howls sounding from miles off - other packs, celebrating the solstice tonight as well. 

As the sound rang in Sam’s ears, it was quite clear that this was no normal wolf call. The very air seemed to shiver, and goosebumps pebbled across Sam’s arms, the hairs on his neck standing to attention. Again, Sam knew little to nothing about shifter’s magic apart from the transformation, but this was something else. It was like their howl had taken the vastness of the night and pulled it down to earth, until it surrounded them all in a velvety, star-lit blanket. 

“They’re sharing the strength,” Milo’s mate said suddenly, and Sam turned to them, surprised. They had a knowing look on their face, and Sam assumed he’d looked a little taken aback at the sensation. 

“The solstice heightens their powers, just like yours and mine. But when they’re all out there - shifted, together as a pack - they can make a connection, simultaneously fueling and borrowing one another's power, that strengthens them further. Almost like a bridge. And with their alpha at the head of it, it’s no wonder that the meridian itself is shaken up around us.” 

[callsign-mimic]

Meet Mimic!

(My CoD OC, not me lol)

Lieutenant Renee "Mimic" Foster

(Edit because I forgot to tag @charliemwrites so that Captain Castle Alistair has some idea as to why this creature is so skittish around him. And also so Charlie can squee about her more.)

Name: Renee "Mimic" Foster

Rank: Lieutenant

Aliases: Mimic, Bunny, Maus, Fawn, The Bard, The human equivalent of a Capybara

Official Callsign: Mimic

Age: 34

Gender/Pronouns/Sexuality: AFAB Agender, she/he/they (predominately uses she/her because it's easier and she doesn't actually give a fuck), Pansexual, Panromantic (Gender is meaningless to a mimic).

Marital Status: Officially Single, Unofficially has enough partners to start several sports teams.

Height: 5'6"

Weight: 250lbs of combined fat and muscle. Don't let her plush exterior fool you, she can and will throw down if she has to. She has plenty of thigh, tit, tum, and ass to be the perfect pillow as well. Built for cuddles, but can and will kick your ass.

Hair: Dark brown bordering on black, length ends just between shoulder blades, soft natural waves

Eyes: Pale blue, almost grey in color. Needs corrective lenses to see. Whether she uses contacts or glasses depends on mission requirements.

Personality/Quirks:

AuDHD. Inattentive and hella quiet. Loud, boisterous, and super expressive when hyper.

Wears a choke chain collar outside of missions. Is it a kink thing? No. She likes the weight of it and the sounds it makes when she moves. Can it be a kink thing? Absolutely.

Uncannily laid back and unbothered by most things. It takes a lot to make her angry. Rusty started comparing her to a capybara and often affectionately refers to her as "Capy".

Was in drama, choir, and band. Could definitely have gotten a considerably safer job as that voice actor that surprises you by being the voice of multiple completely different sounding characters.

Terrifyingly perceptive. Her peripheral vision is good enough that she can be sitting right next to a mark and not have to turn to look at them to give updates on their movements.

Practically a shape-shifter. Specializes in infiltration and espionage because she has the energy of an NPC and can integrate herself into most settings so well it just seems natural for her to be there. Need her to be sweet and bubbly? Done. Need an aggressive, short king with a Russian accent? She's got you. Surprisingly androgynous for someone with almost hyper-feminine features.

Fluent in English (native language), German, Russian, and Spanish. Teaching herself Japanese because she is an easily bored millennial weeb.

Sub leaning switch who can dish it out until her targets are puddles, but gets sheepish and flustered the minute she's given a genuine compliment (Stripper likes to make her a squirming mess by whispering praises into her ear while he has a tight hold around her waist. When she can't form proper words anymore is when the kisses start).

A ruthless, efficient killer on missions. Total prey animal off duty.

Sweet as. Will give you the shirt off her back if you need it. Always down to provide cuddles for comfort, a shoulder to cry on, or an ear to vent to.

Mom friend. Somehow ends up being the unofficial den mother of every team she works with (except her own, because Big Papa has the parenting handled for the three little goblins ❤️). She has zero issues with this.

The type of person who thinks being low maintenance is a good thing. Very rarely asks for help or support. Big Papa is the only person she (currently) trusts enough to let him take care of her. If you try to take care of her, she will make up some lame excuse to get away, or try to redirect your attention to something else.

Has all of the hobbies of a grandmother. Can knit, crochet, cross-stitch, embroider, sew, cook, and bake. Also does woodworking, works on cars, and makes weapons (yes, doing the forging and smithing herself). As previously stated, she gets bored easily.

Already has arthritis in her hands because she uses them pretty much nonstop.

[scribbleseas]

Unfiltered, Chapter 2: A Little White Lie

Description: You are a freshly graduated cadet of the 104th Training Corps with charisma and beauty to spare. Sleeping with three very different men pushes you into the center of the most complicated web of secrets and lies that can only be unraveled by one thing: the truth. The same truth that you hide at every turn to shield your carefully crafted exterior and the future of your unborn child.

Story Warnings: Explicit content: detailed descriptions of unprotected sex, really just a lot of sex, so if smut makes you uncomfy, this isn’t the fic for you! Accidental pregnancy, vomiting, cursing, slut-shaming, mentions of blood, angst with a bittersweet ending, hinted abandonment issues, mentions of a terminal illness.

Chapter Warnings: No chapter warnings that I can think of!

Author’s Note: Thank you for all of the support on the first chapter of this story! It was heartwarming to see.  (Also, Eren and the rest of the 104th are aged up in this fic!!)

Happy Reading!

- Dan

⇠ PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER ⇢

. . .

Daily training within the Scout Corps was rigorous on its own, but the added challenge of maneuvering with sore limbs and a battered core was excruciating, the pain nagging you with every step, a bitter reminder of your lack of orgasm and the same inappropriate argument with your superior. 

Everything about Captain Levi was infuriating- his indifference, the way he can simply ignore you outside of sex and orders. Sex and orders- was there even a difference between the two at this point? He couldn’t keep casting you off as an afterthought if he wanted this to continue, which he did. It was either you or a cold midnight jerk-off, and you knew he’d do anything to avoid the latter. Meanwhile, you had options and quite a few at that. 

Since the end of March, the weather was quickly picking up to a warmer, sunnier disposition- which meant training was outside once again. Squads were put into training groups, conversing with each other and going through warm-up drills while you took the time to subtly look over your comrades, searching for a proper candidate to dangle yourself in front of. 

You halfheartedly pulled your right arm across your body to appear busy to avoid a harsh scolding from a superior for being lazy. Out of all the scouts, the cadets from the 104th Training Corps were the best candidates, simply for their lack of prestige. Levi wouldn’t care if you picked any scout or any other officer, but you knew he’d notice if you liked someone that he considered below him. 

Someone he had yet to respect.

Particularly…

Your eyes landed on Eren Jaeger- a friend of yours and, fortunately, the titan shifter who Levi was tasked with keeping an eye on for the time being. Eren was always easily flustered- to the point you had suspected he had a crush on you during your training days. Reigniting those feelings with a smile and a few strategic touches should be more than enough to coax him into bed; sooner than later.

“Hey, Eren!” you chirped, approaching the shifter without entertaining another thought. He was conversing with his two closest friends- Mikasa and Armin when he was supposed to be training with Levi’s squad. “Mikasa, Armin,” you addressed, mainly to avoid being rude.

“Y/n, hey. How are you?” Eren grinned, his shoulders straightening as you stood before him, completing the subconscious triangle that he had made in the midst of conversation. You could feel Mikasa’s stare bear into your side profile, glaring. Her arms crossed before you approached, but her hands curled into firm firsts, tightening the longer you stood there. 

“Could you help me stretch?” You asked. “Yesterday’s training made me really stiff,” your words were half true since a lot of your body was sore and painful to maneuver, but it wasn’t from training. You were in pain from the toll that pleasuring Levi took as you vividly recalled his firm grip trapping your wrists down, and his body kept your leg up throughout the entire ordeal. 

A little white lie never hurt anyone.

“I would, but...” although you expected Eren’s response to be instantaneous, you had been wrong. Instead, the shifter looked from you to Squad Levi- where he needed to report to, conflicted between having free access to touching you and to his duty as a soldier. His will wasn’t that strong, given that he was only a pent-up eighteen-year-old guy when it came down to it. 

“Please,” you tilted your head, offering a meek smile to suggest that you were embarrassed to ask for help. “It’ll only be a few minutes.”

“I-” Eren, throat bobbed as he swallowed, blind to the concerned look that Armin was giving him. “Sure. What can I do?” He asked, his metaphorical armor falling to the ground. Confidence takes one a long way.

“Let’s go to the grass,” you suggested, gesturing to the large patch where other scouts were preparing for the day by also stretching, some in pairs.

“Alright- I’ll...see you guys at dinner,” Eren waved to Mikasa and Armin and quickly followed you as you led him to an empty spot. The spot was well in Levi’s view but far enough to give you plausible deniability. 

“We’ll save you a spot!” Armin yelled, his voice nearly out of earshot to you. He was referring to Eren, anyways. You sat with your class because you were the most familiar with them, not because you were a part of their close (top ten) band. 

“It’s mainly in my legs- I might’ve landed awkwardly at some point yesterday,” you mused, slowly laying down on the warm grass. The sun shined in your eyes, causing you to squint at Eren as he sank to his knees to avoid having too big of a gap between you. “Can you push my legs down?” you requested, bringing the soles of your brown boots together and a few inches away from your groin. 

“Oh, yeah. I’ve done this for..um, Krista, before...so I think I know what to do,” Eren’s face grew red as he kneed in front of you, his thighs clamping your feet in place, which kept your legs bent and fanned out. His hands were much larger than Levi’s and warmer, too, as they pressed down on the sides of your kneecaps, unintentionally teasing your lower thighs. Eren was too naive to know how to tease, and in all honesty, he was more gentle than you deserved. 

“That’s kind of you,” you commented, growing disinterested in the conversation and instead focusing on the delicious stretch that Eren was giving your hips and inner thigh muscles. He was staring down at his hands, focusing on the way your supple muscles moved and tensed each time he pushed down. You both knew that his hands were a little higher than they should’ve been for that particular stretch. “How about my quadriceps?” You gave Eren’s hands a soft tap, and he allowed you to move onto your stomach.

Eren’s breath hitched rather noticeably, and you imagined that his gaze was now trained on your ass, the definition of it clear from your tight uniform trousers. “You know what to do, right?” you asked, feigning complete ignorance as to what you were doing and how it affected him. 

“Oh- yeah, I do,” Eren moved slowly, his left hand coming down on your lower back first, flirting with the curve of your ass. His right took hold of your right kneecap. He slowly pulled the muscle upwards while pushing down on your back.

“Don’t let me kick you,” you joked to release a little of the building tension since your raised knee was bent under his lunging body, leaving the toe of your boot little ways under his chin. You rested on your elbows to support your upper body, taking the time to look to the side, where Levi watched you from his group. Watching was in fact, an understatement because his meticulous eyes narrowed, focused on the positioning of Eren’s hands. That expression caused satisfaction to bloom in your chest, the thrill comparable to the good pain that this stretch provided you.

Eren chuckled and, after a few more seconds, switched which leg he was stretching. You were flexible, and as tempted as you were to tell him that, you refrained. A little went a long way, and too much could scare him off. “I’m sure I could take you if you did,” Eren replied, pushing your back down firmly, causing your back to crack. It hurt, but ultimately, the sensation was euphoric- the closest to orgasm you’ve been in days.

The short whine that slipped past your lips made no effort to hide that fact. Although the sound (and volume) were unintentional, it caused a few people to look in your direction, driving your face to color. You pretended not to take notice of Levi’s glare and instead looked ahead of you as Eren switched legs. As shameless as you could be, even you had your limits, drawing the line around voyeurism. In an attempt to regain control of the situation, you laughed at yourself, praying that each chuckle sounded more natural than forced as you let your head dip.

“You really have done this before, haven’t you?” You teased, turning the heat back onto Eren, who faltered at the dirty insinuation. The noise of protest was more than enough confirmation that he hadn’t done anything beyond innocent stretching, which would make this much more fun for you. 

“That’s not-...come on, let’s get to our squads before Captain Levi gives me an earful,” Eren dismissed. You would have to be obtuse not to notice how his hands lagged in coming off your body- particularly the one that pushed down on your lower back. 

You were more likely to get an earful from Levi than Eren was, anyway.

“Oh, alright,” you said with a soft laugh, groaning as you got to your feet. The pain in your legs had yet to subside completely, but the dutiful stretching did help soothe it some. “Save me a seat in the mess hall later, yeah?” You requested, arching your eyebrows as you gave your shoulders a slow roll. 

“Uh- yeah, sure,” Eren stumbled over his words as you already began walking back towards your training squad, dispersing with the rest of the scouts that were using the large patch of grass to warm up for the hard day’s labor properly. 

. . .

Eren did indeed save a seat for you on his left side, Armin usually sat, but instead, the blond took the seat across from Eren without a problem. Mikasa merely watched you as you pulled out the chair, her face completely sober while you put your metal tray down in front of you with a soft clink.

“Hey guys,” you smiled, freshly showered, your hair tied back lazily. Despite having expended a year’s worth of energy on training in the heat, the food on your tray (a cut of bread and a little bowl of potato soup) was the last thing on your mind. Instead, you were more focused on formulating a plan.  A phase two, if you will.

“Oh- Y/n, hey,” Armin greeted you first, offering a wary smile as if he was trying to talk down a gunman. You weren’t sure if that was something to be offended by or not, seeing as Armin was a skittish soldier to begin with. 

“How did training go?” you decided to take his hesitance as a compliment, a testament to the strength of the faux certitude you expressed. Boldly sitting next to Eren was the key to this interaction, and if it went according to plan, you’d have him that night. That was record time when you compared it to the weeks of batting your eyelashes and flirting about you wasted on seducing Levi. Your crush on him was only physical, and he was the subject of the wettest of your dreams- seemingly impossible. The chase was supposed to be worth the quality of the catch, and yet, last night was the final straw.  “It wuzsh goof,” Eren answered for Armin, his mouth full with a bite of bread that he devoured. His cheeks bulged with it, but you suspected that he only intervened to remind you that he was there, as if you could forget. “Tirin-g,” he admitted, swallowing down the piece of it.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” Mikasa admonished from her seat on Eren’s right. She never spoke to you directly unless she had to for the legion, and as much as you tried in the past, she made no effort to budge. “You’ll choke.” 

“I won’t choke, Mikasa. I’m not a kid,” Eren argued defensively, his voice rising to subtly accuse her of not trusting his abilities. He sent her a fast glare that you wouldn’t have caught if you weren’t looking at him.

“They were pretty hard on us today,” you purposely changed the conversation back to the original topic to fill the silence that followed the awkwardly unbalanced dynamic of Eren and Mikasa. “Squad Leader Finn had my group do several rounds of interval training before we even touched our gear,” you complained, shuddering at the memory of the rocky soil pressing into your palms each time you pushed your legs back to plank.  The skin was raw and pink, and it particularly stung when you exposed it to lukewarm shower water and bar soap.

“They’re just trying to keep us sharp. You know titans are always more active during the spring and summer,” Eren said, “Section Commander Hanji hasn’t let up with her experiments, though. She asked me for a lock of my hair this morning.”

“I think that’s pretty tame for Section Commander Hanji,” you joked, breaking off a flake of the crusty outer layer of the bread to prop in your mouth. It was primarily stale, but you appreciated the warmth that seeped on your tongue. 

“She could’ve made an even cut,” Eren mumbled as he finished off his cut of bread, gesturing to his sideburn, where there was indeed a chunk of his brown hair missing. 

You chuckled at the comment as some of the other cadets from your grade populated the long table- Connie Springer was making some shoddy impression of Commander Erwin. At the same time, Sasha Blouse nearly dropped her tray of food from laughter, utterly with Jean Kirsten rolling his eyes at their antics. Even Reiner Braun and Bertholdt Hoover took to the isolated end of the table to speak to each other, albeit Reiner’s gaze traveling to Krista Lenz every handful of seconds. Your comrades were very predictable on a day-to-day basis, which was one of the many reasons why you weren’t close with most of them. People tended to bore you quickly, which left something to be desired, more often than not. 

The conversation at this dining table rarely included you, as you preferred to sit passively and wait for the exact moment to make your next move, which was slightly less predictable than your interaction that morning. 

You picked up your soup bowl, the metal circumference small enough for you to be able to wrap your hands around it and have your fingers touch. The soup itself was watered down and bland as you thoughtlessly swirled it around with the bottom of your spoon, frowning at it. Before your mother left, she made it with heavy cream and tiny slivers of smoked bacon. The only thing that had in common with the food sitting in front of you was the use of potatoes. 

Rather than dwelling on that woman, you turned your sights back to Eren. Getting him to want you was a goal you concluded that morning and now, you only needed him to act on it. Which he wouldn’t without your provoking him.

Purposely, you fumbled with the bowl of watery ‘soup’ and watched it fall, the warm contents spilling down your shirt and landing on Eren’s lap from your proximity. Since the rest of the table was engaged in watching Connie attempt to impersonate Oluo Bozado, a member of Levi’s Squad. Until the sound of your metal bowl hitting the floor (as well as your surprised yelp) caught their attention.

“I’m so sorry. I wasn’t paying any attention,” you explained, instantaneously rounding your eyes to make your apology seem entirely genuine. Mikasa glared at you before sharing a look with Armin, who widened his eyes to alert her that you had caught on. You did not attempt to press. 

Eren’s frustrated expression quickly melted as he looked from his lap to you. “It’s just soup, Y/n. It’s fine,” he grinned, evidently attempting to lift some of the guilt as you picked up a napkin to try to blot the soup on your shirt. 

“I don’t think it’ll stain if we clean it off now,” you put the crumpled napkin on your tray, next to the empty bowl. “Let’s go to the washroom,” you suggested, motioning to the way the napkins had only absorbed the soup rather than removing the dark grey stain that was left.

“You’re probably right about that,” Eren gave his lap one final look before standing up with you, your dominant hand coming to wrap around his wrist to establish physical contact. 

“We’ll be right back,” you chirped nonchalantly, quite literally, leading the titan shifter through the middle of the mess hall. A fast glance over your shoulder revealed Mikasa starting to get up to follow, but Armin gently patted her forearm to make her sit back down. Her instincts knew better than his, but she seemed to write hers off as her usual overprotective tendency for Eren. You doubted she wanted to be scolded for it again.

The unofficial ‘Superiors’ Table’ was the closest to the entrance of the mess hall, the table formation resembling a simple cafeteria in many rows of horizontal tables, which made it easy for Levi to watch you and Eren pass him. For a moment, you locked eyes with him and offered a chaste smile to deepen the blow. The way you held Eren’s wrist as he trailed you was a signature tell of a quickie- you’d done it to Levi countless times, and now he was recognizing it as a bystander.

A slight dip of your chin expressed that you were completely serious about using Eren to make him envious. If this didn’t teach him, then you were positive nothing would.

. . .

[kadeunpc]

the life of a barbarian;

An orphan in Clubs is less of a rarity and more of a staple. Some are taken in by kindly neighbors, others by calculating adults with ill intentions, but most are left to fend for themselves. Orphanages in practice if not in name are relatively common, and this story begins in one of them.

A small boy, old enough to walk but not to speak, appears on the doorstep of one such household accompanied by no one. The older children, used to new blood appearing in this fashion, take him inside to protect and raise him as brother just as their siblings had done for them. A house full of Club children with no guardians outside of the few teenagers who stuck around is a wild place to grow into adulthood. Fights were common, education near absent, but a warm home with others just like you is a better place to grow than the streets.

When he is old enough to question the world he asks one of his older sisters why he does not have a name. “Parents usually name kids, an’ you haven’t got any,” she replies bluntly, too busy trying to figure out how she’ll find the food to feed the budding shifter to care much for gentleness. “If you wan’a name you’ll haf’ta think’a one yourself.”

He ponders the issue. When others talk about him, they call him “HIM”, putting particular emphasis on the word. So isn’t that already his name? He decides it is, and though some of his siblings say his new name is stupid, they all smile when they say it, so he’s happy enough.

HIM grows quickly, eating far more than his siblings, even the older ones. Eventually, once he’s big enough, they tell HIM it’s time for him to get a job. Suspecting he is a shifter given the complaints of his siblings about his food intake, HIM harasses an old hunter in their neighborhood until he takes HIM on as an apprentice.

As his skill with axes and bows improves, HIM eventually becomes a hunter in his own right. Not only does he hunt enough to feed himself and his makeshift family, he’s eventually able to start selling the excess to bring in some coin. It is during this time period he confirms he is, in fact, a shifter. Luck and skill allow him to take down a dire bear, and after that it is a rare thing for him to be injured.

Never having learned maths nor how to read, HIM is taken advantage of by a few merchants around this time. When he catches on to the severe underpayments he’s been receiving, quite a few butchers go missing and a number of shops are destroyed.

It’s a poor part of town, in Clubs, so rather than confront the boy on the brink of manhood about his actions, the adults teach him. Reading is beyond his ability to care, but he latches onto maths and commerce. It takes less than a year for the man to amass a small fortune. He’s moved out of his childhood home, but he still provides the children living there with food. Eventually, growing weary of hunting daily, he looks for a new way to earn money.

He loans out his fortune: a bit here to help start a business, a bit there so a family can buy a bigger home. When the time comes for him to be paid back, there are few who try to fight back against him, and fewer still who live to tell the tale. While HIM has never been nor will he ever be the smartest man on the block, his ruthlessness and his strength have made him the poster boy for a rags to riches story. 

Years pass, he enters the Spade Arena fights out of boredom and a desire for greater wealth. He wins, he’s the champion, he’s the best in the city... except he isn’t. Keahi Hilo, the prodigy. The strongarm avoids the Arena but HIM corners the other man for a fight back in Clubs, and he loses. They were both Kings so HIM didn’t lose rank, but as friendly competition turns into jealousy a cloud begins to cover him. He soothes his darkness with drink and warm bodies until he is always with one, the other, or both. 

One of these bodies tastes sweet, too sweet. HIM is addicted but it’s not to the man beneath him, it’s to the chrono the other has introduced to his system. It’s during this time his fights become more violent and he earns the title he can never get away from: The Barbarian. 

Addiction grows and logic fades. He’s on a bender when he contracts a witch to take care of his little problem. As Keahi Hilo loses status HIM finds he is not at all satisfied with this victory, because he was not the one bring about the man’s end. His thirst for power fades as he wallows in his own misery and attempts to change. He tries to find the witch again, to get her to reverse what she’s done, but she’s overdosed on chrono and left this world.

He can’t look at himself anymore.

Trying to find who he once was, he visits the home he’s long since ceased helping. The building’s been purchased and the children chased out. The old man who taught him how to hunt died years ago. HIM wants to do something, to change, but he cannot allow himself to become Ace. He does not deserve the rank, not after what he did, so he’ll have to find a different way. Fluctuating wildly between would-be messiah and the neighborhood addict, many in the city cannot decide whether they should idolize him or use him as an example of everything wrong with Clubs.

He funds the resistance, donating his monthly winnings from the Arena as well as a percentage of his underworld gains to help their cause. He donates through proxies, a new one every month so they never realize just how much he’s given them. Perhaps if rankings didn’t exist, men like him wouldn’t step on their brothers to get a leg up. He opens up real orphanages through further proxies still, paying people to take care of the city’s neglected children. He can’t kick his chrono habit, but he does his best to cut back. He’s still a loan shark, but only because he’s in too deep to get out. At least, that’s what he tells himself in his clearer moments, when the red hazing his eyes cools his head and reminds him of his ledger.

The corruption comes to Kadeu. He takes care of his own people and uses his power over the underworld to put pressure on others, forcing contributions to help fix the broken outer wall. He plucks natural-born leaders from their communities and funds their causes, knowing he’s burned too many holes in his own brain to lead the Clubs. His men start referring to themselves as the Barbarians; it’s supposed to be a sign of loyalty so they don’t earn his ire by taking credit for the work he funded, but none of them know how much he hates that name.

Days fill up with decisions he doesn’t want to make. People who should hate him look at him with eyes that beg him to take further action. Even strung out of his mind on chrono he could win a fight against Thagard, he could become the Ace, restore order to the city. Some make excuses for him while others begin to question why they’ve chosen to follow. He doesn’t want this responsibility, he never did. He hired leaders to do these things for him but they keep trying to make him approve plans. He was never supposed to be a real leader, he was only ever meant to be the figurehead so the target would be on his back rather than those crucial to the stability of the faction.

Where had it all gone wrong? Thagard had been a worse Ace than he’d thought, but was it the other shifter’s actions to blame or HIM’s own failure to truly lead? How many water elementalists had died because of that idiotic arrest order? How many business would go belly up thanks to the food requisition orders? Rather than devastate families who ran businesses essential to the Club economy, HIM had placed the burden of food rationing on everyone’s shoulders regardless of station. If he had taken the burden of being Ace, how many more people would be alive? How many more businesses would be able to see the light at the end of the tunnel?

It was too late now, he wasn’t the leader the people needed then, how could they trust him to be the leader they deserved now? Making himself the figurehead of this ramshackle organization of barbarians may have been the worst decision he’d ever made. He wasn’t the man anyone wanted nor the leader the Clubs required, but he knew who was. 

Without a word to his followers he shifts into an eagle and, claws digging into the windowsill of his hideout, he sets off for the Keahi residence.

[texastheband]

Texas V Wu-Tang Clan

Interview by Steven Daly Photography by Peter Robathan Taken from The Face - December 1997

It’s the pop story of ’97, the most unlikely end to a weird year: TEXAS collaborating with the WU-TANG CLAN. First, a Scottish rock band on the verge of slip-sliding away into a tasteful obscurity was reborn via a slew of hit singles and a glut of stylish imagery. Now, in New York, their Brit-cool meets hip hop in a mutually beneficial deal. For everyone concerned, it’s all they need to get on…

Sharleen Spiteri took the call in her front hall. "Yo, Peach," growled a strange voice over transatlantic wires. The gentleman caller was none other than Ol’ Dirty Bastard, court jester of New York hip hop dynasty the Wu-Tang Clan. Apparently Mr Bastard fancied working with Spiteri and her band, Texas. It all started in August, with one of Texas’ managers discussing Land Rovers with someone called Power in New York, who turned out to be the manager of the Clan. A video of Texas’ "Say What You Want" was dispatched, and prodigiously gifted Wu-Tang chieftain RZA signed on to do a re-recording of the single for a prospective single project. Original rapper OI’ Dirty Bastard was replaced by Method Man, the next Clan member with a solo album scheduled.

The hook-up with the Wu-Tang Clan is the perfect climax to a year that’s seen Texas rise from a tumbleweed-strewn grave to grab the pole position in British Pop. A year in which Glasgow’s Sharleen Spiteri has stared out, defiantly remade and remodelled, from every magazine cover and TV show. From a media point-of-view, Texas’ – Spiteri’s – reconfiguring of music and fashion has been the year’s dream ticket. Ever since Bryan Ferry took the innovative step of getting Anthony Proce in to design Roxy Music’s wardrobe in the early seventies, successive phases of pop’s history have thrown up performers who use the fashion photographers, stylists and designers du jour to present The Package. It is these performers who most often capture the youthful mood of their time: that’s why you can see the vulgar glamour of the Seventies in the cut of Ferry’s sleazy lounge-lizard jib; the naive aspiration of the early Eighties in the box-suited and pixie-booted "style" of Spandau Ballet; and the onset of the late-Eighties mixing and matching of different cultures in Neneh Cherry’s Buffalo Stance. When we look back at 1997 we will see in Texas’ sound and vision a new mix, all to do with living the high life but keeping it real. Catwalk and street, the designer and the understated, Prada and Nike; the slick and the cred. Ten years’ gone Scottish guitar outfit and this season’s bright young labels (in both senses). The setting too, has helped. Fashion, again, is big cultural business. Clever pop stars (Goldie! Liam!) want to be seen by the runway and hanging out at fashion parties; young designers yearn to be visible on the stage or the podium (viz. Antonio Berardi’s autumn London show at Brixton Academy). Factor in a paucity of self-motivating, button-pressing, songwriting, photogenic women in British music, and you have a ready-made media phenomenon.

Sharleen Spiteri is holding court at a New York restaurant with a gang of Calvin Klein employees who’ve just accompanied her to the VH-1 Fashion Awards. The annual ceremony is a mutually convenient arrangement, a TV cluster-fuck where the music and fashion industries exchange credibility and cachet. Texas are contemplating just such an exchange themselves, having recently been given the OK by CK. (Tommy Hilfiger has also made overtures.) Spiteri is to have an audience with Klein himself; she’s already been bribed with a trunkful of CK merch, including the streaked black dress – "inspired by [the artist] Brice Marden" – she’s wearing tonight.

Someone suggests that Texas would be perfect for Fashionably Loud, an MTV special where models strut on stage as the hot bands of the moment rock out. "Forget it," quips Spiteri. "there’s only room for one star up where we play." If Spiteri were to join Kate Moss and Christy Turlington on the Calvin Klein payroll it would not, as she sees it, detract from Texas’ music. "Fashion and music have always been connected, and now more than ever," says the singer. "You couldn’t have one without the other. If there’s shit music at a runway show it just doesn’t work."

Meanwhile, there’s the songs. With "White On Blonde", Texas’ fourth album, the music takes care of itself. Radio-friendly unit-shifters abound, helped on their way by producers Mike hedges (manic Street Preachers) and Manchester’s Grand Central. The singles have been, in sequence, nu-soul fresh ("Say What You Want"), springy pop ("Halo"), Motown-sunny ("Black Eyed Boy") and winter warming ("Put Your Arms Around Me"). The B-side remixers have covered all bases in these dance-savvy late Nineties, ranging from of-the-moment talents like the Ballistic Brothers and Trailerman to old stand-bys like Andy Weatherall and 808 State. Texas, patently, lost their dancefloor cherry by cherry-picking the brightest and the best.

Of course, while the singles have all enjoyed heavy airplay and gone top ten, and while "White on Blonde" has sold two million copies (more than its two predecessors put together), the remixes haven’t necessarily helped those sales. As the go-faster stripes of credibility on the solid saloon car, though, they’ve still been essential to The Package; all part of the thoroughly modern mix.

So now, the Wu-Tang Clan. To many, though, this latest development could smack of opportunism. One group are renegade roughnecks who mythologise themselves in epic hip hop anthems; the others are fastidiously tasteful Scots with an eye for perfectly modern consensus-pop. The Wu-Tang Clan are certainly among the aesthetically correct names that Texas always drop in interviews, but can there possibly be a legitimate connection between the two? "A lot of the Wu-Tang backing tracks have the feel of soundtracks, and we’ve always gone for a cinematic sound," says Johnny McElhone, Spiteri’s genial songwriting partner and bass player. "And I’ve always liked Al Green, and they use a lot of Willie Mitchell, Al Green, that whole Hi Records sound, and make it modern. And Marvin Gaye: Method Man, in that duet with Mary J. Blige, used ‘You’re All I Need To Get By."

Having dominated the charts in Europe this year, Texas are now, logically, turning their attention to America: the country that has always inspired them, whether it’s the dusty, pseudo-roots sound of their first three albums, or the iconic-soul and post-soul sounds of Memphis and Staten Island that they give props to now; the place where success has always eluded them. Yet given the commercial momentum of "White on Blonde", their approach to the Wu-Tang Clan is surely not driven by desperation. They are, then, viewing the collaboration with a combination of fan-like wonder and disbelief.

"Method Man is just a wicked, wicked rapper," enthuses Spiteri. "I can’t wait to hear the combination of my vocals and his – I‘m really excited about it. I have a kind of sweet, virginal thing going on, and he’s got this dirty sex vibe. It could be the perfect marriage."

It’s a Saturday night in Manhattan, and ten storeys above Times Square, Sharleen Spiteri sits on the floor of a recording studio, tinkering with her latest high-tech gadget, a Philips computer about the size of a TV remote. Across the street, three ten-foot high electronic ticker-tapes provide testimony to Monday’s stockmarket crash. No matter how much Spiteri plays with her new toy, there’s still that nagging worry: what if the Wu-Tang Clan won’t show? They’re supposed to be on a tour bus returning from a gig in Washington, DC today, but these, after all, are the original masters of disaster. The crew whose normal modus operandi seems to be chaos. The band that recently quit a national tour because only five of the nine members could be relied upon to turn up.

The studio has been booked since six, so Spiteri and McElhone breathe signs of relief when RZA and his posse finally roll in around ten. Among the dozen-strong throng, they’re surprised to see Wu-Tang member Reakwon, a stout fellow with a Mercedes cap and a Fort Knox of gold dental work. Several cigars are hollowed out, their contents replaced with weed; bottles of Cristal champagne and Hennessy are passed around as the air grows thick with smoke.

Half an hour later, method Man makes his entrance. Stooped over, he looks deceptively short – maybe only six-four in his Hilfiger fleece hoodie. "I’m John-John," he tells Sharleen, referring to his alias, Johnny Blaze. Pulling out the big blunt from behind his ear, Method Man considers the job at hand. "She got a nice voice," drawls the laconic giant. "This band not exactly my type of listening material, but they going in the right direction, if you ask me, by fucking with us. I’m waiting for RZA to put down a beat, hear how the vocals sound melded with the track before I come with ideas. I’m one of those guys."

As his friends get on with the serious business of partying, RZA goes to work, feeding a succession of sample-laden discs into a sampler. He has a diffident, genius-at-work charisma about him as he sits with his back to the room, keyboard at side. With a flick of his prodigiously ringed hand he reaches out and conjures up a brutal bassline. The speakers pulse violently. RZA takes a sip of Hennessy. "Record this, right here!" he tells the bewildered-looking engineer.

RZA has decided to dispense with the original master tapes, shipped over from Britain. He wants a completely new version, recorded rough-and-ready without the standard safety net of a time-code. This convention-trashing, wildstyle approach to recording elicits some consternation from the studio’s engineer, a central-casting white guy who warns RZA: "You won’t be able to synch to this, you know." RZA waves him away and turns to Johnny McElhone. "This riff is in E," McElhone tells RZA. "Maybe we should try it in the original key, D." "What are you saying? I understand no keys," says RZA. "You want me to sing the whole song straight through?" asks Spiteri, trying to divine RZA’s intentions. He orders the lights turned down, and offers Sharleen some herbal inspiration. She politely declines and walks to the vocal booth. "What’s her name? Sheree?" asks RZA as Spiteri warms up. The engineer wants to know if he should maybe start recording. "Always record everything!" exclaims RZA. "Ready, get set, go! Play and record, play and record!" Spiteri rattles of a perfect new version of ‘Say What You Want’, grooving along by herself and passionately acting out every word, even the ones borrowed from Marvin Gaye’s ‘Sexual Healing". Now it’s time for Method Man, who at this point is so herbally inspired that he can hardly open his eyes. He jumps up and lopes around the main room, running off his newly written rhymes and clutching a bottle of Crystal. Method walks up to the mic and opens his mouth, and that treacly baritone sets a typically morbid scene: "Fifteen men on a dead man’s chest…" The Texas duo just look at each other, shaking their heads in awe.

The hours and the rhymes pass. Around 6am, things are starting to get a little weird. As Method Man snoozes on the sofa, RZA bounces off the walls, dancing like a dervish. "These are the new rhythms," he yells. "These are the new dances from Africa. I learned them when I was there last week!" McElhone and Spiteri crack up. The engineer probably wishes he were in Africa right now; he further draws RZA’s ire by making a mistake as he runs off some rough cassettes. As everyone says goodbye, RZA decides that he’s taking the studio’s sampler – he already has two of the $3,500 items, but at this point it’s all about the wind-up. The engineer, though, having last seen the end of his tether a good few hours ago, has had enough. By the commencement of office hours that morning, the rest of the session will have been cancelled and the band and Clan banned from this studio.

After a few frantic phone calls later that morning, a studio is found that is prepared to let the Wu-Tang Clan through the door. With one precondition: only two of them are allowed in the studio. Now it’s midnight, and four-fifths of Texas watch a trio of RZA-hired session men go through their paces. They shift effortlessly through a handful of soul and funk styles, and the Scots mutter approval. These are the kind of players that are so good they can get away with wearing questionable knitwear.

Soon, another couple of Wus pop in. Then another couple. In the control room RZA orders up a bottle of Hennessy and talks about hearing "Say What You Want" for the first time. "I didn’t fully understand the sound of it," admits the soft-spoken maestro. "It was obviously a popular song, a radio song, and my sound is the total opposite. But I thought that the artist had something, so I thought: "Let’s take her and rock her to my beat."

"Sweet soul, that’s what her stuff sounded like to me. Smooth. It reminded me of the Seventies: in those days, they did songs that would fit anywhere. If you went to a club getting high it would fit; if you was cleaning up your house it would fit. That’s when you’ve got a real great song right there." Whether or not "Say What You Want" is a great song, it’s not quite coming together tonight. Despite the best offers of the studio management, a full complement of Wu posse members ended up in the house. As the night drags on the trio of musicians don’t get with the track, and by eight the following morning there is little in the way of usable material. But everyone stays upbeat. Texas will work on the track in Glasgow, and send it back to RZA to finish, along with a new song based around one of his samples. After vowing to stay in touch, everyone stumbles out into the Manhattan morning light together, the Scots with an American name, and the Clan without a tartan.

From a distance the collaboration will continue. But it’s only a different kind of distance. Culturally, creatively, the gap between the Wu-Tang Clan and the old twang clan is considerable. Yet so it goes, this cross-cultural exchange programme. Whether it’s The Stones copping blues movies, Bowie digging the Philadelphia Sound, Lisa Stansfield getting soulful with Barry White, Sting getting doleful with Puff Daddy… Whether it’s Todd Terry reviving Everything But The Girl or Armand Van Helden making Sneaker Pimps the unwitting jumpstarters of speed garage, naked opportunism and risk-taking innovation have always been confused. Now, with genres blurred and tricknology proceeding apace, anything is possible and everything is permitted. Perhaps it is this, the sheer unlikeliness, that makes the Texas-Wu experiment the most illuminating collaboration of the year. Whether it works or not.

"If you play her stuff in a club, everybody be dancing, but it’s a clear room and you can see everybody’s face," RZA reflects on the departing Sharleen Spiteri. "But if you play mine, the room is smoky." And perhaps it is here, among the clouds and the clarity, between the smoke and the mirrors, where a new sound and vision lies.

Text originally posted on texasindemand.com

[supernaturallyobsessedchic]

The Last Night

Paring: Dean x Reader

Warning: Angst, mentions of depression, major fluffy ending

Summary: after a hunt gone wrong, and after a heated argument, the reader is feeling like things would be better off if she were gone. Dean has to do everything he can to prove her wrong.

Word count: 1300-ish

Masterlists

I post randomly, hope you enjoyed. :)

A/N: Kind of based off of my favorite band Skillet, their song The Last Night.

~

Dean was never the type of person to talk about feelings, especially his own.

I knew something was up when he just stopped giving me kisses, like he’d kiss me good night. Or, hugs especially after the rough hunts. Now, he doesn’t even bat an eye.

What did I do wrong? Was it me?

I need to ask, it wouldn’t hurt to ask, right? I thought.

He sat in the library, nursing a beer, watching something on his laptop.

“Dean?” I asked. He doesn’t respond verbally. I know he heard me; the man isn’t deaf.

[pov change]

“Can I ask you something?” she asked.

He didn’t even move, but he heard her.

“What…” she began to ask. She can read he’s upset, he’s tense. She doesn’t know how to approach him. Never really could have figured out how. She didn’t want him to blow up.

She sighs. “I’m sorry.” She says.

He doesn’t move. But his face, confusion with a furrow brow would have been visible to her. debating on if he should turn to face her. Face the music.

“I don’t know, what I did to make you hate me so much. I know I’m not the prettiest, or the strongest…or anything really. I’m just, me. Weak, pathetic.”

He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Where was this coming from? She wasn’t weak, or pathetic. She was the strongest hunter he knew. And the most gorgeous girl he’d met ever in his life.

“I’m sorry if I had been burdening you guys. I’ll, leave in the morning or something and you won’t worry about me anytime soon.” She says.

It goes quiet behind him. That’s when he turns around. She’s not there.

He can feel his heart racing in his chest, panic. She’s going to leave. He has to fix this.

He doesn’t want her to leave. No.

The argument before hand, didn’t help.

-

“It’s okay Kate, mistakes happen.” Sam says. As they rounded the house where they had lost the shifter.

She had tripped on a whole, rolling her ankle and spraining it. Sam walks over to help her up.

“Where is he?” Dean asks, running up the opposite of Sam.

“Lost him.” Sam says.

“Sorry Dean, I didn’t see the hole and I tripped.” She says.

“Sorry, we lost him because of you!” Dean shouted.

“Dean!” Sam shouted to snap Dean out of it.

“That’s the second time that’s happened, she’d trip, get caught and we’d have to save her and end up losing it again. it’s always her. She’s not a good enough hunter.” He shouted.

“Dean I’m sorry!” Y/N shouted, tears surfacing.

“Tell that to the family that’ll die by that shifter you lost.” Dean glared down at her, getting in her face.

Sam steps in.

“Dean, that’s enough. Accidents happen. We’ll find him. Now, arguing with Y/N isn’t going to help find him. Now lets get going. The sooner we find him, the sooner we can kill him and go home.” Sam says.

“After this, you’re done. From now on, you’re doing research. Sam and I will do the foot work. You have done nothing but screw up since you joined us. You’ve been doing nothing but burdening us, slowing us down.” Dean shouts.

“Dean! Enough!” Sam shouts.

Y/N remained silent as she limps back to the Impala.

-

Dean curses himself. That’s why she feels she’s a burden. I need to shut up sometimes. He thought.

Dean neared her room and he could hear her cries. Loud and pained. He really did it now.

“What is wrong with me?” he heard her ask. “Why do I keep doing this?” she went on.

“Maybe I should just end it, once I leave I’ll just put myself and everyone around me out of their misery.” He heard her say.

His heart sank.

She was going to kill herself once she left.

Like hell I’m gonna let you leave here to die. He thought.

He ran to the kitchen, and started making her, her favorite peppermint tea. And even got into her stash of chocolates, once her tea was made he took that and the candy and headed to her room.

He knocked softly on her door. There was no response.

She laid partially on her stomach and side, curled into a ball. Making his heart sink even more.

No words were exchanged, she was still crying but it was silent and dying off.

Poor girl, cried herself to sleep. Dean thought. As he got a good look at her, her eyes were closed as if she were asleep.

But knowing she was still in some way awake; he took this time to apologize.

“Sweetheart, I am so, so sorry.” He says.

“It’s not you, you’re not burdening us. You’re not a bad hunter. Mistakes happen. I’m not perfect either. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you like I did. All I did was hurt you.” He says, as he gently rubs along her back.

He remembers what he heard her say. ‘I’ll put myself and everyone around me out of their misery.’

The tears began to surface in his eyes, and a sob tore at his throat.

The sob, jolted her awake, but he didn’t seem to notice. She see’s him cover his mouth, to silence his cries. She can see the pained expression on his face.

“Please don’t leave.” He says through the sobs. “I’m sorry for hurting you, I was scared. I love you so damn much it hurts. I didn’t want you to get hurt because of me, because of this life. I’m not someone who can give you the world, you deserve better. You don’t deserve me sweetheart.” He says.

But you do deserve me. She thought. Her love is what softened him up. that’s what opened him up in the first place to her, to the good night kisses, the hugs, the cuddles. She gets it now.

“I don’t want you to end your life because you think you don’t matter to us, or you’re not enough. Sweetheart, you are enough. You matter to me, and Sammy. I mean, who’s going to nerd out with him when you two go to the bookstore? Who’s going to make us a home cooked meal? Because your casseroles are, to die for sweetheart. Who am I going to cuddle with after a nightmare?” he goes.

She moves to sit up, she sees him stiffen. “I really do matter to you that much?” she asked softly.

“You got no damn clue what affect you had on me, still do.” He says. Turning to face her. Cheeks stained with tears. She reaches a hand up to cup his cheek, wipe any stray tear that fell.

“Sweetheart, I’m so, so sorry.” He says. Closing his eyes, relishing in her touch.

“I forgive you. But next time, talk. Please. You are the only person who can keep those demons out of my head.” She says. “I do deserver you. And you do deserve me. Don’t think you deserve less.” She adds.

Quick, acting on instinct, his lips crash into hers. She was quick to reciprocate the kiss. His hand reaches the back of her neck, pulling her close deepening the kiss.

They finally broke out of the kiss, catching their breath.

“Let me know if those demons come back, I’ll help you fight them.” He says. “This will be the last night you feel alone.” He adds. “I’ll wrap you up in my arms, and I won’t let go.” He does as he says. Wrapping her up, making her giggle. Because she knows those words. Words from her favorite band Skillet, the song ‘The Last Night.’

“And let me know if you ever feel scared again, I’ll make damn sure I’m not going anywhere.” She says. “And let me know if you wanna jam out to Skillet Dean, I think there are some songs you would like.” She adds.

“I sure will sweetheart.” He says.

For the first time, she saw him smile. A genuine smile. For the first time, Dean Winchester can be happy with the woman he loves.

FEEDBACK IS FUEL, LEAVE AN ASK OR A COMMENT, ANYTHING OF WHAT YOU THOUGHT. :)

~

Copying and reposting someone else’s content is plagiarism and illegal. This work is property of supernaturallyobsessedchic. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. These works contain material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of these works may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher. An electronic reference link to the original posted work may be provided for purposes of promotion or assistance of publication by the readers discretion, if proper credits are given to the author in the re-post. 09/6/2020

~

Dean tag list:

- @pandazombie69

- @luci-in-trenchcoats

- @supernatural-jackles

- @becs-bunker

[robbiekaysfavoritelostgirl]

The Hybrid: Part Seven

Find all the parts HERE

Pairing: Jacob Black x Jessica Cullen

          Edward Cullen x Jessica Cullen

           Edward Cullen x Bella Swan

Plot: You are the last witch of your kind, you were turned after you vampire father decided to get back at your mother. In a effort to throurt him your grandmother transferred the magic of the entire coven over to you, so that when you woke a vampire you would have access to your magic but had the speed, heightened senses and immortality . After a century you meet Carlisle and agree to join his family. Everyone thought that you and Edward were going to end up married until he met Bella. You were left heartbroken until you meet a certain wolf.

Fandom: Twilight

A/n: So this is what inspired my story “The Hybrid” so I had to do it. Also the pairing only refers to the certain part. The pairings crossed out are the ones that will come in another part. The majority of this series will take place during Eclipse. Please note that everything in italics is a flashback.

Important! I have made some changes to parts three and two, they are minor but important. So you do not have to re read them, unless you want too, I will briefly explain. After some thinking I decided that the twins are going to be equally as powerful. Which means that Jessica is also a shape shifter and Nik can us magic just as well as his sister. Demetri will also be playing a key role but I go into more detail in this imagine. You will also get to see just how powerful the twins are.

Announcement: While writing this Niklaus and Davina have gained a special place in my heart and as a result I have started writing a book called “The Hybrid and the Dark Beginning” which will follow my new found favorite twins! As you probably guessed, this will be very different from the series and completely  my own! Though I do promise to continue with this series, as I have more in store for the Cullen’s and the twins! If you are interested in reading my book, please head over to my Wattpad where you can find the first chapter up already! Thank you for all the feedback and love that I have gotten for the “The Hybrid” series and I hope that you will enjoy the book as well! 

https://www.wattpad.com/story/209806715-the-hybrid-and-the-dark-beginning

      “Do you mind if I sit with you?” I asked, smiling softly down at Bella. She was sitting off to the side, out of sight of the lessons happening. She stared at me for a moment before nodding, patting the ground beside her softly. I fell onto the ground gracefully beside her, smiling as Jake curled himself around us. “I am sorry I was so distant and rather rude. I was angry at fate and things that are outside anyone's control. I had no right to be that way and I hope that you don’t hate me.” 

    “I don’t, Edward explained everything, after you left the first time. I would be upset too if the person I had been together with for over 100 years suddenly dumped me for someone else.”

   “You are too kind. I am sure you would have handled it better than I did.” I chuckled, smiling softly at her. 

   “Maybe. Are you going to fight?” She asked, nodding towards the sounds of our family, man that was going to take some getting use to, were practicing. 

    “No. I will be at the clearing though. I promised that I would spend the fight circling the clearing as a hawk. Emmett doesn’t want me on the ground because he feels like I would ruin the fight if I got involved.” I chuckled at that, shaking my head at the thought. 

     “Won’t Niklaus be fighting? If so won’t he ruin the fight because he can do magic too?” Bella asked, her brows furrowed at the thought. 

    “He will be yes but he won’t be using magic. Nik feels most comfortable fighting as an animal.”

   “Why is that? If you don’t mind my asking.” She flushed at this, as if afraid I would get angry for her wanting to know more about Nik and I. 

   “It goes back to when we were human. Nik couldn’t wield magic while fully human, so when we had to fight, he would do so as an animal. Just like if I had to fight, I would use magic. So even now that we have the same abilities, we turn to what feels more comfortable for us.” 

    “Do you mind my asking how you managed to share abilities, Edward wasn’t certain.”

   “That’s because we aren’t. We have a theory of course, one that Carlisle believes is right but it’s nothing more than that. Anyway, while our grandmother was transferring the covens magic to us, we discovered that Nik and I share something that is called a soul bond. We didn’t know about it beforehand because we were the only twins in the coven. Now what is important to note is that in our coven women were the ones who wielded magic, where the men were shapeshifters. Which means that while grandmother was transferring the magic of the coven to me, she was draining the power from the men to give to Nik. This is where the bond comes in. We think that because our souls are connected, when grandmother did this the magic transferred between the two of us. Carlisle believes that if the bond should ever be broken, we will find that we will be as we were before.” I spoke softly, my mind racing over the events and information. It truly was the only thing that made sense, but since Nik and were the only ones who had ever experienced something like this, we had no way of knowing for sure. 

    “So do you think that’s why you are both so strong, because you can feed off the other.” Bella asked after a few moments, her voice just as soft as my own had been. 

    “It is certainly a possibility.” Well fell into a comfortable silence then, both of enjoying the heat radiating off of Jacob. I had just began to doze off when I noticed Edward was walking towards him, eyeing me and Jake with caution. When I rolled my eyes at him, some of the tension left him and he smiled softly at me as he reached for Bella’s hand. 

    “Hi Y/n.” He said softly, flinching when a large panther slide gracefully between us. I shook my head at this but placed a hand on Nik’s head, reaching my other hand out to twine my fingers in Jake’s fur. “Nik is still mad at me huh?”

   “We may be able to stop Demetri from finding us, but he’s mad that you made it so we would have to find out. You know how he is.” I replied, glancing over his shoulder to were the rest of our family was slowly making their way towards us. Noticing what was going on, Leah bonded over, placing herself on my other side, making it so I was safely trapped between three large animals, all of whom were focused on Edward. 

   “Enough you guys.” I sighed, taking a step backwards. “Let’s head home. All I want to do right now is sleep.” Leah humphed in agreement, or at least what I think was agreement I wasn’t able to speak wolf well enough yet to tell. Wither it was meant that way or not, she began to back away slowly, letting out a sharp bark that had my brother turning to join her. 

   “Are you going back to La Push?” Emmett asked, his voice crystal clear despite the fact that he was still out of normal hearing range.  

    “No, we will meet you back home. I have this feeling like it’s where I need to be.” That put a stop to the howling and snarling I had gotten from my three protectors. They all knew that if I had a strong feeling about something that there was no way I wasn’t going to follow it. I glanced over at Jake, noting as I did that he was looking at me and then back towards Emmett. 

    “He says he is going to stay with you. Leah is going to stay with Nik. Since they don’t know why you have this feeling they don’t want to risk leaving.” Edward translated, ignoring the annoyed yelps from Leah and Jake. 

   “I figured as much. I guess I will see you at the house?”

   “I stay with Bella at night. So you will see me in the morning.” He smiled down at Bella, who seemed relieved at the fact that he was staying with her. I nodded, smiling softly at Bella before making my way towards the rest of our family.  

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

      The days leading up the fight were spent at home, where both Leah and Jake were slowly growing accustomed to despite the smell that they swore was there. When the four of us weren’t sitting with Rose and Emmett, we were talking to Bella, who as it turned around wasn’t completely annoying. In fact I found that I enjoyed her company. Which was why I locked away in my room with Jake, working on a way to keep Bella from freezing to death tonight. 

   “Do you think I should send the magical fire or put a spell on the sleeping bag to keep her warm?” I asked Jake, scowling at the two options before me. “The sleeping bag has it’s dangers, she could overheat far to easily. While the fire would be safer it would cause questions if anyone were to see it.”

    “Darling they will be on a mountain, no one is going to see them.” Jake chuckled, moving so he was behind me. “Go with the fire.” He pressed a small kiss to my shoulder as he wrapped his arms around my waist. I nodded, quickly discarding the sleeping bag. 

     “The fire really would be best.” I said after a moment of tinkering with the magical fire. “So long as it stays in the jar, it won’t get to big but will still be enough to provide heat throughout the whole tent.” I smiled then, pleased with fact I would be able to provide some assistance. 

     “Speaking out tents, I have one of my own and I was wondering if maybe we could get away by ourselves for the night. Just you and me.” His words sent shivers down my spine, my heart hammering in my chest at what a night alone would mean. 

    “I think.” I whispered, turning around in his arms, my hands running up his chest and around his neck, letting my fingers play with the hairs at the back of his neck. “That would be a perfect.” As I finished my sentence I leaned up and pressed my kiss gently against his, moaning as he instantly deepened the kiss, pulling me closer against him. Slowly his tongue ran along my bottom lip, silently asking for permission. At once I parted my lips for him, groaning as his hands began to draw patterns on my exposed flesh. I had myself pressed flat against him, my own fingers running up to tangle into his hair. Things were getting heated, his hands slipping up my baby blue tank top, when there was a sudden pounding on my bedroom door and Nik’s rage filled voice ringing through the air. 

   “Why is your door locked with magic? You know I can’t undo any spell that you make. Wait isn’t Jake in there with you? Are you doing what I think your doing? EMMETT, EMMETT DAVINA IS SLEEPING WITH JAKE!” 

   “WHAT?” Emmett’s anger filled voice quickly joined Nik’s, their shouts earning Rose and Leah to start screaming about how they were being over dramatic. 

     “We can finish this tonight?” Jake asked, keeping his voice low enough to keep my vampire family and hybrid brother from over hearing him. 

     “For sure.” I agreed, connecting our lips once more before pulling away completely. “Oh calm down you two. Honestly, I was just working on a spell to keep Bella warm.” This I said loud enough so my vampire hearing family could hear it, the whole time rolling my eyes playfully at Jake. 

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

      The fight was underway and so far it was going according to plan. I had placed a magical protective spell over the clearing, everyone in cased in it. In the midst of doing this, I killed one of the vamps following Victoria, making it so only two were heading towards where Edward and Seth were guarding Bella. In the meantime I was still flying around the clearing, keeping an eye on everyone. I was flying over the wolves, mentally warning Jake of a newborn rushing towards him, when I heard the scream. At once a cry of my own filled the air, a pain that wasn’t mine ripping through me. With another I turned mid air and changed from owl to human, barely aware of the fact that I had summoned clothes as I landed on the ground, turning to face Nik. He was standing not to far from where I was, with a new born vampire arms wrapped around him from the fight. 

    “NIK!” I screamed, hands shaking with a sudden surge of power as I forced the vampire holding him to explode. I was beside him in a flash, catching him as he fell and falling softly beside him, cradling him as I stared down at him. “No. No. No. No.” I cried, tears falling down my face as I looked down at my brother. “Oh Nik please no..”

[caranfindel]

Recap/review 14.05: “Nightmare Logic”

THEN: Maggie. Lucifer brings her back to life but she's not okay. Maybe Jack can help us stop all the evil in the world. But then what would we do? Michael is making super monsters. The hunted become the hunters.

NOW: Maggie? Are they really still trying to make me care about Maggie? {sigh} Fine. Maggie is on a hunt, all on her own, in Claremore, Oklahoma, which she calls "delightful" but I'm pretty sure she's being sarcastic. She's in what looks like a mausoleum, hunting what she thinks is a ghoul, and we know all this because she took a camera out of her bag and started talking to it. She's wearing light pink pants that are gonna show ALL THE BLOOD, so you can tell she's still a newbie. And then the ghoul gets her. Bye, Maggie?

Title card!

Bunker. Sam seems to be leading a small hunting class. He wraps it up quickly when Dean comes in, and it seems like he still feels uneasy being a leader when Dean's around. Which makes sense. Dean's been the leader all of Sam's life. For his part, Dean actually seems to enjoy watching Sam in this new role, although he's a little sarcastic about things like hunter check-ins ("that's adorable!"). He asks Sam if he's getting any sleep, and we know the answer is "no" because Sam doesn't really answer. He's got 16 hunters on case, not including Cas and Jack (who are in Sarasota) or Mobby (who are in Texas.) You know, I'm okay with Cas being gone, but I'm not okay with him taking Jack with him. Just saying.

Dean thinks the new people don't need this much help, since they all survived a war, but Sam explains that a war is not hunting. Which begs the question, why are they all hunting anyway? Sam's right - the angel war wouldn't really prepare them for hunting monsters. So why are they doing it? Just because they live in the bunker now, so they have to be hunters? Is that why Maggie's out there in her damn pink pants trying not to get killed again?

As Sam's talking, he gets a notification that Maggie missed check-in. Ruh roh! {Sidebar: Seems like having to call in at a pre-scheduled time would be really inconvenient for hunting, so I've decided this just means she has to check in at least once every 24 hours.} Next we see the guys in the library, with Dean calling Maggie and not getting an answer as Sam works on the laptop. He has pulled up footage from Maggie's bodycam, which surprises Dean and me, but Sam says having the new hunters watch each other hunt is the best way to learn. You know, I'm thrilled with Sam's little vocational training program here, but I think the best way to learn would be to send the newbies out with experienced hunters, instead of sending them on their own and putting bodycams on them so everyone else can watch them die. But what do I know?

Sam says the bodycams upload directly to the server, so I guess Maggie had wifi in a mausoleum somewhere in delightful Claremore, Oklahoma. Of course, if Sam provided them, they'll have wifi everywhere, so let's not concern ourselves with minor details. They watch the ghoul from Maggie's POV, and Sam's clearly upset and afraid she's dead. Dean points that she might be okay, because 1) they didn't see her die, and b) ghouls are scavengers that don't normally feed on the living. Sam says "Yeah, but remember the ones that killed and ate Adam and his mom? And were eating me alive before you killed them?" No, he doesn't say that. But he should. Someone should. Instead he just asks why a ghoul would attack her. Because it's a monster, Sam.

(Hey, remember when Sam was tied to the table and the ghouls were eating him? That was a good episode.)

But this one has several good points too, including the fact that Sam looks like he might be growing the beard again. (I know he's not. Let me dream.)

Cut to a nice transition video of the Impala zooming down the road, and then the brothers in the cemetery where Maggie was last seen. Dean comments that a private cemetery must be nice, because it would be convenient. Yeah, when you die as often as these two, a cemetery in the back yard would be handy. On the other hand, they're usually not buried, so. Maggie was working this cemetery in the first place because some kids said online that a walker tried to end them. Sam then tries to mansplain (Samsplain?) walkers to Dean, who is very aware of what they are.

They enter the mausoleum and go down a flight of stairs. Damn, this thing is big. I've seen little mausoleums in cemeteries before, but nothing like this. They find drag marks on the floor. "But no blood," Dean says, "which means Maggie could still be alive." But those pink pants are gonna be really dirty.

(Hey, remember the last time Dean and Sam and Maggie were in a dark underground place, and someone got attacked and dragged away? That was a good episode.)

(Are you really doing this again? We get it. The show repeats itself and has frequent subtle and less-sutble references to older, better episodes. Can you stop now?)

(Fine. Geez.)

Sam doesn't think that's likely, because "ghouls don't take prisoners." I mean, I guess Sam wasn't technically a prisoner when he was tied to a table, but he does at least have to acknowledge that they won't necessarily eat you quickly. Dean's being oddly optimistic, saying that it might have taken her elsewhere to eat her, and maybe "hasn't finished the job yet." So, maybe only her arms and legs have been eaten? Well, that's encouraging. They're interrupted by a groundskeeper, so Sam introduces them as Harrison and Byrne (Talking Heads, so that had to be Sam's choice, not Dean's) from the Historical Preservation Society, sent by the city who wants to make the property a historic site. Oh, and can they speak to the owner?

When we get a view of the house, it's overgrown by weeds and out-of-control shrubs, so I think that groundskeeper needs to concentrate more on his gardening and less on who might be lurking in the convenient private cemetery. The somewhat geeky owner is very excited, saying he always knew this house had historical significance. He invites them in, but is surprised to see them, since it seems like the two who are already there should be enough. Whaaa? They walk into the living room to see the other two "historical preservationists" - Mary and Bobby.

And Bobby is wearing Michael's hat! RUN, BOYS, RUN!

Sam pointedly says he wishes they'd checked with "the main office" before coming all the way out here. {Sidebar: You know, the Show plays fast and loose with geography on a regular basis, but I like that Sam and Dean came from down Kansas and Mary and Bobby came up from Texas and they met in Oklahoma in a completely plausible timeline.} Bobby says they don't need permission from the main office to look at houses, "especially when the main office is run by a bunch of idjits."

OH WHAT THE HELL FAKE BOBBY! WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE? I WILL NOT STAND FOR THIS.

Mary pulls Sam away for a private talk while Dean questions the owner, Neil. But it turns out he's not actually the owner, he's only the nurse the owner, Mr. Rawling. Meanwhile, Mary explains to Sam that she and Bobby had been talking Maggie through her hunt, giving her pointers. (Gee, maybe you shouldn't have sent her off alone, Sam.) When she stopped texting, they got worried and came to check on her. Sam asks if they found anything, but before she can answer, Dean calls Sam into Mr. Rawling's room. He's unconscious, in a hospital bed, and they both agree that he looks exactly like the ghoul they saw on Maggie's video. (Which is odd, but what's even odder is that Mr. Rawling is getting a blood transfusion. Why?) If the ghoul is here, they wonder, where's Maggie?

Cut to Maggie, alive and conscious somewhere. She's strung up by her wrists and surrounded by blood bags. Hmmm. Looks more like a djinn to me.

Back at the house, Neil explains that Rawling had a stroke. Just then, Rawling's daughter Sasha shows up. She is considerably less excited to hear that the National Historic Preservation Society is interested in the house. She doesn't even know how long her father has lived here, and she's just here to wrap things up before he dies. She says it's been "a really long week," so I guess the stroke happened recently. And I'm pretty sure old Rawlings would still be in the hospital if his stroke was that recent, so put another check in the "odd" column. Sam does his best empathetic face, but she doesn't want to deal with the National Historic Preservation Society right now and asks them to leave.

Have you ever noticed that when Jared narrows his eyes a little bit, it emphasizes their tilt? Because I have.

The team regroups at the Impala. On the one hand, I like them working on their hypotheses and eliminating monsters based on their extensive knowledge. On the other hand, none of their extensive knowledge seems to have much basis in canon. First Bobby declares Rawlings "not a ghoul" because he "checked him out pretty good back there" and didn't find any bites. So I guess you stripped the old guy down under Neil's watchful eye, Fake Bobby? I don't think so. Mary suggests a shifter, but Dean says shifters don't hang out in graveyards. Sam suggests possession, which Nasty Fake Bobby dismisses because a demon wouldn't have put him back in bed after using his body, and he sprinkled him with holy water anyway. Dean calls him on his even-grumpier-than-usualness...

Something on your mind, Bobby?

Yeah. Your brother. He let Maggie come here when she had no idea what she was walking into. She wasn't ready.

Oh, come on. When is anybody ever ready?

You are or you ain't. A real leader would have seen that a mile away.

Well, okay then! Clearly I was at fault for accepting AU Bobby so quickly. He's not our Bobby at all. He's not just adorably surly, he's mean. And he's wearing that hat. And now I'm seriously starting to wonder if this is really even Fake Bobby. Did he pick that hat up at the church, after Dean took it off? Is that when Michael made him his vessel? Is Michael that attached to the damn hat? Is the hat a possessed object? Something evil is afoot, and THE HAT IS PART OF IT. I'M SURE.

This is a pretty scene, but my favorite part is Dean's "why are you being mean to my Sammy, old man?" face.

Mary smacks Fake Bobby back down, and then says they should split up. She takes Sam. Aw, this is twice that she's pulled Sam aside to take care of him. I like anyone taking care of Sammy. As she and Sam walk, she tells him not to listen to Bobby, but Sam wonders if he's right about everything. She says no, he's born to do this, and he could respond with "Actually, the only thing I was born to do was to be Lucifer's vessel," but he doesn't.

Mary continues, saying that if Bobby can't see what a natural born leader and generally awesome human being Sam is, it's not the only thing he's missing. Oh god, is she talking about what I think she's talking about? Do I even want to KNOW what Bobby is missing? Sam thinks the same thing, and segues into a talk about their relationship. Mary says that ever since they've been back (from AU Land, I guess), Bobby hunts all the time. "He won't take a break, not even for s-" and I swear to Chuck I thought she was going to say for sex, but she says "for a second." And then they have this exchange:

Bobby's not open like your dad.

Wait. Like MY dad?

Okay, at least he's not like your dad was when I knew him.

Oh my Chuck, Mary and Sam are talking about John. Poor Sam, who wasn't even allowed to talk about his mother for most of his life, now gets to talk TO her. About his father. Someone hold me. It's also funny and sad that the John he knew is so, so different from the John she knew. And now I'm imagining drunk Sam and Dean telling stories about their childhood, and Mary being absolutely horrified.

Anyway. Mary says Bobby has "walls" and she doesn't know if she can handle that, "if I even put myself out there again." Oh, wait, so she wasn't out there? So she and Bobby aren't actually in a relationship? They're just flirting and making googoo eyes and hunting together? Huh.

Sam makes an uncomfortable face, and she realizes he's not the best audience for this discussion, and it's all very weird and sweet. I'm going to stick with Mary and Sam rather than going back and forth like they do in the episode. Sam tells her that "our Bobby" wasn't very open either, at least not at first, and that he had to kill his wife and they had no kids. And Fake Bobby's walls are probably there for a good (bad) reason. Oh, Sam. You know about walls and reasons, don't you? He suggests that, if she cares about him, she won't give up on Bobby and his walls. Then they see something that looks like a pile of cloth. It's a jacket or something, and it comes with a pile of IDs - FBI, DEA, Forest Service. Must be a hunter!

Meanwhile, Bobby and Dean are having this talk:

You think I was too hard on your brother back there.

He's doing his best. He's doing better than his best. This whole hunter 5-0 thing, he's killing himself over it. He doesn't eat, he doesn't sleep, he grew himself one of those Kenny Rogers beards... no offense.

How much do I love Dean standing up for Sam, noticing everything he's doing? SO MUCH. I mean, I'm sure part of it is the classic "no one gets to talk smack about my little brother except me," but part of it is that he really is proud of Sam and what he's doing. And really is worried about him.

Dean and Fake Bobby come up on an old shed and open the door. It seems to be full of pelts. Dean goes inside, but Bobby sees a man in the woods and runs off toward him. Without saying anything to Dean. Dammit, Fake Bobby. Dean finds a body. Must be a dead hunter! He turns toward Bobby, just now realizing he's been left alone, and then something attacks him from behind. It's the old man Rawling ghoul! Dean grabs something off the windowsill, I can't tell what, and stabs the ghoul with it. The ghoul dissolves into dust. Huh. Weird. Bobby returns to find Dean covered in ghoul dust.

Back at the house, Sasha is going over some paperwork when she hears noises that seem to be coming from upstairs. She goes up and wanders down an oddly angular hallway. She opens a super-squeaky door and a vampire leaps out. On first watch, I only noticed the teeth, but on rewatch, it's one of the AU-style vampires, with the big pointy ears. She flees and falls {Sidebar: At this point, The Husband asked why women are always falling when they run away from monsters; I said it's the high heels} but as she cowers on the floor and awaits her doom, she realizes nothing is after her. The vampire is gone.

Sam and Mary are back at the Rawling house, and while it was bright daylight when they were wandering around and Sasha was being attacked, it's dark now. She explains that whatever she saw couldn't have been real, because it looked like a vampire, and Sam tells her she's not crazy. She gets the "monsters are real" speech, and Neil is more disappointed that they're not from the Historical Society than he is to learn that monsters are real. Then Dean shows up.

You're not gonna believe what I found in the shed.

You hunt monsters!

Oh, good. You told them.

What did you find in the shed?

Dead guy.

Hee! This little scene just cracks me up. Dead Guy matches the fake IDs, and Sam tells Dean they think something is killing hunters. Mary notices Bobby's gone, and Dean says he went to get something out of the truck. Alone??? She runs out after him. Dean tells Sam about Ghoul!Rawling attacking him, and Sasha's all, "he's right there," and Dean turns toward Rawling but all we can see is the foot of his bed, so I'm fairly sure it's going to turn out he's not right there after all. (Spoiler alert: I'm wrong.) Sam tells Dean about the vampire, but since the vampire didn't feed on Sasha, and the Ghoul!Rawling "died weird," Sam suggests maybe these aren't monsters at all (relieved sigh from Neil) but some kind of manifestation (not-relieved, confused looks from Neil and Sasha) like B.J. Hunnicut Fred Jones, who made all the Looney Tunes violence.

(Hey, remember when Fred Jones made the Looney Tunes violence, and Dean's gun had a flag that said BANG? That was awesome.)

(I can't help it, guys, the Show is feeding them directly to me!!!)

Sasha assures them her father is narcissistic but not psychic, and Dean wonders why he would manifest a vampire to scare his own daughter. Well, I mean, sounds like he was a bad father, so. When Sasha tells them what happened, Dean notices that she was scared away from what she was investigating, which is probably the reason the vampire was... manifested. Sam volunteers to go upstairs and investigate. Dean hands him a machete.

Downstairs, Dean sharpens another machete while Sasha downs some pills, and I know how you feel, Sasha. I've felt like cracking open the Xanax this week myself. She vents about her father and reveals that, because he was gone all the time, she was the one who found her mother after she (I assume) killed herself. "You what the most ridiculous part is?" she says. "I worshipped him when I was a kid. Didn't know any better. He's the only family I have left." Oh, gee, who else in this room can relate to that? Dean offers her some advice, which is to let it go. "The past is... nothing you can do about it now, so. It's just baggage. Let it go, you'll feel a lot lighter." She asks if that's what he does, and he says "I try. Every single day." Oh Dean!

Upstairs, Sam walks carefully down the oddly angular hallway (really, it makes NO SENSE) and opens the door Sasha had been peeking through. It's access to the attic. Sam peers around with his flashlight find finds old toys and a spooky taxidermied animal and blood bags and Maggie, strung up like the victim of a djinn. He pulls a needle from her neck and she wakes up, saying "it's here." There's a growl behind Sam and then the AU vampire attacks. {Sidebar: I wonder what kind of PTSD flashbacks Sam's going to have the next time he tries to go to sleep?} Sam hits it with the machete and it explodes into a cloud of dust, just like Dean's ghoul.

While all of this is happening, Mary goes outside and finds Bobby isn't at his truck. We see him walking in the dark, and then the man he ran after earlier comes out from behind a tree. His eyes are burned out.

Daniel?

Hey, Dad.

OH SNAP.

Bobby is shocked to see him, since apparently he died in AU Land. He kicks the crap out of Fake Bobby and then pins him to a tree with an angel blade through the shoulder, even though he doesn't stab him nearly hard enough to go through the tree, and even though Bobby remains completely level instead of hanging from that point. Mary shows up and Bobby yells at her to run. She shoots Dead!Daniel instead, but bullets don't do anything. As Dead!Daniel chokes Mary, Bobby pulls the angel blade out and falls down from the tree. He says "I'm sorry" and stabs Dead!Daniel with the angel blade, which causes him to explode into a cloud of dust.

Downstairs, Dean and Sasha go into Rawling's room, where Neil is fiddling with something. Dean finally asks what I've been asking the whole time, which is, why is the old man getting a blood transfusion? Neil says it keeps up his iron. Dean gives him a funny look and then asks Sasha to go make him a sandwich. She's all, what, seriously? He mouths go and flicks his eyes at Neil and she finally gets it and she's all, yes, that sounds like a great idea, I will go make you a sandwich.

He's so not subtle at all. I love him.

Dean pulls his gun and says he recognizes the rig now, from when he was hooked up to it. "You're not giving him blood. You're taking it." We see a flashback from "What Is and What Should Never Be," with Dean strung up in the djinn's warehouse.

(HEY! REMEMBER WHEN DEAN WAS CAPTURED BY A DJINN AND HAD THAT WHOLE DREAM LIFE? THAT WAS AMAZING.)

{Sidebar: The thing is, this would never work. The blood bag is hanging above Rawling's head. If you've ever given blood, you know the collection bag is hung below the needle. Your blood's not going to flow upstream. Gravity, people.}

"You're a djinn," Dean says. "But you knew that already, didn't you?" says Neil, as his eyes flash blue and his tattoos briefly appear. Dean asks why he's going after hunters, and he says "Because you told me to! Is this still part of the game?" Um, whaaa? Neil thinks Dean is Michael. The Michael who told him to set up a trap for hunters. He thought this was just a test. The new power Michael gave him is the ability to read minds and see nightmares just by touching his victim. And he can bring those nightmares into the world and make them do whatever he wants. Rawling's nightmare was dying alone in this house, and Neil is making it come true. Maggie's nightmares were the AU vampires. Ah, that explains why the monsters disintegrated - they weren't real. And it also explains why the AU vampires were over here. They came from Maggie's head.

Dean is still threatening Neil with the gun, and Neil says it won't kill him, and he's pretty sure Dean doesn't have a knife dipped in lamb's blood. (Silver, Neil, it has to be silver.) Dean does what I always wish they'd do in a "your mere gun won't kill me" situation, and shoots him in the knee, cause it's gotta slow him down, right? But it doesn't actually slow him much. He lunges for Dean and says he won't hurt "Michael's favorite monkey suit," but he does want to see his nightmares. He smacks a hand on Dean's forehead and is horrified. Neil backs away and says "you... you..." and then Dean says "I don't have a blade dipped in lamb's blood, but I can improvise," and smashes Neil's skull with a bookend. Okay, but. If that would work, why would you need a silver knife dipped in lamb's blood? Isn't it a lot easier to destroy the head?

It does work, but Neil has some evil plot to reveal before he dies. "You think I'm the only one? The only trap? He made dozens of us. Just out there, waiting for you, and your family." Dean shuts him up with the bookend, and then unloads his gun into him for good measure.

So, let's talk about this. What did the djinn see? I mean, Dean's been to Hell. His nightmares are pretty awful. Was that it? Or was it something else? Something, someone, maybe, hiding deep inside?

Aftermath! Dean pulls the needle out of Rawling's arm. It's daylight now, so I wonder why he waited for the sun to come up before ending the poor old guy's misery. He tells Sasha that he'll come back around after the djinn's poison wears off.

Back to the bunker, which is full of refugee hunters. Everybody joyfully greets Maggie and her dirty pink pants. "You did this," Dean tells Sam. "You got her home." Sam smiles, but it's quick and kind of sad.

Elsewhere in the bunker, Mary is bandaging Bobby. He tells her that he was a hunter in AU Land because his wife was killed by a monster, and then his son Daniel was taken by angels because Bobby got him involved in the angel war. He feels guilty about it, but it's not like the kid would have been safe even if he hadn't been fighting. Bobby always thought he'd die in the war, but he didn't (does that mean he considers the war over? he's never going back? because there's still a bunch of angels over there), and now he's "considering other options." So the constant hunting has been a way of trying to get killed. Nice of you to drag Mary into that, Fake Bobby. She tells him she's not letting him give up, and they'll find another way to live.

Sam's reading at the map table (wearing that magnificent red plaid shirt) when Dean comes in with a couple of beers. He says he talked to Maggie and she "can't wait to get back in the saddle." Sam's surprised to hear it, and I'm surprised to hear that Dean was the one to have this conversation with Maggie. How close do you suppose they are? Because really, the most time they've spent together was the long walk to Dayton after Sam was killed, and I can't imagine Dean was a pleasant companion. I'd think she'd be terrified of him at this point. Anyway. Dean says "she learned from the best," and again, Dean noticing and commenting on Sam's actions just makes me melt into a happy little puddle.

Sam's red plaid shirt also makes me melt into a happy little puddle.

Bobby and Mary come in and say "we need to talk," and the next thing we see is Sam arranging for them to stay at Donna's cabin. Which OF COURSE has a garden gnome. Bobby calls Sam aside and Sam is SO NERVOUS to be talking to him alone, and dammit, Jared, you break my heart on a regular basis. Bobby says "this job is no picnic, and I don't know if I ever really had it in me, but you do." You know, I think it's great that people are acknowledging what a good hunter and leader Sam is. But I just can't forget how much he didn't want to do this. I know he's accepted it now, and he claims to love it, but when someone tells him he's good at it, his smile is too tentative, too fleeting. I'm probably reading too much into it, but to me it says "Yeah, I'm good at the one thing I tried to get out of doing, yay me."

Mary and Dean say their goodbyes, and he actually seems to be okay with it this time. We do get the sad piano music, so we know it's significant. But the door slams shut and Sam doesn't flinch, so all is well.

(Hey, remember that time Mary slammed the door and Sam flinched? I loved that.)

Bye, Mommy! Bye, New Daddy!

Next we see the guys calling every hunter they know, warning them about super monsters. "Use the buddy system," Sam insists. Dean feels guilty about the whole thing, and says he knows it's not his fault, and he's trying to move on from "what I - what we - what he did," so it doesn't sound like he's moved on much at all. Sam says they'll work harder.

How, Sam? You get three hours of sleep a night.

Then I'll sleep two.

Oh Sam! I love his "I will do anything you need, even if it kills me" determination. He insists they'll find Michael and kill him, and Dean asks how. Sam brings up Monster!Kaia's spear again, and WHAT ABOUT THE FREAKING ARCHANGEL BLADE???? WHY HAVE YOU FORGOTTEN IT????? But the scene ends with Dean sadly walking away (something else I love? Dean's "I'm gonna pretend I believe you can fix this but I know you can't" expression) and Sam sadly biting his lip and oh, so much sad.

So much pretty, pretty sadness.

So! A little bit of nonsense, but mostly a pretty decent episode. I do wonder why they brought up Jack's powers, and the possibility of "ending all of this," in the THEN, since it wasn't addressed at all. But we got Chief Sam getting the respect he deserves. Some nice brotherly stuff. But most importantly, this episode made me realize that if monsters are the Big Bads this season, that means mytharc episodes can also be MOTW episodes. Praise Chuck. This could turn out to be a pretty decent season after all.

Please help me stay unspoiled, thanks!

[cassandraclare]

I had hoped never to have to revisit this nightmare at all, but unfortunately the Washington Post linked to me this morning with some inaccurate information. Obviously my lawyers will seek a correction, but in the meantime people will be coming here to read this, so I’m updating it.

For those who may not have been paying attention, the author Sherrilyn Kenyon recently sued her husband, her husband’s assistant, and an IT specialist who worked for them both, for poisoning her. She states as well that they turned her fans against her, convincing them to write bad reviews of her books, and that her husband was responsible for her lawsuit against me.

This post isn’t about this current lawsuit, which is something I was surprised by, but know little about. We (me and my legal team) never heard anything from her husband during her lawsuit against me, and I didn’t even know his first name until this current lawsuit news. The current lawsuit alleges that he sent me several cease-and-desist letters. That did not happen. I have never met him or heard from him, just as I have never met or ever spoke to Sherrilyn Kenyon in my life, even during the lawsuit.

The Washington Post seems confused because here in this post, I described what happened with the copyright portion of the lawsuit Kenyon brought against me as dropped. It was dropped. The complaint (A legal “complaint” is a lawsuit) filed in February 2016 initially included many claims of copyright infringement (stealing story elements). Some of those along with my lawyer’s responses are reproduced below.

In May 31, 2016, Kenyon amended her lawsuit against me, removing all the accusations of copyright infringement. That would also be known as dropping those accusations. Here is what I said at the time:

So what’s the problem?

The problem is no one knows that the copyright infringement claims were dropped, and when I see it mentioned, it’s always stated as a fact that I’m being sued for plagiarism or copyright infringement. And I am not. This hasn’t been anything but a trademark lawsuit for a year and a half now. And this doesn’t just turn up in Internet gossip — it turned up in a poorly researched article in Forbes, for instance. This is an accusation I have to live with despite the claim having been withdrawn.

Given what is in the Washington Post, I would say this ongoing problem is going to continue to be ongoing.

As for the trademark part of the suit, that was settled in May, 2018. I had many misgivings about settling. I did not, and do not now, think that Ms. Kenyon’s trademark was ever infringed on and I certainly know I and my publisher were never part of a conspiracy to harm or defraud her. None of us were even familiar with her books.

I and my lawyers waited years for Kenyon to provide promised evidence that she had ever met me, or that my publisher, as she said, was in a conspiracy to defraud her of her trademark. None ever surfaced.

In the end, in these situations, you settle a lawsuit because being sued is hellish. Yes, it is expensive, but it is also grinding and miserable. Every day you are exposed to new shocks and new unpleasantness. There were many times I considered committing suicide because I was so deeply sunk into despair at the idea that someone I did not know and had never met was determined to destroy my life, and to somehow destroy or take from me all the work I had done for ten years — everything that mattered to me, everything I had worked on so hard. I never understood why. I still don’t. For years I barely slept, couldn't write Chain of Gold, spent nights shaking and vomiting and crying. had thought trial might give me some answers to what what happening, but I also knew it meant the case could drag on for yet more years. Together with my publisher, we settled with Kenyon, but only the trademark part of the suit. That was all that was left. The copyright part of the suit was indeed dropped in May, 2016. Had it not been I would never, ever have settled. Which is something I would have told you, Washington Post, had you needed clarification.

The rest of my original post is here:

I heard a rumor that Sherrilyn Kenyon is no longer suing you for plagiarism or copyright infringement or whatever. Is that true? Is the court case over? I keep thinking that if it was, it would have been covered more in news outlets. -[redacted]

Okay. Let’s walk through this.

Are you being sued for plagiarism?

I am not, no.

I heard Sherrilyn Kenyon accused you of copyright infringement/plagiarism?

She did initially, yes, but then she dropped those claims.

When did she drop them?

Almost two years ago. May 31, 2016.

Why did she drop the claims?

You’d have to ask her. I would guess it was because almost all of her specific claims referred to material in books she hadn’t published yet at the time my books were published. Claims about things happening to characters in books she published in 2010 that I supposedly ripped off in City of Bones in 2007. That kind of thing.

 In most cases copyright infringement is kind of muddy and the merit of the claims has to go before a judge to be decided, but there are a couple of exceptions to that. One of them is the question of “access” -- did the alleged infringer have access to the material they allegedly infringed: i.e. could they have read it/seen it/heard it? In this case, since I only move forward in time like everyone else, I didn’t have access to books published in 2009 or 2010 when I was writing City of Bones in 2005. That’s straightforward business with no complicated judgment call needed. So before anything had happened with this lawsuit in an actual court, Kenyon’s team withdrew the entire copyright claim in full, leaving only a complicated trademark complaint regarding the title of the TV show and the design of my covers.

That’s weird. 

I go into detail below. Read on! Keep in mind 2007 is a significant date here because all three of the first TMI books had been turned in to my publisher by then.

So, wait, if Kenyon dropped the copyright claim isn’t that the big deal thing? The plagiarism thing?

Yes, I’d like to think so. Trademark claims are about branding and packaging, which by and large isn’t even up to me as regards my books. (Publishers do that.) There’s nothing in this lawsuit anymore that even slightly refers to the contents of my books, and I care about my reputation for integrity as a writer far more than I care about my publisher’s branding strategy.

That said, it is of course horrible to be sued — it is a horrendous process that upends your entire life; it is destructive to your work, your family, your finances, your friends, and your sanity. 

Have you read Kenyon’s books or met her?

I have never read any of her books. I have never met her or communicated directly with her in any way. 

Why didn’t I hear about this?

Because of the way the copyright claim was withdrawn. Let me walk you through this.

When Kenyon filed her initial complaint/suit, it included an “Exhibit” that broke down a long list of elements, characters, and ideas in her books that she claimed had been copied in my books, and what material from my books was supposedly “the same” as her material.

(First of all, let me point out that while this document was riddled with inaccuracies and errors, it never, at any point, claimed that any direct text from Kenyon’s books was copied into my own. Kenyon has never claimed that — to do so would require providing examples of the plagiarism, and there are none. Whereas claiming copyright infringement is much muddier. The claim merely requires that you feel you have been copied. For instance, a woman once sued Stephen King claiming he had broken into her house and stolen her diaries so he could base a character on her. Her evidence was that she felt that that was true, and nothing prevented her from filing that suit. Anyway, though many people are confused between the two, the Kenyon complaint did not levy an accusation of “plagiarism” — she claimed “copyright infringement” because plagiarism refers to the copying of exact passages of words and nothing else. A claim of plagiarism requires proof to file a suit; a claim of copyright infringement requires proof to win a suit but not to file it. They are not the same.)

The initial complaint was a shock to me, since I’d never read any of her books (and still haven’t), and have no familiarity with their characters or world or anything about them. Upon reading the complaint, however, I noted that a number of claims about what happened in my own books were inaccurate. For instance, the exhibit claimed that  Valentine was a demon, that Amatis was a shape-shifter who was in trouble for breaking “shape-shifter code”, that the Shadowhunters were a highly technological society (while true in the TV show, in the books, the Shadowhunters are specifically anti-technology), that Isabelle’s eyes were hazel. And so on. Because of this, my legal team started early in going through, in detail, the claims in Kenyon’s document. 

What we found was stunning — that (a) the claims in Kenyon’s filed exhibit were often totally inaccurate as to the contents of my book/s. Her claims are on the left, rebuttals are on the right.

Claims regarding Clary:

(b) quite a lot of the plaintiff’s claims suggested that she had invented common and ancient storytelling tropes, e.g. “A sword having a name,” and stated that those tropes’ presence in my books could only have come from her books and not, say, the entire literary and folkloric tradition of tropes that all authors draw on:

and, most importantly, C) a huge number of her claims were impossible due to the chronology of publication — that is, when she was comparing material in our books, her material had been published *after* my material. Copying does not work that way, since time does not work that way.

So my legal team wrote all of that up — a point-by-point, line-by-line refutation of Kenyon’s claims, and filed it as our own exhibit. You can read it right here. If you’d rather hit up twitter, you can see some of it here.

In response, Kenyon filed what is called an Amended Complaint.

The court allows her side to take on board anything from our response and, if necessary, file a new version of the lawsuit making changes based on anything they’ve learned.

And in the Amended Complaint, the whole copyright claim just…disappeared.

Like, gone. Not there at all.

What was left?

Trademark issues. They are more specifically about what the covers of my books are allowed to look like, branding strategies, and the title of the television show. I cannot go into the details of this, or why it would come up suddenly thirteen years after my first Shadowhunters book was published, because that is part of an ongoing case, and one cannot comment on ongoing cases. The copyright thing however is not ongoing. Again, it was dropped in May, 2016.

If Kenyon won her case would the TV show be cancelled?

Yes. There would also be no more books. They would be cancelled as well, internationally. There would be no more Shadowhunters anything: merch, books, show, whatever. However since the remainder of the case was settled before the TV show was cancelled, the lawsuit had nothing to do with the cancellation. I have seen that suggested and it is ridiculous. Freeform/Disney and I had our differences but they were never anything but supportive of me as far as the lawsuit was concerned nor did it factor in any way into the decision to cancel the show, as it was already over by then.

Interesting.

Well, we’ve all learned something today. Primarily, we have learned that I am not being sued for copyright infringement or plagiarism or anything like it, and also that people are really interested in negative gossip and controversy, but not particularly interested in exoneration. I cannot tell you how much it sucks to be accused of something awful that you did not do, in public (however used to it you may be); I cannot express how humiliating and horrible it is, or how depressing it is to realize that basically nobody cares if it isn’t true. (Thank you, Washington Post.) Many, many news outlets reported on Kenyon suing me; only one that reported on the original claim reported that she had dropped the copyright claims.

I have done my best here to provide 100% factual information for anyone who was confused or believed false reports about this situation. I am under no illusions that this will prevent people from saying I am being sued for plagiarism, because it gives them pleasure to be cruel. I can only hope that for those people who are actually interested in what is true, this will serve as a useful link.

[shireness-says]

Driver’s Education

Summary:  God, she wishes teaching Killian to drive was as easy as teaching Henry. Or, Killian vs. the modern automobile. ~1.5K. Also on AO3

A/N: The second thing I ever posted, transferred here in honor (read: under the excuse of) Fandom Crescendo. Just a cute, ridiculous little thing. Un-beta’d. Enjoy - I hope you like it!

On a lovely day in May, Emma Swan finds herself gripping the car’s roof handle and contemplating that she may be in the middle of the worst idea she’s ever had.

Well, that’s probably not strictly true. Letting Henry eat that apple turnover was a horrible idea. Taking on the Darkness was a horrible idea. This is just mildly unfortunate in comparison.

Then again, she thinks as Killian takes a corner far too fast, this is starting to be right up there.

This adventure in risking her sanity started innocently enough, if you can believe it. Henry was turning 15 in a month, and like the generous mothers they were, Emma and Regina had decided to let him take a few tentative turns behind the wheel before Driver’s Ed began.

“I don’t want look like an idiot, driving for the first time with other students in the car!” he’d begged. “C’mon, just a few times. Please? I promise I’ll do everything you say and that it will help in the long run!”

And really, he’d had a point. What would it hurt? So, the two women agreed to take him to cruise around the school parking lot the few Saturdays before his birthday and permit test. Though Regina provided her nice, new sedan for the effort, it was decided Emma would take the lead on teaching. Better to learn from someone who was taught the traditional way, instead of via curse. Empty lot, low speeds, decent teacher – what could go wrong, they thought.

With Henry, the answer was absolutely nothing. Despite the mailbox incident with David several years prior (the main argument against allowing any early lessons now), their son took to driving like a duck to water. It seems that years of observing his various family members finally paid off. Quicker than Emma anticipated, Henry graduated from taking slow circles around the parking lot to creeping down back roads. He’s confident and proud of himself, she’s proud yet about to cry about the fact that her little boy is growing up, and Regina is just relieved she doesn’t need to replace any more mailboxes – yet.

No, Henry isn’t the problem. The real problem is Killian.

As Henry turns the Volvo back into the high school parking lot after a final, successful run on the roads, Emma gets to thinking. Killian has been in Storybrooke for nearly three and a half years now. She’s proud of him every day for the way he’s adapted to things in the Land Without Magic – it can’t be easy, having to learn so many new things after three hundred years inhabiting one way of life. He’s better on the stove than she is, adores Netflix, and has even stopped referring to her laptop as the “portable magic information box”. It really might be time he learns to drive, and be able to get places of his own volition. Now would probably be the best time, as long as she’s teaching Henry anyways. As she mulls the matter over in her head, she really can’t see a downside, and when she brings it up to Killian, he’s excited to try. Really, what’s the worst that could happen?

Famous last words.

As it turns out, Killian hasn’t paid nearly as much attention to her driving as Henry had, and she has to teach him the basics about the controls before he can even think about shifting into drive.

“Ok, what’s the lever on the right do?”

“Um… direction indicators.”

“No, windshield wipers. They take the water off the glass in front of you. The ‘direction indicators’ are actually called ‘turn signals’, and are operated by the level on the left. Now, which way for right and which way for left?”

“Up is left?”

“Down is left. Up is right. Right, like the direction you’re lifting it towards. And where are your headlights?”

“The switch on the left, underneath the vent. Please tell me that’s right, love.”

She nods begrudgingly. “Which pedal is which?”

“The right is go, the left is stop, and you have a third pedal in your car that I don’t need to worry about right now.”

Well, at least he’s got that down. Foolishly, she goes for broke, and points to a dial on the dash. “And what does this do?”

“…Temperature control?”

It’s the radio knob.

This is going to take a while.

------

After a nearly embarrassing amount of time – really, it takes him over a week – she’s finally confident that he understands the basic controls enough to be allowed behind the wheel. She drives out to the local high school again one Sunday, ready to try and teach a three-hundred-year-old pirate how to operate a piece of heavy machinery. But she always feels like driving is somewhat instinctual, a matter of feel more than anything, the car an extension of one’s body. He’ll pick it up quickly. Surely, the worst is over, right?

Wrong, on so many counts.

The lesson gets off to a bad enough start, with Killian consistently overshooting and undershooting the ‘drive’ position on the gear shifter. Then, once he finally gets it into drive (smoothly, five times in a row, on Emma’s insistence), he demonstrates that he has no concept of how to operate the gas and brake pedals. First, he puts way too much pressure on the gas, the car leaping forward far faster than safe or comfortable, then slamming on the brakes when Emma tells him to slow it down. Which leads to this moment – clinging to the ceiling handle, borderline praying for her life.

It’ll be a miracle if I don’t have to fix any dents on Regina’s car, Emma thinks, as the car finally jerks to a stop. Desperately, she tries to come up with something positive to say, but keeps drawing a blank.

“Well, that was… a good start. You’ve definitely figured out which pedal does what. Maybe we can try just using one foot to operate the pedals, instead of two?”

Killian just looks confused. “But why? There are two pedals, shouldn’t I use both feet?”

God, it’s like pulling teeth. “You just don’t, ok? In some cars, you need the other foot for other things. And when you’re using both feet, you tend to press the pedals too aggressively. Does that make sense?”

That confusion morphs into frustration. “Not particularly, but I’ll trust you, love.” He shifts the car into drive again. “I thought you said it should feel natural, controlling the speed?”

Yeah, I thought so too.

It’s only by some unheard-of miracle that by the time they leave, two and a half hours later, Killian is finally able to control the Volvo at a crawl.

At this rate, she’s not sure she’ll survive teaching Killian to drive.

------

A few weeks later, they’re finally able to hit the open road – and she truly means the open road, choosing to let him take the wheel on a stretch of practically forgotten pavement. On the one hand, Emma is pleased that her lessons in controlling speed have finally paid off. On the other, Killian now refuses to drive the car above a snail-like 15 miles per hour. It’s simultaneously endearing and frustrating, leaning more towards the latter. But at the same time, he’s just so pleased with himself, narrating every action he takes.

“And now, we’re taking a right turn, so I click this lever upwards… and there appears to be dirt on my windshield, so I pull the other lever in towards me to spray the fluid and activate the wipers… now Swan, it appears we’re driving through a very shady area, shall I activate the headlights?”

Ok, maybe he’s more endearing than frustrating.

------

The final stage of his driving education, after a month and a half carefully driving around town, is the dreaded parking maneuvers, and Emma ends up closing off an entire street for the purpose. She just doesn’t trust him not to bump into other parked cars. As it turns out, this is the one part of driving that he seems to be a natural at.

“Well, Swan, after having to carefully maneuver the Jolly for years, this little car isn’t so hard. It was really just a matter of mastering the speed control.”

Huh. Who’d have thought.

It still doesn’t stop a crowd from gathering to watch the dreaded Captain Hook maneuver a mid-size sedan between two orange cones. Emma will admit – there’s something inherently entertaining about the very idea.

------

Finally, in November, six months after their hellish lessons began, Killian Jones earns himself a Maine driver’s license. Regina presides over the test, and exits the Volvo shocked and impressed.

“Well done, Ms. Swan, I’d actually trust him on the roads of Storybrooke.”

To celebrate, and grant the new driver a modicum of independence, they purchase a small SUV he promptly dubs the Jolly Landship. (He thinks it’s funny; she thinks it’s awful.)

Henry earns his own license the following May, to the surprise of no one. He’s proved to be just as excellent a driver as first impression suggested.

After the successful tests of both students in the Swan-Jones household, there’s really only one thing left to do.

“Road trip, Swan?”

[itsworn]

TREMEC Five-Speed for Your C3 Corvette

Three pedals and four gears, it’s the stuff of legend in the world of early Corvettes. If you have the big-block with three-deuces, you can even relate to the old Beach Boys song featuring the line “three-deuces and a four-speed.” As fate would have it, our 1971 Corvette project car came with merely two pedals, and Editor Brian Brennan, being a guy who prides himself on being able to mix things up (we’ll let you interpret that as you like) decided it was time to ditch the old automatic in favor of a stick shift car so he could mix his own gears.

At first, a four-speed gearbox was considered, but as we know, the times they are a changing and today the four-speed tranny has gone the way of surfer music. Our early Corvettes often take to the modern highways where cruising at 70+ mph is the norm. Doing that with an original four-speed tranny generally means you’re spinning that vintage engine pretty good just to keep up with traffic. One solution is to change the rear gear to a taller (lower numerically) gear so you can cruise at higher speeds and lower engine rpm. That’s fine, but then you sacrifice that all-satisfying low-end performance. Launching the car in First gear is no longer the exhilarating experience directly associated with Corvette performance.

The real solution is an additional overdrive gear in the transmission, and happily American Powertrain in Cookeville, Tennessee, has the perfect solution for Corvettes in the form of their 1968-76 C3 Corvette 5-Speed Kit (PN PFGM-20007). It should be mentioned they manufacture similar kits for C1 and C2 Corvettes. American Powertrain takes a brand-new TREMEC five-speed transmission and modifies the rear housing to locate the shifter exactly through the original C3 shifter opening in the console. Gone are the days of an old Hurst shifter coming out the side of the tranny tunnel and rubbing your leg; this package fits. But the cool features don’t stop there. American Powertrain also has a shift handle that looks like a factory Corvette piece, so the interior of the car retains that factory original appearance. They also include a new console shift pattern plate to show the new five-speed pattern. Since we were converting our automatic transmission C3 to a manual shift we also turned to American Powertrain for the clutch assembly and pedal assembly.

Speaking of factory appearance, our 1971 (C3) had been “resting” for almost 30 years so the interior appointments were, shall we say, “stale.” But just a small bit of time with the Corvette America catalog solved all our ageing console problems. So now, not only do we have a brand-new five-speed transmission to deliver new-car performance, we have the interior pieces to make the car look new as well.

We stopped by the American Powertrain headquarters and followed along as they modified the brand-new TREMEC five-speed specifically for the C3 Corvette (they can adapt this transmission to other year Corvettes, too). The conversion is interesting with some unique machine work done on the tailshaft housing (this housing is referred to as the “extension housing” in TREMEC manuals) to locate the shifter in the proper location.

After the American Powertrain five-speed arrived at Hot Rods by Dean their team of experts had it installed in no time. What made it so simple was the complete American Powertrain kit. The boxes arrived at Hot Rods by Dean complete with the modified transmission; a new, proper length driveshaft; powdercoated transmission mounting bracket; transmission mount; pilot bearing; backup light wiring harness; speedometer conversion (mechanical or electronic) and the aforementioned console shift pattern plate. We also ordered the optional Corvette-style shift handle.

With the new five-speed installed we have a Corvette that launches hard and still cruises at highway speeds with ease. It truly is the best of both worlds; with one hand on the vintage-style shifter, mixing the modern gears below, ya gotta love it. Vette

1. Few things will add more fun, performance and reliability than adding a new American Powertrain five-speed transmission to your Corvette. Let’s take a look at the modification process that makes this TREMEC a direct fit in the C3 Corvette.

2. American Powertrain uses only brand-new TREMEC transmissions, no rebuilt units here. This is our brand-new TREMEC prior to modification. The rear tailshaft housing will be removed and replaced with a modified unit.

3. Starting with a new rear tailshaft housing, the machinist at American Powertrain removes the unused mounts on the bottom of the housing. Note the housing is held in place with a special mounting fixture.

4. The milling machine continues the removal of aluminum, providing the required clearance for mounting this transmission in the C2/C3 frame.

5. When the machine work is complete, every trace of the unwanted mounts has disappeared. This attention to detail is apparent throughout the modification.

6. The next step is machining a recess in the top of the housing. This recess will accommodate the new shift linkage, enabling the shifter to come up exactly in the stock Corvette location.

7. The shifter adapters are also machined in house; only one adapter is used for each conversion.

8. Over on the CNC milling machine, these housing are formed to fit the new recess machined into the tailshaft housing.

9. Here are all of the machined pieces that convert a brand-new TREMEC five-speed to a custom-fit C3 Corvette transmission.

10. The first step is to remove the rear tailshaft housing from the TREMEC five-speed tranny.

11. After removing the two top covers the shift rods are exposed. These must be disconnected before removing the tailshaft housing. The roll pins are driven out of the collars to disconnect the rods.

12. With the rods disconnected, attention is turned to unbolting the tailshaft from the main transmission housing. An impact wrench makes quick work of the process.

13. After removing the tailshaft housing, the output shaft is exposed. The three rods protruding from the top of the main transmission case are the shift rods.

14. The two cases are sealed from the TREMEC factory with a red sealant. All of this old sealant is carefully scraped off with a razor blade.

15. Our new, modified tailshaft housing will require a bearing race in the receiver below the mainshaft opening.

16. A coating of grease in the receiver helps the race slide as it is tapped into place.

17. The fifth gear drive assembly has a bearing that will ride in the new bearing race we just installed in the tailshaft housing. A coating of bearing grease is applied prior to final assembly.

18. A bead of sealant is applied to the main transmission case to provide a perfect seal between the main housing the tailshaft.

19. The bead of sealant is flattened with a finger to ensure uniform coverage between the mating surfaces.

20. The technician carefully slides the American Powertrain-modified tailshaft housing into position.

21. With a little wiggling, the housing lines up and slides into place against the main transmission housing.

22. Notice the tailshaft housing slides up against the main case, the bolts are not used to pull it into place. Once the two housing are mated, the bolts are threaded in place.

23. After applying a bit of antiseize on the threads, the tailshaft to main housing bolts are torqued to 50 ft-lb.

24. With the two housings joined together, the roll pins are tapped into place on the shift rods.

25. Here we can see the machined housing and shift relocation pieces manufactured by American Powertrain installed in the tailshaft housing.

26. The two original covers are now installed atop the TREMEC tranny using the factory gaskets.

27. The modified rear housing requires a new cover to facilitate the relocated shifter. This is custom machined by American Powertrain.

28. The American Powertrain White Lightening shifter mechanism is now bolted in place. This assembly ensures smooth, quick shifts every time.

29. The neutral safety switch is located on the rear of the tailshaft housing and comes with weatherproof wiring connections in place. The new driveshaft that came in the conversion kit will slip into place here, too.

30. OK, so you get a great five-speed overdrive transmission built with custom-machined parts to locate the shifter exactly in the factory opening, but when you’re in the driver’s seat this Corvette-style shifter simply completes the perfect conversion.

31. Since we were converting our Corvette from an automatic to five-speed we ordered a new console, shifter boots, shift plate and decal from Corvette America.

32. And here it is, our brand-new custom TREMEC five-speed transmission ready to be installed in our C3 Corvette. Add a 2-year warranty and technical support from American Powertrain to complete the package.

33. And this is what it looks like when it arrived at Hot Rods by Dean’s door, packaged like it just rolled out of the factory and ready for installation.

The post TREMEC Five-Speed for Your C3 Corvette appeared first on Hot Rod Network.

from Hot Rod Network https://www.hotrod.com/articles/tremec-five-speed-c3-corvette/ via IFTTT

[supplychainsystems]

COVID slows bicycle supply chain

New Post has been published on https://supplychainmanagementcertificate.com/2021/07/29/bicycle-supply-chain/

COVID slows bicycle supply chain

COVID slows bicycle supply chain

Smith Cycle manager Matt Ytsma displays a stack of hundreds of orders for people wanting to purchase a new bicycle or accessories.

The pandemic has created a worldwide shortage of bicycles, and at Smith Cycle, they’re feeling the pain.

The long-time Chatham business has but a handful of bikes for sale and they don’t foresee their inventory being restocked anytime soon.

Interest in outdoor activities such as cycling have soared since COVID-19 turned the economy on its head, leading to a heavy demand for sporting equipment.

At the pandemic’s outset, Smith Cycle manager Matt Ytsma said sales were off the charts.

“When COVID-19 hit in March (2020), we sold a year’s worth of bikes in one month,” Ytsma said.

“By June we didn’t have a bike to sell.”

It’s the same, he said, with parts and accessories.

“We can’t get tires, chains and shifters,” Ytsma explained. “It’s not just us, it’s everywhere.”

Bike helmets are another issue, he said, adding the store sold a year’s worth of helmets in six months so far in 2021.

According to Ytmsa, who has worked at Smith Cycle for 23 years, the supply glitch is being squarely blamed on sourcing problems in Asia, along with the high cost of shipping.

The bulk of the world’s bicycles and parts are manufactured in Asia.

It’s reported that a Sea-Can shipping container – that used to cost $2,000 – now carries a hefty $20,000 price tag. Business experts claim the hike is leading to supply chain issues around the world.

They also say labour shortages are making it difficult to unload goods at Canadian ports, with some ships having to wait offshore for weeks in order to deliver.

Ytmsa said it’s the same story for businesses across the board.

He knows the supply problems are directly related to COVID-19, because prior to the pandemic, sales at Smith Cycle were relatively stable and predictable.

The problem will eventually get sorted out, Ytsma said, and he hoped it won’t be too long in coming.

“My fear is by the time they figure it out, it’ll go bust,” he added. “The market will eventually go down.

“Normally we have 200 bikes for sale,” he said. “Right now we have four.”

An online check of stock in local big-box stores showed there are some bicycles available at those locations, in limited quantities.

In the meantime, Chatham-Kent residents will continue to hit the streets, parks and trails in record numbers, putting outdoor venues to good use.

COVID slows bicycle supply chain

Main

A bicycle, also called a bike or cycle, is a human-powered or motor-powered, pedal-driven, single-track vehicle, having two wheels attached to a frame, one behind the other. A bicycle rider is called a cyclist, or bicyclist.

Bicycles were introduced in the 19th century in Europe, and by the early 21st century, more than 1 billion were in existence.[1][2][3] These numbers far exceed the number of cars, both in total and ranked by the number of individual models produced.[4][5][6] They are the principal means of transportation in many regions. They also provide a popular form of recreation, and have been adapted for use as children’s toys, general fitness, military and police applications, courier services, bicycle racing, and bicycle stunts.

The basic shape and configuration of a typical upright or “safety bicycle”, has changed little since the first chain-driven model was developed around 1885.[7][8][9] However, many details have been improved, especially since the advent of modern materials and computer-aided design. These have allowed for a proliferation of specialized designs for many types of cycling.

The bicycle’s invention has had an enormous effect on society, both in terms of culture and of advancing modern industrial methods. Several components that eventually played a key role in the development of the automobile were initially invented for use in the bicycle, including ball bearings, pneumatic tires, chain-driven sprockets and tension-spoked wheels.[10]

Although bike and cycle are used interchangeably to refer mostly to two types of two-wheelers the terms still vary across the world. In India for example a cycle refers only to a two-wheeler using pedal power whereas the term bike is used to describe a two-wheeler using internal combustion engine or electric motors as a source of motive power instead of motorcycle/motorbike.

[aldrinkevin]

BPO Industry and it’s contribution to the Philippine Economy

     The citizens of the Philippines are among the people who, even though it is against their dreams, work hard to earn and save for their future. Some want to be a surgeon, engineers, soldiers, attorneys and professors but any occupation would do just to earn for yourself and your family if life hits hard. A lot of work is recommended for Filipinos these days, such as technical support personnel, call center agents, customer service assistants, virtual assistants and IT specialist who are open under Business Process Outsourcing, BPO.  But why does BPO have the largest list of workers in the Philippines?

              Business Process Outsourcing, or BPO, refers to the contracting process for normal business task to be conducted outside the organization by a third party. BPO provides organizations with access to imaginative technical opportunities to which they would not otherwise be exposed. By embracing the most current technology and practices, BPO members and enterprises are continually working to optimize their processes.  As the U.S. corporate income tax is one of the highest in the developed world, American Businesses, much like the Philippines, benefit from outsourcing operations to countries with lower income taxes and cheaper labor forces as feasible cost saving measures. It also provides businesses with the advantages of fast and reliable reporting, increased efficiency, and the opportunity, if necessary, to rapidly reassign their resources.

     There is no question today that call center services in the Philippines have made their fair share of contributions to the economy and labor force of the country. Because of the advantages one can receive, as well as the benefits one may obtain from this line of work, thousands and thousands of applicants have ventured into this field of jobs. In short, the BPO industry has created the ability for individuals from all walks of life to earn for themselves and for their families. But when did this all begin?

You could be mistaken if you think the call center service scene in the Philippines is something new. In reality, since the early 90s, the sector as a whole has been around.

     In 1992, a man called Frank Holz began the first instance of BPO. Here in the Philippines, he founded the first contact centre. In setting up the industry people know and enjoy today, this event is seen as the turning stone.

     Thanks to Frank Holz, The partner responsible for establishing and marketing the first Global Resource Center in Manila, The BPO in the Philippines with Accenture in 1992. Currently its main facility is located at Mandaluyong City’s Robinsons Cybergate 2 Tower.

     It was not until 1997, however, that the first international account was established, further advancing the state of the country's telecommunications and over-the-phone customer services. But it was only in 1999 that the first professionally recognized call Center Company in the Philippines was founded by two people named Jim Franke and Derek Holley.

     Services from the call center only made the leap of faith they wanted in this period. It was in this specific era that the entire essence of BPO had its foundations laid in stone before the establishment of numerous call centers in the country. The contribution of the BPO industry to the gross domestic product of the country, otherwise known as GDP, was 0.075 per cent in the year 2000. While it may have been small at the time. Over the years, the number has grown, reaching up to 2.4 % in 2005.

     A US-based outsourcing center agreed in 2001 to move some parts of its operations to the Philippines, thus creating up to 8,400 new jobs. Two years later, two call centers were opened by one of the biggest names in the Philippines' call center service industry. At that time, as part of their strategy for international expansion, Jack Frecker, who was the president of this organization, chose the Philippines and India as the locations for their new centers because both countries are mostly fluent in English language than others.

     Today, call center services have created a lot of openings for individuals coming from various locations to generate their own personal income. The employees are also provided with various benefits thanks to these companies that they could personally use which has brought happiness to many Filipinos.

     Filipinos have top notch communication skills and are professional on a variety of industries. We provide a large number of verticals with high-quality services such as speech, non-voice, and back office, encouraging more companies to pursue outsourcing opportunities in the region. In addition, we have a strong understanding of Western culture , giving us the benefit of delivering reliable and efficient services.

The Philippines was hailed as the BPO capital of the world in 2010. The entire industry is expected to increase in terms of sales and growth this year. In addition, the reputation developed by the BPO industry has helped to increase the attractiveness of foreign investors and negotiators to the region. As a result, the sales of call center facilities all over the Philippines grew more in 2011 and 2012, with a net worth of $11,000,000,000 and 638,000 workers working for the sector. Also, on an annual basis, BPO grew by 46 percent and contributed to the increase in the GDP of the country, at the time being 5.4 percent.

     BPO is also split into two major service types: back office and front office. Internal business procedures, such as billing or ordering, are used in back-office services. Front-office facilities, such as marketing and tech support, affect clients of the contracting company. BPOs should integrate these resources so that, not individually, they function together.

     Based on the vendor's venue, the BPO industry is split into three groups. By combining the three groups, an organization will achieve complete process optimization:

1. Offshore sellers are based outside the country of the company itself. A U.S. corporation, for instance, may use an offshore BPO vendor in the Philippines.

2. Near shore suppliers are based in countries adjoining the country of the contracting company. A BPO in Canada is considered a near shore vendor in the United States , for example.

3. Onshore vendors operate within the same country as the contractor, although they may be located in a different city or state. For example, a company located in Manila could use an onshore outsourcing vendor located in Baguio City and Cebu that is in the Philippines.

     The industry receives great support from the government due to the BPO's effect on the economy of the country, providing benefits such as tax holidays and exemptions, among many others. The development of the Data Protection Act is one great example of this relationship. Through this act, in the Philippines, international quality data privacy standards are now being followed, giving businesses opportunities to acquire new customers who have strict information protocols. This government cooperation allows companies and BPO companies to expand their operations further, with global organizations tempted to continuously outsource the region.

The Department of Labor and Employment (DOLE) sees a bright future for most BPO jobs in the world, despite the danger of a global recession. In reality, in the coming months, they expect "the revival of the country's business process outsourcing industry." DOLE reports that thousands of job vacancies have already been posted by several big names in the BPO sector to fill the-demand.

BPO was a jargon for many Filipinos way back in 2000. Call centers were just start-ups, and the thought of bringing their business to the Philippines did not make many investors happy. BPO has become a worldwide movement today and the Philippines is in the spotlight. Large businesses from larger economies are lining up on its shores, finding ways to reduce operating costs while staying competitive. In reality, Budget and Management Department Secretary Florencio Abad estimated that in 2012 alone, the industry generated $13 billion in revenue and is expected to rise by at least 16 percent in 2013.

     The Philippine economy is currently powered by BPO as a dominant force. In many ways, it has produced a ripple effect according to KMC mag group.

1) Export growth: Exports of Philippine merchandise increased by 7.6 percent to $51.99 billion.

2) Jobs generation: There were 493,000 Filipinos working in the communication sector as of 2012.

3) Growth in the telecommunications sector: Amid the decline in telephony spending worldwide due to the recession, the Philippines' telecommunications industry increased by $8 million.

4) Real estate growth: There is higher demand for office spaces and buildings because of BPO. There is also a larger middle-class market at the same time, which includes more subdivisions, townhouses, and residential condominiums.

5) Small business rise: The huge demand for food outlets in BPO offices and buildings has encouraged the rise of fast food outlets, restaurants, and convenience stores, particularly for 24/7 shops that cater to night shifters.

6) Growth in transport: With the increasing workforce, there is an enormous demand for transport services , particularly those that go beyond normal working hours.

The Philippines has been put at the forefront of economic growth through BPO. This industry will boost the nation and carve its niche in world society with continued government support.

[back-alley-magic]

"Tuck you in, warm within Keep you free from sin Till the Sandman he comes

Sleep with one eye open Gripping your pillow tight

Exit: light Enter: night Take my hand We're off to never Neverland" --Enter Sandman https://goo.gl/FXW52w

The Sandman

Faction: Fae

FC: Doug Jones

Name: The Sandman

Any other titles, nicknames, or epithets: Mister Mercurial, Sopor, Chelem (depending on how old you are. Those who remember him from the glory days will probably refer to him by his earlier name Chelem, or even as far back as Hypnos. His human associates call him simply Mr. Mercurial.)

Age: As old as man’s dreams, and older still. For even birds in their nests and wolves in their dens dream bloody, wordless dreams.

Personality:

+energetic

+entertaining

+understanding (he’s had millennia to dissect and devour every form of human desire and regret. Trust him when he says he knows what you’re feeling. He has tasted it before.)

+intensely curious

+playful

+adaptable

+creative

+has an infectious energy and passion, and is oddly supportive (even if he tends to support horrible, energy-draining ideas and crackpot fantasies that are bound to go nowhere, end up in life-consuming obsession, and feed no one but himself)

+whimsical

+persuasive

+/-overly flowery and melodramatic in all aspects of life. He lives on imagery and imagination, and the rules of reality don’t really seem to apply to him. His magic is very distorting, intoxicating, and metaphorical

+/-nosy

+/-not disloyal per-se, and not exactly neutral. He likes to play /every/ side, catching ahold of fragmentary goals and half-born ambitions before flitting onto the next.

+/-stickler for rules, though his rules are almost nonsensical and extremely allegorical (in a way he’s the unholy mix of Jareth from The Labrynith, the Riddler, and Morpheus from the Sandman comics)

+/-perpetually /starving/. His hunger and greed give him his gaunt, inhuman appearance. Despite centuries of twisting others’ imagination into his own human illusions, he hasn’t quite been able to disguise his inhumanity, and the result is both uncanny and somehow entrancing. 

+/-while on a whole he seems unfocused and a raw force of nature (barreling in every direction with deadly strength like a rushing current yet as impossible to grasp as water) he is incredibly intense and focused on small points. His plans from a grand scale seem to constantly shift, but this is because he focuses on very small issues before becoming immersed in his next micro-obsession.

-quixotic

-possessive

-greedy

-irresponsible

-quick to make judgments and resistant to changing his mind (even given counter-evidence)

-irrational

-while he tries to appear pleasant, gracious, and giving he can be quite vicious and spiteful when he feels you are hampering his plans. He also spares little thought for the live he ruins. In his mind he gives them a greater gift than the energy he takes, and his illusory worlds provide more comfort than reality. He rarely sticks around to see the evacuated, hollow, delusional human wrecks he leaves in his wake.

Powers, weapons, and skills:

Like many other Fae, Mr. Mercurial draws his power from the energy of living beings. While others focus on emotion, his energy source is even more intangible. He feeds on dreams themselves, crafting palaces of fantasies from wisps of imagination. While his magical source may be the most obscure and metaphorical, it has some of the most concrete uses. His very life-blood is a sea of hypnotic dream and he’ll shed his blood for any would-be dreamers and hopeful innovators...for a price. Above all, Mr. Mercurial craves novelty, always hunting for the next groundbreaking idea, or intensity, searching for souls deeply wrapped in their own daydreams. The advent of mass media and entertainment was more than he could ever hope for in this quest. Now he has a rapt audience already primed for dreaming and already hooked on diversion. And in a city full of vices, who will pay any attention to one more shadowy figure pushing iridescent, quicksilver pills in back alleys? He says they’re simply melatonin. But the dreams they conjure are like nothing you’ve ever experienced. In the end, they become more real than reality itself, and life will never be quite as satisfying as that world you build within your mind.

Worst of all, as The Sandman accumulates loyal followers, lovingly called his Dreameaters, his powers grow. His quicksilver pills are picking up some very strange side-effects, and the human world is starting to take notice.

In essence, he creates daydreams so real they can become physical to their target. They often weave into elaborate distortions of reality, each personalized to the dreams of the viewer. The more the individual's mind fills in the gaps in the dream and the more they become submerged in the fantasy, the more power Mr. Mercurial can siphon from them. This works on Fae, shifters, and Witches Proper to some extent, but humans are much more susceptible. His favorite prey of all happens to be hedge witches because they are still human enough for vivid dreams but have some amount of Power.

Weaknesses:

In many ways, his illusions are stronger than his physical self. He is crumbling and tearing apart at the seams, like worn paper. This frailty causes him to rely even more heavily on his powers, thereby accelerating the cycle of decay.

His power must have a fertile mind to catch hold. Therefore, his illusions are realest to creative, artistic, passionate, or curious individuals. Those who are overly rational, small-minded, or inflexible simply won't be able to embellish on his fantasies.

While old film, books, and other older physical media can still harbor his powers, he hits the same pitfalls as many other fae. Modern technology, including phones, cameras, and computers just won't take up his magic. He is also weakened in the newer part of the city, and shuns the tall glass and steel skyscrapers in favor of crumbling brick and shadowy alleys.

It takes a little knowledge about a person or direct contact with his blood to create a very vivid dream-world. Usually after taking one of his quicksilver pills, he sticks around to talk and fish out more information on your darkest fears and deepest hopes. Only then can he truly weave a dream strong enough to entrap a human to their death. 

The more Dreameaters he amasses, the stronger his power grows. But his body weakens. He counteracts this by devouring the physical body of his most imaginative Dreameaters. He doesn't relish this aspect of his powers, but views it as a noble sacrifice by his loving children so the dreams may continue. What he /doesn't/ realize is that once he has devoured them, they are a part of him and have some small access to his powers. His blood is their blood, and they have started appearing in visions to some of the Dreameaters and those who try his quicksilver pills (but more on that to come in NPCs).

He may think he has a perfect understanding of human nature, but his views on human emotion and motive are actually very black and white. He knows their deepest failings and their greatest hopes, but he doesn't really understand the grey area most people dwell in, both evil and noble. This can certainly be used against him.

Finally, and most importantly, he is almost as caught-up in his own webs as his Dreameaters. He has lived in fantasy so long he is rather delusional.  Though he claims to control his fabricated reality, it has taken on a life of its own. It may just be devouring him just as it devours his human prey.

Likes:

Modern technology

movies and media. He is /obsessed/ with movies and tv. They are the closest thing to mass-produced versions of his power, and provide very convenient ways for him to siphon energy.

especially enamored with classic hollywood

melodrama

watching from afar

horrible jokes

creativity

art

anyone with a driving passion

making dreams come true (or at least, so he says)

messing with the other Fae and Witches Proper

humans. He may be a parasitic force of nature, but he truly loves how every small, inconsequential human has the capability to dream and create their own worlds. Probably of all the Fae, he has the greatest love and awe for

Dislikes:

realists

boring individuals

small-minded people

fae who look down on him for his close association with humans

not getting his way

boredom

those who bring up his more brutal violent side. He sees himself as a savior and martyr, literally giving his life-blood for others' enjoyment. So what if he takes their soul in the end? They had a more fulfilling life in their daydreams than they ever could in reality.

modern technologies thwart his powers

not getting to make a grand entrance

Short bio: Chelem is older than the memory of man. He was there when the first human hand scratched the shadowy outline of a mammoth into a wall. He was there for the first raising of a wall, for the first dreams of warm summer in frigid winter nights, for the first spark of creativity that turned shapeless rock into a flint dagger. As man grew, so did his power. While other fae shunned humanity, he saw in them the spark that has kept him fed for millennia. For humans, above all others, can dream. Through the centuries he has whispered into the ears of kings and alchemists, pauper revolutionaries and grand artists. He has led many to the path of destruction, just as he has led others to immortality through almost impossible deeds. And in return, they have woven for him a world of dreams. He cloaks his true guise in their hopes and fears. Though he lacks the imagination himself, his human pets have crafted for him a shell to live in, almost human but never quite right. He is a mocking reflection of the creatures he so deeply loves, and he is relentlessly ravenous for new ideas and new fantasies to build on his already lush imaginary world. For only there does he truly feel safe. In reality, his flesh is fragile and crumbling. He is wasting away in his own web, only barely clinging to existence with the bloody deaths of his followers. But the resurgence of the Stone is bolstering his powers, and through his quicksilver pills and his growing army, he finally sees a way to stabilize his form or, more terrifying still, to shed it completely and engulf Morrow in dream.

Life in Morrow: He runs a movie theater in the bad part of town. Little do his customers know that he sits above the crowd, not watching the flickering screen but focused on the rapt faces of the audience. He lives for their emotions, their wayward dreams and petty fantasies. Mr. Mercurial feeds on the imaginations of his customers, and has moved far beyond passively gathering their cast-off fancies. He has developed what he calls "quicksilver pills," an iridescent, silvery capsule sold to human, fae, shifter, and witch alike. While he claims they are nothing more than melatonin, they produce dreams so vivid and captivating that users can waste away, stuck in their dream world. Mr. Mercurial is slowly building an army of these Dreameaters, who wander the streets with glazed eyes and a metallic sheen across their lips before dying, desiccated and strangely opalescent. The human police are hot on the trail of what they believe is a new drug craze sweeping the streets of Morrow. But the magical inhabitants know better. Mr. Mercurial is amassing forces, building his own generator for energy as the magic in the world slowly drains away. And the more his power grows, the stronger his quicksilver pills become. They have gained strange new side effects which have the magical population of Morrow even more worried than the police. For Mr. Mercurial's Quicksilver pills can grant magic to humans. Now, this isn't true magic, merely an amplification of very small talents into one focused power. But while this magnifies magical talent, it works much like a magnifying glass channeling sunlight to fry bugs on the sidewalk. Dreameaters are starting to overpower, exploding (sometimes literally) with magical outbursts across the city.

Why do they want the Stone? He believes with the Stone he can magnify his powers enough to plunge the whole world into illusion (or as he says, "wake the world"). Though it may seem selfish, he truly believes the world will be better off if everyone succumbs to their fancies and is fully submerged in dreams. And with a growing force of Dreameaters at his disposal, he may just be in a position to find the Stone (and its unlucky Keeper) before the rest of the magical world of Morrow can get their hands and claws and unholy tentacles on it.

Greatest wish?

To build a world of dream strong enough for him to finally relinquish his fragile body.

Greatest fear? 

That the creativity of man is dying and that he'll slowly fade.

What 5 items would you put in a pentagram to summon them? Movie-theater popcorn, a reel of film, a dash of mercury, a bowtie, and the scent of lavender.

[lightgirlification]

Bungou Stray dogs, as you all know, is one of my favorite series and the promotional/official art is no different. They are some of the most beautiful pieces of art for an anime series I’ve ever seen. One of my favorites is the one with the flowers, which are featured here:

I actually tried to guess the flowers they are holding, even going so far as to look up examples and their meanings. Why? Because I am a sad 23 year old who has no life. <|...D;;;;;;

And THEN I found the actual flowers on the official Twitter for BSD and, no surprise, I got only one right. In fact the only one I got right was Atsushi’s. My favorite character had the flowers I guessed correctly. Made me feel a bit better to be honest. <¦3;;;;;;

So with that being said, you probably think I felt my hard work go to waste. But, no. I actually felt like my choices still were pretty damn good. I honestly like my choices better then the actual ones; mostly due to the meanings of the flowers.

So I figured I’d go over them here. I’ll also type the actual flower types that the characters are holding as well here:

John: Western flower ornithogalum: purity, such as hope. Chuuya: Camellia: not modest and unpretentious elegance and virtues of humility Tanazaki:  Diamond Lily: enjoying the days met and looking forward to happy memories, brilliance and perseverance (A/N: I kinda agree with this one) Kunikida:  "Sennichisou" flower: enduring love or forever in love Ranpo:  Tithonia diversifolia: The lucky person, graceful gesture, you are beautiful, happy (A/N: Again, kinda agree.) Akutagawa: Daffodils: Warm heart, waiting for you Dazai: Roses, Alyssum, Rindo: (A/N: I DID get the rose part right cause they were the easiest to recognize. Yellow roses mean “I won’t forget you”. Ow. Ow my heart. TTATT The other two’s symbolism weren’t given so feel free to look them up! ^0^)

And Atsushi’s flower is the one I got right so I’ll go over them in a bit.

And now lets move on to my choices. These are flowers that I felt looked like the ones shown as well as meanings I felt fit the character best.

Let’s start with John Steinbeck!

Actual Flower: Western flower Ornithogalum My choice: Star Of Bethlehem

Meaning:  “This delicate flower is primarily used to symbolize hope in life...The white color is used to represent innocence, purity and honesty.  This bloom may also be used to symbolize forgiveness after a problem. Problems may include a conflict between spouses or between friends.”

I felt this flower was closer to Steinbeck seeing as he does have a little sister and the meaning of said flower could represent her. The ‘forgiveness’ part might refer to him leaving and not returning for a long while. I really love the name too, Star of Bethlehem. Just...So pretty. X3

Next up, my man Chuuya Nakahara!

Actual Flower: Camellia My choice: Poppy

Meaning:  “Represents eternal sleep, oblivion, sacrifice and imagination. The flower also symbolizes magic, consolations, fertility and eternal life. Poppies are also symbolize war and death during war time.”

Now while the poppy doesn’t really look like Chuuya’s flower thanks to the middle, the petals and the meaning match perfectly. The fact these flowers mean ‘oblivion’ accurately describes Chuuya’s ability. If he goes too long with his true power unleashed, he will end up dying, hence the ‘eternal sleep/sacrifice’ part. Fun fact! These were the flowers used in the Wizard of Oz that made Dorthy and the Lion fall asleep. My Great Grandma actually grew them in her garden and that’s how my grandpa got is nickname! X3

Next in line is our cloaking ability user Tanizaki Junichirou!

Actual Flower: Diamond Lily My choice: Jasmine Flower

Meaning: “The jasmine flower is associated with love, beauty, and sensuality. In some cultures, Jasmine represents appreciation and good luck. When used in religious ceremonies jasmine represents purity. Jasmine’s meanings varies depending on the culture and setting.”

This flower pretty much hits the nail on the head for Tanazaki and his affections for his sister and her in general.

Quickly moving on ((Sorry Tanizaki <|D;;;; )) we have idealist Kunikida Doppo!

Actual Flower: "Sennichisou" flower My choice: Allium

Meaning: “Symbolizes good fortune and prosperity. Allium can also mean unity, humility and patience.”

While this plant can be big balls of tiny flowers there are some small species of it, at least from what I researched. Kunikida is a no nonsense man who has many ideals and ambitions. He does his best to have the agency run at a good pace, with varied results due to some of our favs being, well, ‘full of energy’ as I put it. XDDD He also tries to keep the team focused, he knows humility from being someone who wants to save everyone but knows he can’t whilst also will listen to criticism and tries to better himself, and while he does have outbursts and a short temper he does have patience and can keep a cool head when faced with danger. He’s the kind of level headed companion/partner that the agency needs and I have a ton of respect for this man.

You don’t need to be a detective to know next up is Ranpo Edogawa!

Actual Flower: Tithonia diversifolia My choice: ‘French’ Marigold

Meaning:  “Known as the "Herb of the Sun" and are symbolic of passion and creativity. The Welsh believed that if marigolds were not open early in the morning, then a storm was on the way...Water made from marigolds was thought to induce psychic visions of fairies if rubbed on the eyelids. In some cultures, marigold flowers have been added to pillows to encourage prophetic or psychic dreams.”

Do I really need to go into why this flower fits Ranpo? It’s pretty much spelled out for you with it meaning ‘passion and creativity’ and how water made from said marigold is said to induce psychic visions and/or dreams which can also be prophetic. Super Deduction my ass, Ranpo’s been doing marigolds! LOL Jk jk XDDD

Onto the biggest tsunderes in this series and the one we need to always pray for please Asagiri don’t leT THIS BOY KEEL OVER AND LEAVE US-*Clears throat* Sorry...Akutagawa Ryunosuke!

Actual Flower: Daffodils My flower: ...Wait... I DID choose this flower...Huh...Well I found better explanation for it’s symbolism so leave me alone! dX<

Meaning: “Has contradictory meanings. It represents unrequited love, vanity as well as good fortune. Daffodils also symbolize regard, chivalry, long lasting friendship, happiness, and good wishes.”

Like the meaning itself, Akutagawa can be very contradictory at times. On one hand he is calm and can handle his own on a mission but on the other he has a very angry mental state and will lash out when he is looked down upon or someone else is getting Dazai-Senpai’s attention. *Cough*Atsushi*Cough* Which is where the ‘unrequited love’ comes in at least in the beginning. It is shown at the end of the guild ark that Dazai does truly care for Akutagawa, most likely even knowing he screwed up with him and his learned lesson is shown through his interactions with Atsushi. Both boys mean a lot to Dazai and I know he’s proud of both. He should just...Not give too much praise to our sickly mafia child in short intervals. Seriously, if Akutagawa fainted from just one form of praise/acknowledgment from Dazai then constant praise would most likely give the poor boy a coronary!

Now it’s time for our favorite tiger shifter and precious being, Atsushi Nakajima!

Actual Flower and My choice: Lily of the Valley

Meaning: “Represents sweetness and the return of happiness. It can also symbolize humility. When the lily of the valley blooms, happiness is said to return... Because of the belief in the healing powers of this plant, it is often known as the ‘ladder to heaven’ or ‘Jacob's tears’. Legend tells that Mary's tears turned to the lily of the valley when she cried at the cross. This is the reason for the third alternate name, ‘Mary's tears’.

This flower is Atsushi; plain and simple. He’s generous, very kind, and extremely sweet. He’s been subjected to so much and yet he still has a heart of gold, taking his mistakes to heart and thinks about how he can better himself. And you bet your ass that when he smiles happiness returns. He just blooms and everyone else is doomed XDDDD Hey I rhymed! 8D Also there is a legend about this flower where it fell in love with a nightingale. Just the thought of two polar opposites falling in love even though they are so different, species obviously included, is so romantic to me. Gee, I wonder who this legend reminds me of. >|3c Yeah yeah it’s Dazushi shush. >¦T

And last but certainly not least, our favorite suicidal maniac Dazai Osamu!

Now I saved Dazai for last seeing as he has more then one flower and all, of course, contain different meanings. Let us go over them!

Actual Flower(s):  Roses, Alyssum, Rindo

My choice(s):  Roses, Lily, Heliotrope

We’ll start with the obvious one, the yellow roses. 

“In general, they represent  Long associated with the sun and its life-giving warmth, yellow is the age-old spokes-color for warm feelings of friendship and optimism. In many Eastern cultures, the color represents joy, wisdom and power...the history of the yellow rose in particular has an optimistic, serendipitous character that really makes it the complete package. By the 18th century the worldwide love of roses was in full swing, but they were only cultivated in shades of pink and white. At last, the elusive yellow rose was discovered growing wild in the Middle East, and the European love affair with yellow roses was born. The early yellow rose lacked the sweet scent for which the rose is famous, however, which was not to be tolerated. So, as cultivation methods were developed and refined, the beloved sweet-and-spicy rose scent was soon introduced and the yellow rose achieved all its optimistic and aromatic glory.”

As described, yellow roses are happy flowers! They have a warm, inviting feeling that provides happiness, wisdom, and power; three things Dazai has plenty of. Especially the joy I mean have you seen him? The joy is RADIATING from this man XDDD Well, to an extent, as we know most of that joy is a front cause of what he’s gone through dear GOD boy let us love you or better yet let ATSUSHI love you! Anyway XDDD As I wrote in the beginning, yellow roses can also mean, “I won’t forget you”, obviously referencing Oda. Dammit whose cutting onions...? TT^TT

Moving on to the Lily.

While white lilies symbolize chastity and virtue – and were the symbol of the Virgin Mary’s purity and her role of Queen of the Angels – as other varieties became popular, they brought with them additional meanings and symbolism as well. Peruvian lilies, or alstroemeria, represent friendship and devotion, white stargazer lilies express sympathy and pink stargazer lilies represent wealth and prosperity. Symbolizing humility and devotion, lilies are the 30th anniversary flower - while lilies of the valley are the 2nd wedding anniversary flower.  As the flowers most often associated with funerals, lilies symbolize that the soul of the departed has received restored innocence after death. Pretty much all about friendship and death and ODA WHHHHHHY QAQ

Yeah this flower fits. Humility and devotion? You bet your ass Dazai has both. Sympathy and prosperity? The man has some of the best development in this story guys, don’t deny it. Wealth? Uh.......Let’s skip that one! ^0^;;;;;  The part that gets me though is the ‘restored innocence after death’. Just...Just that thought of Oda at peace being with the kids looking over Dazai with a smile just-just-GAH SO MUCH FEEL BUT SO MUCH NICE <X......3

Wait a second...Dazai, in my eyes, is holding a lily...and another breed of lily, the Lilies of the Valley, are 2nd wedding anniversary flowers...And Atsushi is holding...

O^O..........................

I DID NOT PLAN THIS SHIPPING MATERIAL BUT I AM PLEASED WITH MYSELF

And finally the last flower of this long post, the heliotrope!

Because of its striking beauty and alluring scent, the heliotrope plant has found its way into myth and storytelling. One of the best known stories is of Clytie, a water nymph, who was deeply in love with the sun god Helios – or, in some versions, Apollo. This god, however, had his eye on the princess Leukothoe, and one day abandoned Clytie for her. Finding that she had been forsaken, she spent the rest of her days pining away. Upon her death Helios, taking pity on the forlorn nymph whom he had slighted, turned her body into the heliotrope plant. Ever faithful to her beloved, the plant dutifully followed the sun every day. Other tales tell of this plant having a prophetic effect on sleep; dreaming of the plant itself is said to represent unrequited love, while heliotrope oils are thought to bring about prognostic dreams. Other folkloric tales show this plant’s place in rituals. For instance, if you pick a heliotrope blossom in the month of August and use it for good, then good things will come back to you; if, on the other hand, you use it with bad intentions, the wickedness will be turned around on you ten-fold. In addition to having a varied history in folklore, the heliotrope plant is also considered very useful in alternative medicine and cosmetics. The essential oils are used to help fight fatigue, and are also placed in many perfumes and lotions; while tinctures are made from this plant to help cure viral infections, cleanse the blood, and clear out congested lymphatic systems. This plant was once referred to as the herb of love, which is not surprising as, in general, they are thought to symbolize devotion. In addition to being a romantic emblem, heliotropes are also thought to have a religious bearing; representing a hope for salvation – or “turning towards” God. As a gift, these lovely plants are often given in decorative pots or within small container gardens.

Well if THIS doesn’t flower speaks volumes... First off the legend of this flower just works; why? Let me explain:

The water nymph was in love with the sun god but was abandoned and left behind. Feeling sorry for the nymph, who remained in love with the same god until her death, the sun god turned her into the heliotrope, which always followed the sun everywhere it went everyday.  Think about it, when Oda died Dazai was totally heart broken, and there is no doubt in my mind that he still is. Oda’s death is, in a way, abandonment to Dazai because...well you can’t necessarily come back from the dead can you? Oda was the only person Dazai felt he could truly rely on, and whether it was platonic or not the brunette loved him. Losing someone that close to your heart isn’t just a loss of a person, it’s losing a piece of yourself and as that freaking hurts. But then Oda gives Dazai a purpose to continue his life and Dazai follows through with it, matching up with the sun god turning the nymph into a flower. It may seem a little far fetched but the similarities are definitely there. And this not only transitions into more devotion cause Dazai still has tons of that lol XDDD but also into the religious meaning:

“Hope of Salvation”

JUST-JUST GAH

This flower encompasses everything that Dazai’s promise to Oda means. Seriously, the hope is to achieve the salvation Oda would want for the brunette. Excuse me while I curl onto a ball and start bawling thank you.

Phew that was a long post, but damn am I proud of it! X3

Hope you all enjoyed my insight on a random piece of official art because like I said, I have no life and way too much time on my hands XDDD;;;;;;;