#so we became the Dawn Stars totally against our will

[jojosbizarrefanfics]

fun sex with kakashi? maybe reader teases him with a knowledge of icha icha paradise that he didn’t know she had? i just want him to be laughing and happy for once

oh god I LOVE this prompt for Kakashi so much 👏👏 v excited to write this one!

“Hey, sorry I’m a bit late,” you said as you took your next across from Kakashi at the izakaya. You placed a hand on his shoulder as you sat and he looked up at you. You could see him smile beneath his face mask.

“Oh, you’re fine,” he said. “Everything okay?”

“Very chatty student,” you said with a chuckle. “You know how it gets.”

“Oh, yeah,” he said in understanding; there were times where he would have paid anything to shut Naruto up. “Don’t worry about it.”

Your drinks came shortly after; you had visited this place enough with Kakashi that he had your order memorized. You thanked him for being on the ball and admired his face as he slipped his mask down to take a sip of his own.

Kakashi was one of your best friends, now the Hokage. And by God, was he beautiful. You’d never told him that, of course, and now that he was Hokage you were sure you didn’t stand a chance. He could have anyone.

“What are you reading?” You asked. Kakashi answered by raising an eyebrow as he sipped his drink. “You have a book tucked beneath your arm,” you observed. “Were you reading while you waited for me?”

“Oh, it’s nothing,” Kakashi said. The smile that graced his face was nervous. “Nothing I haven’t read a thousand times before.”

You grinned. “A thousand times before? Can I see?”

Kakashi panicked internally but knew it would make it worse as he stopped you from reaching across your table for two. He was grateful that you were in your usual, private corner when you flipped open to wear the book was dog-earred.

“Oh, and here I was thinking you were joking around when you carried this with you everywhere,” you teased. “Ah, but you’re at my favorite part.”

Kakashi thought he was going to choke on his drink. “You have a favorite part?” He leaned forward. “You’ve read those?”

“Oh, yeah,” you said. “The next scene is so romantic, don’t you think? When he takes her to the tower and they’re looking at the stars... it’s so dreamy.”

Kakashi’s face turned red. You left out, of course, that they were looking at the stars as the main character fucked his heroine over a desk in a high tower.

“Yeah,” Kakashi said as he cleared his throat. “Romantic is one way to put it, I suppose.”

You handed him his book back. It promptly went in his lap.

“You all right?” You asked Kakashi. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he said as he shifted in his seat. Kakashi was not all right, but he needed to play it cool. “Just... wasn’t expecting that from you.”

You smirked. “What can I say? I’m full of surprises.”

Kakashi could feel his face heating up and was grateful for the dim lighting in the bar. You still noticed his blush, but didn’t say anything. You just kept a mental note of that.

As you wrapped up your catching up and bar snacks, Kakashi said, “I know I normally walk you home, but I have to swing by the office. I left some things behind. Do you want to come with me before I walk you home?”

“Yeah, it’s a nice night anyway,” you said with a smile.

His mask was back on once you left the izakaya, and he was oddly quiet the whole way. The streets were pretty quiet as it was getting fairly late, but between your skills as a shinobi and Kakashi being the hokage, you didn’t feel anything other than safe despite the silence.

Once you got to his office, Kakashi closed and locked the door behind him. He pulled his mask down; that was odd, you thought. While you had seen his face plenty of times before whenever you’d meet at the izakaya weekly to catch up, he usually still opted to wear it when he wasn’t eating or drinking.

“I... don’t have anything I need from here, actually,” Kakashi confessed. You rose a brow at him and then, once you realized the room you were in, it dawned on you.

Kakashi saw you figuring it out on your face and he was certain you’d be mad, but you just gaped at him jokingly and said, “Kakashi! Trying to get all smooth with me, now, are you?”

Kakashi laughed nervously. “You said you thought that part was romantic. You even called it your favorite!”

You laughed and grabbed a hold of his hand. You lead him towards his desk where you had a better view out the window if you leaned against the back of it. You could see the whole village from here, with a beautiful view of the stars.

“It is lovely up here, though,” you said. You leaned your head against his arm. Kakashi smiled down at you. “Your attempt at being smooth worked.”

“If I had known you liked Icha Icha, I’d have brought you up here sooner,” Kakashi said.

“There’s a lot more to than scene than the stargazing that I like, but this is nice too,” you admitted.

Kakashi laughed. “Whoa! You don’t get to just say something like that and then drop it like it’s nothing.”

You pushed some of your hair back. “Don’t pretend like you don’t know what I’m getting at, Hatake.”

“Excuse you,” he replied with a fake gasp of offense at your attitude, “that’s Hokage to you.”

It was your turn to laugh. You decided to lay your response on thick. “Alright then, Hokage-sama.”

Kakashi’s stomach dropped at the way you said Hokage-sama. It was part playful, part sexy, and the honorific was unexpected. He couldn’t help himself any longer and kissed you. Your hands found his hair as you melted into Kakashi’s kiss, and he already knew he couldn’t get enough of the way you tugged at it.

Kakashi had struggled for a long time with his feelings. It was hard for him to get too close to anyone these days, but you made it so easy, and your weekly izakaya dates made Kakashi feel like you were his home. Kissing you felt right, he thought, and he was mad at himself for not acting on this sooner since it seemed like you were in the same boat of harboring affections.

“Do you want me to bend you over my desk so we can watch the stars?” Kakashi asked against your mouth. “It’s your favorite part of the book after all, isn’t it?”

“Will all of Konoha see us with these windows?” You asked between kisses.

“And what would they gonna do about it if they could?” Kakashi asked with a smug grin. “I’m the Hokage, after all.”

You laughed. “Well then, what are you waiting for, Hokage-sama?”

That was all Kakashi needed to start stripping you of your clothes. Your vests were first to fall forgotten to the floor, the kunai you kept in yours causing them to hit the ground with a soft clank. You and Kakashi didn’t rush your disrobing, but slowly helped each other remove your garments one by one.

“So did I totally mess up our friendship, or what?” Kakashi asked as he kissed your neck.

“Depends on how you define mess up,” you said. “If you mean ‘never be able to go into my friend’s office and look him in the eye at his desk without having to touch myself afterwords,’ then absolutely.”

He laughed pretty loudly as he cupped one of your bare breasts in his hand. “I think I can live with that. I’d like to think of you getting off to me when you’re alone, all riled up after a meeting with the Hokage. Naughty girl.”

You both giggled at his playful teasing and then Kakashi bent you over his desk. You could see the view out the window of the village and the clear night sky, just like in Icha Icha Paradise.

You felt one of Kakashi’s hands grip tightly at your ass. Meanwhile, with his free hand, he dipped two fingers into you.

“How long have you wanted this?” Kakashi asked as he slowly pumped his fingers in and out of you. “With me?”

It was hard to speak without moaning, but you managed a, “Longer than I’d care to admit.”

He sighed. “I really am a fool, huh? We could have been doing this much sooner. Hey, can you do me a favor and reach in that front left desk drawer?”

His nonchalance as he fingered you was typical Kakashi, but you managed to open it. You could safely assume the box of condoms was what he was looking for, so you fetched one for him.

“Thanks,” he said. “Iruka got me these as a joke when I became Hokage. Said he thought I might need ‘em.”

You held back a snort. “We’ll have to ask him how to perform the foresight jutsu.”

Kakashi laughed. You already missed the feeling of his fingers in you when he withdrew them to unwrap the condom, but it wasn’t long before you were filled with Kakshi’s cock. He started off slow but quickly upped the pace, landing on one when he heard you moan in a way that nearly made him cum early from how sweet the sound was.

The sensation of Kakashi filling you completely, gripping at your hips, and of your nipples rubbing against the smooth surface of his desk combined nearly sent you over the edge. What did you in was Kakashi’s deep voice moaning your name, a pleasure you only thought you’d experience in your dreams.

Kakashi, meanwhile, was convinced that you were made for each other as he felt your pussy clench in orgasm on his cock. He kept thrusting, intensifying your own orgasm the whole way.

When Kakashi came, you both stayed in that position for a moment as you caught your breath. Once he pulled out, he side-stepped to help you stand. Your legs were a bit wobbly, but Kakashi had you in his arms as you stood. He dumped the condom in the nearest trash bin and was quick to walk back to you.

“I’ll clean this up in the morning,” he said as he referenced his desk’s messy state. You helped each other get dressed and along the way, Kakashi would sneak kisses on your cheek here and there.

Your walk home was as quiet as your walk to his office was, except now Kakashi was holding your hand. When you reached your home, you broke the silence.

“Do you wanna stay the night?”

Kakashi nodded. “I’d like that.”

[niqhtlord01]

Humans are Weird: Cyber Warfare

The shift back to real space was never something one became used to. It was a feeling as if the bones in your very body were being ripped from your screaming flesh while you remained fully aware of every nerve and pain cluster in your body as it screamed out in mind numbing agony. 

High Marshal Volgrim had performed the process so many times he had stopped counting as he deemed it hardly worth his time and effort; but what he did remember was the pain of each transition. That, was something he could not easily forget nor repress. 

“Navigation, give me location and baring.”

“Coms, I want our command beacon broadcasting for every ship to hone in on as they exit the jump.”

“Weapons, I want the guns unlocked from storage and primed within the next forty seconds”

“Engineering, give me a report on ship wide systems and then raise shields to maximum if permissible.” 

“Radar, give me contacts a full sweep of the surrounding space.”

Though the High Marshall was still rubbing his closed eyes to ease the pain his orders were crisp and direct. He knew his crew would need a moment as well to recover but a moment was all he could spare them. 

“Star charts coming in now; we’re at the edge of the Hyperion System.” 

“Readings confirmation codes from the Shveron, Mulbo, Tapis Dawn, and Kalbrum fleets now emerging alongside us now.”

“Gunnery teams report arc cannons are primed and ready to fire. Javelin batteries are still connecting coolant pipes now. ETA 60 seconds till ready to fire.”

“Engineering reports all systems are showing positive. Shields raised at full power, no fluctuations.”  

Volgrim nodded with every reply as if checking off a list in his head. The rhythm of the checking was interrupted by the noticeable lack of reply from the officer radar station. 

“Radar, report.” 

The commotion on the bridge of his flagship would have deafened lesser captains but to Volgrim he had become so used to it he could even hear a pin drop over the murmur and be able to point which station it had fallen from. So when the radar officer failed to reply once again volgrim opened his eyes and looked directly at the officer. 

“Officer Murbak,” he began with his voice rising, “re-”. 

Officer Murbak held up a hand to the High Marshall and continued observing his display. 

Having trained each of his bridge crew himself, Volgrim knew full well that one of his men would not act in such a disrespectful manner unless it was something urgent. 

Without saying a word Volgrim rose from his command throne and slithered over to the Murbak’s station, his thousand tiny feet across his segmented body pattering against the metal body sounding like rain atop a roof. He leaned over Murbak and took note of the display console. 

“What do you see lad?” 

Murbak’s dozen arms were twisting and adjusting a handful of knobs on the console as the image in the display shifted over and over. 

“Shortly after we came out of our jump we detected several enemy markers.” Murbak replied as he continued to adjust the knobs. 

Volgrim looked over the display. “The radar shows nothing there lad.” 

At this Murbak broke his gaze at the display and turned his worried eyes at his high marshal. “I know what I saw sir. They’re out there.” 

Turning his gaze to the main view port Volgrim took stock of what lay before them. 

The fleet had arrived at the very edge of the Hyperion system, home to a newly founded human colony that had imprisoned traders of Volgrim’s people, known as Vukori, after a dispute at the space port turned violent. Naturally the Vukori government had seen this act as a direct act of aggression and dispatched the High Marshall with several fleets to punish the wayward humans. 

The Hyperion system was surrounded by a thick nebula of gases that were now playing havoc with the sensor equipment. Volgrim trained his eyes on the swirling masses of green and orange clouds as they danced in space.

As the clouds drifted apart for a moment Volgrim’s eyes shot open as he saw for the briefest of moments the reflection of a metallic object in the gas. 

“All hands to battle stations!” Volgrim cried out as he returned to his command throne. 

He had no need for his radar officer to give him a confirmation, his concerns had been vindicated. The humans had hidden their fleet inside the nebula to hide it from sensor readings and no doubt had planned to ambush the Vukori fleets as they entered. 

“Assemble the fleets into a wedge formation. I don’t want us being picked apart one by one.” 

Though he had only seen one ship in the clouds he was sure more were hiding. With his fleets dispersed from their jump exit they could easily be picked apart one by one, but by concentrating them they would be able to fully bring their might to bear. 

As if sensing their plan had been discovered the first of the human ships began emerging from the nebula. Their hulls were of a steel grey that reflected the green and oranges of the clouds around them like a patchwork of modern art and their frames resembled sea faring vessels of their primitive years without the sails of fabric and masts. 

“Give me a count Mr. Murbak.” Volgrim called out as he watched each new enemy vessel pull forward. 

“I count five battleship class, 7 cruiser class, and fourteen destroyers.”

“Keep an eye on that nebula Mr. Murbk, there could be more hiding in there.” “Aye, aye!” 

Volgrim cradled his head between his arms and pondered the situation. The human fleet was roughly half their total fleet size but also was at the disadvantage of lacking heavy ships compared to the Vukori fleet. Yet Volgrim was well aware that humans had an annoying habit for implementing unconventional tactics when outnumbered that often saw them win the day or at the very least inflict serious casualties against their foe. This was the first step of the war with the humans and Volgrim was not sure if he could replace any losses he sustained so early on in the campaign. 

“Mr. Huckval,” Volgrim called to the communications officer, “ order all ships to keep their distance from the human vessels and turn their scanners to maximum range. I want them reading everything within a 300km distance from us.” He leaned over and gave a hard gaze at Huckval. “If so much as a asteroid the size of a finger floats this way I want to know of it.” 

Huckval relayed the high marshalls orders fleet wide as the Vukori fleets finished arranging themselves into formation. 

“High Marshall, we are receiving a communication.” 

“From which fleet?” 

Huckval shook his head. “It’s not from one of ours but from the human fleet.”

“Interesting. Put them through, fleet wide.” 

After a brief moment a picture appeared on the view port and for the first time Volgrim saw his enemy; or so he thought. 

The image on the screen was constantly shifting and only ever holding image steady for a few moments before shifting again into a blizzard of static. When the image was holding steady Volgrim could barely make out the image of a human figure in a deep blue uniform with short cropped hair. 

“Mr. Huckval, what is the meaning of this?” 

The comms officer looked embarrassed and hurried back to his station just as the human figure began to speak. 

“THIS IS ADMIRAL PYRE OF THE 3RD FLEET.” The voice was drowning and at such volume that it hurt the ears of everyone on the command deck. 

“Cease your shouting human!” cried Volgrim as he covered his ears in pain. 

Admiral Pyre looked confused when the image steady and looked off screen as if talking to someone. 

“WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?” The admiral continued. “ I AM TALKING NORMALLY.” 

Volgrim brought his hands down hard on the arms of his command throne. “You are shouting at the top of your tiny lungs!” 

Pyre looked off screen once again before turning back. “THERE MUST BE A PROBLEM WITH THE TRANSMISSION BEING SO CLOSE TO THE NEBULA.” Pyre said, taking a apologetic look. “I AM TERRIBLY SORRY FOR ANY INCONVENIENCE CAUSED.” 

Volgrim turned to Huckval and motioned to end the transmission with a wave of his hand. The picture on the view port was instantly cut and replaced again by the view of open space and the human fleet. 

The crew were slowly recovering from the audio assault on their ears. Volgrim was turning to Huckval when the engineering officers voice rose up in alarm. 

“High Marshall! We are reading arc cannons charging up!” 

Volgrim spun around. “I gave no such order!” he barked. “Whose ship is daring to defy me?!” 

The engineering officer looked scared at his commanders anger but continued his report. “Shveron and Mulbo fleets are showing increasing energy readings.” 

Volgrim was confused at this. Both fleets were commanded by commanders he had served with on numerous campaigns and neither had ever shown such defiance before. 

“Confirm readings and contact-”

The engineering officer cut him off. “We are now reading energy spikes from the Tapis Dawn and Kalbrum fleets as well!” 

“Something is wrong.” 

Volgrim put his thoughts to words as the new report came in. “Mr. Huckval, get me the commanders of all fleets on the line this instant. We need to find out what the gulgut is going on!” 

Huckval turned to his console and began dialing in when suddenly a spark of energy discharged from his station. Huckval was able to jump back in the nick of time but the energy discharge fried the console entirely. 

“Repair crew to the bridge!” Huckval called out. 

Things were spinning out of control one after another and all Volgrim could do was watch. 

All of a sudden a red warning lights began flashing across the bridge and the radar officer pushed people aside to get to Volgrim.

“Sir! Three ships of fleet Shveron just exploded!”

“WHAT?!”

Hammering in keys into his command throne Volgrim brought up the display of his fleet and indeed saw that three ships were gone.

Volgrim roared and grabbed Murbak by the neck and hoisted him into the air. 

“Why wasn’t I told the enemy started firing on us!?”

Murbak was shaking and clawing at his neck. 

“The humans didn’t fire! They didn’t fire!!”

Four more ship icons flared red and vanished from the screen before Volgrim’s eyes. “Status report, now!” 

Murbak scrambled back to his console and keyed in several commands. 

“The ships were destroyed from internal explosions, not enemy weapons fire.” 

“Explain!” The confusion was only adding to his continued frustration as Murbak continued reading the scrolling information. 

“From the readings it looks like their arc cannons detonated from a build up of ene-”

“FLEET WIDE BROADCAST!” Volgrim shouts in alarm realizing the danger they were now in. “DISCONNECT POWER SUPPLIES TO ARC CANNONS!”

“Communications are still fired sir, we can’t send a message out.” Huckval called as the repair team arrived and began quickly disassembling the burnt out communications console. 

Volgrim watched as more and more ships in his fleet began blinking out as their arc cannons reached critical mass and detonated. 

Another sound of alarms began ringing out and to his mounting horror Volgrim knew instantly what they were. He turned to his gunnery officer to see him sprinting out of the bridge. 

“Where are you going?!” Volgrim shouted over the blaring alarms. 

“I have to disconnect the cannons or we’re all dead!” the officer shouted over his shoulder as he scuttled as fast as he could out of the bridge to the nearest access hatch and descended to the gunnery decks. 

The flagship was beginning to shudder as the mounting energy in the cannons became increasingly unstable. The energy was meant to be fired outwards in an arc when at critical mass and trigger immense damage to enemy ships. But without firing coordinates the weapons muzzles had remained shut as more and more energy was being poured into each cannon.

Consoles now across the bridge were sparking and exploding as the crew darted back and forth all  the while Volgrim sat upon his throne. 

He knew his gunnery officer would never make it to the gunnery deck in time and so resigned himself to his final moments. 

With vengeful eyes he gazed out at the human armada before him and cursed them with his final breath just as the arc cannons exploded and ripped his ship in two.

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“Confirm, enemy flagship is down.” 

The human radar officer confirmed the readings once more and nodded. “Half the enemy fleet has been destroyed. The remaining portions appear on the verge of detonation or attempting to flee out of system.”

“Permission to fire?” the gunnery officer inquired, eager to get the final blow in. 

Admiral Pyre shook his head, a faint grin crossing his face. “Save the ammunition for another day.” 

Pyre looked away from the view port and stepped over to a special portion of his bridge. The area was filled with consoles and screens reading off seemingly endless streams of data that the staff present monitored and altered as needed. 

He stepped behind one officer who promptly turned and saluted smartly.  He returned the salute crisply. “At ease.” 

The officer lowered her arm and motioned for her staff to disperse. “I would say your program was a success.” 

To Pyre’s surprise he saw her shake her head. “Hardly. We were only able to implement it through the transmission because of the audio distraction and even then it took nearly twenty five seconds to spread fleet wide. We were lucky that they did not employ any tactical ai programs otherwise they would have detected the cyber spike and contained it.” 

She handed him a large folder. “This is a list of all the features we can improve upon and requisitions for better equipment for future engagements.” 

He took it and skimmed through a few of the front pages before closing it and tucking it under his shoulder. “I shall give it a more detailed inspection later tonight but rest assured you will be provided with everything you need.”

She looked puzzled at this. “But you haven’t even read what I’ve asked for.” 

Pyre nodded and smiled. “True, but I have already seen what you can deliver.” He motioned her to the view screen as dozens of enemy ships exploded in the distance. Bright blue arcs of energy shooting out and ripping metal hulls apart like paper as the remaining ships made futile attempts to jump away. 

“Do you have any idea how many lives of my sailors you saved today?” 

Pyre gazed out at the destruction and kept his smile. “Because of you and your teams work you have delivered a critical blow to our enemies without endangering a single one of them.”

He turned to her and fixed her with a serious stare. “Not. A. Single. One.” He said the words slowly to let that sink in. “They will not only go on to serve the navy in future battles and wars, but also be able to one day go home to their loving families because of your hard work; and I think that is worth more than a few million dollars of computers and cable.” 

She coughed and tapped her leg nervously. 

“It will, uh, be roughly a billion dollars in computers, and, ugh, cables; sir.” 

Pyre looked at her, then back at the destruction she had wrought. 

“I’ll see if we can cancel a battleship production to divert the needed funds once we return to port.” 

Before she could reply Pyre turned and left the bridge to report the victory they had achieved back to the homeworld leaving the human fleet to watch the destruction of their enemies unfold from the stroke of a few keys. 

[jay-and-dean]

Firefly  Chapter 5 : Eighteen years old

By Roonyxx and Jay-and-dean

Pairings : future Dean x reader ?

Summary :  40 years in Hell, but he didn’t spend all this time all alone, he had her.

Prepare to know what happened during those years Dean never talks about. To immerge yourself in Hell, only lit by the mysterious kid growing here…

And to see some of your favorite villains again : Crowley, Lilith, Lucifer… And also Sammy and Jack…

Serie Warnings : Hurt!Dean, Hell (torture, even if we tried to not give it graphic descriptions, creepy demons, blood, violence), swearing, angst, future fluff and smut.

This story is in both Reader’s POV and Dean’s POV

Wordcount : 6300 (big chapter)

Note : This is our second collaboration. We can’t both edit the same post, so we decided we would post 1 chapter/2 each, like we did for Same.

We both worked as much on this story and it’s the result of both our brains but also both our hearts.

Please, if you want to show love for this story, don’t forget we were together in this.

This story will be around 10 chapters and we intend to edit it every Saturday if nothing delays it. The story will be on a little hiatus because both @jay-and-dean​ and I are on holidays. Once we come back the story will continue it’s regular weekly edit.

Firefly Chapter 1

Firefly Chapter 2

Firefly Chapter 3

Firefly Chapter 4

Jay’s Masterlist

Roonyxx Masterlist

——————————————————————————

5. Eighteen years old.

When she turned sixteen, Crowley had told her the time of being childish was over, not that she ever had time to be a child. And for once, she didn’t fight him or argue. She had understood that she would never win by being an enemy. 

They had to trust her, to give her freedom and access to the secrets of Hell… 

So she became his apprentice and after two long years of following his rules and pretending to care, she was getting closer and closer everyday to her goal.

Getting out of Hell.

She grew colder with age, serious, harsh, anything they wanted her to be. Some days, she barely remembered it was an act, she was getting used to give orders and look at her surroundings with always the same dark threatening eyes. She was becoming the Queen Crowley wanted her to be. 

But when she visited him, the man she fell in love with years ago, she remembered who she was.

And the demons were falling right into her trap, she had to get close to them, especially her father. Crowley knew the way out, he knew everything about Hell, everything she needed to know. So she played him.

She was sitting on a chair as Crowley explained to her the importance of crossroad deals, she wasn’t really listening as she let her pencil float in circles in front of her.

She could feel the shivers on her back as the door opened, the pencil dropped to the table.

Lilith.

“Crowley, we need to talk,” her head snapped towards Y/n. “Alone.”

Crowley sighed deep.

“Y/n go finish up your work in your room” he snapped his fingers and mentioned to a demon to escort her back to her room.

She held her chin high as she walked out of the door towards her room, the demon hot on her heels.

When, she walked right past her door, the demon grasped her arm.

“Where do you think you’re going, missy.” 

With the flick of her wrist she had the demon pinned against the wall, she stepped closer to him and tilted her head to the side as she could hear the creature whine under her powers.

“That’s none of your business and when you get back you’ll tell them nothing, understand ?”

She clenched her fist, making the creature crack on the inside.

“Y-yes…” it whined.

“Yes who ?” she clenched her fist harder. 

“Yes… y-your majesty.” 

She released the demon and watched him scramble off. She turned around and made her way to Dean’s cell.

She no longer had to sneak around, the story of her taking on Alistair had spread like fire, and her growing attitude was convincing enough, all the demons were afraid of her now. They knew she was strong, that she became stronger every day. She could feel it : the power coursing through her veins. It made her more confident, and merciless.

She reached his door and carefully pushed it  open, a smile gracing her face when she saw him.

Dean.

She was just in time, he was healed and conscious.

He lifted his head, as she came near. 

“Hey Firefly.” 

“Hi Dean.”

Every time she was near him she could feel it, the tickling in her stomach, her cheeks heated up. As fierce as she was, she got a little nervous around him, not much but seeing him always gave her a thrill. Over the years she had noticed how handsome he was, and her thoughts wandered more and more towards him when she was alone, what if they weren’t in Hell, what if she was more his age, what if…  

He sat up against the wall, letting out a deep breath.

“I could swear I heard the demons talk about you the other day.” he said. 

She tilted her head in question.

“The Queen of fire they called you, they seem scared of you. Maybe I dreamed it… I get confused, and...”

She sat down in front of him, she looked down at her hands.

“And you ?” she asked him softly, she was scared of his answer.

“What ?” he frowned. 

“Scared of me ?” she looked up at him, she could feel the tears threatening to spill out.

“No, I’m not.” He shook his head.

She nodded in silence, that was good, she was working hard to be scary, but couldn't bear the thought of Dean being afraid of her.

“You’re growing so fast, Firefly. How old are you ?” his voice contained some kind of disbelieve, like he didn’t realize it had already been around 18 years since he first saw her.

“18.” She said, giving him a small smile. 

“Time down here, it goes so slow and so fast at the same time” he scoffed.

A silence fell among them, he seemed to be better today, he was more alert and could muster up a little smile now and then. He seemed to think hard, she noticed a frown etched upon his forehead every time he tried to focus on something, the moment he was totally there were rare, maybe even more lately.

“Your powers… what are they ?” he asked. 

“I don’t know” she shrugged, she couldn’t tell him she was half demon… then he would be scared of her, hate her at least.

“You seem to be getting stronger.” he said matter of factly.

She nodded, they had to change her chains monthly now, she could break them with a snap of her fingers. Her powers were like a child going through a growth spurt where the parents couldn't keep up with buying new clothes.

Her powers weren’t the only thing changing, her body was too. She grew taller, the childish features were disappearing from her face, and her old dresses no longer fit her more curved body. She was becoming a women. A beautiful one, Crowley said, hopefully beautiful enough for their Lord. 

_______________________

It was evening, at least, she had decided it was. In Hell no sunrise and no dawn, but she had found a little watch, it had belonged to her teacher’s vessel she snatched it off him, along with his arm. It was an old watch, with metal gears and little carved hands. On her desk, the ancient watch was in the center, and Y/n used it to rhythm her days. 

Nine p.m. it said, so she lit up a candle and turned off the other lights. She liked to feel the time, and darkness didn’t prevent her from reading.

She turned the old pages of the huge book she was reading, a incredible boring work about Hell’s places, how many bones were in the columns of the throne room, how the corridors were never exactly the same, how only demons, reapers or angels could find their way in this maze…

She already knew all that.

But at 9:28, as she lazily turned another page, her breath got stuck in her chest. On the yellowed paper, was a painting of the Sky Room, and a title : The Exit. 

She got up, with the book in her hands, reading fast in the dark, walking circle in her room, her purple lace dress flying behind her like the wind had risen.

The Sky Room had been an exit all this time. She had taken Dean so close to the goal this time ! If only she had knew. The book said no demon could use it -that’s why they didn’t really care about the key before Alastair took it from her-, as it worked only for souls that didn’t belong here, or that weren’t perverted yet ? It wasn’t easy to say, because enochian wasn’t easy to understand precisely. 

Dean didn’t belong here, and he for sure wasn’t perverted. Her ? That would be a good way to find out…

With the proper spell, and the key, she could at least make sure he will escape.

She sighed. Two years, two years acting like the perfect little princess to win their trust, two years of hiding the consuming hate and smile, to have access to this kind of knowledge that was hidden from her before.

All her previous researches and tries had always lead nowhere, but that sky… It was her way out, in her excitement, she attracted the little flame of the candle that came gravitate round her like a satellite.

 Alastair had taken back the key, and there was only two choices : Either he had kept it or given it to Lilith. Her heart ached a little at the idea that she walked with the key in her Teddy bear for years.

But she would find it, even if it was the last thing she did, even if she had to burn Hell down.

She took time to memorize every details of the pages about the Sky Room by heart, in case one of them remembered this one was dangerous and took it back.

Then she calmly closed it and put it on her desk, she adjusted the many muslin layers of her long and heavy dress, and started to walk out of her room, with her tiny fire star still rotating around her.

The door was locked and warded, but it opened when she came near. Outside, a huge demon in his true hideous form was guarding her door. 

“You can’t go out” he grunted, drool falling at his feet.

She didn’t answer, but when he lifted his arm to stop her, the little satellite of fire grew instantly, and became a huge and threatening ring circling her, and the demon hissed and growled, watching her sink in the corridors like a raging comet, blood puddles boiling on her tracts.

Dean’s cell was quiet, she stopped before it for a second, at this time of the artificial day, she knew he would be in a bad shape. She took a breath and plunged her hand in the big ring of fire around her, and found the tiny candle flame, she put it out between her thumb and index and the ring died. Darkness falling on her again.

She pushed the door and her bare feet under the dress met blood. Dean was laying on his side in a pool of blood, even bigger than usual, but he seemed to be in one piece... His back was on her, his head limp on the cold floor.

“Dean” she said softly, like she always did, to not frighten him.

She walked to him and kneeled, soaking her majestic dress in blood, and gently took his head in her hand, to put it on her lap.

“Hey…” she said, stroking his hair, but only his eyes moved and his lips were trembling a little. “You’re cold.”

A soft light started irradiating from her and his pupils dilated, heat started filling the room.

“F-firef…” he tried to say, stealing the saddest smile from her.

“Dean” she whispered. “I found it. I found our way out. Do you remember the Sky Room ?”

She felt him tense and hushed him softly, pushing a sticky bloody strand out of his face.

“No Dean, I figured it out” she reassured him. “It’s a way out, that’s why they got that mad when they found out I had the key. There is a spell… I’m so sorry I didn’t know back then.”

He looked up at her, his green eyes highlighted by the red surrounding them, his breathing fastened a little and she gave him a teary smile.

“It will be over in a few days, Dean” she bent to talk close to his ear. “That’s it, we’re going out. I will find the key or burn the door, you will see Sammy soon. In three days, they all leave to Earth, I will take you there and it will be over. Can you hold on three more days ?”

He nodded weakly, and a big tear cleaned a line in the middle of the blood on his temple.

She was watching him, his lips white, his lashes on his cheek since she had closed his eyes to pretend he was sleeping.

The blood had almost disappeared from his face and body, but she was still bathing in it, her dress was two-colored and she was wearing long gloves of his blood. It had been a few hours and her legs were sore, but no place was better. 

He would wake up soon now. 

She smiled down at him, thinking of him running out of Hell under the stars, of his brother’s face when he would meet him again. Would Sam be old ? Time was weird here… He would walk the streets and bathe in sun, he would eat and dance. And maybe, just maybe, she could be by his side, chose a song in one of those jukebox and turn on herself when alcohol would make her dizzy… 

His grunt made the bubble of her dream pop.

“Dean” she smiled softly.

“Firefly” he hummed, grabbing her hand on his chest to give it a squeeze. 

He tried to move but she shook her head slightly.

“Give yourself a minute, Dean” she whispered, seeing him struggle.

He closed his eyes again, still holding her hand. 

She could see the colors fill his beautiful plumb soft lips again and wondered how it would feel to touch them. To touch them with her own… A kiss was a weird gesture, why put your lips on someone else’s ? Why not hand on hand ? Or nose on nose ?... Yet, she would have given her shitty life to know what it felt like to have his lips on hers. 

When she was a little girl, she had started to dream about Life thanks to him, about nature, seeing the ocean, tasting ice cream, wandering in a city, dancing under a storm… But lately, all she could dream of was experimenting this life with him. Seeing the ocean blue reflect in those green eyes, it would make the most perfect color, eating ice cream in a theater with him, walking the streets holding his hand, kissing him under a storm…

“Did I hear correctly ?” he asked, sitting up in a grunt of effort.

“Yes, I found the way out” she nodded, remembering it might not work for her, she felt like she didn’t belong here, but she was also half demon...

“So why do you look sad ?” he frowned.

“I just don’t want them to torture you more for three days” she lied.

She just couldn’t tell him that she might be stuck. If she did, he would hesitate, and she would rather have to be Lucifer’s toy, than know Dean was being tortured forever. 

“Three days…” he gave her the most  tender smile. “I am damned for eternity, and you’re telling me I could go out in three days. That’s... “

He didn’t finish his sentence, his eyes fell on an invisible point on her dress, he seemed different, even more beautiful, his irises bright, his featured softer, lighter… Hope.

Hope suited him so well that she felt her heart flutter. How handsome would he be in happiness ? A wide smile appeared on her face, catching his attention.

“What will be the first thing you will do ?” she spoke, searching his face. 

“I…” he frowned. “I think I will find Sammy and drink a beer.” 

She didn’t answer, just looking at him in awe, imagining meeting Sam herself, tasting beer.

“Do you know where the key is ?” he asked. 

“I have a few ideas, and I can open any locks lately, I got this.”

His lips turned into a smile, a thousand of expressions in his eyes and on the corner of his lips. 

Dean had this way of holding her without reaching out at all, with the warm kindness in the wrinkles at the corner of his eyes, with the moves of his mouth and the worried lines on his forehead. And right now, she was feeling his aura holding her. The learned coldness of her heart melt and the little girl she once was started crying in the pit of her soul.

“And you ?” he whispered. “What do you want to do more than anything ?”

Her eyes dived in the black of his pupils. What she wanted didn’t really depend on her freedom, and there was a big chance she would never be free anyway.

Pushed by an invisible force, or a new courage, she came closer to his face, her thumb coming up to graze the freckles on his cheeks, enjoying the sight of him clean of blood and terror. Very slowly, she bent a little on his face, her lips shyly met his cheek and she barely let them graze his soft skin.

He didn’t say a word, let her move on her knees to gently rub the side of her face on his. For a second, she could hear the nostalgic yet comforting music coming from the jukebox and feel his arms around her. She wondered if that pleasurable dizziness she felt was like the one caused by alcohol that Dean had described ; if it was, she sure understood why people drank all the time.

She felt like she was dancing, at least what she had imagined of dancing, without moving. And the air wasn’t sulfur and blood anymore, it smelled like what she thought a summer night would… She didn’t need more than Dean to feel all of that.

Her face turned slightly, her nose grazing his, and she hesitantly put her lips on the corner of his. She closed her eyes to enjoy the feeling of that feathery touch, imagining all that setting around, with humans and warm lights, music, whiskey, wood, windows and wind, and laughs…

But the scenery shattered when Dean cupped her face with two big confident hands -like no one had ever held her- turned her just enough to line his lips with hers, and put a kiss on her lips.

A real kiss.

His lips were pressed against hers and it felt like their bodies were connected. She started shaking a little, moved by the most intense pleasure she had ever felt and waves of emotions.

He moved an inch back, his lips making a little noise on hers when leaving. So that was the famous sound of a kiss... It tickled a little, but before she could open her eyes, his lips met hers again, this time parting just a little, like he wanted, needed, to capture her own for himself. She parted her lips just enough for him to be able to cage her upper lip between his. Then again, and her bottom lip.

Her arms fell limp on his lap, and shivers roamed her entire body. 

He bent his head slightly to the side and she gasped a little when she felt something wet graze her mouth. It was his tongue.

She parted her lips more, and when he opened his mouth to hungrily slipped his tongue between them to caress hers, something exploded inside her.

“Deeeaaan” the dreadful voice of Alastair threatened from the corridor with an amused tone, making him break the kiss the gasp in terror.

She wrapped her arms around him, tears immediately falling on her cheeks. 

She couldn’t fight the demon, or they would find something to punish her, and he couldn’t find her with Dean, or they would watch them more… All that mattered now was the plan.

To save him, she had to abandon him now. And it was like ripping her own heart…

“Three days” she whispered and got up.

When she felt his hand slightly clinging to her in panic, she let out a silent sob.

“Dean I swear to you, look at me. I swear.”  

She wiped her face and walked behind the door at the exact second the demon entered, a brush hook in his hand... 

“Hello Dean, I prepared surprises for you, I’m pretty sure today will be the day you accept my offer.”

“Fuck you” Dean muttered through tears, making the demon laugh.

And she left in silence in his back, crushed by the idea that she could stop him now, but that it would ruin the plan.

 Dean’s Pov

The chains made it hard to breathe, impossible even, and the pain was screaming in his ears, it was one of those days, when the demon didn’t finish Dean and he was so angry at his body for resisting like that.

Had he really kissed her ?

Snake embrace, Alastair said, and tightened the chains until they broke Dean’s ribs and his back. He just wish he could faint or die.

But tomorrow… Tomorrow his Firefly would take him away. So in his misery, through the panic of suffocation, Dean clung to the only thing he had : the little light in the middle of Hell, his hope, her.

Tomorrow.

Tomorrow.

Tomorrow…

Hope made the dam break and he choked on tears, quickly silenced by the chains magically tightening more. He was going to die finally and when he will exist again… It would be tomorrow.

The door opened and she entered. 

She was like a dream in the middle of a nightmare, nothing about her fitted here. Not her kind eyes, not her beauty, her innocence. And neither her wealthy look. Her long blue silky dress had a train that left a trail of the blood it wiped off the floor, the long tight sleeves were lace covered with occasional pearl…

She looked like a mirage. Her elegant silhouette entered the room, she had pomp dress and hair but her face still showed that artless expression, and for a second in his daze, he wondered how she would look in pajamas… 

Did they really kiss ?

“Dean… Damn !” She came close but he couldn’t see her anymore, his eyes closing, rolling in his skull.

He felt her hands tug desperately at the chains and her soft voice groaning. 

And suddenly, he could breathe. He gasped and coughed and the pain of his broken ribs hit him violently, but under them, nothing. He couldn’t feel his legs or his hips…

He blinked a few times and his eyes widened : the chains were gravitating around him like flying snakes, not touching any part of his body which rested in the air.

“Dean…” her voice came through.

The chains fell and she held him, when he slowly fell on the floor, like he was in water. 

“Tomorrow” she whispered.

And he wanted to tell her how beautiful she was, how incredible. He wanted to ask her what she thought of her first kiss. She could defeat them all, and all the evil in the world… But his injuries were bad and he could feel his heart weaken.

“I know where the key is” she murmured, bending on him, her warm lips grazing on his temple. 

“Y-you’re a miracle” he managed to state.

“I’m just a girl” she answered. “But you, Dean… You are everything. You are the sunshine and the starry nights, the music and the ocean. You are snow dancing in the air, and my fireplace, you are christmas and... “ he listened, his struggling heart growing even in his last beats. “You’re the moon in a summer night.” 

A tear fell on his jaw and her lips pressed to his temple more, her voice broke a little. 

“You are love” she almost whined.

He shakily found her hand, and grazed it with his last strength. He could feel what she was saying, her love was irradiating of her and he wondered how that kid could have grown that kind of feelings in here, and for such a wreck…

“I love you” she whispered. “I love you so much…”

His eyes stilled as his last thought, thanks to her, was a hope again : She will get out of here, and see real snow, and she will learn to love…

 Reader’s POV 

To see his ever so vibrant green turn cold and still, was a sight she would never get used to, no matter the fact she knew he was gonna come back. She carefully closed his eyes, and waited for him to open them again.

She held him for hours, felt how his body turned cold and stiff. She couldn’t imagine the feeling when death is permanent, because that was the only good thing in Hell, death wasn’t the end.

She had hoped to see his eyes open before she had to go back, but they didn’t. She took out her watch and she knew she had to go back to Crowley for her next lesson, she had to leave him again, or the plan would be ruined.

She placed her lips on his forehead and squeezed her eyes tightly as she felt his ice cold skin beneath them. 

“I’ll be back, I promise Dean, I won’t leave you. You’ll get to see Sammy again.” She carefully wrapped her arms around his back, her hand holding the back of his head. 

“I love you” she told him once more as she laid him carefully back down.

She would give everything not to have to leave now, but she couldn’t. But things would get better, tomorrow, he would feel the sun on his skin again.

Standing up, she looked back one last time from the doorframe, just to see if she could catch her favorite green one last time, but he was still inert. With a sigh she pulled the door closed behind her and went back to her room.

She stopped behind the corner of her room at the sound of Crowley’s voice.

“Why isn’t she in her room !” he snapped. 

She was late…

“I swear she was here a second ago, sir” the coward demon answered him, even she could hear he was lying.

“Find her now !” Crowley yelled, she could hear the nails of the demon scraping against the floor as it hurried off.

“You know just as much as me where she is, Crowley” Lilith sighed, surprising Y/n.  

She had the key.

“Why is she so interested in that Winchester, he’s no different from the rest. He’s messing her up” Crowley grunted.

They knew ! Since when ? She always had been careful about it, this was bad, but, her plan was still going, they didn’t know about that. They couldn’t.

“Maybe he is, but he also made her go after Alistair, without him she would never have grown so strong so fast” Lilith stated. “She’s becoming too strong and you know it, Crowley. Every one of my demons is scared of her, calling her the ‘Queen of fire’. I’m the Queen Crowley, she’s Lucifer’s WHORE !”

The walls trembled with her voice. 

“And yet, what can we do ? I lock her, I punish her…” Crowley snapped at her. 

“We’re running out of options here, we need Lucifer and we need him fast” the Queen said.

“I think we can deal with a child without our Lord” her father chuckled darkly. “Unless you too fear the Queen of Fire ?”

She heard a muffled thud followed by Crowley’s grunting. 

“You might not be able to hold her back” Lilith groaned. “But she is still a long way from taking me down. So watch your tone with me, you slug.”

Maybe it was the distance or the way Lilith’s voice bounced against the walls of the corridor, but Y/n wasn't mistaking, she could hear fear.

Lilith was afraid, afraid of her.

Y/n couldn’t help the grin that formed on her face. She would get the key, Dean would be free.

She hurried around the corner to the small library to grab some books, she turned back to go to her room.

With the books grasped in her arms she passed the door. Lilith turned to her as she let Crowley drop down from where she had him pinned against the wall.

“Y/n! Where have you been ?” Crowley gasped.

She held her chin high, and looked Lilith in the eyes. The years of being terrified of the Queen of Hell were over.

“In the library.” she said as she mentioned to the books in her hands.

“You stay in your room until I tell you you can leave, that’s the rule Y/n.” Crowley took the books from her to see what she was reading.

“More crossroads lore ?” he questioned. 

Y/n shrugged, crossing her arms.

“It’s interesting” she lied, hoping he would buy it. 

“Whatever, you will eat dinner with me tonight” he sighed.

She frowned, that rarely happens. The only times Crowley asked her to join him, it was to introduce her to yet another monster. 

“Why ?” she asked. 

“Because I say so” Lilith told her coldly. 

Lilith would eat with them ? Something was up, she could see it in the Queen’s horrible glare, and feel it in the shivers along her spine, but Y/n ignored it. Just a few hours from now, she would be out of here, or at least Dean would be. If anything, this gave her another opportunity to get the key.

“I look forward to it, your majesty” Y/n gave the mother of demons a sinister smile. 

___________________________

They all sat down at the big table which was covered in food; a big pig with an apple in its mouth, grapes, red wine, bread and a dozen cakes, about everything you could think of was on this table.

Which was a shame, demons didn’t need to eat. Only she ate but, still, she could survive without it for longer than a normal human, and could never eat more than a fragment of this ridiculous display.

“So Y/n you’re probably wondering what all this is about ?” Lilith said as she watched her for the corner of her eye.

Y/n took her fork in her hand, making sure to keep up her pinky finger up, she had gotten enough beatings for forgetting it.

“Yes, I can’t help but do” she said, her mind was reeling with a way to get the key from Lilith.

The demons she had threatened had told her Lilith had the key, getting it from her would not be easy...

But not impossible.

“Lucifer is coming and you need to be prepared... ready” Crowley piped up.

“Prepared ? For what ?” she knew she was meant to be his slave, his wife in her father’s mind, like it could happen… but she didn’t understand why they said she wasn’t ready, prepared how ?

“Well, first, you’re not ready to talk to him, not with that tone for instance” Lilith sneered. 

“Lucifer will need you, your powers to be more precise” Crowley told her.

“For what purpose does he need them ?” she frowned. “He is far more powerful than me, unless...” she looked at both of them “he is not ?” 

Lilith laughed out loud, an ominous and mocking laugh that made Y/n want to drag Lilith through the halls of Hell and cast her in the deepest pit she could find. 

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, girl, no one is stronger than Lucifer. He will use your powers as a weapon… Or your belly” she grinned sardonically.

“A weapon” she repeated, putting her fork in her plate. “What do you mean my belly ?” she  dared asking, the idea of the answer making her nauseous.

“To bring Hell upon the Earth” Lilith smiled.

No… not Earth ! That meant when she would get Dean out, it would all be for nothing ! Anger rose in her core, she could suddenly feel her ears burn with that rage she knew so well. When will they stop ? When will he be allowed to be happy ? Why soil everything ! She couldn’t let that happen. 

“No” she stated, trying to hold her fury hidden deep inside of her.

Crowley’s had snapped towards Y/n.

“No ? Darling, you don’t really have a say in it” he laughed.

“I control my powers. I won’t do it !” she said, trying to weight her words.

“And why not ? You never even saw Earth, what do you care for it” Lilith got up from her chair.

It was the home of the man she loved.

“There are innocent people there. I just… I won’t do it.”

Lilith stood next to her, her hand grasped the back of her head, her fingers tangled in Y/n’s hair, pushing her down to the table, her face now in her plate. Y/n gasped, the rage inside her once again drowned by humiliation, like it had been so often in her life.

“Like daddy said,” she bent down to whisper in Y/n’s ear. “You don’t have a say in it.”

A necklace slipped out of the demon’s dress and dangled in front of her face. 

The key ! 

Y/n was so close to grasp it… So close to freedom. Her heart started pounding in her chest and flashes of Dean in pieces came in her mind, making her more determined than she had ever been.

She started to vibrate underneath Lilith’s hand, she could almost taste her rage on her own tongue. Her body curled inwards, her breath slow and focused, her hair started to flow, she opened her eyes and could see herself light up in the reflection of the silver gravy boat that was placed on the table.

With a powerful blast of fire everything around her vaporized to dust as Crowley and Lilith flew pinned against the walls. 

“I WON’T DO IT” her voice was unrecognizable, it sounded like she was speaking with a thousand voices at the once. 

She was floating high in the middle of the room, she spread her arms and could feel two fiery wings erupt from her back, so big they touched each side of the room.

She would get out. She wouldn’t take any of their punches, any of their humiliations. And Dean wouldn’t spend another night in that cell. She was getting out. Now.

Her eyes focussed on the key around Lilith’s neck, with a nod of her head the chain snapped and the key flew into her hand like she was the magnet.

“YOU WON’T STOP ME” she clenched both her fist, the flames around her growing with the rage inside her as she forced the demons out of their vessels.

A force that wasn’t hers made the room colder. Her head snapped towards Lilith who seemed to be whispering something. 

“L-Lilith” Crowley yelled.

Y/n felt an invisible cord wrap around her feet, it tugged her down violently to the floor with one hard pull. Her wings disappeared, Lilith ran towards Y/n and threw a small vile in front of her, it caught fire and followed a line all around her.

She felt herself growing weaker and weaker, the more she fought the heavier everything got.

“Stop trying Y/n, you’re trapped, no way you can cross that.” Crowley said as he wiped the dirt of his dress pants.

“You really thought you were gonna get out ?” Lilith sneered at her, a wicked grin on her face.“Oh and you wanted to take the Winchester boy with you ?” she was now laughing out loud.

Y/n crawled to the edge of the fire ring around her, heavy and beaten, but met an invisible wall, icy and crackling, she couldn’t pass. She used all her strength, all her rage, but the anger was just a stomachache now, and her body was a prison. She was trapped. 

“Told you the spell would work.” Crowley told Lilith, with that fear hidden in his voice, the voice he had when he felt like he had to protect himself. He wouldn’t help her. 

Lilith leaned closer to her, victory on her face.

“I got you now, don’t ever think you are stronger than me. It’s over.” 

No… it couldn’t be, she had to get Dean out of here, she promised him… She swore. Dean was waiting for her, she couldn’t let him down…

Her ribs became too tight and a sob of supplication escaped her mouth. She lifted an arm, in a last attempt to resist, but despair was even heavier on her back, than the spell was.

“Bring her to my cage” Lilith said, opening the door to the demons on the other side, intrigued by the noise.

“No no, please no.” Y/n started, she knew by now that Lilith intended to lock her up for good this time. 

The thought of Dean waiting for her was unbearable… He would be waiting… forever. In a strangled sob, she clutched the key in her hand so hard it snapped. She looked down at her hand, it was broken…

“It’s a fake” Lilith clenched her fist and Y/n rose up, gasping for air. “You think I would walk around it with around my neck ? I’m not stupid.” 

Some demons grasped Y/n by her foot to tug down to the ground so  they could put new chains around her. She couldn’t move, crying like she had never cried, not even as a child. She wasn’t crying for herself, she wouldn’t mind dying. 

She was crying for Dean. Every single one of his cuts would be on her from now, every one of his lonely nights, of his fears and burns… For eternity. 

On her.

Once the chains were secured the demons started dragging her to her new ‘room’.

“Oh and” Lilith started, the demons stopping at the sound of her voice, she looked down at Y/n laying chained on the floor, silent tears rolling down her face.

“I’ll take care of Mr. Winchester.”

Next Chapter in @roonyxx​‘s blog

_________________________________

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[bugsandchatons]

when you weren’t mine to lose (5)

Summary: Change is a scary thing, especially when it feels like nothing has stayed the same.

It’s been a year since Marinette became the Guardian of the Miracle Box - a year of struggling beneath a burden she never asked for, a weight that has her leaning on her partner more and more as the hours fly by, of letting him come to her, too, when he needs a soft place to land. A year of falling for the boy who takes on the world by her side with a smile made of sunlight, and fighting the growing urge to tell him what he means to her.

After all, they’ll have time enough for that when Paris is safe.

But when the unthinkable happens, Marinette learns the tragedy of loving someone quietly, and the lines she’ll cross to save him.

[[AO3]] {from the beginning}

*****

[five: where the light goes]

Tikki had tried to warn her, to the best of the kwami’s knowledge, what it might be like when the Akuma took over. The nature of the Butterfly Miraculous was to influence, she’d said, not total control - when used negatively it was strong in its coercion, but not irresistible. 

Still, Marinette’s not sure if she could have fully prepared herself for the heavy fog that rolls in over her mind, blurring everything but the violet splash of the butterfly sigil in front of her eyes. 

Hold on to your purpose. Go back, change the timeline, save Chat Noir.

Over and over, until the words stuck.

“Ladybug,” the smooth voice that washes over her is a horribly familiar one, now. “I must admit, I’d begun to wonder if this day would ever come.”

She clenched her fingers into fists. Hold on. Go back. Save him.

“Your partner has died,” Hawkmoth says. The cold flash of agony that ripples through her is muted, pushed back and away somewhere in the distance. “So our purposes have aligned for the time being. We’ve both lost someone who, together, we can restore. Bring me both the Ladybug and Black Cat Miraculous and we can fix it. You need me to put everything back as it should be.”

Ladybug takes a deep breath in. His request is a siren song; the need to comply is just as strong as the tidal wave of her own anger, her own misery. She buries them together and, little by little, the fog recedes. 

Go back. Save him. 

Despite how it might feel otherwise, he only had as much power over her as she allowed him. She’s Ladybug, and even broken, she would not bend to any will other than her own. “You’re right about that,” her voice sounds far away to even her own ears, “but your plan won’t work. Chat’s Miraculous is broken.”

For a moment, he’s quiet. She can feel it when his disbelief gives way to fury in a steady, rising throb behind her eyes. “I can fix it, but not within the limits of my own Miraculous.” She lets this hang in the air, but still, Hawkmoth says nothing. Ladybug continues, “But I’ve seen what you did for Queen Bee. When she was akumatized, nothing stopped her from using her powers as widely and often as she wished. With the enhancement of your Akuma, I could fix everything.”

“Very well,” Hawkmoth concedes, his voice ringing with displeasure. She feels the leaping need to appease him, but she can control it - she has him. He’s listening to her now. “The Miraculous you wear grants you the power of creation, but even our powers have their restrictions. Without limits, you are unstoppable. Fix what has been destroyed, and then you will bring the Miraculous to me.” She feels his smile and the smugness that radiates from it. “You and I aren’t so different after all, are we?”

The fog threatens, shifting closer and looming at the edge of her vision. The pain behind her eyes blossoms until she’s nearly seeing stars.

Through it all, she can feel Hawkmoth’s glee. He believes he’s already won. Even now, that’s what matters most to him - bringing back the boy he’s convinced is his son is secondary to besting Ladybug. It makes her sick.

Go back. Save him. The thought calls Chat to mind, sharp and clear despite the press of shadows; all bright green eyes and beatific smiles. It’s the best thing to take with her, Ladybug thinks, as she finally falls.

She closes her eyes and gives herself over to the touch of his dark magic until she’s immersed in an icy cold that steals her breath. For a moment, she struggles - submerged, trapped beneath the surface - before she uncurls her fingers, one by one, and lets go.

It ends almost as quickly as it came over her, and then she’s not quite Ladybug any more.

“Hmm. What shall we call you, then?”

She presses a hand over her own racing heart and rises to her feet. The name comes to her at once and she takes it, branding herself before he can do it for her. “Ouroboros.”

“Ahh, creation and destruction, life and death. An interesting choice. Now,” he commands, “fix his Miraculous.”

There it is again - the overwhelming tug to give in. She’s not sure if she could fix Chat’s Miraculous, even now. It’s tempting to try.

“I’m afraid that’s not what I’ve got planned.” The pounding behind her eyes intensifies, and she grits her teeth against the split of pain. “We are not the same, Hawkmoth. I won’t sacrifice a life to save another. I will find a way to save him, though.” 

She had what she wanted, now; a do-over, a second chance.

Reset the clock. Go back. Save Chat Noir.

She clasps her forearms - one hand finds the Snake Miraculous on her left wrist, the other curls protectively over Chat’s ruined ring, tied to her right.

Creation and destruction, she thinks. Together, always.

The end of everything, or the beginning of it.

She closes her eyes and thinks of where the light goes when the night inevitably comes to claim it, and of the sun’s sure return to chase the dark away, An indomitable circle, infinite in its ability to rise again and again. With that in mind, her pain ebbs away to nothing.

*****

The next time Ouroboros opens her eyes, it’s a new day - or, perhaps more accurately, an old one. She gasps, drawing in shallows breaths of cold morning air once, twice, before exhaling and rubbing her palms over her temples. The heavy fog in her mind is gone, as is the agonizing pressure of Hawkmoth’s power struggle.

“When you jump back in time, Hawkmoth should no longer have a hold over you,” Tikki had told her. Like Timetagger, Ouroboros remembers. He’d left the man holding his leash behind, and so had she.

So far, so good.

She looks first down at herself, then at the statue of Ladybug and Chat Noir, lit to sparkling as the dawn breaks. In the shining bronze, she can see what has become of herself. 

Her suit changed. Where there’d always been red and black spots were now soot-black scales, as though she’d been doused in fire and risen from embers. A violent splash of color streaks down a single line from chest to belly, scarlet like a red-bellied snake - a clear warning that this new species was venomous. The mask over her eyes looks as if it's been painted to her nose and cheekbones in charcoal.

In ashes.

She turns away and glances dispassionately down at her gloved hands. She’d need a disguise if she wanted to traverse the city.

As if in answer to the very thought, a dark hooded coat materializes in her waiting palms. Ouroboros supposes she has the limitless powers of creation to thank for it. She pulls it on over her head and lifts the hood to cover her hair. Her reflection in the statue shows her that, while not quite incognito, she could now make her way across Paris without immediately causing a panic.

The urge to seek Chat out and tuck him away somewhere safe is an overpowering one. To just see him, even, would be enough.

She has hours before the battle. She knows what she should do: find a place to hide, at least until school lets out, then place herself near enough to Trocadéro to watch for Mirror Image’s akumatization. Tikki had warned her not to be seen until she had to be - that any changes to the course of the day before the Akuma battle could affect her ability to change what she had to when the time came. She knows when and where Ladybug will be throughout the day to avoid her, but Chat -

Ouroboros pauses, her breath hitching in her chest. She knows where Chat Noir is right now.

Everything else vanishes. With only that in mind, she runs across the park, scales the building across from the bakery, and perches - just one shadow among many on the rooftops.

She doesn’t have to wait long. There, backlit by the rising sun as he climbs out of her skylight, is Chat. 

The sight of him, whole and vital and breathing, feels like a punch to the stomach for all that it fills the cavernous empty space inside of her.

God, there he is.

Her knees hit the rooftop and a sound somewhere between a sob and a gasp shakes out of her chest. Relief, unfettered, sends cold chills down her spine until she trembles with it. It wasn’t until she saw him again that she realized just how terrified she’d been that none of this would work.

A shadow falls across her. She looks up and all she can see is green before she ducks her head back down, wishing she could drown in him instead.

“Hey, are you okay?” Chat Noir offers her a hand, his brow furrowed. His frown only deepens when she places a shaking gloved hand in his. “How did you get up here, anyway?”

Something inside her crumbles. She wants nothing more than to throw her arms around him, to press her cheek to his chest until she can feel his heartbeat, until it’s all she can hear. He reaches out towards her face and pauses, his hand freezing in midair when suspicion wars with the concern in his expression.

When he doesn’t touch her, she raises her own hand and finds tears on her cheeks. When had she started crying?

His gaze is sharp, but his voice is still gentle when he asks, “Do you need help? Have you been akumatized?”

“I-” her voice fails her. She swallows and tries again. “You’re in no danger from me.”

Chat watches her warily, rocking back on his heels. He’s probably never seen an Akuma that didn’t attack first and ask questions later, but even his troubled look is so far and away better than his empty one. The life in his eyes is a balm to an open wound and the love that strains to burst out of her is enough to keep tears flowing.

“Come with me,” he offers her his hand again - his left, the one without his Miraculous - and she’s so proud of him, for his boundless kindness even in the face of caution, for the bravery that pours from him so effortlessly. “We’ll find Ladybug and she can fix everything.”

The sob that bursts out of her this time is broken and raw. To have to hurt him while he heals her is a cruel twist of fate. “Kitty-” 

He tilts his head and she sees it when his guarded confusion gives way to horrible, wretched understanding. His mouth falls open, then he snaps it shut and whispers, “Ladybug?”

Ouroboros bites down on her lower lip. She should never have approached him. She can do nothing to help him now, and if the absolute devastation on his face is anything to go off of, she’s more likely to get him akumatized than anything else. “It - it’ll be okay, Chat.”

“You - you’re not Ladybug,” he says slowly, his voice thick. “She can’t - she would never allow herself to be akumatized.”

If only he knew. That was the funny thing, wasn’t it? She didn’t deserve his unwavering faith. He held her up so high without realizing that she was as fallible as any other person, and all it took for her to tumble down was for him to be ripped away from her. When it all came down, Ladybug was not unbreakable. 

“Never say never,” she murmurs.

His throat bobs as he struggles for words. She reaches out for him, only to think better of it a moment too late - his eyes snap to her arm and widen even further, and she realizes at once what he’s seen.

Nestled above the ruined Black Cat Miraculous on her wrist is the lucky charm that Adrien had made for her birthday. Ouroboros watches his shocked expression give way to a fragile sort of uncertainty right before his gaze flicks back to the building he’s just left.

Her heart breaks for the second time. She knows now, and so does he. He might not understand, but he knows.

There’s no way this moment doesn’t change everything, in any given timeline.

“Hey, kitty,” Ouroboros steps closer, pitching her voice low to soothe, “I shouldn’t have come here, but it’s going to be okay. I’m...I’m gonna fix it like you said, okay?” 

Chat stares at her for a long time, his gaze raking over dark earrings, blue eyes, freckles, and black hair. He searches for an answer she can’t yet give him until the silence is all but unbearable. “I...I know you will, my lady. You always do.” 

Her heart turns over. Even when thrown face to face with the unbelievable, he still chooses to place his belief in her. She won’t let him down again.

He glances at her, then away, as if something about her hurts to look at. “Do you need me?”

She puts a hand to his cheek and something in his expression twists as he turns his face into her touch, his lips brushing her covered wrist. “Always, Chaton. I’m afraid I have to do this part on my own, but I’ll see you soon though. That’s a promise,” she whispers, before glancing past him, scanning the sky for any sign of a butterfly.

There’s not one to be seen, but she’s not surprised. With a teary smile, she meets Chat’s gaze once more before reaching for the Snake Miraculous.

As many times as it takes. Even if it's twenty-five thousand, nine hundred and thirteen times, she’ll save him. At least as long as he fought to save her, or until her breaths stop coming and her heart ceases to beat.

[transitsastrology]

Astrology and the Renaissance

For the sake of simplicity, it would certainly be alluring to claim that this paper on astrology in the Renaissance starts with Petrarch (1304-1374) as well as ends with Shakespeare (1564-1616). Petrarch, "the initial man of the Renaissance," was no follower of astrology and railed against its pessimistic leanings. "Leave totally free the courses of reality as well as life ... these worlds of fire can not be guides for us ... Lit up by these rays, we have no demand of these duping astrologists and also existing prophets who empty the funds of their credulous followers of gold, who deafen their ears with nonsense, corrupt judgment with their errors, as well as disrupt our present life as well as make individuals sad with false fears of the future." By comparison, Shakespeare's work some 250 years later provided the globe the term "star-crossed fans" as well as would have the murder of 2 young princes at the hands of a wicked king credited to a poor resistance element. This proof in literature suggests an extreme turn-around in public opinion of astrology, yet what triggered this?

It is essential to keep in mind from the beginning that the adjustments generated in the Renaissance had a myriad of indications. As Richard Tarnas points out in The Interest of the Western Mind, "the sensation of the Renaissance lay as much in the sheer diversity of its expressions as in their extraordinary quality." The Renaissance did not just share itself through literary works alone (or at the same time or location for that issue) yet with art, faith, the expanding of scientia as well as the discovery of new lands in the world as likewise a brand-new point of view on the heavens. As a result, it will be asserted, it is particularly crucial that discourse on the discovering environment before the Renaissance is examined in order to develop a factor of comparison.

When assessing the Renaissance and its delight in art, music and literary works-- and also astrology-- it is very important to bear in mind that the amazing changes of this period happened versus the backdrop of the afflict, battle, spiritual rivalry, financial anxiety, the Inquisition as well as ecclesiastical conspiracies. Over this broad area, in this fascinating duration of history, an effort will be made to identify the restored rate of interest in and advancement of astrology throughout the Renaissance.

The Double Stars: A Change from Aristotle to Plato

The discovery and also translation of ancient messages has been a provocateur of significant changes in history, especially the jobs of Plato as well as Aristotle. In his publication, The Sleepwalkers, Arthur Koestler talked about the influence as well as popularity of these Greek thinkers. "Inasmuch as their impact on the future is concerned," Koestler composed, "Plato and Aristotle need to instead be called twin celebrities with a single centre of gravity, which circle round each other as well as alternating in casting their light on the generations that prosper them." Each would certainly have his look to delight in being "in fashion" whilst the other went out of style. According to Koestler, Plato would reign supreme until the 12th century, then Aristotle's work would be re-discovered and also after two centuries, when the world's thinkers tired of Aristotle's rhetoric, Plato would re-emerge in a different semblance. In the period approximately the development of the Renaissance, it was Aristotle's star that shone and also though it may be challenging to believe given modern Christianity's absence of approval for astrology, it was a scholastic theologian who united Aristotle, Church doctrine and astrology.

Thomas Aquinas (1225-1274) appeared to have been at the right location at the right time with the ideal points to claim. Arab scholarship and also the eventual translation of Aristotle's infiltrate Middle ages Latin indicated a resurgence for Aristotelian thought throughout Aquinas' life time. These works of Aristotle became a crucial task for this Dominican monk, a student of Albert Magnus (1206-1280), himself an Aristotelian translator. Tarnas mentioned that "Aquinas transformed Aristotle to Christianity and also baptised him." The increase of Aristotelian thought throughout Middle ages times profited astrology because of its view that "whatever that occurs in the sub-lunary globe is caused as well as governed by the activities of the incredible spheres." Brahe's discoveries revoked the concept of a separate and also unique "sub-lunary globe." 

Aquinas was positive as well as clear regarding the impacts of the celebrities as they were regarded currently: "The majority of men ... are governed by their enthusiasms, which depend on physical hungers; in these the influence of the stars is plainly really felt. Few indeed are the wise who are capable of resisting their pet instincts." To put it simply, there was a direct correlation between what happened in heaven as well as what occurred on earth. Aquinas included the crucial and memorable words:

" Astrologers, as a result, have the ability to foretell the truth in the majority of cases, specifically when they undertake basic predictions. In particular predictions, they do not obtain certainty, for nothing prevents a guy from resisting the dictates of his reduced faculties. Wherefore the astrologists themselves are wont to claim that 'the wise man regulations the stars' forasmuch, namely, as he rules his own interests."

Thus he avoids the quandry that would certainly bother the humanists ahead in the next century: the idea of free will.

As the Renaissance dawned, there can be little question that astrology had reappeared in spite of being buffooned nearly at the same time in 3 extremely various cultures. In addition to Petrarch's comments, the Muslim scholar Ibn Khaldun (1332-1406) condemned astrology as "all guesswork and also conjectures based upon the (assumed existence of) celestial influence and a resulting conditioning of the air." The Frenchman Nicholas Oresme, in 1370, wrote "Several princes as well as moguls, relocated by upsetting curiosity, effort with vain arts to seek out concealed points as well as to explore the future." For these guys (including Petrarch), astrology put the overwhelming lure before male to discover his future. Having actually developed astrology's presence before the Renaissance, the question of exactly how it expanded in appeal regardless of being so comfortably condemned remains.

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[miasmapuddle]

Libra full moon ushers in lessons from the zeta star race

The sun ☉ at 18 aries ♈︎ is conjoined with zeta reticulum epsilon, a star in, you guessed it, the zeta reticulum constellation.

The zeta star race is said to be an alternate timeline future version of humanity and their story is very resonant for our times. Almost too much so.

The zetas began to advance in technology at a high rate, and made the decision to leave the emotional and spiritual aspect of the world on the wayside, opting instead for a rational and materialist perspective. Well, down the evolutionary road they had chosen, due to embracing transhumanism, fusing their own flesh with hard tech, they lost all emotional capability, and their connection to source and their intuitive selves were totally severed. Around the same time, they were plunged into a massive civil war that led to nuclear warfare and the destruction of their viable planets. So the zeta people, who looked a lot like we do at this point in the story, retreated deep underground.

While underground, their skin became extremely pale, and their pupils expanded over their entire eye in order for them to be able to distinguish shapes in the relentless darkness of their planet's interior. Due to their dependence on intellect and restricted movement their heads ballooned and their bodies grew small and slim.

This created the classic ET physique most commonly recognized in what we call Greys, but are better known as Zetas.

The zetas soon realized they had made a mistake. by relying so heavily on technology, their connection to the natural world grew strained to the point that they lost the ability to reproduce. Desperate to continue their race, they began to use some of their technology to try and shift to an alternate timeline in which they had not made their fateful choice.

Long story short, they could not, and instead began looking for a race whose DNA they could harvest. This is how they found earth, back in the 1970s, around the start of abductions.

Zetas began abducting humans in order to obtain our DNA, which holds within it a vast range of emotion and potential for deep feeling and intuition, the exact qualities the Zetas once had. Their experiments were successful, and they began to create hybrid children who had the zeta intellectual capacity paired with the emotional depth of earth humanity. But the DNA they had harvested came from humans who were terrified, and this traumatic distortion was mirrored in the emotional state of the hybrid children. They were not happy, and were full of fear. The zeta realized that because of the interconnectedness of our reality, in order to heal their children, they had to heal their now broken relationship with humanity.

So the zeta began to work on a more spiritual path, and while they were not able to regain their lost capabilities right away, after generations of hybridization with other races, namely humans, a new kind of Zeta being emerged, one whose intellect renders them non judgemental and capable of clear seeing.

With zeta conjunct the sun, opposing the full moon in libra, we are receiving evidence of these lessons now in the form of deep divisive polarity, urging us to choose a side and stand with it absolutely. This is not the answer, and will only lead to further polarity. Tapping into the zeta energy can help us to see things objectively and to feel a deep compassion for our fellow human, understanding that pain and fear only breed more pain and fear, and likewise, healing only breeds more healing.

As an effort to aid humanity, the Zeta race has seeded many souls on earth, also hoping that the subtle encryption of their dark history will unconsciously aid us in making different decisions while we still can.

Zeta starseeds are very otherworldly, often appearing aloof or hypersensitive, and have a strongly eccentric space cadet vibe, a bit removed from everything around them. Zeta starseeds are equipped with brilliant minds, especially when it comes to rational thought and sciences, and they bring this mathematical flair to their spiritual ventures as well, looking at things from a uniquely dualistic yet united perspective.

At this time, the zetas are one of the most prominent races working with earth, especially the zeta-human hybrid, known as the essassani. ( for example, prominent channeled entity bashar is an essassani being)

Unfortunately many still see the zetas, commonly called the greys, as a negative race. And yes, negative factions still exist, many of which live on the orion empire controlled system of planets known as the unholy six, or in the orion star system itself. But this race as a whole has largely taken a miraculous turn for the best.

The zeta, using the holofractal nature of our universe to heal and transmute across the timelines.

Zeta message -

" in upcoming months, humanity will stand at a crossroads. You will be in a position much like one where we once were. you will be under the impression that you do not have a choice in which road you will walk. You will feel that the pull of the many is too vast and that you, the singular, are best off letting yourself be swept along in the flow rather than resisting the tides and risking a storm. This is your choice, but we urge you to take your unique personal perspective and autonomy as a gift at this time. We zeta, would like to add since this was not mentioned in the article, that we are a hive mind, and that when we moved into this state, we lived in division, in a deluded type of unity, until we collectively chose to move into what you call the light. Humans are walking the path of collective awakening at this time and will presently move into a type of consciousness more alike our own. But this connection of the hive, the collective mind, will first be a struggle. Your feelings, your thoughts, your experiences, will all be heightened. Know that this potent period is not permanent, it is a destabilizing influence, but one that is a natural consequence of deep change within your dimension. Allowing this new influx of awareness to breed anxiety and the desire to control, to force, to separate from, will only lead you to a darker horizon. The definitions of your world, mundane and metaphysical, are about to be flipped, shifted into a new paradigm. Allow it to occur and do not attempt to grasp to any one truth or absolute understanding in this time, no matter how wrong or right something seems to your new mind. Focus on cultivating your ability to move with and within this collective awareness, instead of resisting it. We are all in a dynamic timeline, and are all hoping for the best, and though we may appear to be some type of authority, we are, in many ways, as powerless to the ebb and flow of Great Nature as you. To call upon us, simply state a simple invocation, saying that you would like to connect to us, the Zetas. While you may not receive immediate impressions of our presence, you will have initiated a channel of interplay through which we can begin to connect. Thank you.

I'd like to note that the crossroads the Zetas are talking about is almost certainly the fusion of humanity and technology. 5g is just the first step in a forced transhumanism that will descend over society. This is the wave that will be so hard to push back against. They will say it is the wave of the future, astrologers may claim that it is the dawn of the age of aquarius after all, a sign associated with humanity itself, as well as technology. But this approaching singularity is not something to take lightly. Infusing our natural beings with such a high degree of electromagnetic influence will create changes in the quantum field and will reduce the number of probabilistic futures that we hold in our palm as natural humans. Once technology comes into the picture, our consciousness will become more fixed.

Writing this has been bringing up an extreme path of synchronous happenings, and I hope reading this will do the same for all of you.

[vmheadquarters]

Welcome to… 

We're going to play a game of written hot potato! Dozens of your favorite authors will take turns telling this story. Each writer will craft a chapter (with no prior planning) and then "toss" the story to the next person to continue the tale. No one knows what will happen, so expect the unexpected! Follow the “vmhq presents” and “murder we wrote” tags for all the installments, or read the story as it develops on AO3. — Chapter One of MURDER, WE WROTE is written by @susanmichelin​ (a/k/a CMackenzie). 

And stay tuned next week for Ch.2 from @nearfantastica​ - tag, you’re it! -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

CHAPTER ONE by CMackenzie

“Welcome aboard!” The captain of the luxury trawler, ominously named Irish Wake, greeted them on the dock with individual thermoses of hot cocoa, and dire predictions about the weather. “There’s a snow squall coming so we best be on our way– you’re my last two passengers for the night.”

Veronica managed to contain her eye roll- barely. This was going to be a very long weekend if all she had to look forward to were predictable ‘it was a dark and stormy night’ cliches. How Wallace had convinced her to make this trip North was still unclear. “Why are we doing this again?”

“Because I’m tired of watching you mope.” Wallace, following the captain’s orders, headed below deck to the saloon. It was paneled in teak and outfitted with leather banquettes and an actual, working fireplace. Wallace dropped onto the bench, leaving the seat closest to the fire for Veronica, and tugged off his gloves.

“I’ve only been home for THREE days,” Veronica said, reluctantly joining him on the sofa. She loosened her jacket and stared morosely through the windows at the gray water.

“Exactly. Three days of unwashed you walking around in a robe, wearing a sad face, and acting more pathetic than Charlie Brown’s Christmas tree. I will not spend the rest of winter break listening to you sing Unbreak My Heart.”

“As if.” She leveled Wallace with a hard look. “And for the record, my heart’s NOT broken.”

“Sure, V.” Unfazed, he pulled out the multi-page invitation for this party and started reading. “The island has its own pond for ice skating, and there are--”

“Hello? Grew up in Southern California, I don’t skate.”

“You don’t surf either, so what’s your point?” He waved the expensive vellum invite at her. “They have snowmobiles, a heated pool, an extensive library, a wine cellar--”

“What no conservatory and billiard room?”

“Plus,” he continued, undeterred. “There’s a murder mystery for you to solve. You can show off your detective prowess, while I play your devastatingly handsome side--”

“Devastatingly handsome?”

“The Watson to your Holmes.”

“This is more Christie than Doyle-- And Then There Were None ring any bells? Do you even know who owns this mansion?” Her best friend was being VERY cagey about this entire weekend. “And why were we invited?”

“WE weren’t invited, I was, and you’re my plus-one.”

“So why were YOU invited? Since when do you have rich friends who can throw Gatsby-like part—” Veronica’s eyes widened as realization dawned. “NO, absolutely not, I’m not going to be trapped on an island with HIM.”

“Totally over him, my ass,” Wallace muttered, shaking his head. “You know Logan Echolls isn’t the only rich guy in the world, right?”

Veronica humphed. She could count on one hand—on one FINGER—the amount of wealthy people Wallace knew well enough he’d consider traveling to this desolate place, and risk incurring Veronica’s wrath. 

There was NO WAY she was staying. She rebuttoned her jacket, and folded her arms across her chest. As soon as they docked, she’d make the captain return her to the mainland. If Logan…  Veronica frowned. “Let me see that invitation.”

“I thought you weren’t interested?”

“I’m not.” But her curiosity was getting the better of her. There was just no way Logan Echolls would throw a lame THEME party. 

She held out her hand, and Wallace hesitated, staring at the card like he was trying to come up with a good reason to say no; but when none materialized, he relented, and passed it to her. 

This time Veronica didn’t hold back the eye roll. The first line read: ‘Mistress X’ (Seriously? What is she, a porn star?) ‘cordially invites you to a mysterious good time.’ As far as Veronica could tell, the only ‘mystery’ was the identity of their hostess (and why she loved stale cliches). And maybe-- “Who else will be there?”

Wallace shrugged. “It’s a party, Veronica. Did you forget how those work? We eat, drink, and have fun- the only mystery for you to solve is a fake one.”

Sorry, BFF, but you’re wrong-- there was NO mystery solving in her future, fake or otherwise. Even if her curiosity was demanding to be satisfied, she would NOT be staying on this island, which is exactly what she told the captain after he docked the boat, and she scrambled topside.

“We need to go back to the mainland.”

The man continued to wind the dock line around a cleat in a tight, figure-eight pattern, ignoring her demand. Or maybe he just didn’t hear it? Frigid January air howled around them and buffeted the sides of the boat, making it thump against the wood pilings. Veronica tried again, a little louder. “You have to take me back to shore.”

“Sorry miss, no can do,” he said, shaking his head. “They’ve upgraded the storm to include white-out conditions and at least a foot of heavy snow.” He stopped adjusting the boat fenders long enough to squint uphill at the imposing limestone mansion. “I just hope you kids will be safe up there all alone.”

Veronica followed his gaze. Copper-trimmed windows glowed from inside, and several chimneys dotted the black slate roof, all of them puffing billows of gray smoke into the night sky. It was both inviting and foreboding. She shook off the ridiculous thought, stomping the cold from her feet and shoving gloved hands into her parka. “Aren’t you returning to Rollins?”

“‘fraid not; I’m gonna have to hunker down in the caretaker’s cottage till the storm passes. ”  The captain glanced at Wallace who was still standing on the boat, luggage at his feet. “Let me help you with those bags, son.”

“We good, V?”

“It’s not like I have a choice.” Too bad she hadn’t paid more attention to Duncan when he’d tried to teach her how to sail, then she could take the—skiff? Scow? Sloop?—berthed next to Irish Wake, and make her own way home. “Let’s just get this over with.”

Without waiting, she left him to carry both duffels, and marched toward the house. Wallace stopped her at the front door. “Uh, Veronica, before we go in, you should know there’s a story to follow.”

“Say what now? A story?”

“Yeah, for the mystery. It’s called Murder at the High School Reunion.” He dropped the bags, and withdrew a blood-red envelope from his coat pocket. “You’re supposed to be Enid Curtis,” he added, handing her the sealed letter.

Veronica groaned. As if this wasn’t bad enough, now she had to be called Enid AND attend a pretend reunion. She ripped open the character summary. 

Enid Curtis was the high school outcast. She couldn’t wait for senior year to be over so she could escape her hometown. Immediately after graduating, she fled to New York and became a successful lawyer, but she never got over her one true love, Mason. Enid is attending this weekend in the hopes of rekindling their relationship, but a dark secret—

“You are so going to owe me for doing this,” Veronica said, skimming the rest of the contents to confirm she wasn’t the killer. “I’m thinking YOU will be the one driving to Stanford every single weekend from now until the time I graduate.” 

“Haven’t I been doing that?” 

“Yes, but now you’ll do it without complaint.” She shoved the red card into her messenger bag. Depending on how many guests and bedrooms, she could have this solved in under an hour. All she needed was to search everyone’s things to read their dossiers. “So which high-school stereotype are you? Wait, let me guess-- class president? Teacher’s pet? No, no, I’ve got it, you’re the new transfer student!”

“You disappoint me,” Wallace said with a sad head shake. “Obviously, I’m the lovable jock- Brady Huddle.”

“Bad puns too? Could this weekend get any worse?” She entered the house and got her answer-- yes, it could. In fact, the party completely bypassed ‘worse’ and went straight to intolerable as she crossed the threshold into the living room. Dick Casablancas was behind the bar (natch), pouring a liberal amount of vodka in a collins glass. A probably-tipsy Gia, who was draped over Luke Haldeman, giggled at Dick, and Veronica’s eye twitched. Hell. I’m in hell.

She scanned the rest of the room, searching faces. Very familiar faces. 

Cole was lounging on a leather Chesterfield the color of old parchment, his arms spread across its back like he was trying to redeem the lost souls of Rio, and blathering on about the Ivy Club at Princeton. Listening to him with rapt attention was Kimmy, who looked eerily like a dead Meg. Obviously she was still going to Fantastic Sam’s with Meg’s picture (and maybe even a trip, or ten, to Dr. Griffith’s office).

Floor-to-ceiling windows lined the far wall and in front of them stood Carrie Bishop, sipping a white frothy confection from a punch cup.  Her bored expression was reflected in the darkened panes as she absently nodded at Susan Knight.

“Who’s the girl about to be swallowed by the fireplace?” The carved-limestone monster was massive. Its mantle towered over the unknown brunette’s head and the firebox was tall enough for a man to stand inside.  

“That’s Alexis Link,” Wallace said, wearing the same moony expression from senior year when he pined after the perky cheerleader.  His sudden interest in this party now made sense. 

“Don’t even think about leav—” The warning was too late. Wallace was already on the move. She sighed. If the weather wasn’t clear by tomorrow morning, she was going to need a new escape plan.  

Someone playfully bumped her elbow, and a frisson of excitement shot down her spine. Please let it be, Logan. Her eyes flew to the window to see the person behind her, and she had to fight to control her disappointment when she identified Casey Gant.

“Welcome to Whispering Rock, Veronica.” He jutted his chin toward the non-existent view. “It’s not much to look at right now, but during the day it’s pretty impressive-- a pond, trees, mountains.”

“Is this your house?”

“God no, it’s way too rural for my parents. I think my mother might literally die if she was this far away from civilization… and a Starbucks.” He smiled. “I got here early and went skating with Susan.”

Veronica nodded, then schooled her features into a mask of disinterest. “So is this everybody?”

“You and…”—not remembering Wallace’s name, he skipped right over it—“...were the last to arrive.”

“Oh.” Any interest she may have had completely evaporated. What was the point without Logan? Could she swim back to shore? Throw herself into the freezing water and hope for the sweet escape of death by exposure? “Guess I’ll go find my room.”

“Do you want me to get one of the maids to bring your stuff up?” Casey glanced at the lone duffel at her feet. “Or did the butler already take your bags?”

“Veronica travels light.”

Logan. She whirled around to face him. It had been over seven months since she’d seen him last (seven months, nine days, and five hours, give or take) and she deserved a little ogling time. She drank in the visual. His hair was shorter, his shoulders a little broader, and his arms… woof. 

Her head tilted. “Hey.”

His smile was slow. “Hey.”

Her fingers itched to touch him. To reassure herself he was actually here. Missing him these past months at Stanford had been a physical thing. Before she did something foolish, she tore her eyes away, and leaned down to grab her bag. Straightening, she blurted, “Are you Mason?”

“Echolls. Logan Echolls.” He pulled a mock-sad face. “Have you forgotten me already?”

As if. She was never going to forget him. Or get over him. Or move past him. She knew this. Even if she’d never tell him. “I meant your character.”

“Shouldn’t you know? I mean I am your great love.” 

“True love.” She frowned. “And Mason is Enid’s true love.”

“Tomato, to-mah-to.... But I am surprised you had to ask. Haven’t you already searched everyone’s rooms, or were you going to do that next?”

She flushed at how quickly he’d guessed her strategy. Was there such a thing as knowing someone too well? “Says the original snoop.”

“Takes one to know one.” His hand closed over hers and he took hold of her bag. “I’ll show you to your room-- it’s right next to mine-- and I can tell you about the other players.”

Logan took a step toward the stairs and the lights went out. A scream pierced the sudden silence. Veronica identified the direction of the ear-splitting sound (near the windows) and her head swiveled in that direction. It was too dark to identify the person (her guess was Susan), but the cause of her fright was plain to see. 

With the darkness inside the house equal to the night sky, the view through the windows had changed. Moonlight and a battery-powered lantern illuminated the pond. A body lay in the center of the ice, still and unmoving.  

“The game is afoot,” Logan whispered near her ear.

“Who’s the dead dude?” Dick asked, as he passed in front of the dim-glow of the dying fire to move closer to the windows. “We’re all in here.”

“Maybe it’s one of the staff?” The suggestion came from the vicinity of the bar; Veronica guessed the speaker as Gia. 

“That’s lame.”

Veronica was forced to agree with Dick. It was lame. Why bother to set up all the backstories and character histories if you weren’t going to use them for the plot? She unsnapped the front pocket of her messenger bag and withdrew two LED flashlights. After clicking on hers, she passed the other to Logan.  “Guess we’d better go take a look.”

A smile flirted across his lips as he took the Maglite and tipped his head towards the door. “Lead the way.”

Wind whipped through the entrance, tearing the knob from Veronica’s grip and pushing the door wide. Logan caught it mid-swing before it hit the wall and held it for her. Obviously the captain’s weather report wasn’t just part of the story. Heavy snow was beginning to fall and a thin shroud of white already covered the ground. 

Veronica slowed her pace, taking tiny steps across the slick flagstone to the lawn. Icy flakes pelted her face, stinging her cheeks and making her eyes tear. A wide path was cut through the center of the grass leading directly to the water’s edge. 

They trudged along. Each slippery step treacherous as the snow continued to build. Veronica kept her eyes focused ahead. The body on the pond had yet to move. Its stillness rang warning bells in her brain. It was too cold out here for a partygoer, or even an actor, to remain that motionless. 

She stopped on the berm and glanced over her shoulder. Everyone had grabbed coats to follow her and Logan outside. All of them still believed this was a game. “I think you need to stay here,” she shouted over the wind. “And I’ll go—”

“Steal all the clues?” Cole scoffed. “We should all go examine the body.” He moved around her and took a step onto the ice.

Logan angled the light to see Veronica’s face and frowned. His gaze slid toward the body. “Let me go first,” he said, brandishing the flashlight in Cole’s direction. “No sense for us to be wandering around in the dark.” He enveloped Veronica’s hand in his. “Ready?”

Together they started across the frozen pond, inching closer to the body.  It was bathed in light from a camping lantern. The green lamp was on its side in a puddle of red. 

Blood. 

Veronica tightened her grip on Logan’s fingers when she saw the face of the corpse. A bloodied ice skate was near the top of his head, and a deep gash ran across his neck.

“Nice makeup job, dude.”

“I don’t think that’s makeup, Dick.” Logan played his flashlight over the scene. There wasn’t much to see. 

“Hey, that’s my stalker from senior year- Leo somebody,” Gia gushed. “Well, he wasn’t like, you know, an actual stalker, stalker, but he followed me around, and I definitely think I was his type.”

“Young?” Carrie said, without any trace of humor. 

Veronica didn’t have any doubt, but she needed to be sure. She let go of Logan’s hand and used her teeth to pull off her glove. Gingerly, she stepped closer to the body. Careful to avoid the blood, she bent down and felt Leo’s wrist for a pulse. “He’s dead.”

[pffbts]

grocery shopping with yoongi

GENRE. fluff, angst, crack.

CHARACTERS. min yoongi x reader | no supporting character.

W.C.  1.3K

AUTHOR`S NOTE.  domestic yoongi is my kink but this was meant to be fun one but ended up becoming a tiny bit angsty. liyan, you know me, i`m a sucker for sad fics. but anyway, happy reading love!

[08:16 PM] [the sound of rain is the proof that someone is there with someone]

―your closest best friend, your fellow escaping-for-solitude best friend―min yoongi was currently slouched against the other side of your grandfather`s sixty years old sofa scrolling through his twitter feeds, being the most silent about your existence beside him rather than the crickets which almost barks louder than the dog at the neighbor`s place.

you, on the other hand, had yourself scared to death when you found out there`s absolutely nothing in the fridge for tonight`s dinner. your reflex works faster than your literal brain and so you kick his feet which makes yoongi staying as unbothered as possible. then, at least three seconds later, for your eyes which felt like suns shooting through his phone, yoongi moved aside his phone from his face to lift his brows at you.

“i`ve an idea.” you declared, your chest sticking out in an unladylike way. not that yoongi was bothered by that.

too lazy to speak, your couch partner raises one of his brows this time.

“let`s just skip dinner tonight and binge-watch free`s first season.”

yoongi felt like his insides will collapse any further second if he sees another night of makoto tachibana flexing his muscles in front of his face.

“now now….,”yoongi, finally lifting himself up from the couch, sit at your level with a disgusted face and you knew what that face meant but that also means you were successful in your attempt, “you might get fed by that muscle pig but not me. i need real food.”

“but-.”

like a flash, he gets up from his place and stands beside your sitting self. you, out of habit, tried straightening the creases of his t-shirt at the back.

“wear a pant at least, we`re going grocery,” he mumbles the last part but stayed as loud as possible for the first part.

you attempt to hide your bare legs by stretching the front of your baggy t-shirt while yoongi attempts to hide his face of disappointment and walks off towards the kitchen to probably plan for tonight`s dinner. your evil smile comes to your face as you watch your little friend wiggling his way away from your sight.

“chicken.” yoongi `s voice booms through the grocery store and you look back at him with stars in your eyes, “we definitely, need that.” yoongi gives a little nod at you, along with that a pressed side smile.

sighing heavily, you tug onto his t-shirt`s sleeve, “that`s why yoongi, that`s why i`m telling you we need to get married as fast as possible. see? you even know what i wanted. you would be such a good, loving, sincere and hot husb-.”

“broccolis….yes! we oh so definitely need that too.”

angry at his sudden ignorance, you throw his hand away from your grip and pick up the basket you were carrying and moved to the spice section.

you heard his laughter from other side and almost giggled at yourself too. he should be at least thanking you for calling him hot when all he does is crash at your place to sleep and give you company while you`re busy fangirling over anime boys by cooking your dinner.

but it`s alright, you pull out a packet of powdered red chilli as your thoughts wander back to the times when yoongi didn`t even ask what happened back at home but stayed with you that night when you moved in at your grandpa`s place. he knew what happened instantly. he said he could read what was there on your face. you had laughed at him because of all you knew throughout your life that your face was the hardest to read by everyone you acquainted in your days.

“bullshit,” yoongi had said, “your face is the most expressive. you`re literally like an open book.” but in his mind, yoongi knew your face screamed for help and though he didn`t have his own complexity sorted out, he tried overcoming them just for you. he became your permanent best friend two years ago and stayed the same way till this very second.

yoongi`s voice calling your nickname in that urgent tone snapped you out of your reminiscing thoughts. you walk back to the non-veg section and the sudden sound of rain welcomes you along with a crease filled forehead of yoongi.

“aaahhh, it`s your worst fear.” you give him a sad smile continuing, “it`s raining.”

“and, i thought i would be able to eat our chicken faster than your makoto`s muscle flex.”

you slap his chest and give him a wide-eyed look, “don`t you dare insult my husband. at least he loves me.”

yoongi hums back at you in return while you take his basket from his hand and moving towards the cash counter.

you heard one of the store worker saying to his colleague that it`s going to be a long spell. he confirms that it`s been forecasted this afternoon. yoongi and you both have settled yourself against the exit of the store while the packets filled with your grocery stayed sitting on the floor. at the end, yoongi paid half the total bill while you paid the other. it`s been very usual in-between both of you so you didn`t stop him. you knew it won`t bear any fruit at the end.

“it`s been a long time, right?”

you, who have closed your eyes while listening to the lullaby of the raindrops hitting the road, opens them back at the sudden question from the boy in front of you.

you hum back in reply and it became silent for a while again.

“what are your thoughts about rain, y/n?”

you felt indifferent hearing your name in his voice. it`s not very usual that he calls your name rather than your nickname and so, you stared at him for a long time before it dawns upon you that he has asked you a question.

“i don`t know….i`m not very lyrical like you but all i know is that,” you tried looking away from his face and looked hard at the droplets that have gathered against the glass door outside the store. though you were standing inside the store, you could feel the coldness seeping through the glass and cooling up your skin. “when it rains, it always means that someone is always with you. no matter where you are, alone or not, if it rains, it means you`re not alone. and especially if you`re in pain, rain becomes that someone who listens to your screams when no human does.”

the rain stopped after an hour and when both of you went home, yoongi, while you changed up in your room put free season one on your television and hurried back with silent steps towards the kitchen making the most delicious chicken in his lifetime.

fin.

▶RULES. ▶ REQUESTS/QUESTIONS. ASK BOX

[angst-fairygodmother]

The Sweet Kiss of Seafoam (a Geralt x Jaskier Little Mermaid AU)

A/N: Alright, if I stare at this any longer I’m going to do something dumb like delete the doc and start over. So here it is. Presenting: my entry to @the-winter-witcher‘s 2k follower writing challenge! Or part 1 of 2 of it anyway. Chosen prompt: “I’ve run out of words my song, just let me die, me die” Word count: 2793 Content Warning: None  Now cross-posted to AO3: here

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Once upon a time, in the depths of the ocean, there lived a kingdom of merfolk. These merfolk were completely isolated from the surface, but thrived in their watery domain. There were many architects, sculptors, and other artists who were held in high esteem in the kingdom, but the most cherished and lauded of all the merfolk was the youngest prince, whose name was all but forgotten by the world who called him Jaskier, after the cheerful yellow flowers they had seen on their visits near the human lands.

Young Prince Jaskier was energetic and friendly, a lover of fine things and adornments, always eager to hear some new story from his people who roamed, desperate to go on grand adventures, to see more of the ocean and learn of the human lands. Sometimes he even wished he could explore their lands himself, or at least go to the shore and see the blossoms which his nickname made him into. But where his heart truly lay was in music. Gifted with instruments and voice, he sang so often there were jokes that he could not speak, and all who heard him were enthralled by the beauty he wove from sound.

His father, a widower, and his grandmother and his many brothers all loved the young prince very much, and wanted nothing more than to protect him and keep him safe beside them for all his days. But as he grew older, he became more curious and full of daydreams and his every song became about the world above. Knowing how important it had become to him, they agreed that for one night only, as a gift on his sixteenth year, he would be granted an escort of three of the best warriors, to take him to see the surface, but he could only glimpse if from afar, for fear that humans might see him.

On that fateful day, Jaskier could not contain his excitement as he flited from place to place, waiting impatiently for the time they would set out. Once they had, he carried on for the entire journey, speculating on what they would see and repeatedly stating what he was most excited for (which was never the same thing twice), much to his guards’ amused annoyance.

When they surfaced, Jaskier finally fell silent with a gasp, so awestruck that he found himself at a total loss for words. Above their heads, great ribbons of light danced through the starry night sky. The curtains of eerily glowing greens and purples and blues waved and warped through the pinprick lights in a haunting echo of the pattern of the water that the four merfolk floated in.

None of them had ever heard of such a thing in any tale of the world, and while Jaskier wanted nothing more than to stay there, entranced by it forever, his guards bristled defensively.

“We should retreat, Your Highness,” one of them cautioned.

“It could be some sort of devilish enchantment,” the second continued.

“Don’t be silly,” Jaskier finally breathed. “Nothing evil could be so…incredible.”

“Still, we should keep moving if you want to see land before we must escort you back.”

Reluctantly, Jaskier lowered his eyes from the strange lightshow and followed as his guards led him across the waves.

The sight of the great coastal city as the dawn broke behind it was equally as awestriking as the aurora had been. The whitewashed stone houses were dip-dyed in hues of pink and golden in the morning light, windows sparkling like an inlay of diamonds. The gentle breeze carried the expected smells of sound and sea, but also brought ones he had never encountered before but made his mouth water all the same: sweet fruits, the sour tang of baking bread, the rich smoke of cooking meats. From somewhere within, a dog barked. Overhead a gull cried. The church bells began their gentle morning peal, sonorous and striking. It was a symphony and a muse at once. People stirred all about as they watched from their distant vantage. And the young prince fell in love.

~

Jaskier took a deep breath and tried to quell the fear aching in his gut as he swam into the darkness of the Sea Witch’s lair, the thorns which made up the cavern around him reaching out as if to grab him, tearing at his fins and skin like teeth. No matter how much he had pleaded, his father and grandmother had refused to let him return to the surface, to help him follow his great dream. And so he had journeyed, a last resort, to the Sea Witch’s home, and he was determined not to let anything get in his way.

“Why have you come Mer-Prince?” a voice boomed, echoing around him before he had made it far from the entrance.

“I seek the Sea Witch. I…I need her help,” he called back, hating the tremor in his voice.

“Then you shall have it,” the voice around him laughed and the thorns withdrew suddenly, as if called back. “Enter.”

He stayed the course before him as best he could in the pitch-blackness. Just when he began to fear that he would be swimming in ink forever, the way opened up into a broad cavern, lit by the soft green glow of phosphorescence. At its center, lounged like a queen, on a throne made of the bow of a wrecked ship, cushioned with waterlogged purple velvet, sat the Sea Witch.

She was pale, almost the white of bone that had been stripped clean of blood and flesh and polished over time. Her lower half was less a mermaid and more an eel with tattered vertical flukes and mottled green and brown flesh. Her face was gaunt but somehow still beautiful, all sharp angles and hard lines. Her eyes were silvery, molten and hot and reflective in the algae’s glow. As he watched, he realized that what he thought was hair was actually long, dark tendrils of a jellyfish, swirling about her head like a deadly cloud. Violent red lips curled back around a needle-toothed smile.                                  

“Please,” he asked, trying to be brave as he bowed low to her. “My name is Julian, though all who know me call me Jaskier. I am one of the Princes of the Merfolk and I have come to ask a favor of the mighty Sea Witch.”

“Oh? And what would one of the great Merfolk need of me?” she asked, sonorous voice tinged in mockery.

“I wish to be human, for a time, so that I might explore the surface world and learn of its wonders.”

She laughed, and Jaskier felt a heat creeping across his face and neck. Much to his discomfort, the laughter continued for some time before finally she stopped, leveling her unnerving gaze at him as if she could see into his heart.

“Tell me Little Fish, why should I help you do this?”

“Because it is all my heart desires. I would give you anything in return for this.” He spoke without thinking, uncaring of the consequences.

“I will do you this favor, then,” the Sea Witch purred, a predatory smirk dancing on her features. “I will give you legs Little Fish, for as long as you like, and your fins shall return when you again touch the ocean of your birth. But if during your time on shore, you give your heart to another, and they do not return your love, your voice belongs to me, forever.”

Jaskier gulped. He knew that a deal with the Sea Witch always came at cost, but he hadn’t thought she would take that which was most precious to him. Still, he reasoned, his time on the surface would not be long and if he was careful, he would not risk his heart or his voice. So he agreed to the Sea Witch’s deal, offering her a drop of his blood to seal the contract.

With a few muttered words and a wave of her hands, the deed was done.

“You have twelve hours to reach land, Little Fish, lest you find yourself below the waves with useless feet and mortal lungs.” She laughed at this and he darted from her lair.

He did not have time to go back to his home, to say goodbye or collect any things. Instead, as soon as he had passed the Maelstrom that guarded the Sea Witch’s domain, he shot for the surface, swimming desperately until he broke through the waves, feeling a strange new burning in his lungs. Stars whorled above him, more than he had seen the first time or ever dreamed there could be in the sky; he sucked in a deep breath and fought hard the urge to just float on his back and stare at them until the sun rose. But he had heard enough stories of drowned men that he knew not to, pushing in a direction he hoped was shore, hoped he could reach in time. The sun began to peak over the horizon to his right, and on he swam. It rose high in the sky, beating down on him, burning his skin, so unused to its rays, and still he kept going. Never before had swimming been a challenge, a struggle.

He felt sore and more exhausted than he ever had when he finally dragged himself out of the surf. The sand beneath burned as badly as the sun but he was beyond caring. No sooner had he dropped to rest on the shore when his body convulsed, a piercing agony splitting through him like a thousand knives. He thought he might have screamed, but it became too much and his world fell to darkness.

~

When next young Jaskier woke, he was laying in an unfamiliar place. Every inch of his being ached, despite the softness of the mattress he rested on, the blanket draped gently over him. Blinking in the bright yellow light, he struggled to sit when a gentle hand pressed against his shoulder, guiding him to lie back down.

“You should remain lying down,” the voice was soft, sweet, feminine. “I don’t know how you ended up on our beach, especially so…bare, but you were in quite bad shape.”

“Where am I?” he croaked, voice rough from disuse, letting himself sag beneath her touch.

“Oh! You’re in Castle Lettenhove. My maid and I found you when we were out for our evening stroll. We thought you were dead at first!”

He nodded as if her naming of a location meant anything to him, and his head spun at the small movement. “Well, as you can see, I am not.”

“No, but you were badly burnt in the sun, and likely to be sick from the heat. You are welcome to rest here until you have recovered, and we’ll find you clothing that will fit since whatever happened to you – you don’t have to tell me, I will not pry – it destroyed everything you might have been wearing before.”

“Thank you,” he said softly, “that is very kind.” She spoke to him for a while, utter nonsense to him (more likely gossip about lands and people he knew nothing of he suspected) and gradually her dulcet tones lulled him back into a healing sleep.

~

The next time he woke, there was an older man leaning over him, inspecting him, and he jumped, shrinking away from the shrewd gaze under bushy eyebrows.

“Do not worry,” he said evenly. “I am a mage, a healer currently in the service of the masters of this castle. I just need to see how your burns and scrapes are doing.”

Jaskier nodded reluctantly, still feeling distrust for the man, but knowing that healers were overall good, and that he desperately needed the care.

~

The pattern continued for a week. Jaskier would sleep, waking occasionally to eat or drink water. Most times, it was the young woman who tended him with her soft touch and sweet smile and her musical voice. Occasionally, he would wake to the inspection of the healer, and it would leave him feeling unsettled, as if the man guessed more of Jaskier’s nature than was safe.

After a time, it was deemed that he could begin to move about. The first morning, the woman, Mirina she had introduced herself as, brought him a billowy white shirt and blue pants, blushing slightly as she offered them to him.

“I had to guess at your sizing,” she explained. “But these are some of my brother’s old things and they should fit you. I hope they’re not too heavy on your wounds…”

He smiled gratefully and threw back the blanket to stand, causing her to shriek and throw up her hands.

“Have I done something wrong?” he asked, tilting his head in puzzlement at her obvious distress.

“Yes!” her voice was high and tight and he frowned at having caused such a change to come over her. “You’re not wearing anything yet! I don’t know how things are done in whatever strange place you came from, but you can’t just…expose yourself to me!”

“Oh. My apologies,” he crooned, trying to set her at ease again. “I will cover myself over again until you leave the room then?”

She nodded rapidly, the red blush still patently obvious across her ears and neck and the bits of her face that peaked out from behind her hands. “Yes. Yes that would be good.”

Despite this incident, things were not awkward between the two young people. She stayed at his side, letting him lean upon her while he got used to the feeling of taking steps on feet, which he pretended was unsteadiness caused by his injuries and time abed and she resolutely did not mention the oddness of his repeated reminding her of that.

He learned that Mirina was a countess, and while the word itself meant nothing to him, he understood it to be a title of importance. And so he marveled at her willingness to spend her precious time with him, a boy whom to her knowledge was nothing and no one. It was one of many things about her that he marveled at if he was being honest, like her kindness and her beauty and her quick wit.

Soon, their friendship turned to romance, and one night, after a picnic on the very beach where she had found him, they had entwined, and she had taught him many things about how human pleasure (or maybe female pleasure, he didn’t know or dare to ask) differed from his own.

“Dandelion,” she murmured, wrapped in his arms later that evening, after several vigorous lessons. “You know that this cannot be, don’t you?”

“What do you mean?” he asked faux-innocently. Then with a chuckle he added, “I’d say it already is and has been.”

She sat up quickly then, one hand planted on his chest so she could stare back down into his blue eyes with a near-identical pair.

“I am serious. I am to marry a lord from a neighboring land, and while I may not ever love him, I will be a good wife, and that means I cannot love you either. I’m sorry.”

“Oh.” He felt something bubbling in his chest and the air felt like it was pulled from his lungs. He sat up too now, bringing strong arms up to steady her as he did. He looked away from her, trying to crush the wide-eyed fright he felt.

“Jaskier…” her voice was something like a sigh or a groan but not quite either.

He sat in silence for a moment, swallowing several times and waiting.

“Maybe…maybe we should just head back inside…” he finally said.

Relief washed over him; he still had a voice. And yet, he sombered; he was going to lose the thing that was becoming precious to him, even if he did not love her yet.

It was not long after that when Mirina married Lord Vaughn, from some inland holding, and Jaskier attended the wedding, dressed in red and blue. Their romance had ended the night on the beach, almost as quickly as it had begun. Seeing how proud she was of her wedding, he felt happy for her, and genuinely wished her well as she boarded the carriage to her honeymoon and the start of her new life.

Shortly after that, he set out himself. He thanked the staff for all they had done for him, carefully avoiding the unnerving healer, and left Mirina a letter, explaining why he needed to go. After all, he had come to see human lands and go on grand adventures, and he had almost lost it all before he even left the seaside.

[breanime]

Rewrite the Stars (Part Three)

This part is a little long, but I hope you enjoy it. We finally get to meet Adeline (who I know you’re all gonna LOVE)! Comments are appreciated! (Also, that gif if totally how Caspian looks at the reader)

*gif not mine*

You woke up before dawn and headed down to the port. You personally made sure Adeline Clearwater’s rooms were in perfect order. You also spent a few hours to double check the sails, stock rooms, and spent some time polishing the wood on the hull. It was like you were operating on instinct rather than actual thought or consciousness. You waited for the rest of the crew to arrive. If Lord Drinian was surprised to see you, he didn’t show it. Reepicheep raised an eyebrow as he approached you, standing on a ledge of the ship.

He sighed. “Another restless night, dear one?”

You shrugged. “I’m fine.” Both of you looked up when you heard a horn sound close by.

Caspian’s carriage was pulling up, surrounded by your fellow kingsguard. You should have been a part of his escort, but you figured your efforts were better served at the dock. You watched, silent and still, as Caspian stepped out of the carriage. His hair was pulled back and he was wearing a burgundy shirt that flapped in the breeze and a pair of dark slacks. He held his hand out and helped a woman in a gorgeous gold dress out of the carriage. She bowed her thanks and stepped back. He then helped another woman out—and it dawned on you that it was Lady Clearwater in the golden dress, which meant the other one was…

…Adeline Clearwater was wearing a light blue dress that was far too puffy to make maneuvering on a boat easy, and some very high glass heels. She was effortlessly beautiful, with thick red hair that fell down her back in curls and big blue eyes. She sent Caspian a dazzling smile as he spoke with her mother. She didn’t walk so much as float, and you couldn’t take your eyes off of her—although you were partly staring to avoid having to look at Caspian.

“I hope these next few days go by quickly,” Reep said under his breath next to you, “I don’t fancy having to play delivery-boy.”

“Few days?” You turned to him. “This voyage should take at least a few weeks, Reep.”

“The voyage, yes,” he answered, “but we are to drop Lady Clearwater off before we really get into our course. She is going to her uncle’s island for a visit.”

Hm. “So she isn’t staying long? Or—is King Caspian leaving with her?” You asked.

“We’re just dropping her off,” Reepicheep replied, “This is just an excuse for her to spend more time with the lad.”

You nodded, taking what Reep said in silence. “I’m going below deck,” you said, slinging a pack of rope over your shoulder.

Reep made an affirmative noise, and you moved to get away from Caspian and Adeline when you heard a feminine voice say: “A woman?”

You turned to see Caspian walking Adeline up the steps and onto the ship. He had her hand tucked into his arm, and she was smiling, wide-eyed as she looked over at you. Truly, they were a stunning couple.

“This is Lady Y/N,” Caspian said, staring over at you, “She is a part of my kingsguard and a gifted sailor.”

You stared at Adeline. Were you supposed to bow or kiss her hand? “Good morning, Lady Clearwater,” you said, trying not to sound too awkward.

“Oh, please,” she smiled sweetly, “call me Adeline. I don’t even let my own servants call me Lady Clearwater.”

You tried to smile but it came out as more of a grimace. Her own servants, huh? So what did that make you? “Yes, well, your rooms are all ready, Lady… Adeline. I hope they are to your liking.”

“Thank you, Y/N,” Caspian said. You still wouldn’t look at him. It hurt too much.

“Could you be a dear and bring my things to my room?” Adeline asked you. She looked up at Caspian with hearts in her eyes. “This is my first time sailing so far away. I fear I may have brought too much. I may have to make use of your rooms, Caspian.”

You had absolutely no desire in unpacking that sentence or unpacking her things. “I’m going below deck,” you announced, turning and practically running away before anyone could say anything to you. You felt Caspian’s eyes on your back, but made an effort not to turn back to confirm the validity of that feeling.

You spent the rest of the morning avoiding Adeline and Caspian. You made sure to be on the other side of the ship when you set sail and busied yourself with helping the men as the day went on. It was a beautiful day to sail, but the sun and soft sound of the waves hitting the hull did nothing to brighten your mood. You went about the motions, fulfilled your duties, but you didn’t feel the same sense of pride or accomplishment in it that you usually did. Instead, you felt lonely and hollow. You were the one who’d made the decision to reject Caspian—more than once—and you knew that your reasons were valid, but… Seeing him with Adeline on his arm had been far more painful than you’d imagined it would be. How could you stomach seeing that for the next few days? Or even worse: the next few years if Caspian decided to take her as his wife, his queen…

…you barely slept a wink that night.

You woke up early the next day, tired and sad, and made your way to the deck. Hardly anyone else was up, and no one seemed to be in a talking mood, which you were grateful for. You stood off to the side and stared out into the ocean. The water looked warm and inviting. The waves lapped against the side of the ship and you closed your eyes, letting the sound calm you. Before you knew it, you had made this your morning habit. Every day you woke up early and stared out into the sea.

You loved the ocean. You loved being a part of the Kingsguard. You loved… Caspian. But you loved him too much to let him lower himself by being with you; a commoner, a nobody. He deserved better. If you had been born a noblewoman, a princess, someone of worth, you would be with him in a heartbeat. But you weren’t, and so you couldn’t. You wanted to, so badly, but it just wasn’t meant to be. Every day you watched Caspian with Adeline, and every day you thought: now this is what a Queen looks like. You tried to spend as little time as possible around either of them, but of course, you still had to work with Caspian. You kept your interactions with him brief, and tried only to speak with him on professional, official terms. It was hard, and lonely, and Reepicheep kept giving you a strange look—but it was something. Adeline was almost always in view of Caspian; standing beside him as he addressed the crew, smiling up at him as he unfurled the sail, a yard away as he consulted the maps—but Caspian didn’t seem to be paying her much attention. You almost felt sorry for the girl. Almost. Reepicheep was fond of complaining about the fact that she was constantly giving orders. (“Does she think we’re soldiers or staff?” He’d mutter one morning after she’d asked him to grab her cloak from her rooms.) Caspian, for his part, wasn’t a big fan of that habit of hers either, as you’d learned.

“Y/N,” Adeline had said, leaning back from her seat at the table, “Could you fetch me another drink?”

You had just gotten in from fixing an issue with the hull, which meant you were wet and tired and had only come in to grab something to eat when she’d accosted you.

“That is not her job,” Caspian had said, frowning over at Adeline. His voice was firm and you could see the tick of irritation in the set of his jaw.

“Oh,” Adeline floundered, “yes, no, of course not,” she tucked a strand of crimson hair behind her ear and smiled wide, “I was just wondering—”

“—You look exhausted, Y/N,” Caspian said, standing up and pulling out his chair, “Please, sit, have something to eat.” He ushered you into his seat with a smile. You were proud when you just sat without swooning.

“Thank you, my King,” you’d said, voice low and a small smile on your face. Adeline had muttered something under her breath, but you had been too distracted by Caspian’s dark eyes on you to pay her any attention. He had seated himself on the other side of you and watched you, smiling, as you ate from his plate. It had been a strangely intimate moment—even though there had been other people in the room—but it had also been…familiar, and natural. Caspian had started asking you about the waters, which led to you asking him about his favorite part of the voyage so far, which led to him asking you about your favorite part, which became an hour-long discussion. You hadn’t even noticed that some of the others had left the table as you and Caspian talked for what felt like the first time in forever. It was nice, being able to talk with him—you had missed your friend. You had been so engrossed in the conversation that you hadn’t even noticed Adeline leave the table with a huff… but you did notice the huge grin on Reepicheep’s face as he got up and followed her out.

Things had started to fall into a routine after that. You still woke up before anyone else to stare out into the sea, and you still kept a distance between yourself and the King, but you allowed yourself to talk with him, and laugh with him, and bask in the warmth of his smile… You decided to soak it all up while you can.

It was another solitary morning for you as you looked out into the sea, thinking of what you wanted but could never have. You heard Caspian’s voice in your head, telling you those three words, sounding so earnest, so true… But even though Caspian said he wanted to be with you, he was still naïve when it came to the workings of the world. He was the King, he had been born into nobility and status and power, he was favored by Aslan and close with the Kings and Queens of Old—how could he understand that life was not a fairy tale when his practically was since birth?

“Y/N?”

You opened your eyes, but didn’t turn around when you heard Caspian’s voice. You could see a small mass of land surrounded by the light blue waves of the ocean.

“Y/N, are you alright?” You both heard and felt him take a step closer to you.

“There’s an island over there,” you said, looking straight ahead, “It wasn’t on any of our maps.”

Caspian was standing beside you now, and you both looked into the distance. He took out his telescope and peered into it. “So there is,” he handed you the tool and you looked through it as he spoke, “Do you think it’s dangerous?”

You couldn’t stop the smile from spreading on your face. “I hope so.”

Caspian turned to you and grinned. His smile was brighter and more beautiful than any sunrise in Narnia could ever hope to be. “I suppose it would be negligent of us not to go and explore it,” he pocketed the telescope when you handed it back to him, “And put it on the map, of course.”

“Of course,” you agreed, “So should I gather the boys?”

“Actually,” he flexed his hands at his sides, “I think it would be better if we just take a small group.”

You shrugged. “You, me, Reep,” you counted on your fingers, “maybe Silas and Duke. Oh—and Lady Adeline will probably want to come.”

Caspian grimaced. “Yes, she… she probably will.” He cleared his throat. “Y/N, you and I haven’t been able to really talk since—”

“—It’s better that way,” you forced yourself to smile, “I’ll get the boys together,” you tapped on the ledge and stepped back.

“Y/N,” Caspian said, wrapping a hand around your wrist, “Please.” You licked your lips as you turned to him, taking in his wide, dark eyes as he stared at you. “Please.”

You should have moved out of his grip, you should have walked away, but you couldn’t. It had felt like forever since you’d last felt his touch. You couldn’t move—you didn’t want to move. “Please what?” You whispered.

“I don’t want to marry Adeline Clearwater,” he said, eyes boring into yours, “I don’t want to be with her.”

You tried to push the spark of joy that came through you down. You had to be the logical one here. “It’s only been a few days,” you said carefully, “You’re just getting cabin fever.”

“I’ve spent months on the sea with you,” he said back, “and I never got tired of being near you. If anything,” he flexed the hand that wasn’t on your wrist, “If anything, I wanted to be closer to you.”

“You asked her to come here,” you reminded him.

“I only did that because I thought I had no other choice,” he said, shaking his head, “You made it quite clear that you don’t feel the same way about me as I feel about you.”

“I never said that,” you hissed, stepping closer to Caspian, “I said that it wouldn’t work, I said that I could never be with you—”

“—Because I’m the King—”

“—yes, exactly,” you ripped your wrist from his grip, “Look at me, Caspian,” you stepped back and watched his eyes trail over your form, “and then look at Adeline. Can’t you see the difference?”

“Of course I can,” he said softly. You felt your eyes burn. “The difference is that I love you.”

You shook your head slowly, feeling your heart ache with the weight of your love for this man. “Then listen to me,” you commanded him gently, “I…It was never my intention to make you feel unloved Caspian, I don’t want to hurt you,” you sighed, “Because I do love you. I…I have probably loved you for a long time now. But it’s because I love you that I have to step away from you. You are the King, Caspian, the greatest King Narnia has ever seen. Being with me would only drag you down, and I could never allow that.” You wrapped your arms around yourself and took a breath. He was staring at you with wet eyes, and every part of you wanted to pull him into your arms, to take his pain away. But you couldn’t. “You are meant for greatness, Caspian, and I won’t get in the way of that.”

“I was meant for you,” he said, “You’re my destiny, Y/N.”

You closed your eyes, swallowing back the tears. How many times would you have to have this conversation? How many times would you have to break both your hearts?

“Caspian!” You both looked up at Adeline’s voice. She was wearing yet another one of her gorgeous, impractical dresses that was flapping around beautifully in the morning wind. “Why, you’re up early.” She turned a brilliant smile to you. “And Y/N! Good morning.”

You heard Caspian sigh behind you as you discreetly wiped at your eyes. “Good morning,” you said back.

“Caspian,” she chirped, nearly tackling him as she forced her hands around his arm, “I was thinking perhaps you and I could take breakfast in the Captain’s quarters this morning,” she batted her eyes up at him and you felt sick, “just you and I.”

“Unfortunately, that won’t be possible,” Caspian said, his voice clear and strong, “Y/N and I are going to explore that island in the distance,” he pointed over his shoulder, “and we really need to be going.” He stepped out of her grasp and held his arm out to you. “Shall we inform Reepicheep of our plans, Y/N?” He smiled softly.

You nodded, taking his arm, and let him lead you away to find Reep. When you turned to glance back at Adeline, she was glaring at you. She was a pretty woman, but you had never seen such an ugly expression on anyone’s face before in your life.

Reepicheep and Lord Drinian were quite pleased with your discovery of the island and decided to send a small group of six to explore it. Caspian, yourself, Reep, two brothers named Nip and Kip, and Lady Adeline gathered small kits and hopped in one of the rafts to sail towards the island. You could have cut the tension with one of Reepicheep’s little knives; Caspian was staring, unabashedly, at you while Adeline was alternating between staring sadly at him or glaring over at you, while you were just trying to row the damn boat while Nip was trying to boast about his first sword fight and Kip rolled his eyes, and Reep was smirking over at you, enjoying the show.

You were relieved when you reached the island. Your legs ached from being in the raft and you were glad to put a little distance between yourself and the others in your party.

“You know, Lady Y/N,” Nip said, sliding over to your side, “I’ve never met a woman like you before.”

“I’m sure you have, Nip,” you said back drily as you looked around the island. There was a small forest that you were itching to go explore.

“But I truly haven’t,” he went on, “I mean, for a woman to be as skilled with a sword as you, and to be such a fine sailor, and—quite frankly—be as beautiful as you are—”

You laughed in his face. What was he talking about? “I’m not the only woman who knows how to wield a sword you know,” you shook your head, “and I won’t be the last.”

“All the same,” he said, grinning over at you, “you certainly are the best lookin’ sailor I’ve ever seen, if you don’t mind me sayin’…”

You laughed again. Nip was barely even a teenager, but he was much more confident and social than his brother. Of course—that didn’t mean his advances would get him anywhere, but you did find his antics amusing. “And how many sailors have you seen, Nip?” You teased.

“Y/N,” Caspian called you, voice deep in the open air on the island. He was glaring when you turned to look at him. “You and I will check the island,” his dark eyes turned to Nip, who visibly shrank beside you, “Nip, you and your brother will set up the camp on the beach.”

“Yes, my King,” Nip said, nearly tripping over his feet as he ran away from you and over to his brother, who was laughing at him.

“And I shall accompany you as well,” Adeline was holding up her skirts as she tried to walk over to where Caspian stood. Her heels were sinking in the sand. “Won’t I, Caspian dear?”

You, Caspian, and Reep all did a communal flinch at her words, but Reep was the one to speak. “The King has asked that you remain on the beach, with Kip, Nip, and myself to ensure your safety.”

You looked over at Caspian, who simply slung his pack over his shoulder. Adeline’s mouth was open in shock when you turned back to look at her. “Oh,” she said, blinking with a blank smile on her face, “But, wouldn’t I be safer with you, Caspian?”

“I think it’s best you stay here,” Caspian answered her, “Y/N and I will be back before dark.” He turned back to you and inclined his head towards the treeline. “Shall we?”

You nodded. “Yes,” you turned back to Reep—who was clearly holding in a laugh, “We won’t be long, Reepicheep,” you warned him.

He only laughed in response.

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

Things are gonna get spicy on the island! As always, you lovely folks know I’m easily influenced to write more/faster by comments! Thanks for reading!

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[twdmusicboxmystery]

Radiation Theory - Connecting Grady to Coming Arcs

 Okay, let's talk about radiation. Let me first give credits to @frangipanilove for first figuring this out. It's something that's been percolating for all of us for a while, but she is the one who first articulated it. I also know she’ll be doing a post of her own on this topic, which will probably be more extensive than mine.

First, I’ll talk a little bit different times we’ve seen radiation references throughout the series.

Let’s start at Grady. If you go way, way back to when I first started my account, I have to say that Trevitt really bugged me. I felt like something about him was really significant and that we ought to be reading more into him than simply a random person brought into Grady that became a pawn in Dawn and Edwards’ games. But even in the years since, nothing has really cropped up to indicate he was of any special significance.

Let's review. Edward said Trevitt fell out of a second-story window. He had serious internal injuries and Edwards didn't think he could save him. Yet, despite that, he went out of his way to have Beth give him the wrong medication and kill him. Which means that he was very threatened by Trevitt.

As with all things Grady, I think there were double meanings all over this, but the way the writers presented it made a certain amount of sense, which meant that no one really asked any deep questions. Edward seemed just insecure enough that he would do something like this. Even if it was totally unnecessary.

The question I always asked was why he would want to kill Trevitt. Trevitt was a doctor? Was Dawn really such a terrible leader that she would rather have one doctor instead of two? You think they'd be happy to have more than one. But Edwards was obviously afraid of being replaced and we, the audience, have to trust it was a well-founded fear. If he was so afraid of it, perhaps because she'd really threatened to replace him before.

At the end of the episode, we find out Trevitt was an oncologist (cancer doctor) at St. Ignatius hospital. So Edwards knew him professionally.

We didn't get a whole lot more in terms of radiation until S8. Remember that when TF was conducting war on the Saviors outposts, they came across one that was leaking chemicals. Many of the walkers had radiation burns and this toxic stuff was spilling out into the water and the surrounding land.

A lot of us tried hard to read into that. It felt very significant, like something we needed to pay attention to. But again, not much came of it in the plot.

About the only thing that affected the long-term plot was what happened to Father Gabriel. After he and Negan covered themselves in irradiated walker guts to get through a horde, he got sick and lost part of his sight. It was just the luck of the draw that father Gabriel got radiation poisoning and Negan didn't. Gabriel became a walking embodiment of the Sirius/Dog Star symbolism. Between this and Still/Alone callbacks around this time (when Dr. Carson died) we couldn’t help but relate it to Beth.

But it’s still hard to figure out where it sits in the grand scheme of things. Why Gabriel? Why now?

Now let’s fast forward to S5 of FTWD. Obviously, radiation was a big theme in this past season. Grace was wandering around trying to stop nuclear reactors from melting down, and both she and Alicia were exposed to the radiation in a big way. We spent half the second half of the season wondering if Grace would get sick from radiation poisoning at any moment. It was probably this heavy emphasis on radiation in the plot of the season that helped @frangipanilove pull this all together.

And finally, this past Sunday in 10x01, we had a radiation reference. Luke was concerned the fallen satellite might have brought radiation with it. Eugene didn’t seem too concerned about it, though.

Many theories in the fandom are circulating about Ezekiel perhaps having cancer. It’s pure conjecture for now, but if he does, we may be able to connect that to the radiation theme as well. After all, what is one of the major treatments for cancer? Radiation?

And therein lies the crux of the importance of the radiation theme.

So, remember the cure theory at Grady? We’ve always about how they might have been treating the virus in some way. I've always thought that it really was more of a treatment than a cure. The way in which they could possibly save people from walker bites—though with no guarantee—but wasn't a blanket cure for the virus either.

So, here's our collective hypothesis. We think the people at Grady were using radiation to treat the virus.

Let me explain. First of all, it would make a lot more sense for Edwards to be threatened by Trevitt if Trevitt was specifically radiation doctor (oncologist). Edwards’ fear of being replaced would make much more sense if they were using radiation to treat the virus. Edwards was not an oncologist. He was a research doctor who didn't even have a practice. Dawn really would probably favor Trevitt over him. He knows more about radiation.

It also explains why she demanded Edwards save Trevitt, even though he was something of a lost cause. Edwards claimed the man couldn’t be saved and they were wasting valuable resources on him. Dawn herself was usually very against that and would cut off care (such as with Carol) if there was even any doubt about their survival. Why, then, did she demand he be saved? Probably because he knew a lot about radiation and could have helped them.

When Dawn tells Beth she has to eat, she says, “if you don’t eat, you’ll become weak and then you’ll need more treatments.” While we can’t prove anything about a suspicious wording, the way she said “treatments” made it seem like more than just run of the mill medical treatment. It sounded like something more specific. Radiation treatments, perhaps?

There's also the opening scene where Beth was locked in her room when she woke up. I’ve always thought they locked the door because they didn’t know if Beth would ultimately live and didn’t want to risk her waking up, staggering out in the hospital as a walker and eating people (as happened at the prison in 4a). So all I’m adding here is that they didn’t know if the radiation treatments would work.

Also remember how weird we’ve always found it that Dawn talked about how Beth had a chance to be part of something important here and maybe the most important thing in her entire life. Delusions of grandeur, anyone? But if they were working on a cure, that makes more sense. Again, nothing different here. We just think they were using radiation to fight the virus.

But here’s some real evidence that we’re barking up the right tree. I figured out not long after S5 that Beth was being treated for blood clots. Others noted that her IV had heparin in it, which is a blood thinner. Edwards said she had a concussion, and no doctor in their right mind would give a patient with a head injury blood thinners. It could kill them. So right away, something didn’t jive.

Then I noticed the little white machine that Edwards tries to use on Joan. One of my followers who knew medical machines told me it was a deep vein thrombosis machine. Those machines are used to treat blood clots as well. So that was proof—along with the heparin—that she was being treated for blood clots, as was Joan after being bitten.

I did some very basic Google research and guess what? Cancer patients who receive radiation are at a higher risk for blood clots due to that radiation. Heparin is often given to them in conjunction with radiation to cut down on blood clots. Do you see If Grady’s patients received radiation to deal with walker bites, it would make perfect sense for them to also be treated with heparin. *mind blown*

Let's return father Gabriel and S8. If the radiation hypothesis about Grady pans out, suddenly FG’s arc makes a lot more sense to me. Think of it this way. The radiation resulted in him looking like Sirius/Dog star, right? And Sirius = return symbolism. Well, it will be radiation that saved Beth's life and will allow her to return to TF. In other words, radiation makes the Sirius return possible.

This is our new hypothesis as to the Bite/Cure theory. Not only were they working on a cure or at least treating walker bites at Grady, they were doing it using radiation.

Now let’s consider 10x10. Luke asked if the satellite had any potential for radiation, and Eugene didn’t seem worried. So maybe we’ll see some radiation sickness from this, but personally, I think this was more symbolic than anything else.

So, all during Fear this past season, I talked about the water scarcity situation and how the helicopter people are purifying water, right? Well, a little over a week ago, after spoilers for 10x01 were leaked which said a satellite would fall from the sky, I was trying to figure out how to put together the ideas of water scarcity and radiation. Because based on the symbolism we’ve seen, they seem to both be related to Beth.

Then it hit me: wormwood.

Okay, so we know this show is big on biblical symbolism, right? Well, for those who don’t know, in the book of revelation, it says that near the end of the world (apocalypse) a meteor will fall from the sky and hit the earth. It will poison 1/3 of all the water on the earth so it’s undrinkable. People who have studied revelation assume that something like that must be due to radiation the meteor is giving off. Radiation of that magnitude would make the water undrinkable. That is to say, it would be irradiated. Anyone who drank it would get sick from radiation poisoning.

Well, of course this was a satellite, not a meteor. And I don’t see how plausibly this satellite could infect anyone’s drinking water. So, it’s not literal. This satellite symbolically represents wormwood from the bible. Once it falls, the water will become undrinkable. So it’s not a drought in that the water will dry up. They’ll have water, but just won’t be able to drink it. That’s where the helicopter people come in because they know how to purify water. The fact that Luke asked Eugene if radiation was an issue just reinforces this as a wormwood symbol.

So, does that mean that TF’s water supply is bad now? I actually thought when I read the spoilers that this would mean that. Symbolically, after the satellite fell, the water would go bad. But after watching the episode several times, I actually don’t think it’s going bad yet.

Why? Because of how the sequence of events in the show represents what we’ll see next. See THIS POST from two days ago for details, but remember I said the first section, Training Day, is about everything that’s come before to prepare them for what’s to come. The next 4 sections show different characters doing different things (Michonne, Aaron, Daryl, Carol, Negan, Eugene, Rosita, Siddiq, FG, etc) and represents their separate arcs during the Whisper War, which is now upon us. And each of these sections ENDS with the satellite falling.

So I think this is telling us that the radiation/water scarcity arc will happen right after the Whisper War. That will be the next arc. And we don’t know how long the Whisper War will last. I tend to think probably for this season, but there’s no way to tell yet.

So what does that mean for Beth? I honestly don’t know. Just because we won’t see much about the helicopter group stuff until a later time doesn’t mean we won’t see Beth earlier. It could be that she shows up during the Whisper War (remember that we’ve seen a lot of her symbols around Alpha and the Whisperers) and then when the water goes bad, she’ll know where to go to find water because she’s been with he helicopter group before. Or it could be that we won’t see her until after the Whisper War. If we don’t see her this season, well the Rick Grimes films are slated to start releasing this next year, and many people have suggested she’ll be in them.

So I really don’t know, but this is how we think the radiation theory is related to Beth. So if we see more indication of it in the future and mention it, you’ll have a frame of reference for it. Thoughts?

[stardust-and-blades]

Lost future au pt. 7

okay I lied there are a few more scenes I’d like to do before the letter revealTM

#SorryNotSorry

------------

It was 3 in the morning, and Keith couldn’t sleep.

He tossed and turned, shocked to see Lance did not so much as stir or curse at his boyfriend for all the movement. He was known to be a deep sleeper; so deep his alarm has to be set a whole hour before he is meant to wake up simply because he wouldn’t budge. There would be times Keith would have to smack him with a pillow to make sure he did not get a third ass chewing from his boss. No matter how much Lance pushed for an afternoon shift or night shift, they love scheduling him in the mornings. 

It’s no wonder he crashed at Keith’s plenty of times. His apartment was closer. And with them being official for eight months, Keith’s home suddenly became Lance’s.

He didn’t mind. It was nice not to come home to an empty bedroom, wondering if he should adopt a cat just to ease the loneliness. 

But as he and Lance grew closer, Keith became incredibly anxious. Not because he was thinking of breaking up with him, god forbid. He may not be able to fully say ‘I love you’ yet, but it doesn’t mean he cared for Lance any less.

No, what made him anxious was the future. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but something gnawed at him; whispered to him daily that he is running out of time. That he needs to take precautions, for if he doesn’t he would be setting Lance up for the same pain he endured from the loss of his parents. He didn’t want that. He wouldn’t wish it on his worst enemy.

Keith turned to his sleeping Lance, the boy’s limbs sprawled out and an arm reaching for Keith. When he felt the sheets instead of a warm body, Lance opened one sleepy eye and mumbled a groggy “Keith? Come back to bed...”

Keith smiled gently at his significant other, taking his hand and combing his hair out of his face.

“Go back to bed. I’ll be a minute.”

“Mmmkay...” Like that, he was out like a light. Keith carefully removed his hand from Lance’s, waiting for him to snatch him back up and prevent him from going anywhere. For a moment he was sure Lance would iron grip him, but he simply squeezed Keith’s hand and rubbed his thumb on the inside of Keith’s palm. He did nothing after that, Keith free to move about.

He did not want to let go. He wanted to curl up next to Lance and forget his thoughts; cast them to the wind and live each day by slow day. But if he didn’t do what is on his mind now, he may never do it. Who knows what fate has in store for him.

Better safe than sorry.

Keith shuffled to the desk not far off. He messily searched for the small lamp, fumbling for the erected switch on the back. He flicked it on and opened a drawer, extracting a pen and paper. He sat on the creaky chair and wracked his brain for what exactly he would like to say, the subject grave yet needing...needing...what?

He clicked the top of the pen several times, chewing on his lip. He wasn’t a wordy person. Never had been. That’s Lance’s job. Keith was all about action, yet this was the only thing he could do. Was capable of doing.

He looked towards the shelf with his hippos, thinking back to that terrible day. His tiny arms around two very big stuffed animals. A smiling lady dropping him off at a foster family. The kids running to their parents after school, engulfed in long awaited kisses and hugs.

Then, he got it.

He began to write, and did not stop until dawn, when his eyes were the heaviest and when he knew he could nap the rest of the day as Lance headed to his job for the morning. 

Lance no doubt would wonder what kept him up.

It’s a good thing insomnia is something he can use as a cover.

As the sun broke through the surface of the window and Lance’s alarm went off for the second time (the first Lance chucked the clock on the floor), Keith finished the letter and hid it in a notebook of his. 

He did not hesitate to crawl back into bed and hide himself in the embrace of his best friend; his partner; his life. He pushed away what he wrote and allowed himself to truly live in the moment. To take in Lance’s sweet scent, the steady rise and fall of his chest, and the smooth, undisturbed brow. 

Keith closed his eyes. For once--just once--he prayed to be wrong.

--------------------

“Here,” Hunk says, breathy and nervous. He holds an envelope towards Lance, the front inscribed with his name in Keith’s handwriting. Lance stares down at it, confusion taking hold of him.

“What...what’s this?” He doesn’t dare touch it, as if it would burn him in an instant. His mother, sitting by his side on the couch and also in the dark, grew weary. Her son hasn’t been recovering well, but just today he ate a full meal without trouble. She fears he will go back to his poor diet and continue to call into work, the mourning period they granted him growing strain. 

Hunk avoids his eyes. Rather, he flips and cracks the cookie Lance’s mother gave him, not really hungry.

“It’s a letter. From Keith.”

Lance’s tired gaze sharpens, dashing to Hunk’s soft, conflicted orbs. 

“What?”

“Keith. He...he gave me this years ago.” Hunk explains, Lance’s mother going still and her mouth hanging open. “When you two were getting serious, he began to take precautions. For this. He asked me to hold onto this in case a day comes where he wasn’t here anymore. I was going to give it to you before the funeral, but...you were in enough pain.”

“Yeah, and I’m totally doing swell now.” Lance says, sarcastic and bitter. He stands up a dark look shadowing his face. “Keep it. I’m going back to bed.”

“It’s five in the afternoon.”

“And I’m done with this conversation.” He slowly walks to his room. “I’ll see you later.”

“Lance, sweetie,” His mother calls out, hushed and dripping in worry. Lance stops, tilting his head in the direction of her voice. He has never heard that tone from her. Not since his father passed, his mother deep in grief but holding on for the sake of the family. She begs him with her gaze to come back, to hear what Hunk has to say. Out of all people she should understand how he is feeling, so why is she looking at him as if he were heading to his own demise?

“Please. Look at the letter. For weeks now I have been looking after you, and the grief is eating you alive. It has invaded your heart and is turning it to ash. While I do not know what is said in the letter, I know Keith wouldn’t want to leave you like this. He wouldn’t want to leave you dying on the inside; blaming yourself for what happened. Please, my sweet boy. Look at what he left for you.”

“You don’t understand--”

“But honey, I do.” She whispers. She stands up, walking over to him and taking his hands in hers. Rivers of sorrow swim in her eyes, yet they never leak out from their prison.

“Lance, do you remember the day your father died?”

Lance is quiet for a moment. “Yes...”

“And do you remember the week after the funeral? The day of my birthday?”

“Yes.”

“I want you to tell me--to tell Hunk--what happened that day. What I received and what you said to me.”

Lance, bristles, awkwardly looking at Hunk. He never told the story. Never bothered to, since it happened when they were just about ready to enter college. Lance did not want to bother Hunk at the time, he was really busy traveling across the state checking out which college was the best for him to spend his four years. He heard about his father’s passing, yes, and he sent his condolences. Offered to cease his college hunt to spend a couple days with the mourning family. But Lance, the youngest of the family and the one closest to his mama, told him he would be fine. Technically Lance wasn’t fine, but he had to be strong for his mother. Had to be there for her, and he wanted to do it without outside help. His mother always portrayed a large amount of strength, but at the time he had to switch places with her and be the son she needed.

Now in exchange, Lance’s mother is being strong for him.

“You received flowers that day,” Lance whispers, Hunk having to inch closer to fully understand what Lance was saying. “It was your birthday, and you were delivered roses. It was what dad did every year--that and a loving note and a trip out to your favorite restaurant. Except he couldn’t take you out that time. Or anymore afterwards. And...and...” 

Lance tries his hardest to continue the story; to do what his mother asks. But a flood of tears overwhelms him, Lance shoving the edge of his hands against his eyelids, turning away from his mother. He hasn’t thought of his dad in a long time. With him and Keith, Lance wonders how he made it this far. 

His mother cups his face in her hands, turning him to face her and cease hiding. she bends his head to meet hers, their foreheads touching as she wipes away his tears. It reminds her of when he was a toddler, crying as soon as he tripped and made contact with the ground. His exorcised his lungs, the high shrills of a baby Lance coursing through the hallways and bleeding into his siblings peaceful spaces. His mother did the same thing as she is doing now, holding her son and whispering gentle declarations of praise and love for his efforts to walk. Her son does not need to learn how to walk like then, but he does need help in standing back up when life has pushed him down. 

“He said in a letter surrounded by two dozen roses ‘My love, if you are receiving this, I unfortunately left the earth before you. While I may not physically be able to show my adoration, I will do it in spirit and send you two dozen roses until you meet me again in God’s embrace. Do not dwell on what could have been, my dear. But remain in the now, and take our children in my stead out on the town. Smile like the old days in Cuba when we bumped into each other on the beach. Laugh like the time I dropped ice cream on a cyclist as we talked for long hours on the balcony of a hotel. Dance like we did on our wedding day, full of merriment and your belly consumed by butterflies and our first born. Go out among the stars and know I am walking beside you, bathing in the light of your soul. Do not stay sad, my love, for we will reunite again.’ “

“Me and Veronica took turns consoling you.”

His mother lets out a shaky laugh. “Yes, but you two also did what seemed impossible: you made me smile during a horrible time in our lives. Afterwards, you and your father helped me pick myself up when I felt lost among a sea of grief.” She combs her hands through his hair. “I don’t want you to remain in the dark. Neither does Keith. So please, my dear son, look at what he left you, because just like your father he has left you the words you need to read. To breathe again. It may hurt, but in the end it may leave you with less of a hole in your heart.”

Lance slumps, giving in to her wishes and allows her to pull him back to the couch. He silently held his hand out to Hunk, his friend placing it in his palm.

He takes a breath, holds it, and opens it.

Dear Lance,

[alchemisland]

The Moors Mutt - II

https://www.wattpad.com/676844776-the-moors-mutt-ii

II. Limbo

Rising early, if rising it was and not merely stirring from a wakened restive state, I walked a barren stretch. At pale dawn birds like Aztec idols flighted at my stirring. Cold light stained the pasture either side. Sleepshod, the road to Cairn Cottage found me quiet company. Even the tinkers were not yet to the road in their triskeled wagons.

When the machine architect of our world was in infancy, men of old, men of renown, used more than sight in their primitive observations of our world. Already we, we as mankind, had realized what appeared as reality was deeper yet than simple tangibility. Further back towards the chaotic and infinite churn of the burning epoch, when mankind had not language to manifest destiny and lived subordinate to Echidna's descendants still fearsome on the plain, parts of the brain which one day became memory centers first stirred to life, elongating the possibility of human memory. Scent still is brother to memory.

The air was heavy with scent when I relinquished vision, only for a short time, and let wind corral me. The breeze carried faint lavender.

A pebbled stretch I crossed stirred a memory of my late father and a codex of heroic tales he purchased, whose high adventure stirred me like nothing prior. At six, maybe seven years old, tales of old Arabia appealed greatly. Fabulous kingdoms wrought of yellow stone against a tangerine haze, swirling tarot sun bemused of countenance, scorpions armoured like chargers sending rodents to their redoubt, the cloying madness of it all. I visited them in dreams, jumping from the path of unruly camels, watching the impenetrable waves humbly part in the wake of Royal palanquins.

Their heroes were unlike our knights. More often broody boys who preferred quill to falchion. Brooding teenagehood made me relish the stranger stories, tales without lessons existing solely to unnerve, speaking on the bleak lives of Tartarian wizards. Older, into adulthood, I came to enjoy Greek tales most. The tragedy of Ajax in his lover's plate leaking on the golden sand moved me. Waves, caressing the moored fleet in passing, bursting against the shale where the pyre burned. Since, when I hear crunching pebbles, I think of soldiers marching on the beach at Troy.

I heard the crunch of a trap and waited hopeful until the crude plume fixed atop the horses head appeared like the mantle of some deposed pagan lord. Ixion's disc four times divided had been fixed to bear this chariot. Its trundle ground debris to powder. I hailed the man, a being of wind, every strand of hair or cloth lank enough to lift stood in disarray. A peak stole his brow, but a smile waved me aboard. He never spoke, though carried me within shouting distance of the manse.

Inside chaos reigned. Lady Sizemore's estate was measured first in paper, not coin. Hundreds, thousands of jaundiced sheets, all in disorder busying every surface. Before a single coin changed hands, a great many hours I spent hauling boxes, within which were more boxes where spiders large as potatoes spun temporary wonders above the invoices.

I wonder what effect prolonged tedium has. Such thoughts are entertained in the avoidance of work that should never be given lucid credence. An entire day dedicated solely to translating letters in incomprehensible cursive, it felt ridiculous. My mind, perhaps reflecting its surroundings, felt dulled, unfocused. So long I stared, when I pried my eyes I found feint margins plastered across reality.

The previous night's visitations I had pondered, ultimately chalking to anxiety. Nothing substantially portentous. Unfortunately, another day was required before I indulged my cryptozooligcal fancies.

*

Darkness in ravenfeather arrived prematurely. I gathered my belongings, wondering where the time went, then ran to the track and the sounds of the the last husbandmen bound for Sperrin. I found easy passage. Too easy perhaps; I was cursed to endure indignity on a wagon halfheartedly scraped of its stinking contents; with my legs lolling over the side, I was soaked in every splash. I arrived back mud-caked, a shambling golem. Lar tended bar. I wondered had he stirred in my absence. Anticipating my thirst, two mugs were set.

I dropped my satchel, enjoying relief akin to weightlessness by contrast, and we drained tankards like soon-to-war Saxons, speaking of weather. I asked had anyone noteworthy visited, mostly from politeness. When asked had the room served, I replied it had done so more than adequately. Again, politeness.

Not wishing to seem overeager, I spared him my dream. If the tale was relayed to me, I should say how convenient the very man hoping to find the beast would experience a vision.

Besides, in the unlikely event we found a mangy badger after I'd described a prehistoric horror.. perish the thought.

'Do we depart tomorrow?' Lar grunted, pretending to clean.

'Short delay actually. I'd have said from the doorway, only for the ale calling. Alas, labour remains. My charges lust for satisfaction. They are at Rome's gates! Distant cousins write in droves. By air, land and sea their letters come, squeezing through grates, shimmying down chimneys. Forget the beast, if they find me I'm dead.'

'We sank tankards enough last night. I've seen folks pale on the dizzy morning after the night before. If this delay is to spite me, let me allay concerns, I'm the man for this job. We're the men for this job.' He shot a glance at Fergus, a pale lance cleaving his brow.

I looked to my empty cup then longingly at his selection. Lar fingered a cask, but reached further back and took another instead.

'My god, man. Boil a pot and toss it down your trousers. No such notions occurred to me. We're expedition mates! I didn't make a dent in the work, really.' I raised a silencing finger to hear the splash of ale. 'There you have it. Mystery solved. If the mystery of the beast is this easy, we're laughing.' I inhaled its aroma. Fruity, potent, sickly almost. 'This expedition diary I mean to publish, any thoughts?'

Lar's measured tone returned. Careful as a tiptoeing sinner, he asked 'You good?'

I smiled. 'Only Ben Adhem saw the book, ask him.'

Lar stove the ashen helm crowning his cigarette, plunging the embers into the cold bronze bowl. 'At writing.'

'You should say! I tease, I tease. To answer your question, yes is the answer. Humbly, in my hand, the pen is like the master mason's chisel, from whence grand cathedrals spring forth from their less divine constituent parts.' Lar was fumbling for his tobacco already and I thought what small use that vice would be in peril.

'I'm convinced.' Lar spoke quickly, stumbling over the words to get them out. I took no offence at his zeal to change the subject. 'Do you have a manuscript at hand?'

'Not with me, unfortunately.' He stifled a sigh of relief. 'Upon returning home one story heavier, I'll ensure you receive signed copies of every one. I'll sing them My favourite tub of Lar. Yours literately, Beastman. That way you'll know it's me.'

Lar's ale, a home brew, was a swift agent, promising to travel from your mouth to the toilet's in twenty minutes. I joked he might patent it for a medicine. Call it the Midas touch. Everything it touched turns to gold: toilet seat, floor, shoes if you weren't careful.

I spied Fergus. His thumb led a blunt edge across the ribbed bark of a sprig, from which he had carved two lidded eyes and a pursed mouth.

Lar lit a cigarette from the flared end of the last, then discarded it on the ashen pyre.

Lar had to raise the hatch spoiling any hope of a dramatic exit, but I hovered over the stool while I spoke. 'Departure two days hence, on the strict proviso no unpleasant libel suit comes once the story hits print. Rest assured, I'll include nothing untoward, but I reserve the right to artistic licence. Print the myth.'

'Libel is a city crime.' Anticipating my desire, Lar walked while he spoke. I mirrored his step, slipping through the open portcullis to sleep, perchance to scream.

*

Lying in bed, I wondered what to include in my chronicle; exciting details only, or every charged exchange? Nobody asked how the shipwright felt constructing thousands of ships without prior notice. They only wanted Achilles. The reader will concede, I have included much of the mundane.

Well-oiled, I slept easily. Set like a star I saw things past, dark present and murky future, useless without chronology, stifling their prophetic nature. The beast came again, shaking the ground.

Waking, it seemed I fell to the mattress from a height. Not far enough to endanger, but enough to worry the springs. I lurched, took my journal from the bedside locker, levered its purple tongue to split its leather cuirass and let it whip to a clean page.

One mark on the opposite face demanded attention. A black circle, subtle as a bearded chin, formed by the swift fury of a graceless wrist, its blackness total.

How strangely the lines blended. One moment a nest of fastened rat tails, one mark indistinguishable from another, the next a clear set of growing rings. In its swirling centre around the maelstrom's eye, the paper tore with the fury of the quill.

I found the pockmark on every page. Someone strained greatly to make an impression so indelible. First I thought Fergus with his ham hands, unknowingly forcing the nib through the page. When he had the chance, or the notion? It seemed unlikely. Throughout the workday it was with me, resting once for a moment unattended on the desk.

Despite concerns, I knew no progress could be made at this hour. For now it seemed safe to be about my duties without much extra precaution. I returned the journal, pulled the duvet across my shoulders and turned to sleep, when suddenly a violent jolt racked the shutters so fiercely they juddered back into place with a great thunk.

I winced toward the disturbance and found mocking empty blackness. As my head sank back into the pillow, a shuddering pulse shook the building. A rippling seismic attack. Unlike quakes from within, which sally in waves, this was a single detonation, like a dying star; one magnificent shockwave that stirred everything in the world at once, only for a moment. I stemmed panic, falling to courageous platitudes that would embarrass the most shameless Kipling-mimic. Without panic, I deduced more likely my head sharply turning had disturbed my equilibrium, giving the walls the appearance of motion. As if in answer to my doubt, dust sprinkled from the rafters.

Nothing else came. I waited, steeled. I pretended to be brave and at some indeterminate point, felt into a brave slumber.

*

Lar, blackbird that he was, rose early. He emerged from the fugue state that best pleased his constitution and stretched, his wingspan filling the alcove.

He found me in my linen cell, bewhaled as Jonah.

'Terrible day.' He drew the shutters. I pulled the sheets down over my face to the sight of Lar's stocky silhouette in the dirty light. Tapping his pipe twice on the sill, he plonked one cheek on the ledge and struck a match. 'Anything you want from town? I'm going to get supplies. I should be away most of the day. There won't be a return trip before we go. Speak now or forever hold your peace.'

'Ambulo in pace.' I tapped my journal, 'I have everything.'

'Do you have a mac?' The rain beat harder.

'No, we're English, some Irish. Although I heard tell that a distant branch traded their roses for thistle stalks.'

Lar shuddered, ill-humoured before midday, despite protestations he needed no proper rest. 'I mean a waterproof.'

'Oh give me credit. That's humour.'

'We in the smiling countryside call it idiocy. There's a time for revels. Unless you've been up all night, dawn isn't it.'

'I don't have one and I'd like a loan if that's what you're asking, thank you. I didn't sleep well now you mention it' I tossed my feet onto the cold ground and felt for a sock.

Lar watched the rain spilling in romantic sheets. 'You'll need an ark to get back. It's like a bog when it rains. No one will be able to get you. Not me, not the constabulary, nor anyone else. If the weather worsens, make sure you get back in time. Otherwise, everything will be closed until further boatice.'

'Boatice?' I said.

'Now that is humour. Rain, boats, further notice. Get it?' Lar left more spritely than when he entered.

[nightmareonfilmstreet]

Let’s Try That Again; The 10 Best Horror Movie Remakes

The horror movie remake is a polarizing topic that drives the horror community crazy. You either love remakes, or hate them. Few horror movie re-imaginings have been able to rise above their “remake” branding. Too many fans chalking their existence up to exploiting a film or franchise’s existing fandom, being made purely for profit, being rushed, or re-envisioning iconic characters to a lesser extent.

Despite not being received with open arms, there are a select few remakes that stand above the pack – converting their audiences of naysayers into rabid fans, re-invigorating the franchise they birthed from. Here are our picks for the 10 best horror movie remakes!

  10. Friday the 13th (2009)

Against the advice of locals and police, Clay (Jared Padalecki) scours the eerie woods surrounding Crystal Lake for his missing sister. But the rotting cabins of an abandoned summer camp are not the only things he finds. Hockey-masked killer Jason Voorhees lies in wait for a chance to use his razor-sharp machete on Clay and the group of college students who have come to the forest to party.

  Alright, I may get a lot of flack for putting this one on the list. But I really do love the Friday the 13th remake. It’s over the top, it’s got everything you want in a slasher, and there’s exactly 13 kills. While it doesn’t hold a torch to the original from 1980, this 2009 remake directed by Marcus Nispel ain’t half bad. There’s some really fun kills and a bit of back story about Jason.

  9. Piranha 3D (2010)

Spring break turns gory when an underground tremor releases hundreds of prehistoric, carnivorous fish into Lake Victoria, a popular waterside resort. Local cop Julie Forester (Elisabeth Shue) must join forces with a band of unlikely strangers — though they are badly outnumbered — to destroy the ravenous creatures before everyone becomes fish food.

  Piranha 3D is the perfect summer film! The original was released in 1978 and was titled simply Piranha. In 2010 we got a 3D remake that took the thriller element from the original and added way more boobs. And humor. And blood. Piranha 3D is a cheesy gore-fest. Directed by Alexandre Aja, it has an all-star cast including Richard Dreyfuss, Christopher Lloyd and Jerry O’Connell. A great flick to watch in a group while vacationing at a lake. Just make sure to maybe check there’s not another lake under that lake.. filled with ancient piranhas.

  8. Quarantine (2008)

Reporter Angela (Jennifer Carpenter) and her cameraman Scott (Steve Harris) are doing a story on night-shift firefighters for a reality-TV program. A late-night distress call takes them to a Los Angeles apartment building, where the police are investigating a report of horrific screams. The TV team and emergency workers find an old woman, who suddenly attacks with teeth bared. What’s more, Angela and company find that the building has been sealed by CDC workers. Then the attacks really begin.

  [REC] (2007) is a Spanish found footage film directed by Jaume Balagueró. The film is absolutely terrifying and exactly how found footage should be done. One year later came the American remake Quarantine, directed by John Erick Dowdle. Both films follow the exact same story, so there’s not a lot of surprises watching the American remake. Both films also set up for a bunch of sequels, some of which are really great. The American version stars Jennifer Carpenter in the lead role, who does a great job carrying the story. I won’t say much more because both of these films should be watched with no prior knowledge of the story. The first time I saw the ending was one of the few times I’ve screamed out loud while watching a horror film. I apologized profusely to my neighbors.

  7. Evil Dead (2013)

Mia (Jane Levy), a drug addict, is determined to kick the habit. To that end, she asks her brother, David (Shiloh Fernandez), his girlfriend, Natalie (Elizabeth Blackmore) and their friends Olivia (Jessica Lucas) and Eric (Lou Taylor Pucci) to accompany her to their family’s remote forest cabin to help her through withdrawal. Eric finds a mysterious Book of the Dead at the cabin and reads aloud from it, awakening an ancient demon. All hell breaks loose when the malevolent entity possesses Mia.

  Sam Raimi’s The Evil Dead was originally released in 1981. A campy, low-budget film that became an instant cult classic. In 2013, Fede Alverez’s re-imagined the beloved story of Ash and his deadites, creating a darker, more sinister interpretation. One of the biggest changes, was opting for an incredible female lead played by Jan Levy.  The film is deliciously dark, and only embellishes the silly, zany palate of the Evil Dead Franchise.  There’s been a lot of chatter about a sequel being in the works, but nothing concrete.

  6. Willard (2003)

Desperate for companionship, the repressed Willard (Crispin Glover) befriends a group of rats that inhabit his late father’s deteriorating mansion. In these furry creatures, Willard finds temporary refuge from daily abuse at the hands of his bedridden mother (Jackie Burroughs) and his father’s old partner, Frank (R. Lee Ermey). Soon it becomes clear that the brood of rodents is ready and willing to exact a vicious, deadly revenge on anyone who dares to bully their sensitive new master.

  Willard was released in 1973 and the remake came years later to screens in 2003. It stars Crispin Glover in one of his best roles, and a crap tone of rats. Glen Morgan directed this awesome remake and fills it with everything you’d want in a terrifying situation about killer rats. Glover shines on-screen as a total weirdo and carries the film with perfection. If you weren’t scared of rats before, you will be after this flick ends.

  5. The Grudge (2004)

Matthew Williams (William Mapother), his wife, Jennifer (Clea DuVall), and mother, Emma (Grace Zabriskie), are Americans making a new life in Tokyo. Together they move into a house that has been the site of supernatural occurrences in the past, and it isn’t long before their new home begins terrorizing the Williams family as well. The house, as it turns out, is the site of a curse that lingers in a specific place and claims the lives of anyone that comes near.

  An American remake from the Japanese original Ju-On: The Grudge released in 2002. The remake, directed by Takashi Shimizu, the same person who directed the original, is terrifying. Back in the early 2000’s it was harder for North Americans to access J-horror and horror audiences were grateful for an accessible remake. Starring Sarah Michelle Geller in the lead role, she carries the story with grace. There’s so many memorable moments and jump scares. While I do recommend The Grudge, I say go crazy and watch both the original and remake one after the other. Have the pants scared off of you!

  4. The Fly (1986)

  When scientist Seth Brundle (Jeff Goldblum) completes his teleportation device, he decides to test its abilities on himself. Unbeknownst to him, a housefly slips in during the process, leading to a merger of man and insect. Initially, Brundle appears to have undergone a successful teleportation, but the fly’s cells begin to take over his body. As he becomes increasingly fly-like, Brundle’s girlfriend (Geena Davis) is horrified as the person she once loved deteriorates into a monster.

  Originally released in 1958, it was a long time before The Fly remake came around in 1986. The original movie was adapted from a short story written by George Langelaan. The remake was directed by the always impressive David Cronenberg and starred Jeff Goldblum and Geena Davis. Both brought insane performances to this movie which makes it such a great remake. Of course, it is Cronenberg, so…you know…don’t eat while you’re watching it.

  3. Dawn of the Dead (2004)

When her husband is attacked by a zombified neighbor, Ana (Sarah Polley) manages to escape, only to realize her entire Milwaukee neighborhood has been overrun by the walking dead. After being questioned by cautious policeman Kenneth (Ving Rhames), Ana joins him and a small group that gravitates to the local shopping mall as a bastion of safety. Once they convince suspicious security guards that they are not contaminated, the group bands together to fight the undead hordes.

  The original Dawn of the Dead was a fantastic, beautiful, groundbreaking film from Romero, released in 1978. The remake came in 2004, helmed by James Gunn and Zack Snyder. What stands out about this remake is how far they veer from the source material. But it works! The film boasts a strong cast featuring Sarah Polley, Ving Rhames, and Jake Weber, to name a few. There’s also some heart-breaking moments and genuine scares. Oh, and zombies. Lots of those.

  2. The Ring (2002)

It sounds like just another urban legend — a videotape filled with nightmarish images leads to a phone call foretelling the viewer’s death in exactly seven days. Newspaper reporter Rachel Keller (Naomi Watts) is skeptical of the story until four teenagers all die mysteriously exactly one week after watching just such a tape. Allowing her investigative curiosity to get the better of her, Rachel tracks down the video and watches it. Now she has just seven days to unravel the mystery.

  Another J-horror American remake. Ringu was first released in 1998 based on the book Ring by Koji Suzuki. In 2002, along came The Ring directed by Gore Verbinski. This was a huge deal for us teenagers in the early 2000’s and made us all terrified of our landlines. The Ring is beautifully shot and colored mystery. It’s a wonderfully done film. It stars Naomi Watts as the mother fighting to save herself and her child, played by David Dorfman.

  1. The Thing (1982)

In remote Antarctica, a group of American research scientists are disturbed at their base camp by a helicopter shooting at a sled dog. When they take in the dog, it brutally attacks both human beings and canines in the camp and they discover that the beast can assume the shape of its victims. A resourceful helicopter pilot (Kurt Russell) and the camp doctor (Richard Dysart) lead the camp crew in a desperate, gory battle against the vicious creature before it picks them all off, one by one.

  You didn’t think I’d make this list without The Thing did you? Come on! Originally titled The Thing from Another World and released in 1951, the remake was done by John Carpenter in 1982. The Thing is probably the one film everyone will agree on. It’s perfection on-screen. Giant, snowy, cold landscapes filled with unbearable tension and fear. An outstanding performance from all involved – but Kurt Russell stands out on top. Amazing practical effects and a terrifying premise, The Thing is the penultimate remake. They actually remade this again in 2011, but let’s not talk about that..

  Those are our picks for the 10 Best Horror Movie Remakes! Are any of your favorites on this list? If not, let us know what your favorite horror remakes are in the comments below, or over in our Facebook Group!

The post Let’s Try That Again; The 10 Best Horror Movie Remakes appeared first on Nightmare on Film Street - Horror Movie Podcast, News and Reviews.

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[thegreyreylo]

Just Breathe - Chapter 7

RATING: MATURE

Sample: 

I can’t believe I actually just asked her to train with me.

 How many times had I asked her at this point? To allow me to help mold her? How many times had she told me no in one way or another? I was truly dense to ask her after she had bravely told me about her conflict with me and agreed to try to curb her anger. I deserved no part of this girl.

 “Sure, Ben.” The smile she gave me was brighter than any star I had ever seen.

I had never slept so well in my life.

 Sharing a bed with a tiny, freezing, snoring girl who became a total bed hog from the moment she fell asleep was easily the best sleep of my life. She had elbowed me and drooled on me and snored loudly in my ear but it was perfection. Her face was completely smooth in her sleep, void of all the stress and worry that constantly seemed to plague her forehead in the form of a tiny crinkle between her eye brows. Her dark lashes cast the longest shadows across her delicate cheekbones and contrasted harshly with her fading tan. But nothing could trump the beauty of her flushed pink lips, slightly parted, that I wanted nothing more than to kiss again.

 To kiss her awake the moment that she fell asleep in return for her gracing me with her presence. To kiss her so she knew how much she meant to me. To kiss her to show her how frustrated I was with her and her refusal to be by myself. To kiss her to let her know that she would never be alone again.

 But that wouldn’t be fair to her; she needed to want it.

 In the early hours I had woken up to the sound of what I assume is porgs squawking at one another. She was still fast asleep, face pressed in to my shoulder and fingers laced with my own.

 There is no way I’m waking her up.

 Readjusting slightly, I focused on the pressure that her small body had against my own and tried to desperately rein in the desire to do more than sleep. Somehow, I must’ve fallen asleep again.

    The light was streaming in at full force at this point in the morning through the small gaps in the rock structure of this little hut. Immediately everything felt wrong. It felt like waking up every other day.

 I was alone in this empty cot, with my cloak carefully tucked around me and an absurd amount of space to myself.

 “Rey?”

 Glancing around the hut I could see her cot looking just as vacant and dusty as the rest of this aged space. Sitting up hastily, I stumbled over myself trying to get to my feet and to the wretched door. Yanking it open, I ignored the bitter cold of this desolate planet of green as I surveyed the area. “Rey?” I tried again, a little louder this time. She wasn’t in the microscopic stone village upon first glance and but on my third call out I noticed smoke rising from behind one of the huts.

 Snagging my tunic from next to the cot and boots, I tugged on the shoes and jogged towards the smoke while trying to yank on my shirt. I came up behind her, sitting cross legged in the midst of thousands of scattered rocks and a peculiar aquatic animal being pit roasted over a cooking fire. Rey must’ve heard me, because she glanced over her shoulder and shot me a smile that made my knees buckle.

 “Where is the fire?”

  Ben looked like a hot mess.

 His hair was truly was disorderly at the kindest description, his shirt was crinkled and not properly tucked and one shoe was untied. His eyes had this mildly wild expression that I hadn’t seen since we were back at in Snoke’s thrown room. Breathing heavily, he dropped next to me and huffed in response to my prodding while carefully folding his impressively long limbs to match my own. I would argue that I spotted an eye roll as well. A hot mess, but hot none the less.

 The fact that I just thought that brought a burning blush to my cheeks.

 We sat in silence for a moment before he spoke in a very even and controlled tone, “Did you sleep well?”

 The burn I felt in my cheeks rivaled the heat coming off the roaring fire in front of me. Using the force, I rotated the fish and looked straight ahead. “I slept quite well,” and added after hard gulp, “and you?”

 In fact, sleeping in Ben’s arms had been the most comfortable sleep I had ever had. I spent the vast majority of my life sleeping alone on rusty pop up cots or shredded seat cushions I had collected from ship remains. It was always cold. But pressed up against one of the largest humans I had ever met was nothing like the cold. His warmth was simply everywhere that I could reach and then some. Nothing could trump the sensation of his hands on my body though. One laced carefully through my own as he subconsciously rubbed a small soothing circle against the back of my hand and the other reflexively wrapping its digits around the small of my waist with such tender precision.

 The weight of him was the most comforting feeling in the world.

 Ben seemed to be waiting for me to make eye contact with him before speaking. Chewing my lip, I turned and tried to keep a neutral expression. He raised an eye brow, but spoke calmly with a smoldering look, “Last night was incredible.”

 The blush burned its way to my cheeks.

 The words tumbled out my mouth in a fumbling rushing, “Oh, that’s great and you know you slept away most of the morning and I got up at dawn and went fishing by the cliffs after my training session before building this fire. It’ll probably take a good hour or so to finish cooking and I need to return to the Millennium Falcon and check in with the Resistance because I said I would contact them every morning for a status update in case they needed my help because I can help them even if I’m not with them. Do you need to go to your own ship? I can’t imagine you don’t have things you need to do in the First Order since you are probably the one in charge at this point-“

 “Yes, I do need to check in.” Interrupting me with a completely surprised expression and tiny smile on his face. It looked like he was possibly even trying to not smile at me and I suddenly registered how close he was to my own body.

 “Great! Let’s go.” Popping up, I was on my feet with staff in hand and striding out of the camp in an instant when all of a sudden I was stopping in my tracks as I felt his hand close gently around my elbow.

 Turning to face him, still on fire from the awkwardness of the situation he spoke quietly, “Can you wait for me? I would like to properly dress before I send in the orders for the day.” I couldn’t breathe for a moment; his face was composed but open for once. Ben wasn’t hiding from me anymore.

 I could only nod, in which he carefully spoke, “Thank you, one moment.”

 He vanished behind Luke’s hut in a few strides and I could breathe again.

 I need to settle down.

 One moment, I wanted nothing more than to be on this planet with Ben and the next I can’t even bring myself to sit next to him without wanting to run. I kept running to him and running away from him. For a man who struggled with clearly expressing himself and had a short fuse from my understanding, this couldn’t be easy for him. I have no idea the amount of self-control he is practicing aright now, or even why he is. Actually, I probably can guess why – I stopped that thought in its track.

 Fiddling with my staff, I impatiently spun it while trying to settle my own irrational nervousness.

 He appeared after a few minutes looking far more put together. Arm wraps on straight, tunic lying flat, boots actually tied and his hair straightened somewhat to the point where he was presentable. Still broody and intimidating from a distance, but as he closed the gap between the two of us and I noticed that he hadn’t bothered to grab his light saber. My heart thudded as my head tried to desperately process what that meant to me.

 He trusted me.

 “Are you ready to-“

 Instincts ceased me and all of a sudden I was wrapping my arms around his waist and burrowing my face in to his chest. Ben froze for a moment, but all of a sudden I felt his arms wrap carefully around me with one gripping my shoulder and the other at my waist. “Rey?” He asked, confusion dripping into his tone.

 “I’m sorry.”

 “I’m confused.”

 “I’m sorry, I don’t know how to do this –“, He pulled me slightly away from his body while keeping a hand at the small of my back and using the other to try to guide my face so he could look at me, “because I don’t how to do this. I’m so used to just moving on like nothing is wrong, but I’m mad at you. I’m also, well, a lot of other things but I don’t know how to talk to you. Be with you. I’m used to pulling everything together after chaos, but it just doesn’t feel fair to act like nothing is wrong.”

 Ben’s eyebrows furrowed for a moment before he spoke, “I understand, but how about we just discuss our disagreements later? I’m not going to let you be alone because you aren’t ready to talk about this.”

 I chewed that over in my mind for a moment. Maybe I could just enjoy not being alone for a moment, I didn’t have to discuss how upset I was with him yet. We both needed time to think things over, maybe? Maybe he would change his mind? Maybe I’m a fool for thinking anything will change? Sighing, I carefully returned to hugging him for a moment before untangling myself.

 “Ok.”

 “Ok?”

 “Ok.”

 He breathed deeply and gave me a genuine smile before carefully brushing my hair out of my face. “Lead the way then, Princess.”

 Now I rolled my eyes, “I’m not in a dress.” I began to head towards the staircase towards the beach, thinking he would fall in behind, but he kept pace with me despite my usual speed.

 “Doesn’t matter.”

 Scoffing, “What do you mean it doesn’t matter?”

 He grinned again, “It doesn’t matter. You don’t see yourself clearly.”

 Snapping my head around, I elbowed him and snarked, “What does that mean?”

 “Doesn’t matter.” Oh clearly I wasn’t getting anywhere on this front. Clamping my mouth shut, I skipped down a couple steps to get me ahead of his ego but he kept up again.

 “Would you like to train after we finish with the ships and eating?”

 Shocked, I glanced over my shoulder and noticed he had a nervous look on his face by the way he lightly chewed his bottom lip and tried to look casual.

  I can’t believe I actually just asked her to train with me. It was impulsive and stupid. 

 How many times had I asked her at this point? To allow me to help mold her? How many times had she told me no in one way or another? I was truly dense to ask her after she had bravely told me about her conflict with me and agreed to try to curb her anger. I deserved no part of this girl.

 “Sure, Ben.” The smile she gave me was brighter than any star I had ever seen.

 Smiling back felt wrong, like it was being smug, but I couldn’t help it. While we casually remarked on the Porgs who seemed hell bent to get stomped on (“I’m fairly certain the little one is trying to get maimed”), it was far faster going down these stairs then up and we reached the beach quickly.

 “I’ll meet you back at the fire when I’m done, Ben!” Cheerfully, before running head long up to the Millennium Falcon.

 While the sight of that wretched ship brought a wave of raw emotions to the surface, the sight of Rey was so much more powerful. She was a spark of light, constantly, even against the darkest backdrop.

 The moment I walked aboard my own ship, my mood began to deflate in large increments. It took several moments for the mundane lieutenant to inform me of the lack of progress the First Order has made on finding the Resistance and ask for new orders. By the end, I was in no mood to deal with idiotic clones when I had Rey as an option for company. General Hux had made virtually no real leads and seemed to avoiding reporting me. Normally this would be an excellent excuse to destroy the imp but today I had plans that I was keen to attend to. I handed off general orders and stalked off the ship as quickly as possible.

 Going up the staircase alone stoked the fire of annoyance in my mood and I was practically morbid by the time I reached the cooking pit. Rey must still be at the Millennium Falcon, so instead I inspected the sea creature. Speared through one of it’s eight eyes, I had no idea what the three tailed could be or if it was even edible. How Rey had caught it was unknown to me and how she knew what it could possibly be was even bigger mystery.

 I became antsy, where was she? She couldn’t have left the island, right? She wouldn’t leave?

 Carefully, I reached out through the bond and was practically startled when I felt her reaching right back.

 Ben? I’m on my way back up, sorry for taking a moment – hey, what are you doing?

 Fuck.

 Just checking in.

 I’ll be back in just a moment, on the last stair case now.

 Breathing was suddenly easier, she would be here in a moment and it was like a weight had been lifted. My shoulder’s relaxed and I picked a spot in the sand where I could see her come over the hill. She had to be taking the stairs two at a time, because she emerged over the hill a moment later and jogged in to view. Rey radiated light.

 “Ready to eat?”

 “What the hell is this thing?”

[timmyrx2000]

Dipper Steps Up: Chapter 6

Chapter Index: (1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13)

Chapter 6

When Wendy and Dipper left the Shack, the sun had just set. The night insects had not yet tuned up, but bats twittered overhead and out in the forest the woodpeckers, who didn't give up until the light was almost gone, drummed away. "Where are we going?" Dipper asked as they stepped off the trail.

"Into the woods," Wendy said. "You bring a flashlight, dude?"

"Yeah, I have one of the prototypes Grunkle Ford made."

"Good deal. I got the one I use camping. We'll need light on the way back."

In the gathering twilight they hiked on, uphill and down, skirting thickets of huckleberry, boggy growths of cobra lily, and stands of trailplant, threading their way through second-growth fir and pine forests, passing expanses of tree stumps and seedlings. "Dad logs all through here," Wendy said in one clearing, the air sharp with the scent of freshly-cut wood. She switched on her own flashlight and said, "Not far now."

Finally, they reached the cleared crown of a domed hill. Stars spangled the sky overhead, lots more than Dipper had ever seen in Piedmont, where the light pollution from Oakland and San Francisco dimmed them. No moon yet—it was gibbous and waning and, because of the recent change to Daylight Saving Time, it wouldn't rise until nearly eleven.

Creatures howled in the distance. Like the panda duck that Dipper had tried to win for Wendy, the species were indeterminate. In Gravity Falls, they might be anything. Wendy stood beside a stump and took a deep breath. "OK, dude, I know you won't freak out, but this might be rough on you. Remember I'm here for you, though. Wanna hold my hand?"

"Anytime," Dipper said. Her hand was warm in his.

"OK, Gramps, I brought him!" Wendy yelled into the night.

Dipper looked at her, but she had turned off the flashlight and he saw only her silhouette against the stars. "Huh?"

"He said not to tell you till he got here. Gramps! It's me, Wendy!"

In front of them, a greenish fog coalesced. Floating a couple of feet above the ground, it pulsed and brightened and then shrank in on itself, transforming into a hulking, bearded human figure.

"Oh, my gosh!" Dipper said. "The ghost from the Northwest mansion!"

"Dipper," the apparition moaned in its deep, rumbling voice. "I have to talk to you. I mean you no harm!"

Dipper almost sagged with relief. "No problem, sir! Wendy, I'm not afraid of him. You look a lot better, Mr. uh, Lumberjack. Your beard's not on fire, and your missing eye seems to have healed up. And the, uh, axe in your head's gone."

"I'm not haunting anyone now," the ghost explained, self-consciously straightening the blow tie it wore on its . . . beard. "I have no wish to terrify. When you're a ghost, you can take many forms."

"Dude," Wendy said, squeezing Dipper's hand, "this is Archibald Corduroy. He's, like, my great-great grandfather!"

"I wondered about that!" Dipper said. "I saw his picture in your house—uh, it's nice to meet you, Mr. Corduroy."

"You treated me well," the ghost said. "I regret tricking you and then turning you into wood."

"That . . . was sort of scary," Dipper admitted, rubbing the back of his neck.

The apparition shrugged modestly. "Well, I am a ghost."

"Yeah. Uh, excuse me, but I thought that after Pacifica let everybody in, you had gone on to, you know, your reward."

"I could not bear to leave this forest that I loved so much in life," the ghost said, gesturing with a sweep of his glowing arm that took in all the surroundings. "Also, once free of haunting the hated Northwest house, I wondered what had become of my family. I soon discovered I have a mighty descendant in Daniel, and a beautiful one in Wendy." The ghost floated next to Dipper and confided: "She likes you, boy!"

"Aw, Gramps!" Wendy said, laughing. "Cut it out, dude! Look, I brought Dipper, like you asked, so just tell him what you've got for him, OK?"

The ghost backed away from Dipper, towering over them both. "He's a brave, intelligent boy, Wendy. You could do a lot worse."

"I really like your great-great granddad," Dipper said to Wendy.

Wendy giggled. "You guys! C'mon, Gramps."

"Very well. Dipper, the root of your friend's trouble is another ghost from the past. An evil one. Well, I say 'evil,' I suppose I went a little overboard myself, but my anger branched out from the betrayal the Northwests committed against my friends and me—no, no, I'll cut that short. Forget it. I'm sorry for the bad things that came from my long hatred, leave it at that. But now an ill-intentioned spirit is trying to possess your fiend Taylor. If he succeeds, terrible things will happen. You have to stop him."

"How?" Dipper asked, his throat feeling tight.

"I'm a lumberjack, not an exorcist," the ghost said a little irritably. "You must discover the way to help. Speak to the boy's family. Seek out his mother. Tell her. She will sense the truth of what I've told you. And beware! The spirit that threatens your friend is implacable, his grip as strong as cypress roots!"

"Dude," Wendy said, "you have, like, a really good vocabulary for a nineteenth-century lumberjack!"

"Being an outdoorsman doesn't mean you have to be illiterate, girl." The ghost started to dim.

"Wait, wait!" Dipper said. "Uh, sir—who is the ghost? That would help!"

"You already know in your heart," the fading ghost said. "It is a spirit that wishes to reincarnate—for revenge!"

"Bill Cipher?"

For just a second the ghost became a little brighter and clearer. "Who? No! Think human!"

And Archibald Corduroy went out like a candle flame in a wind.

"Who did he mean?" Dipper asked in the sudden darkness.

"I'm stumped," Wendy confessed. "Man, Dipper, you took that whole thing a lot better'n I expected! First time Archibald appeared to me, I totally freaked!"

"When was that?"

"Fall, two years back, after you an' Mabes went back to California. Along in October. I was in the woods behind our house cuttin' down some deadwood for the fireplace, and there he was, floatin' right in front of me. I kinda attacked him with my axe, but that went nowhere fast. He eventually calmed me down and told me who he was and all, and said he was gonna watch over our family and protect us, and since then I never saw him again—until I started asking around about the Northwests. Few days ago, he appeared to me in a stall of the girls' bathroom at school. Now, that was awkward. Anyhow, he seemed to know you were gonna come to Gravity Falls and said I needed to get you an' him together so he could tell you something, and he said you might be scared, so not to let you know who I was takin' you to see. You weren't scared, though. Good for you, dude!"

Dipper shrugged. "Those first ghosts I ever saw, the ones in the Dusk 2 Dawn, scared the heck out of me. Mainly because of what they were doing to Mabel and your friends. But I've kinda learned that most ghosts don't want to hurt you. Who could be haunting Chuck Taylor, though?"

"Dunno, man," Wendy said. They'd both switched on their flashlights and were headed back through the woods.

They didn't talk much. But when the lights of the Mystery Shack gleamed through the trees ahead, Dipper stopped in his tracks and said, "Reincarnate. Oh, no!"

Wendy stopped too. "What's wrong, Dip?"

"No," Dipper said. "No, no, no. I hope I'm wrong."

"About what?" she asked.

He swallowed hard. "Nathaniel Northwest."

The rest of the week flew by without any substantial developments in the case. Grunkle Ford lent Dipper a few detection devices and taught him how to use them, and then Grunkle Stan drove the kids home the next Saturday.

They spent Sunday and Monday brushing up for the CAHSEE that the school would give on Tuesday and Wednesday, and to their relief, the tests didn't seem all that hard. "I hope you didn't get bored and start putting down random answers," Dipper told Mabel after the last exam ended.

"Nope!" Mabel said. "I learned my lesson after the test I took in fifth grade that said I should be busted to kindergarten."

Chuck had seemed OK, and that afternoon, their first practice since the early spring break, he recovered his playing form again, pitching hard, hitting hard, running full-out. The Thursday practice was good, too, and Dipper began to think that everything was all right again.

Saturday brought a big game with the Bay City Blues. Their win-loss record tied Piedmont's, and Coach said that the teams were a pretty close match in ability, too. The Blues had a good pitching staff, some good hitters, and typically racked up scores of five to ten points in a game. They weren't the most spectacular team, but like the Panthers they played a steady, relentless game.

Saturday morning, the game started out well. Bay City won the toss and chose to take the field. Their pitcher had game: he struck out both Mike and Petey with three pitches each, and Dipper began to think the Panthers were doomed to an early loss.

However, Chuck, looking healthy, belted out a solid double, and following him at bat, both JD and Barb managed singles, sending Chuck home for the first run of the game. Unfortunately, Jon J sent a sweet high fly ball deep into left field—and right into the fielder's glove.

Chuck's pitching began unsteadily. The first batter racked up one strike and three balls before hitting a single. The second man up got a double on the first pitch, putting the runner on third and ready to score. From the bench, Tripper watched Chuck wipe sweat from his face, kick at the mound, and then lean forward, looking determined.

Off on the sidelines, Mabel, in her cheerleader costume, acted subdued. The Panthers had a bigger crowd than ever—their away games had frankly pitiful attendance, just the kids' parents and maybe five or six students—but now the bleachers were nearly full of cheering kids and adults. Except Mabel's enthusiasm had ebbed. Dipper knew she was worrying about Chuck.

However, Chuck promptly struck out two Blues in a row. The next two batters both got on base, though, one single, one double. Then when Vance McCall stepped into the batter's box, Chuck took his time considering his first pitch. McCall was the Blues' best hitter by far.

And he proved it by pulling a low fly to far right field, where it hit and bounced, for a moment looking as if it would go straight to Petey DeFoy—but then it bounced again, taking a bad hop deeper into fair territory, making it hard to field.

McCall wound up standing on second base. The first two Blues scored, and there went Piedmont's lead. As though to apologize to the fans, Chuck struck the next guy out with three fast pitches.

Second inning began with X-Man getting a single, trying to push it into a double, and getting tagged out. However, then both Hi-Ho and Bobby made it to base—Hi-Ho successfully stealing second before Bobby's single put him on third. Dub struck out, and it was Dipper's turn.

He'd been working hard on his batting. He let a ball go by, choked up on his grip, and took a swing at the next pitch—and connected. It was a grounder, skipping just past the third baseman and running right along the foul line.

Miracle of miracles, it didn't cross the line, and Dipper made it to first! More, it took Hi-Ho home—Dipper's first RBI. For a moment, it looked like a Piedmont rally, but Big W's hard grounder was snagged by the Blues shortstop, who fired the ball home just in time for the catcher to tag Bobby out.

The Blues couldn't get anything going in the bottom half, and the second inning closed with a 2-2 tie.

The Panthers came to bat for the third inning. Coach sent Dipper and Krenk in as subs and asked Chuck how he was feeling. "I'm OK," he insisted, though Dipper thought he was sweating harder than usual. It was a dismal inning, three Panthers coming up to bat, two being put out, one getting on base, and then with Jimmy in scoring position on third base—Krenk went down swinging, one, two, three, to retire the side.

In the bottom, Chuck's pitching was noticeably slower and less accurate. Still, he held the Blues to just one run, though that put them ahead again, three to two.

Before the turnover, Coach walked out and asked Chuck, "You gonna be OK? I can pull you."

Dipper saw Chuck shake his head and heard him mutter, "I think laying off practice last week put me off my game. I'll stay in."

In the top of the fourth inning, Mike, first up, got a single, and Chuck matched it. Coach called for time out and said, "Pines, you're faster. Go in as a pinch runner for Monohan."

Though he felt a flutter of anxiety, Dipper did. He led off second, tense, ready to jump back if the Blues pitcher suddenly turned and threw to the second baseman. Like Chuck, the Blues pitcher seemed to have lost some steam, and JD blasted his first pitch into a hard liner into the gap and dug out on what looked to be a double—but the right fielder scooped it up and got it to first in time to hold him.

But Dipper, running full out, tagged third, saw the coach motion him, and, imagining the Gobblewonker nipping at his heels, blasted for home. He could hear Mabel, not leading a cheer, but just screaming "Go, Bro, go, go, GO!"

The catcher stepped up, mitt raised, and Dipper fell into a slide, raising dust. The ball smacked the mitt. Dipper's cleats touched home plate, the catcher tagged his calf, and the ump yelled, "Safe!"

The crowd went wild. Well, mostly Mabel went wild, but still. He had tied the game again, 3-all.

There the Panthers lost their luck. One man out on a pop fly, and then a double play ended their chance to pull ahead.

Chuck didn't look as if he felt well when he stood on the mound. But he bore down and struck out the first two Blues at bat—the second out was actually their first man in the rotation. Then he got two strikes past the third batter—and as he wound up for the third pitch, all at once he tottered and went down on one knee, the ball on the ground, his right hand going out to brace himself. He croaked, "Coach!"

Waylund, Dipper, and the other Panthers hustled out. "What's wrong, Chuck?" Coach asked.

"Real dizzy," Chuck gasped. "Better take me out."

The crowd applauded as Waylund helped Chuck to the dugout, and Dipper saw Mr. and Mrs. Taylor coming down from the bleachers, looking anxious. Waylund sent in Jon J as replacement pitcher, and he did his best, but Chuck's second near-faint had shaken up him and the other Panthers, and Jon J let another two Blues batters on base before the next one got a single, pulling the Blues ahead by one run. Then he pulled it together and struck the last man out.

Dipper hastily trotted in to ask Chuck how he was feeling. Chuck, huddled on the bench, shrugged miserably. "We'll take him back to the doctor," his dad said.

"Not until the game ends," Chuck said firmly. "Just a little dizzy."

It might have gone better if he'd gone then. The Panthers, keenly aware that Chuck was sick and was watching them, lost their concentration. They fought the game out, even managing another run in the top of the seventh, but it ended with a Blues win, 9-4.

Dipper had missed an easy catch and had fanned three pitches, striking out in the worst way possible. As soon as the game ended, the Taylors took Chuck away—he was walking under his own power, at least—and the team morosely apologized to the coach.

"Forget it, men," he said. "I'll stay in touch with the Taylors and get word out to you if it looks serious. Let's hope it isn't."

"We're all hoping," Mabel said. She had come into the dugout, and tears stood in her eyes.

In the back seat of the family car, as their mom and dad stood outside talking about the game—and probably Chuck's illness—Dipper said to Mabel, "I'm going over to the Taylors' this afternoon."

"I'm coming too," she said.

"If you want. Listen, do me a big favor. You get Chuck and his dad aside somehow. I have to talk to Mrs. Taylor."

"About what?"

Dipper's voice was grim: "About a family ghost."

To be continued

Note from the Authors: This was just an idea I had but the one who really worked his magic and wrote almost all of this is none other than BillEase. He’s an amazing author who usually hangs out at fanfiction.net. Don’t pass up on a chance to check out his stuff. This guy is AMAZING. He wrote the story, I just gave the plot.