#the knowing look they share in Metamorphosis that just speaks to them understanding each other so well

[sananaryon]

No characters will ever be as soulmates as Paperinik and Xadhoom

[papiliotao]

・❥・IN CLASSROOM 143

♡ — Reader: GN

♡ — Characters: Aether, Albedo, Kazuha, Scaramouche, Xiao

♡ — Synopsis: what is it like sitting next to them in class?

♡ — Content: fluff, high school AU, modern AU

♡ — A/N: classes were just better when I sat next to silly people. That's probably where I got the inspiration for this from. Have fun reading!

AETHER is the living definition of overcommitment. He's quite popular among your peers, so it's only natural that people are queuing up to ask him to join their clubs. Unfortunately, he's a bit people pleaser, so he can never find the heart to turn them down. From music to volleyball, Aether is involved in almost every extracurricular that the school has to offer, and as his desk partner in history class, you begin to notice the toll it’s taking on him.

It shows in the way he's always late and gasping for air as he sits down beside you. It shows in the way he turns to you and tiredly waves at you each class, offering you a weak smile that makes your heart skip a beat. And it shows in the way his honeyed eyes droop as he fights the temptation of slumber, all while your elderly teacher's droning voice lulls him into a state of tranquility.

He's fighting a losing battle, and he knows it. Each time the boy gives in to his weariness and lays his head on his desk to inevitably drift into the realm of dreams, his expression softens. He looks so content. You can never muster the willpower to wake him up, so instead, you leave him be and diligently take notes to share with him once class ends. After all, even someone as busy as Aether needs to set aside some time to rest in their strenuous schedule. The dark circles under his eyes tell you all you need to know about the amount of sleep he gets.

But there's no way the frigid surface of the table he uses as a makeshift pillow is comfortable, so one day, on an impulsive whim, you offer up your shoulder as a headrest instead. Aether agrees gratefully, and from then on, the sweet boy leans against you as he rests. His warm breath sends tingles down your spine, and his soft hair tickles your skin, and although his proximity makes it harder for you to take notes, you wouldn’t trade it for anything.

ALBEDO, the boy who sits next to you in chemistry, is studious yet eccentric. He’s known for achieving nearly perfect grades by utilizing his unrivalled intellect, and he’s always the first person his peers go to for help with their schoolwork despite the fact that he’s rather introverted. As a result of his reserved demeanour, he almost never offers his aid to others first, but you’re the exception. 

Whenever you look as though you’re struggling, Albedo won’t hesitate to assist you. He almost appears a little too excited to talk to you, giving advice anytime he sees an opportunity to. It's gotten to the point where even your classmates have picked up on his eagerness to speak to you, and they have started speculating that the bright boy is infatuated with you. You can't deny the fact that the thought causes your heart to flutter, but you try your best not to get your hopes up, just in case your peers are mistaken. Besides, Albedo is rather difficult to understand anyway, so it wouldn't come as a shock if it turned out that his intentions were simply being misinterpreted.

One example of said contradictory behaviour on Albedo's part has to do with his participation during lessons. Despite his stellar academic performance, he has a habit of zoning out whenever a topic doesn’t interest him. In those instances, you notice that he pulls out a sketchbook and flips to a page half-filled with doodles and begins to meticulously scrawl on the paper. Soon, snowy white is dyed shades of grey and black, undergoing a metamorphosis that transforms it into the finest of portraits. You’re always curious as to what Albedo is drawing, but you’re never able to catch a clear glimpse. Whenever you look his way, he hastily shuts the book, concealing its contents as if he is guilty of a crime.

Unbeknownst to you, the ocean-eyed boy beside you is doodling the one he is infatuated with: you. His feelings ebb into his sketchbook, and his art captures every dip and curve of your face, encapsulating all your radiance with immaculate precision. And yet, he never overlooks your imperfections either — with his pencil acting as a catalyst, he records them in great detail. Albedo is in love with every single aspect of you, even your flaws, which arguably garner more adoration from the boy than any of your other features because they make you distinct — the brightest star in a galaxy full of wonders. Perhaps one day, he will be able to show you his works, but for now, he is more than content with silently admiring you.

Peculiarity is a trait best embodied by KAEDEHARA KAZUHA, the boy who sits next to you in English class. On the surface, he seems normal enough — although one could argue that he is abnormally pretty with his snowy white hair and eyes the colour of autumnal maple leaves. However, he is also strange in other ways. Six months of conversing with Kazuha have led you to the conclusion that he is most definitely odd, but not necessarily in a bad way.

Unlike most of your peers, Kazuha often appears to have his head in the clouds, daydreaming in a world that he has made entirely his own. There are times where he stares out the window, sighing wistfully as he gazes at the vivid azure sky overhead. On other occasions, he writes poems in the worn notebook he always carries around, hardly minding the way you look over his shoulder to get a glimpse of what he's writing. Most puzzling of all, however, is his tendency to absentmindedly stare at you in the middle of class. He doesn’t even have the shame to look away when you glance back at him. He just maintains eye contact and smiles at you, causing you to avert your gaze first.

Despite the fact that Kazuha is rather odd, he is still a polite and compassionate person. Whenever you allow him to proofread your assignments, he compliments your work in embellished words that bloom with praise, and he offers advice in a way that feels warm and genuine. You feel at ease with him — unafraid of being judged. However, sometimes guilt gnaws at you when you ask for Kazuha's help because he's always the one assisting you. He has nothing to gain, but he continues assisting you out of the kindness of his own heart.

That's why when Kazuha asks you to read over some of his poetry for the first time, you agree without hesitation. A quick scan of the page Kazuha directs you to causes you to raise your eyebrows. It's a love poem that is cryptically addressed to ‘the one I adore’. You can feel the affection Kazuha harbors toward the person mentioned in the poem just by reading it. When you ask Kazuha who it's for, he simply chuckles and asks if you like his poetry, effectively dodging your question. You decide to let him off easy and give him a half-hearted answer, pretending that you aren’t jealous of the person he likes.

Over the remainder of the year, Kazuha continues showing you his poetry and requesting input from you. Each time you read his impeccably-crafted works, you feel your heart race. His poems are spun from the stuff of dreams — sweeter than the cotton candy clouds that hang in the sky outside the classroom window.

Sometimes you like to entertain the idea that they could be for you, but you always shut the notion down before it can grow into a fully-developed thought, too insecure to believe someone as handsome and thoughtful as Kazuha could ever hold such feelings for you. 

When it comes time for the final English class of the year, you swear that you’ve read almost every form of poem in existence from sonnets to haikus to odes. On that particular day, you notice something different about Kazuha. He seems more fidgety than usual, and he has entirely lost his ability to zone out, instead becoming hyperaware of his surroundings. The smallest movements you make cause him to whip his head around to steal a glance at you.

You discover the reason behind his atypical behaviour at the end of class when he hands you a simple white envelope. When you open it, you find pages upon pages of poetry, causing you to experience a sudden epiphany.

The one he loved was you all along.

Raiden Kunikuzushi — more commonly known as SCARAMOUCHE — is living proof that pretty privilege exists. At least, that’s what you believe.

He’s infuriating. No matter how abhorrent you find the way he treats his friends (who are honestly more akin to acquaintances), they never stand up to him. They simply allow Scaramouche to walk all over them. It's like he's put them in a trance with his breathtaking eyes, which are filled with starlight and tinted an indigo reminiscent of the awe-inspiring night sky.

But despite the fact that he is admired by many, his relationships are purely superficial. To his peers, he is nothing more than a sight for sore eyes, and that is what keeps the bitterness of envious sentiments from swallowing you whole. You’ll never be jealous of Scaramouche because his popularity stems solely from his looks. 

His situation evokes a feeling of pity within the depths of your soul. The notion of your contempt for the boy still remains ingrained in your mind, but you also can’t help but pity him.

Perhaps that is what pushes you to sit beside him in your physics class on the first day of school when you notice that he is all alone. You have your reservations, but the way Scaramouche is scowling makes you think he’ll explode out of sheer rage if you don't take action.

Things start off slowly. He doesn't speak to you at first. You simply see him glancing suspiciously at you in your peripheral vision, as if he believes you have ulterior motives. However, the awkward tension becomes too much for you far too quickly, so on a typical day of classes, you decide to take your chances and pass him a note in the middle of a lesson, asking him how his day was.

When Scaramouche first sees your note, he frowns. It almost appears as though he's in disbelief because someone has taken an interest in him rather than his looks. Nonetheless, he decides to entertain you and promptly responds to you, writing a reply underneath your message in impressively neat handwriting. This sparks a conversation. One instance of the two of you passing notes in class turns to two — and two to three until you and Scaramouche are discreetly conversing each class.

Your inconspicuous discussions with Scaramouche lead you to learn more about him as a person. Whereas before you thought he was just a shallow pretty boy, now you know that he’s both cunning and witty. He never fails to make you laugh with his sarcastic comments, and despite the fact that he seems rather mean-spirited at times, you discover that once he opens up, he is more than capable of caring for others. Case in point: on days where you're feeling down, he (attempts) to tell you jokes to make you feel better, and he gives you the candy that his mother packs for him, claiming that he "doesn't like sweets anyway."

If only other people could take the time to get to know the real him. Underneath the veil of entrancing vanity and mystery that surrounds him, Scaramouche is a surprisingly entertaining and contemplative person.

However, for now, it seems that Scaramouche is more than content with the relationship he has with you. He doesn't care for any of his two-faced "friends." The only one he needs is you.

Fate has rather unconventional methods of bringing people together. There are times where you believe it is sentient, cutting, weaving, and pulling on the delicate threads that bind humans together with its steady hands.

Fate must be alive and working its magical because there is no other plausible explanation for how things ended up this way. All that is to say, some otherworldly force must have noticed your desperation to get closer to your longtime crush, XIAO, and finally decided to take pity on you.

It's crazy to think that one minuscule decision can shape the course of your entire relationship with someone, but your own experiences are indicating to you that there is some merit to the claim. After all, your computer science teacher's spontaneous choice to seat you next to Xiao is what kindles the first sparks of your relationship with him.

It all starts with music. At first, Xiao doesn’t attempt to converse with you. He seems adamant on retaining his introverted ways. It's not that he doesn't want to talk to you; he's just inexperienced when it comes to socialization. So instead of making an effort to talk to you, he simply grabs a pair of earbuds and listens to his favourite songs whenever the teacher gives the class time to work.

This all changes when you muster the courage to ask him what he’s listening to. The way his eyes widen that fateful day, gazing at you with surprise evident in his pools of amber, is something you’ll never forget.

After all the silence on his end, you still want to talk to him? He is touched by your resolve, but he is also afraid of being too blunt, so instead of giving you an overly-verbose response, he asks you if you want to listen with him, offering you one of his earbuds. Xiao's heart jumps when you accept with an endearing smile. From then on, the two of you bond over music, and Xiao begins feeling comfortable enough to speak to you.

Gradually, years of distance and rigid formality vanish. Hushed conversations at the back of a sunlit classroom, shy waves from across cramped hallways, and accidental touches of his hands to yours replace the barriers that once separated the two of you. A once hopeless situation gives way to a radiant future as you finally begin getting closer to the boy you've pined over for as long as you can remember.

Sorry if there are mistakes. I feel like I'm making this worse each time I edit it :( Either way, thank you for reading and have a fantastic day/night!

[favvn]

Metamorphosis + Is There In Truth No Beauty

These scenes act almost like a conversation, a rumination on the unity that can occur from love, but also an observation of the limitations and separations that occur due to the physical form of lovers. And how amazing is it that Kirk offers the first speech, understanding the unity offered by love but also the myriad of reasons why love cannot be had (just look at his previous relationships, his duty to the ship and crew comes above all else, even his own desires for rest and love). Meanwhile Spock offers a later addition, a reflection on how human beings are innately lonely if they have no telepathic abilities to overcome the limitations of the physical form as a mind link/meld is the ultimate experience of unity between two beings. (Further rambling under the cut, although it isn't entirely Spirk-focused, sorry. Still, what are the odds the two create a conversation like this, across seasons.)

Kirk's speech to the Companion is meant to reinforce that separation and disparity/discontinuity between two different beings (one an alien, one a human). He wants the Companion to give up her love for Cochrane in despair because Cochrane has made it clear that he does not love the Companion now that he can hear her speak and know the depths of her care for him. He--Cochrane--cannot overcome the differences between his being and the Companion's being, and goes so far as to call the suggestion of their becoming a couple despite their differences "indecent" with his words to Kirk ("Is this what the future holds? Men who have no notion of decency or morality?")

(They literally did not have to cut to Kirk looking down after Cochrane's words, but they did. Behold, your man of no decency or morals because he understands and accepts love in all its many forms and species!)

Kirk's speech to the Companion has also been understood within the fandom (especially on here) to act as a parallel between himself and Spock. After all, Cochrane and Kirk are both human men who desire freedom and risk, the ability to choose and struggle for life. The Companion and Spock are aliens who act differently and hold different abilities from humans, who both find themselves saying "illogical" in response to something they cannot accept. (In my opinion, this is where the parallel ends as Kirk and Spock have been working together as captain and first officer, have grown to call each other friends during the course of the 5 Year Mission, Starfleet and its risks were an explicit choice the two made on their own long before they met, Spock has the ability to meld with Kirk which is recognized as the total unity of two beings into one, etc. but this is tangent/soapbox moment lol.)

While Kirk may be choosing his words in order to get a specific reaction from the Companion, Kirk's speech also centers around the idea of unity that can be found with love versus the many things that can prevent love and create separation instead. Because the Companion is so different from Cochrane both in physical form and desires, love cannot truly be shared between them according to this speech. Cochrane wants off the asteroid and back into the unknowns of space while the Companion wishes to have Cochrane's company if not his love returned for the rest of time as she cannot leave the asteroid without dying. Of course, what Kirk says in his speech is not truly the case as the Companion does love Cochrane despite their differences and their lack of a shared language (she has been in Cochrane's mind and has felt his thoughts, not unlike the Vulcan mind-meld/link). Cochrane himself says he is fond of the Companion and does not wish to bring harm to it before he learns that the Companion is female and loves him beyond care and affection. Then his attitude changes entirely because he assumes he is no more than a pet or a toy rather than an equal to the Companion. Again, a separation of identity.

Cochrane may originally reject the Companion's love when she is an alien, but he immediately returns her affections after the Companion and Commissioner Nancy Hedford merge together as one to become a human. (Ah, the fickle nature of men. Companion-Ms. Hedford, are you sure you want him?) Of course, The Companion-Hedford gives Cochrane the option to leave regardless of her new form. She does choose to sacrifice both herself and her happiness for Cochrane in the end, living up to Kirk's initial words that "love sometimes expresses itself in sacrifice." Cochrane chooses to stay after finally getting what he had been wanting for 150 years--the chance to leave and explore space again--once he learns and realizes the extent of her sacrifice for him, and he decides that sharing what remains of their lives together on the same asteroid with added hardships is worth missing the possibilities of space and exploration. They are united both by sharing the same physical form, the same communication abilities, and the same desire for one another. Anything that could have been a point of separation is now gone.

Whereas Spock-Kollos' speech is an observation of how human beings are truly alone in the limitations of their bodies. In Is There In Truth No Beauty, Spock, after entering into a mind link (or mind meld as the series also calls it) with Ambassador Kollos, remarks on how lonely human existence is. It is a doubly poignant observation coming from the two united characters. Kollos is a Medusan, an alien that is essentially as formless as the Companion, and has been kept apart and separate within a box throughout the episode owing to the madness that arises if a human were to see him, so naturally this is a wonder to behold--to be accepted wholly and without restraint by another being and to be able to communicate by word, to actively create connection with others rather than wait for a select few to initiate any sort of communication. No wonder he did not wish to end the meld immediately. Yet Kollos recognizes how his form enables him to be able to achieve a deeper unity of being more than a human who is limited to the confines of the physical body.

To also have Spock as Kollos' mouthpiece if not himself saying these words*... Spock who has been described in terms of half throughout the series--half-Vulcan, half-human, separate parts, not ever a whole, not ever full--it only heightens the impact of these words. Just as he once remarked about no longer belonging in This Side of Paradise after Kirk broke through the spores' influence on him, these words also recall that sorrow of separation after experiencing the security and wholeness, the unity, of belonging that is achieved through the meld. This is not to say that Spock is not his own, complete person--he absolutely is--but by his very nature he is caught between worlds and identities and this in-between fuels his internal conflict. Yet his very existence paradoxically speaks to unity, both as a hybrid and as a Vulcan capable of performing mind links/melds.

Of course, this speech has its own target much as the previous speech, the telepathic yet blind Dr. Miranda Jones who has rejected the love of a fellow human for the solitude and peace offered by working with the Medusans, at least on the surface. In truth, she desires the same unity of a mind link with Kollos but has been unable to do so despite her studies on Vulcan. This conversation is Kollos' attempt to reach her, to name her loneliness for what it is and offer a way beyond it. Much like how Metamorphosis ends with Cochrane united with the Companion-Hedford, Is There In Truth No Beauty also ends with Kollos and Dr. Jones united in a mind link.

To bring this back to Spirk, perhaps the pattern to keep in mind is that unity is still possible despite the things that separate them, be they the principles or duties they live by or the differences in their biology. As sorrowful as this conversation may be, the mind link offers a way past separation as seen with Kollos and Dr. Jones. Love offers the way past separation as Kirk's own speech states: "You haven't the slightest knowledge of love, the total union of two people."

*As is implied by the nature of a mind link/meld. It is said to be the merging of two beings into one new being born of that unity. As they say, they are neither just Kollos nor just Spock as they once were before the meld.

[bestiesenpai]

Hocus Pocus - Sukuna

Boil toil and trouble, let's make this cauldron bubble lol gender neutral reader no content warnings! This is a...I guess medieval sort of au lol Sukuna is a knight and there’s kings and queens and blah blah

“(Y/N)!” Shrill voices rang throughout​​ the empty stone walls, the pattering of little feet causing you to break your concentration from the glass vase you were holding over a smoking cauldron. Turning to the heavy wooden doors as they were thrown open, you held the vase in the air as two children scampered into the room and began to tug on your clothes.

“What do I owe the pleasure of this visit?” Laughing breathlessly, you looked down at the royal children that had decided to come spend time with you.

“We want to play!”

“Right now?” Taking a sweeping look over your messy workshop, you felt them begin to try and pull you from the room. “Alright, alright! Just a moment.” There was no stopping the children when they wanted something, especially from you.

Closing your spell books and setting down bubbling beakers, you pushed the kids out of the room, closing the door tightly behind you. Letting them guide you towards their playroom, you took a deep breath, pushing down the slight irritation growing from being pulled away from your work. There’s no way the King and Queen would appreciate you losing your temper or simply saying ‘no’, even if you did have studying to do to become a proper witch and not a simple apprentice.

Walking through the halls of the castle, you shared pleasant smiles with the more senior witches talking amongst themselves. Their robes were the rich and vibrant colors of the kingdom, a stark contrast to your plain black robe and a strong reminder of how far you still needed to go.

Coming upon the playroom, you winced as they threw open the door and made the metal knob bang against the stone wall and shocking the other occupant in the room.

“Sukuna! Sukuna! We got (Y/N) to play too!” They yelled, finally letting go of your robes as they ran to the intrepid knight who looked ridiculously out of place sitting on a tiny chair surrounded by stuffed animals in the light pastel room. He turned to you and you had to bite your lip to keep from laughing at how annoyed he seemed with the whole thing. He was still in his armor, so you figured the children had pulled him away in the middle of his business as well.

“Oh how fun.” Sukuna said, clearly less than enthused about this whole thing. His pink hair was sticking out in all sorts of directions and he ran his hand through it once more, the clinking of his cold and shiny armor differing greatly with the softness that filled the room.

The children paid him no mind, rushing further into the room and grabbing toys and throwing them into the middle of the room. Talking animatedly amongst themselves, you used the opportunity to slowly walk over to Sukuna.

“So, what were you doing when they got you?” You whispered, taking a seat next to him in another tiny chair.

“Fucking training.” Nudging the sword at his side, Sukuna let out a gruff sound. “As you know, a war might be brewing in the East and-”

“There’s always a war brewing.”

“Exactly!” Throwing his hands in the air, Sukuna missed the way you chuckled softly. “I don’t have time to entertain these brats, I don’t even know why they had me join!”

“I don’t understand how your fellow knights let you get away from them.” Sukuna was one of the castle's best knights after all, having been praised countless times by the King himself and bestowed with many medals and honors.

“They thought it was a joke! Thought it was funny to see the brats pulling me away and I couldn’t say anything.” He scoffed with a roll of his eyes.

“Well, it is a little funny to think about. The Great Sukuna defeated and captured by two eight year olds.”

He rolled his eyes, but you could see the small upward curve of his lips even though he tried to hide it. You were pleased to notice him relaxing a bit, willing to converse with you as the kids ran around, completely forgetting the two of you were even there. Sukuna was usually so stiff around you, talking in short sentences and barely looking in your direction; always preoccupied with the thought of battle.

“(Y/N)! Caspian won’t let me play with this thing!”

“I had it first!” You turned to see them fighting over one of the vials from your room, recklessly pulling it back and forth and nudging the cork out of place. The shimmering purple liquid sloshed inside, threatening to drip out of the glass and splash all over the two of them. Jumping up, you ran over to the kids before they could open the bottle by mistake and cause a disaster.

“Caspian! Give that to me now!” You yelled after pulling them away from each other. The boy shook his head, holding it away from you. You groaned, taking a deep breath before kneeling to him, holding your hand out. “Caspain, please, it’s very important that I get that back.”

“Kid, just hand it over.” No longer having the patience to deal with this, Sukuna got up from his seat, taking long strides over to you. He grabbed the boy’s wrist as gently as he knew how, attempting to yank the vial out of his hand, but Caspain tightened his grip.

“No, it’s mine!” A small struggle ensued between the two with Caspian pushing and squirming to try and get away and Sukuna attempting to be as merciful as possible to try and get the vial.

“It’s not yours and you know it. Return it.” Sukuna was growing more annoyed by the second. He could easily overpower this kid and end this silly squabble but if he was too rough there were sure to be consequences.

“Be careful, don’t spill it!” Standing off to the side, your eyes were focused on the vial, anxiety rising every time it was yanked from one side to the other. Your cries went ignored, drowned out by them shouting at one another.

“Here!” Pulling the cork out, Caspian hurled the vial right at Sukuna’s face, coating him in the liquid. The glass clattered to the ground, quickly getting crushed into tiny shards as Sukuna stumbled in shock.

“What the-” Wiping furiously at his face, Sukuna could hardly open his eyes. The liquid evaporated on his skin, leaving behind a tingling burn.

“Caspian!” You exclaimed, glaring at the boy and running to Sukuna. The pungent odor of the potion burned your nostrils and forced tears to well in your eyes.

“What is this stuff?” Biting back the swear that desperately wanted to come out, Sukuna looked blindly around the room.

“It’s- well-”

“Out with it!” Sukuna barked, shoving you away. He felt like he was going to vomit, head swimming as he fell to his knees.

“Sukuna has kitty ears!” Caspian’s sister, Caroline, shouted in surprise.

“No I don’t!”

“Yes you do!” She pushed but it went unheard, overshadowed by the pained scream that ripped out of Sukuna’s chest. Writhing on the ground for what felt like ages, the pain slowly subsided and he was left breathing raggedly.

“Hello?” Opening his eyes, Sukuna was shrouded in darkness. Fabric covered his face and body; they were his clothes, he could smell that much, but he had no idea where he was.

“Sukuna? Are you okay?” Tiptoeing over to him, you nudged the armor now sitting on the ground in the shape of what used to be Sukuna’s body. Tiny claws tapped against the metal and a pink haired cat's head popped out of the top opening.

“(Y/N)?”

“Oh my god.” You placed a hand against your chest in shock, watching in horror as Sukuna wrestled himself out of his armor, angrily cursing his new height without really looking at himself.

“Kitty!” Caroline yelled, immediately crowding him and trying to pick him up. Keeping her at arm's length, you scooped up Sukuna’s new cat form into your arms and held him tightly to you.

“Kitty?!” Sukuna yelled, looking down at his body being cradled by you. “(Y/N), what the hell happened?!”

“Uhm, well it seems Caspian threw a metamorphosis potion at you...” Trailing off, you winced as Sukuna let out a growing hiss.

“Is that why I’m a fucking cat right now?” You nodded pitifully and he groaned. “Fucking brats.” Giving the two of them a look, Sukuna pushed himself up on shaky arms and crawled up onto your shoulder, digging his claws slightly into you as he settled around your neck. “The King and Queen will be furious to know what you’ve done.”

“(Y/N) can fix it!” Caroline shouted, trying to save them both from getting in trouble.

“Um, I guess I-”

“No, no they can’t.” Sukuna cut you off, sitting up a little straighter and letting a smug grin overtake his face. “You know (Y/N) is only an apprentice, do you really think they can fix this?” Letting a pause fall over the conversation, Sukuna tilted his head, his ears tickling your cheek. “You know how hard magic is to control, what if no one can turn me back to a human? Your parents will be enraged knowing they lost their best warrior to a pair of little brats.”

“Okay!” Slapping his hands over his ears, Caspian stomped his feet a few times. “We’ll fix it! What do we have to do?”

“There’s a list of ingredients I need to reverse this spell.” Pulling out the pen and pad of paper you were required to always have on hand, you scribbled down a few random items without thinking too hard about it. “Go get me these by the end of the day and we’ll have human Sukuna back in no time!”

“Let’s go!” Grabbing her brother's hand, Caroline ran from the room, ripping the paper from your grasp as she went. The door to the playroom banged against the wall again as they exited and left you and Sukuna alone.

“Well now that they’re occupied for a bit, go ahead and change me back, (Y/N).” Jumping onto the ground, Sukuna shook his head side to side and sat on the ground, his long tail swishing back and forth lazily.

“About that…” Wringing your hands together painfully tight, you could barely look at Sukuna.

“What?” His eyes narrowed, sensing your hesitation.

“I just, well I-”

“Out with it!” A loud hiss spurred you into speaking, along with Sukuna arching his back angrily.

“I can’t do it! That potion the kids took was a fluke to begin with, I’m surprised it even changed you into a cat and didn’t just burn your eyebrows off!” God it felt embarrassing admitting that Sukuna had essentially been right when he was calling the kids bluff. There wasn’t much more you could do on your own other than light a candle with your mind and make paperclips levitate.

“Okay, it’s not that bad. We can get one of your seniors to do it.” Starting toward the door, Sukuna let out a shriek when you scooped him up.

“No, we can’t do that! They’ll never let me live it down!” Holding him tightly, you felt his claws dig into your arms and hands. “L-let me figure it out, please!”

“You just said you couldn’t do it, why would I let you ‘figure it out’ when I can get changed back within a few minutes?”

“Please, just let me try! I have to prove myself!”

“Is this really the time for that? There’s a war-”

“Sukuna, there’s always a war! That’s all you ever talk about!” Yanking his claws out of the skin of your arm, you huffed and tried to calm the burning of your cheeks. “Just give me until the end of the day, please? I can fix you by the end of the day.”

Breathing heavily as well, Sukuna raked his eyes over you. There wasn’t much he knew about you other than you were another fledging witch scouted by the kingdom and that this was the most you’d ever spoken to each other directly and not in a group setting. It wasn’t just Sukuna who was stiff in conversations, it was you as well.

“Fine.” Worming his way out of your hold and back onto the ground, Sukuna swiped at his face a few times to fix the fur around his eyes. “If I’m not a human by nightfall, I’m going to your mentor.”

“Deal.” Nodding your head in agreement, you gestured toward the door. “Shall we go back to my study?”

“Lead the way.” Falling into step next to you, Sukuna walked down the halls to a part of the castle he never really visited. While he was marveling at some of the magic happening behind doorways, you were worrying your lip and praying with every step you took that you could actually find a way to turn him back.

“Nice little shop you got here.” Sukuna commented upon coming to your study. Truly it was nothing more than a glorified broom closet, just enough space for a bookshelf, cauldron, a few shelves and a tiny desk shoved in the corner piled high with a mountain of notes you’d scribbled down late at night.

“Thanks.” Your room looked like all the other beginner witch's rooms, but it felt nice for Sukuna to compliment it all the same. Clearing off a space on the small table beside your cauldron for Sukuna to sit on, you went to the bookshelf to try and find a spell to turn him back.

Taking sneaking glances at you, Sukuna went up to the edge of the cauldron, sniffing the vapors that rose from the bubbling liquid. Curling his lip in disgust at the pungent odor, he hopped off the table. Too engrossed in your books, you set down​​ a few on the spot he’d previously been occupying.

“(Y/N), what’re these papers on your desk?” Glancing over, Sukuna had leapt onto the furniture, gently swiping his paw at some papers and making them slide from the messy stack they were in.

“Just some notes from my lessons, I have a test coming up in a potions class and I really can’t afford to fail.” Shaking your head bitterly at the upcoming deadline, you turned your attention back to the book in your hand.

Glancing over a few, Sukuna found that you were correct, there were scribbles on pages and in the margins of textbooks cramming all possible information into them.

“What’s this…?” Catching the first few letters of his name on a paper that was crinkled up and folded several times, Sukuna felt his curiosity grow greater and greater.

Struggling to open it with his new appendages, Sukuna eventually got it open. At first, he wasn’t sure where to look, there were love hearts dotting nearly every letter and a hundred exclamation points. As he read and deciphered the words on the page, he started to laugh to himself. The person who you’d been passing notes to was gushing about another knight named Okkotsu and his kind demeanor all while teasing you for liking none other than Sukuna.

“So (Y/N), you have a crush on me?” He asked loudly, just barely catching the slightest hesitation in your body at his question.

“What’re you talking about?” Fighting to keep your face neutral, you sprinkled a blue powder into the cauldron.

“This note here says you’ve had a crush on me since you arrived at the palace and I’m pretty confident this is your handwriting.” Sukuna could practically see your heart begin to race the longer he spoke and a grin overtook his face.

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Nervously clearing your throat, you shook your head and closed the book in your hand. Taking a glance at him, your face fell slightly at seeing his paw holding the note open.

“Really? No clue at all? Maybe I should read it out loud and jog your memory.” If Sukuna’s smile got any bigger it would rip his cheeks apart. “Now where should I begin? How about this line, ‘Sukuna is so sexy when he does training in the evening! I love that he never wears a shirt, you can see all his tattoos!’”

“Shut up!” Throwing the remaining objects in your hand onto the table, you lunged towards him and the note. Cackling with laughter, Sukuna snatched the paper into his mouth and leaped off the desk, running circles around you in the room.

“I’m so sexy, you want me to kiss you!” He teased you mercilessly as you chased after him, reciting every embarrassing word you wrote. “You love my morning voice when I pass by you at breakfast!”

“Sukuna! Stop it!” Your entire body was on fire the longer he went and frustrated tears welled in your eyes. It was bad enough you had a crush on the most popular knight in the kingdom but to have him know about it so deeply was another blow to your ego entirely. Grabbing your wand out of a robe pocket, you let out a small shout and pointed it at him, hoping that was enough to get him to stop.

And surprisingly it was; Sukuna suddenly froze all movement, hanging in the air above the cauldron that he was trying to leap over. Stomping over to him, you ripped the note out of his mouth and tore it to shreds, letting the pieces flutter to the ground at your feet. Glaring at Sukuna with glassy eyes, you mumbled a short incantation and released him from the spell, making him plop into the cauldron below.

Sukuna let out incomprehensible screams of terror as he splashed around in the cauldron, struggling to grab any sort of footing on the side and pull himself out.

“(Y/N)! G-get me out of here!” Coughing at the liquid entering his mouth, Sukuna hooked an arm around the edge of the cauldron and tried to pull himself up only to be burned by the hot metal.

“I’ll think about it!” Crossing your arms, you kept your back turned to him. His mocking words rang in your head over and over, nearly drowning out his frantic cries. Quickly growing tired of the noise, you grabbed him by the back of the neck and yanked him from the cauldron, letting him fall to the ground in a sopping wet mess of fur.

“Took you long enough!” Sukuna sputtered, shaking himself violently to try and dry off. Unable to fully look at him, you slammed open the book you’d had open before and leaned over it, blocking out the world around you and forcing the words on the page into your head.

“(Y/N), do you have a towel around here?” Your head nearly turned on instinct to answer Sukunas question, a small twitch in your neck almost giving way to a full turn. “Oh c’mon, don’t ignore me.” His paw swiped the back of your leg and you shook him off.

“(Y/N), stop being a baby.” Touching you again, Sukuna grunted and rolled his eyes when you fully stepped away from him. “(Y/N)! I’m freezing down here with this wet fur, quit fucking around.”

“Find one yourself.” You snapped at him, storming over to your desk and plopping down on the chair. Out of the corner of your eye you could see Sukuna weighing his options, looking between you and the door behind him. You could almost see the gears turning in his head as he debated on what to say.

“If I apologize, will that make you feel better?” He asked, earning a snort from you and making a smirk pass briefly on his face. “The Great Sukuna doesn’t apologize often, so listen closely, okay?”

“I won’t hold my breath.” Rolling your eyes, you relaxed the tight crease in your brow and let your back straighten up a little, no longer hunching over the desk. Clearing his throat dramatically, Sukuna padded over with wet paws and stopped before your chair.

“I’m sorry I teased you about having a crush on me, but in my defense who wouldn’t be hopelessly in love with me?”

“Is that really your apology?” Biting your lip to stop a burgeoning smile, you forced your eyes back on your paper.

“What do you want me to say? Oh (Y/N), please forgive me for learning about your everlasting love for me, I’ll conquer a hundred enemy fortresses if that’s what it’ll take!” Swaying side to side dramatically, Sukuna laughed as he made a chuckle force it’s way past your lips.

“Fine, I guess I’ll forgive you.” Rolling your eyes once more, you did a quick wave of your hand and a sharp gust of wind went over Sukuna, drying his fur in an instant.

“Just like new.” Walking in a few circles, Sukuna surveyed his body and without warning, jumped into your lap, making space for himself and looking over the book you were reading.

“Make yourself comfortable.” Adjusting in your chair, you had to move Sukunas bobbing head out of the way several times to continue to read. “Sukuna, do you even know how to read this?” The book was written in strange symbols only able to be read and understood by those imbued magical prowess.

“No, but it’s pretty interesting to look at.” Shrugging his shoulder, he let his chin rest on the edge of the pages. Quietly reading over the book, you had to shuffle Sukuna in your lap a few times, adjusting him over and over again until you were practically cradling him with one arm and turning pages with the other.

“I could get used to this.” Sukuna yawned loudly, a purr rumbling from his chest. You didn’t have the heart to tell him that his heavy, muscular feline form had made your arm fall asleep and become completely dead to the world.

A few minutes later and a soft snoring filtered out of Sukuna, a gentle sound to fill the room bathed in warm afternoon sun. The tiny window above your desk showed a sliver of the outside world, overgrown trees skirting the edge of the window pane and attempting to obstruct your view of distant mountain ranges.

Forcing deep breaths through your nose, you couldn’t stave off the drowsiness creeping into your body as well. Every blink made your eyelids heavier and the words on the page began to blur together until you couldn’t fight sleep anymore and let your head lean against the chair, joining Sukuna in a light afternoon nap.

It was you that woke up first, thirty minutes later and with a foggy mind. Surprisingly, Sukuna hadn’t woken up from the sound of a door slamming closed across the hall, still sleeping soundly as ever in your arms.

Looking over him, you noticed the markings across his face and body, tattoos that carried over from his human form. Tracing your finger along his face, you were enraptured by the soft fur that met your touch and continued along his body. Fully petting the length of Sukuna’s body, you prodded his soft, relaxed stomach and scratched gently with the tip of your nail.

“That feels nice.” He mumbled, barely awake and cuddling deeper into your side. Despite feeling embarrassed at being caught you kept going, expanding upwards and rubbing along his ribs and chest.

“Sukuna you’re so cute as a cat, are you sure you want to change back?”

“As much as I love being pet like this, I have a duty to my kingdom.” Stretching his legs out, Sukuna grunted like he was going to get up but gave up halfway, flopping back and letting out a soft sigh.

“You don’t seem to be in any rush to get back.” You chuckled, scratching behind his ears and smiling widely when he began to purr.

“Well…” Pushing his head against your hand, Sukuna shrugged. “They’ll be fine without me for a little bit.”

There was a pregnant pause before he spoke again,  filled with his loud purring and soft breathing. “You know, I haven’t slept this well in ages. Always too busy with training or going to battle.” Blinking his eyes slowly, Sukuna peered up at you. “Maybe I should become a witch like you, (Y/N), then I could relax like this all the time.”

“You’re kidding; me, relax? I’m constantly on edge, there’s so much pressure to break my back for the kingdom and become the strongest sorcerer.” Slumping against the chair, your head lolled back and you stared at the dark stone ceiling. “I’d love to trade places with you Sukuna, I want to know what it’s like to be so strong and confident all the time.”

“It’s pretty great, I won’t lie.” He mumbled under his breath and you laughed, jostling him around as you straightened up your spine.

“You’ll have to teach me sometime, okay?” Standing up and opening your arms, you haphazardly placed Sukuna on the desk and walked over to the cauldron, cracking the bones in your back and looking over the ingredients you’d put in so far. “Now, let’s turn you back into a human.”

“(Y/N).” Sukuna said your name slowly, hopping from the desk to the table by the cauldron and slinking past forgotten vials to settle close at your side. “Mind if I watch?”

“Why?” It wasn’t that you didn’t want him to but unless Sukuna was suddenly granted the gift of magic the recipe you were following would be of no use to him.

“I want to know what it’s like to be the smartest in the room.” Sukuna grinned at you, bumping his nose against your arm a few times.

“Shut up.” A light flush went over your face and warmed your cheeks, and a slightly impish smile pushed your cheeks up. The compliment warmed your heart just as much, making it beat faster in your chest.

“Shut up and take notes? Got it.” Nodding curtly, Sukuna squinted his eyes and stared intensely at your hands. Laughing wholeheartedly at how serious he looked, you did a dramatic wave of your hand and picked up a spellbook.

“Alright, watch and learn.”

Whether or not Sukuna was actually learning anything or truly paying attention was lost on you, but it was certainly fun having him so focused on you and your actions. Humming and nodding like he understood when you mumbled to yourself, Sukuna was acting just like you had when you first arrived at the palace with bright eyes and an eager mind.

“Try this.” Pouring a mixture into a jar, you tilted it back for Sukuna to drink from.

“Fucking disgusting!” Wrenching himself away, Sukuna spit the bright yellow liquid onto the ground and watched it sizzle. “Are you trying to poison me now?”

“Wha- but I was so sure that was the right one!” Scrapping the jar, you returned to the book. “Maybe I need spider legs after all…”

“You need me to go out into the garden and catch you some?” Still reeling from the rancid taste in his mouth, Sukuna glanced out the window. The light in the sky was beginning to wind down, it was almost dinner time and his stomach was starting to growl.

“No, I-”

“(Y/N)!” An all too familiar voice shouted your name and you got flashbacks to just a few hours before when your door was slammed open and two children ran inside.

“Oh great, the royal brats.” Snarling at the kids, Sukuna leapt up and onto your shoulder, curling himself around your neck and burrowing into the collar of your robes. Flinching away from him, Caroline and Caspian hesitantly showed you what was clenched tightly in their small hands.

“We got all the stuff on the list!” Caroline showed hers first, a handful of daisies and a small chunk of amethyst.

“Caroline was too much of a baby to get the other stuff.” Caspian huffed, extending his palm out and showcasing the dead spiders and newt eyeballs.

“I can’t believe it, you two actually listened for once.” You marveled at the ingredients, quickly snatching them up and sorting them out on the table.

“Took you long enough.” Sukuna huffed. “Now go get my clothes from that stupid playroom!”

“Okay!” And away the two of them went, rushing down the hall with echoing footsteps. Flipping pages in a book you’d cast aside, you read it over and put in all the ingredients they had brought.

“This spell really is the one to turn you back to a human. God, I feel like an idiot, the answer was right in front of me!” Kicking yourself internally, you looked at your stash of ingredients; you had all the things the kids had brought you already at your disposal.

Right as Sukuna was about to speak, his clattering armor and underclothes made an appearance in the room, clattering to the ground as the kids struggled to carry it all inside. Laying out his clothes for him, you poured the new potion into a glass.

“Turn around children, I don’t want you to see something you shouldn’t.” With a chorus of giggles behind you, you even covered your eyes as you held the glass to Sukuna’s lips. “Try and jump onto the ground after you drink it all, I don’t want you breaking the table.”

“Got it.” Sukuna was better prepared for the transformation this time, swallowing all of the potion and gritting his teeth at the discomfort coursing through him. When you felt the glass was empty, you turned around to give him privacy.

Holding your breath and crossing your fingers, every fiber of your being was hoping and praying that Sukuna returned to normal. You heard clothing rustle and armor clanking, but you didn’t open your eyes until a heavy human hand landed on your shoulder.

“I’m back!” Sukuna cheered, flexing the muscles in his body and tightening the various straps on his clothing. He’d forgon putting his armor back on, opting to wear just the loose green tunic and pants that he had on underneath.

“We did it!” The children cheered as well, clapping and smiling.

“You two were the whole cause of this mess! You should be cheering for (Y/N) for saving you from a punishment.”

“Thanks (Y/N)!”

“Yeah, you’re the best!” Giving you brief and crushing hugs, the two youths ran from the room, probably off to find other mischief to get into. Letting out a relieved sigh, you began to clean up the table.

“Nice work, (Y/N).” Patting you on the back, Sukuna attempted to help you by gathering all the empty vials.

“It would have been better if I’d just checked that book to begin with. I thought I wrote down those ingredients for them at random, but turns out the answer was so glaringly obvious that of course I missed it.” While it felt good to turn Sukuna back into a human, the knowledge that this could have been done a lot sooner weighed heavily on your mind.

“Don’t beat yourself up about it.” Returning his hand to your back, Sukuna let it rest a bit heavier. “You’re still learning, you’re bound to mess up here and there. But hey, you turned me back in the end!” Smiling at you, Sukuna gave you a half hug, not caring if he crushed you against his chiseled physique.

“Sukuna, that was so nice of you to say, thank you.” Hugging him back, your heart felt like it was going to burst.

“You think so? I’ve been practicing ever since my commanders told me to be softer to the new recruits and give them words of encouragement.”

“Well it’s certainly paid off.” The heat from his body transferred onto yours, making it obvious when you pulled away from each other that your whole body was slowly being set on fire from the sweet words melting your brain.

Cleaning up was quick with Sukuna’s help and before you knew it your workspace was just as messy as before all of this had happened and there was the familiar chatter of other witches walking down the halls towards dinner.

“I guess I’ll see you around.” It was bittersweet knowing Sukuna was leaving to the same place you were but going to sit at completely different places, on opposite sides of the dining hall. You desperately wanted to ask to eat with him, to extend the moment you two were having, but your social rank prevented you from being the one to make the first move.

“What do you mean? Aren’t you going to eat dinner?” Grabbing the door, Sukuna slowly pulled it open, ignoring the shocked looks from passersby as he started to make his exit.

“I am but-”

“Then c’mon, let's go.” With half his body already out the door, Sukuna paused when he saw you weren’t making any move. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, go on without me.”

“I want to go with you.” Quirking a brow, Sukuna swayed on his feet for another moment before getting fed up with waiting and grabbing onto your sleeve, yanking you from your room and into the hall.

All eyes were on you and you knew there would be a lot of questions hurled your way sooner or later about what was going on with the two of you. Someone as high ranking as Sukuna wasn’t seen with new recruits, especially not coming out of their workspaces.

“Now let’s go, I’m fucking starving.” Sliding a hand up to the collar of your robes, Sukuna held a fistful in his hand and made you walk with him down the hall.

“Sukuna, you don’t have to be friendly with me anymore, I already held my end of the deal.”

“Why should I stop? I liked hanging out with you, (Y/N). Unless you don’t want to hang out with me anymore.” His grip softened a little and you grasped his wrist.

“No, I do! I-I really do! It’s just, you’re such a high rank and-”

“So what?”

“So, it’s not really heard of for us to mingle!”

“What’re you talking about, I mingle with witches all the time!”

“Yeah but they’re more senior than I am.” Letting out a sharp grunt, Sukuna stopped abruptly and turned you to face him.

“Fine. (Y/N), as your superior I order you to have dinner with me. Happy now?” Without waiting for an answer, Sukuna began to walk again. “And if you give me any more shit, I’ll make you run up a hundred mountains when I train you.”

“You want to train me?” Sure, witches received some physical training but a majority of your learning was focused on magic.

“I think it’s only fair since I learned a bit of magic today.” Getting into the line to enter the dining hall, Sukuna finally released your collar.

“I’d like to learn from you.” Giving him a bashful smile, you were mentally clearing your schedule in preparation for the day.

“You might fall even more in love with me, I can’t wait to read the notes you pass around about me afterwards.”

“God, you’ll never let me live that down will you?” Slapping your hands over your face, you felt the urge to bang your head against the wall.

“Never.” Laughing at your misfortune, Sukuna nudged you forward and into the dining hall. “Now go get some food, I’ll save my biggest fan a seat next to me at my usual table.” Leaving you all alone and dying of embarrassment, Sukuna walked to a group of other knights, his loud and boisterous voice easily carrying over the others in the room.

Gathering all the pieces of your dinner, you looked out at the massive dining hall, crammed with knights, witches and other civil servants just trying to make it. Scanning over the tables, you could see gaggles of knights but not the one you wanted to see.

“(Y/N)!” Just as you’d given up searching and turned away, Sukuna yelled your name, somehow cutting through all the noise. Looking over your shoulder you saw Sukuna standing on a table and waving at you once you made eye contact. The seat next to him was completely empty, a space big enough for you to sit and eat at.

“C-coming!” You yelled back, unsure if he even heard you until you received a big thumbs up and Sukuna jumped off the table. With scalding cheeks, you gripped your plate tighter and rushed over to the table, eager to spend more time with your new friend.

[fellowstrangetownappreciator]

The Strange Case of The Strangetown Metamorphosis

There is a mysterious Sim that appears in Strangetown.

That's like saying "there is a fish that appears in the ocean", I know, so I'll be a little more specific.

They are an adult whose memories show inconsistencies with those of their family members. Something is missing!

Alright. That's also not saying much, that's like half of the premades in vanilla, non-clean hoods.

They are immediately recognizable by their appearance and, dare I say it, have distinguishing features unique to them.

Well, that also kinda fits everyone...

They feature in more than one installment of the series.

Again, not that helpful. I mean, almost everybody from the base game hoods is (for better or worse) represented in TS3 or TS4.

They appear in TS2 for PSP!

Hmm...

They are a member of a wealthy family connected to science and paranormal.

And...

They are somehow connected to (possible) cloning.

I imagine that now you’re probably rolling your eyes and asking: Why didn’t I just simply say I was going to talk about Bella Goth?

Because... I’m not!

It’s Loki Beaker. In this mini-essay I’m going to speak about Loki, what is the mystery around him, what hints are there and what are some of the theories and which one do I fancy.

It’s basically a routine round of the popular game “connect EAxis’ oversights and glue them together into a headcanon”.

So without further ado, let me introduce you to:

The Mystery of Loki Beaker!

0: Preface: Loki who?

“As soon as he perfects his latest invention, Loki is sure to get the recognition he knows he deserves. In the meantime, he keeps himself busy by trying to assemble a nuclear reactor out of common household items.”

On the first glance, Loki as a Sim seems quite straightforward. He is a Knowledge Sim with a very eccentric personality. All his trait points are in the extremes, as you can see:

He is a scientist, a competent one at that, as proven by his high career level and the fun fact that some of the game’s horrible machinery you can buy for Aspiration points is attributed to his creation.

(It explains why are the Beakers the only ones who have the stuff lying around by default. It is normal for a Strangetown family to own a non-buyable reward object or two but those are career rewards, the Beakers are the only one who canonically own Aspiration points rewards.)

Even though he knows his stuff when it comes to his profession, he is very corrupt and tests his questionable projects on his captive, Nervous Subject.

To say that Loki is unpopular would be an understatement. No one but his wife Circe likes Loki, even his own sister is indifferent towards him. Yes, he has a sister. Her name is Erin and she also lives in Strangetown with a colorful collection of roommates.

Nothing mysterious about him so far. (apart from his eyebrows)

1: Characterization fallen apart

And then The Sims 3 happened. It was actually quite late into the game’s life cycle, the early 2013, when a beautiful nordic-themed world was released on TS3 Store. Its name was Aurora Skies and it featured Loki, Erin and their parents.

TS3 Loki is a child and Erin is a toddler.

Now I haven’t actually played Aurora Skies. I own (and love) TS3 but the price range for the Store worlds is too high for me, content-to-money wise. So there might be some hidden clues about the Beakers in their house or relationship panels that I haven’t been able to inspect but... not to sound cynical but I doubt it. I doubt such attention was given to detail of this family in Aurora Skies, as they don’t even have individual bios.

But... that is... fine? I mean, we have Loki’s TS2 bio...

Nope. Sure we do. And it would be fine if hair color and ambitions weren’t the only thing Loki and his younger self (from now on referred to as smol Loki) had in common.

Let’s take a look on smol Loki’s personality.

The first noticeable thing is that there is not a trace of Loki’s trademark villainy. He’s not Mean Spirited, he’s not Evil, he’s not even a No Sense of Humor Sim. His extreme neatness and hyperactivity are nowhere to be seen either. While it is true that TS3′s capabilities of defining personality are very limited as it picks “outstanding points” rather than a position of each trait on a scale, and it only has 5 slots (and tiny teeny 3 for children), it doesn’t make any sense still for the devs not to pick some more loki-esque traits for the precious slots they had.

Unless...

They didn’t care about Loki’s personality and there were no deeper intentions.

Unless the devs were trying to purposefully show us new angles of his character that either got suppressed while he was growing up, or manifest in ways that TS2′s scale system wasn’t able to show.

Could the Lucky trait in particular have had something to do with the change?

(Also, those traits of smol Loki are reason why I usually go for a Family Secondary Loki in TS2 and thus make Strangetown the purgatory of two unstable blonde Knowledge/Family sciency guys.)

We also must not omit that even though smol Loki didn’t display any of them, he still had all of Loki’s signature traits in him, as Loki in TS2 has his actual personality synced with the genetic one, meaning that there was something in there that caused him not to act so mean that got lost as he grew up. In other words, something brought up the worst in him.

And that’s not all. Smol Loki is not a regular TS3 child. You see, in TS3, premade children aren’t particularly known for being highly skilled experts. Neither are in TS2, for that matter, and it’s okay. It’s realistic.

Smol Loki has a skill maxed.

It is very rare for a premade regardless of age to already start with a maxed skill and I personally don’t know of any other premade children that do.

And it’s writing.

What does writing have to do with Loki? Does Loki write? Probably he has to, those academic papers aren’t gonna spawn out of thin air, but that’s not what the writing skill in TS3 (or the hidden writing skill in TS2) are about. They’re about creative writing only.

Ok, ok. How high is Loki’s Creativity skill, then? In TS2, skills are much broader, they more resemble skillsets than individual skills, and writing categorizes under Creativity. Bring out the skill panel!

Two. He has 2 points in Creativity. That is... low. That is actually very low, especially for a Sim that has supposedly been writing for fun since childhood. (and was a prodigy, while we’re at it) It is safe to say, I think, that if the player doesn’t make him do it, Loki doesn’t write anymore and he hasn’t been doing that for a long, long time.

While I would cynically admit that the dissonance in personalities might be just the lack of damns given from EAxis’ side, this seems to me too on the nose to be unintentional.

They would have no reason to bring the Beakers back without the “evil scientists” thing in mind. I mean, that’s what they’re iconic for. That’s what they’re recognizable by. (apart from their eyebrows)

So the person who was in charge of creating smol Loki probably knew they were recreating “Loki the mad scientist”.

So when they were picking the skill they use to demonstrate that this kid is gonna go far, they thought... “evil scientist = writing”...?

I would understand going for Creativity in general. I mean, Loki’s an inventor. That comes with the territory. But creativity as such isn’t really a skill in TS3. It’s divided to different activities.

Wouldn’t it make more sense just in general to pick logic, then? I mean, Loki isn’t that extremely logical by default but it is his second strongest skill and a feature unmistakably connected to being a scientist.

That’s what leads me to believe that writing plays a role in the story and it was chosen on purpose.

So how did a sweet little family-oriented boy talented with words transform into the ruthless catboy inventor we know and love?

And that, my friends, is the mystery of Loki Beaker.

2: A closer look at our environmentalist friends, the Beakers

If we want to get the full picture and come to a satisfying conclusion of some sorts, we need to inspect smol Loki’s surroundings. Maybe there is a clue to the continuous force or a traumatic event that shifted smol Loki’s direction in life?

Loki’s and Erin’s parents are named Gundrun and Bjorn. Even though their age would still allow it, they’re not present at the start of TS2′s Strangetown play, they’re long dead. Bjorn died before Erin became an adult and Gundrun died shortly before her son’s engagement to Circe. Because they died by the time Loki had (presumably) already long enrolled in his current life-path, we can safely rule out any tragic early death of parental figures scenario as a possible answer.

Gundrun is the only Beaker that canonically also writes. She has 5 points in the writing skill. She also shares some traits with Loki, namely the smarts and ambition.

But she has little to do with science and is way more business-oriented which is a trait she shares with Circe’s ancestors, for example her father. Maybe the families knew each other from business ventures even before they moved to Strangetown? It is stated in their memories that Loki and Circe first met when they were children. But I digress!

Anyway, I don’t see anything in Gundrun that would suggest any abusive behavior towards her son that might have triggered his drastic change. Possibly but not necessarily she might’ve been a bit absent but nothing out of ordinary.

And now the father, Bjorn.

Bjorn is the sciency half of the couple and works as an Aquatic Ecosystem Tweaker. Again, he has zero traits that would raise any red flags and he shares 4 out of 5 traits with either smol Loki or Loki. (I don’t know if Loki is a “natural cook” but he cooks quite well, so I think that counts.)

What’s interesting about Bjorn, though, is his speech that serves as a flavor text for the Aurora Skies store page.

(Image transcript: “Do it for science! Science is everywhere around us, but at Aurora Skies it’s not just something you learn; it’s something you do!  We need bright young minds to make the dreams of the future a reality. Even now we’re finding more uses for garbage to help the planet. Charging batteries, powering machines - the sky is the limit. Just this last year we created a modified Hot Air Baloon using garbage as fuel and turning it into pure air with a pine breeze scent.  Now you can have efficient travel and an amazing romantic adventure with no cost to the ozone (or your nose)! Every year we’re creating more and more exciting things in the world of science. Garbage-powered hearts, heart-powered cars, solar-powered cats; what will you think of next!  It’s all up to you. Do it for Science! Did you know? Hot Air Balloons are an epic form of travel based around the simple principle that hot air is lighter than cold air.  They lift in the air based on the heat system in the balloon. Increasing the temperature of the air inside the balloon makes it lighter than the air outside and the balloon begins to float.  More air is required to lift heavier things; that’s why the balloons have to be so huge! How cool (or hot!) is that?”)

From this piece of text we can see Bjorn’s passion and dedication to “green” science. Nothing in his traits suggests he fakes it, so I think it’s safe to believe that this peppy idealist is a glimpse into Loki’s father’s genuine self.

He might have encouraged his children to follow in his footsteps (”We need bright young minds to make the dreams of the future a reality.“) and smol Loki, who later in life seemed to have similar levels of enthusiasm (science is his One True Hobby), might have been receptive to that.

Now just close your eyes for a second and imagine an alternate reality in which Loki picked up where Bjorn left and instead of a energy-refilling machine that electrocutes you if you’re not happy enough, he invented “solar-powered cats”.

Still no hints on what could’ve messed Loki up, though.

Let’s take a look at the parents in TS2. Even though they’re not present and aren’t even resurrectable, they’re still coded in the game for purposes of genetics, memories and family trees, so some of their characteristics are salvageable.

And by the Watcher, they were both Romance Sims.

They were workaholic Romance Sims who cared about the environment and liked recycling (and Hot Baloons).

And they were both extremely Nice and very Sloppy, if their personalities on wiki are something to go by. Which they unfortunately aren’t, at least not completely because most ancestors don’t simply have “their own” personalities and use presets instead, so they tend to be quite similar.

The same goes for most of the Beaker clan, unfortunately. Fun fact is that there is no Knowledge Sim in sight (before Loki, of course). Maybe they weren’t a scientist family, but a bunch of Romance Sims who used to spend their free time in between woohoos saving the planet with eco-science. (3 out of 6 of Loki’s and Erin’s ancestors were Romance Sims, 2 were Fortune and 1 was Family)

But! There is one outlier. Her name is Gertrude Beaker. She is Loki’s paternal grandmother.

And similarly to her grandson, she certainly has a personality to remember.

She doesn’t use a preset, this is a personality that someone went and manually assigned (...or generated) for her. And she is Neat, Outgoing and doesn’t have a nice bone in her body. But unlike Loki, she has a sense of humor (which makes her even more dangerous, in my opinion) and is extremely Lazy.

She is a Fortune Sim and the only Beaker who shares the darker sides of Loki’s personality. (to be clear, I don’t mean their taste for cleaning but the round 0 of Nice points)

Because she doesn’t feature in TS3 at all, it is safe to say that she wasn’t in her grandchildren’s lives until the family moved to Strangetown. Could she be the corrupting influence on smol Loki?

As far as personality comparison goes, she seems to be the only possible culprit, the only one who’s personality shares the same unpleasant qualities he became infamous for. But! That’s not saying much. There is no evidence she actually did anything.

There’s not even any evidence that she ever met her grandson, given he has no memory of her dying which means she might have died before he was even born. That would be a solid evidence on the contrary and would rule her out. But I’m leaving some maneuvering space for theories here because she is the only Beaker ancestor with custom personality, after all, and that is suspicious.

That’s all the Beakers we know of if not counting Atom and Ceres, who came after Loki, so they’re not relevant to the question of his childhood. Or... are they?

3: And that’s when the trouble began

Another part of this question that might help us discern what happened to Loki is the when. All we know so far is that there is a big void of unknown between smol Loki and regular Loki and the point of transformation happened in there somewhere.

Thankfully, we have something to give us an idea. It’s this snapshot in storytelling pictures for the Beakers:

It shows smol Loki destroying a dollhouse. It seems to be in an impersonal environment of some sorts. The cheapest bed in the game is against a bare white wall, the window is hid behind blue curtains and there doesn’t really seem to be anything else but the dollhouse, a teddy bear in the background and that... very unpleasant bed.

It clearly tells us that Loki’s shift started in his pre-teen years.

And seeing that room which is definitely not in the Beaker Castle at 1 Tesla Court, it makes me think of a hotel or a cheap apartment the family was staying in while moving from Aurora Skies to Strangetown. Maybe the castle-like something the household inhabits at the start of the game wasn’t a property of the Beakers at all, maybe that was where the Salamises used to live and now it belongs to Circe?

Anyway, could it had been leaving Aurora Skies that sent smol Loki down an existential crisis and settling in the not exactly welcoming environment of Strangetown, enrolling in a local school, that sealed it?

But why all the stuff with writing? This would work with any other hobby but somehow it had to be writing and it’s our task to find out why.

4: Not your average tragedy

Now in our search we already have some ideas but it wouldn’t be thorough if we didn’t take into account smol Loki’s actual personality. I mean, we went into what traits he doesn’t have but what about those he has?

Namely Lucky and Family-Oriented.

I think Lucky is a very interesting choice. There’s nothing inherent about Loki Beaker that would make you go “that’s one lucky guy!” (if you don’t count his relationship with Circe as a stroke of luck, that is) and the same goes for smol Loki.

But... it could be a clue. His metamorphosis either couldn’t be triggered by trauma because he’s lucky and it would avoid him, or it must’ve been something tremendously horrid so he’s lucky he’s still alive.

Now we know we are searching for something that happened in his late childhood, verging on the start of his teenage years. His family was going through the turmoil of moving to a desert and he has already known his future partner Circe. Meanwhile Erin-

Oh, wait. Erin.

Smol Loki was Family-Oriented which implies he would probably have a good relationship with his little sister, as he would’ve naturally inclined to protect her and help his parents take care of her. But!

Not only do they have an amicable but distant relationship as adults but Erin seems to forget that Loki even existed in her childhood.

He has the usual set of memories of a sibling growing up well but she doesn’t, she has no Loki-related memories at all, not even of his marriage, which was a quite recent event.

Could the reason for Loki’s “downfall” be somehow related to his sister? Was there a dramatic event in which she lost a part of her memory?

5: Theories!

Ok, we’re finally here! Now I try to present some theories about what might’ve happened.

1. Burdens of the golden child

In Aurora Skies, Loki used to be the little wonder every relative was gushing about. With his father as an acclaimed scientist and a very liked person in general, there was little to no adversity his son had to face. He followed his passion and having nobody to really compare himself to, nor anybody who would terrorize him, he prospered.

But then the Beakers moved. Strangetown was... different. It was way smaller than Aurora Skies, so everybody inherently knew everybody and everybody had to interact with everybody... because the small space of a desert community didn’t leave them with any choice. And it was bleak and unfriendly. No one except for the Salamises knew the Beakers, so they found themselves under scrutiny from their new neighbors.

So Loki, who used to live thinking he was unique, was now sitting everyday in a much smaller classroom with Pascal and Vidcund Curious, whom he was immediately being compared to. But he wasn’t like the Curiouses. He was a kid of a scientist but wasn’t a science kid. He didn’t have much in common with Pascal who approached him and tried to befriend him at first but he wanted to. In Strangetown, nothing seemed to be cooler than being really, really into science. Pascal’s and Loki’s communication attempts were rather poor, though, and in the end, they never made friends. Loki slowly began to disdain the oldest Curious boy and it culminated a few years later in high school when Pascal made an attempt to woo Circe. It was even worse with Vidcund. Ever since Loki’s first day at the new school, Vidcund had been eyeing him with a disgusted look and Loki became quick to reciprocate.

In Strangetown, nothing seemed to be cooler than being really, really into science. Even Circe was on it! She was the only person his age he has know in Strangetown before his family moved in and he liked her. Not “like” liked her, yuck! But he thought she was cool. Her family used to visit the Beakers in Aurora Skies and they played together. She was a friend! Or so Loki thought. She seemed to like hanging out with the Curiouses much more.

In Strangetown, nothing seemed to be cooler than being really, really into science, yes. But not in the eyes of Buzz Grunt, the son of a general who lived in Strangetown. Their family were the self-proclaimed protectors of the hood but at the same time they weren’t shy to show a strong distaste for all that made Strangetown an important desert settlement in the first place. And little Buzz, although Loki doubted he understood the nuances, was very fond of asserting his dominance over his less sporty and hyper-masculine classmates.

Suddenly jealous of the Curious brothers, under pressure from both the adults and his peers comparing him to them and bullied by Buzz, Loki’s social life fell apart. He started having problems... and he came up with solutions. He has always liked science but from back then on he hyperfixated on it to prove everybody who picked on him for being a worthless parody of a science kid wrong.

Not only his social life and self-confidence were busted, though. Moving away from Aurora Skies to Strangetown that had much higher prices for housing because of the limited space, the living standards for the Beakers lowered. It was chaotic and uncomfortable. Plus, almost everybody in Strangetown was loaded. Why, Circe and her parents lived in a small castle! Loki felt like they’re the only “poor” family around and it played into his new-found insecurities.

And then there was Erin’s accident. She suffered a severe head injury and even though she fortunately survived, she was never... the same. She had issues with her memory. Loki tried to convince himself that he’s big enough not to cry but when they were visiting Erin in the hospital and she didn’t recognize him, he cried. It was his little sister! And... it was all his fault anyway! If he was quicker and pushed her to safety, she would’ve been fine! Or even better, he wished the car would’ve hit him instead.

Loki was becoming more and more snappy, focused on his grades and projects, unavailable. The siblings never mended their relationship, Erin, even though she recovered, never got to make new memories with her brother. Not remembering them growing up together, he was like a stranger to her. A scary mean teenage boy she didn’t know and, even though she was a very friendly child, she was too intimidated to willingly spend time with him. And Loki was always busy and moreover, he felt guilty and inexplicably angry, so he postponed approaching her, until it was too late, he was in college, she was in high school and it was too awkward.

And... there was no time to write anymore.

2. Gertrude the Neat and Mean (and Lazy)

Ok, Loki doesn’t have any memories of his grandma. But hear me out! Erin does not have any of him either and yet they met. This theory doesn't require any additional write up – he simply got under the influence of his 0 Nice points granny and she cultivated him to be just like her.

My personal take: This is maybe my least favorite theory of them all, even though it is quite straightforward. It doesn't take much into consideration and demonizes Gertrude, who as far as we know, might not done anything wrong.

3. The accident

This theory takes advantage of TS3's canon sciency machinery, namely Cerebralizing Brain Enhancing Machine 2.0.

It can, among other things, change a Sim's personality. There is (quite unfortunately, in my opinion) no chance of consequential failure in the actual game, the most it can do is to (non-fatally) electrocute your Sim. But...

Imagine smol Loki sneaking into his dad's laboratory, most probably at his workplace.

He was curious. Ever since his father showed him all the equipment in there, all he could think of was the machine that made people smarter.

Maybe it could make him smarter?

I mean, Loki knew he was already quite smart. At least, he's been told he was and he had no reason not to believe it.

But he could be even smarter.

He could be like his dad. Or his mom. Or Erin. Everyone was talking about how clever young Erin seemed. Loki was proud of her but part of him just wanted that, too.

So what if... he went to dad's laboratory, just for a little while, and made himself smarter?

He made all the necessary preparations. It meant to memorize dad’s schedule, so he knew just the time when he could sneak into the laboratory. It also meant to get a good costume so he won’t be recognizable on the security footage!

And then finally, he was ready. To infiltrate the laboratory was easy enough but it only made Loki more nervous. He was on the edge but determined. He wanted to make it big in the world. He needed to seize the opportunity. And fear... fear was there to be ignored! Hands, stop trembling!

His confidence grew a bit once he got to the machine itself. He knew how to run it thanks to his dad and it made him feel competent and ready.

Little did he know that there was a huge oversight. Although Loki could operate the technology on a very basic level, his knowledge went nowhere near deep enough for him to detect that the machine has yet another set of settings and those currently expect an adult user. It wasn’t configured for a child patient.

But unaware of that, the boy in his patchy dinosaur costume climbed on top of the machine and with his eyes wide open and his heart racing he connected the Brain Enhancer to his system. Then, with his hand sweating, he pushed a button on a remote he was clutching to.

When Bjorn, alerted by Loki’s screams, rushed into the laboratory, it was way too late.

As his terrified father was calling the ambulance, the child was alive and even still awake. He was too weak to cry. He just watched Bjorn, wishing for death and looking for signs of wrath in father’s eyes.

There were none. Only fear.

Physically, Loki Beaker managed to recover just fine. With the power of advanced medicine and plastic surgery, the burns he suffered were reduced to nothing but almost invisible scars.

But inside, he was never the same. Literally. Even though the procedure backfired horribly, it still worked to some extend - but even that extend was warped. Loki succeeded in giving himself the Genius trait but several of his traits were replaced also, including the Lucky trait that probably saved his life.

6: Conclusion!

I like Loki very much. (no sh*t, who would’ve guessed) He’s a very controversial and over-the-top character who tends to be rather unpredictable in the actual gameplay. I started writing this giant thing to find an answer to his backstory that would satisfy me and hopefully also some of you.

With a heavy heart I conclude I’m not successful.

First I have to admit I originally planned to present 5 theories instead of 3 but I scrapped 2 of them.

First was about Atom time traveling and replacing Loki, creating himself again and again in a time loop (would explain the huge personality difference between smol Loki and Loki-Atom) and it was very far-fetched but fun, alas I realized it was out of character for Atom, since he seems to love his sister and his Plumbot so much he would hardly leave them behind to pull that off.

The second was about Nervous and the corrupting power of Death he has inside that would slowly drive Loki and Circe “evil” even though it’s unclear whether they first adopted him with being a lab-rat in mind. But it would not make sense since a change like that would be visible on their personality panels. That’s not that important, though. What made me not include this theory is that it feels uncomfortably victim blame-y. It’s not directly since it wouldn’t be Nervous’ fault anyway but any attempt to shift the blame from Loki and Circe in this situation feels uncomfortable.

(To be clear, I don’t think the Beakers deserve demonization. In my opinion, the best way to treat them narrative-wise is like eccentric people capable of feeling love and doing good things sometimes, yet irredeemably self-centered, morally bankrupt and deserving a lifetime in jail for child abuse they have done on Nervous. Not one-dimensional but still villains and still objectively bad people.)

And those 3 theories above? They could’ve been better.

I think I like the first the most, even though I still feel like something is missing. I just tend to like relatively grounded explanations and this one doesn’t feature the supernatural nor any deus ex machina gadget.

What about you? And do you have any other theories? Sky’s the limit! It’ll make my day to hear them!

Whatever your takes are, they’re all valid.

[thecleverdame]

The Oath - 15

Parings: Dark!Alpha!Sam x Omega!Reader

Story Master List

Summary: After an unsuccessful escape attempt, the reader finds herself taken as a spoil of war. She ends up in the bed of a ruthless Alpha, the son of John Winchester, leader of the kingdom of Gilead. She struggles to conceal her true identity and navigate a society where being an Omega means nothing more than serving at the pleasure of powerful men.

Warnings: non-con, sexual assault, rape, attempted suicide, sexual slavery, branding, torture, ownership, voyeurism, anal play, smut, violence, and murder.

Sam is dark in this story. If any of the warnings are triggers for you, I would suggest skipping this one. Please read and heed all the warnings.

Beta: ilikaicalie

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-

No matter how long you stare at the bite on your neck, it’s still hard to believe it’s real. 

Sam claimed you. 

Sam Winchester claimed you. 

Adding to your humiliation is the fact that you asked for this. Begged him to bite you, begged him to do a lot of other unspeakable things that make you blush in the light of day. That’s not remotely fair. To be an Omega in the bed of an Alpha, your Alpha, during his rut...you would have asked for anything in that state. 

Your body is a map of his rut. Even two days afterward you’re covered in bite marks and bruises. Handprints on your arms and around your wrists where he held you down as you pleaded for it harder. 

God help you. You’re all in now. Any thought of ever going back to your own family has been eradicated. The last vestiges of hope have drained away.  Even if by some miracle you were able to escape, or your father won the war, you could never stay away from him. You’re bound for the rest of your life and you’ll die without him. 

You are his and you’ve decided for your own sanity that you’ll play the part until you truly forget who you were. It’s time to give in. Clinging to false hope can only serve to bring devastation when the fairy tale ending never comes. There’s no way out. So you have to be all in. 

John is in the camp. His men have joined up with Sam and Deans to form a massive army. You can hear the commotion from outside the tent, feeling sick at the thought of having to meet him. 

You’ve heard the tales of John Winchester for years. It’s easy to think that men with his reputation are often blown out of proportion, but you fear all those stories were accurate. The tales of cruelty were indeed rooted in truth.

That evening several women come to assist you in getting ready. One braids small strips of your hair, pinning it atop your head while the other laces up an intricate dress the likes of which you haven’t seen since you were a proper princess. Sam watches stoically from the corner as they flit around, nervous and desperate to have you up to his standards. 

“Make sure to leave some of her hair down. Cover the bite,” he instructs. The young woman combing your hair jumps out of her skin when he speaks. 

“Of course, my lord.” She smooths the hair into waves around your shoulders, arranging it just so. You won’t be able to move without fear of undoing her handiwork. 

He hasn’t said much in the last few days, more quiet than usual. Studying you with unnerving intensity. It’s like he’s waiting for changes. As if he thinks his bite will trigger some dramatic physical metamorphosis that will happen right before his eyes. 

With a final cinch, your dress is fitted and the woman at your back takes a step away, bowing her head. 

“Would you like to inspect her up close before we take our leave?”

“Yes.” Sam stands up, both women scurrying backwards to put as much room between them and him as possible. He makes a circle around you, nodding slowly. “You’ve done well. You may both go.”

They’re out of the tent in a dash, allowing you more freedom to speak to him. He doesn’t mind your familiarity, but you’re sure to question when no one else is around. 

“Why am I wearing this dress?” you ask. You’ve got a good idea but you want to hear him say it. 

“We’re having dinner with my family. You need to look your best.” He places a hand on your shoulder, guiding you back to the same mirror you stare into every morning. This mirror has seen more tears and whispered prayer than any other in existence. “You’re beautiful, but I needed you to look polished tonight. Representative of the prize that you are.” 

He stands behind you as you both stare at your reflection as he places a hand on top of each shoulder. This is a woman you never thought you’d see again. Not only clean but composed. Your hair is wonderfully intricate, the top half of your hair braided and looped around the crown of your head. The dress is immaculate and your cheeks a rosy pink. 

Perhaps his instincts are correct. Over the months since your capture, you’ve looked thinner and paler as time dragged on. But in the two days since his claim you’ve flourished. Brought back to life the Omega inside that’s nourished in a way you’ve never been before. Despite the circumstances, belonging to an Alpha is what you’ve been craving for years, there’s no denying it. 

“I’m scared,” you whisper, watching his reflection. He meets your eyes, unwavering as his fingers curl into the meat of your shoulders. 

“Don’t be scared, little bird. My father is intimidating to most people. But do you know the one thing John Winchester is scared of?”

You don’t have to ponder the question long before the answer becomes clear. 

“You?”

“Me.” He breaks into a joyless smile. One hand drops down to your waist, pulling you flush against him. “And he should be.”

-

Sam escorts you across the camp with a half dozen men trailing behind him. He doesn’t normally have a small army of personal bodyguards. It’s unclear if this is because of you or to protect him. But it is clear that the amassing of army’s has changed things. There’s an intensity in the camp that you can feel, it’s hanging heavy in the air as you pass through. 

The sight of an Omega draws attention. And Sam Winchester’s makes for a full out spectacle. You can feel the shame and fear make your face red as you scamper beside him. Even though it’s unlikely, there’s always the possibility that someone could recognize you. The wrong person could point and shout out your true identity. 

There’s a huge tent at the center of the camp at least twice the size of Sam’s. It appears to have been set up specially for dinner. There’s not much inside save for a long dining table lined with chairs. 

You take a seat across from Greta as Sam and Dean launch into their own conversation. She’s not as perky as the last time you saw her. There’s a limpness, a dullness in her eyes that tells you the fight is almost gone. 

“Hello.” You offer a hesitant smile.

“Hello.” She stares blankly at you. 

“Greta,” you whisper, reaching across the table to take her hand. “Are you alright?”

“I am alive,” she answers, tears pooling in her eyes. 

The two Alphas move away from the table for a stronger drink from the sideboard. You take the opportunity to pour Greta a glass of wine, then yourself. She takes it from you with a weak thank you. 

“Has something happened?” you whisper, checking to make sure that the men are otherwise occupied. “Something more than…”

Imprisonment and assault. 

“No,” she takes a sip from her glass. “It’s been a lot of the same. I’ve realized that you were right from the beginning. Being so obstinate has only made the situation worse.” 

You want to ask exactly what she means by “worse” but you’re not sure you can handle the answer. She’s no longer shackled. It appears she finally stopped running away or maybe it’s just for show. Turning up to dinner with John Winchester with a chain around her ankle would make Dean appear weak. 

“Maybe we’ll have a chance to talk later.” Trying to remain upbeat, you pat the top of her hand. “Drink some more, it will help.”

Without any sort of introduction, John enters the tent with a woman on his arm. A few men walk in behind him, fanning out to stand guard by the doorway. 

You stand up without even thinking about it. Greta jumps to her feet as well. Looking to Sam you try to deduce if you should go to him or stay put where you are. After all, in Gilead, you’re a strange combination of high social status and half a person. 

You’re relieved when Sam gestures for you to come to him. He and Dean both greet their father while you and Greta watch from a step behind. John looks tired, almost unassuming, but there’s a flicker in his eyes that gives away his lethality. 

He and Dean embrace with a hug that looks genuine. And then Dean turns to the blonde woman beside John for a kiss and you understand, this is their mother. Sam has mentioned her offhandedly but you assumed she was dead. She’s standing just behind John with an unnerving smile. 

When it’s Sam’s turn he and John share a more uncomfortable version of Dean’s greeting. Neither of them wants to touch the other. When it’s his mother’s turn he embraces her with the same vigor as his brother. While Sam is devoid of telltale warmth that a mother and son share, he still attempts to show her some affection. 

“You both look well.” John looks from Dean to Sam, seemingly pleased with what he sees. “Very good.”

John looks from Greta to you as if just noticing you for the first time, appraising you from head to toe before chuckling with a nod to both his sons. 

“You both have one. That’s good. Having an Omega waiting keeps you clear-headed on the battlefield.”

“Yes it does,” Dean agrees with a genuine grin. In stark contrast to Sam’s disdain, Dean seems to bask in their father’s approval.

“Please, let’s eat. I know we’re all hungry and we’ve got plenty of time to catch up.”

Everyone takes their place. You’re nervous you might say or do the wrong thing, so you fold your hands into your lap and try to draw as little attention as possible. The soldiers stationed along the wall stare dead ahead as if transfixed, never looking at anyone or anything. Ready to spring into action at a moment’s notice. 

Sam refills your wine glass without so much as a look and settles it for the evening. 

Everyone eats and drinks as the evening wears on. You know it’s coming but you’re taken off guard when John hones in on you. 

“Why don’t you tell us where you found your Omega, Sam? She’s a rare find.”

“She’s very beautiful.” Mary stares at you blankly, devoid of any real emotion. 

“Yes, she is.” Sam turns to you, reaching to brush the hair away from your neck, exposing his bite. You stare at him in horror while the table goes silent. It takes a moment for everyone to understand what they’re seeing. All conversations stop, even the sounds of plates and cutlery are silenced at this revelation. 

John Winchester clears his throat and your eyes flutter shut, scarcely able to handle what unknown comes next. 

“She’s claimed?”

“She is.”

“By you?”

“Yes.” 

John takes a breath, both fists resting on the table curl tight until his knuckles go white. 

“What the hell is wrong with you, boy? Do you know what this means? What I have to do?” His face is red, and you wonder if he’ll order you both dead here and now. 

“Tell me, what do you have to do?” Sam’s antagonizing him, a grin pulling at his mouth. 

“Sam,” his mother breathes, looking in horror from her husband to her son. “What have you done?”

“Were you looking for a fight? Is that what you want, for me to take her from you?”

“You’re not taking her,” Sam spits back. 

“Yes, I am.”John points at you and it’s all you can do not to burst into tears. “I can’t let you keep her. What example would that set? The laws are centuries old. This is what we’re fighting to uphold.”

“Consider this an exception.” Sam shrugs, picking up his wine glass. 

“There are no exceptions.”

“Then why don’t you come over here and try to take her then?” Sam offers, eyes narrowing with the challenge. “Drag me off to the chopping block while you’re at it.”

“Why do you always have to undermine me!” John yells, standing up. 

“She’s my mate.” Sam stands too, slow and deliberate. “If you try to take her, I’ll kill you. If you send men to take her, I’ll kill them and then I’ll come for you.”

“Sam,” John pauses pounding the table with a single fist. “How am I expected to enforce the laws if my own son doesn’t follow them?” 

“You’ll think of something.”

“You are to be an example to the men!”

“I am no man. You said that yourself. Don’t think for a moment that I need your permission for anything. I do all that you ask of me. I was loyal until the day I died and in return, I take what I want. When and how I want it.” 

They stare at each other, each waiting for the other to back down. 

“You let him do this?” John turns to Dean who holds both hands up.

“I know it’s been a while since we’ve all been together, but I’m sure I don’t need to remind you that no one lets Sam do anything. This isn’t on me.”

“No, it’s not. It was my decision.” Sam adds. “She’s been with me since Eden and now she’ll stay with me.” 

Sam relaxes, his display of dominance is over because he was the winner before this even started. 

“Soul or not, you’ve always been hard-headed.” John sinks back into his seat, letting out a sigh. “Tell me Omega, what’s your name.”

You sit up in horror, looking from John to Sam. 

“I, um-”. You clasp your shaking hands together in your lap. “Sparrow.”

“What an unusual name,” Mary chimes in. 

“Yes,” you agree looking down at your lap. 

“Tell us Sparrow,” John continues. “How many Alpha were you with before my son?”

“None sir,” you answer immediately, wishing you could crawl under the table. 

“That’s something I suppose.” John composes himself sitting back and patting his wife’s hand. “If there was ever a reason for a break in tradition, Sam is it. But I don’t want anyone else thinking they can get away with-”

“I don’t think that’s a problem,” Dean interjects. “If you like we’ll make sure to make an example of the next man who abuses his privileges with an Omega.” 

John seems to accept this and it’s as if the confrontation never happened. Suddenly they’re talking about heading south and the warmer weather.

That’s it. It was that simple. Sam was right, John is afraid of him. 

The night drags on. Dean and John tell stories of their time apart. While Sam doesn’t engage, he seems amused with a few of Dean’s embellished tales. It’s just as dinner is coming to an end that you sense the mood shifting. 

John is now focused on Greta, watching her while he listens to his son ramble on about sword makers and strategies. When Dean finishes his story John tips back the last of his wine. 

“I think it’s time to take care of our most important business, don’t you?” 

Both Sam and Dean agree, making it clear they all know what’s coming next. John raises a hand and there’s a commotion outside the tent. Two soldiers bring a man inside, he’s bloodied and beaten, limp, feet dragging in the dirt. 

You look to Sam and then back to the man, sure that you don’t want to witness whatever is about to happen. 

“Oh my God,” Greta starts to stand and Dean grabs her arm to keep her in her seat. “Father!”

Your heart drops into your stomach. Her father, the renowned General Kaiser. He’s one of your father’s most trusted confidants. You feel terror for her as she begins to cry, looking wildly around the table. 

“Please,” she begs, grabbing at Dean’s sleeve. “Don’t hurt him please, I’ll do anything.”

“Be quiet,” he says with a gentleness that you’ve never seen before. “Stay in your seat.” 

This man knows you, in fact, he’s known you since you were a little girl. Kaiser lifts his head, smiling when he sees his daughter. 

“It’s going to be alright Greta. Do what you’re told.” 

Kaiser then looks from John to Dean to Sam and then his gaze falls on you. It’s a split second before recognition sets in. His eyes dart from Sam to the exposed claiming bite on your neck. He understands almost immediately and forces himself to look away. 

“We need information.” John begins, getting to his feet. “This man has the power to secure the war. Everything we need, the general knows. Regrettably, our honored guest has been less than forthcoming. So tonight we’re going to try a new tactic. Sam, take care of Greta for us, will you?”

“No,” you whisper under your breath as Sam makes his way around the table. 

Sam takes her by the arm, pulling her out of her seat. Dean simply watches, concealing any and all reactions. 

“Take your hands off her!” Kaiser shouts. It breaks your heart, he’s been beaten within an inch of his life. There’s no way out for him and yet he tries to protect his daughter. 

“He will take his hands off her when you give us something we can work with. Where are Benedict's men being moved to? Tell us the rally point. If you don’t, my son will slit your daughter’s throat.” 

“I don’t know,” Kaiser answers, a tear sliding down her cheek as he stares at Greta. 

“How about the location of his advisors? I was told they were being kept together for protection. Or his children? Anything we can use.”

You stop breathing, chest tightening, heart thumping hard and fast. This is it. The end. All he has to do to save Greta is point a finger at you. Sam tenses as if he can feel your panic and gives you a questioning glance.  Kaiser looks at you for a fleeting second, then looks up as if sending up a final prayer. 

“I am loyal to my king until I die.” Kaiser holds his bloodied head high, the muscles of his neck shaking. 

“You are an idiot.” John shakes his head. Instead of looking to Sam, John turns to Dean. “Do you want to keep her longer?”

Yes, please yes. Please. 

“Sure,” Dean shrugs. 

“Very well.” John moves with a speed you wouldn’t have thought him capable of. In one move he unsheaths his sword and drives it deep into Kaiser's gut. Twisting as he presses forward. 

Greta screams, reaching out for her father. Sam lets her go and she crumples to the floor watching in agony as her father dies a slow, violent death right before her eyes. 

You’re out of the chair without a second thought, scurrying around the table and dropping to your knees to hold Greta in your arms. She howls as you rock her back and forth, listening to the last sounds of her father gasping for breath. 

And when it’s over you sit there, clinging to her and squeezing your own eyes shut. 

“It needed to be done,” John’s voice explains. “The longer we let him live, the weaker we looked. People need to know we don’t hold prisoners. They’re of use or they’re dead.”

“Understood,” Dean agrees. 

It seems like a lifetime before Sam pries you away from Greta. You’re in a stupor as he lifts you up and carries you away from the gruesome scene. 

Later That Evening

“May I ask you a question?” you ask. 

Neither of you has said much since you returned from dinner. You’ve been stuck in your own head replaying the events over and over.  He looks up from his book. Much to your surprise, he gets up from his chair and walks over to the end of the bed.

“What is it?”

“Your mother...I didn’t know she was alive. Why haven’t you or Dean mentioned her?”

“That’s a question with a long answer.” He holds your gaze. “She was gone for a long time. My father will tell you he thought she was possessed. But the truth is that she was disloyal,  undermining his orders. One morning she disappeared and we didn’t see her for a year. When she did come back she wasn’t our mother anymore. He did something to her, broke her. And since then she’s just a stranger with our mother’s face.”

“That's awful.”

“It is what it is.” Sam shrugs, shaking away the idea of his mother. 

You watch him thoughtfully, this man who’s now your Alpha. 

“You told your father you would kill him if he came for me. Did you mean that?”

“Yes.”

“And if your father had told you to, would you have killed Greta?”

“Yes.”

If you could just tell him the truth, what a burden would be lifted. You long to whisper your fears to someone. That you’re terrified that one day you’ll watch as your own father is slaughtered in front of you. That Sam will discover your true identity and turn on you himself. The very notion of your own Alpha turning his back on you makes you want to crawl under the covers and cower in fear. 

“You’re shaking,” he murmurs, looking down at your trembling hands. 

“This existence, my life...your life, it’s brutal. I don’t know how to come to terms with what happened. A man was killed in front of me. I can’t reconcile that...I don’t want it to be real.”

“I’m afraid there’s nothing I can do about that. Before this war is over there is no end to the violent things you’ll see.”

Normally he would dismiss you as weak or overly concerned for the welfare of others. Perhaps for the first time he seems to care that you’re upset. 

Tonight has proven one thing above all others. He takes his claim seriously, having you and keeping you for himself. He wants to be your Alpha, gets satisfaction from it. That’s easier to play into while lulling yourself into a false sense of security. 

“Will you keep me safe?”

“Yes,” he replies. 

His hand cups the cut of your jaw, a thumb slowly stroking across your cheek. He’s looking at you but lost somewhere in thought. His touch has never been soft, nothing close to tenderness. But as he cradles your face you see a glimpse of the man left inside him. 

You wrap your hand around his wrist, allowing yourself to sink into the moment. To let go of your old identity and forge a new one. 

His concentration snaps as his free hand moves to your knee and then up a thigh. He doesn’t stop until his fingers push into your folds to find slick at your core.

Giving a little moan, you spread yourself open for him as he withdraws his hand. 

“Are you always wet?”

Biting your lip you glance away sheepishly. 

“It’s your scent. When you’re near me I...I can’t help it.”

“I wouldn’t want you to.” He tugs at your slip. “Take this off.” 

You yank it over your head, lay back as he crawls over you, shedding his shirt, then his trousers. 

He buries his head between your thighs, shoving his tongue into your cunt as you writhe up against his chin. Both hands press down on your hips to hold you in place as his tongue drags upward from your wet hole to the swollen bud of your clit. Without warning he sucks at the most sensitive part of you. 

Two hands curl into his hair, yanking at his scalp but at the same time pushing his face into your pussy. It's a cacophony of sensations, a pleasure bordering on too much. He grunts and groans, giving you a brief reprieve, delving back down to shove inside you before returning to send you star-bound with the caress of his mouth. 

In moments such as this you forget where you are. What you just witnessed or the trials to come. Here in this bed, in this moment all is forgotten except Sam. 

Heavy and pitching, you’re at the edge of the abyss, ready to plunge headfirst over the edge. 

“Sam,” you gulp. 

You’ve never dared call him by his name before but it falls from your lips without a second thought. 

He moves fast, mouth leaving your cunt as he lunges upward to take your mouth. The spiced taste of yourself on his tongue is proof of his efforts as you kiss him back. Hands curl into the flesh of his back leaving tiny crescent moons across the skin. 

A hand wedges between your bellies, grabbing his cock to line himself up. The first thrust is intense. You easily take him in to the root, wet and needy, opening up as you have a hundred times before. The moment he finds his depth, you cum with a yelp. 

For a moment there’s nothing, then a burst of white before your eyes and the feeling of pulsing around him. 

He fucks you through it, slow and steady until you’re nothing but a twitching body underneath him. It’s a dizzy gratification and you swim in it until you feel his knot swell. He ruts deep and then fills you with seed. You lie under him for as long as it takes his knot to recede, listening to the sound of his breath, feeling the thump of his heart against your chest.

It must be the universe’s cruel joke that you’re so well matched. This sort of pleasure is meant for good people, people who fall in love and have a sweeping romance. 

And yet you find yourself bathing in the scent and heat of him, despite the man you know him to be. He may be dark and cruel and heartless, but he is yours. You know that now more than ever. 

[whitherliliesbloom]

feelings a quiver

[ ffxivwrite2020 ] ★ [ my writings ]  ★ [ prompt #02 - sway ] [ alphinaud/wol ]  ★ [ 1,612 words ]  ★ [ heavensward & stormblood spoilers ]

alphinaud leveilleur, alisaie leveilleur, haurchefant greystone, tataru taru, a couple other npcs & brief mentions of certain friend’s ocs

time does nothing to soothe his wayward heart

Certainly, a diplomat knew better than anyone else that words sometimes held more power than the razor edge of a sword. What mountain can be moved by a mere one man alone? And what nation was built upon the lack of communication?

He thrived on the sway his words could have, the power to shape the future as he so chose by the skillful flay of his own tongue. 

And yet as much as he was a man of a thousand words, so too were his compatriots as they witnessed his embarrassingly tongue-tied state in the presence of a single, equally silent lalafellin girl. 

Alphinaud had thought little of this heartburn when it first manifested, and naively brushed off the remarks Ysayle and Estinien would make as the group huddled around a crackling fireplace. His eyes had lingered upon her, curled up over a timeworn tarp as the chilly dravanian wind made her bangs lightly sway. She’d clutched tightly onto a fire aspected crystal upon her chest, but he finds the furrowing of his brows not to be a consequence of envy over her source of warmth, but worry. 

“Fancy the Warrior of Light, do you?”

Estinien was the first ever to realize - even when he himself had been terribly oblivious to the incessant throbbing of his chest. And when the young elezen dared to express his denial, words spoken carelessly in a feeble stammer, Ysayle could not help but to chime in with her own words.

 “It is true that you do seem oddly drawn to her.”

It will never feel odd to remember the way upon which Estinien and Ysayle first shared their first moment of comradery over their shared beliefs in feelings Alphinaud had not even realized he possessed, and even more strange would be the echoes of those sentiments from every corner of his life from then on.

“Have you not told her how you feel, Master Alphinaud?” 

Even bedridden as he was, it did not stop the patient from beaming enthusiastically up at his flushed visitor. And had it not been for the unspoken etiquette of keeping silence within an infirmary, he would have certainly proclaimed his lack of intent. It’s evident no near death experience would stop Haurchefant from exerting his own pressure onto his flustered, inexperienced junior.

That perhaps was for the better, for a pair of mismatched eyes parked permanently by the knight’s side glared such daggers Alphinaud believed for a moment it’d split his skull apart. 

“I don’t understand why you won’t just tell her! What happens if — s-something happens? And then you’ll never get to tell her at all — “

The absurdity of Laurelis’ spontaneous fountain of tears had done wonders, at least in the way of causing Alphinaud to feel an insurmountable amount of guilt. He had not come to be lectured, nor did he expect to leave the infirmary actually having the ridiculous notion of considering their words seriously. And yet he did, and unwillingly took the almost tragic way his friends’ romance had nearly ended as example for his need for urgency. 

Nidhogg’s death taught him to self-reflect, beyond crippling guilt he’d have to drown out with a swig of piping hot tea, that is. And beyond the specks of red that left a painful trail of memories amongst a sea of snow white. 

But there was always a tender violet hue, a glistening of lavender and mauve stars that shone up and reflected within their crystalline glow his hopes and dreams in life so brightly that he was always momentarily blinded from his shortcomings. And that songbird voice always called his name so sweetly, so innocently. He never knew when he’d started becoming reliant on that euphony to push himself further, to become more than he already was.

He’s come to accept his worsening heart condition, and yet could not help but wonder if it was fine to let it fester in her presence. Perhaps he’d let himself heal with ignorance, a cold shoulder, and ridiculous beliefs that someone of her talent and status could never understand or feel the same as him.

Alisaie would have none of that. Her voice and words, even to this day, remain the loudest and most grating of them all.

“I caught you staring at her! You aren’t fooling anyone, you know. Well, except for her.. How in the twelve are you two so bloody stupid?!”

Dearest sister always claimed to not be as good with words as he was. Quicker to draw the blade than she was a quill, she was. But she’s spoken a million words more than he about his feelings, echoed his heartbeat as if it had been completely unrestrained. She saw no point in his need for secrecy, and it always felt as if she’d pressure everyone else they knew into saying the same.

“You two are always staring at each other like a married couple, aren’t you? Nobody would ever believe the pair of you aren’t an item.”

He prays desperately whenever Elletha is present to hover around beside them, believing if anyone were to tell the cause of his unstable heart the truth of his feelings. 

“Do ya plan on keeping her in the dark forever??”

Even a certain dragoon, a woman whose motto had been to thrust her spear quicker than she was to stop and think had begun to pressure him, looming over his left shoulder like a dark cloud as Alisaie pressed over his right. They’d formed a formidable team indeed, passing snide remarks if they caught his gaze lingering upon the back of silken long white hair for even a second too long. 

Yet like the lovesick fool he was, he could not bring himself to swear off looking at her, or thinking of her for that matter. He was certain he’d die from the palpitations of his wayward heart, regardless of the words his friends, and his own conscious would spout out at him. 

What was more painful? He’d asked himself.. Tearing apart the trust and friendship he’d painstakingly built with the most wonderful woman alive, a woman he’d hurt and mistreated once so many shameful summers ago.. or to swallow his heart whole and let himself stew in this aching sensation, hearing nothing but ‘what ifs’ clog every corner of his mind. 

“If you wait too long, Alphinaud.. you may one day be too late to regret it.”

Tataru was always more sensible than he, despite what his qualifications would have one believe. She’d been telling him these very words in too many different rhymes and rhythms than he could count, worried more about the state of his basically nonexistent romantic status than she had been even her own. The secretary was pushy, almost as much so as his sister had been.

And yet she also understood him, stood by him as long as the Warrior of Light had. She’d watched his transformation, the metamorphosis of what was once the slight skip of his heartbeat into an unbearable, terminal and crippling enamor. And she’s seen what a broken heart looked like, saw what men and women wreaked with guilt became, and heard their helpless cries that always echoed their regrets of being too late.

Alphinaud had nearly became that man, he was certain of that when he’d arrived to the House of the Fierce only to find the Warrior of Light missing and heard of her plans to confront the Imperial Legatus. 

He had thought his days of taking her strength and willpower for granted over, two whole summers over. Ravana, Bismarck and Niddhogg had not taught him a single thing, nor did the warnings of his friends that rang louder in his ear than ever before. And he was going to pay for it with the death of his heart he could have prevented had he just spoken. 

He knew not how many second chances fate would grant him, pleaded woefully despite knowing his lack of a right to. But he continued to pray anyway, and he swore upon the words he was told by everyone his life, past, present and future that he’d craft words of his own for once. What good was a diplomat who could not speak? What good were words when they were left unspoken?

The Warrior of Light survived. Barely, but she survived and escaped. The dark gash over her collar bone still haunts him to this day, a reminder of when he’d nearly lost everything. But it was also a reminder of the first words he’d spoken from his heart to her, ones that allowed him to witness the swirling of those violet nebulas before him closer than ever, and to hear his favorite melody whisper her own words of sugar into his ear. 

Yanxia was hardly the most scenic place for a confession. Had Alphinaud the choice, he would have most certainly chosen somewhere more picturesque, presented the girl with a large bouquet of her favorite floral arrangement, dressed to the nines and with eyes that weren’t clearly bloodshot from his earlier shedding of tears. 

He’d at the very least prepared a script, mentally written and rewritten his lengthy prose addressed to her so many times over he’d memorized what he wanted to say word for word.

But he’s left transfixed as he stares at her, and sees his future staring right back at him. Alphinaud is left speechless once more, like the foolish, failure of a negotiator he is. And all he can think of saying is what the little cracks of his heart has wanted to say for so, so long now.

“I love you, Illya.”

[mamafishfound]

Leon: The Rabid Lion and Astrology

Alright finally got to posting this I'm sorry it took so long a lot was going on with the Cornovirus stuff and my husband had issues with his green card and can't find it which we had no luck finding but alas thats a unrelated issue to the post. So here we are for the long awaited Star Crossed Myth and Astrology post

The Leo Archtype

Leo is ruled by the sun and rules the 5th house, the house of creative expression, arts, hobbies,children, and ect. Leo energy shines the brightest when it is in your sun sign and many famous Leos tend to pursue theater careers and are stereotyped as dramatic and attention-seeking. In a way when we first met Leon, he instantly was all like " you do what i say woman" and magically took her up in the sky to show her the stars. Logically speaking he was just trying to convince her he and the rest of the gods were for real not just trying to kidnap her XD, but the way he did all that was very dramatic and theatrical hahaha. So right off the bat, Leon was very Leo like ASSHOLE edition. In my experience, Leo placement folks are rather generous expressive and kind and although they appear to be self centered, they are kind to their friends and love to share the spotlight. Leon I guess is the kind of Leo who is sick of all this attention due to his powers (if you consider it a power hehe) and thus he wanted to withdraw himself from others and used his powers to appear dominate and in control. Leo energy is very much all about keeping up their reputation and the bad apples of the signs can come across arrogant and egoistic, which Leon shows right off the bat in his route and other routes. Leon's whole purpose is to erase his sin of rejecting true love. Leo archetype is all sharing and expressing love so Leon is basically an unevolved Leo that need to find love for himself once more. Leon was always hard on himself and due to his guilt of indirectly causing a goddess to fall from grace... I don't blame him.

Leon hides the very dark and sad feelings he has and its up to the MC to help him rediscover the true beauty and essence of love. Love does correlate with creative expression that the archetype is all about and I don't blame the king of the heavens casted him away. Leon shouldn't just waste away in self doubt and hide it in shield of aggressiveness and arrogance. Fixed signs in general can have a hard time being open to different perspectives in morale and values and when they are fixed in one way to view the world its a bit of a challenge for them to change it up. This isn’t the say all fixed signs are narrow-minded but when they do change its almost like they go through a metamorphosis and they are better then ever.

Leo is a fire sign and its also fixed, so passion and self expression is strong and upfront. I only met a few introverted Leos and even they have a certain type of stubbornness that is unmatched. Leon takes several chapters to admit his downfalls and give love one more shot. He didn’t believe in true love because all he saw was goddesses lust for his sex and power, so he came to one conclusion that love is not real and he wanted to change the heavens to see through his own image. He even attempted to overthrow the king and take his place. He was someone who thought highly himself and wanted his way only. Its no wonder he is the leader in his department due to his power and charisma that the Leo archetype is all about.

once Leon opened up his cold heart to MC then he is absolved of his sin and he can fully represent the Leo sign. He still is a bit controlling dominate and sadistic (which is why we all secretly love him for hehe) but after he reaches his revelation in love he is more caring generous and kind to the MC. He definitely did a 180 and was more daring and love struck which i can see in Leo placements in general. Leo energy is also known to be wildly sexual and hot and heavy in the bedroom. Leon in some side stories and sequels to his story he definitely is known as an amazing sex god.

The 5th House

This house in astrology is associated with our creative endeavors, hobbies, casual flings, self-expression, and artistic talents. This house is how we standout (or don't standout?) in this world compared to others or audience we are "performing" to. Leo energy is said to be the performers of all the signs so we can imagine that this energy desires to shine through. Leon is the main guy in this story and its no wonder, since he is the route who "outshines" the rest of the guys. Kidding of course LOL, but if you saw the interview of one of the writers of the story, she appeared a bit thirsty for Leon when discussing his storyline. He kept trying to paint the Heroine to be so into him when she got embarrassed over seeing him and Teo having an "orgy" ( like they were just messing around but basically it appeared to be like that LMAO) and even pointed out their bet on the Heroine to be curious and want to "watch their performance". Perhaps she did want to secretly see it but to be accused of such can be humiliating haha. I understand that since I'm a 12th house person ( I'll go over that on Ichthy's analysis if you are unfamiliar with the houses in astrology) I tend to hide my true colors and myself out of shame and insecurity and so seeing Leon being so arrogant and so full of himself rubs me the wrong way and it explains why hes one of my least favorite characters, because he represents everything i shame myself to feeling. Arrogance and cockiness can be seen in the 5th house but remember that is only shown if the said individual is enabled to do so.

Leon represents the side of this house with casual flings and self-expression. He is the head minister of the Wishes department, and even though he acts like he could care less, he is very passionate of his role. All the gods under his department respect him despite his blatant affairs. The fifth house is all about living life to the fullest and expressing ourselves in a way that makes us feel special and unique. The sun rules this house and its no wonder because the sun is the brightest star in our solar system. Leon knows this and it seems he is tired of this yet he still enjoys having the limelight still. This is very stereotypical of Leo energy in general but I feel Leon is just bored of simply getting attention just because he wants to gain attention being unexpected and challenges the King for it by attempting to take his power. I think side stories or his POV route goes over this more but Leon is tired of playing by the rules and he wants to go extreme in order to feel more "alive". From what i heard from others regarding his second season stuff and other side stories, his route is all about the DRAMA and its no wonder he's pushed to be the front man of the game....we all love a hot and dramatic story line for our daily otome hahaha (and if you don’t well....ajfklajlfjakljflajjaklajlGAJJJ lol jk do you boo).

Children also represent this house and normally its associated with your relation with children or how you are as a child. This house also might cue in about your own children if you chose to have any that is. There is a saying that says " Children brighten our world" which is fitting considering what makes us stand out and "bright" is what this house is all about. Leon is not necessarily a big fan of children (unless side stories of his reveal otherwise) but his dramatic and unfiltered comments to the Heroine can be deemed "childlike". Someone correct me but he and Partheno are the only routes that its confirmed the Heroine get preggers right? If not then what i am about to say is invalid but its no wonder Leon's route gets the married with a baby ending. I wonder how he would be as a father? I bet he will shower his child with love tender and care but would also push his child to be the best version of themselves. People in general with personal planets in the 5th house if they decide to have kids, are very good parents and would be the fun mom or dad that encouraged their kids to reach their dreams.

Planets in Leo

Okay so we talked about the archetype of Leo and the house placement and a bit of its ruling planet (the sun) of Leo as well. Now for planet placements. I will only be focusing on the 9 planets astrologers study just to keep things simpler. If anyone wants more of my take on other placements such as Chiron, North node, or even Lilith, let me know I will make a separate post for that. In a birth chart the moment you were born its made by the exact placement the planets are at the time. The sun sign is normally what horoscopes go over but did you know that Venus mars and other planets impact you even more? Since the gods rule their own sign, we can assume their birth chart is all in one sign haha. So I will be going over how Leo energy is played in each planet and how its shown in the entire main story for Leon's route.

Sun in Leo

The sun is considered our sole purpose in our life time. It also is the part of us that is our over all theme of our personality and life choices. It also is what we want to become in the future. The sun sign is normally what horoscopes focus us but the sun sign is only like a summary to our life long autobiography. Sun in Leo is Leo's true home planet and its easier to pick out Leo sun folks especially if their sun sign is positioned between the 1st and 5th houses. Leon is very much the staple of Leo with his arrogance, confidence and need to be dramatic. Though at times he tries to act like he could care less, its soooo obvious he does care about being the center of the Heroine's attention even in the begining of his route XD.

Moon in Leo

The moon sign is known as the "dark side" of your personality. The moon is the hidden sense of self that only your close loved ones or significant others experience. The moon is also associated with the mother or women in your life. The moon is how we react and how we internalize our emotions as well. Most astrologers will look at your moon sign and might come up with what kind of mother or mother figure that raised you, since the mother is the parent that teaches and nurtures us and our emotional well being. Since there was no talk about Leon's parents in the main story (maybe in side stories? ) we will talk about how Leon expresses himself emotionally and how his emotions change based on how the Heroine interacts with him as they get to know each other. I really saw his moon shine when he saw how the Heroine was passionate about helping Her best Friend Hyori's romance life. Normally Leon acts like he could care less but he was being inspired by the Heroine's persistence to make Hyori and her bf to get along again after a big fight. Another example was when Leon openly gives respect to the Heroine in teaching him love and its real meaning. Well go over that more in the Venus section. his emotions are volatile and responds when the heavens started to go against him. Leo moon folks normally are vibrant and warm folks and are good at sharing the lime light over Leo sun folks. Leon even thanks and acknowledges the Heroine for being so strong in the forbidden ending which is the epiphany of how Leo moons show their feelings.

Mercury in Leo

The mercury sign is associated with the conscious mind. This planet is all about how we communicate and retain information within. Mercury also is about our learning style and thinking pattern on a daily and mercury normally is closely aligned with our sun sign. Mercury in Leo are folks that can come across as theatrical and dramatic and are good at gassing themselves and others. The spotlight for this placement is vibrant and fun and Leon at the get go of the route is blunt with the Heroine. He is sadistic in his thinking and has fun being dominant an is very open in dialogue over that. Remeber when Leon would always call out the Heroine when she was distracted or doing something that is laughable? I do remeber her talking to Karno and he so calls out her out being a fickle goldfish. Throughtout his route he communicates with sass and always seems to want to start something. Its no wonder Zyglavis and Scorpio can't stand him, he just sooo full of himself but at least he can back it up being the strongest god in the heavens next to the king himself.

Venus in Leo

Venus is major component that Leon seems to lack connection with in the route. Venus is the planet of love, romance, and short term gains. Its also how we show are love to others and how we expect to be loved back as well in romantic relationships especially. Spolier alert, its love that Leon seems to underestimate love , causing the King of the heavens to kick him out to figure what is loveeeee baby dont hurt me (sorry i had too LOL). Leon doesnt realize this and thought since he did not pleasure the goddess that obsessed over him that was the reason he was cast away from the heavens. The 5th house has a tendency to be more about the fun and thrill regarding love and can get confused with lust. That is what Leon seem to have an issue with, he was so used to being the center of attention due to his power to give absolute pleasure but he always felt like he was being used by others. He wanted more when it comes to love and thats what the Heroine teaches him. Love can come in many different ways and I find Venus in Leo folks love to share the spotlight and help others find love within the best kind of trait in Venus in Leo.

Mars in Leo

Mars is considered the planet of action, agression and sex. Its very much the opposite of Venus. Mars is greatly shown in Leon's route, especially when he decided to fight the King of Heavens. Mars in Leo has a powerful force within any individual that has this placement. Leon's abiliies are known to be the most powerful and every god and goddess fear and respect him. Even Zyglavis the other department head fears him. going back to the concept of love, Leon confuses lust and love and he is apologetically thinks he knows better then what the heroine has to say about love and he gets aggressive if questioned or dissed. Leo placement folks tend to easily get offended and might lash out quickly if anyone questions their stance or actions. Leon is no exception and that plays in the role of fear and respect among all the gods in the heavens.

Jupiter in Leo

Jupiter is the planet of expansion and good fortune. Its the planet in our chart that gives us the most luck and talent wherever its positioned in the chart. I have this placement in my own birth chart (but in retrograde smh lol) and I think its shown in Leon's route with his natural charisma and excellent leadership skills. He might be feared and sought after the most but everyone relies on him the most when the going gets tough in the heavens. Even though he was cast out of the heavens for his sin, the gods still go to him for help as soon as they realize he can still use his powers. He basically is the ace and brings luck to the heavens when the going gets tough.

Saturn in Leo

Saturn is the planet of restrictions and discipline. Its considered the grandfather of all the planets. Leon is put on restriction for loosing interest in love and not doing his job to the fullest. He also is arrogant and looks down on those who don't have power like him. I see the king of heavens being like Saturn in these circumstances for he wants to teach Leon a lesson for getting too full of himself just becauae he has the most power. The entire route is basically synonymous to his Saturn in Leo that teaches him to not get cocky about himself and realize love's true meaning and to share love to all humans to be able to do his job correct. After all he is the head of the department of wishes and how could he grant wishes if he doesn’t even believe in the power of love?

Uranus in Leo

Uranus is considered one of the generational planets of change and humantarian pursuits. In the sign of Leo change is necessary on how you are viewed in the spotlight whether for a good or bad reasons. I think change occurred when Leon and 5 other gods where cut of their powers and had to figure out what their sin they needed to absolved from. Uranus is not comfortable in Leo since Uranus's original ruler is Aquarius, the opposing sign of Leo. So its no wonder Leon tried to fight the King and rallied up the other gods to go against him.

Neptune in Leo

Neptune is also a generational planet of modern day changes and the overall dreams society might strive for as a whole. Leon does have a wish to rule over the heavens and be the strongest god there ever is (spoiler alert he does in the ending of season 2 LOL) and he grows tired of the King of Heaven's sadistic ways so its no wonder he tries to go against him. I also associate Neptune in his job as head minister in department of wishes. Since dreams and wishes tend to intertwine, when it comes to granting wishes he seems to go for those of hidden desires in human's need to be center of attention. He did grant the boys need to get stronger to help his grandma as an example in his route. Wanting to be the center of attention is not inherently bad especially if its where you shine to help others in need and being the "hero".

Pluto in Leo

Now finally the planet of death is here haha that is not to say literal death but it does have association with the death and rebirth cycle. Pluto is the final generational planet that defines the exact generations itself ( such as boomers or generation z ect) each generation brings something new to the society and transformation on how things are change with changing times. Pluto is also represents what we need to change and evolve in our individual placements. Since the gods probably been around from many millions of years so Pluto's effects probably are more immediate then gradual. it took 12 chapters for Leon to learn about love and its true meaning so Pluto's transformation was more immediate for Leon then any human ever lol.

So How Accurate is the Game then?

So is the game accurate in representing Leo? Well that’s subjective they do got the negative stereotypes down of Leo's such as arrogance, over dramatic, and sadism but remember just because that is considered the bad traits doesnt mean all Leo's are like this. I have known a lot of great Leo's that are generous, entertaining and kind. In fact in my experience Leo's shine gives me hope for a better future in humanity itself. I think once Leon does realize the value in true love then that’s when more positive traits of Leo are shown. Leon is not overall horrible character he just has flaws that tend to get excused because he is the main guy and we as consumers that play this game are suppose to not care and want some of that shit he does to us because he is soooo hOt...Which is problematic but isn’t that the tea and Leo energy thrive in the drama in general even if they don't mean too. His route is the most dramatic and its only fitting that its because he's a Leo. Now a friend of mine (shouting out to u @bitch-pinnacle 😍) told me that the gods character design are similar to the Ascendant of each sign. The Ascendant is the sign that reflect your outward demeanor and how you are perceived to others. Finding your ascendant is by knowing your exact time of birth and it starts the entire house system in your birth chart. Leo rising are known to have hair like the mane of a lion and are expressive and lavish looking and tend to attract anyone to them. That definitely sounds like Leon. Even in his god form his hair is all big and long like a Leo rising are said to be like. So overall i think the game is pretty accurate its just that in the get go Leon embodies the negative side of Leo and I can see that rubbing you Leos the wrong way haha. After all if people say unpleasant things about you even if not meaning to can offend you. Leo folks in my experience get readily hurt fast if ridiculed or questioned. After all Leo is the performers of the zodiac and shine the most out in the open.

[falling-pages]

Worth it: Mori x reader Part 3/4

What up y’all, it’s your favorite caffeinated mess here with part 3! This chapter actually really threw me for a loop and it was a lot different than I had planned, but here we go. plot twists galore. angst galore. also, I made an executive decision to make this into four parts, just because the original trilogy just couldn’t fit everything in like I thought it could. 

Parts 1 and 2 here in case you missed them. Enjoy, comment, engage!

“Absolutely not.”

You throw down your fork and spring out of your chair, backing away from Kyoya. Pressing your hand against your chest, your heartbeat surely registering as a panic attack, you can’t tear your eyes away from your fiancé. He is like a magnet; something about him draws you to him. Not in a romantic way. More of a dark way, where you could feel his brain sucking you into a trap. 

“Well.” Kyoya stays still, his hands clasped behind him. “That is not the way I had intended on introducing myself to my future bride, but it will do.”

“We’ve met,” you chew out. As your eyes narrow in on the man sitting beside Etsuko, it all comes flooding back: he was her ex-fiancé, the boy chosen for her before she came out. And you were never alone in your playroom--you remember a sullen-looking boy scribbling something down as you ignored each other for the night. Kyoya must have been your playmate.

The velvet in your dress draws sweat, and the high-neck collar almost constricts your breathing. Slowly all the pieces fall into place. The woman who walked in must be Mrs. Ootori, and the young men her sons. The man who looked so familiar must be the patriarch. As one of the most powerful men in the country stared at you hard enough to burn, you suddenly saw his resemblance to Kyoya.

“Gina, be civil,” your father chides. Below the table his hands curl into fists. Your parents had never beaten you, but you had a feeling they would start tonight. 

“The third son to marry the third daughter,” Mr. Ootori broke in. “It only makes sense.”

Set on causing your parents another embarrassment, you shake your head. “No. Mr. and Mrs. Ootori,” they look at you, the wife’s mouth trembling, the man’s brow furrowed, “I am sorry you came all this way. I will not be marrying your son.”

“Outrageous!” your father roars. He slams his fists on the table as he stands to face you. A wine glass falls to the floor and shatters. “It is not your decision!”

“Yes it is!” you yell right back. “You’re selling me off like cattle to win favor with people you hate! I am my own person, and I get to chose who I marry!”

“Gina, you’re an embarrassment,” your mother mutters. She strokes the rim of her wine glass, taking a draught of the dark red liquid.

“Just like Etsuko, right? Eleven years ago?” Your sister shoots daggers at you while the man beside her squirms. Her sexuality wasn’t the issue: your parents were fine with that. What had embarrassed them was the time in which she chose to announce it, and that in doing so, embarrassed your family in front of the Ootoris and blemished your name in those social circles. They couldn’t survive round two.

You looked at Kyoya, who still hasn’t moved. Like a statue, the mouthpiece you never could be, he absorbed the verbal blows. But then you looked into his face, startled to see his dark eyes catch yours, even more startled to see the sad impassiveness inside. He had a good poker face, but you knew he wanted this engagement just about as much as he did.

Out of his Ouran uniform, he looked like a different person. You had seen him in class, the cruel, calculating, manipulative showrunner of the grade. Now dressed in a tuxedo, the light glinting off his glasses, he gave you a small, cold smile befitting a fox before a lamb.

This marriage? They could forget about it. You didn’t see how a boy who saw everything as a transaction to be gained from could ever feel love. Besides, with all that time he spends with the Suoh heir, you always thought he was of a different persuasion. 

“May I have a moment alone with my fiancée?” he asks, respectfully consulting your father. You start to protest, but Kyoya flashes you a look that pleads with you to go along with it.

At your father’s nod, Kyoya reaches out, grabs you by the wrist, and drags you around the corner to the guest bathroom, presumably from where he had just exited. Though your hands were slicked with sweat, his clammy palm pressed against yours, further emphasizing what a mismatch you were for each other. 

Kyoya shoved you in and bolted the door behind him. With his face to the door, shoulders heaving with an emotion known to no human, he possessed all the power of a desperate man watching his life slip through his fingers like sand in an hourglass. But then he turned around, and no trace of emotion remained. In his eyes were only a shred of moroseness. His lips were quirked, chest relaxed. Almost like nothing had changed.

What creature could endure such metamorphosis? The afternoon events led you to believe there was no God. This panicked escape, though, had taught you that if He existed, he was this boy in front of you.

“Kyoya,” you whisper, not actually knowing what to say. The hatred in your chest was never directed at him. You two were only pawns that had the unfortunate desire to act out.

Your fiancé looked at you. Really looked at you, not at your chest or like he looked at the girls in the host club. He looked at you like a partner, an equal, and it just confirmed everything you always knew.

“You’re forced into this, too,” you mumble.

The Shadow King nods. “Gina, you know people like us don’t get the luxury of love in a marriage.” He swallows, the words soaked in bitterness. “Maybe once or twice we can love outside these borders, but marriage? A ploy. A contract.”

As he paces the room, stopping to study the soap collection, you, too, look at him for the first time. 

“You love someone else?” you ask.

“Yes.” It takes him a moment to answer, and his voice is guarded.

“Well, so do I!” you exclaim, a grin stretching across your face. Maybe a solution is easier than you thought. “Just tell them you’re not on board, and they’ll call it off. They can’t force us to get married when we’re both opposed.”

“That won’t work.” Kyoya straightens and pushes up his glasses. “I need to marry you and have an heir to get my inheritance.”

You scoff, throwing a middle finger up at him. That’s what it all boils down to? Some sad rich boy getting Daddy’s money? “Frankly, I don’t give a damn about your inheritance,” you say. “I’m sure there are flocks of heiresses wishing to spend their fortunes for a future with you. Go marry someone else.”

“How easily you say that.”

At the smug tone you almost punch him. But then he looks at you again. His eyes trail up your body, not creepily, as some men do, not adoringly, as Takashi does. But knowingly, coldly, flicking his eyes at you nonchalantly as you understand.

Oh. 

“What was his name?” you ask softly.

Kyoya bends over the sink, resting his wrists on the counter, staring straight into his own worst enemy in the mirror.

“Tamaki.”

His tone is adoring, but he speaks each syllable like his tongue is wrapped in barbed wire. So your suspicion was right about him and the headmaster’s son.

“I see,” you say, your fingers curling around your opposite arm for comfort. “Does your family know?”

“They found us together,” Kyoya says, still locked in a staring contest with the mirror. From the brutal look on his face, you wouldn’t be surprised if he punched through the glass right now. “My parents’ marriage is one of diplomacy. They’ve never known love or passion,” he continues. “They do not understand the love within themselves. How could they understand what he and I had?”

Maybe he wasn’t as evil as you thought. Maybe he was just a boy with a broken heart projecting what he experienced at home.

“So they barred you from seeing him?” you ask. The sadness rolls over in your stomach, and you feel empathy wash over you. 

“They made sure that if I ever contacted him again, there would be consequences.” He finally looks at you. “You are aware of his heritage?”

You nod.

“Then you know how easy it would be to pay off a scientist to taint a paternity test that would send him back to France.” He clenches his fist. “With a dying mother, no relatives, and no inheritance. I couldn’t do that to him. Here at least he has his father, friends, an education. He is still the Suoh heir; he would be safe.”

You swallow. If that is what they would do to a boy of noble birth, you shuddered to think of what they were doing to Takashi.

“And you love a commoner?”

You were surprised at how quickly he moved on from his own heartbreak. “Yes,” you say, moved by his own circumstances to share your own. Though knowledge and rumors of the Shadow King’s manipulative strategies remained in your thoughts, you felt a strange trust in him, built on sympathy. “Takashi Morinozuka. I just know they’ve already done something to him. My family’s guards killed one of my sister’s old boyfriends, and I couldn’t bear it if they killed him!”

The absolute terror of finding Takashi’s dead body finally washes over you. Could you even bear watching his funeral, knowing that your impulsive love was his demise?

Kyoya cocks his eyebrows at the name. While you weep, he walks to you and lightly rubs your shoulder, an action that nearly makes you stop crying out of shock. Maybe you two could be friends, in the end. With an arranged marriage, that was the most you dared to hope for. 

“No, they haven’t hurt him,” he says, softly squeezing your shoulder before letting go. 

You rub your nose with a tissue, grateful for the reassurance. “You think so?”

“Of course not.” You lift your eyes to Kyoya’s and whatever hope of friendship you had dissipates at the glint of his glasses. “They didn’t know his name.” He stands up straight, giving you a cruel, tight-lipped smile. “And now they do.”

Before you can say anything, he walks out the door and slams it behind him. The click of the lock tells you you’re trapped in here, but that fear is only a little prick compared to the wave of betrayal crashing over you.

“You bastard!” you scream as realization sets in. You fling yourself against the door, pounding your fists hard enough to bleed. He really was a slimy, manipulative Shadow King who only views everything as a transaction to be gained from. 

And in trusting him, you just sent your beloved Takashi to his death.

I know. Don’t kill me, I’m crying too. Final part out soon! What do you think of all of these plot twists? What do you think Gina’s family is going to do to Takashi? Will Kyoya find his conscience and help, or will he end like a traitor? Come back next time to see! Parts 1 and 2 here in case you missed them.

[mamusings]

Supernatural Season 4 thoughts

Well it's a big season cos: angels. But what's really key about the angels here is that they are just another flavour of monster. A lot of criticism that spn favours a Christian outlook should really have a think about that. The supposition that angels must be good sets up a great mislead all the way into a least Death takes a Holiday where both reaper Tessa and Pamela tell Dean to use his instincts, rather than blindly hope angels must be good as there are no miracles. Arguably Dean struggles with his need for or angels to at least be better than demons right until the finale.

Looking at it that way, Castiel is a parallel character to Ruby. Our contrasting brothers, get contrasting sidekicks one demon and one angel. Ruby comes in looking powerful and impressive, providing info and guidance in episode 1, last season. Castiel fills the same space in episode 1 season 4. With both characters there is the ongoing question whether they can be trusted. Cas does plenty of questionable things in season 4 and Ruby is a demon. How exactly that plays out relates to the type of being they are. Ruby as a demon embodies pleasures of the flesh. Theres sex and (symbolic) drugs and shes deceitful in that she discloses things deliberately to manipulate. On the opposite side are the angels. They are of the rational. Cold, calculating. It's not random that the top angel we see is Zachariah in his business get up. They play on Dean's sense of honour and duty. They also mislead and manipulate although it's done by omission.

The big theme this season is what does it mean to be a monster - directly relating to the question whether Sam is one. Lots of episodes give us the monster's perspective showing us monsters as lonely, persecuted, and even innocent (Monster Movie, Jump the Shark, Metamorphosis). Sam is drinking demon blood, he's using his psychic powers: is he becoming something hunters would want to hunt?

But the season also gives us a fundamentally changed Dean. For all his flaws and doubts Dean has always been a 'good man'. However, he comes back from hell carved into something new. He is no longer fundamentally good, what he is we don't know. Dean enjoyed torturing. He liked it. That's key and too easily forgotten because we like Dean and we want to give him excuses. He doesnt excuse himself and he shouldn't. He still wants to do good and he tries, but he is no longer good in a core sense. He has lost something he will never get back is the point of his dialogue with Tessa.

Much of this season complicates our understanding of the boys mission and the moral meaning of that mission. They find themselves in situations where their actions are intended to make sure good people die. It's the Great Pumpkin shows us that moral choices look very different depending on the locus to take for moral action. If your locus is the family or the town then done things matter more than if it's the planet or the galaxy. How do you know what the right scale is? Within this the brothers are set up along another set of contrasts. Sam tries to work out his course of action by focusing in the ends, while Dean focuses on the means. It leads them to opposing positions on the demon blood thing.

In terms of Sam and Dean the surprising thing this season is that the relationship is essentially back to season 1. They basically need to get to know each other again. Both have changed and changed a lot. And because that's so difficult they are lying to the other about who they are now. The point of Sex and Violence is to make clear the distance between Sam and Dean. The episode also makes clear what they want from each other. Dean wants Sam to follow him again, Sam wants Dean to protect him again. Neither is possible.

The continuing theme is the absent father/absent god. This theme is often easiest seen through Dean. Dean sees himself as failing to live up to the standard he sees his father setting by breaking in hell. It's a familiar theme for Dean but On the Head of a Pin ties it explicitly to failing God. "I am not the man either of our fathers wanted me to be". The corrective comes from Dean's adoptive father Bobby in the finale admonishing Dean not to be like John, not to be stubborn and to call Sam because he is a better man than his father ever was. I see this as telling Dean not to confuse being stubborn with being righteous. Dean has just repeated JWs famous 'dont ever come back' line to Sam. This turns back round not through unconditional love in the sense of I love you no matter what. It matters hugely what, but the point is not to stop engaging with each other over it. Dean's apology voicemail makes clear they will continue to fight over this difference but they need to tackle it together and not by one chucking the other overboard.

For Sam the absent father reconfirms a tendency towards self isolation. This obsessive secretive part of Sam is the part of him Dean is usually capable of reacuing across into - because hes family probably in the most annoying sense. It's also a part of Sam that resembles his father. John also managed to isolate himself in service of his sense of mission. Not just from his sons but in falling outs with allies and friends. Over the season we see Sam resigning himself to seeing himself as a freak, as a monster undeserving of help, support or understanding. He stops the effort of communicating because he sees it as pointless. Instead he lies and conceals. It's only when he believes he no longer has any chance of receiving this from Dean that he makes the final push to kill Lilith. And when Dean shows up for him in spite of that, Sam is able to change course - although that's not entirely clear because its too late and hes already killed Lilith.

Anyway I see season 4 again as being about solidarity. Standing together. The brothers fail at that this season until its too late and Lucifer is freed. But I think the message of standing together is confirmed in Deans words to Castiel: "it's all a bunch of lies..its a way for your bosses to keep you and keep me in line. You know what's real: people". This reminds me fo strongly of Marx's religion is the opium of the masses that it feels convincing for a hit second that spn is both an atheist and a socialist show - just people don't seem to get it. How wierd is that? Particularly as the season seems to flag up disappointing creators - not least Chuck. Although my favourite is the teddy in Wishful Thinking railing 'is this all there is' against the little girl who wished him into being for the purpose of tea parties. More poignantly, the angels are revealed as baffled and exhausted by the silence at the top of their chain of command.

The existentialist bent of the show, for me, is highlighted across this piece of dialogue shared across three angel characters. In a fight over what action to take in the wake of God's continuing absence and non-communication:

Castiel: I still serve God

Uriel: you haven't even met the man. There is no will, no wrath, no God.

Anna: Maybe, or maybe not. But theres still me.

I see that me has having a twofold meaning. It means me as Anna who kills Uriel as she speaks. And it means me in the abstract. As the individual who needs to keep going, making choices, taking action even if there is no God.

Next stop: Team Free Will

[creativeashproductions]

Thanksgiving Brings New Dawns // Noah Centineo

Summary: Meeting someone at their worsts brings both pain and some positives. Meeting an actor who lost himself in his new world isn’t what you like but apparently the universe sees it as a necessity.

Characters: Noah Centineo x Reader, and Centineo Family

Words: 2.8k

Disclaimer: This is part of @thewackywriter‘s Fall Writing Challenge! I’m Canadian so our thanksgiving is in October but I thought I’ll get it earlier! I’m also very sorry for not posting fics because I had slammed into writer’s block but this challenge helped!

Warnings: Swearing, mention of drugs and alcohol, mention of illicit sex (no smut), angst (I mean it is expected from me) and a lot of fluff!

A/N: We are now taking requests for Noah Centineo and To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before. Do post our work anywhere else without our explicit approval

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If you had been told you would be married by twenty-one years old following a harsh breakup when you were just discovering boys you would have sighed longingly at the mere thought. What girl didn't want to be married young and have a handsome husband until you were in high school. The years of awkward puberty, changing voices and developing cliques from the moment you were at high school orientation.

In freshmen year you found your best friend who you would share secrets, makeup, and clothes with until somehow you both couldn't fit into the other's clothing. The joys of having different cup sizes and different shaped curves; that was okay because you shared the other things instead. Her name was Allison with gorgeous long dark hair and glittering brown eyes, well they were until she started eating on the bleachers with her boyfriend. The boyfriend that carefully and slowly separated Lis from her friends and family. Over the months you would try to speak, but Lis would walk away to her boyfriend's side with sadness etched into her form. The entirety of Sophomore year was spent with a new group of friends, and a boyfriend on the football team, a cliche of course, with big blue eyes and hair you swore was spun by angels.

He was your everything. Until one day he wasn't. Apparently, he needed tutoring for his English Lit class where you couldn't help him in as he took the AP class. It was Allison that found you staring in disgust in the tutoring center on her way to the bathroom. The same Allison that knew you needed her more than anything.

It was Allison who brought you to the police station to report that a teacher was having illicit relations with her student. The same Allison who protected you from your seething ex-boyfriend screaming profanity and threats on his way out to stalk the police station the teacher was awaiting bail. The teacher who was teaching him the Kamasutra's many sex positions as if it was one of the assigned books in class.

Allison would soon explain precisely why she closed off from everyone and you wouldn't take her to the police station instead. You swore off relationships together. That was it you believed.

Until you met him.

It was your favourite time of the year when the leaves started turning different colours just before they would start falling off the tree branches. God, you loved the fall and what it would bring each year with the pumpkin patches and candy on every shelf in the stores. It was also the most significant time to lay in the park on one of the last days that would be warm enough to avoid layers but not cold enough to need thick leggings and a sweater.

You were reading among the children running around the lush green grass with footballs, baseballs with gloves and a few frisbees. You were in the middle of some novel you had been recommended a while back when you were still finding yourself as a soon to be senior in high school. Brushing the threshold of adulthood. It was a book about finding yourself again in dark times as a memoir by Cheryl Strayed.

"Hey."

"Hi." You spoke without really thinking about it. Your eyes still glued to the words written in the battered book from the many times you had read it since you first picked up.

"What are you reading?"

"How to convince someone to leave them alone without murdering them." You spoke once more humming as you found your favourite sentence of the chapter.

"Who is it by?"

"A wonderful author named 'Screw Off'."

"I've heard of them." Dog-earing the page you looked up to see the shadow casting down on your blanket.

"Who are you?"

"Noah." He spoke sitting down on the edge of the blanket showcasing a pair of black jeans worn beyond belief with the skin of his knees showing through the frayed holes, you saw it wasn't bought worn either.

"You look like shit." You spoke when you finally looked up to see his face. There were bags under his eyes that looked as if they were permanent. You could smell the cigarette smoke on his clothes, and a stain you believed was some form of alcohol on his shirt.

"Thanks. Really awesome to hear a stranger say that." Noah snarked uncomfortably, "Can I just sit here? You seem cool."

"Are you hungover? It's Monday morning man." You spoke giving him your full attention.

"I'm avoiding the third degree from my sister." He sighed throwing himself down to look up at the sky, "She was blowing up my phone all night and until it went dead a few minutes ago. I love her, but she needs to back off."

"She's doing it because she loves you. Be happy about that. Be happy she cares enough to do something about it."

"What's your name?"

“Y/N" You merely spoke once more turning your attention to the clear blue sky.

"Well Yn you don't know the reasons behind my irritation." Noah snarked once more, "What are you reading?"

"A memoir of a woman that almost lost everything and decided to do something about it. She went on this great crazy adventure hiking the Pacific Crest Trail. She didn't have any guidance or experience, but she did-"

"She sounds stupid to go out without any training." Noah interrupted.

"She needed to do it to find herself."

"She could do that anywhere."

"Look man. Just because your life is shit doesn't make you an expert on how people should deal with their issues. How can you discover yourself in a society that has the internet at the simplest touch on their screens? She hiked because it gave her time to think without the disease of social media." You swiftly started gathering things up, "I don't know why you're drowning your demons in drugs, alcohol and partying in some typical teenage angst but honestly sounds like you need to find yourself."

"No, I-"

"Turn your phone off, talk with your sister and for god sake stop the self-medicating bullshit of drugs your 'friends' give you and the alcohol to numb the pain." You spat, "I don't understand people. You should find healthy alternatives. Gave a wonderful day you shitty person."

That was it. The toxicity of the 21st generation officially shattered your beliefs in humankind. Apparently, you were among the few handfuls of people that didn't judge and be terrible people in general. You wished you never met Noah even if you only interacted for a few minutes at most.

Noah stared after you quietly until you were a speck in the distant parking lot dragging a blanket and book in hand. It was then that Noah started the metamorphosis that would save him even if he wouldn't know for another few years. He began by buying "Wild" by Cheryl Strayed in the nearest bookstore. However, he would toss it in the back of his closet when his girlfriend Angeline texted about a party.

Two years later Noah would be trying to find his old iPod after his current one broke when he saw the sharp corner of something. Buried under clothing, near ancient scripts and unless items sat the book from two years back when he met that girl in the park who tore him a new one.

Despite the massive rager, his friend was throwing that included strippers, drugs, and a shit ton of alcohol of every kind something switched inside him. He forgot the iPod and sat down on the bed in his room to crack open the unread book. By the second chapter, he had texted his friends explaining he was done living the way he was before blocking the numbers and deleting the contacts. He took up healthy alternatives while finally opening up to his sister.tearfully.

September of that year you were picking up a few candles before you wandered over to the aisles of books you had always loved. You immediately went to the spiritual aisle where you perused the rows until a tan hand reached around you.

"This one is amazing." The hand gently removed a book as if it was an injured bird in dire need of help. You took the book from the person, "It's one of my favourites by far."

"'The Celestine Prophecy' by James Redfield ." You mumbled turning to face the person. There standing with a fresh complexion and calmness in his eyes was the boy from years before. The guy standing in front of you was the pessimistic asshole from the park.

"What the hell are you doing here?" You snapped.

"So you remember me." Noah spoke shoving his hands into his pants pockets, "I'm really sorry about that. I was a complete insensitive dick. I want to thank you though. Without you, I might be dead or on the cusp."

"How did I help you."

"You tore into me about self-medicating with drugs and alcohol. I ended up buying that book twenty minutes after you left the park. I didn't read it until I found it two months ago in the back of my closest. I swore off alcohol and partying." Noah quickly spoke as he blocked your path of escaping, "I'm completely sober now. I stopped smoking, drugs, alcohol and everything bad. I changed from relying on anxiety medication to working out routinely and doing yoga."

"You did?"

"In the four months I've been sober I've never felt so refreshed, awake and inspired." Noah grinned, "I have you to thank you for that. I'd think to take you out as a thank you."

You decided on the spot that Fall was definitely your favourite season, and Noah was the first person to crack your guarded heart. He was the first boy that awakened feelings you had felt since you first started dating your first boyfriend in high school.

By Thanksgiving, you were so in love with each other even if it seemed impossible in such a short amount of time. You spent as much time together as you could with his acting career and your school work and most nights you traded books on so many topics.

November was the official month Noah would blame the weather for the amount of cuddling he demanded. You didn't mind even when he tried to bribe you into coming to his family's Thanksgiving. He won.

By twenty-one you were engaged and married during October, you were adamant with your love of Fall and the season you got together with Noah. The first handful of months you were utterly wrapped in your love bubble surrounded by your animals in your house with your husband. You lived in blissed from the wedding until that fateful day you discovered you were pregnant.

Was it the most convenient time to be having a baby with Noah's exploding career? No, but when was it ever convenient to have a baby. You loved Dot from the pregnancy test you took.

Thanksgiving 2018

You hated your body while simultaneously adoring the bump you had grown over the months. The problem was trying to find clothing that flattered you was impossible. To the point, you stood in front of the full-length mirror in a bright orange cable knit sweater and maternity jeans.

"You look good in Orange.”  Your husband spoke from the entrance of the ensuite.

"I look like a pumpkin Noah." You huffed crossing your arms.

"Pumpkin is the best part of Thanksgiving! You know that." Noah exclaimed pulling you into his chest. He was completely over the moon feeling the firm bump on his abdomen.

"I'm allergic to pumpkin." You emotionlessly spoke staring at the tiny stain on his lazy day shirt. The blue one that brought more vibrancy to the colour in his eyes with the minimal holes in the material. The sweater that mysteriously would reappear in the wash every time you tried to throw it out.

"Okay, gloom and doom we have places to be," Noah spoke yanking his shirt off by the neck of it. Your eyes scanning his excellent form that never failed you arouse you, especially with the pregnancy hormones, to his amusement.

"You know you can't do that!" You whined stomping your foot.

"Sweetheart we really don't have time for-"

"You say, and we won't be leaving until I've had my fill of you." You warned him as he gripped your hand to sit you down on the chair in the foyer.

He kneeled in front of you with your boots, once that fit your swollen ankles, to carefully place them up for you while grabbing the backpack he had lovingly filled with everything he read a pregnancy may need. A pair of flats that were black, a couple of dressy slippers along with some personal hygiene wipes explicitly made for pregnancy to be safe for baby. A few pairs of underwear just in case along with natural lotion and scrunchies.

"I love you." You mumbled looking down at the man that had ruined you for anyone else. All he did was grin up at you with his hands settled on your baby bump to press a lingering kiss to your unborn child.

"God I love you both so much." Noah breathlessly spoke all the while resting his nose against your belly, "I'm going to raise you to know you don't have to be a boy to be a knight in shining armour to save someone. Your Momma was my knight, she saved me from myself when I didn't know I needed to be saved."

"We're going to be late." You choked out as your emotions got the best of you.

Noah helped you get settled in the passenger seat of the SUV he bought mere weeks after learning about your pregnancy. The baby's room had been set up for months now with the door closed permanently to keep the baby's existence a secret. There was something about surprising your family with a joining member that had you keeping your lips sealed.

You were really early at Noah's parents, you traded locations each year for holidays, where they were still out for a while. As you waited in the car, he grabbed the box holding the high chair to set it up at the long dining room table. By the time he finished, you were waddling to the front door intent on getting to the bathroom. You struggled the whole time before coming out to find your in-laws just coming through the entrance.

"Noah!" Kellee exclaimed rushing to pull him into her arms, "I missed you!"

"Mom! You're squeezing too tight." Noah spoke squirming in her arms, "We had lunch a few days ago!"

"Well sorry for missing you." She sighed pushing back, "I still can't believe you bought a house here!"

"Hey, son," Greg spoke pulling him into a quick hug.

"Hey, Dad. We have a question, do you think we have enough room for another person to join us?"

"I guess. We can make room." Your mother-in-law spoke already trying to plan it out, "When are they arriving?"

It was that moment your immediate family walked into the room just hearing the end of her sentence. It seemed no one had noticed the high chair just yet.

"They're here already," Noah spoke with a half smile. You came around the couch that had hidden your stomach just as Taylor's eyes settled on the paper resting against your bump, 'Mommy ate a pumpkin seed'.

"Oh my god."

"Are you?"

"Seven months. Noah thought it would be funny to wear orange and be a pumpkin to announce it."

"Congratulations!" Mom exclaimed yanking you into her arms tightly. She leaned back to gaze down, "How did you keep it from us?!"

"By keeping busy and strategically already sitting in any cafe and the weather is great for baggy sweaters of Noah's." You answered swiftly. They all blinked in shock before crowding closer to ask more questions on the pregnancy.

"When are you due?" Taylor asked sitting on the couch near you. Kellee and your mom barred you from the kitchen with Taylor moving between rooms. Noah was watching some sports game with the rest of the people.

"Mid January." You grinned, "Your brother is best. He had this bag packed of everything. He researched brands of baby clothing and sheets that are the best for baby's skin. The nursery is set up with a bassinet in our room for the first two or three months."

"You're good for him," Tay spoke with a small grin.

"He's good to us." You breathed staring at his glowing complexion. Without knowing the rest of the world believed he was perfect and fought tooth and nail to defend your little family against the haters.

With a gleaming smile, Noah looked over to you holding his phone in his hand as your own pinged in your pocket. Glaring on the screen was simple from Twitter.

@noahcent has mentioned you.

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[thatlesbiannudistcult-stories]

Finding Goddess (Chapter 16)

Carol hummed a cheerful tune as she mopped up the floor. Since coming home, she had spent the last couple hours cleaning the apartment and erasing all evidence of her and Katy's illicit activities, and like everything else she had done at home for the past week, she did it nude. It was such an interesting change of pace doing housework like this. Her breasts jiggled back and forth as she swept up the floorboards, air rushed in between her spreading butt cheeks each time she bent down to pick something up, and the sound of her footsteps changed as her bare soles slapped against linoleum tiles that started off dry and dirty and ended pleasantly damp and clean. It was almost like taking a reverse bath, where instead cleaning her naked body, her naked body was cleaning the world.

"It's been a long time since I did this," she mused. Back when Robert was still alive, she would do everything in whatever home they shared in the buff. She slept in the buff, ate in the buff, read in the buff, watched TV in the buff, and yes, even did domestic chores in the buff. Even back then, she had learned doing something as mundane as sweeping the floor could be turned into a fun activity if it was done without any clothing on. Carol chuckled at the memory of how she used sway her hips playfully and seductively with the broom. Her poor husband couldn't get anything done whenever she got busy.

Carol sighed. She missed those days. They just seemed so liberated and carefree.

In any case, the apartment was clean now, and with a little potpourri or some incense, it would smell good as new. Nobody would have to know what wicked things Carol had done in the meanwhile. Besides Katy of course. And Henrietta. And...whoever else Carol decided to be open about her sex life to. But never Mindy and Erin! They didn't need to know. For their own good.

Thinking about her daughters caused Carol's eyes to stray over to their bedroom door. Was it really as clean as she remembered it being? There didn't seem to be any sign of any lewdness last time she checked, but she couldn't be sure. She had only looked in for a moment.

"Eh, wouldn't hurt to check again."

The room looked just as untouched now as it did this morning. The beds were immaculately made without a single wrinkle to be found in the sheets, the chairs were still upright, and all the various papers, books, writing utensils, and other things the girls kept on their desks were still in place. Mindy's was a little messier, but that was to be expected. If any sexual shenanigans had occurred in here, Carol couldn't see them.

I do wonder though, if they ever got into any sexual shenanigans themselves?

That was one thing Carol was certain she would never know for obvious reasons, but being a mother, she couldn't help but at least be a little concerned about it. Erin had one boyfriend that she was aware of, though Carol hadn't met him yet, and as far as she could tell, Mindy was single. However, it was possible both of them had some secret paramours in the past she never found out about.

Carol wasn't too worried about them getting any unwanted pregnancies. She told them all there was to know about having sex safely and responsibly. She just...hoped that if they were having sex, it was with good people, and that they were ready for it, and that they didn't feel any pressure, and...and...

...And I hope maybe they're willing to experiment with girls.

Ah, girls. If there was one thing Carol regretted more than giving up her nudist lifestyle, it was taking as long as she had to discover, or perhaps just admit to, her attraction to the fairer sex. Because ever since she got her first taste of feminine flesh, rubbed her face between her first pair of breasts, ground herself on her first womanly flower, she couldn't get enough of it. She liked lesbian sex. She loved it. Maybe even more than straight sex. And she wanted her daughters to discover and experience all the wonders of lesbianism earlier than she had because...because...

"...Because it is what the Goddess made us for!" she said clasping her hands to her chest and squeezing her breasts sumptuously.

Carol stopped her ministrations. "What did I just say? No, scratch that, what am I doing? I can't do this in my daughters' room!" Hastily, she scurried out and shut the door behind her, her whole body red as a beet.

"Damn it. I've been putting this off long enough," she said, marching straight to her purse where the Scripture awaited her. "It's time to confront this issue of mine head on and straight from the source!"

She needed to speak to the Zenrists themselves, hear from them just what was going on with her. Carol figured she could easily find a website via a search engine, and from there find a number she could call, but it would save time if she just checked the book for the URL outright.

It turned out the Scripture saved her a few more steps than she thought it would. For while the book's title page did indeed include a URL leading to what she assumed was the Zenrists' home page, it also had a phone number written in pink-colored ink and big loopy characters along with a message saying "Call me! XOXOXO!" The exclamation points were even dotted with hearts.

"Don't tell me this is Celeste's number," she murmured. The woman just seemed so regal and dignified; Carol couldn't even begin to picture her doing something so girlishly corny. "Well, might as well get on with it."

She dialed the number, listened to the rings, and started bracing herself. She needed answers, and if she had to pry teeth out of that woman to get them, so be it. Nothing was going to get by Carol, she was ready to play hardball, and there was no way in hell she'd let herself get swayed by a pretty face—

"I'm here, my love," said the sweet, soothing voice of Celeste on the other line. "Tell me what you need of me."

"Eh heh, heh, heh!"

The sound of the priestess' voice was enough to turn Carol into a puddle of goo on the spot.

"Caroline Connors," said Celeste. Carol stiffened as the woman uttered her name. She could almost hear the Zenrist priestess curve her lips into a gentle and motherly smile.

"How...how did you know it was me?" said Carol who suddenly felt herself tremble all over.

"I recognized your voice," answered the priestess. "I remember every little nectarine sound that dripped from your lips. Every moan you poured into my ear, every passionate cry you gifted to me as I gifted you, every murmur I drank from your throat when we kissed. And what I remember the most, childe...is the way you laughed. Hm-hm-hm-hm-hm!"

Carol could almost feel the whole world around her shake with Celeste's subtle little laugh on the other end of the line. So gentle and comforting...like something she could rock herself to sleep to.

She gulped. "Celeste, I...I...I need help, and I...I don't know where else to turn."

"Then tell me what ails you, childe," said the priestess. "Tell me what is troubling your mind, and I will offer you my guidance."

Carol shivered. For reasons she couldn't explain, she swore she could feel Celeste's arms wrapping around her in a tight, maternal hug. She could feel the priestess rubbing her cheek against Carol's own like an affectionate cat. She could feel the priestess's lips on her ear as she whispered her sweet-sounding words to her. But such a thing wasn't possible; Carol was at home, in her kitchen, a hundred miles away from the brilliant redhead living in the ornate Temple.

"It...it's hard to explain, but the thing is," Carol stammered, having no idea where to even begin. She intended to go into this hard, to demand just what kind of trick the priestess played on her, to treat this whole thing like it was an interrogation. But now that she was here, listening to Celeste's voice, feeling like she was actually in her presence...she couldn't find it in herself to feel angry or accusatory at all. "I think I'm losing control of myself."

So Carol told Celeste all the strange things that had happened to her. All the times she stripped naked without realizing it, all the times she nearly forgot to put her clothes back on, all the times she felt the urge to tear the horrible, hateful things off her body, all the times she felt her lust overtake her or nearly overtake her. She told Celeste everything until she could tell her no more, and only when she finished did Carol realize she was beginning to tear up like a guilt-ridden child.

"There's something wrong with me!" she wept. "Please, Celeste! Tell me what I should do! Because if this keeps up, I think...I think I'll do something I'll regret!"

"My childe," cooed Celeste as her phantom arms tightened around Carol and pulled her ever closer to the priestess. "My poor, sweet childe. There is nothing wrong with you. Nothing at all."

"But...but it hurts me to wear clothes!" said Carol. "What if I can't wear them again? And what if I...what if I get caught somewhere I really shouldn't be naked in? What if I assault some poor girl? What if..."

"There is nothing wrong with you," Celeste repeated much more firmly, firm enough to clam Carol up on the spot. "What you are experiencing, childe, is what every woman experiences as she undergoes her metamorphosis."

"I don't...understand."

"In every person's life, there are periods where they must undergo swift and rapid change within. From wombling to newborn. From newborn to child. From child to adolescent. From adolescent to adult. Every one of these periods of transition are marked by moments of confusion and emotional instability, all brought about from the pain of the body and soul growing so violently and forcefully. Bone pushing and piercing through muscle, humours pumping through the veins, needles clawing out of the skin...to say nothing of your first bleeding and all that comes with it. They are not pleasant experiences, as you no doubt can recall.

"But women like you and I can experience another such change. A change unique to us and no other creature on Earth. A change that elevates us to something greater, to something higher, to something...holy. It is the realization of our own divinity. Have you been studying the Scripture, childe?"

"I...yes, yes I have been," said Carol.

"Then you understand. Woman was created by Zenriah. She bears Her shape, she bears Her form...Woman is in essence the physical manifestation of Zenriah. All that She is, all that She desires. She put much of Herself into our ancestresses when She molded them from the earth countless millennia ago, and we have borne that heavenly spark inside us ever since. You are a part of the Goddess, childe, and She is a part of you. She always has been, since the day you were born.

"The spark is faint in you. It is faint in all of us at first, little more than an ember flickering in the shadows of our minds. But it is there, childe, and it's waiting. Waiting for just the right gust of air to set it aflame once more.

"Unfortunately, most women never experience that gust. They live their whole lives never knowing their true origin, their true potential, their true purpose. They flicker. They fade. They die. And then they are lost forever." For the first time in her speech, Celeste paused, and Carol had the distinct impression that she was wiping a tear from her eye. "But for some, a very select few, they feel that gust. Sometimes it is through a vision. Sometimes it is through a dream. Sometimes, it is through our sacred text. And sometimes...it is because they have spoken and heard the divine language of the Goddess that is an intrinsic part of that flame."

"Divine language?" said Carol.

Celeste continued. "Yes, the divine language. When you and I made love in the grotto, I spoke it to you. I spoke it and you listened. You may not have realized it, but you definitely listened to it. And when you did, I felt it ignite within you, that spark of holy fire! I have a feeling it was always brighter within you, Caroline, more than it is in most women. Which may in part be why you are already so predisposed to our way of life."

"But what does this have to do with my condition?" said Carol, who was feeling awfully dizzy now. None of Celeste's words were making sense to her logically, hell, none of them seemed like they were really answering her concerns, but she still felt compelled to listen to them.

"It is just like that first time you bled," said Celeste. "You felt pain. You felt illness. You felt confusion and maybe fear and maybe anger. You lashed out at yourself, you lashed out at others, you committed reckless deeds you would have never considered before. I need not name the specifics, for it is what we all go through when we enter that tumultuous stage known as puberty.

"What you are experiencing now, childe, is yet another kind of puberty, stoked not by the growth in your body, but by the ignition of that flame in your soul. It burns in you childe, more brightly than you realize, and like every flame, it hungers. It hungers for physical bliss. It hungers for spiritual purity. It hungers for sweet woman flesh. And it hungers for that one thing, that one holy link that it cannot have just yet in your current state. And I have a feeling you've been feeding it quite eagerly. You have been foregoing clothing, yes?"

"I have been. Every chance I get."

"Have you been pleasuring yourself?"

"I...yes. Yes I have."

"Have you been engaging in sapphic pleasure? Desiring its taste again and again and again?"

"Y-yes. Everyday. With Henrietta...and another girl, Katy. And...with others I guess."

"Yes. And of course, you have been reading our Scripture." Celeste laughed again. It was just as comforting as the last chortle, but it also carried with it an almost mischievous tone. "Yes, I see now. No woman would ever be the same under those circumstances. Especially no woman as sensitive as you."

"But...but what do I do?" said Carol. "How do I...stop this?"

"You will learn soon enough, childe," said Celeste. "But not from me. If anyone will help you, it will be those close to you. I recommend you heed the words of your lovers, Henrietta and Katherine, who I believe will be seeing you very soon."

"Seeing me soon?" blinked Carol. "How do you know they'll—"

"I have told you all there is to say," said the priestess. "You will figure out the rest. I promise."

"Wait...Celeste!" It was too late. The phone clicked off, and Carol was once again left to stew in silence.

[thehiddenlawyer]

Fire in the Blood-- Sherlolly with a Twist

Because i love @mel-loves-all and because she gets me (Kleypas, BDB, Sherlock, X-Files....what else?) enjoy the following Sherlolly one-shot featuring a Sherlock Holmes who is...not quite himself. 

Read on Ao3

Adult content and language below, READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED.

Enjoy the twist ending!

If she’d learned anything over the course of her relationship with Sherlock Holmes it was to trust him, and know that if he needed her, he would let her know. They’d been together for over a year now, ever since he’d shown up at her door in the middle of the night after the strange phone call, to tell her that he’d meant it.

That damned phone call…

She stared at her phone now, frowning down at it, her thoughts fluttering around her randomly, thinking that the phone she’d used to answer him was upstairs, still getting used to this new one in her palm. But of course, being with Sherlock meant that the strange texts and phone calls were endless and expected in their unexpectedness.

Like Sherlock texting a few days ago, letting her know he and John were back from their investigation that had led them to some far away Eastern European country she couldn’t name. Her heart had fluttered, her skin heating as she thought about their reunion, warming at the thought of being in his arms, in his bed, taking him into her body…But he’d sent her another text, telling her to stay away from Baker Street and from him for another few days. When she’d asked why, his response had been terse, even in text form.        

So, she’d stayed away, but she had texted John asking what had a happened. He’d been uncharacteristically silent, telling her to wait for Sherlock. Concern had bloomed in her chest, but she’d fought the urge to simply go to Baker Street and break down the door if she needed to. She was patient, but this was day three and she was missing Sherlock, and there was something sacrilegious about Sherlock being in London and her not being able to go to him.

Mind made up, she left her flat, pulling on a jumper as she hailed down a cab, not caring about the late hour, the cold breeze not registering, the full moon barely peaking her interest as it watched her from behind thick, gloomy Summer clouds. Her entire focus was on Baker Street and the man that was there, the man whose skin she craved with a distracted madness she couldn’t quite understand, had never believed she was capable of.

His skin was an addiction, the taste of him an endless desire, a heady urge, a thought, a palpable presence in her life, her need for him an entity that followed her everywhere, a heavy shadow…she had thought that once she knew she belonged to him, that he loved her, that they shared a life, a bed, a breath, she would be able to find some sanity but with each kiss, the addiction became worse, the need an electric currant. Molly knew that if she lived a thousand lifetimes, she would never get tired of the way his ears turned bright red when he orgasmed inside her, the way he could never quite keep his eyes closed when he was kissing her, the way he surged inside her, the expression on his face so intense, so concentrated, the feeling of his breath against her throat as he took her. She would never get the tired of his deep baritone and the breathless way he moaned her name after his orgasm, the way his eyes danced when he called her darling when they were alone…

Sherlock.

She wondered if he was as addictive as heroin, and knew he was worse than caffeine and nicotine...

Just one taste.

Just one hit.

More.

More.

More.

She felt nervous when she got to Baker Street, slightly worried as she paid her fare, wondering why he’d demanded she stay away. Molly faltered in her step, suddenly stopping in front of Speedy’s, terrified as she wondered if he’d started using again. But she quickly dismissed the thought, thinking that John, if not Mycroft, would have told her…right?

Using her key, she went inside the flat, climbing the stairs two at a time and frowning at the door that stood slightly ajar. She stopped on top of the stairs, listening for any sounds from Mrs. Hudson downstairs or for any sound of life from inside Sherlock’s flat. Frowning, something tightening in her chest, making her anxious as she pushed open the door, “Sherlock?” she called, frowning at the darkened flat, the flimsy drapes replaced with heavy burgundy colored ones, the entire place drowning in darkness, “Darling?” she called, thinking that maybe he had started using again.

“What are you doing here?” he asked standing directly behind her, making her jump, wondering how she hadn’t heard his movement behind her, especially with that telltale floorboard a few paces behind her.

“Jesus,” she gasped, “you scared me,” she clutched her chest, turning around to face him, “I—I—” his eyes were so intense, a burning white light, his lips drawn tight, his jaw clenching as he frowned down at her, so imposing, so big. “I got—I was—you see, when you didn’t—”

“Molly,” he interrupted her stammering, impatient with her inability to speak, stepping into her, his skin snow white against the purple of his shirt, the first few buttons undone to reveal his long throat, the red mark on the side of his neck making her frown, “what are you doing here?”

“I was worried,” she told him, dragging her eyes back up to his, swallowing against the fear that suddenly gripped her, feeling as if she were a wounded gazelle caught in the crosshairs of a starving jaguar.

He took another step towards her, his chest flush against her now as he looked down at her, the muscles in his jaw clenching rhythmically as she shivered, thinking it must be her imagination that he was cold to the touch, making her nipples harden as she gasped for breath, “I told you not to come until I told you.”

“I-I know,” she stammered, “but I couldn’t,” she closed her eyes, looking away and felt her thoughts shift and finally flow again, “Sherlock, I had to see you. What’s happening? What aren’t you telling me?”

“I told you not to come,” his voice was a growl, God that baritone couldn’t have gotten deeper, could it? “I didn’t want you here because I didn’t want you in danger. And here you are, charging in as you always do, destroying all my plans.”

“Danger? What danger?” she looked up at him frowning, her thoughts feeling muddled again, as if someone had hijacked her hard drive.

“Molly,” he reached up with his right hand, his fingers shockingly cold as he touched her cheek, his touch light, a whisper, “I need you to leave, right now.”

She shook her head stubbornly, gripping the front of his tight shirt in her fists to emphasize her point, “no,” she breathed, her voice only slightly trembling, “not—not until you tell me what’s happening. What’s wrong.”

Sherlock moved his broad hand down her cheek, his eyes following the movement of his hand as it traced across her jaw before he cupped her throat in his palm, his long fingers nearly completely engulfing her slender neck as she panted. She wasn’t afraid of him, she’d felt this touch a million times, usually with both hands as he leaned into her for a kiss, or even when they stood toe-to-toe to talk. She had the strangest feeling he was taking her pulse, his head slightly tilted, those pale eyes filled with a ferocity that rooted her to the spot, “Sherlock,” she breathed, “tell me. How can I help?”

His smile was tight even as it crinkled the corners of his eyes. Usually when he smiled, that soul searing smile, his mouth would open wide too, revealing his lips as he grinned but why was he keeping his lips tightly drawn over his mouth? She shook the thought away.

“Molly Hooper,” he said softly, “ever my champion.”

She laughed softly, “tell me,” she repeated.

“You’re in danger Molly,” he told her, his thumb stroking over the pulse point on her throat, “you need to run away, as fast as you can, and not look back.”

“What happened?” she grew frustrated, “did you catch some—some infectious disease or something while you were away? You’re acting crazy!”

“You could say I did catch some disease,” he murmured, “what would you do then?”

She blew out a breath, “I’m here aren’t I?”

“Something happened,” he finally told her, “something….unexpected, unnatural. We were—we were chasing a suspect, a woman we thought had killed a long list of lovers. We…followed her and she trapped…me, John escaped, thank God. But uhm,” he shook his head, “and Molly I need you to know that I tell you this after days of rumination and obsessive thought and thorough analyses, I need you to remember that this is me speaking these words.”

“Okay,” she said slowly, watching him closely.

“I believe—” he cleared his throat, his hand still wrapped gently around her throat, his eyes still on her pulse, “I believe I was—attacked by a…vampire.”

“What!” she yelled before she could stop herself.

His chuckle was soft, “I told you to keep in mind the speaker.”

“I know but…” she shook her head.

He tilted his neck to the side, showing her the red mark on his neck, “she was of slight frame, the woman who attacked me. Shorter than you, more petite but I couldn’t shake her off, she held me down with inhuman strength. I’ve never felt anything like that in my life,” his eyes were so sincere, his words clear as were his eyes, and she found herself believing him as she looked at the marks on his throat.

Holy shit.

Two perfect puncture marks, the appropriate width of canines from each other but thicker in diameter, her years of training as a pathologist letting her see that whatever had made the marks had been very sharp before expanding with a downward motion. “She drained me,” he continued, “and—I guess turned me—before John got to us. But it was…it was too late by then. I went through…the change, whatever you want to call it, the metamorphosis, a few hours after that.”

“What….”

He didn’t need her to finish the sentence, “I can’t describe it, it felt as if my entire genetic code was rewritten, set on fire from head to foot, ripped apart only to be sown back together again. When it was done…” he shook his head, letting out a breath, “she was there, with John. I can…hear better, I…can see better,” a smile touched the corner of his lip but he kept his upper lip drawn tight over his teeth, making her heart thunder, “I can hear your heartbeat Molly Hooper, I can see its tattoo against your skin, right here,” he pressed his thumb gently against her pulse, “I can smell your confusion, your concern, it smells like,” he inhaled, “a blend of citrus and…burning plastic. But you’re not afraid.”

Blinking at him, she realized she was twisting his shirt in her fists, wrinkling the material but she couldn’t let go, “you’re—you’re still my Sherlock,” she said matter-of-factly, “so…you’re…you’re a…a vampire now?”

“I don’t know,” he told her honestly, “I was…informed by the…female that turned me, that there are different types of vampires, and that type is dictated by some ancient strain in each individual’s DNA, an evolutionary back door that’s triggered by extreme circumstances. For some, when they are faced with this particular hardship, they become vampires that depend on the blood of others, some survive on energy, some on emotion. And some,” his eyes flipped to hers, “on sex.”

Molly’s mind split into two living, warring entities in that moment. The intelligent part of her mind, the part of her that was emotionally and mentally attached to her Sherlock, that wanted him happy and healthy and whole, that would easily lay down her life for his happiness, was worried out of her wits, simultaneously wondering if he’d lost his mind, if she should take him to a psychiatrist for evaluation, to the emergency ward for brain scans to see if he’d hit his head somewhere. The other half of her mind, her lizard mind, her most basic self that starved for his body, came to life and kept making earnest, heartfelt wishes and prayers that he was the latter type of vampire.

“And—and what do you—” she raised her eyebrows at him.

“If you don’t leave now Molly Hooper, I will consume you,” he told her frankly, “I will keep you in bed for endless days, take your body and your orgasms and sustain myself with you.”

“Oh,” she breathed, “oh,” she repeated, “okay, so you’re…that kind of…v—vampire.”

“You think I’m insane, don’t you,” he laughed softly.

“A bit,” she murmured, “but you’re Sherlock, and you wouldn’t be telling me this unless you’re playing some sort of joke on me, which I know you’re not because you can’t lie to me.”

“I physically am incapable of lying to you, we both know that,” he tight smile was angelic.

“Can I see…Sherlock, open your mouth.”

He took a second, filling his lungs, his pink tongue wetting his lips before he finally opened his mouth and she gasped, leaning against his body for support as she looked at his inhumanly long canines.

Fangs.

Long fangs.

“Holy shit,” she managed to let go of his shirt, reaching up to touch one of them and he held still for her, the tension in his body incredible, as if he thought any twitch of his muscles would send her into a tailspin.

She had a feeling he was right.

“I don’t know what….what am I supposed…to say?” she looked up at him, “you still feel like my Sherlock, you look like my Sherlock, you talk like my Sherlock,” she flattened her palm against his chest, smiling, “your heartbeat still feels like my Sherlock’s.”

“I am your Sherlock,” he told her softly, “and this heart will always be yours, no matter what trouble I get in to.”

Molly chuckled, leaning forward and pressed her lips to the base of his throat, his skin cool against her lips as he reached up with the other hand to grip the back of her head, “I love you,” she told him, finally letting go of his shirt, wrapping her arms around his waist.

“I love you too,” he murmured, and finally, finally lowered his head to her, his lips soft, as cool as his throat as they touched her mouth tentatively, as if waiting for her to run away. When she opened her mouth for him, encouraging him to deepen their kiss, she opened her eyes to see that he was watching her the way he always did, even as he dipped his tongue into her mouth. She moaned as she pushed closer to him, his hard body achingly familiar as she held on to him, running her hands up his back, feeling the power of his shoulders, the muscles beneath her palm.

He pulled away, pressing his forehead to hers, gasping, “will you spend the night with me?”

“Sherlock,” she laughed, sinking her fingers into his hair, “you were the one kicking me out a few minutes ago.”

“That was back when you didn’t know—”

“Shut up,” she told him, and let him lift her off the ground as she wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing him deeply, sucking his tongue into her mouth as he carried her to his armchair, setting her down and kneeling on the floor between her legs.

She had lied to him, she thought as he pressed his open mouth to her throat, her trembling fingers unbuttoning his shirt and pushing it off his shoulders even as he lifted her t-shirt up and off her, tossing it somewhere behind them, his cold palms against her nipples through her bra making her shiver. He did feel different against her, he tasted different. He was still Sherlock but…not at the same time. He felt bigger, more imposing…massive. She had the strange sensation that if she let him, he would overwhelm her completely, take over her entire existence, her being. Enslave her.

When he kissed the inside of her thighs, she watched with breathless anticipation, her fingers sifting through his curls, watching his swollen, red lips kiss the creamy inside of her thighs as she spread herself wantonly for him. She tightened her fingers in his hair as he dragged a long canine over her thigh, watching his pink tongue touch her right there, taste her, enter her so intimately, with such sinful, aching knowing. She arched against him, moaning his name as his clever lips and tongue worked inside her, the pit of her stomach heavy with need, with want. She closed her eyes, letting the sensation flood her as he ate her, consumed her, shook her entire existence.

His voice was deep, garbled, “look at me,” he commanded, and she gasped in shock when she looked down, the pale swirl of greenish blue glowing, “watch me,” he told her, making her scream as he slipped his tongue inside her, as he watched her, as he commanded her to become undone, unglued. She shattered into a million pieces around him, sure that she died as sensations flooded her, as a thousand flames licked her skin just as he licked her.

He made her scream louder as he pulled away, his lips and chin glossy, his eyes holding that unholy glow as he slipped inside her in a single, lithe moment, not letting her settle around his girth as he pumped inside her, pushing inside her with gasps and grunts. She was boneless, collapsing back against the back of the armchair, watching the concentration on his face, watching the powerful muscles in his body grip bone and release with his every movement, her eyes forever finding the scar from his bullet wound.

“Molly,” he gasped, and she lifted herself up again, wrapping her legs around his waist. She always knew when he said her name like that, with undisguised desperation as he drove himself deeper, harder inside her very soul, he needed her to kiss him. And she did, tasting herself on his tongue, shocked as she felt another orgasm lick her spine.

When he sank his fangs into her throat as her second orgasm ripped her reality to shreds, Molly Hooper’s entire world disappeared, reduced to nothing but her love, her Sherlock’s body, his gasps against her throat as he fed from her, as he released all that tension deep within her warmth. Nothing mattered, nothing existed, not even her own screams of pleasure, not the sensation flooding her…just Sherlock. Always Sherlock.

Only you.

He pressed his cheek against her chest as their bodies tried to settle, breathing heavily as she ran her hands through his hair, legs still wrapped around his lean waist. “How often do you need to feed?” she asked quietly, her heart finally slowing down to a normal rate, her skin slick with sweat as she held him in her arms.

“Often,” he turned his face to look up at her, “very often. Imagine me as someone constantly on the brink of starvation Molly Hooper, and you my only sustenance,” his features became dark, the savage beauty of his face cast in the shadows almost frightening in their perfection, “I told you I would keep you in bed for days.”

Molly Hooper’s eyes flew open and she looked up at the familiar ceiling of 221B Baker Street, blinking in confusion as she tried to figure out what she was hearing, finally recognizing the drone of a television. Her hand fluttered down, touching her pregnant belly, feeling the familiar foot that kicked her from within.

“Molly?” a familiar voice called for her, from somewhere to her left, Sherlock’s face coming into view as he frowned down at her, “you alright?” he asked, his voice filled with concern as he leaned down, touching his fingertips to her cheek.

She thought they felt warmer, familiar, “yeah,” she murmured, “what—happened?”

“Dunno,” he answered, “you just went down for a nap after work, you were making all sorts of noise in your sleep. Were you having a nightmare?”

She laughed, holding her hand out for her husband to help her sit up, loving how careful and gingerly he helped her up before sitting on the coffee table in front of her. She rubbed his simple wedding band between her fingertips, looking into his pale, nearly white eyes with hints of blue and green but they weren’t glowing any more. “Open your mouth,” she told him.

“What?” he blinked at her.

“Open your mouth,” she repeated with a laugh, grinning when he appeased her and she saw his normal, white canines where the fangs had been, his skin still palm but warm beneath her touch as she spread his fingers over his chest.

The same familiar heartbeat.

“Should I call the doctor?” he was watching her as if she had lost her mind.

She laughed, shaking her head as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, hugging him, “have I told you how much I love pregnancy dreams?” she asked him, feeling his shoulders tremble with laughter.

[dfroza]

“the time had come to rethink everything.”

because it matters what we think and believe, and what we write and speak. and in Today’s reading we see how God our heavenly Father was heard speaking from Heaven at the baptism of Jesus in the Jordan river. for God speaks as creative Voice. and we have the ability to speak in the same manner, from the space of the heart, even to hold the power of Light (Spirit) transforming the heart itself, to be reborn in the image of the Son, and to be baptized as well.

we have to choose to be in eternal Love.

Today’s reading of the Scriptures from the New Testament is chapter 3 in the book of Luke that shares the True story of this metamorphosis:

Our story continues 15 years after Tiberius Caesar had begun his reign over the empire. Pilate was governor of Judea, Herod ruled Galilee, his brother Philip ruled Ituraea and Trachonitis, and Lysanias ruled Abilene.

In Jerusalem Annas and Caiaphas were high priests in the temple. And in those days, out in the wilderness, John (son of Zacharias) received a message from God.

John brought this divine message to all those who came to the Jordan River. He preached that people should be ritually cleansed through baptism as an expression of changed lives for the forgiveness of sins. As Isaiah the prophet had said,

A solitary voice is calling:

“Go into the wilderness;

prepare the road for the Eternal One’s journey.

In the desert, repair and straighten

every mile of our True God’s highway.

Every low place will be lifted

and every high mountain,

every hill will be humbled;

The crooked road will be straightened out

and rough places ironed out smooth;

Then the radiant glory of the Eternal One will be revealed.

All flesh together will take it in.”

In fulfillment of those words, crowds streamed out from the villages and towns to be baptized by John at the Jordan.

John the Baptist: You bunch of venomous snakes! Who told you that you could escape God’s coming wrath? Don’t just talk of turning to God; you’d better bear the authentic fruit of a changed life. Don’t take pride in your religious heritage, saying, “We have Abraham for our father!” Listen—God could turn these rocks into children of Abraham!

God wants you to bear fruit! If you don’t produce good fruit, then you’ll be chopped down like a fruitless tree and made into firewood. God’s ax is taking aim and ready to swing!

People: What shall we do to perform works from changed lives?

John the Baptist: The person who has two shirts must share with the person who has none. And the person with food must share with the one in need.

Some tax collectors were among those in the crowd seeking baptism.

Tax Collectors: Teacher, what kind of fruit is God looking for from us?

John the Baptist: Stop overcharging people. Only collect what you must turn over to the Romans.

Soldiers: What about us? What should we do to show true change?

John the Baptist: Don’t extort money from people by throwing around your power or making false accusations, and be content with your pay.

John’s bold message seized public attention, and many began wondering if John might himself be the Anointed One promised by God.

John the Baptist: I baptize you with water, but One is coming—One far more powerful than I, One whose sandals I am not worthy to untie—who will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and with fire. He is coming like a farmer at harvesttime, tools in hand to separate the wheat from the chaff. He will burn the chaff with unquenchable fire, and He will gather the genuine wheat into His barn.

He preached with many other provocative figures of speech and so conveyed God’s message to the people—the time had come to rethink everything. But John’s public preaching ended when he confronted Herod, the ruler of Galilee, for his many corrupt deeds, including taking Herodias, the ruler’s sister-in-law, as his own wife. Herod responded by throwing John into prison.

But before John’s imprisonment, when he was still preaching and ritually cleansing through baptism the people in the Jordan River, Jesus also came to him to be baptized. As Jesus prayed, the heavens opened, and the Holy Spirit came upon Him in a physical manifestation that resembled a dove. A voice echoed out from heaven.

Voice from Heaven: You are My Son, the Son I love, and in You I take great pleasure.

At this, the launch of Jesus’ ministry, Jesus was about 30 years old.

He was assumed to be the son of Joseph, the son of Eli, the son of Matthat, the son of Levi, the son of Melchi, the son of Jannai, the son of Joseph, the son of Mattathias, the son of Amos, the son of Nahum, the son of Hesli, the son of Naggai, the son of Maath, the son of Mattathias, the son of Semein, the son of Josech, the son of Joda, the son of Joanan, the son of Rhesa, the son of Zerubbabel, the son of Shealtiel, the son of Neri, the son of Melchi, the son of Addi, the son of Cosam, the son of Elmadam, the son of Er, the son of Joshua, the son of Eliezer, the son of Jorim, the son of Matthat, the son of Levi, the son of Simeon, the son of Judah, the son of Joseph, the son of Jonam, the son of Eliakim, the son of Melea, the son of Menna, the son of Mattatha, the son of Nathan, the son of David, the son of Jesse, the son of Obed, the son of Boaz, the son of Salmon, the son of Nahshon, the son of Amminadab, the son of Admin, the son of Ram, the son of Hezron, the son of Perez, the son of Judah, the son of Jacob, the son of Isaac, the son of Abraham, the son of Terah, the son of Nahor, the son of Serug, the son of Reu, the son of Peleg, the son of Heber, the son of Shelah, the son of Cainan, the son of Arphaxad, the son of Shem, the son of Noah, the son of Lamech, the son of Methuselah, the son of Enoch, the son of Jared, the son of Mahalaleel, the son of Cainan, the son of Enosh, the son of Seth, the son of Adam, the son of God.

The Book of Luke, Chapter 3 (The Voice)

Today’s paired chapter of the Testaments is the 11th chapter of the book of Job that documents Zophar’s address to Job:

Finally, Job’s third friend, Zophar the Naamathite, spoke to Job.

Zophar: Shall such a great volume of words remain unanswered

and a long-winded man be so easily acquitted?

Shall your empty prattle silence people,

and when you mock, shall no one shame you?

You’ve told us, “I have a clear understanding of things,

and I am innocent in Your eyes, O Lord.”

Ah, but I wish God would speak,

that He would address you openly, so I will argue for Him.

I wish He would show you the secrets of great wisdom—

for the two sides of sound wisdom are both found in His mercy and justice.

Know this: God forgets some of your guilt.

Can you see to the unseen side of God,

or explore the limits of the Highest One’s knowledge?

Higher than the heavens—what can you do to reach it?

Deeper than the realm of the dead—what can you know of it?

Its farthest reaches exceed the ends of the earth;

its breadth spans far beyond the sea.

If He passes by, as is His routine, and throws you into prison,

and calls you to testify about what you’ve done, who can challenge Him?

He recognizes worthless people without integrity,

so do you really think when He sees wrongdoing He doesn’t examine it?

As they say, “The empty-headed will become clever

in the day the colt of a wild donkey is born human!”

If you will focus your intentions in His direction

and open your hands and reach for Him,

Where you have guilt on your hands,

if you will send it far away and not tolerate sin in your tents,

Then you will lift up a face clean of all stains;

you will hold your head high, secure, and free of fear.

You will forget all of these troubles of yours;

they will pass beneath your memory like a drop of water that has just flowed away.

Life will become brighter than high noon;

darkness will give way to morning.

Once again, you’ll trust in the presence of hope;

you’ll scan the horizon and sleep safely.

You will lie down, and no one will terrorize you,

and many will long to be in your good graces.

But the eyes of the wicked will grow dark as they lose hope;

they’ll find no escape, and in despair,

they’ll long only to breathe their last dying breath.

The Book of Job, Chapter 11 (The Voice)

my personal reading of the Scriptures for Sunday, April 18 of 2021 with a paired chapter from each Testament of the Bible, along with Today’s Psalms and Proverbs

Today’s message from the Institute for Creation Research

April 18, 2021

The First Day of the Week

“And upon the first day of the week, when the disciples came together to break bread, Paul preached unto them, ready to depart on the morrow; and continued his speech until midnight.” (Acts 20:7)

Given the fact that everything about God’s Word was specifically inspired by its Author, it is appropriate that this important phrase, “the first day of the week,” occurs exactly eight times in the Bible. The first six of these (Matthew 28:1; Mark 16:2, 9; Luke 24:1; John 20:1, 19) all stress the fact that it was on this day that the greatest event in history (since the creation) had taken place. The creation of the universe had taken place on the first day of the week, and now its Creator had conquered sin and death itself on that day. In the Bible, of course, the number “seven” represents completeness, so “eight” represents a new beginning—a new creation, a resurrection.

The last two references tell us just how the early Christians remembered this day. Our text verse tells us this was a day on which the disciples assembled together, had a preaching service, and then “broke bread.” This was not a special assembly called just for Paul, for he had already been waiting there x days (see the previous verse). This was about 25 years after the resurrection itself, and the Jewish believers were evidently still observing the seventh day as a rest day, but then they also observed the first day of the week as the time to commemorate the Lord’s death in “breaking of bread” to celebrate His resurrection and especially to hear the preaching of His Word. The final reference tells us one other vital thing they did: “Upon the first day of the week let every one of you lay by him in store, as God hath prospered him” (1 Corinthians 16:2). The first day of the week should always be a time of remembering Him in these joyful ways, for He is our living Lord and Savior. HMM

[fuckyeahevanrwood]

Evan Rachel Wood Shares The 21 Lessons She Learned In Her 20s

In honor of turning 30 yesterday

I can finally start looking back on my past with a smile on my face because it’s over and I survived.

My brother compares turning 30 with that moment in The Goonies when Sean Astin escapes booby traps and bandits and finds One-Eyed Willy. He walks up to this mythical corpse and the gold treasure he has been searching for and says, “You’ve been expecting me, haven’t you? Well, I made it. I beat you. I got here in one piece… so far.”

I very easily could have been dead in my 20s. I think a lot of people can relate to this. I did not think I would make it this far. So every second is a gift.

I can let my past empower me, rather than define me and my thoughts about myself.

I can stand taller, but more humbled and with less to prove.

My 20s were a really intense time of metamorphosis, loss, love, trauma, and enlightenment. I traveled the world. Met more people than I can count. Sang with my heroes, fell deeply in love, moved across the country—twice. Was engaged to Marilyn Manson. (Remember that? That was weird.) Did well in my career. Earned enough money to live comfortably.

I was also preyed upon, taken advantage of, lied to, raped twice on two separate occasions, forgot who I was for a while, attempted suicide… twice, been through many different kinds of intense therapy, held secrets in for years till I collapsed, came out of the closet, got married, had a baby at home, got divorced, wrote and recorded an album, lost two grandparents, gained two siblings, played the most inspiring role I have had the pleasure of inhabiting, and finally started writing.

All in all, there hasn’t been a dull moment. My 20s have been a wonderful nightmare. My limits have been tested in many ways, and I learned I am much stronger than I ever thought possible.

The greatest lesson I have learned is that there is always more to learn.

I can’t fit everything I have learned in my 20s into this piece, but, in no particular order, here are some tips that really helped me get this far and a reflection of where I am now, as this new decade of possibilities rolls around.

Love, Impermanence, and the Gift of Being Alone I have true friends. I can spot red flags easier, and I am not as much of a martyr when it comes to people and their issues. I have learned that you are no good to anyone if you don’t take care of your mind, body, and spirit first, and that does not make you selfish; it’s essential for a healthy, happy state of mind.

Take time for yourself. I cannot stress this enough. If you can’t sit alone with yourself, you will never be fully content sitting with another person. You will feel on edge, insecure, and like an imposter. You will project an image of what you think someone wants rather than just owning who you are. You will need someone to validate you, and when they fall short of filling up the space you’ve carved out in yourself that only YOU can fill, you will resent them, you will lose them, and the pattern will repeat.

Unless… You learn to be alone with yourself first. Fall in love with YOURSELF first. Be someone you respect. If you truly love yourself, you know that whether or not someone chooses to be with you, you will be okay. You have you, and you love you. You have to know that if someone walks out the door, although it may be painful, you will be alright. Don’t be afraid to rip the band-aid off rather than let the wound beneath become infected.

Letting go is a hard lesson, make no mistake. Goodbyes are the hardest, and nothing lasts forever, it’s an unavoidable part of life. Make peace with it as much as you can. Find the gratitude in every moment, good and bad. Don’t take any moment for granted. Take mental snapshots, real snapshots, journal, have a quiet moment with yourself. Every second you are alive you are living a memory, so let it flow through you. Let the bittersweetness of life fill your body.

Be grateful you can love enough to have a broken heart. Be happy for the sweet memories that will never be undone. See the rebirth in loss as much as you can. Devastating blows can become a time of transformation. Some losses we never fully get over, but you can carry the memories with you everywhere you go. They are a part of you. They make you who you are.

Anger and Asking Yourself Hard Questions Anger is tricky. Anger is deceptive. If you really examine your anger, it’s just pain with cayenne pepper on it. It hurts so bad it burns. If you are angry at someone you don’t even know, please, I beg you, ask yourself why. Really. Ask yourself questions. It sounds crazy, but I gotta tell you, your inner voice is a smart m***********. One of the best tools I ever received was this piece of advice:

When you are in a spin, overwhelmed with emotion, fear, jealousy, heartbreak, loneliness, ANGER, ask yourself two questions: “What am I feeling? And why am I feeling it?” Answer as deeply and honestly as you can.

Even if you aren’t proud of the answer, you can’t change until you admit the problem. This is a conversation we need to have with ourselves. We love ourselves, remember? We don’t judge ourselves. We forgive ourselves, and then we take the next step toward the person we want to be.

You can’t move on or learn the lesson unless you have the awareness to call yourself out on your own shit. Do not be afraid of this. Be proud of this. You are imperfect, and sometimes you are wrong, but so is everyone. You are in good company. Leave your pride and moral superiority at the door. Try to be as understanding as you can, take a breath, and ask yourself questions. Go inward and feel where your body is tense. You hold more stress in your body than you think. Unless you ask yourself where it is, you can’t let it go. Try relaxing every part of your body as much as you can. When something just won’t let go, ask yourself why. This can be more intense than you are prepared for sometimes.

Which brings me to another piece of advice I love: Don’t be afraid of the answer. You may not like what you hear, or you may be incredibly relieved that it’s not as bad as you thought. The stories we tell ourselves and the things we assume about a situation or a person are sometimes 10 times worse than the truth. Be self-aware.

Ask Questions and Ask for Help Don’t be afraid of asking questions—any question, anytime, to anyone. Don’t pretend to know things you don’t. Just ask. If people give you shit, it says more about them than it does you. You have nothing to prove. You are smart for asking questions. We are always learning if we open ourselves up to the things we don’t know. People want to help you. They do. How good do you feel when you impart wisdom onto someone else and it actually helps them? Pretty damn good, right? Like you did something worthwhile? Remember this when you are afraid to ask for help.

Speaking Your Truth and Trusting Your Intuition Learn how to say no, without guilt. Sometimes our answers will hurt people, and it’s hard, but living a lie is harder for all parties involved. Lying to protect people hurts them more in the long run. So tell the truth at all costs. Give people a little more credit about having the ability to understand. Dr. Seuss said it the best, “Be who you are and say what you feel, because those who mind don’t matter, and those who matter don’t mind.”

Say what you mean and mean what you say. Don’t play games. Don’t make people guess. Don’t expect them to know what you need, we can’t read minds… yet. Say. How. You. Feel. and actually say, “I feel...” Not, “You did...” or something else that puts your emotions on another person. It will be received so much better if it comes from your experience rather than a projection of your experience onto someone else.

Now the balancing act. While doing this, also, trust your intuition. After asking yourself the important questions, know when the problem isn’t about you. Learn the red flags for toxic people. Sometimes you learn by falling into the trap. If you are feeling drained of your life force, that’s a red flag. If you don’t know who you are anymore, that’s a red flag. If you constantly walk on eggshells and make yourself smaller to please someone else, that’s a red flag. If your self-worth is placed on another person’s opinion of you, that’s a red flag.

Red flags can be more dangerous than we realize. Sometimes emotional abuse is worse than physical. It’s harder to pinpoint and identify. It’s harder to make sense of, and it’s easier for your brain to lie to itself and tell you it’s something it’s not. Sometimes our minds are so scared of what they see, they want to protect themselves by changing the story to make it less painful. Sort of a censored version. But that can lead to perpetual abuse if we don’t learn to read the signs in others, and in ourselves.

Again, don’t be afraid to let people walk out the door. Don’t stay with an abusive personality because you think that’s the best you can do or you are afraid to be alone.

Texting Never have important conversations over text message. Pick up the phone or meet in person. That’s all I have to say about that. It’s pretty self-explanatory, but it’s serious advice.

Safe Sex Ladies and gentlemen, always carry condoms. Don’t assume the other person has them. And if you want someone to wear one and they don’t, stand your ground. If they can’t respect basic boundaries, it ain’t worth it. You are not a dud for suggesting it, it’s common sense. Especially if you don’t know each other that well. Have safe sex. Don’t feel pressured by anyone. Set a precedent and stand by it. Enjoy your sex. Have as much as you want. But plan accordingly and be responsible and safe.

One more thing: Most people who say they “can’t do it with one on,” will find it miraculously possible to do it if you take sex off the table. So take no shit. Ladies, you especially.

Living in Fear Don’t worry about things being too good. Don’t be anxious because you are waiting for something bad to happen because I got news for you: Eventually, bad things happen. They always do. It’s life. And sometimes we can be so scared of bad things happening, that we unconsciously move toward them. We fumble the ball, we react without thinking, we make rash decisions, we say things we don’t mean. We get in our own way because we are operating out of fear. Everything is temporary, even the good times. So it’s better to be happy and enjoy the moment until the next unexpected bad thing happens, which you will survive—you have survived every bad day so far.

And if you do your best with good intentions, then you can move on with your head held high. You will fail more than you succeed, and if you didn’t learn your lesson the first time, don’t worry, the universe will serve it right back up for round two, three, four, or as many rounds as it takes before the lesson really lands.

A Wise Man Is Silent Make people earn your story. Don’t give yourself to everyone right away. As the saying goes: “A wise man is silent.” Being super fucked-up isn’t what makes you interesting. It’s a part of a much bigger picture, so don’t be a slave to your war stories. Make people earn them. Talking and talking about yourself doesn’t leave a lot of room for listening. So listen. Really listen. Don’t wait for your turn to talk. Listen to people. Have those close friends you trust that you can vent to, but make sure you give them the same in return. The energy you put out will find its way back to you. Trust in this.

Apologies Say you’re sorry and mean it. Say it without expecting anything back. We can’t fix people or right their wrongs for them, so never expect an apology in return. All you can do is take responsibility for your own actions. Don’t expect them to forgive you, but be grateful when they do. Don’t give any gift expecting a certain outcome. You give it out of the kindness of your own heart to make someone feel appreciated and that’s it. How they receive it, is not up to you and unimportant. The gift of giving is always enough.

Dancing Dance. Every day.

Singing Sing in the shower. Sing in the car. Play your music loud every now and then. Oh yeah, and dance.

Forgiveness This was one of the hardest lessons for me. I learned that you must forgive. Forgiveness doesn’t mean forgetting. It doesn’t mean you accept just anyone back in your life, and it doesn’t absolve someone of their sins. It’s actually for you. It’s to free you from the anger you carry, which will eventually become poison. You don’t punish people by staying angry, you only punish yourself.

Forgiveness is really just understanding. Try to find yourself in people as much as you can, that’s where forgiveness starts. If you do choose to forgive someone and keep them in your life, you cannot punish them for the same crime forever. Forgiving someone and keeping them around means you move on. Let go. It’s not fair to all the imperfect people in the world—which is everyone—to hold a mistake over someone’s head indefinitely to use as ammo when you need it. You’re on a power trip. Step off.

Success and Money Success is a perfect storm. It’s a mixture of luck and skill. It isn’t always fair, but if you achieve it, make sure you don’t get caught up in the “things.” The “things” are the objects you fill your life with. Useless things that make you feel good for a second, and then it’s on to the next “thing.”

The “image” of success isn’t always real. Material possessions, excess, luxury… these will not make you truly happy. They might be fun for a minute, but you can be in a room filled with people and still feel alone. You can have all the money in the world, but it won’t make you love yourself. There is always a level higher up, and you will never reach the top. Success is sometimes like getting to the peak of a mountain and then realizing there is another mountain waiting for you. It will never feel like enough; it is not required to make you love yourself. It’s a bonus if anything.

Be grateful for where you are at every moment. Sometimes the journey is the best part, and you don’t realize it till its over. Does money make things easier? Absolutely, and I wish everyone had access to enough that gave them their basic needs. I honestly can’t imagine where I would be without the privilege and the means to get the help I needed when I needed it, and it pisses me off that everyone doesn’t have a fair chance. That being said, the balancing act continues. Don’t be afraid to enjoy your success. Don’t let people’s bitterness and judgment make you feel bad for doing well. They don’t know your story, and you deserve to be happy. “Smile, all the world’s problems aren’t your own.”

Open Your Doors Open your doors to people when they are struggling. Make them some food, give them some tea, give them a place to rest, listen without judgment. Be a safe haven. Sometimes that’s all we need—a place to rest our head for a short while.

Don’t worry about what you have to offer. People actually need very little to be comforted. Don’t overthink it. Just open your heart and your ears. Don’t try to fix everything. Sometimes all we need to hear is, “That sounds really hard.”

Read Read. If you can’t read or don’t have time, get Audible, get a book on tape, just have people spewing out knowledge to you whenever you can. Wash the dishes, listen to a book. Take a drive, listen to a book. Watch documentaries, and learn other people’s stories, gain some perspective. Even if you don’t catch every word, your subconscious will. Learn psychology! It’s the study of you and your brain, and it’s priceless information. It will give you great insight into yourself and others, but (balancing act) don’t overanalyze. No two people are the same.

Here are a few books that changed my life. Games changers, all of them. A lot of what I say here are the opinions I got through trial and error, but they’re mixed with regurgitated, extremely helpful advice I got from one of these books.

1.The Four Agreements, Don Miguel Ruiz 2. Conversations with God (I, II, III), Neale Donald Walsch 

3. The Power of Now, Eckhart Tolle 4. The Prophet, Khalil Gibran 5. Oh the Places You’ll Go, Dr. Seuss

Carry these with you when you can.

Travel If you can, travel. Don’t put it off, just pull the trigger. Someone invites you to a weekend getaway, say yes. Road trip? Say yes. Last minute trip out of the country? Say YES! You have to get your butt out the door and actually go.

Our Thoughts Become Reality Tell yourself good things about yourself. This one is actually really hard. Why do we feel so silly giving ourselves compliments but welcome the bad thoughts no problem? Your thoughts shape your world, so make ’em good. Practice this every day. Eventually, you will retrain your mind. How you feel about yourself becomes your truth—period. So steer your thoughts in a positive direction, everything else will follow.

Patience and Faith When things are hard, when you are so low you can’t get up, remember everything is temporary, even the bad times. Have faith that you will get up again. You will get up again.

Parenthood Becoming a parent made me see my parents completely differently. They are their own imperfect people with their own story. Parents fuck up, all the time, But being a parent is the hardest, most amazing thing a person can go through. It’s not for the faint of heart. It triggers you, brings up old patterns and repressed memories. All we can do is work on ourselves as much as possible before your children come into your life. Then, grab onto something, ’cause you are in for a wild ride. Becoming a mom is the best thing I ever did with my life, but it’s not for everyone. It’s harder than you think and you are never ready, but it will open up your heart in ways you never thought possible.

Divorce I was going to write a long messy thing about this, but it’s really for another time. Divorce felt like dying. Like my dreams were ripped out of my heart and trampled on. It was an out-of-body experience and the worst heartbreak I have ever gone through. The hardest thing I had to learn and accept was that sometimes, despite what we have been told, love is not enough. But when I look at my life now and imagine how things would have been different had I stayed married, I can’t say I would have the heart to change anything. I rest easy knowing that I had love, real love, for a short while. So, just listen to the LCD Sound System song “I Can Change.” It sums up marriage and divorce pretty damn well.

Dream Every day. Every chance you get. Dream big. Dream without limits and let go of all that fear of embarrassment. Let go! Jump in. Whatever project you are thinking about, start it. Just start. Start somewhere. Get better little by little until you are flying. Get lost in your thoughts. Learn how to manifest. Dream as much as you can. Everything starts off as a dream before it becomes reality. Don’t wait for opportunities to come to you. Make your own things. Believe in yourself. Sometimes you gotta be the one to make the move. To quote Almost Famous: “Be bold and mighty forces will come to your aid.”

All of this advice is much easier said than done, but everything is easier said than done. It’s whether or not you are willing to do the work. It’s all a balancing act. So just use your best judgment and learn from mistakes. That’s all I got for now. See you in 10 years.

Shine on, ERW

[rosemaidenvixen]

You are my Sunshine

Chapter 9: Ten

Ao3

Barbara had to tiptoe to get the last sticky note on top of the ceiling fan. It was pretty far out of the way, but Jim had specifically told her he wanted it to be extra hard this year.

Right on time the doorbell rang, Barbara darted over to get the door. When she opened it Nancy Domzalski’s smiling face greeted her.

The elderly woman proffered up a large baking dish covered in foil “I made a casserole, I figured the boys could use something to balance out all that sugar,”

“Thanks, come on in, the bus will drop them off any minute,”

Nancy stepped inside and handed over the pan “Just turn on the oven and put the casserole in. No need to bother with preheating, it’s already fully cooked so it just needs warmed up,”

“Got it,”

Nancy got comfortable on the couch while Barbara went into the kitchen to pop the casserole in the oven. Right as she stood up from sliding the pan in, she saw the bus pull into the cul de sac through the window. Almost immediately after it came to a stop, a werewolf and a zombie jumped off and ran up to the door.

“Trick or treat!” the zombie shouted while letting himself in.  

“That’s not til later Toby,” the werewolf corrected.

Nana pulled herself off the couch and greeted the two with a hug “Did you boys have fun at school today?”

“Yep,” Jim answered for both of them “Each class made a jack-o-lantern and did math with the seeds, then we had our Halloween party!”

“Check out our loot!” Toby said proudly while holding up a large plastic bag, practically bursting with candy.

“That’s quite a bit of candy, especially considering you went to the trunk or treat last Saturday,” Nana was clearly of the opinion that the amount of sweets had crossed the threshold into too much “Maybe you should donate some this year,”

The boys exchanged panic-stricken looks while protectively clutching their bags.

Seeing their horrified reactions to the thought of a few less Nougat Nummies drew a chuckle out of Barbara.

“It’s your candy boys, you can do what you want with it,” she joined them in the living room and held out a sticky note “Now why don’t you get started on the scavenger hunt,”

Jim gleefully snatched up the offered note “ Your next clue is hidden somewhere bread goes in, but doesn’t come out ,”

Toby’s face instantly lit up “I know, the toaster!”

And with that, they were off, racing eagerly from clue to clue while dragging Barbara and Nancy in toe. Twice Barbara had to make them stop so that poor Nancy could catch her breath from all the scurrying back and forth.

After what seemed like hours of going from note to note, but was probably closer to forty minutes, the boys found the final clue stuck on top of the ceiling fan.

Toby read it this time “ I’m cold and hot and warm, and I spin around and around ,”

They struggled with this one for longer than the others. After a few minutes of puzzling over it Jim gave her a beseeching look “Can we get a hint Mom?”

“Let’s see,” Barbara tapped her chin and made a show of thinking it over

“ Please  Dr. Lake,”

“Ok,” she relented “The part that’s hot and cold and warm is water,”

It only took them a few seconds to put one and two together.

“The washing machine!” Toby cried out.

They made a mad dash to the basement door and sprinted down, taking the stairs two steps at a time.

“Slow down boys,” Barbara said while following them into the basement, albeit at a far more relaxed pace, with Nancy just a few steps behind her “It’s not going anywhere,”

The boys had already pried open the washing machine lid and pulled out their prize; a plastic cauldron containing DVDs of scary but age appropriate movies and full size candy bars.

“Awesomesauce!”

“This is the greatest!” Jim gushed “Thanks Mom,”

“Thank you Dr. Lake,” Toby parroted.

“You’re welcome,” Barbara gestured to the elderly woman behind her “Don’t forget to thank Nana, she got you the DVD’s,”

Toby and Jim dutifully recited their thanks to Nana before running upstairs, did they really have to do  everything  at a breakneck pace, to make simultaneous use of the candy bars and movies.

Barbara made to follow them, only to be stopped by a gentle hand on her shoulder. She turned to face Nancy, who looked troubled, but determined.

“Barbara, can we talk?”

A nest of butterflies burst to life in her stomach.

The melancholy look on Nancy’s face, waiting until the boys were gone, isolating the two of them in the basement. She had a feeling this was not going to be a light, casual conversation.

“Oh….ok,” she leaned back against the banister while Nancy took a seat on a box of old textbooks “What’s going on?”

Nancy let out a deep breath “I want you and Jim to go trick or treating with us this year,”

Barbara stood rooted to her spot, paralyzed by dread and desperate not to show it.

This was exactly the conversation she did  not  want to be having.

Nancy continued “I know how much you must want to keep Jim close to you, to keep him safe, especially after losing his father,”

Barbara opened her mouth to refute that statement only for the elderly woman to hold up a hand, effectively silencing her before she could get a word out “I know, you didn’t lose James the way I lost Ralph, but loss is loss,”

“Nancy….”

“Doing this by yourself is hard, and believe me, I understand the urge to hold him tight and keep him from ever being hurt,” she looked desperately into Barbara’s eyes “But being cloistered and protected from everything….that’s no way to live,”

Nancy’s next words cut her deeper than any knife ever could.

“So please, come with us tonight,”

Barbara couldn’t speak; throat closed off with emotion, she kept staring down at the basement floor as if it held all the answers to her problems. It took every last drop of her concentration to keep her facial expression and body language neutral. She wasn’t completely successful, the cool, wet sensation on her palm told her that fist had tightened to the point her fingernails had broken the skin.

If only she knew.

Sometimes Barbara almost managed to convince herself that Jim’s blue form existed in its own bubble, confined to regular hours with no impact on the rest of their lives. It was only when incidents like this happened that the ugly truth was forced back into her face.

Jim’s nightly metamorphosis sent out ripples that affected every aspect of their lives. Everything they did revolved around keeping his transformation a secret. These unusual routines did not go unnoticed. Others saw how they lived, and recognized it for what it was, abnormal.

Nancy wasn’t the first person to approach her about her supposed overprotectiveness of Jim. Hell, she wasn’t even the first person to imply that she did it due to baggage from her  dearly  departed ex-husband.

As much as it stung her pride, as much as Barbara yearned to scream that she hadn’t given that bastard a thought in years….it was too damn convenient.

If people assumed they knew the truth, that Barbara kept her son close due to abandonment issues from being left by James, they wouldn’t dig any deeper.

It made her burn with shame every time someone suggested it, but it was safer than the alternative. If she corrected them they might start looking into why exactly Barbara Lake never let her son out at night. And that could lead to someone finding out she left her ten year old home alone for hours on a regular basis. That would bring in social services and CPS investigations and police. And somewhere down that line, Jim’s blue form would be discovered.

And that would open up an even uglier can of worms.

Barbara raised her head, forcing herself to look Nancy in the eye.

It wasn’t that she mistrusted the elderly woman, far from it. Ever since Nancy had moved in across the cul de sac, she had been a constant source of comfort and companionship to Barbara. They shared a connection as two women who unexpectedly found themselves raising children without any other family to help. Barbara considered Nancy one of her closest and dearest friends.

But there were certain aspects of people that never came to light until they were put through trial by fire.

Barbara wanted so badly to believe that Nancy would continue to be the kind, generous woman that she was upon learning about Jim’s metamorphosis, but she couldn’t gamble his safety on the alternative.

She gave Nancy a small smile, hoping it didn’t look as forced as it felt

“Thank you for the offer, but my answer is no, Jim and I will be spending Halloween at home the way we always do,”

There was no explosion following her refusal, no debating or bargaining.

Nancy didn’t look sad or angry or even surprised; just disappointed, so very disappointed.

“Alright,” she said in a voice that was barely above a whisper “But maybe next year?,”

“Maybe next year,” Barbara replied, knowing full well her answer would be the same next October.

Deep down, she thought Nancy knew that to.

They trudged up the basement stairs in silence, emerging to the joyful noise of the boys wolfing down their candy bars over the sound of the DVD they had started.

In an effort to maintain a casual mood, Barbara went into the kitchen with Nancy to pull out the casserole. They managed to get the boys to each have a serving of the dish before they went straight back to gorging themselves on candy.

Meal complete, Nancy poured them two cups of tea and the two women started making idle conversation. It almost felt like one of the many casual evenings the Lakes and Domzalski’s spent together, almost.

A barrier had gone up between Barbara and Nancy, like a sheet of glass separating the two women. And as much as she wanted to remove it, Barbara knew that to take down the glass would be to risk her son’s life.

She kept one eye on the clock at all times, and soon enough, it was fifteen minutes to sundown and the credits were rolling on the boys’ movie. Time to send the Domzalski’s on their way.

Barbara stood up and went into the living room, picking up the remote to halt the scrolling credits “Alright guys, it’s been fun, but now it’s time to wrap things up for the night,”

Protesting only slightly, Jim and Toby gathered up the spoils from their school party and scavenger hunt and soon Barbara was escorting the Nancy and Toby to the front door.

“Thanks for coming over tonight, be sure to have fun trick-or-treating,”

“Happy Halloween Dr. Lake,” Toby gave a quick wave goodbye before dashing out onto the sidewalk, already eager to get a head start on his trick or treating.

Nana still lingered by the door, she placed her hand on the frame before Barbara could shut it “Come with us,” she begged “Both of you. Please.”

The only reason Barbara was able to keep her emotions in check in that moment was years of practice.

“Have a good night Nancy,” she shut the door, slowly but firmly.

She waited a few seconds, to make sure that they had walked away and weren’t still standing right outside, before sliding the deadbolt into place.

Barbara let out the breath she didn’t know she’d been holding. Another holiday over and done with no incident.

She didn’t know whether to be relieved that the song and dance was over, or dejected that that’s what holidays had become to them.

The sound of the Gun Robot theme song saved her from deciding. Jim had put on cartoons and was still tucking into his candy, no doubt to take his mind off the fact that he was going to spend the rest of Halloween alone. Figuring she was in need of a distraction herself, Barbara went into the kitchen to clean up the casserole dishes.

A few minutes later she heard Jim call out from the living room.

“Mom….I need help,”

Jim was fairly independent for his age, asking for help like this meant that he was really in a fix. Dropping what she was doing, Barbara went into the next room to see what the problem was.

Jim was still sitting on the couch in his werewolf costume, only now it didn’t appear to fit the way it should.

“Did you get stuck in your costume after you changed?”

“Uh huh,”

So that was the issue, Jim had transformed while he was still wearing his costume and now it he couldn’t get out of it on his own.

“Hold still honey, I’ll give you a hand,”

The shirt and gloves came off easy enough, but the straps of the mask had gotten tangled up in his horns. For a while she thought that she might have to cut them to get it off, but eventually she was able to detangle it.

Barbara took note of Jim’s horns as she smoothed his hair. The tops of them were peeking out of his hair now, and if she wasn’t mistaken they were starting to thicken and develop a slight curve as they grew.

At this point it was anyone’s guess what shape they’d be by the time Jim stopped growing

“All better kiddo?”

“....yeah….,” Jim replied while looking glumly down at his candy, now rendered inedible, effectively ending the holiday for him.

Or so he thought.

Barbara smirked “That’s good because I have one more surprise for you,” going over the closet, she reached in and pulled out a large gift bag.

“Here you go,”

Wide eyed, Jim tore into the bag and pulled out a pair of heavily used work boots. A jubilant smile spread across his face “Cool Mom, Thanks!”

In a move that surprised her, Jim reached around to the floor on the other side of the couch, picking up a ziploc bag full of butterscotch and Kit Kats, her personal favorites, and held it out in her direction.

“These are for you,”

Moved by his generosity, Barbara tried to graciously decline “Jim, that’s your Halloween candy--”

“And I can do what I want with it,” he continued holding out the bag, determined that she take it.

Barbara knew when she was beaten “Thank you Jim,” she accepted the bag “Do you want to start another movie?”

“Yuh huh,” he mumbled past the steel toe now wedged between his teeth “Ocus Pucus,”

Barbara popped the DVD into the player and sat back on the couch with Jim reflexively curling up against her side. She put an arm around his shoulders and gave Jim a gentle squeeze “Happy Halloween kiddo,”

The opening credits started to roll, Jim finished chewing and swallowed the steel toe of the boot, “Happy Halloween Mom,”