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carlisles-girl · 3 years

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OMG UR CAIUS FIC WAS SO GOOD COULD YOU DO SOMETHING AB ARO PLEASE

a/n: Thank you so much! I’m very excited to write for Aro, he’s one of my favourite characters, more so because of Michael Sheen’s performance. I put a slight reference to something in this, you might catch it if you know other projects Michael Sheen has been in, but you might not, and that’s alright. Hope you enjoy <3

another a/n: I did put one or two feminine terms in this work, such as ‘mia regina’ which is ‘my queen’ in Italian, so do skip over it or replace it with something else if you’d like. I love writing this type of material in the middle of my classes, it adds so much adrenaline to not get caught.

Aro Volturi With A Human Mate

Instead of being angry and frustrated like Caius, Aro was more excited.

Like as if he was getting ready for a big party.

A human for a mate was inevitable for some vampires, of course, but Aro didn’t expect to be included in the some.

He was excited since it was rare for such high profile vampires to socialize with humans.

Aro often gushed to his brothers, excited to meet you, but also for them to meet you.

He wanted to host a ball for your welcome.

But Marcus noted that it would probably be slightly frightening for you to be in a room full of vampires.

Most of the vampires would look at you as if you were some sort of a snack.

Because it Marcus’ comment, Aro assumed it would be a greater choice to send an invitation to a tour of the castle.

Free of cost, of course.

When you had received the invitation, you were beyond excited.

An invitation to a tour of an ancient castle with endless legends, for free?

Absolutely.

The tour was the next day, so of course you were slightly nervous.

When the tour commenced, a very pretty woman named Heidi lead the tour group.

She began to speak of secrets of the castle, as well as secret corridors and legends.

Some things a normal tour guide would most likely have no idea about.

Heidi then looked in your direction, and smiled brightly at you.

“It’s very lovely here. I’m sure you’ll love it.”

Just when she had finished her sentence, she opened the doors where there were three men sitting in thrones, and what seemed to be 4 guards.

The man who sat in the middle, greeted everyone and began speaking greatly of the castle.

He had only stopped when he motioned for your tour guide, Heidi, to come forward.

She did as told, and held her hand out towards him.

You would have thought it was to greet him, but it seemed like he was concentrated, or zoned out.

“Magnifico! I will get Demetri to escort them.” (Translation: “Magnificent! I will get Demetri to escort them.”

A man who you assumed was Demetri, walked in your direction.

“Come with me, all will be alright, rest assured. However, do not look behind you.”

You went with him, doing as he said, but immediately turned around when the rest of the tour began screaming.

“What the hell was that?!”

Demetri just grabbed your wrist and brought you upstairs.

“Just stay in here, I’ve been instructed to keep you under my eye. Aro will explain everything to you.”

“Aro?”

“The man who sat in the middle throne.”

You nodded, and decided to sit on one of the window seats.

You wanted to ask Demetri as many questions as you wanted to, but you didn’t want to bother him, or disrupt him from his job.

When the door had opened and Demetri bid his farewells, you had turned around and saw Aro.

“You must be Y/n, correct?”

“Yeah, and you’re Aro?”

“I am, I assume you have a good amount of questions?”

You nodded, and Aro moved swiftly but smoothly towards the opposite side of the window seat.

“May I?”

“Of course.”

He sat opposite to you, and smiled slightly at you.

“There’s no need to be afraid of me, or the others. You’re the most safe you could ever be in the castle. I promise you, I will keep you safe.”

“May I ask why the rest of the tourists were screaming when I left?”

“I sense that that question should be answered later, appropriately.”

You were slightly frightened as to what the final answer would be, it could be anything.

Perhaps there was a reenactment of the past after you had been escorted, one of the tourists got pushed and the rest screamed since one of them fell, or the worst:

They were murdered.

“I feel like I already know what happened.”

“I sense that you do know, too. I will tell you everything in a moment. But for now, would you care to lend me your hand?”

You trusted Aro, though you were positive your ancestors were screaming from above or below not to trust him.

You held your hand out in front of him, and before he held your hand in his own, he asked for permission or something else.

“I want you to think of the happiest memory you have stored in your mind, I will describe it to you. I will not see anything else besides the things you want to show me, unless I have your permission.”

You thought of a memory, and then placed your hand in Aro’s palm.

He covered the back of your hand with the palm of his other hand, then he began telling you small details of your chosen memories you had even forgotten about.

When he was finished, he brought his head up from looking down, and smiled at your face of bewilderment.

“That is so cool! Is that like your superhero power?”

Aro smiled widely at your interest in his gift, and began explaining what his was.

“I have a gift, it’s called tactile telepathy. I can read everyone’s thoughts and memories with a single touch. The others in this coven have multiple different gifts, they help keep us safe.”

“So you’re all like superheroes?”

“Vampires, darling.”

After that, Aro enjoyed seeing your memories whenever you two were apart for some sort of time.

Especially say you were having a difficult time attempting to explain something to him, he would hold your hand and immediately understand what you were trying to say.

“I understand you, cara mia. I always will.”

And he was right, he understands you in every way possible.

Aro memorized your body language on how you react to different things, as well as your facial expressions.

When you’re uncomfortable with something, he will do absolutely everything in his power to make you comfortable.

Aro will burn down the entire world for you.

When it’s time for you to go to sleep, you best believe that Aro set up the most lavish and comfortable room for you.

The best and most comfortable bed, of course.

You lay down on his chest, and he brushes the hair out of your face, admiring your tired eyes looking back at him.

“Would you like for me to read to you, dearest?”

You nodded your head, and Aro would get up from wherever he was seated, swiftly retrieve a book, lay back down next to you, and begin reading.

He loved having you hold his hand while he read, it lets him see what you’re imagining the scene that he’s reading to you.

And when you fell asleep while he was reading, he would be so very content.

You curled up next to him, sound asleep on his chest.

Aro adored seeing what you were dreaming.

He loved how humans brains worked while they were sleeping, keeping your mind entertained with multiple little scenarios.

When you woke up, however, Aro would prefer to have you describe your dreams, if you remembered them.

He loved to learn more about humans, especially in the modern age.

And you loved to learn more about vampires, especially in the ancient times.

Aro would often tell you stories of each coven he encountered, his old family and friends, and his past human life.

As much as he wants you to be changed into a vampire like the rest, he can’t help but smile whenever you got slightly nervous around him, stuttering over your words, and hiding your face with your hands out of embarrassment.

He pays attention to little details about you.

Especially your eyes.

Even the shade of your eyes stops him from changing you. Your eyes wouldn’t be as unique anymore, they’d be the same red as everyone else’s.

“You have the most magnificent shade of colour in your eyes, mia regina. I simply cannot get enough of them.”

Being absolute best friends with Demetri.

But wherever Demetri was, Felix wasn’t too far behind.

You three are like a troublemaker trio, always causing trouble and pulling pranks on different members of the guard.

Never Jane or Alec, though. Unless it was a scheduled board game night or something along the lines.

Which Alec loved to take away different players senses, allowing him to cheat in the games you’d play.

He doesn’t do it all the time, though.

Marcus was a lot more welcoming towards you, perhaps more than anyone else.

Whenever Aro couldn’t, he’d show you different areas of the castle you hadn’t seen yet, and would give you wonderful pieces of advice along the way.

“Remember to stay true to yourself, never let anyone think for you.”

Aro will spoil you insanely.

If you mention a specific piece of clothing even once, you better expect that when you wake up the next morning, Aro has an elegantly wrapped package placed at the foot of your bed with a note written in fine handwriting.

“Mia amato, I have seen you speak of this article of fabric, and I have gone out of my way to make sure you have every little thing you admire. I need you to be the happiest you can possibly be. Please accept my gift, and meet me by the gardens by noon. I’ll see you then. Cordialmente, Aro.”

You two have annual walks throughout the garden, usually during golden hour. The sun still above, but setting at the same time, making it seem like Aro was made of a trillion Tiffany Yellow Diamonds.

He loved finding a flower that suited your mood for the day, and putting it behind your ear.

“My beautiful.”

You two often walked either arm in arm, or hand in hand, but sometimes you would hold him closer with your arm wrapped around his waist, your head leaning on his side or shoulder.

Often times, when the moon is visible, you would slow dance together, looking at each other with smiles on your faces, just appreciating each other’s presence.

Usually, Aro would come back into the castle around 2 in the morning, carrying your sleeping self up to your shared room, after you had fallen asleep on his shoulder while sitting in the garden.

The rest of the kings and guards would be predominantly more happy than from before you had arrived.

You had given Aro something to look forward to after trials and mountains of work, something he didn’t have for hundreds of years.

Though, Caius was still slightly jealous of you.

You had practically stolen one, if the not the most, needed member of the vampire world. Aro was nearly as focused on you than he was on trials and legislature.

He’d warm up to you eventually.

At least, you hoped.

Speaking of trials, you wanted to sit in and watch the trials, to see what it was about, and how it worked.

You knew the most of it, of course, Aro had already told you. But you wanted to see it live.

Aro was quick to say no, he didn’t want you to get hurt, or worse, killed.

He understood what would happen to him if his mate was killed, Marcus was the example. He couldn’t even bear the thought of you not being by his side.

Though, you owning the key to his heart, convinced him to let you watch, letting both Jane and Alec stay on either side of you, protecting you if anything were to go wrong.

You would usually sit on Aro’s lap, and then the throne when he had to see what was truly going on by using his gift.

Jane usually stood on the left of the throne, and Alec on the right.

Mainly since Caius sat on the throne in the left, and Jane loved to torture the criminals.

He loved the front seat view.

Constant look backs of reassurance to make sure that you’re alright.

Nearly always having your hand in his.

Forehead kisses.

Constantly bringing the back of your hand up to his lips.

Getting the absolute best care in the world, health wise especially.

When Aro proposed, it was in the bedroom the both of you share, and he was reading some poetry to you.

All was going swell, and then he got to one page.

“I can write no stately poem

As a prelude to my lay;

From a poet to a poem

I would dare to say.

For if of these fallen petals

One to you seem fair

Love will waft it till it settles

On your hair.

And when wind and winter harden

All the loveless land.

It will whisper of the garden,

You will understand.”

At the end, you were leaned up closer to him, looking at him in awe.

He closed the book, and placed it aside gracefully, before leaning slightly closer to you. Placing his hands overs yours.

“Do you remember who wrote that, cara mia?”

“I do. That’s Oscar Wilde, right?”

“That’s right. There’s so much I want to say to you, especially in this particular moment, but I don’t think there’s enough words to express my love and affection towards you. I’ve known you for a little while, and I can feel the bond between us, and I know you can feel it, too. The universe has guided us together, and I am so very thankful for every second we have spent together, and I’m even more thankful for the rest of eternity we have. However, I am the most thankful of the fact that I have the most gorgeous human as a mate. I love you so much, anima mia. Will you do me the best thing that could ever happen to me in my thousands of years, and marry me?”

You said yes, obviously, who wouldn’t?

You leaned over to press your lips against his, as he held one side of your face with one hand, and the other hand slid a ring on your ring finger.

While Aro wanted an extremely lavish wedding, with all the diamonds in the world, you wanted something more of a homely essence.

So you compromised, and had a bit of both.

Aro invited nearly every vampire to the wedding, wanting to show you off in every way he could.

The Denali’s, Cullens, Irish coven, everyone was invited.

Except for the Romanian coven, Vladimir and Stefan. Not trusting them to be in your presence.

The wedding was held in the garden, the arch where Aro stood had your favourite flowers intertwining around it, with diamonds pressed in the centre of each individual flower.

Demetri walked you down the isle, smiling proudly when he handed you over to Aro.

Proud that his leader had finally found true love, and that one of his best friends is finally where they need to be.

After the official wedding ceremony, the rest of the night and day were spent smiling and showing off each other to the guests.

When the night ended, it was finally time for you to be changed to a vampire.

Aro sat by the bed were sitting on, making sure that you were absolutely ready to be converted to a vampire for the rest of eternity.

“Are you ready, my darling?”

You nodded your head, and Aro took one final look into your coloured eyes, attempting to remember every small detail of them.

Aro then moved your hair away from your neck, before placing his lips over where he would finally bite down and turn you immortal.

“Just say when, and I’ll see you after.”

#twilight x reader #twilight preferences #twilight #twilight imagine #aro volturi #aro twilight #volturi preferences #volturi kings #aro #volturi #aro volturi imagine #aro volturi x reader #aro volturi oneshot #twilight aro #volturi oneshot #volturi imagine

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dickwheelie · 3 years

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Uhm, I don't know if you're still taking requests, of course you can just, not do it, but I was thinking, maybe jon touching star!Martins face littered with stars for the first time? 👉👈

this is based on @flamingfinch's and @tired-dummy's star!Martin au which you can find more of on their blogs :) I loooove writing about this dude so this was a great request to get, thank you Teo and I hope you enjoy!

_____________

Most of the time, Martin looks at least passably human. Perhaps he takes up a little more space in a room than he should, perhaps the air around him glows with a barely perceptible aura, and perhaps his skin is just a little too hot to the touch. Most people overlook these things, choosing not to question them or simply unable to notice them at all.

Jon is different. From the moment they met, Jon knew Martin was something otherworldly, though he wasn't yet sure what. When Martin told him he was an ancient being who crafted stars and arranged galaxies, Jon wasn't even necessarily surprised. It explained Martin's strange amber glow, his perfectly white eyes, and how impossibly large he seemed, even when he was at his six-foot human height.

Neither of them know, even after months of being together, why Jon can perceive Martin so clearly, as he does. Jon is grateful for it, because it was what brought the two of them together. He doesn't like to think about a world in which Jon had just let Martin pass him on the street, completely unaware of his otherworldly beauty, and the magnificent heart that lay underneath.

Jon thought he had seen all that there was to see of Martin's true form, until today.

They're sitting out on the back porch of Jon's tiny cottage, stargazing, as they always do on clear nights. Jon loves listening to Martin talk about the stars; he points each of them out and tells Jon their true name, and a story about them. Martin remembers them all, even the smallest, most distant ones. Some of the furthest stars have already died, their light reaching earth millions of years late, and when Martin speaks about them it is as though he is looking at a photograph of an old friend. He has moved Jon to tears more than once.

That night is more joyful. Martin is telling Jon about two stars in Orion's belt, young troublemakers who were best friends and completely incorrigible. "I kept trying to separate them," he says, "but they'd have none of it. They loved each other too much."

"What did you do?" Jon asks.

Martin shrugs. "In the end, I let them be. They orbit each other now. They're a little older, a little wiser. They've stopped causing so much trouble, but they love each other just as much."

Together they stare up at the stars in silence. Out here, in the countryside, there's not an inch of sky that isn't full of them.

"Do you miss them?" Jon says after a few moments. "The ones that are still up there, I mean. Do you wish you could be up there with them again, all the time?"

Martin looks at him, sensing the unspoken question in Jon's words. "I like being down here with you, Jon. You're as precious to me as any star. I'd never trade this life for that one." He smiles at him. "And I know you'd never ask me to."

That much, at least, was true. Whenever Martin had to leave to complete his starbound duties, Jon missed him, yes, but never resented it. He'd often use his telescope at night to try to see if he could spot Martin making new stars, but Martin had the whole universe to travel through, and he was so rarely working anywhere near the Milky Way.

He always came back, though. Jon is no longer as surprised by this as he was in the beginning, but sometimes his heart still leaps in his chest when he sees Martin's amber glow pouring through the gap under his front door.

"That's very sweet, Martin," Jon says coyly. "But you didn't answer my question. Do you ever miss them?"

Martin stares up at the endless expanse of stars. Jon can see they're reflected in his eyes, their usual white glow replaced with an inky black pool of tiny lights.

"All the time," he says.

As Martin stares up at the night sky, something in his face changes. Not his expression; his face itself. Jon blinks, thinking it might be an optical illusion, but no--there are tiny, glowing silver lights appearing across Martin's face, dotting it like freckles.

Jon sits up, leaning across the bench they share to get a closer look, and when Martin turns his head to look at him, the pattern of the lights on his face changes, mirroring the pattern of the stars behind Jon, a perfect projection of the sky. Jon gasps, and Martin gives him a puzzled look. "What is it?"

"Martin," Jon says breathlessly, reaching out towards his face but not touching it, "your face is covered with stars."

It's one of the most beautiful things Jon's ever seen. Martin's face, already lovely, is incandescent as it glows with pinpricks of starlight, peppering his cheeks and nose and forehead and lips, and Jon has been privileged to see Martin as he truly is, but he's never seen anything like this. Never before has Martin appeared so entirely other, so completely, obviously inhuman. Jon can't look away. He never wants to, ever again. He wants to reach out and touch, to run his fingers through the stars mapped out on Martin's cheeks, to kiss them from his lips, but he doesn't move forward.

"Oh," Martin says, realizing what Jon is seeing, "I'm sorry, I didn't know I was doing that. I can make them go away, give me a moment--"

"No," Jon says, his hand darting out to hold Martin's, as though that might stop him, "no, Martin, they're--you look--"

Jon stutters, not knowing how to describe to Martin how little he wants him to hide his stars away again. Martin quirks an eyebrow at him, perhaps a little confused, but thankfully the stars remain.

"Please don't get rid of them. Just . . . let me just . . ." Jon leans in close to Martin's face, examining the stars as they wink and move, ever so slightly, across it, as though alive. Which, Jon supposes, in a way they sort of are. Looking closely, he thinks he can see galaxies slowly turning at the corners of Martin's eyes, in the divot of his lips. Tentatively, as though they were fish in a pond that might dart away, Jon reaches out and places his fingertips on Martin's cheek. The stars don't move under his touch, but Martin shivers slightly, causing the projection to wobble. Jon quickly moves his hand away and glances up into Martin's eyes. "Is this alright? I'm sorry, I should have asked before."

"I . . . yes. Yes, it's alright," Martin says, quietly, staring down at him with wide, starry eyes.

Jon places his fingers once again on Martin's cheek, then traces a line down to his chin. Martin's face is warm, but the stars are just slightly hotter, sparking under Jon's fingertips. He places his other hand gently on Martin's other cheek, swipes a thumb across his nose, as though to scatter stars across it, though of course they don't move. Jon traces the patterns of stars that have gathered on the hills of Martin's lips, and then slowly, giving Martin the chance to pull away, he leans in to kiss them.

Martin does not pull away, and in the moment before he deepens the kiss Jon can feel every pinprick of every star that adorns Martin's lips, as though he is kissing each one in turn. Jon closes his eyes against the divine beauty of it all, the wonder that lies across his lover's face that Jon is able to touch, however briefly or distantly. Some of the stars under his hands and lips are gone, will never exist again except in memory, and some have only just been born a millennia ago, and all are important, and have been loved.

Then, as though strings have been cut, Martin surges forward and captures Jon in a searing embrace, kissing him so deeply that for a moment Jon half-believes he might walk away from this with stars of his own dancing over his lips. Jon does not let go of Martin's face, his palms against his jaw and thumbs stroking across his cheeks and under his closed eyes, feeling the stars dance across his skin as the two of them push and pull against one another. Behind Jon's eyelids there is the silver glow of a million stars less than a breath away.

When they part, breathless and clinging, Jon still does not open his eyes. He just presses his cheek to Martin's, feels the stars moving beneath it in time with his breaths. He turns and presses a kiss to it, then another, and another. Martin holds him so closely, a hand gently running through his hair.

"I love you," Martin says, softly. "As much as any star."

Jon laughs a watery laugh. "I know." When he finally opens his eyes again, he can see that Martin's face has dimmed back to its usual form, though his eyes are still dark and full of stars. Jon knows he could look up and see the same image in the night sky above, but he gazes into Martin's eyes instead. "I love you, too, Martin." He pauses, then smiles into those boundless, reflected depths. "As much as any star."

#the magnus archives #tma #jonmartin #martin blackwood #jonathan sims #gwyneth writes #i have 3 more of these which i will get to!#sorry it's taking so long lol

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kyogre-blue · 3 years

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Tianqiu and Nantianmen

I think everyone probably already noticed this, but there's a fairly obvious thread being laid down about a future boss/event in the Nantianmen area.

tl;dr since this got long:

There is a dragon sealed in the tree in Nantianmen.

It is connected to geovishaps and possibly Azhdaha in Tiangqiu Valley. There may be two separate but connected beings involved.

It(/they) will awaken soon. (Future event!!)

Now, for the details below!

Let's start with the tree:

At the foot of this Moonlit Tree is a stone tablet:

And also a creepy little girl named Jiu:

The games very sure you are aware of her via the quest "The Secret of Nantianmen" which consists of purely going to this tree, talking to her, and fighting two geovishap hatchlings.

Her dialogue (with some minor lines removed):

"The awakening is coming... and with it, the storm..."

Jiu: You're a little early... Are you here to witness the resurrection of the most ancient, most awe-inspiring individual in Liyue's history?

[about Rex Lapis] Jiu: Hah... That usurper?

Jiu: Humans... They care only about history since the dawn of the age of mankind...

Jiu: Are people really happy to just draw a line under the litany of atrocities humanity's ancestors are responsible for, call it "ye olde worlde," and just get on with their merry little lives?

Jiu: Well, I hope that anyone who willfully indulges in this fantasy world of false prosperity will be consumed by it, and thus get what they deserve.

Jiu: The adepti thought to suppress it with trees. Hah! Fools! Little did they know that after thousands of years... the trees that hold the beast shall surely become one with the beast...

Jiu: And lo, it shall stretch wide its arms, and unfurl its body, and reach out with its roots... And the ley lines of the world shall heed its call.

Jiu: Then, once the beast has quenched its great thirst for that energy which only the ley lines can provide...

Jiu: I imagine any significance we presume to have in this world will vanish for good. Wouldn't you agree?

(Worth noting: Jiu refers to a "He" in a reverent manner during The Secret of Nantianmen, but talks about "it" "the beast" instead dring her normal dialogue. These may be separate things.)

Whatever is sealed in Nantianmen is also mentioned in the description of The Unforged, a claymore that ran along side Vortex Vanquisher. (The theme presumably being "past enemies of Rex Lapis that he only sealed instead of killing properly.")

A long time ago, a dragon there was to be found in Liyue. But it was not a dragon that soared through the skies, but one whose abode was the mountains. Indeed, this ancient dragon of stone was as large as the very mountains it called home.

The legends say that it slumbered in Nantianmen, seeming not at all unlike the surrounding hills.

Then, Rex Lapis came before the dragon, seeking to stop the earth's quailing. They say that for a long while, the land knew peace, and that Rex Lapis gained another comrade by his side.

But in the end, the union of dragons, gods and men was perhaps not to be... The dragon was sealed in the bowels of the earth, and fearing the burning ire of the gods and the adepti, that great vishap, that had once caused rock and stone to tremble, fled into the roots of the mountains.

But over the passage of millennia, the dragon would stir once again...

The legends hold that those who triumphed over the dragon stabbed this sword into the giant tree that subdued the ancient dragon. As one of the seals, monsters and malevolent mortals would be unable to touch it. Indeed, if the legends are true, only those with hearts as pure as clear mirrors could even come near it. Yet, if those legends are true, how did this sword come to be lost?

Nantianmen, check. Sealed in a tree, check.

You can see, this is all connected to geovishaps in some way, and their lore ALSO talks about then returning after a long time. Two hatchlings spawn when talking to Jiu causes an earthquake, The Unforged talks about "that great vishap," the Primo Geovishap's boss area is right near Nantianmen...

Here is the Primo Geovishap description:

After many years, the awesomely powerful Ancient Geovishaps grow accustomed to changes in their elemental environment.

Folktales hold that after the great draconic calamity that led to the ruination of Tianqiu Valley, the overlord of the Geovishaps and Primo Geovishaps was imprisoned deep beneath the earth, and so too did they burrow into deep and unseen places, awaiting their chance to rise once more...

(Note again that the vague language here and in The Unforged makes it entirely possible that the "draconic calamity"/"the dragon" sealed in the tree and the "overlord of the vishaps" are two separate beings.)

But here we get to the next point: Tianqiu Valley. And with Tianqiu Valley, there is an important name: Azhdaha.

One of the associated wiki pages suggests that the dragon in Nantianmen might be the Chi. But I don't think that's likely, given how far away Qingce is and that we do find what is probably the Chi's heart in a cave near the village there. Far more likely is Azhdaha.

Now, Azhdaha is mentioned in two pieces of lore. One is a tablet in Tianqiu Valley, during the "Trails in Tianqiu" quest.

Ancient Tablet: "At Tianqiu Valley the adepti's ancient trail grows cold, I fall down and weep at the ruins I see. Though defeated is mighty Azhdaha of old, there's no restoring this past land of beauty."

(The trail "grows cold" in Tianqiu, so it might have started elsewhere, like Nantianment.)

Something in the valley is very much lingering, based on the notes of the treasure hoarders who tried to solve the puzzles first:

Scratched-Out Treasure Hoarder Notes: "I'm to the point where I'm trying to crack this puzzle in my dreams, or maybe nightmares is more accurate... I saw an old man squatting beside me with a wide grin, urging me to hurry up and solve the puzzle."

Scratched-Out Treasure Hoarder Notes: "Hmm, no... was it an old man or a young girl? ...Ugh, I can't remember."

Old Treasure Hoarder Notes: "And all of the guys who've been in start acting strange once they get out. They insist that the monsters followed them out, but I don't see any monsters."

There is more details about Azhdaha in regard to the "Nameless Treasure" items:

Linlang: I just had a look at this one. These markings are definitely those of Liyue, and you can see inscribed here an anecdote about Azhdaha.

Linlang: They say that Azhdaha was a dragon spawned by a convergence of the spirits of Geo in Liyue, and that even Rex Lapis could not easily subdue it.

Linlang: Rex Lapis thus summoned three adepti to his aid, and together they created a cavernous realm.

Linlang: Rex Lapis then battled the creature, luring it into the cavern, before ordering the adepti to seal the entrance, trapping Azhdaha within.

Linlang: The patterns on the thing you brought seem to describe the three adepti joining hands to create the cavern.

And when you get all three treasures:

Linlang: You... actually managed to put them together? Please, let me see... Indeed, these three patterns, when put together, do tell the story of Azhdaha.

Linlang: This crane must be the adeptus Mountain Shaper, and this deer might be Moon Carver. But this last one...

Linlang: Eh? It seems like this pattern has been... intentionally ground away by someone, to the point where I can't make it out. Who was this third adeptus?

Yes, who was the third adeptus??

Obviously, there is a discrepancy here, saying Azhdaha was sealed in a "cavernous realm," but it's all vague enough that the mechanics can be explained away with more detail. Also, I do feel like there might be two connected beings, once in the tree, one deep underground.

#genshin impact #genshin lore

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amor-immortalem · 3 years

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Can I Stay Up Here With You Forever ch.4

Taglist: @mediocredetective

Warnings: Mentions of past child abuse and neglect

“So, what’s the plan for today? Or are we jus’ stayin’ home all day?” Mammon asks as he lugs the suitcase he brought with him into the bedroom and opened some dresser drawers to put his clothes away.

“I figured we could go out and explore more of the city together. Plus, I want to get a few more pieces of furniture to fill out the house.” Arella runs a hand through her hair as she stretches. “Breakfast was great, by the way. Thank you.”

“I’m sure it wasn’t that good- not compared to last night’s dinner anyway...”

“Don’t put yourself down like that, Honey.” The human gets off the bed to hunt for some clothes of her own. “You’re cooking is good, okay?”

He nods slowly. “Not if you ask my brothers though... One of ‘em always has something ta say ‘bout it- and none of its good. Even Beel has complaints sometimes.”

She frowns in response. “Well, I’ll have you know I genuinely enjoy your cooking. I wouldn’t mind if you cooked for us more often.”

Another nod from the demon as he returns to his task of emptying out his suitcase and Arella continues her search for the perfect outfit.

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“Where is he, Solomon,” The Avatar of Pride questions the sorcerer as he stands in the foyer of Purgatory Hall.

“I’ve already told you, Lucifer.” Solomon replies with a smile on his face. “I don’t exactly know. The human world is the best answer I can give you.”

The demon studies the human for a moment to deduce whether or not he’s lying about know where Mammon is. “Where in the human world?”

“I don’t know. Arella wouldn’t tell me where exactly she was summoning him to.” It’s a tiny lie. Of course, he knew exactly where they were, but Lucifer didn’t need to know that. “I have no reason to lie to you, Lucifer, but why exactly is it that you want to find your brother so badly?”

“I want to... apologize for my actions. It seems, after further review of the situation, that I was wrong. The bill I received was full of fraudulent charges to his credit card. Does that change your answer?” The first-born narrows his eye as the silver-haired sorcerer shook his head. “Then I’ll be off. If you hear anything, I want to be the first to hear about it.

Solomon only nodded, an amused smile playing on his lips. He wondered just how long it would take the demon to pinpoint Mammon and Arella’s location.

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They bounced from shop to shop throughout the day finding many cute trinkets and knick-knacks on their journey. The cutest ones- and Mammon’s personal favorite- was a set of crows sitting on a tree branch together, their bodies turned away with their heads pressed together so that they formed the shape of a heart. He instantly picked it up after Arella made the comment that the crows were representative of them and their love.

As their small shopping spree came down to an end, they had stopped to take a break in a park, just taking a moment to rest and enjoy the beautiful day. It filled Mammon with a warm feeling he wasn’t quite sure he could name just yet so he just opted to hold her hand as they relaxed on the park bench as a few small families played nearby.

His attention in particular was pulled to one certain family: A mother and father with their three boys. Watching them drug up a desire he thought he’d never have.

“Hey, babe,” He starts quietly.

“Yes, Love?” she hums in response.

“Do... Do ya want kids...?”

“Do you?” Arella replies with a question of her own, green eyes peering up at the demon.

“I asked you first.”

With a chuckle she answers, “Yes... having children with you wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. I’d love to one day down the road. How many do you want?”

“Just one would be good enough,” He smiles, resting his cheek against the top of her head as they sit there in peace for a while longer.

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Sitting in his office, attempting to keep his mind off Mammon, Lucifer was working on his ever-growing stack of paperwork. It wasn’t working and something in the back of the demon’s mind was gnawing at him. Something Arella had said to him roughly a month ago about stealing his brother away to the human realm and never returning. A laughable idea for as much as he knew she wasn’t joking; she really held no power to make that decision. Mammon was a demon- one of the seven lords of hell. His place was here in the Devildom whether she liked it or not. Mammon himself had to realize this was all pointless eventually and then he would come home and that would be the end of it. Or at least that’s what Lucifer hoped anyway. He really didn’t want to have to drag his brother back here kicking and screaming.

Stepping away from the old, worn-out desk, the eldest decides a break for tea and a phone call might do better to take his mind of things for the time being.

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Putting up her dusty old tomes on various mythologies of the ancient past, Aubrie could just barely hear the phone. Hopping down off the ladder, the mythologist swiped up the device- a gift from the only demon in her contacts. He was lucky she didn’t have it turned off like she usually did while she was working.

“Good evening, Lucifer,” Holding the shiny D.D.D. to her ear, she answered with a chirp. “To what do I owe the honor?”

“Good evening, Aubrie.” Lucifer’s voice is smooth as silk and Aubrie has to wonder if he just naturally talks like that or he was using that ‘seductive speechcraft’ Arella had mentioned some time ago to get whatever it was that he wanted from their conversation. “Have you spoken to Arella recently?”

“I have. You know she just moved from England, right?” The ginger chirps. “I texted with her this morning to see how it went.”

“Actually, I didn’t.” The Avatar of Pride hummed as he sipped on his tea. “That’s interesting. Where abouts did she move?”

“I wish I knew. The best I can say is somewhere in mainland Europe,” Aubrie lets out a sigh. “I want to go visit her. I can’t imagine how lonely it is to move to an entirely different country where you’re alone- although for Arella that’s pretty on character...”

“She does seem independent,” Lucifer hums, “I’m sure she’ll be fine. Actually, that’s part of the reason I called. I’m sure she told you that my brother’s with her when you spoke earlier... I need her to send him back. He can’t be missing so much school- his grades are already abysmal to begin with and the longer she keeps him up there, the worse they’ll get. Plus, I have things I need to talk with him about.”

“She's worried about his safety with you, Lucifer. Apparently, you broke his elbow somehow? Or something to that effect.”

“I didn’t break his elbow. No, he did that on his own by falling on it, but my actions helped lead to it so I have some blame in it.” The black-haired demon sighs, “That’s why I’m looking for them. I want to apologize to Mammon- he didn’t exactly deserve what I did that led up to him breaking his elbow.”

The human nods at that. “And here I thought you would be too proud to apologize.” She teased.

“If it were anyone other than my brothers, maybe.” He admits. “But in their own way, each of my brothers are important to me. We’ve been together for eons. Losing a single one of them would be devastating to our family, Aubrie. Like right now, the house has been too quiet and dark since Mammon left for the human realm. Things aren’t right until he comes home.”

“I see, but if you knew your brother would be happier up here in the human world with Arella... would you let him go?”

“I can’t- and it's not because I don’t want him to be happy, quite the opposite, actually- if we were not of such high rank and standing, then I would be content to allow Mammon to follow what makes him happy- whether that be here in the Devildom or up in the human world to allow him to live amongst the humans.”

“What do you mean?”

“I'm sure Arella has told you about our rank here in the devildom. We’re each to rule over a layer of Hell once we leave RAD in a few years. Mammon has a responsibility to the Devildom as Lord of the Fourth Layer. It's not a thing that he can just leave behind in favor of spending the rest of his human’s minimal lifespan up in the mortal realm.”

“You could be less harsh on him though. I know our morals on what is wrong and right are different and it’s foolish for us to force our morals on to literal demons from some of the stories she mentions about the way you all treat your brother... Well, it sounds like abuse to me and for someone like Arella, that’s very triggering for her.”

“What do you mean by that?” Lucifer’s interest was piqued at the human’s words. He knew next to nothing about Arella’s past before the exchange program and she never talks about her past to begin with so having the opportunity to hear about it was enticing to the Avatar of Pride.

“Her home life when we were children was... less than happy. Her mother was physically, emotionally, and verbally abusive as well as neglectful. I have plenty of pictures from when we were children where she’s covered in bruises, black eyes, busted lips. She would never say anything against her mother so protective services couldn’t do anything for her, but we all knew that woman was the cause of them. So you see, the way you treat your brother drudges up all that old trauma for her and that’s why she behaves the way she does. Wouldn’t you do the same thing if you were in her shoes, Lucifer?”

“You’re not wrong.” He goes to take another sip of his tea but the cup is empty. “This was nice and also very insightful. I have to go now, enjoy the rest of your evening, Aubrie.”

“Thank you, Love. You too. Make sure to go to bed a reasonable time tonight.” There was a short pause on her end before Aubrie began sputtering apologies and trying to back pedal her way out of that embarrassing situation and the line eventually just cut off.

Lucifer couldn’t help but laugh softly at the ridiculousness of it all. Humans sure were a funny creature.

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Find more writings on my masterlist

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me swd #obey me! shall we date?#obey me fluff #obey me mammon #mammon fluff #obey me lucifer #obey me solomon #obey me oc #arella #aubrie

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poptod · 3 years

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The Old Gods

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Am I a part of that story?"

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

"Yes," Castiel said without hesitation.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Why?"

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

"Oh," Jack said softly.

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

"Are humans inherently good?"

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

"Am I a good person?"

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

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

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

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

"What? It's the truth."

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

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

"Maybe," said Sam.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Is that..."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That seemed to shut the older Winchester up.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It didn't work.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Where did you imagine it?"

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

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

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

He shook his head gingerly. Was he supposed to?

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

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

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

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

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

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

A beat of silence passed.

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

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

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

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

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

"Canaanites. From the land of Canaan."

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

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

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

"Of course."

"Do you know anything about mythical creatures?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Castiel could work a TV.

Kind of.

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

That was suspicious.

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

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

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

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

A small smile stretched across your plush lips.

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

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

They stared at him in silence when he finished.

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

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

"A – a fae, or something," he said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What's a date?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You chuckled before you said, "which ones?"

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

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

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

"Yes. Please."

"So what are you looking for?"

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

"Mediterranean sea?"

He nodded.

"What year?" You asked.

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

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

"... before."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"About fairies."

You paused, your eyes widening slightly.

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

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

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

You nodded, again slowly as you pursed your lips.

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

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

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

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

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

"Jack o' lanterns?"

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

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

He shook his head reluctantly.

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

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

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

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

"Are you alright, Jack?" You asked.

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

You nodded, gently helping him along.

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

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

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

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

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

"So.. will you..?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jack frowned, his brow knitted together again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"How did it go?" He asked.

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

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

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

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

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

"Two days from now," he said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You want to what??" Castiel asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"So I should kiss them?"

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

"And... how do I kiss?"

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

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

"Ignore him," Sam said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Why?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"So what's your father like?"

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

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

"Oh."

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

"I think we all are," you chuckled.

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

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

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

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

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

"How come?"

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

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

"You have friends, though?"

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

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

"Because you came to me."

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

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

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

He nodded ardently.

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

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

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

He wished he could tell you without seeming strange.

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

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

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

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

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

Was that giving too much away?

"What does he want you to do?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Did fairies have families?

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

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

"I understand," was what he said instead.

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

But you did. Of course you did.

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

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

"What was it you wanted to ask?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Of course. I like talking to you."

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

"I'll see you again soon?"

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

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

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

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

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

He walked back to the impala completely starstruck.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yes, I couldn't find them."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"It's their scarf," he explained.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He earned several unimpressed stares.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You mustered your strength to nod.

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

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

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

"Your soul does," Castiel answered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Magic?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"A nephilim?" You asked with a frown.

"The son of an angel," he clarified.

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

"I've never heard of angels."

His brows raised in surprise.

"Really?" He asked.

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

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

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

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

"He is another God?"

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

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

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

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

Jack frowned. Was that normal?

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

"My people?"

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

#jack kline x reader #supernatural #spn #jack kline

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mandoalorian · 3 years

Text

I Believe In Love [Maxwell Lord x F!Reader] — Eight: Courage

Summary: When you find your calling to leave Themyscira, you venture out to the World of Man with intentions of helping and healing a very specific person's relationship with his son. You've heard his voice before, but only in dreams. You've felt his pain and anguish and you've never been able to relate to anything more. But things don't come easy for you, and they certainly don't come easy for him either. [This series contains spoilers for WW84 and is my interpretation of what happens after the movie ends].

Warnings: canon typical violence

Word count: 5,000>

Masterlist

Previous - Chapter Eight - Next

You awoke to the phone on the nightstand ringing. Maxwell groaned, rolling over and pulling the pillow over his head. You tiredly opened your eyes before taking the phone off the hook and holding it against your ear. “Hello?” you asked, your voice hoarse and your throat sore. It must have been the implications of yours and Maxwell’s actions from the night before. Max moaned and wrapped his large arm around your naked body, pulling you into his chest and resting his chin on your shoulder.

“It’s me,” Diana snapped back quickly. “I’ve been calling your room for the past fifteen minutes. What’s going on?”

“O-oh,” you groaned, rubbing your eyes and pulling out of Maxwell’s grip. You sighed and propped yourself up on some pillows. “I’m sorry Di, I guess we must’ve slept through the phone call. I didn’t hear anything.” you admitted.

“Listen, we only have two days in Greece so if we want to find the dreamstone we have to work fast. Meet me in the lobby in fifteen minutes or I’ll go without you. I already have a lead.” Diana instructed and you heard the phone slam back down on the hook with a ring.

You turned to Max who had fallen back asleep, his snores gentle and light as his chest slowly rose and fell with every breath. He was so peaceful. When he was asleep, it was one of the few moments where he wasn’t ridden with stress or anxiety. And you wished you had the rest of your life to admire his tender movements.

“Max, wake up, we have to go.” you whispered, shaking him gently.

Maxwell mumbled something incoherent and rolled over, resting his head in your lap. You smiled, feeling your cheeks heat up as he shuffled further into your body. You smoothed out his golden hair and traced the features of his face with your index finger. So beautiful. So perfect.

You imagined spending every single one of your future mornings like this, in bed with him, his face buried in your lap and his gentle snores echoing throughout the room. Your naked legs were tangled together and neither of you had ever felt so comfortable in your life.

“Max, baby,” you cooed, leaning down and pressing a soft kiss into his forehead.

“Mmm, good morning.” Maxwell grumbled, rubbing his tired eyes.

“We slept in,” you sighed, letting your hand trail down his body and lazily circle his tan chest. “Diana is waiting for us downstairs. We have to go.”

“I don’t want to,” he whined, almost child-like. “Wanna stay here with you- foreverrrr.” he purred, pressing a tired kiss to the inside of your thigh.

“Maxie, please don’t make this any more difficult than it needs to be.” you hummed seriously, although you were trying to hold back a smile. If anything was going to wake Maxwell up, it would be that nickname. He opened his eyes and pulled off you.

“Okay princess, I’m up.” He said, running his hand through his wavy morning hair.

“Princess? I told you I’m not a-”

“Think of it as a term of endearment, sweetheart.” he said, pressing a kiss into your nose.

“Oh.” was all you managed to breathe out before his lips caught yours.

***

Just as she had stated, Diana was waiting for you in the hotel lobby, dressed fully in her red, blue and gold warrior costume. It had garnered quite a bit of attention, but nothing Diana Princess of Themyscira wasn’t used to.

“You said you had a lead?” you quizzed, quirking your eyebrow and taking a step closer to Diana.

“Yes, Dr. Minerva,” Diana said, immediately glancing at Maxwell who’s eyes had become comically wide. The name clearly meant something to him. It rang like alarm bells in his head. “Or Barbara, as myself and Max know her as.”

You turned to Max, confused as to why Diana was being particularly smug. She’d acted the same when she mentioned Barbara and Max back at the Smithsonian yesterday. “Who is this Dr Minerva?” you asked him, looking at him with the most innocent, doe eyes. Your voice was soft but riddled with curiosity. He wanted to tell you, he wanted to tell you everything it’s just… things were difficult. He’d done things with Barbara that he’d be afraid of you knowing; afraid of what you might think or if you will think any less of him. He couldn’t stand the fact you genuinely had no idea. It was a long complicated story. He hoped to tell you it one day - but knowing that you might not have much time left on Earth, was it really worth it?

“Maybe Diana is better off explaining.” Maxwell scrunched up his nose, dismissing your question. It brought back too many memories that Max would prefer to just ignore. Even though ignoring his past trauma was how he got into this mess in the first place. If he’d learned one thing from Diana, it was that he must face the truth no matter how difficult it may be.

“No,” Diana shot back, but her voice wasn’t laced with venom as Maxwell expected. “I think you’re better off answering this one.” Diana smiled a perfect smile. Maybe smug wasn’t the word to describe Diana’s demeanor, but she certainly knew something that you didn’t, and she was being particularly hidden about it.

“Well Max?” you narrowed your eyes. Why was he being so secretive? Who was this woman?

“Uh-,” Maxwell trailed off, avoiding all eye contact. He took in the features of your face, admiring your beauty with all he had and thinking about how he didn’t want to lose you. He loved you. And you deserved to know. If Max could open up to you about his childhood and about his pursuit of the dreamstone, he could tell you about his short-lived relationship with Barbara-Ann Minerva. “Shit, okay. I had been searching for the dreamstone for a long time when one day, a newspaper headline told me that there was a robbery at a jewellery store, and that the Smithsonian had all the stolen treasures. Including the dreamstone. So I went to the Smithsonian and requested to see Dr. Minerva because I did my research and I knew she was the fresh faced gemologist they just hired a week earlier. And she was… beautiful,” Maxwell seemed to get lost in the memory of her vibrant blue eyes and blonde wavy hair. His lips then curled into a frown. “But so ditzy... I saw straight through her vulnerabilities and insecurities in an instant and I used that to exploit her and get the dreamstone. I gained her trust when I told her I’d be donating to the gemology department at the museum, I charmed her at the charity gala and I wooed her in her office and took the stone.”

Maxwell seemed to gloss over the chain of events but it didn’t really matter. He’d explained what he needed to. You felt a pang of jealousy strike your heart at his revelation. You had been made aware from Mrs Stagg, Ted and Julianna, Diana, and even Max, that he’d done bad things and made terrible mistakes, but you couldn’t help but feel an irk over what had happened in Dr Minerva’s office. “Wooed her?” you quoted him, folding your arms over your chest. Maxwell blinked, but then sighed and reached out to hold your hand.

“Really?” Diana sighed. “That’s what you're focused on right now? Dolos lives. The God of Lies lives.” she shook her head in disbelief and you bit your lip, supposing that she was right. You had bigger things on your plate. You were a goddess for heaven’s sake, you couldn’t let the irrational human emotion of envy consume you. But you had noticed the way his face softened when he was reminded of Dr Minerva’s beauty. And you couldn’t help but feel the urge to know what exactly went on in her office, the night of the charity gala. After a brief moment of silence and exchanged glances, Diana opened her mouth again. “I had a contact in D.C., Babajide, who knew all about the dreamstone and the powers of the God of Lies. Myself, Barbara and Steve met with him when we found out Maxwell had become the dreamstone.”

“Hey- how did I not know about Babajide?” Maxwell frowned. He’d been researching the dreamstone for years and he’d never known of such a man. A man who supposedly had all the answers about the stone.

“Irrelevant,” Diana rolled her eyes. “Seriously guys, this is important. You need to pay attention.”

“I am!” You and Maxwell exclaimed together, in an unpredicted unison. Diana quirked an eyebrow and you felt a warmth cross your cheeks. Ancient Olympian tales would describe moments like that as soulmate-ism.

“Babajide knew so much about Romulus and the exact dreamstone that Max got a hold of so I paid him another visit and found out he had knowledge on Dolos’ dreamstone too. Only…” And Diana let out a long sigh before pinching the bridge of her nose. “He told me that Barbara had visited him a day earlier, asking him of the same knowledge. ‘Asking’ is putting it nicely. Apparently Barbara was a menace and threatened Babajide. And Babajide told her everything he told me. It’s more than likely that Barbara is already here, in Greece, seeking the stone for herself.”

“She sounds dangerous.” you said quietly. Maxwell held his head in his hands.

“I don’t think I can face Barbara again.” He said, shaking his head, fearful.

“Max I don’t think we have a choice. We have to get the dreamstone before she gets it. What do you think she’ll do with the stone once she has it?” you asked Diana.

“I can only imagine the worst,” Diana shook her head in dismay. “Barbara was complicated… she craved power just like Maxwell only… she had nothing to lose. I fear that she’ll wish to become the dreamstone.” As the word’s left Diana’s lips, Maxwell’s heart sank and he ran off, disappearing amongst the lobby crowds. “Do you think he’s okay?”

You stood for a moment, watching as his dirty blonde hair descended behind the grand staircase. No, of course he wasn’t okay, and you were the only one who truly knew how much this business with the dreamstone had affected him and harmed him. He had come so close to losing everything and so learning that Barbara might make the same mistake as he did, hurt him too. No matter what happened between Barbara and Maxwell, he clearly cared about her. “Excuse me.” you told Diana, following Maxwell through the crowds.

You just noticed him heading through an alcove and outside of the resort. He pushed his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose and stood by the pool, relishing the fresh air and trying to regulate his panicked, erratic breathing. “Max! Max!” you called after him, pushing past the people until finally you were by his side, grabbing his hand. “What happened back there?”

Maxwell said nothing, instead he just looked into the golden horizon. “Max?”

“Maybe I shouldn’t be here,” he told you. “You have Diana. What use am I?”

“We need you Max,” you promised him, placing your hand on his cheek and gently turning his head so he was facing you. “I need you.”

Maxwell smiled softly and felt himself lean into your warm embrace. “I’ve never felt needed… or wanted… until I met you.” he confessed and you felt tears prick your eyes at his admission. You knew that feeling all too well.

“I know, me too. Back home, all the other Amazon’s were fighters and warriors… like Diana. But not me. They made me feel useless… like I had no point. Like I was a mistake. My mother would tell me that Zeus created me for a reason, just like all the other Gods and Goddesses, and that one day I’d serve my true purpose. That’s why I’m here today, with you. I already know that the years of humiliation and feeling like an outcast will be worth the few days that I get to spend with you, Max.”

Max sighed softly. “I never thought a Goddess could feel like an outcast,” he told you and you pursed your lips into a fine line, nodding in affirmation. “I’m sorry.”

“I think we have more in common that meets the eye.” you giggled softly, dropping your hand flat against his chest. Maxwell wrapped both of his big arms around you and pulled you into a hug.

“I think so too,” he agreed, pressing a soft kiss into your hair. “We better catch up with Diana then,” he told you, taking your hand. “Let’s put an end to this.”

***

You had been walking for miles in the blazing Greek heat. Maxwell had unbuttoned the top of his shirt and his collar was slightly wonky. His hair may have been disheveled and the blonde locks may have been sticking to the pearls of sweat that beaded along his forehead, but you still admired his beauty. He was truly wonderful. He was quiet most of the journey, and he didn’t have the agility or stamina that you and Diana had. Sometimes you’d have to take stops and have water breaks or toilet breaks. You tried to include him in conversation but his discomfort wasn’t lost on you. It was clear enough that his relationship with Diana was complicated, to say the least. Little did you know, the three of you were about to become a whole lot closer. You and Diana laughed and talked for hours, sharing stories about your time together on Themyscira.

“Zeus is my father. Zeus is your father. We’re basically sisters,” you nudged her, and she giggled. Maxwell scrunched up his nose. Sisters?! He ran a hand through his hair and continued to listen in your conversation. “It’s just unfair that you got to be Princess of Themyscira and I was stuck living a sheltered life with my mother.”

“It wasn’t always easy being a princess,” Diana scolded, but in a warm and polite manner. “It was all about duty. But hey- you’re a goddess, you know all about that.”

If Maxwell Lord had a dollar for everytime he thought he was in a fever dream… he might have been able to afford Black Gold Cooperative’s utility bill. He’d always been a realist. He’d never engaged in fantasy movies or novella, but there was something about overhearing a conversation between a Demi-god and a goddess that just didn’t feel real.

He knew it was. He’d seen Diana in action himself. Hell, he’d seen the powers you possessed. Albeit, when Diana mentioned how you possessed double her power, he was shocked to say the least. Diana could barely hold off Barbara in the White House but with you here? For once Maxwell finally felt hopeful.

As you furthered deeper into unknown plains, a sudden coldness enveloped you all. It was like a dark, enigmatic spirit ghosting between the three of you, and just like everything else that had happened over the past four days, it couldn’t be explained.

“Do you feel that?” Max finally asked, breaking his silence as he folded his arms over his chest. A shiver raced down his spine as Diana increased her pace and approached the forbidden tomb. “Look at this place. She took us to an ancient burial site, it seems. Like ancient Greek ruins.” he told you, scoping out the place.

“I feel that, yes.” you hummed, your mind wandering the origins of the cold air. Diana’s cries alerted both you and Maxwell as your heads both snapped in her direction and watched her push an enormous boulder away from the tomb, revealing an opening.

“Are you as strong as that?” Maxwell asked, his mouth gaped open in shock.

“Stronger.” you winked before taking his hand and dragging him towards Diana.

The cold spirit then enveloped you, Diana and Maxwell, whispering words of admission, encouraging you all to come forward. “Don’t you think it’s a trap?” Maxwell asked once you were deep enough in the cave that you had hit a point of no return. Even if it was a trap, there was no going back now. You were faced with two path-ways.

“The Sword of Athena is this way,” Diana pointed to the right pathway, otherwise known as the pathway she stood before, and then she pointed her other finger to the left pathway, “and Dolos’ dreamstone is that way. I say we split up and rendezvous here. Maxwell, come with me.”

“Wait what?” Max asked, narrowing his eyes.

“No,” you told Diana firmly. “He is coming with me.” “You really think it’s wise to let Max Lord accompany you to get the dreamstone?” Diana quizzed quietly, stepping closer to you and breaking any distance. Her dark eyes flicked between you and Maxwell. “After everything he’s done.”

Diana’s hiss was quiet, but not quiet enough to go unnoticed by Maxwell. He knew he wasn’t going to do anything. He was a changed man - but the realization that he’d have to prove to the people he hurt that he was changed, suddenly overwhelmed him. He’d have to prove himself to Diana, and even prove himself to Barbara before he could put all this behind him. There were still steps Max Lord had to take in order to gain full closure of his trauma.

“I trust him.” you said through gritted teeth. Maxwell felt a wave of relief. You were so pure of heart. So angelic. You took his hand, nodded goodbye to Diana, and guided him through the left path-way.

“How much further?” he asked. You had been walking hand in hand for around five or ten minutes, only your lasso of Hestia illuminating the cave. Before you could reply, you felt the walls and ceiling of the cave begin to vibrate and crumble. “What’s that?!” Maxwell asked again, this time panicked and looking around erratically.

“We might not have much time.” You said, feeling your own heart rate increase speed as anxiety settled in you.

Something wasn’t right, that much was clear. You tightened your grip on the businessman’s hand and began to run, pulling him with you. Within seconds, you had reached your destination. Maxwell was heaving and panting but he straightened up and fought for composure when he noticed a dim, amber light illuminate your skin. It wasn’t your lasso of Hestia… not this time. He slowly looked up and followed your gaze, gasping when his eyes set on the dreamstone.

You had completely frozen up, struck by awe as you took in the beauty of the citrine stone which stood erect on top of a Greek pillar. “Wow.” you mumbled, swallowing the hard lump in your throat.

The stone was practically identical to the one Maxwell had utilized just a week ago, and just seeing it again, in its full glory, sent electric bolts of dread through his body. He couldn’t be here. He couldn’t do this. Not again. Being in the same proximity as the stupid stone that had ruined everything sent Maxwell into his fight or flight. “I can’t- I can’t do this.” Maxwell shakily declared, his coffee coloured eyes glazed with panic.

“It’s okay,” you whispered, taking both of his hands and coaching his breathing. “Let me get the stone and we can head on out of here.”

Maxwell closed his eyes and nodded. If you could trust him, he could certainly trust you. You brushed a chaste kiss against his lips and pulled away from him. It only took a few steps on your approach to the stone before the walls began to crumble again, even more so than previously, and the ground beneath you began to split.

“Shit!” Maxwell cried as he stared at the crack in the floor between you both. It was deep and only getting deeper. If you didn’t run now, you might have gotten separated. He called your name, terror rampant in his voice. “Hurry!”

As you were about to grab the stone. A voice stopped you. A voice that Maxwell thought he’d never hear again.

“The stone belongs to me.” she said coldly. You huffed and opted to ignore the grave voice, taking the dreamstone from the pillar before spinning around on your heel and turning around.

And when you saw the sight before you, you dropped the dreamstone and let it fall to the rocky ground beneath you. Trepidation consumed you and suddenly, it felt like your whole life was on the line. “Maxwell!” you cried, your hand immediately dropping down to your lasso and curling your fingers around the rope. You scowled angrily, your gaze flicking between Max and the woman who was holding him by his neck.

“This- this is Dr. Minerva!” Maxwell choked, tears streaming down his cheeks as Barbara tightened her grip around his throat. Her once blonde hair was white and knotted, and her black kohl eyeliner smudged down her cheeks. Her tights were ripped and a sleeve was missing from her Cheetah print fur jacket. She is not at all how you’d imagined her.

“Let him go!” You begged as anger swelled in the pit of your stomach. “Let him go now!”

Maxwell’s eyes squeezed shut and he let out a groan, his knees wobbling as he struggled to even stand up straight. It was only Barbara’s strong grip of his neck that was keeping him upright. He was hurting. The love of your life was in pain.

“Give me the stone.” Barbara growled.

You picked up the dreamstone and passed it her way. She took it, willingly and let go of Maxwell, throwing him to the ground. The glint in her eye as she analysed the citrine was enough to terrify you. You ran to Maxwell’s side, dropping to your knees and nursing his body.

“Hey! Max, are you okay?” You whispered, smoothing out his hair and running your fingers along his face. He nodded wearily, rubbing the scratches on his neck from where her sharp, cat-like, fingernails had dug into his skin. You helped him to his feet and swung an arm around his body to support him.

“Barbara.” he called, gaining the attention of the doctor.

“No,” you chastised Max. “Don’t. There will be another opportunity to get the stone.” But he wasn’t going to give in that easy, he had to play his cards right. Luckily for you, manipulation was one of Maxwell Lord’s most tactful skills.

“Barbara, did we end things on a bad note? I must admit, I thought we had something special… me and you.” Maxwell said, his voice hoarse. He pulled out of your arms and sluggered towards the gemologist, who had finally looked up from the citrine stone and towards the businessman. For a split second, you saw a glimpse of humanity flicker in her eyes.

“You renounced your wish,” Barbara said, her grip on the stone as tight as ever, but her heart ached as Maxwell approached her. “You were weak. The dreamstone deserves to be with someone like me.” Even her words sound forced and unnatural - like they weren’t really coming from her. Had she not renounced her wish? You wondered what she had even wished for.

“I couldn’t agree more,” Maxwell coaxed. He had gotten so close to Barbara, he was able to cup her face and rub the height of her cheekbone with his thumb. It was an action he’d performed on you many times, but even watching this play out, with your own two eyes, you could tell it was different. It was colder and more forced. He had that fake television smile, not the smile you had been blessed to see so many times. “I just hoped things could’ve been different between us.”

“Max, what are you saying?” Barbara asked, goosebumps lacing her arms and you noticed the way her grip on the dreamstone loosened under his touch.

“Everyone has something to lose,” Maxwell whispered. “I could have all the power in the world but it would mean nothing to me if I lost Alistair, my son. Tell me Barbara, does that really make me weak?”

Barbara considered his words for a few moments. “No.”

Maxwell nodded. “What do you have to lose?” Maxwell whispered, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear.

Barbara sniffed, a single tear dripping down her cheek. She was once so warm and compassionate, so friendly. There was one thing. Only one thing she thought about losing.

Just then, the dreamstone slipped from her grip as the lasso of Hestia curled around it and pulled it away from her. But it wasn’t your lasso.

“Diana!” Barbara gasped, her face hardening as she quickly and fiercely wiped her tears away. “That dreamstone belongs to me!”

“I can’t let you do this Barbara!” Diana cried. “This has to end now!” You and Maxwell ran towards Diana and she passed you the dreamstone. “Get out of here!” I’ll hold back Barbara.”

You handed Maxwell the dreamstone and equipped your own lasso, circling it around until it wrapped around a rocky ledge at the end of the cave. “Hold on to me. One hand around me and keep tight a hold of the stone!” you commanded as the walls of the ancient temple began to crumble around you. Just before you set off, you saw the silver gleam of Diana’s sword of Athena as she wielded it before Barbara.

“Shouldn’t I hold on to the lasso?” Maxwell asked, sliding an arm around your waist and holding the stone tight against his chest.

“Just trust me!” You shouted over the loud rumbling around you. You gripped on to your lasso firmly with both hands before shooting off in the air.

“Whoa!” Maxwell screamed, squeezing his eyes tight shut the second his feet left the ground. “Are we flying?! Are we flying?!”

You giggled as your bodies glided through the air. Max might have been holding on to you for his dear life, but somehow he knew he would be okay. That he’d be safe and you wouldn’t let him get hurt. You rapidly approached the entrance to the cave and used the last of your might to safely land. Maxwell had no time to catch his whereabouts when his feet hit the ground, as you clipped your lasso back to your belt and ran with him to the edge of the ruins.

You hadn’t been in there too long, but by the time you had exited the ancient temple, it was already nightfall. You looked back and there was no sign of Diana. She must have still been in there with Barbara, and you wondered what was going on.

When Maxwell held the dreamstone, he felt opportunistic. He could make a wish. He had the possibility to make a wish again and have a do-over. He knew where he went wrong last time. He could make it right. He could wish for you to stay… and for you to live a peaceful, happy life with him and Alistair. He could wish to win the custody case. He could wish for so many things. But it was the softness of your touch which interrupted him from his intrusive thoughts. The way your fingers gently grazed across his knuckles and you held his hand.

“We have to destroy it now.” you whispered, looking into the glowing citrine rock.

“We?” Maxwell questioned. His eyes were dark and wide. “We don’t even know how.”

“Only the truth can destroy the lies. But my mother said I had to believe in love. Love would destroy the stone. Truth and love… truth and love…” you chanted as you tried to piece together the puzzle.

It suddenly hit Maxwell like a ton of bricks. “True love,” he said out loud, his gaze flicking from the dreamstone to you. “True love will destroy the stone.”

It made more than sense, and Maxwell had worked it out on his own. “You’re right…” you whispered. You squeezed Max’s hand and then reached over to the dreamstone. You placed your hand on the stone, and the tips of your fingers touched the tips of Maxwell. As you both held the stone together, the magic began to work and the stone grew hot and tingled your skin. Very soon, Dolos’ dreamstone - the final dreamstone - fizzled away into a pile of glittering dust and blew away in the cool Greek wind.

You and Maxwell both stood there in silence, still holding your hands out, but this time there was no dreamstone. You had done it. The dreamstone had been destroyed. The God of Lies was dead. It was over.

“You did it,” Maxwell was the first to break the silence. “You destroyed the dreamstone.”

You had both been thinking the same thing. The fact you had both placed your hand on the dreamstone and that your combined energy was enough to disintegrate the possessed rock. True love. It was hard to know what to say. Of course you were in love with Maxwell Lord, and knowing that pretty soon you’d have to leave him, made your whole body ache to the core. And Maxwell felt the same about you. He’d never been this happy in his life - but spending his days with you and Alistair felt so special. You were his guardian angel, sent out from Themyscira to aid him and help him. To rescue him. How could he not love you? But still, neither of you said anything. How could you ever tell him that you loved him when you were going to leave him? It would only make things harder when it was time to go. You winced and blinked away unshed tears.

“No,” you whispered, turning to look into Maxwell’s honey coloured eyes. “We did it.”

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#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #max lord #maxwell lord #maxwell lord x reader #max lord x reader

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rosequartzwriting · 3 years

Text

Whatever It Takes

Pairing: Doctor Strange X Fem!Reader

Description: After Stephen flew away as dust, you had taken care of the world. But The Avengers approached you with an idea to bring everyone back. You joined them, now finding yourself up against Thanos alongside your partner again.

Warnings: Funeral scene

Word Count: 1.8k

A/N: Originally posted to Quotev

Part 1: Infinity War Story

Part1.5: Hypothetical Endgame (original plot)

Five years later, and you and the Avengers were so close to victory.

After spending weeks stranded on a ship with Tony and Nebula, starving and so close to not making it, being brought back to Earth gave you a spark of hope.

You took over in protecting the Sanctum, and staying in contact with the Avengers. Spending countless hours perfecting your magic, getting stronger and being the best you knew Stephen wanted you to be. You still grieved, and fell into a depressed state while trying to improve your magic. What else did you have to live for when the one you love is gone? That spark of hope soon began to die.

When they called you to help with their idea of time travel, you instantly took up the offer, wanting everything to be back the way it was. You were assigned in getting the Time Stone, and went back to 2012 to only find The Ancient One protecting it. She recognized you, oddly since this was a past version of her, but that told you she probably saw into the future ahead of time. She gave you the stone when you told her Stephen gave it up, and said that he did that for a reason.

Things seemed to be falling into line perfectly, when the stones were together and Bruce reversed half the universe dying. But that's when chaos erupted. Destruction, ruin, and fear when Thanos showed up.

Now you watched in shock as Cap laid there, badly beaten and out of breath, knowing you needed to jump in. The cloak flowed around you, dancing in the wind as you flew down to stand beside Steve. You stared down Thanos, and summoned energy to create the Rings of Raggadorr. You felt your body shake with power, energy flowing around you catching the cloak and your hair. Thanos had taken down Tony, Thor and Steve now...

But he still had to go through you.

There was shuffling at your feet, and Cap started to get back up. You shook off one of your rings and offered a hand to pull him up. Your hands stayed locked when he fully rose, and he gave you a solid nod. His blood and dirt soaked face, his pale graying skin, pained your heart. Yet he stood with you, ready to keep fighting.

Whatever it takes.

Then there was a sparking sound, and you whipped your head around. You knew that sound, the sound of a sling ring portal opening. Portals began to open around the battle field, people stepping out in large numbers and recognizable faces all coming together. A massive Wakandan army, a goddess on a pegasus, friends of Steve and Tony, Pepper in a Iron Man suit, sorcerers baring the mystic arts and countless more powerful beings.

At the centre of it all, was Stephen.

It hit you that this was his plan from back on Titan, and he called everyone here to finish it.

Without hesitation the cloak flew you over to him, and you couldn't help yourself but threw your arms around him. He did it back and the cloak left your shoulders to rest itself on his.

"Sorry I’m so late," He said, and hearing his voice again was enough to make your eyes water, "but this is how we win."

You looked at him taking in the features of his face; his determined filled eyes, and tight jaw. This told you he was ready for a fight. Glimpsing around you, warriors of all different abilities surrounded the area. Something told you that this was it, the fight of your life.

And you were ready.

"Avengers!" Captain America called out to your army.

You glanced at Stephen, smirked, and threw your hands down to summon a spell. It exploded around you, powerful energy engrossing your body. His eyes lit up, and he smiled.

And you were an Avenger.

"Assemble..."

You ran into battle, and all the strength detonated.

You found yourself battling will all the power built up over the years, and also all the trauma and the pain. Let it all go. Patterns forming and sparks flickering from your hands, exploding with everything you had bottled up inside.

You fought aliens that you plowed through in no time. You fought with a large ensemble of other women Avengers, a special moment that will stick with you. You fought Thanos off for a bit, wanting to avenge the one you love. You fought to help pass along the gauntlet with the stones, ready to finish this.

And you fought back to back with him, Stephen. A feeling incomparable to anything else.

This course of events went by so fast, and you kept up perfectly.

~~~

You were exhausted and just when you thought you couldn't summon anymore power or energy, your enemies began to fade away into dust. Breathing heavily and taking a long sigh, you looked around at your fellow warriors and Avengers around the battle field.

You were looking for one person, and he was behind you.

Using the last scrapes of adrenaline left in your veins, you broke out into a run. Nothing else mattered to you when you jumped onto Stephen, but the rush of having him right there. It was almost surreal, you watched him die in your arms years ago.

"We won?" You asked frantically, eyes wide with excitement and relief as you looked up at him.

Stephen chuckled, and it filled your heart with happiness, "Yes, we won."

You wrapped your arms around his neck and held him tightly.

"And I thought you fighting on Titan was the most powerful I've seen you."

You tried to laugh, but it came out as a choke as tears threatened to fall.

He held your face, looking past all the dirt and scratches and blood, and seeing the one he loves. "I'm so proud of you."

You threw yourself forward and kissed him. You've been waiting for five years. His arms snaked around you, one wrapping around your waist and the other cradling the back of your head. This feeling, of being in his arms, you missed it so much.

"I missed you so much," Your voice shuttered in between kisses.

"I know, (Y/N). I know."

Then you realized something, "You gave up the stone for me..."

"They needed you alive," He replied, leaving a soft kiss on your lips that lingered, "and you did it. I'm so so so proud of you."

Cries interrupted, and you parted to see a few people crowding around a body.

"Tony..."

~~~

The funeral was small and quiet. Hushed conversations and mutual sadness swept through the air around Tony and Pepper's property, everyone dressed in black to show their respects.

You and Stephen were sitting by the lake. Throughout the day, the tears threatened to burst from your eyes, but you held them in. It was beautiful out here, warm sun and fresh wind dancing over the water, but it didn't change your mood.

"I'm gonna miss him." You said.

Stephen cleared his throat, "I will too. But you had five years to know him."

"Yeah." You forced yourself to smile. "He sure was something." Memories ran back into your mind. "I remember when we were stranded on that ship, he was ready to die and going insane when we got back. And arguing with him was a real chore."

Stephen laughed.

"I'd come visit him here when I needed time away from the Sanctum. I remember when Morgan was so tiny. She likes our magic you know."

He chuckled, "Well, we're going to have to visit her and Pepper regularly than."

You smiled for real, "He was a good friend."

Stephen squeezed your hand, a gesture that answered what words couldn't. Silence fell for a little, then he fully turned to you.

"I'm sorry you had to spend five years trying to figure this out, and me leaving you. It was only a split second for me." He looked pained, that look in his eyes that told you he was vulnerable. "But it had to happen for it to work out in the end. It had to be, so it could be like this again. So I could be here for you again."

You reached up and stroked his cheek, he leaned into your touch while not breaking eye contact.

"I'm just happy you're back."

"But you went through so much."

"I know."

"You haven't told me much about that yet."

You took a deep breath, "Stranded in space, starving and dying. Long days of trying to think of anything I could do to reverse it and working with the Avengers to do so. Protecting the Sanctum by myself, and trying to piece back together Kamar Taj and the other sanctums. Feeling alone for so long...years of wish for you back..."

Stephen instantly pulled you into him when you held back a sob. Stroking your hair and kissing your face, "I'm so sorry"

"It's not your fault..."

"If I had the chance," He started, "I would have taken your place."

Your heart broke even more.

"Don't say that."

"I would have done it in a heartbeat."

You both sat there in each others presence in comfortable silence. Then Stephen opened his mouth to say something to add, but he was interrupted.

"(Y/N)..."

The sound of a familiar voice made you turn your head, and Peter Parker was standing behind you both. He must have heard you talking about your experience. You bonded with Peter back when this all started. He is the sweetest and purest human you have ever met, and seeing the pain in his tear glittered eyes made your heart break all over again.

You instantly stood up and the two of you fell into each others arms, and the quiet sobs of you both choked out. You both cried for Tony, and you both cried for your time spent.

"Don't cry honey," You held Peter tighter, "he wouldn't want you to."

The boy looked up at you, "He wouldn't want you to either."

More tears streamed down your face, and you did your best to wipe his away. A bit away you could see his aunt May watching you both, pained at the sight she was seeing.

"You went through it all..." Peter choked, and you nodded. "What was it like?"

There was only one word to describe it: "Hell."

Peter went back into hugging you, as if he was trying to make your five years of agony better. It was like he was trying to pull the pieces of your shattered heart back together. This is what you did for him back when he was crying over Tony's body back when the battle ended, holding him to give him someone, and he wanted to return it. You smiled and looked over your shoulder at Stephen, who was trying to keep a neutral face. But you knew that face, and he felt for you.

You turned back to the boy holding you tightly, "I never forgot you though, Pete."

"I hoped you wouldn’t forget.”

#doctor strange x reader #doctor strange #stephen strange #stephen strange x reader #marvel fanfiction #marvel #avengers endgame #reader insert #reader insert fanfiction #reader #avengers #mcu #doctor strange fanfiction #benedict cumberbatch

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telehxhtrash · 3 years

Text

On the cultural lore behind the late Hunter Exam Arc and the Testing Gates Arc.

Hi ! Today I want to talk a bit about Togashi’s use of mythology, legends and lore as a way to emphasize the narrative in his story.

It’s no secret that Togashi loves to use details and symbolism in his story, but I think the Testing Gates arc is the one arc that uses this writing technique the most. In only a few chapters, Togashi manages to reference and intertwine 3 different legends to highlight the message in his narrative : Gon’s rescue mission is emphasized by the legend of Orihime & Hikoboshi, the legend of Eurydice & Orpheus, and the legend of Izanami & Izanagi.

As you may know, the early part of Killua’s character arc reflects the Tanabata legend, and it’s reinforced by the fact that his birthday falls on July 7th, the day Tanabata is celebrated. I’m going to link this post that is better written than anything I could ever write on this, so I suggest reading this before reading this post ! I’ll still go over the general details of Tanabata below though.

The legend of Tanabata can be closely paralleled to Killua’s early story arc.

Orihime worked relentlessly for her father and weaved the most beautiful clothes. She was very, very talented and worked very hard for her father.

However, Orihime lamented the fact that because of her job, she couldn’t meet someone and fall in love. All she craved was human connection, and her working for her father kept her from meeting someone and falling in love.

Her father eventually allowed her to meet someone, Hikoboshi, and they instantly fell in love.

But sadly for her father, that meant that Orihime didn’t focus on her job anymore and only focused on appreciating her time with her lover.

In anger, her father decided to separate the two lovers and forbade them to meet. (don’t take this too literally - the Zoldyck family in its entirety represents Orihime’s father)

As you can see, Killua follows Orihime’s story pretty accurately. He used to work for his family as a skilled assassin, the most skilled one in the entire Zoldyck family’s history. However, Killua lamented the fact that because of this, he couldn’t make friends. That’s his primary reason for leaving the Zoldyck Mansion : see if he could make a friend. And then, he met Gon, and it was pretty much love at first sight. The two of them enjoyed their time together, joking around and sticking together most of the time, until the final phase of the Hunter Exam where Illumi forbids Killua from seeing Gon and manipulates him into going back to the Zoldyck Mansion.

This isn’t how the Tanabata legend ends, but this is where the other 2 legends I want to talk about come into play.

Gon, after being passed out for hours as a consequence of his fight with Hanzo, learns about Killua’s fight with his brother and completely flips out. He proceeds to confront Illumi about it directly and asserts that Killua is his friend and that he’ll bring him back no matter what. After this, Leorio, Kurapika and Gon make their way to the Zoldyck Mansion to get Killua back. As they arrive at the Mansion, the tour guide proceeds to explain one of the particularities of the Zoldyck Mansion : there’s a huge gate that can only be opened by brute force. Anyone can enter, as long as they go through this door. And this is where it gets interesting.

The tour guide mentions that this gate is called “黄泉への扉”, yomi he no tobira. The gate to Yomi.

But Tele, why the fuck are you mentioning this, you may ask.

Because 黄泉, Yomi, is the land of the dead. Togashi is expressing that this is the gate to Yomi, the gate to enter the land of the dead : the Zoldyck Mansion. The Zoldyck Mansion is directly compared to Yomi.

In Japanese mythology, Yomi is where all souls go after they die. No matter if you were good or bad, you’ll end up in Yomi. It’s not Heaven, it’s not Hell, it’s just…. A place where you end up rotting forever. It’s described as gloomy and dark, empty and cold. It’s not burning in hellfire, it’s just a place where you just sort of wander aimlessly, empty for the rest of eternity.

And this cold and gloomy, empty atmosphere can directly be correlated to the Zoldyck Mansion. The tour guide mentions that this is the gate to Yomi, because if you enter, you’ll never come back, but this applies more to Killua. Killua is in Yomi right now after a trauma-induced dissociative episode. He was forcefully sent back to the Mansion, and is now being tortured by his family. If Killua stays there, it’s obvious he’ll never come back psychologically from this. He’ll be trapped in this meaningless existence, cold and empty, devoid of any passion. A life his parents chose for him, a life he doesn’t want to live, a life as Zoldyck heir. He’ll be stuck in Yomi, the land of the dead, forever.

But Gon won’t let that happen. He planned this rescue mission because Killua opened up to him about who he wants to be. He doesn’t want to live according to his family’s plans for him anymore, he wants to live a life for himself and be free. And Gon wants to help him achieve that, because he saw the good in Killua. Which is why he insisted he’d rescue Killua himself and will drag him out of the Zoldyck Mansion. He’ll get him out of Yomi.

Which leads us to the story of Izanami and Izanagi. Yomi is commonly known as Izanami’s retreat after her death, so when you hear Yomi, you automatically associate it to Izanami. And there’s an interesting piece of lore when it comes to Yomi and Izanami : Izanagi’s rescue mission. Izanami died a horrible death after being burned giving birth to the fire god Kagutsuchi : she descended to Yomi. However, Izanagi, her husband (and brother but we don’t talk about that) found himself miserable. He missed her terribly and couldn’t live a life without her. That’s why he decided to make the trip to Yomi to get her back. Izanami ended up pleading to the Gods of Yomi to let her go back to Izanagi, and the Gods ended up making her an exception and allowing her to leave.

I’ll spare you the details but the story ends tragically with Izanagi trapping Izanami in Yomi forever, her ruling over it and the both of them pretty much getting divorced.

Anyways. What matters is that when you talk about Yomi, it’s automatically linked to Izanami, and Izanami is automatically linked to Izanagi and his rescue mission. A rescue mission that also happened in HxH. Just like Izanagi, Gon decided to take the trip to Yomi, as the tour guide said, to rescue Killua from eternal damnation and be reunited with him once again.

Additionally and still in the spirit of the Yomi lore, the etymology of Yomi (黄泉) is uncertain, but it is theorized that it could come from 山, yama, meaning mountain. Izanami was buried in the mountains and Yomi was thought to be located in the mountains in ancient society, which is leading me to believe this could be the reason why the Zoldyck Estate has a mountain. So it could simply be because the Zoldyck Mansion is referred to as Yomi, and Yomi was thought to be in the mountains : hence the Zoldycks living on a mountain, fitting the Yomi lore perfectly.

There’s one last interesting thing about Yomi. Since Yomi is not Hell, it’s not where peoples’ souls go to get punished but more of a place of eternal wander, it’s oftentimes related to the Greek Underworld also known as Hades. So usually, when japanese media refers to something as Yomi, translators choose to go with “Hades”, which is the translation choice Viz made here.

So by insinuating the Zoldyck Mansion is considered as Yomi, it also connects it to the Greek Underworld, since the two are deeply connected. And interestingly enough, the first thing that pops into my head when I think of the Underworld is Orpheus and Eurydice’s story.

Orpheus and Eurydice fell in love at first sight, and enjoyed all their living moments together, however, this provoked the jealousy of one man who despised Orpheus and desired Eurydice for himself. After multiple events including a chase through the woods, Eurydice got bit by a deadly snake and died, leaving Orpheus heartbroken and alone. He couldn’t do anything but grieve and he lost his will to live without his beloved. That’s when he decided to take a trip to the Underworld in an attempt to get Eurydice back. Orpheus, armed with his lyre and his voice, was pretty much protected by the Gods as he walked through the Underworld and sang his song of love to anyone who would listen. His song and story brought tears to Hades and Persephone’s eyes, and Hades eventually accepted to make a deal with Orpheus : Eurydice has to follow him and he must not look back under any circumstance as long as they’re in the Underworld, or she will be sent back there forever.

I’ll once again spare you the depressing details, but basically, Orpheus turned back because he couldn’t bear to not look at his beloved anymore, they got separated again and Orpheus ended up grieving his entire life, ending up being killed because of it.

So once again, here, there are similarities between Gon and Killua and Orpheus and Eurydice. Falling in love at first sight ; Illumi despising Gon and wanting Killua for himself and his family, thus ending up causing a separation and sending Killua to the Zoldyck Mansion ; Gon deciding to get Killua back. And for this one, there’s one interesting thing, and I thank @gallyl very much for telling me this, but it’s very important to note that Orpheus got Eurydice back because he sang songs of love and proved his devotion to Eurydice. Gon did the exact same thing. During those 7 chapters where Gon rescues Killua, the word friend is highlighted 7 times.

Gon, and therefore Togashi, makes it a point to emphasize that his rescue mission is solely based on his love for Killua. He’s doing it out of devotion and care for him. Just like Orpheus rescued Eurydice with his song of love and brought tears to everyone’s eyes, Gon managed to go through every hardship he faced by highlighting that Killua is his friend. That’s how he managed to convince Zebro to let him train to pass the gates, that’s how he got to Gotoh and to Canary, and eventually to Silva. Because he kept on saying that he’s doing this because of his love for Killua, which eventually softened all of these people and made them get on board with his rescue mission.

Another parallel is the fact that Hades strikes a deal with Orpheus with a condition, and should the condition be broken, Eurydice will return to the Underworld. Here, it’s slightly different but still under the same spirit. Silva strikes a deal with Killua, making him promise to never betray his friend, and that if he does… he will be unworthy of his friends and will have to return home.

There are also a few other references to the Underworld in the way Togashi portrays the Zoldyck Mansion and Silva and Kikyo, but I won’t get into it too much for fear of not being too objective and reaching, so I’ll just go over one. The Greek Underworld is kept by Cerberus, a gigantic 3 headed dog. And while Togashi didn’t make Mike a 3-headed dog, he did include 3 different dogs as gatekeepers of the Zoldyck Mansion, thus keeping a connection to the Cerberus lore.

So by making one random character talk about Yomi, the japanese underworld, Togashi calls back to those two myths : the japanese myth of Izanami and Izanagi and the greek myth of Orpheus and Eurydice. Togashi put imagery for both of these legends to emphasize that they are connected to the story, and as a way to further highlight the narrative of someone rescuing someone they deeply care about.

I never finished talking about Orihime and Hikoboshi’s story, so I’ll do it now! After being forbidden to meet, Orihime pleaded for her father to let her see Hikoboshi again, until he finally agreed to let them reunite on the 7th day of the 7th month. However, when they reunited for the first time, there was no bridge to cross for them to be able to meet. That’s when a flock of magpies came and promised to help the lovers reunite, creating a bridge between the two of them, and allowing them to finally reunite.

This is once again reminiscent of the Testing Gates arc. Killua asked his dad to be able to see Gon again, until he finally accepted. However, Gon found that it was hard to cross the metaphorical bridge that are all the hardships of the Zoldyck Mansion, until a bird finally helped him : Canary. Canaries are birds that symbolize happiness, freedom and that spread joy. On top of that, I could even reach a bit and highlight that magpies, the birds that reunited Orihime and Hikoboshi are mostly recognizable by their long black tail. Canary and Gotoh, butlers, are the main reason Gon managed to get to Killua, and butlers outfits are characterized with a longer back, reminiscent of a tail, detail that Togashi also put. So it’s easy with that to associate the butlers with the flock of magpie, since they’re the reason Gon managed to get back to Killua.

The Tanabata lore started from the moment we got introduced to Killua’s character up until Killua and Gon finally reunite, and this lore was complemented by 2 other legends that highlight this beautiful narrative of rescuing a loved one.

All 3 of these legends share common themes : they feature lovers who got separated for multiple reasons and one of them pleading to higher forces to let them have their lover back. There’s a common theme of love and devotion that ends up moving the higher forces and lets the person be reunited with their lover at last. All these missions were rescue missions done in the name of love : Orihime pleaded with her father out of love, Orpheus sang his song of love to plead to Hades to let him get Eurydice back, Izanami asked the Gods to let her come back to Izanagi. And Gon begged everyone to let him see his friend. He shouted on top of every rooftop that Killua was his friend and that he’s rescuing him out of love and devotion for him, and that’s exactly what made people help him get Killua back. It’s seeing Gon’s love that made people help him, just like in those legends.

So by giving us references to these legends, by making Gon and Killua follow the same tropes as these myths, Togashi is highlighting the beautiful narrative of Gon’s rescue mission. Togashi is putting little details and symbolism to give his story more depth and make us subconsciously link together a legend about lovers wanting to reunite after being separated, and two legends about people going on a rescue mission to save their loved ones.

Killua’s story follows the Tanabata legend closely, he meets Gon and it’s love at first sight, they are happy together, until they’re separated. Then he gets sent back to the Mansion, Yomi, the Underworld, which prompts Gon to organize a rescue mission out of love, just like Izanagi and Orpheus. It’s thanks to this love that he moved Zebro, Canary, Gotoh and finally Silva, just like Izanami’s pleads moved the Gods and allowed her to (almost) leave, and just like Orpheus’ love songs moved Hades. Finally, they are reunited by a bird, Canary, and a flock of magpies, the butlers, just like in the Tanabata legend. The lovers are reunited at last, after a long rescue mission.

I can already feel the panicked asks, “but Tele, all these tales end tragically, is Killua and Gon’s relationship broken forever? Are they going to die?”. No. HxH is not a retelling of common legends. It’s not accurately and faithfully translating myths into a manga. It’s using cultural references to emphasize some narratives, and here, it’s the narrative of two lovers going against all odds to reunite with each other once again after being separated. I’ll link you to this post by @/buzzykrueger that explained it better than I could, but don’t worry, I can promise you, Togashi will never head this way. HxH is not a retelling of old tales, and he loves to subvert common classical tropes. He already subverted them many, many times in his manga, and I can guarantee you that Killua and Gon will be fine in the end.

Also, yes, I’m referring to Killua and Gon as lovers in this post, because Togashi made the conscious choice to refer to 3 pieces of lore focused on romantic love.

Thank you for reading this ! If you’re interested, I’ll link all my references below! Also, Tumblr hates me and won’t let me appear in tags anymore, so reblogs are very appreciated. Ty for reading!

• On the general legend of Tanabata : here and here

• On Yomi : here and here

• On Izanami & Izanagi : here and here

• On Eurydice and Orpheus : here

#hxh #hxh meta #meta #my meta #killugon #idk why i even bother tagging tumblr hates me #reblogs r very appreciated!!

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jamiemackenziefraser · 3 years

Text

All That Was Fair

Chapter 23: Wings of a Flutterby

Summary: “Jamie had always considered the presence of a flutterby to be a blessing.”

Read on AO3

Read chp 23 on tumblr below the cut

Previous, master list, next

A/n: After seeing a very cute thread on twitter about how Jamie canonically calls butterflies "flutterbys," I had to make the addition to this chapter because it was too soft to pass up. So, inspired by @Sassenach7471, thanks for reminding me of this sweetness!

Chapter 23: Wings of a Flutterby

***

Claire lay on her stomach in front of Jamie in the middle of the living room floor, her arms folded underneath her head as she lazed. Jamie, for his part, sat cross-legged behind her, completely and utterly enamored.

The dress she was wearing had a large open back, covered only by tiny straps, which left her beautiful, translucent wings exposed. Jamie’s fingers were delicately tracing the edge of them where they lay flat on her back. They were so incredibly soft, so delicate, that Jamie could only bring himself to give them the barest hint of a touch. But he was entranced.

He’s always been told never to touch the wings of a flutterby for fear of damaging them, so when Claire had given him permission to touch hers (after he'd gaped open-mouthed at her in that dress), it felt so deliciously forbidden. Even though he’d never exactly touched a flutterby’s wings before, he’d felt them flap against his skin as the flutterby hovered around him, the flitting sensation of softness before it was gone, out of reach. Claire’s wings felt much the same as he’d imagine a flutterby’s would if he could touch them in this way, only Claire kept hers still and on display for him to pay due reverence.

Jamie had always seen the presence of a flutterby as a blessing— if they were near him, it was because of their choice, not his. He remembered as a kid being out in his mother’s garden, sitting as still as possible in hopes that one might land on him in passing.

Claire was much the same. An ethereal creature that somehow had landed on his life, had chosen him… him… over anything else, giving herself fully and utterly without hesitation.

Growing more bold, he trailed a finger down across one of the silvery veins that stretched across her wing. Claire gave a little shudder, making Jamie pause, but it was followed immediately by a contented sigh.

“How does it feel?” Jamie asked as he continued to wander the surface of her wing with gentle exploratory touches.

“Hmmn… nice,” Claire hummed.

Jamie spared a glance up at her face to find her eyes were closed. Her cheek was squished just slightly where it lay against her arm, and Jamie nearly melted at the sight.

“Like when I touch yer skin?” he probed. In demonstration, he brought his fingers to the skin of her back in between her wings, smoothing them down along the bumps of her spine.

She shivered again, shifting her head, and then answered dreamily, “no. It’s different. I can’t really explain, it’s like… my wings are more… sensitive.”

Jamie hummed in acknowledgement and returned his touch to her wings. They fluttered a little at the unexpected sensation, flitting against his hands, and that only served to make him more eager. As they settled again, Jamie began drawing absent circles over the surface with his fingertips.

They weren’t paper thin, but still so heartbreakingly delicate. Their golden hue seemed to shimmer in the light from the window, although it was soft and barely noticeable if he hadn’t been studying them so closely. He couldn't get enough.

It was unreal.

His body was nearly trembling with excitement over this strange experience. As relaxed as Claire was, Jamie was pulsing with energy, thrilled by this newfound intimacy. He could touch her forever and never tire of it— wings or no. The thought that this strange creature was his awed him to no end...

Absorbed as he was, he barely even noticed Claire was moving until she had sat up, her wings fluttering freely as she did. Jamie drew back, not wanting to hurt her as they moved, and he sat watching like a besotted fool as she turned to him.

Her eyes seemed glazed with serenity, her whole posture carefree and relaxed. His touch had melted her into a puddle of soft warmth, and Jamie came to the realization that she was about to be all over him the second before she did just that.

She moved slowly but nonetheless insistently, and Jamie found himself absolutely covered in faerie a second later. She had straddled him and pushed him down on the floor as Jamie obediently relented. He let her drape herself over him as he leaned back, staring up at her in enrapturement. The second he was laying on the ground, Claire spread out at length upon him, she purred, “It’s your turn.”

A dhia.

“What?” He sputtered, his brain having halted all proper function at the feeling of her body spread on top of him.

Lord give him strength.

“It’s your turn,” she repeated, “On your front.”

Jamie’s brain snapped back into his head as he realized what she was asking. Getting himself in check through some monumental force of will, Jamie managed to smile up at the hooded eyes above him.

“Lass, I canna turn over when ye’re on top of me.”

Claire was too tranquil to laugh or flush. She just hummed in acknowledgement, brushed her nose against Jamie’s once (making his wame twist), and then removed herself from his body.

Jamie mourned the loss instantly, but he turned over onto his stomach as ordered, mirroring the position Claire had just been in, lounging on his front.

As soon as he was settled, soft wee hands slid under his tee shirt, pushing it up. Then, lips met skin.

He had to resist the impulse to jerk away as she kissed the scars, her lips warm and tender. No one had ever touched him fondly there— before her— and never in his life had he imagined someone kissing him the ugly evidence of his pain.

Her lips touched the scarred flesh again, this time further up, and Jamie shivered. Gooseflesh broke out along his arms as her hand smoothed down the length of his back. She took her time, her touch gentle and intentional.

“You’re so beautiful,” she said reverently.

Every insecurity in Jamie screamed at him to deny it, to say something to the contrary, or even just joke about getting her eyesight checked. But the next brush of lips made the words die in his throat. He simply remained silent as tears gathered in his eyes.

Her fingers traced the criss-cross of his scars for a long time, easing the tension from his muscles with her soft touch until Jamie was just as relaxed as his faerie.

He wasn’t expecting it when a solid weight rested on his back, and he realized she’d laid her head down on him.

“I love you,” she said softly, her fingers still tracing over his shoulder blade, “all of you.”

Jamie wished that he were sitting up— or anywhere that he wasn’t trapped like this— so he could embrace her as he answered, “that means more than ye know, mo nighean donn.”

Her hand smoothed back and forth over his side in response. He could feel her breathing— slow and deep— against him.

“Dinna fall asleep on me there, lass,” he joked quietly.

“I’m not.” She answered so softly that he wasn’t entirely convinced of the validity of the statement. “I just want you to know that I love every part of you.”

The warmth in Jamie’s chest could have melted even the most ancient ice. Claire’s loving his scars couldn’t take away his insecurities— couldn’t magically heal the years of hating his body— but she gave him hope that one day he might be able to love himself with even a fraction of the intensity with which she loved him.

Jamie pushed up on his elbows (Claire letting out a displeased noise at his disruption), and he hastily sat up to take her into his arms as he’d been wishing to do ever since she’d begun her ministrations.

She went willingly as he pulled her into his chest, and they stayed pressed together as two parts of the same whole, serenity wrapped around them with the comfort of a blanket.

***

Later that day, Jamie finally had the chance to introduce Claire to the wonders of literature. After finding out weeks ago that the fair folk didn’t have a written language, Jamie had been positively itching to introduce Claire to some of his favorite books. The choice had been brutal—Jamie being the book lover that he was— but finally, he had decided on Lord of the Rings.

As soon as the decision had been made, he’d begun to prepare Claire, telling her everything he could think of about reading and books and human literature so she’d be ready before hearing the story.

When the time finally came— and Claire had draped herself over Jamie’s lap, holding onto his neck and laying her head on his shoulder so she could stare the book as he read— Jamie found it rather hard to concentrate on the words. He had to block out her touches and reactions in order to give her the proper experience of hearing him read. After not too long, Jamie began to get the hang of it— it’d been a long while since he’d read aloud to anyone, but the story came alive as he grew more comfortable.

Claire had hummed with excitement the whole time, stifling her wonderment into Jamie’s shoulder as he read with enthusiasm.

“You’re a wonderful story teller, Jamie,” she praised during a break at the end of a chapter.

“Thank ye, lass, but it isna so hard when the story is just here in front of me.”

“You’re getting all that story from there?” she asked, pointing dubiously at the page.

“Aye, much easier than remembering the whole thing,” he answered.

She’d pressed a kiss to his cheek. “You humans are so sweet,” she said fondly, “we just treasure everything worth telling inside of us.”

“Oh lass,” Jamie said, “I canna wait until ye hear more. There’s so much out there, more than we could ever remember ourselves. I’ll make a bookworm out of ye yet.”

Getting back to business, Jamie squeezed Claire closer with his free arm and resumed reading. Her attention soon shifted from the page (which was meaningless to her) and instead rested on Jamie’s face as he read. He found himself distracted by her regard and her wandering hands that were doing their best to draw him away from his reading.

“A nighean,” he said at one point, looking away from the book to level her with a mock stern look. Her hand froze over his nose where she’d been tracing up and down the bridge of it, “I canna concentrate on reading.”

“Oh,” she said, abashed, withdrawing her hands, “sorry.”

“Are ye enjoying the story so far, a leannan?” he asked. He had to prepare himself for the possibility that he was boring her, although hearing her say out loud that she didn’t like Lord of the Rings would probably break his heart.

“I love it!” she exclaimed quickly, straightening herself against him, “it’s amazing. I’m sorry, please keep going.”

“Okay,” he chuckled, “maybe jes’ let me focus on the reading for a bit, aye?”

After they’d finished their section of reading— Jamie closing the book as if parting from an old friend— Claire pressed a sweet kiss to his cheek.

“Thank you for telling me your story,” she said softly.

He couldn’t help but laugh at hearing it referred to as “his,” but he didn’t have it in his heart to correct her outright.

“We’ll read more of Tolkien’s story another time. Would ye like that?”

She nodded enthusiastically, her curls bouncing and her smile melting his heart all over again. How could anyone ever look at her and not love her?— he wondered. He would spend all day, every day pouring out his soul just to see a glimpse of that smile.

“Would ye tell me a story of the fair folk?” Jamie asked suddenly, longing to experience a part of her world as she was experiencing his.

She raised up from where her head had just rested back on his shoulder.

“I would love to tell you a story, Jamie,” she said, but something about the tone of her voice seemed… off. Was she sad? Had bringing up her home been a mistake? “But later. I don’t know, I… I don’t really feel much like storytelling at the moment.”

“That’s alright, a leannan,” Jamie reassured, “I just want ye to ken how much I care about yer stories too.”

Claire wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her head underneath his jaw, squeezing tightly.

“I love you, Jamie,” she said.

“I love you more, mo nighean donn.”

***

#all that was fair #update #claire x jamie #outlander fanfiction #fae claire

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cassiecasyl · 3 years

Text

sometimes you just don’t know the answer (wait for me)

Anyone remember this fic? Well, I’ve finally finished it!!!!

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

or read the whole fic on ao3!!!!

chapter 4: what died didn’t stay dead

Are we all lost stars trying to light up the dark?

- Lost Stars by Keira Knightley

It’s an old tale, and that’s not how it ends.

Long, shadowy fingers wrapped around Castiel’s wrists, pulling him back, slowly and deliberately leading him to be devoured by the Empty. Dean could almost hear the universe’s malicious laugh. He’d be stripped of his love once more.

No. Ancient, familiar rage boiled his blood and he narrowed his eyes, glaring at the shadows. It was bleeding love, protective and fierce. There was no fear, because everything was already on the line — Dean had nothing left to lose. “Don’t you dare,” he growled, at nothing and everything in particular. They couldn’t lose now. Not with him standing in the light as Cas succumbed back to the dark — it wasn’t fair.

Dean did what he couldn’t back then, what shock and fear and disbelief — and perhaps, above it all, cruel, cruel, capricious Gods — prevented; he reached forward, and where he touched, he brought light with him, breaking into tiny rainbows against the universe’s shards. He disentangled Cas’s hand and grabbed them himself, holding on and never letting go.

The fabric of stars was in their hands, being overwritten as they stood there. “You’re not leaving,” Dean promised, and Cas looked up at his sun that lit up the world. Finally, Dean pulled him close, holding him in the here and now, just tightly enough to make sure that no dust escaped his vessel. “Not on my watch,” he whispered defiantly, his voice breaking, and Cas almost chuckled.

I’m the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition.

Dean breathed in his angel’s smell — home with a whiff of honey. How the sweet substance always clinged onto the vessel was a mystery, but Dean wouldn’t want it any other way. Cas nuzzled his face into the side of his neck in retaliation and Dean relaxed for the first time in years. They were safe. They made it. Cas was solid and alive and real and here. Nothing could ever bring them apart.

Golden light drowned out the retreating darkness behind Cas, and the angel looked up in admiration, that childlike adoration in his eyes that had Dean absolutely smitten. Fuck, he thought, I’m in love. Laughter bubbled up his throat, carefree like the amber sky, the beginning of a new morning.

Maybe, in this moment, they found a new destination that would always lead them back to each other's arms, or maybe it had been there all along. Their journey was the same as yours, the same as anyone’s, yet so uniquely different — they’ve defied the universe, won a challenge set up to fail. At last, they knew the way, knew where to place their feet — where they’ve always been going. Home. Turned from promise to reality, alive between their arms. Home. The long way round.

Dean loosened their hug to look the angel into his eyes — the drowning blue a sky he was falling into, or maybe, flying. He gulped, suddenly nervous like a schoolboy standing before their crush. “There’s something I need to tell you,” he said, fighting against the instinct of wanting to escape these piercing, knowing eyes, because his words held so much weight. “I—,” he started and stopped. This was stupid. He’d said it before. He just let Cas out of hell through a deal that required true love. Why couldn’t he just say it?

“I know,” Castiel intervened, always wanting to comfort him. Bless the angel.

“No,” Dean shook his head, “I need to say it. Because you deserve to hear it.” Cas’s eyes were impossibly patient, giving him all the time in the world. He was the calm ocean against his forest fire, waiting for him like he’d done for years — Dean couldn’t let him wait any longer.

“I love you,” he said, whispering the promise into the sky so it may let it be known to the whole world; Dean Winchester loves Castiel. It was a simple fact of life, and he was found.

“I know,” Cas repeated his answer, smiling. The happiness in his eyes made it all worth it.

“Can’t believe you just Han Solo-ed me,” Dean joked, and Cas bellowed out a laugh.

“I love you,” Cas said, lost and found in the moment. His heart could’ve contently jumped out of his chest right now and Dean found himself thankful Fred Jones wasn’t around.

His soul had been broken and shattered countless times, but now, every last particle constructed a wondrous mosaic with the ragged pieces of Cas’s grace, cosmic consequences pulling them together rather than apart. One could’ve called it celestial, heavenly, divine even; but it was fundamentally human, terrene.

As sunlight found them, they found each other. They were stars in the daylight, no longer dancing around each other but colliding into one. Dean almost expected an explosion as their lips met — it would’ve been fitting. But, alas, there were no fireworks, no big announcment. It was the softest touch he had ever experienced, true like nothing else. It was the sunlight warming up their bodies, the sunlight Dean flew right into. It was something he’d never thought possible — love.

They were two stars finally found, lighting up the dark, walking away from the night sky, from a graveyard. Walking home. Their light burned on, growing to a calming, graceful blue as it filled their own sky. It was filled with a love that had done everything — it had defied the universe, defied doubts and fear — and had survived. But then again, what isn’t alive can never truly die. They’d pulled it into life, away from the realm of uncertainties, of will they, won’t they.

Cas was here, alive and well, and they kissed under a rainbow. It was a fairytale, and for a moment, Dean blinked, trying to wake himself up. This could all be a dream. He could wake up any moment and still be in their bunker, sunken to the ground in sorrow. Dean drew in a shaky breath, hoping with all his might that this was real.

“I’m here,” the angel said in his heavenly voice, cupping his cheeks. Dean grabbed onto his hand, holding on for dear life. “We’re real.”

Behind them, the sun disappeared behind clouds, revealing the familiar surroundings of the map room. Home. Dean looked back at Cas and smiled. With the angel at his side, it truly was home. They made it. Dean laughed in realization, and drew Cas close again, reuniting their lips. They made it.

“I really didn’t need to see that,” Sam, ever the cockblock, interrupted. As Castiel turned away, Dean pulled him back for a quick peck, just for the hell of it. He was allowed to do that. Holy hell, he was allowed to do that. No cage in hell would ever be able to contain his grin, not ever again.

“It’s good to see you back,” Sam greeted them before Dean could think of a good retort to his earlier line. He welcomed Cas with a hug, and then embraced his brother too. The last time Dean didn’t mind everything being so lovey-dovey must’ve been when they were kids. Or maybe in the Empty. Not that he’d admit that. He briefly squeezed Cas’s hand, just to remind himself that he was still there. The angel looked at him, smiling softly, and laid his head on his shoulder, nuzzling closer.

“Castiel!” Jack stormed into the room and into his father’s arms, uncaring about Dean right next to them, who huffed in complaint. “You did it.” The kid was all smiles and laughter — one of those moments that showed his age. Dean smiled. His family was all there. For the first time in decades, he felt happy.

“Of course we did it,” Dean said, his cheeks starting to hurt with how much he was smiling. He never noticed how he could see them at the edge of his vision when he smiled wholeheartedly — something he knew was promised to happen a lot more now. “Who do you take us for?”

“The most epic love story ever written,” Jack answered and Dean blushed. Suddenly, everything was too warm and too much all at once. Realization was still sickering in, overwhelming the man. He retreated slightly, away from Castiel, even though the angel felt like safety, love, everything he’s missed for years and didn’t even realize he needed.

“Shut up,” Dean mumbled, looking down.

“It’s okay,” Cas assured him. As Dean glanced up at him, the angel’s face was lit up in admiration for his adoptive son. He had never seen something more beautiful, more serene than the love in his angel’s eyes. He was glowing with love, and Dean was basking in his light. He was the stars blinking hope into the night, the moon guiding the hunter home, the sun over a long lost planet. Otherwordly, yet wholly home.

Dean would never believe his luck. A part of him would never believe this story, scoff if told to him, memories already bathed in doubt. He couldn’t trust his own mind, could he? Soothing grace touched his mind, assuring him once more. I heard you. I’m here. We’re what’s real. I love you.

“Don’t worry, Dean,” Sam said, still chuckling. Dean’s head snapped up at his brother, being ripped so suddenly from Cas’s sweet nothings that hummed on quieter now. “I’ve known for years. It’s hardely something one can miss. Pretty much everybody knows.”

Dean opened his mouth. That’s what I’m worried about, he would’ve replied once before, and some shadows still wanted him to, but he found that he didn’t care. Something had changed, and that something was the angel at his side loving him unashamedly. Castiel, who was never afraid to love.

You changed me, Dean.

Yeah, you did too, bud.

Instead, he nodded at Sam in appreciation and wrapped an arm around his angel. They’d walked through hell and worse, and showed the universe their love, and the universe had bowed to it. There was nothing left to hide, and nothing they couldn’t beat together.

“Damn right we did it,” Dean whispered, making Cas laugh. Because if anyone could’ve done this, it was them.

#destiel #hadestown my beloved #quoth the raven; evermore #deancas #fluffy ending

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witchesoz · 2 years

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Oz Lore: Oz+ Shall we date?

Oz+ Shall We Date? is a "dating simulation visual novel" that was released as an app-game. It is part of the Shall we date? line, that revolves entirely around creating virtual harems for girls (or boys that like to pass off as girls). Anyway, they had an habit of reinventing several famous stories, turning all the characters into beautiful boys and men and centering the new plot around dating and romance. They did Alice in Wonderland for example. And, as you can guess from the title, they also did Oz. But if I want to talk about this subject, it is because the lore they created in this game is actually really fascinating - because they take a big inspiration from the books rather than the movie (the only element they take from the movie is Dorothy's dress). And the most interesting thing of them all is how they treat the Witches. [Note: This game was actually "terminated" before being able to be finished, so we still lack a lot of info about it, the final updates never being released. And of the few Tumblr blogs that talked extensively about the game, a lot of them disappeared during the great Tumblr purge. So I will need to go watch videos of the game on Youtube - I will probably update this post later). So... The basis of this game is that Dorothy is brought back to Oz by all her friends, who want to celebrate her 17th birthday. This game happens after the events of the first book. But as the parties goes on, Dorothy finds out that she is forced to choose a boyfriend among all of the Ozian characters - and that the fate of the world depends on it. (Here is the spoilery part): as it turns out, Oz is coming to an end. Earthquakes and strange phenomena accumulate, signs that the end of times has come. But an ancient prophecy talked about it and said that a young human girl (Dorothy) needed to be in Oz, and to find her true love there, and to share a true love kiss, in order to recreate Oz and save it from complete destruction.

Among these candidates, we find, as I said previously, the four Witches of Oz - here, males, the Four Wizards of Oz, rulers of the country, all young and beautiful. But do not trust their smooth faces - they are actually old, really old. Becoming a Wizard implies an eternal youth and a great longevity, to the point of near-immortality. Because yes, one becomes a Wizard - all of them used to be normal, regular "mortal" beings. To turn into a Wizard means two things. One, you will become an incredibly powerful being, able to do magic, with a near-immortality, respected and feared by all in Oz... But there is a catch. There is a price to pay, a cost to magic: each Wizard receives in exchange of his magic a curse, often tailored based on the Wizard's previous life. The four Wizards also have a very important role in Oz because they were its creator. You see, a long time ago, the land of Oz was a land where no living being could survive, a desolated landscape. The four Wizards gathered together and united their powers to turn Oz into a beautiful land full of life, animals, plants and colors - and their power still maintains and protects Oz. That is why the Wicked Wizards were brought back to life. Because yes, the Wicked Wizards are back, baby ~ Anyway, let's begin the profiling... # Solomon, or Lord Solomon, the Wizard of the South. He is THE most powerful sorcerer in all of Oz, and after the disparition of the Wizard of Oz he became the de facto ruler of the country. He is basically able to do any kind of magic, to perform any spell, he just waves his hand and it is done. He gave bird wings to Dorothy to allow her to dance in the air (Solomon himself being an incredible dancer), he took possession of Toto to speak through him, and he can even control transformation magic, the ability to shapeshift, something no other Wizard controls. There is only one magic he can't control or perform: resurrection magic. He can't bring back the dead. Solomon is a Good Wizard, a kind and just ruler, a monarch beloved by all, a fair man that listens to the concern of everyone and treats all people equally, always trying to be a kind counselor and to do what he can to alleviate people's fears. He especially loves his country, the Quadling Country, the Red Land of the South, the hottest and sunniest part of Oz - if he wasn't there, the country would return to its original state, a dry and scorching desert. The "cost" of his magic manifests as a crystal, currently located in the basement of his castle in the Quadling city. This crystal is the source of his magic - if he is too far away from it, his powers will fade away and he will feel a physical pain through his body. Inside the borders of his country (and even more inside his castle) he is all-powerful and immortal, but outside of the Quadling country he becomes sick and can die if he doesn't come back to the crystal very fast. This price seems to have been given to him because before being a Wizard he was a great traveler, exploring seas and continents, discovering the world. In term of appearance, Solomon is a young and thin man, with a tanned skin and a very elvish look - two long pointy ears, a delicate face, ruby-red eyes as well as shoulder-long, waving blond hair, usually dressed in white, red and pink outfits (often with a lot of feathers). He is also the one that brought back Dorothy to Oz, perfectly knowing of the prophecy according to which she would help "recreate" Oz, and encouraging her to find a boyfriend quickly.

# Wesley, the Wizard of the West. The Wizard of the West that Dorothy defeated during her first travel, now brought back to life. He was resurrected by Solomon's order, half because they needed him to maintain the Winkie country from returning to its original, unhospitable state (I actually ignore what was the Winkie Country before the Wizards made it habitable), but also half because Solomon wanted to give Wesley a second chance, a chance at redemption. Because you see, in this lore, the Wicked Wizards weren't considered wicked because they were evil - they were called "wicked" because they merely tyranized their people, and ruled badly their countries, leading it to their ruin. They never tortured or killed anyone, but they were slowly killing their countries. The Good Wizards all brought an evolution to their domains: the Gillikin Country became the main industrial zone of Oz thanks to Norton, the Quadling City became prosperous thanks to Solomon, the Emerald City became the most famous landmark of Oz thanks to the Wizard. But under the rule of the Wicked Wizards, their countries were stuck into a stasis, and on certain aspect even regressed to a more primitive state. As a result, Wesley isn't an evil person. Yes, he did horrible things in the past, is very well aware of that and dislikes talking about it. But deep down, he isn't evil, and hopes to show to the world a different side of him, a kinder and better side. Which will be quite hard because everyone still fears him - to the point that when Dorothy dates him, the people of Oz fear that she actually is turning evil. Dorothy at first tries to be nice to him to apologize for killing him by accident with the water, and Wesley is originately just interested into her because she defeated him, but quickly their feelings will turn into ~love~. And it seems to be the key to unlocking the best side of Wesley: all he needed was supportive friends, hope of a second chance, and love to become much, much nicer. We know that he had a dark and troubled past he doesn't speak much of, and hates remembering. He was abandonned by his mother and raised in an orphanage. He used to be a sweet, happy, lovely kid, but, when asked about it, Wesley claims that he can only remember from his childhood bad things and horrible experiences. The first person to ever show him some kindness was apparently Earnest, the Wizard of the East, of which he became the pupil, and that he adored. For Wesley, Earnest was a teacher in magic, a big brother figure, almost a hero, and that is why he was really pissed of when Dorothy crushed him with her house. (There is a theory about Wesley's past that I'll mention later) It should also be noted that Wesley is actually the youngest of the four Wizards. Outside of that, Wesley is shown to be quite a braggart, very proud of his magic. He also likes to "trash talk" and insult Dorothy's companions. He has a very hard time saying nice things to people or talking about his feelings, he has to be really pushed to do so. And he also tries to push away people and to stop them from being kind to him because he feels like he doesn't deserve it, sincerely believing that he is an "evil sorcerer" at heart - he even tries to break Dorothy's heart to "protect her" from him. In terms of powers, Wesley's main ability resides in his right eye, his red eye (his other eye is black). This eye contains his power of divination - with it he can see or guess where things, objects or being are. Outside of that his magic is electric - he can for exemple throw electricity bolts at people, and he is also talented in terms of teleportation. He usually wears an eyepatch on his magic eye to block its power for his everyday life. But the price for his magic is his weakness to water: water burns him like acid and makes him melt. But only liquid water - when water is in its solid or gazeous form, it can't harm him. However, when it is liquid, water can kill him - even tears. (He also can apparently stand water when it is mixed enough with another substance). This curse was given to him presumably because he grew up in a portuary town. In terms of appearance, Wesley is a young and muscular man with a square jaw, long black hair, and a quite revealing robe, black and golden, with a strange spotted pattern.

# Norton, the Wizard of the North. Norton is the second most powerful sorcerer of Oz, right next to Solomon - in fact, he acts mostly as Solomon's assistant and servant. However, while Norton respects deeply Solomon, he still has his own plans and agendas, and sometimes opposes himself to Solomon. He rules over the Northern Land of the Gillikins, a cold and frozen place, filled with ice and snow and with long, dark nights ; a country that, without his magic, would turn into an unhabitable tundra. He also took over the Munchkin Country after Earnest's death. Norton actually is quite different in this game than how Dorothy remembers him. She remembers a kind and loving Wizard, yet here is cold, distant, unemotional. He smiles, but as Dorothy says "his smile doesn't reach his eyes". Later, he even kidnaps Dorothy in his castle against her will and forbids her from leaving, while still acting kindly - but he clearly starts acting as a villain, to the point the other characters doubt that he is a "Good" Wizard anymore. This is later explained by two things: 1- His curse is starting to take a toll on him. You see, Norton's price for using magic is that the more he practices magic, the more tired he feels after his spells, and when he sleeps, he is plagued by bad dreams - dreams that become worse and worse with each spell, to the point that now they are atrocious nightmares. This worsened his mood considerably. On top of that, Dorothy mentions that when he sleeps he becomes cold and lifeless, looking almost like a corpse. 2- Norton is also aware of the prophecy according to which Dorothy will "recreate" Oz. The only trouble is that Norton wishes for Oz to stay exactly the same as it is, he is deeply afraid of change. That is why he kidnaps Dorothy and tries to control her (in fact at one point he even erases her memory so that she forgets that she is the "chosen one", but it wears off). But he still wishes for Oz to be saved, just like Solomon. The only difference is that Solomon agrees to merely be a "watcher" in this process and to let happen whatever will happen. While Norton wants Oz to be recreated in an identical way, and doesn't want Dorothy to change it in any way (in the game we see that the land of Oz already starts to adapt itself to Dorothy's moods and emotions from time to time). Norton's greatest fear is to see Oz destroyed or in ruin, and this is why he tries to prevent Dorothy from interfering in this whole "end of the world" business. Of course he will get over it and let Dorothy fulfill the prophecy. In terms of power, Norton can still put a "protection charm" on Dorothy by kissing her on the forehead, just like in the book. As I mentionned above he also can erase people's memory for a time, and knows a bit about teleportation magic, but not much. But his main power is his control of resurrection magic - he is the only Wizard among the four able to bring back people from the dead (in fact, he is the one that brought back Wesley after his death). (In general Norton seems like a very protective and defensive Wizard, wishing to protect Oz of any damage Dorothy could cause to it, but also protecting very well his own country - for exemple he created a waterfall-barrier to prevent Wesley from setting foot in the Gillikin country.) As for the "irony" of his price, this deep tiredness mixed with those dreadful nightmares... It seems to be linked to his hard-working and very talented nature: Norton is a man with many abilities and many hobbies: he reads all the time, he is an artist that often draws or paints, he knows how to sing and dance, and he also regularly cooks. In term of appearance, Norton is a young man with a sharp face and very light purple hair. He dresses in a golden and purple gem-decorated outfit (with touches of red and burgundy. We can also notice a purple runic symbol drawn on his forehead. Players often prefer Norton over Solomon in terms of Good Wizards, because Solomon actually feels like an omniscient and transcendant deity, always perfect, while Norton due to his great suffering is much more human and weak. In his route, Dorothy also has to support him in two ways: one, helping him separate his nightmares from reality (because Norton is so haunted by his bad dreams that he starts to think them real, especially those about Oz's iminent destruction), and two, by helping him learn to do things with other ways than magic. It is indeed another trait of the Wizards: they are so used to do magic for everything in their life that they can't understand that one would prefer to do something without it. For exemple when Dorothy refuses to be teleported by magic, and rather asks to walk from one place to another, the Wizards are shocked and confused by such a decision.

# Earnest, the Wizard of the East. Now Earnest is thought to be dead for most of the game until he suddenly pops up in a late addition, miraculously alive to the surprise of everyone. He was supposed to have his own story revealed in the game's final update, the one that never happened, so unfortunately his story will stay mostly a mystery. But we already know a lot thanks to all we learned throughout the rest of the game. Earnest was one of the two Wicked Wizards of Oz, ruling over the land of the Munchkins that he created out of a swamp - without his power, and without the intervention of Norton, the East would have returned to being an hostile bog. He was the one that delivered the prophecy about Dorothy and the end of Oz that kicked the events of the game, and he was also the one that got crushed by Dorothy's house. In fact, Earnest's main power was the one of prophecy, he was a sort of oracle for the Wizards, explaing that he heard the "voice of Oz and that it revealed to him what would happen or what happened in the past. The only trouble was that he was foolish with his prophecies - he often ignored or forgot them, having to note down the most important ones to remember them. That is why for exemple his prophecy about Dorothy and the end of Oz came fragmented and blurry to the other Wizards, because he didn't had all of the details. In general, this was Earnest biggest problem, and why he was branded a "Wicked" Wizard. He was just... not careful. He didn't care. He was irresponsible. He was foolish, imprudent, clumsy. He also had a great lack in empathy, never taking into account or considering other people's emotions. As the other Wizards put it, he was "powerful, but immature". He was the kind of Wizard that would accept to grant people's wishes for a price, but forget to specifiy them what this price is or how it will be collected. Earnest seems to have a certain control over space and dimensions, or maybe simply of travels : he is able to create a portal that links permantly Oz to the Kansas, and he is also able to make people enter another person's dreams. But all of that for a price - people have to "pay" the spell by abandoning some of their memories. With Earnest, everything has a price, but it is unclear if this price is really the one of his magic, or if it is a price he puts on his spells for selfish reasons. Because you see, while it isn't specified in the game, it is pretty obvious that his "curse", his "cost", is a great hunger. He is always hungry and constantly thinking of talking about food. The Munchkins fear him because they are terrified at the idea that he would steal food away from them - apparently it is something he did often when he ruled, leading to famines in the Munchkin Country. He can't stand the feeling of hunger, which can make him faint or lose consciousness. But more than anything... he can eat memories. The memories people "pay" his spells with, he devours them, commenting that he dislikes the taste of bad memories but adores the one of good memories. In fact, at one point he will take Dorothy's memory of Kansas and devour them. As a result it is highly unclear if sacrificing memories is indeed the "regular" payment for his magic, or if it is conning people into stealing their memories. [Another theory is rather that his cost is rather a loss of memory - it has been noted that Earnest is quite a forgetful person. On another note, he actually eats memories by turning them into physical goods - we see him turn some of Dorothy's memories into a lollipop, an obvious reference to the Lollipop guild from the movie] In fact, here comes a theory that run around - we know that Wesley was the pupil of Earnest in term of magic, and the one that taught him everything about being a Wizard, his "big brother" of some sort. And we also know that, despite apparently being a happy child, Wesley has no good memory whatosever of his childhood, only remembering traumas, abuses and the like. All the clues seem to indicate that Earnest actually devoured all of the good memories of Wesley, prompting him to turn to wickedness. There is also an off-hand mention that Earnest used the Munchkins as means or tools to "amuse" and "distract" himself, whatever that means. Earnest's appearance is the one of a young and thin man, with a childish, small face, red eyes and thick, messy white hair covering almost half of his face. He dresses in a strange outfit, a strange mix of robe and cloak, black, white and orange.

(On an aside I really love how the designers of this game actually took back the idea that white is the color of Witches - it was included in the design of every Wizard. Solomon wears white and his platinum-blond hair is almost white. Norton's hair are so light they are almost white, and his outfit is also sometimes so ight it also looks white. The tips of Wesley's dark hair are white, and Earnest's hair as well as his outfit are white.) Of course, the Wizards aren't the only choice of "boyfriends" for Dorothy. She can also fall in love with her three old traveling companions - now all kings in Oz, and all humans. Yes! Because Solomon, to their demand, accepted to grant them a human appearance. The Scarecrow became Crowlie, the blue-haired ruler of Emerald City. Now equipped with a brain (and a heart thanks to his human transformation) he is constantly seeking new knowledge, reading all of the time and searching all the info he can find about the land of Oz. A big part of his story is that he needs to learn that knowledge isn't everything and that you need more than that to understand people and be a good ruler. We also see that he has some struggles and shame in ruling the Emerald City - he lacks the authority or charisma the Wizard of Oz had, and when the Wizard actually comes back and is treated like a rock star by the Ozians, it hurts a bit his feelings. And in terms of romanticism, the trouble is that Crowlie learned everything about love from books, thus leading to quite an awkward time as Dorothy's "boyfriend". Crowlie also seems to be much more in love with the idea of Dorothy than Dorothy herself, he still thinks of her as the "angel" and the "savior" that helped him and gave him everything he has.

The Tin Man is now Heartmann, the blond and green-eyed king of the Winkies (Solomon will force Wesley to visit the West to see how it flourished under Heartmann's rule, and to learn from him how to be a good king). He is the nicest and sweetest character of the entire game, loving with all of his might Dorothy, smiling all of the time, perpetually happy thanks to his big heart - but his heart also makes him cry easily over the slightest reason, which is kind of a recurring joke. He is also the more mature of the suitors - knowing very well that Dorothy can't stay in Oz and will have to go back, he tries to restrain himself from being too loving and from involving himself too much with her. A big criticism that the players have against his character is that he is a bit too insecure about his feelings, cutting himself emotionally from Dorothy too easily and being too easily pushed away from her.

The Cowardly Lion is now Leonardo, a brown-skinned, beige-haired, muscular boy with grey eyes and lion ears. Thanks to his courage he is now a coward anymore - in fact it is quite the opposite, he is now what one could call a "fearless fool", very energetic, very lively, but quite "dense" and a bit dumb, not realizing the gravity or threats of some dangers. He is childish, but he is still the "king of the forest", ruling over an entire kingdom of talking animals - and he is noted to have a "big and reliable stature". His only downside is that he actually has a hard time controlling his animal urges - he was a lion until very recently and has a hard time adjusting to being a human. He is a glutton and a very messy eater, devouring his food like... well like an animal. He doesn't have any sense of personal space, and he can become a bit too easily lustful or aggresive. In fact, part of his story is that he needs to learn to control himself and to behave in a proper manner around Dorothy (I can't help but think that this incarnation of the Lion borrows heavily from the Hungry Tiger).

Finally, our last option is Oz himself, the Great and Powerful Wizard of Oz - not an old man anymore, but now a strapping, beautiful, sexy man. A true showman with a true love (if not obsession) with hot air balloons, he actually came back to Oz partly because he wanted to make-up for leaving Dorothy behind. He is quite the flirty man, seducing many women he encounters in Oz, Dorothy being just one of many. He is in a conflicting relationship with Wesley, the two often throwing insults at each other, even though they share one same love for mocking Dorothy's companion. But while Wesley mocks them in a brutal and harsh way, almost insulting, Oz's mockeries are much more subtle and ironic. He is also shown to crave people's attention - he loves to make a show out of himself and to be surrounded by big crowds. He knows all the tricks to seduce an audience or to attract people's attentions, and he is also quite infatuated with the idea of him and Dorothy becoming a couple - he thinks that the former ruler of Oz and the hero that killed the Wicked Wizard would become a true legend. There is only one thing he deeply hates and that makes him angry: when people consider that his "stage magic" is nothing but worthless tricks. Oh yes, that sets him off real fast. In general, the character of Oz has been criticized for not really feeling like he was in love with Dorothy - in fact, it seems he only tries to seduce her for his own good image, as well as just to taunt and mock the other characters.

#oz lore #oz+#Oz+ shall we date?#shall we date?#video game #visual novel #the cowardly lion #the scarecrow #the tin man #witches #wizards #wicked witches #good witches #wicked witch of the west #good witch of the north #good witch of the south #wicked witch of the east

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