#first big dynamic piece with two characters !! wee!!!

[mokadevs]

"i want to see more of that side of you"

#arknights #texas arknights #arknights texas #lappland arknights #arknights lappland #i am So excited for il siracusano #sorry there wasnt art for a bit i graduated and now my wrists been hurting #and so when i draw its usually working on comms #which that in itself has been going slowly #but NONETHELESS #been chipping away at this for a while and im pretty happy with it :)) #a lot to improve on still #but!!!! #first big dynamic piece with two characters !! wee!!! #kiki draws

[carewyncromwell]

"Although I'd like to join the crowd In their enthusiastic cloud, Try as I may, it doesn't last..."

x~x~x~x

Happy Halloween, all! In the past, I've drawn several pieces featuring my MC's as characters from some of my favorite animated movies, and in honor of that tradition, I decided this year I'd try my hand at Carewyn and Jacob's mum, Lane Cromwell, casting her as Sally from Tim Burton's The Nightmare Before Christmas!

My history with The Nightmare Before Christmas is a very long one. You young whippersnappers who weren't around when this movie came out might not know this, but when the film was first released, it was NOT the big marketing cash cow that it is now. On the contrary, it was a cult classic at best. Disney had so little faith in the project while it was in production that it was even put out under the Touchstone Pictures banner, rather than with its official company branding. The film's original theatrical trailer, as well, was not a great representation of the film we got, to the extent that when my mum saw it -- especially the scene of the kid pulling the head out of the box at the end -- she was so horrified that she declared there was no way her two-year-old daughter would ever watch something like that. Fortunately my father (who was both a bit younger and more avant-garde and nerdy in his media tastes) already knew Tim Burton for his previous works like Batman and Pee Wee's Big Adventure, and he persuaded Mum to give the movie a chance. Mum was still incredibly skeptical, but we still went to go see it as soon as it came out. And shockingly, not only did I fall in love with The Nightmare Before Christmas at once at the ripe old age of two, but both my dad AND my mum loved it too! And from that year on, it was a holiday staple in our family, one we watched and sang along to every single year without fail. It was The Nightmare Before Christmas that made Mum fall in love with the music of Danny Elfman, and even if she honestly isn't a big Tim Burton fan, she has enjoyed every soundtrack Elfman's ever written for Burton's films. So it was really wholesome for me to draw Lane -- a character partially inspired by my mother -- as our favorite ragdoll, Sally. Like Sally, Lane may be quiet and not as charismatic or dynamic around people as Jack, but she is sweet, sensible, and sharp as a whip, and she will do whatever she has to in order to be free.

Hope you're all well! Much love!! xoxo

#hphm #hogwarts mystery #my art #lane cromwell #halloween #the nightmare before christmas #personal

[heybatterbats]

List 5 things that make you happy, then put this in the askbox for the last 10 people who reblogged something from you! get to know your mutuals and followers (ू•‧̫•ू⑅)♡

Thank you so much! Wow, my first ask!! 😁😁😁

1. Fandom makes me happy! I’m already loving running a fandom blog, it’s so much fun! I spent the first day sending slightly panicked asks to the biggest blogs I could think of, asking how the heck do I do this. I spent the second day following every blog I could find. My dashboard is hopping with content now, and I love it so much!

2. The Batfamily makes me happy! I do write for other fandoms, sometimes- I have an X-men/Avengers fic I’m working on. But the Batfamily, and DC in general, just took hold of my heart. I love the characters and all the dynamics you can play with. I love that it ranges from soft, goofy slice-of-life to dark, edgy pieces that kick you in the teeth and make you think, to everything in between. I love this fandom!

3. Writing makes me happy! I’ve already posted two out of thirteen parts to my 2023 spooky fic, and I’m having a ball! I have so much fun writing my various stories, playing around with my word choices, style choices, tenses and POVs…and seeing everyone’s reactions is probably my favorite part. I had someone on my darkest fic tell me that the new chapter made them want to gouge their eyes out with a spoon, and that’s one of the highest compliments I’ve ever received!

4. Performing makes me happy! I’m an actor/dancer- I’m currently in rehearsals for The Nutcracker and a short play with my college. I’m in love with the stage and hope to make it a career one day! I dance every day right now, and act once a week, and it’s so much fun seeing all my studio/theater friends so often. And I love making the audience laugh! One of my Nutcracker roles- lead Polichinelle- is a comic one, I get to mess up the whole scene on purpose and then finish with a big slide into a pose like I’m just so proud of myself for getting absolutely everything wrong. I just love it, and I know the audience is going to be laughing their heads off when we perform it, and I’m going to be the happiest I’ve ever been!

5. My cat makes me happy! I have a cat called Marmalade- he’s big, orange, fluffy, and dumb as a box of rocks. He likes to bite my knees. He ripped a hole in my last pair of ballet tights because he climbed up my leg for treats. He crashes into stationary objects regularly. He thinks he can kill the water in my sink. He wants to eat whatever I’m eating no matter what it is. He farts a lot. He screams in the wee hours of the morning. He’s my baby and I love him to bits.

Uhhh…well, only one person has reblogged from me as of right now, so I guess I’ll just do them and add the other nine as it happens?😅 Thanks so much for this, I had a lot of fun with it!

#fandom #fandom tumblr #batfam #batfamily #dc comics #writing #fic writing #ask #answering stuff #thank you!

[amortentiaboys]

top five of 2020

Rules: It’s time to love yourselves! Choose your 5 (ish) favourite works you created in the past year (fics, art, edits, etc.) and link them below to reflect on the amazing things you brought into the world in 2020. Tag as many writers/artists/etc. as you want (fan or original) so we can spread the love and link each other to awesome works!

thank you so much @lazywonderlvnd and @fw00shy for the tags, you incredibly talented beans!!! it is an honour to know you and read your work. i only fell down the drarry rabbit hole last month yet in that short space of time, i have found a community with so much love to give. 2020 has been tumultuous, to say the least, but the drarry fandom and all the friends i’ve made have been an absolute rock. i started to write drarry because escaping into the wizarding world where people can make horrible mistakes and still have hope of redemption was soothing (also, harry and draco have always been my otp). i came to the fandom to write about two idiot wizards pining after each other, but i’m staying for all the incredible writers, readers, friends, mods, gif makers, artists, meta-writers and the collective imagination that we all have.

but enough of my sappiness!! i’m incredibly proud of the microfics and ficlets i’ve produced over the past month so without further ado, here are my top five personal faves:

Amnesia Series

this was one of the first pieces of writing i did for the fandom!! i wrote this at a time when i wasn’t even sure if Drarry Microfic was going to be more than just me writing into the void. i’ve never been more happy to be wrong. it was also great trying to balance the angst with the fluff; a flangst sandwich, if you will.

Shadow

so my brain had been bugging me for the past week over the subject of Draco’s patronus: what would it be? in what scenario would it first be cast? most of all, what would Draco’s reaction be? this microfic was a lesson in balancing worldbuilding with the character’s emotions, and i think??? i managed it?? and i got a glimpse of what my version of Draco will be like when i eventually get around to writing longer stuff, which is hella exciting!!!

Gallivanting and Other Such Shenanigans

this is a wee ficlet i wrote!! all the credit for the premise goes to the lovely @franciswilloughby and @missdrarrydawn, without which this lil ficlet wouldn’t even exist. this is my fave dialogue that i’ve written so far (as well as Sibney’s in “Nothing Has To Change Today”), and this was the first time that i think i nailed Harry’s character.

Luminous

for this one, i challenged myself to write a ~*vibe*~ and i think it worked!! i’d just watched Stardust for the bazillionth time, so that was a big influence. it’s probably the sappiest thing i’ve ever written (which is saying something lol), but i’m proud of the style and the ~*vibe*~ and that’s all that matters!!

nothing has to change today

all the credit for the premise of this drabble goes to @cibeewastaken - Draco wallowing whilst listening to Billie Eilish was just too good an idea to leave!!! i’m so proud of this one because i really pushed myself. it was my first time creating an OC for the HP canonverse and i’m so glad i did; all hail Sibney the House Elf and all that she has to put up with!! this is also the first ficlet that doesn’t have Draco or Harry as the narrator which was Very Cool and makes the piece what it is!!!! Blaise and Hermione plotting together is now my absolute fave dynamic.

tagging @royaldynazty, @skeptiquexx, @graymatters, @drarrystan22, @curlyy-hair-dont-care, @samunderthelights, @colormehazelnut, @onbeinganangel, @practicefortheheart, @tsauergrass, @unicorn-in-the-library, @xanthippe74 and anyone else that wants to do this. i know i’ve forgotten a few people, so forgive me pls!!!

#my fic #fic: microfic #fic: drabbles

[ghostiewriter]

meet theodore montgomery | character inspection

This is an insight into Theodore Montgomery, a character commonly used within my outer banks fanfictions. He’s portrayed as Pope’s boyfriend, and to save myself from having to explain his personality in each piece of work, I decided to make this post where you could learn all you like about Theo and still enjoy the fanfics he’s in!

Theodore Montgomery is a loveable, coffee-addicted teddy bear that stole the heart of Pope Heyward. He grew up in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania with his mother. His father in and out due to his work in the military, however, when Theo was 8 years old, he lost his father in the line of duty. Theo tried to hold onto the good memories he had of his father, but the loss of a father figure in his life did has some lasting effects. It definitely made him a much more protective, cautious person in relationships. It takes him a while to get close to people, but once he does, he is a very affectionate and caring person who has no shame in expressing how he feels.

In most pieces of work, Theo will either be someone who has moved to Outer Banks or will be someone that Pope has met during college. His interest lies with Art History, which is very clear when you see his general aesthetic. He wouldn’t say he’s prestigious but he definitely has a lot of opinions. He is generally quite outspoken and extroverted, the type of person that thrives being the centre of attention.

Theo and Pope’s relationship is almost like the definition of “opposite’s attract”. Unlike Pope who struggled to accept and figure out who he was in such a small, judgemental town where uncertainty was seen as a weakness, Theo always had a sense of surety in his identity. It was an odd concept for him, that realisation at a fairly young age that these feelings he had weren’t deemed as “normal” at the time. Luckily with such an accepting mother, he had a safe environment to find himself and figure out who he was. It is something he is incredibly grateful for, and he wished his boyfriend had a similar experience. However, Pope has definitely grown and learnt to accept himself better with the help of Theo, who acted as a strong support system for him.

Theo did struggle slightly trying to fit into the Pogue dynamic. He didn’t want to oppose, but Pope was adamant that he fit in with his best friends. Theo was worried that his relationship with Pope would change when they were around his friends—an insecurity which developed after a few bad relationships—but he was pleasantly shocked to find out that Pope’s friends were very different. It took a little bit of working out but Theo soon felt like he had comfortably fit into Pope’s life just as well as he did with his.

Also a few wee random facts about Theo: he is sucker for young adult fantasy books, Jacob Black from The Twilight Saga was his gay awakening, he is a big dessert person, his favourite colour is yellow and if he had to be stuck on an island with any celebrity it would have to be Ryan Reynolds or Will Smith.

Theo is known to have quite a strong personality which can be a bit off-putting at first. It’s just that he has a lot of emotions and has always been taught to express them as he sees fit. He knows he can seem like quite a lot at first, but he would like to think it’s all a part of his charm. Once you get to know him and befriend him, you will see how caring and protective he can be. He lost his father at a young age, it gave him slightly commitment issues and so sometimes it can take a while but if you’re friends with Theo, then he sees it as a long-time contract. You guys are in this together now, no getting out of it. It sounds daunting but he can be a bit clingy. He’s one of the best friends you’ll ever have, blindly loyal and will follow you to the end of the world.

He is aware of his flaws though. He is stubborn beyond belief, and I mean it when I say that this boy has a memory like no one’s business. He may not hold a grudge for long but he will remember every way you’ve wronged him. And if you get into an argument with him? Well, good luck buddy, because he will be bringing up any sort of wrongdoing from three years ago. It took him a while to find that self-love and realise his own worth, and now that he has it? He won’t be letting go of it anytime soon.

He naturally an extroverted person, constantly being able to talk and entertain anyone no matter where he is. He believes that is one of the things that attracted Pope to him, beyond his own intellectuality (even if he isn’t as scientifically and analytically viewed as Pope). Theo loves to be the person to make people smile and laugh and think and just have a generally good time. It goes quite healthily with Pope’s much more subdued vibe.

Overall, Theo seems like the type of person who would be quiet, sombre and generally keeps to himself. Hate to tell you that you are wrong. Theo has a large, expressive soul that he most definitely isn’t keeping hidden. But he is a loyal, trustworthy friend who you can trust with your life.

In terms of overall relationships, Theo is fairly well off. Even to strangers, he is always acting as though he has known the person for longer than five minutes. He does his best to make sure no one feels awkward or uncomfortable, even if you are passing him in the street or have been his best friend for three years. Theo thrives to make sure that it’s a mutually rewarding relationship between you two.

In his more personal relationships, it’s deeper than this. His relationship with his mother is one that he views as very important. His mother is his best friend, and he has no shame in admitting that. For a very long time, they only had each other. Theo learnt very quickly that no matter what happened, his mother was one of the few constants in his life, and he never took it for granted. Cassie Montgomery is one of the sweetest people you will ever meet in your life. She is always happy and smiley, going out of her way to bake people cookies and help out at local charities when she isn’t working. She is literally an angel and Theo couldn’t be prouder to call her his mother.

His relationship with Pope is one that would surprise people. Due to the contrasting personalities and interests, people tend to assume that they clash a lot—art vs science? Never a good combination in people’s eyes. But Pope and Theo exceed those expectations. They just click. Opposites attract and all that jazz. Theo helped bring out a more expressive, open side to Pope. His sexuality was definitely a struggle to come to terms with whilst growing up in a small town where your business was everyone’s business and breaking from the norm was like social suicide. But with Theo, all these feelings and struggles felt…insignificant. He validated all emotions, made him realise that these fears and worries were not worth risking his happiness and hiding who wants to be. And Pope helped be Theo’s anchor (not in a teen wolf way, lads, Theo ain’t a werewolf). Theo is known to have his thoughts run, his mind go wild and his life just be put on high speed. But it’s Pope that puts a hand on his shoulder and helps him calm down, stay grounded and in the moment. Their relationship is one of the purest and equal ones you could ever ask for, and it’s beautiful.

Theo’s relationship with the Pogues is an interesting one. It took some time but Theo found it easy to slip into the dynamic. Sarah was definitely the easiest for Theo to really get to know and bond with. She was on the same level as him with his extravagance, and it was amazing to talk to someone about different broadways and musicals—Pope was never a huge fan, even though he pretended to be. John B was just happy to see Pope happy, and so he instantly took a liking to Theo. It took him a while to get used to the hugs—Pope didn’t lie when he said JB was an affectionate guy—but he knew that John B was someone who you could always rely on. Kiara took a little bit more effort than the other two, purely because she just didn’t want Pope to get hurt. Theo was the first boyfriend Pope had ever brought to the Pogues, Kiara just wanted to make sure that Theo was as into the relationship as Pope was. Once she saw the love between them, she gave Theo the greenlight and happily accepted him. JJ was quite difficult as well. Theo was this city boy—a little too kook-like for JJ just to accept him right away. Gradually, he saw how happy Theo made Pope, how much brighter and cheery Pope was, and realised that Theo was a genuine guy. After that, Theo was accepted into the Pogues’ dynamic with no problem.

In terms of physical health, Theo has few issues. He is quite fit—not a huge fan of exercising but he does enjoy running or basic cardio, especially when he is stressed or in the need to clear his mind. He is also quite a picky eater (that is also because he has a few allergies), so in terms of his diet, it is very consistent and healthy. However, he does suffer from asthma (which is somewhat ironic with his hobby of running) but it was far more serious when he was younger. As he got older, it became less of an issue. It only tends to get bad when it’s particularly cold or he is has been doing some serious exercise. Otherwise, Theo remains physically healthy.

His mental health is a little different. It isn’t the most obvious thing necessarily when you meet Theo or see his ostentatious personality, but he has dealt with a general anxiety disorder for majority of his life. He has an annoying wee habit of constantly overthinking and feeling the need to prove himself. It was something that affected him as a child and still does now. Over the years and having went to therapists and councillors, he has learnt better ways to deal with all these emotions and thoughts. There are still days where it’s particularly bad, but he is grateful that he has people like his mother and Pope who understand what he is going through and do whatever they can to help him through the bad days.

Theodore Montgomery was born in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania on 31st July on a bright, summer morning. He was the only child of Cassie and Richard Montgomery, but he was their pride and joy. A bright and jolly kid, he rarely cried and caused any ruckus—except during meal times, the picky eater within him was there from a young age. Life was great for the Montgomery’s for the first few years of Theo’s life, fine and dandy until his dad got shipped off again for duty. It was a hard concept for him to grasp onto as a child but one he got used too—dad being away for months and then coming home for a few more before he was shipped away again. It was a routine young Theo had grasped onto.

What he didn’t really understand was when his mother opened the door and the man on the other side wasn’t his father, they wore the same clothes but this was not his dad. Admittedly, explaining the situation to Theo was much harder than actually receiving the news. It was hard for Theo to realise that his father wasn’t coming back. It was harder when he heard all the other kids talk about their dads on father’s day and such.

It was hard but he had his mother to help him through it, and he helped her.

This was also around the time where Theo’s struggles with anxiety and panic attacks were prominent. His mother put him in therapy quite early on and it was definitely something he appreciated in the long-term, even if he didn’t at the time.

Overall, his experience of school was a rocky one. He enjoyed elementary and middle school—he was a bright boy and never had issues with the academic side of things. It was near the end of middle school and his transition into high school where problems began to arise. Hey, teenagers can be really fucking mean and these ones were no different. There was a variety of things he was picked on for, and though he tried to not let it get to him, it was the fake friends that really bothered him. These ‘friends’ that were just pretending to mock him and whatnot, set him up with a guy just to humiliate him and so on. It was really fucking mean. He was happy to escape.

Depending on the timeline of the works Theo is in, his story goes generally in two directions. For his senior year, he transfers to Kildare County High School where he eventually meets Pope and the rest of the gang. Or more commonly, he doesn’t meet Pope until college where they both attend Boston University, with Theo studying Art History and Pope doing a Biomedical Forensic Science degree before medical school. Theo’s first encounter was seeing Pope on the other side of the communal courtyard where he was giving a fellow student some serious side glare and from that moment Theo just knew this boy was the one for him.

And the rest is in the fics!

#character inspection #theodore montgomery #outer banks fanfiction

[velvet-verve]

fic writer interview

I was tagged by the illustrious and wonderfully talented @electricshoebox like...days ago and then promptly forgot. But I wanna do it! So here goes.

Name: Straight to the difficult questions, huh? Fine...Lillian.

Where you post: Pretty much exclusively my AO3

Most Popular One-shot: Don’t have a one-shot yet, because I am a wee fanfic baby. Might work on fixing that soon.

Most Popular Multichap: Dogfight! First fic I ever wrote. Deacon/F!Sole Rosie Castevet who is both a badass and a crybaby, miraculously at the same time. I personally think it’s a bit...rough. Especially at the beginning, but hey! I’m learning! I’ve learnt! I...you get the idea.

Favorite story you’ve written so far: It’s actually turning out to be Fugue State, my Maccready/F!Sole fic. Like I said, I’ve improved a lot and I started this one off solid. I love Midge, and I love her and Maccready’s dynamic, and because of their personalities, I get to hold a loooot of stuff back. Kid back in the Capital Wasteland, who? Tragic backstory involving the death of a beloved brother, what? More trauma between the both of them than you can shake a stick at but they both refuse to share, where? In my other fic, Dogfight, Rosie kinda just...tells people stuff. She doesn’t see the point in hiding it. Whereas Deacon’s the one who shares small pieces at a time, (after spilling his guts about his dead wife.) Now I’ve got two stubborn idiots who hate showing weakness. Fuck yeah. Those idiots are gonna take forever to kiss.

Fic you were nervous to post: Fucking both of them.

How do you choose your titles: Funnily enough, both of the titles of both of my fics relate to the sole survivor’s career prewar. Rosie is a fighter pilot, hence the name Dogfight. Midge is a pianist. Fugue State is both a reference to a literal fugue, (a type of musical composition,) and a psychological fugue state. Losing your identity and sense of individuality and having to work to get it back. Who are you without the spouse you lost, you know? Both Midge and Maccready have to figure that out through the course of the fic, and...you know...some of us take longer than others. 

Do you outline: Pfft. No. And I think it’s very obvious. Every time I try to outline anything I just end up...writing it. I have a structure in mind and I know where I want to go and (mostly) how I want to get there, but no, I don’t outline. I usually let the characters guide me through the story and...voila. I let those words flooow baby! 

Complete: none. :) you’re welcome.

In progress: ALL. BOTH. OFTEN WRITING FOR BOTH FICS AT THE SAME TIME BECAUSE I’M A BIG DUMMY. Actually, I have been focusing more of my energy into Fugue State lately, but I’m still a big ol dummy head. Don’t be fooled.

Coming soon/not yet started: So, uh...I may have written little snippets from Mac’s eventual trip to DC in Fugue State...including interacting with that universe’s lone wanderer...and it made me totally want to write the fic. It did. So, yes. I have a tentative idea and foundation for a fallout 3 lone wanderer fic. Oh, you wanna know the pairing? Well too bad, so sad, buckaroo. My lips are sealed.

Okay it’s Female Lone Wanderer/Butch Deloria but you didn’t hear it from me.

Prompts?: Never done them. Not opposed. Not sure!

Upcoming work you’re most excited about: Oh, you’re trying to get me to talk about that lone wanderer fic, huh? Well, move on, buster! I’m not even sure I’m gonna do it. Yes I am. It’s not like I even have a solid basis for who my lone wanderer even is. Yes I totally do her name is Jane and she has a very cool baseball bat and I love her.

Tagging anyone who wants to do it! I’ll be the fall guy, don’t worry. Just say I tagged you and do your lil interview you cutie patootie, you. 😘

#interview #fic writer #fic writers unite #fic writer interview #tag game

[deathvalleyqueen]

Trivia Tuesday

From this post.

Creators: give a “behind the scenes” look at one of your works. This could be things that got removed or changed, the origins of ideas/details, whatever you like!

Fans: share bits of trivia from canon and challenge others to create something based on that trivia - fic, art, or something else!

I was tagged by @kunstpause​ to do this and buckle up... cuz we are getting... like metaish... I think with this... or symbolic... IDK we are talking over arching themes! 

I am putting this under a cut because it’s long... I ramble... but FIRST... tags... 

cuz I think I know some people who would love a reason to lore dump, no obligations as always and I know I waited soooo late but what does things like days of the week matter?

Tags: @lobanhart​ @pd3​ @nightwingshero​ @risenlucifer​ @hopecountyink​ @shallow-gravy​ @tomexraider​ @faithchel​ @clutch-wept​ and anyone else who wants to play along.

The Importance (and hindrance) of Siblings 

So one big thing you will see through out the whole story that I am telling over MJ’s story before the Collapse and Grace’s story after during New Dawn, that the story really centers around the relationships of three sets of siblings and those who are in their lives because of that. I really love Charmed... not gonna lie... so this may be a little heavy on the echos of the Power of Three in places... don’t judge me -.-. 

The Seeds

These three guys are really the glue that holds the plot together really, I mean... hell they are the only Canon characters after all. I was always really fascinated by their particular power dynamics, with Joseph the middle child (and really with the least of offer in way of skills or assets) being the one who really holds control of the other two and the effects that has on their lives. Adding in MJ and the past and history there does add interesting layers but the crooks of it remains the same. Joseph is the one that still hold all the cards for a lot of years. It takes a lot for the other two (and Faith) to break away in the end. Their troubles as a family sets the tone for the whole piece really and I wanted to really build a relationship between Jacob and John (as I feel Jacob would almost relate to John more than Joseph idk... the trauma perhaps?) because I wanted that but never got it *pouts*

The MacKennas 

Now, while all the MacKennas play important roles in the story, the important ones in the long run (besides Colin...he is barely a MacKenna for his betrayals) are Mac, Sean and obviously Mary Jane. They are actually far closer than the Seeds, and this is because they did in fact spend their whole childhood and much of their adulthood with their lives intertwined. Unlike The Seeds, MJ hold all the cards when it comes to power in this sibling group. This comes from one big reason, MJ asserts her dominance over her brothers. While they could all physical take her out, Mary Jane is smarter, faster and holds more power with in the Project than any of them because of the sway she has over John. These three are particularly close because of MJ being tormented by Colin as a child and Mac and Sean were the closest in age to him, so they often protected her. That is role they both still hold. Their relationship is kinda meant to foil the Seeds a bit... 

The Seeds 2.0

Let us take a moment to appreciate the fact that John... has three girls... (and Archer but he is still a wee child) there is some level of karmic justice for John with this... I really feel it lol. 

But Lilith “Lily”, Rosalie “Rose” and Grace Lynn... ah... the babies, the ones who redeem the Seed family... and take out old Hipster Jesus and want to try and help Ethan see the truth. These three girls... and they are really babies come ND. Lily is 24, Rose is 20 and Grace is only just 18, hold their own and take charge in serious ways. Grace grows up away from Lily and Rose so a lot of what is planned at this point is the girls trying to learn about each other and how their strengths really do play off each other and if they worked together they would actually be able to achieve their goals and then some. But they are stubborn girls, very stubborn and have tempers on them something fierce. 

also originally there was only going to be Lily and Grace...and one point in time I had twins planned as well that were going to be named Asher and Archer, but I ended just keeping Archer... cuz poor MJ don’t need more kids. 

These three... more than the others are where I take a lot inspiration from charmed... particularly like early seasons 1-3 charmed..

The New Dawn Story is End Game

In the the way I have things planned, is I want to boil the story down to a story about this family... that has a lot of really wild things happen to them (a lot of it their own doing) and actually see someone from that line try to fix it and bring things full circle. I was so disappointed with the end for the story of New Dawn. It felt hollow and like it gave me no real closure. So that’s really why I ended building on my original plans which was only to really write some kind of semi plotted, not really plotted write this by the seat of my pants thing... into well... this is whole world now with OCS abound and my friend @cornfedcryptid​ ‘s oc Ellie plays a huge part in the world...and we are honestly having a blast plotting this and working on it. 

I mean, for me, coming from someone who has been writing fantasy for some time coming back into more of a real world type story... it’s very freeing creatively (which you would think it would be the other way around) 

#tag games with friends #mary jane seed #sean mackenna #michael 'mac' mackenna #the gospel of mary jane #lore dump

[barisifictionarchive]

Author: Juniperhoot

Preferred Name: Jenny

Have any events in your personal life ever influenced the things that you've written? Absolutely. STRAP IN.

Sometimes I rework something that happened to me, or to someone I know, and use it as a template for filling in personal details. See also: Carisi’s tale of molten aluminum burning holes in his ma’s kitchen flooring. That’s something that actually happened to me (well, it happened to my second husband, who got distracted while playing CounterStrike and let the pan boil dry). In one of my Stony stories, Steve tells Tony about a comforting gesture he learned from his mother - three squeezes of the hand, to silently say “I love you.” That’s something I learned from my Mema.

Beyond those bits of color, there are things that have made their way into my writing that come directly from my experiences. My interest in Sonny as a queer Catholic who once considered the religious life is something deeply personal to me, because that was my life, too. Even though I’m an atheist now, the church still holds some fascination for me, and I’m keenly interested in people who find a way to walk that line, and retain some belief while also retaining their autonomy and sense of self. The way I write Sonny is, in many ways, the way I think I would be, if I still believed. Okay, if I still believed AND were also a tall, noodly, bisexual man.

The way I write Rafael’s overthinking interior life is partly me, partly the things I’ve observed in people I’ve loved. The carefully chosen words, the moments of retreating from revealing too much of himself, the guardedness and tendency toward self-preservation that comes from growing up in an abusive home… all very relatable and possibly part of why I mostly write from his perspective, even though I generally consider myself more like Sonny. The shadows in Rafael’s heart are in my heart, too. My empathy is built on those shadows.

I wrote a Stony breakup fic years ago during a difficult time in my life. I’d reached a point where I had to remove some people from my life, because my priorities and theirs were so radically divergent. It felt like a big breakup. It reopened some feelings from my second divorce, and compounded what I was going through with another more recent breakup. Somehow, I used the pain and disillusionment of all that to write about two dudes in love, who found themselves in a crisis of trust and faith in one another. Of course, I also wrote them coming back together, and the work it takes to do that, because in my heart, I want to see good people work things out, if possible. And at least in my story, and in the way I view both of those characters, they ARE good people. In real life, some people really do need to be cut loose, when their values are wholly incompatible with your own. Some relationships can’t be mended. Some friendships turn out to be mostly one-sided. But hey, if they can be mined for material, they were worth it, right?

I’m in a less volatile emotional space these days, so my fics tend to reflect that. I’m the queen of domesticity and cute banter, and love that I’m getting to explore the quieter side of drama. I know I’ve said this before, but it’s worth saying again. It’s not all slamming doors and WE’RE THROUGH!, you know? There’s a marvelous sense of drama in the ways we try to negotiate cohabitation, or meeting the families of our romantic partners. There’s drama in supporting one another’s goals and ideals. At least, I think there is? And I hope my stories achieve that.

Do you have a favorite movie? I have a few, and they’re very different movies, because they reflect different aspects of my heart.

Pee-wee’s Big Adventure (1985) is one of the most ridiculous things I have ever seen, and it still makes me laugh, 35 years after its release. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve seen it. The stupid characters, the kitschy aesthetic, the score… it’s so very silly. I love it.

Singin’ in the Rain (1952) is, in my opinion, the most perfect Hollywood movie musical of all time. Everything about it works. The entire cast is outrageously talented, and attractive, and the songs are all memorable. The title song and dance routine never fails to elicit chills and a thrill of giddy joy in my heart. When Gene Kelly does that spin in the street, with the umbrella held out before him like a dance partner? Aaaaaiiiieeee. This is the movie that makes me wish I could dance.

A Room With A View (1985) is the sort of quiet, clever, understated romantic (in every sense of the word) movie I turn to again and again. It’s a gorgeous adaptation of a really smart, surprising book that left a mark on me when I first encountered it in high school. The score is lush and inviting, the cast is beautiful (and oh, those costumes!), the script is just fucking delicious, and of course, the scenery, from Florence to Kent, is exquisite. Plus, we get interplay between sincere humanism (the Emersons), religious belief (the Reverends Beebe and Eager), and the religious-by-default stances of so many of the other characters, whose participation in the religious life of the community seems to be more for societal expectations than anything else. It’s just beautiful, and one of the only movies I urge everyone to sit through to the very end, not because there’s a post-credits scene, but because the closing track that plays over the credits is fantastic.  

Who is your favorite author? E.M. Forster, partly because of what I said above about A Room With A View. The novel is short, but crammed with interesting ideas and engaging dialogue. He has a unique voice that spoke to me as a teenager, and my appreciation for his writing has only increased over the many years since. Read Howards End. Read Maurice. Read Where Angels Fear to Tread. Read A Passage to India. But start with A Room With A View.

I know a lot of people would say Howards End is his masterpiece, and they’re probably right about that, but I’m telling you, the book that has meant the most to me over the years is A Room With A View. I’ve kept a copy of it with me since I first read it in 1985, and it’s traveled with me from Minnesota to Seattle and back again. Lucy Honeychurch’s ongoing muddle is something I’ve lived, and survived, and it means more to me every time I read the book. More than anything, it’s a book about authenticity vs hypocrisy, and that just fucking speaks to me, you know?

How did you start getting involved in fanfiction? Several years ago, I read a Sherlock fic called “The Road Less Traveled.” It was during the long, painful, post-Reichenbach Fall hiatus between series 2 and 3, and I found myself looking for something to read that would fill the gap. I’d never had much interest in fanfic before, but this thing did something to me.

I didn’t start writing fanfic until I saw an episode of Supernatural that I found upsetting. (Don’t get me started…) I started writing a little thing to try to fix the stupidity. I wrote a couple of things, but the show did everything in its power to kill my interest in it, so I drifted away. (That said, I am very proud of my short Destiel Christmas fic, which I still think is very cute and makes me wish things had played out differently.)

From there, I started writing Stony (Steve/Tony, mostly based on the MCU, but with some elements of various Marvel comics I’ve read over the years). I wrote several things in that fandom, and most of it was extremely stupid, but there are bits and pieces that I’m still rather fond of. I still want to finish my long fic that’s been gathering dust for a couple of years now. Oops.

How did you get involved with Barisi? Barisi is probably the first fandom that I’ve written for that really seemed to embrace me and encourage me to keep doing this. A friend of mine has been watching SVU forever, and would reference things occasionally on chat while she was watching it. (See also: SEX PARTY MEASLES BABY, an intriguing statement that I didn’t actually understand for YEARS.) I started watching SVU off and on, a few episodes here or there, sometime in 2018. I started at the beginning, and worked my way through the whole thing. When I started it, I was mostly in it for Olivia Benson. But I knew Raúl Esparza had been on the show at some point, and at the time, I was in the “oh, I think I remember seeing him in something, he’s good” camp.

It wasn’t until I got to season 14 that I lost my mind over the show. Rafael Barba is one of the greatest characters ever written for tv, and I’m so thrilled he came along and blew my frickin’ mind. My appreciation for Raúl Esparza went through the roof, and it made me go look for him in other things, which fed into my spiraling appreciation.

Fast forward to season 16. Sonny Carisi walks in, and is… a beautiful, mustachioed mess. I love him from the moment I see him, and I say, “Oh shit, this is the love of Rafael Barba’s life, isn’t it?” This is even before they’ve shared a scene. This is before they’ve blatantly checked each other out. This is just me recognizing the potential, and craving it. Then he shaves that stache and starts dressing better, and he’s shadowing Barba and they’re working cases together and Barba’s being KIND TO HIM? COME ON.

Naturally, I started thinking about writing them. And it wasn’t coming from a place of “I need to fix this episode” or “I need to work out a recent trauma” driving me. It was just “ugh, they have an amazing dynamic and I want to explore it and I want to see what their home life would look like.” That’s how I ended up writing Carisi’s Goddamn Legs. Suddenly I was being bombarded with thoughtful comments from readers. In one such comment, Maxi (mforpaul) asked me where I could be reached on other platforms, and messaged me privately about the story, and made a big deal out of tracking me down on Twitter, introducing me to the rest of the fandom. And that fandom turned out to be filled with really amazing people, who think about big issues like justice and queerness and representation. Those same people are also wonderfully silly and down to earth. The power of this fandom!

What inspires you to write? Lots of things. Life, because it is weird and messy and wonderful. My closest friend, who is a springboard for a lot of my nonsense, is always eager for me to write something new. My love of a ridiculous turn of phrase. The quest for dialogue that sounds in-character and natural. Sometimes, it’s just the seed of an idea, a thought that won’t leave me alone, like, “I bet a short king would be obsessed with those long, noodly legs.” Because I, a short queen, am similarly obsessed.

Sometimes, when the writing fever is upon me, it’s hard to sleep, hard to think of anything other than the story I’m working on. I just want to get it all out and done. If I’m writing something that I really enjoy, or feel very closely connected to, I physically tremble as I write. When that happens, I know I’m on the right track, and I don’t want to stop writing. I just want to inhabit that space, and wallow in that feeling.

What is your favorite fic that you have written?  Carisi's Goddamn Legs is really something. The pining, the uncertainty, the slowly dawning realization, but most of all, that scene at Lorenzo’s, where it all comes to a head and the way it creeps to the edge of intimacy and then is interrupted by Lorenzo and a retreat to the casual, only to be sent right back to the edge… I’ve re-read the damn thing several times since I wrote it, and that scene gets to me every time. I really like it a lot. I like the dynamic between them so very much, and the way the truth tumbles out of Carisi literally makes me shake.

What is your favorite quote from a fic of yours? Ooh, yikes, this is hard. I have a couple of lines I really like. One is short, one is longer. Just like Barisi.

One of them (from Carisi's Goddamn Legs ) was something I gave to Olivia, as she tries to counsel Rafael on his worries that his emotional armor isn’t protecting him the way it used to. 

“Wear and tear, I guess. Armor was never meant to be worn all the time.”

It’s a line that means something to me, personally, because I spent a substantial chunk of my life in armor, hiding who I was and trying to settle for “the best you can expect” rather than my actual heart’s desire. When I dismantled that wall, things got chaotic for a while, but I also realized I was capable of emotional depths and soaring heights I didn’t think possible for me. It’s something that the Jenny of today wants to whisper (or shout) at the Jenny of 25-30 years ago, and it’s that part of me that relates to Rafael’s journey from a lifetime of SHIELDS UP! to embracing vulnerability and intimacy. (I actually really like that whole scene between them, because I love their friendship and think it’s beautiful, and crave more of that dynamic. Platonic intimacy is gorgeous, and woefully underappreciated in most entertainment. I could go on for hours about that, but I won’t. Not right now, anyway.)

And from Staten Island Serenade, this passage of Rafael gazing at a sleeping Sonny really gets to me.

“As hard as it was some days, Rafael knew without question he wanted to be right here with him, because Sonny was worth the effort. He was a bewildering mess of contradictions and weirdness, too smart for his own good but capable of saying the most ridiculous shit Rafael had ever heard. Somehow everything about him was beautiful, and inspired something in Rafael that felt pure, and almost holy, or would be if he believed in holiness. Like Cymon of old, transformed in every way by the exquisite sight of sleeping Iphigenia, Rafael found himself similarly transformed; ennobled by the nearness of Sonny Carisi, someone so decent, so kind, so truly beautiful inside and out that it would have been a sacrilege not to strive to be a better man.”

What is your personal favorite fanfic? 

Again with the hard questions. I don’t even know where to begin. I honestly can’t point to ONE and say, “This is it! THE FAVE.” I’m so sorry I’m not able to narrow down my faves on anything. I’m terrible at this.

There are several Sherlock fics that I’ve read and re-read over the years, which I think really nailed their voices and their characters, and gave me things to think about. The Road Less Traveled will always be a favorite of mine, because it was the first, and because it is beautiful.

Pass Here And Go On by abogadobarba hits all the right notes for me. It rocketed to the top of my list the moment I read it. I’ve read it about ten times so far. I am ridiculous.

So Far in a Few Blocks by PhillyStrega is one of the only AUs I’ve ever read and loved. I’m not really an AU person, but shut UP, I love this story.

You Made Them Feel Like They Had the Devil Inside Them by cypress_tree really got to me. It’s about one of those issues that hits very close to home, and I think it’s a beautifully-written story about something that matters.

Anything else you would like to add?

I just want to say how much I love this fandom. I love my fellow inhabitants of Barisi Nation. I love that I get to obsess over things like the intersections of faith and queerness and humanism and sex and domesticity and justice and goodness. Even if nobody else wanted to read my stories, I think I’d still be over here, writing like mad, because I love these characters and it’s a genuine joy for me to spend time in their heads. But gosh, it’s gratifying to know the hours I spend on this silliness actually pay off for other people, too. I love hearing from people who’ve read my stories and found something meaningful in them, or giggled at something ridiculous Sonny said, or thought a sex scene was… well, anyway. You know.

I’m so grateful to get to do this. And I appreciate the hell out of all you lovely humans. You make me happy.

#barisi #Author of the month #Author recommendation #Juniperhoot

[satan-chillin]

The Path to Redemption is a Winding One

Summary: Rowena dies at the hands of Sam Winchester in all accordance with their entwined destiny. Let it be said that her afterlife is neither Heaven nor Hell, but rather back in the year 2004 where the first Apocalypse is on the works, and with all her previous memories intact.

Warnings: Trigger warning for graphic description of torture. 

Notes: 

It’s a time-travel fix-it fic, dearies.

It’s a 20k words fic, so yes, it’s a long ass read.

The fic is also written long before the 15x03 “The Rupture” episode so don’t expect it to be 100% canon-compliant. 

Also, this is a Gabriel/Rowena fanfic with mentions of SamWitch/Samwena that’s why it’s posted under the SamWena/SamWitch tag. It ain’t a Sabriwena, nor is it a triangle. Sorry, chiefs, but I do hope you enjoy this for the Rowena content alone. :)  

Don’t worry, I’m planning to write a SamWena/SamWitch time-travel fix-it too. 

Also available in Ao3 & FF.net 

Rowena was no stranger to death.

She had had her encounters throughout the centuries, but there were only three deaths she deemed significant. This was the third; an expected one, in fact, since two years ago when she was told who would have done her for good. It hardly came as a surprise that it would be Sam because a witch dying by the hands of either Winchester wasn’t exactly news. Rowena took comfort knowing who would it be, and she supposed there could be worse candidates (i.e., Lucifer in whatever vessel). A girl couldn’t really choose who would kill her, but, morbidly it might sound, she lucked out that it would be by Sam Winchester’s hands.

What she wasn’t expecting, however, was the bond that formed between the two of them, how their shared trauma paved a way for the tentative understanding that in turn formed an occasional alliance. The trust came in last, brought by desperation and necessity that had her make decisions she would hardly consider a year ago. Rowena hated it, at first, that this huge lumbering man could make her uncharacteristic. She blamed it at her prolonged exposure to the brothers that she likened to letting a wound fester bare to infection until she was forced to live with it, to live with the knowledge that she was inching closer to the Winchesters’ inner circle.

Rowena had kept her distance when she came to understand how Fergus had become lapdog to the brothers. Rowena never felt the need to justify her actions before, and yet there was something satisfying to be in the side of good—at least, the Winchester brand of ‘good’ that was primarily concerned with the safety of many. For all her claims that the brothers owed her, Rowena liked the feeling of giving her natural talents as an aid. It had felt like an accomplishment.

She remembered Sam’s knowing look, and he understood.

Rowena pretended to be reluctant, but she was always there. She was there when there was an alternate universe with people that needed saving; she was there when Dean was ridden by an archangel equally as terrible as Lucifer; she was there when Jack was close to dying; she was there when Jack lost his soul; she was there when God left the world to ruin. Rowena was there until the end that brought pretty much everyone together.

And against her better judgment allowed herself to grow close to the Winchesters Bunch who was bad news.  

Rowena observed how the dynamic of the Winchester brothers worked with their resident angel and noted that each shared varying degrees of relationship with each other. She learned that Castiel, while he treated himself as the guardian of the brothers, was more prone to exchange his life for Dean than Sam. She hadn’t been privy to the exact nature of the connection between the older Winchester and the angel, though she had noticed the subtle—blatant, in her opinion—signs that hinted stronger affections that surpassed that of mere friendship. What was ridiculous that it went both ways that had the person in the nearest vicinity of the two, usually the younger Winchester, painfully overwhelmed at all the unrepentant eyesex.

While the exchange had been around for an uncomfortably long time, it had an unforeseen consequence of Sam drawing nearer to the first person also left out of the Dean-Castiel loop: her.

Unlike his brother, Sam found it mandatory to connect with the people in their side, and often Rowena was his target, thinking that she might not have fitted in a group largely composed of hunters who would have hunted her kind if not for the present end of times then. Rowena didn’t indulge him with the knowledge that he assumed right, instead reveled on the unspoken sort of protection that came with being a trusted and proven ally of the Winchesters for some years, reluctant or otherwise.     

The thing was, Rowena wasn’t expecting the small talks and sharing of secrets during sleepless nights, where there was also a point in time that talking about Lucifer included making fun of him. Sam was a naturally curious lad who asked several things about the 17th century on some evenings, and there were questions about how Rowena maneuvered through the witch trials, the subject which usually led to memorable anecdotes and informal lectures on little tricks that someone of Sam’s skill could manage when in a tight spot.

During the small spaces of free time when they weren’t both poring over thick volumes, Sam had the irrational habit to take her words personally, always under the notion that Rowena was telling him her deepest secrets and feelings; they weren’t, or at least, she thought they were not. Sam must have noticed the sincere fondness in her expression when recounting about Fergus in his wee age, when she spoke of her eagerness to learn and prove herself to be the strongest witch in her youth, when she told him what made her immortality worth it, and when she shared about the places in the world she would like to see again after all this, if she survived this.

Rowena remembered how Sam’s large hand gently squeezed her small ones and promised her that she would, that they would. Together.       

And the fool that she was for a strong and honest man who liked making promises, Rowena believed. She relished in the fact that Sam told her numerous experiences in and out of hunting, of his encounters with various women who usually met unfortunate ends as if talking to Sam alone sealed their fates. She heard about a special woman named Jessica that Sam still held dearly in his heart and whose passing was dulled with time and the deaths of the demons responsible for her death. Rowena knew of this; after all, she had read Chuck’s books and had muddled through the terrible writing to get information before, but hearing the words came from Sam himself was quite different, especially when hearing bits and pieces that weren’t included in those Chuck-forsaken books.  

She caught herself wondering one night if Chuck would write her as a rather disposable character whose intelligence and a strong sense of self-preservation she used to have pride in decayed overtime after allowing herself to grow close to the person she should have avoided in the first place. Mayhap she was finally the vapid heroine that starred in cheesy novels.

Though if Rowena was to be a character in a book, she would like to think it was in a work of tragedy of epic proportions, especially when the last passage of her story was about her and a killing blow delivered by none other than Sam Winchester.

Personally, Rowena approved of the choice: a knife in the heart was the most intimate manner of death by a man that she could think of, and trust Samuel Winchester to make the affair poignant and, pun intended, very close to the heart.

What ruined it was Sam’s profuse whispers of apologies, cradling her close and his face hovering over her as he spilled ungodly manly tears. The old her would have found such display irksome, that she wasn’t someone worth mourning over, but she was that woman no longer, was she? Enough that something affectionate in her regretted that Sam Winchester ended up with another blood on his hands, that she would be leaving him like this, emotionally vulnerable and raw. Belatedly, Rowena thought that maybe she should have kept up the evil, bitter, and petty skank image, just so Sam wouldn’t blame his lonesome self for finishing who he now considered a friend that he promised he would bend his fate for.

Rowena wasn’t stranger to death, but this wasn’t as simple as the previous two, was it?  It wasn’t about the finality of it at all but rather on the person who was on the other side of it.

Touching his cheek was a chore after the immense bleeding, but Rowena hated that Sam would cry over this, over her, a less significant character compared to Chuck’s protagonists. For all they knew, Chuck could be writing the scene with the need to finish a character that overstayed its welcome; or probably for additional angst; or perhaps he didn’t know what to do with Rowena’s role in the story; it could be out of keeping tradition of killing off the female who connected with Sam Winchester; it could have been plain boredom while Chuck watched his story unfold.

If Rowena was truly subjected to Chuck’s will, then it wouldn’t be incongruous of a dramatic woman that she was if she told Sam that it was alright and had to be done, that she was thankful that it was him who would put her at peace.

Rowena’s life ended with a final kiss to one of the big bloody heroes of the story.  

Rowena sat up, gasping, with the sharp pain of being stabbed in the chest ebbing away.

She rubbed on her skin, and there was nary a trace of the wound there, not even a scar. Faintly, she recalled that she must be in what passed as limbo temporarily while the whole Chuck ordeal resolved itself to bring back the order in Heaven, Hell, and Purgatory. Frankly, she was amused that she wasn’t delivered straight to the pits of Hell just yet.

In a world with varying sets of beliefs and only one true creator, Rowena guessed this was what encompassed as a limbo: a familiar place to the person in it. It was pretty underwhelming for an afterlife; it wasn’t even a particular memory she held fondly.

Rowena sighed. She would have to get used to having a long stay at this three-star hotel in Scotland.

Or was she?

There was something that nagged inside her mind aside from the familiarity of her surroundings. She had been here before, yes, but more than that, it felt lived in.

Tentatively, Rowena pulled the drapes aside and saw the city’s roads with a couple of vehicles and a few people out in the early morning Scotland weather. Alright, so it was quite detailed for nitpicking.

She backed away from the window and believed that she was thinking too much about this when she should be having her peace for Chuck’s sake. She would think that this included plenty of beauty sleep she had neglected.

There was ringing coming from the nightstand. Rowena raised an eyebrow at the flipped phone and picked it up to answer.

A harsh exhale could be heard before a tirade passed through the speakers.

Rowena pulled the phone away with a grimace, muffling the irritating sound. Amidst her growing annoyance and confusion, the nagging returned in a manner that she recognized.

Rowena knew she’d been here before; she’d been here in this exact moment in time years ago that seemed distant.

And it came back to her in increments: the angry woman on the phone was someone who accused her of fraudulence, a person who had insulted her capabilities after Rowena purposefully gave her a love potion that failed to work. Rowena remembered the handsome man intended to receive the potion and how she greatly desired the man for herself. The woman she conned was wrong—Rowena’s creation did work, only that it served its purpose to its creator instead.

Blearily, Rowena cut the call and focused on the displayed date.

2004.

Bullocks.

By some twist of fate, she traveled back in time.

Trust her to interpret it as a wrench thrown in the works than a second chance that shouldn’t be possible for a person like her.

It shouldn’t be possible for anyone, certainly not after the creator of the world decided to leave it all to shambles and discarded his creation like his old used toys that a child overgrew. Chuck wouldn’t be this generous to bring someone back in the past with the memories of the future intact.

Angels could, but as far as Rowena knew, Castiel was the only angel left on their side, not to mention fallen and with hardly any grace left. He wasn’t even around when she died.

And she did die. That wasn’t some dream or a scrying session, of that she was sure. She couldn’t have imagined Samuel’s weeping over her body. She couldn’t…

Oh, god. Samuel.  

He was young around this time, not that seasoned hunter that she got to know better. He was practically a child compared to her. He was free of the burden of Lucifer. And if her calculation was correct, he wasn’t even back on hunting just yet, enjoying his respite from that life and thinking he completely escaped it for the mundane and normal pursuits.

Her mind reeled at the possibilities in her hands, the changes she could make not only for herself but for those that she cared for. She didn’t know whether to take the situation as a gift or a curse to relive all her terrible choices once more.

But by Morgana, this was something she wasn’t aware she needed until now.

Innocent Oskar was alive, and with all her power she would keep him away from her. What happened to that kind boy was all on her and no one else’s.

Her son was alive in Hell, not yet the King of the Damned, but a King nonetheless. Fergus could bloody well be a low-level salesman of Hell and she wouldn’t care. She could see him again, the person she once thought a remembrance of her greatest mistake. She could do it right this time.

Rowena crumpled on the floor in a torrent of sentiments, a mess in every sense of the word.

She put aside the planning for the meantime. For now, she allowed herself a moment to wallow in a curious mix of grief and elation.

Rowena was onboard the first flight to States by evening.

Fortunately, the travel time gave her some quiet time to carefully plan the moves she intended to make once she landed.  She had been sorely tempted to prepare a summoning ritual for Fergus the minute she started to keep it all together; the ritual was, after all, a walk in the park for a witch of her caliber. But a more rational introspective reminded her that Fergus around this time wasn’t the same Fergus she reconnected with after three centuries.

There was more Crowley in Fergus now, wired closely to a callous demon than a humanized one. There was no love lost between them that would allow a semblance of affection from Crowley.

If she had attempted to summon Fergus, he would kill her quickly, at best.

It was difficult to sleep by the time she was settled in, her mind brimming with ideas on how to best make use of the situation. Was she alone in this venture? If not, then she has to find them soon. Working alone was ideal in most cases but not on this. Hopefully, if she did manage to find someone, it was a person previously on the Winchesters’ side, else it would pose as a huge hurdle she would have to deal with as well.

Rowena gave up on rest, getting a pen and paper instead to write down a temporary outline that followed a chronological flow. She disliked having to rely solely on her memory of Chuck’s books in regards to the major events that happened since the year 2005 onwards, but then again, having a single Supernatural book at hand would make things a bit easier, and she wasn’t under the illusion it would be so.

There was always the option to approach the Winchesters in person and explain the circumstances. Rowena scratched the idea away. Knowing them and their former black and white moral compass most especially to witches, it was the riskiest move. Not to mention, the notorious John Winchester who she wasn’t keen on meeting.

If she was truly well and alone, then she would make do.

The Crossroads Demon that greeted her was a woman with full lips curled into a sly smirk, appraising Rowena and humming in appreciation at what she saw.

“A witch,” the demon purred. “To what do I owe the pleasure of meeting such a pretty little thing?”

“I’m sure you already know, dearie,” Rowena replied with a saccharine smile.

“Perhaps,” the demon agreed, circling Rowena and trailing a finger across her shoulders. Rowena shivered. “But witches don’t usually come first to our branch. They prefer the direct approach than through a mediator, which, as they say, is faster, but I’d say they tend to forget the risk.” She sighed wistfully, twirling a lock of Rowena’s red curls. “Nonetheless, I’m here to provide you the best service. You may borrow from a demon and remain bound to my contract that guarantees security against an untimely death before ten years. What do you say, darling?”

Rowena has no time for petty sales talk, though she couldn’t help but mock. “I’m sure you’re not blind, dear girl, and you can see that borrowing a meager amount of power from a demon is the least of my needs.”

The demon’s smile faltered slightly and then twitched back to amusement. “Interesting. A strong, immortal witch. Old too,” she drawled. “Pray tell what you desire, madam. Is it eternal youth?” She cupped Rowena’s face, sharp nails grazing her cheeks. “Perhaps not. Neat work on the beauty spell.”

Rowena didn’t bother to hide rolling her eyes. Eternal youth for a ten-year contract? Please.

“Oh.” The demon’s look turned predatory as if it found what it was looking for while she searched Rowena’s face. “A man. Had the potions not worked?” She grinned knowingly. “No matter. He’ll be worshipping the ground you walk on, and he shall pour all his unconditional love for you.” Her eyes trailed lower with unadulterated desire. “As early as tonight he’ll make love to you like he hadn’t known passion, yearn only for you and no one else. He’ll know no greater beauty and derive pleasure only for you and from you.”

“Aye. It is a man,” Rowena said, swallowing thickly. She hated that she had been neglecting her needs. No matter; two could play this game. “And you might have known him by the name of Crowley.”

The demon tensed, pulling away in surprise at hearing the name directly coming from a human.

“Your boss, dearie. The King of the Crossroads.”

“I see that you know him,” the demon said once she recovered. “Left you used and empty?” She snorted derisively. “I must say, I didn’t know he got involved with witches. The others don’t know it, but I’ve noticed his strong dislike for your kind. You must be special.”

“Very,” Rowena said dryly.

“Unfortunately, I can’t give you the boss. Protocol and all that. I admire your gall, though.”

“Och. Nothing drastic like that. I simply want to give him something.” Rowena pulled out an ornate envelope.

“A love letter?” The demon kept her hand from plucking the letter from Rowena’s hands. She noted how guarded the demon became. “Charming. And you want me as your glorified mail courier? As unexciting this is, this is a first in my career.”

“Far from a love letter, but a letter written in love.” Rowena handed her the envelope. “Now don’t go be stupid to take a peek. It’s enchanted to be opened only by the person intended for,” she advised playfully.

Rowena could see how it irked the demon, though she relented, and with a snap, the letter was gone. “Done. Delivered to the boss’s pile.”

Well, who would have thought it would be this quick? Rowena grinned in satisfaction. “Now come here and let me pay you for the job well done, dearie.”

The demon was enthusiastic to get into Rowena’s space, latching a firm hand on her hip. Rowena ran her palms on the demon’s waist and slowly crept from her breasts to shoulders, lips making feathery touches from the jaw to an earlobe.

“Thank you. You have no idea how much I’ve been missing my son,” Rowena whispered breathlessly, slipping an inconspicuous ball of cloth before abruptly pulling away.

The demon let out an inhuman screech, violently coughing out black ooze as she doubled over. “You!” It seethed, wailing in pain. “What is—How did you—”

“Consider it a treat, darling.” Rowena flipped her hair. “Give a kiss to my son for me, will you?” She watched as the demon writhed in utter suffering on the ground for several seconds, cursing Rowena and her entire bloodline, before slumping lifelessly. “Or not.”

Rowena blinked, and with a pang of pity for the poor vessel, she crouched down to gingerly shut her eyes. She murmured a quick spell and the hex bag and the body burst into a bright flame, engulfing Rowena with heat that seeped to her bones.

Out of respect for the dead, Rowena lingered until the body was no more.

Rowena caught herself staring in front of the mirror and noticed a younger face in the reflection.

It was an odd thing to take note of given her age that was nowhere near youthfulness, but the subtle differences were there, like the laugh lines and small crow’s feet that she gained in the last five years were gone, replaced with smoother and firmer skin. She closely resembled the person she used to be, the proud witch untouched by time that never had the pleasure of meeting Lucifer.

If there was something else she took comfort in her newfound situation, it was that Lucifer remained locked up in a cage. She would’ve hoped for eternity, though with the amount of Apocalypse that happened in the previous years of her time, it was probably asking for too much.

Rowena frowned in the sudden realization that with her foreknowledge, she could stop that herself.

As quick as the idea formed, there came in the numerous issues she could already see. First, the Apocalypse was a divine concerto planned for several millennia, with both sides actively working towards the same goal. Second, Heaven and Hell were both in their peak, the former with its garrisons of angels and the latter with its generals loyal to Lucifer. Third, Rowena was working alone with neither the Book of the Damned and the Black Grimoire, which the lack of either shouldn’t pose much of a problem with her intimate knowledge of the contents of both.

Unfortunately, unbound magic or not, Rowena wasn’t suicidal enough to risk facing both Heaven and Hell, and most certainly not without a card up her sleeve.

Or she could let it all play out the same way it did before; the Winchesters would surely put a stop on the end of the world anyway, with or without her aid. Except that choice was making her strangely guilty like she owed the boys this. Hell, Sam himself admitted that they unknowingly caused the first Apocalypse, and Rowena had been occupied with skipping cities and conning desperate women to even know the world was ending.

But no Apocalypse also meant no Lucifer not only for Sam but also for her, and Rowena could see the appeal in that despite the stack of odds. Besides, it wasn’t like she wasn’t there when it was God and The Darkness duking it out, though there were allies back then and God was on their side.

Bloody hell, this was the main reason she was a pagan in the first place.

The initial plan was to indirectly give Sam Winchester an ample protection a witch could provide, until a serious reconsideration forced her to try a different approach that she wasn’t looking forward to try.

Mildly miffed, Rowena took a sip at the stale tea that dared call itself herbal; it did nothing but worsen her ire on the terribly rowdy surroundings and the gaudy shade of green and pink all over the place.    

“That bad, huh?” said a male voice. She looked up to the barista who served her earlier. At her raised eyebrow, the young man elaborated, “The hangover.”  

No, it was the bloody temporal displacement and the baggage that came along with it, Rowena was close to saying. “Not a hangover,” she muttered in disinterest.

“Not that I’m judging,” the boy said, raising his empty hands slightly. “So where’s the renaissance fair?”

She vaguely wondered why the boy won’t sod off already. “The fair,” she repeated testily.

“You look like you came from one.” The boy smiled impishly. “Or going to.”

If that was supposed to be endearing, then he was failing miserably.  “Is there something wrong with what I’m wearing, dearie?” Rowena asked sweetly.

The boy shrugged. “Hey, you’re rocking them. Just saying you don’t fit with the elements, is all.”

Rowena wrinkled her nose at the gaggle of loud whippersnappers that came in. “Then pray tell how do pajamas in afternoon fit in.”

The barista followed Rowena’s line of sight. “Uh, because this is a university campus and that’s a college student wearing one? And this place is literally named Coffee Beans and Tea Leaves,” he answered like it was the most obvious thing.

“Ah, yes, I forgot I’m blending in with a bunch of hippies.”

The boy chuckled. “First time?”

“What gave it away?”

The tone earned her another huff of laughter. “So will I be seeing you around here often?” He seemed delighted at the prospect. The boy was sorely lacking in propriety.

Kids.

Rowena gazed up at him, found that the boy’s name was Louis, and simpered. “No.”

Rowena stalked the hallways of the campus, getting a few attentions here and there that she ignored for the purpose of finding the damned library of the building, her best bet in finding Sam Winchester and be done with this place.

The clicking of her heels reverberated through the corridor barren of any students except the lone janitor mopping the marble floors. The man looked up as she passed him, and she paid the man no heed as he stopped working and stared.

Rowena slowed once she could see the end of the hall with an opened door. Pausing, she let out an exhale and—

The surroundings changed abruptly to a warehouse.

Whirling around in alarm, Rowena found the janitor behind, observing her with a frown.

He might have done something with her vision as well—she could see his face shifting without a fixed set of features as if its face was scrambling to maintain its looks.

“What are you?” she demanded, fingers twitching in preparation.

“Okay, hear me out, lady,” the man—creature or whatever—suddenly said in a voice that sounded distantly familiar. “If I’m wrong, I’ll remove this encounter from your memory, but if I’m right… You’re here for Sam Winchester too, aren’t you?”

Rowena was immediately on high alert, raising her right hand. Was somebody following her movements? “Again. What. Are. You?”

It let out a sigh that resembled relief of all things. It snapped before Rowena could react, and its face began righting itself in a recognizable one.

Rowena’s eyes widened. “You—What are you doing here?”

Gabriel shrugged, eyes lit up amusedly. “I could ask you the same thing, lady.”

“Same circumstances, huh?”

“Except you missed out on the next two years.”

“No regrets here. Don’t want to see Dad wrathful.”

“Only on humans, Jack, and Castiel.”

Gabriel shook his head. “Dad doesn’t do things by halves. He was probably mad at everyone.”

“Are you here long?” Rowena asked.

“Last I remember was dying in the Apocalypse World, then I woke up a month ago,” he said. “You?”

That was roughly the same time she arrived, give or take a few days. “Same.”

“I’d say this is the Winchesters last-ditched attempt to fix everything, but I doubt it if neither of them knows anything.”

“You mean it’s not you?” Rowena rolled her eyes when Gabriel looked nonplused. “You’re the one who likes faking his own death and with enough mojo to pull it off.”

“That was one time,” Gabriel retorted. “I did die for real, and, no, my grace back then was too low for this.” He gestured vaguely between the two of them. “Actually, I believe it’s Jack.”

“That boy is dead,” Rowena told him somberly. She quite liked the kid and how little of Lucifer there was in him despite being soulless. His heart had been in the right place.

“Sure, but he could be awake where he ended up to, and I don’t know either whether it’s the Empty or Heaven.”

It wasn’t Gabriel, the Winchesters, and they have no proof that it was Jack. And if it really wasn’t the latter, Rowena couldn’t think of anyone else who would trouble themselves and strong enough to hide her and Gabriel’s situation from Chuck.

“Do you think He knows?”

Gabriel took a while to answer. “I won’t be surprised if Dad does.” He then smiled wryly. “As of now, trust me when I said he won’t bother us.”

Rowena wasn’t assured by Gabriel’s nonchalance and certainty. “Why won’t He? He knows about the future we came from, and from mine where his favorite characters pissed him off. I’ll understand if he won’t write off a son of his, but I’m not really held in the same regard.”

“But you are now, one of his important characters, I mean,” Gabriel said with a slight grin. “Dad is a writer—a shitty one, admittedly—who’s damn proud of his magnum opus. The two of us are his greatest plot twists in the story at this very moment, and if there’s one thing writers like the most, it’s creating a major revelation that’ll go down in history.”

When Gabriel put it like that… Rowena couldn’t really speak for Chuck, and if there was anyone who knew him better, it would be an archangel of his. “What do you propose we do?” she asked for the principle of it, knowing the inevitability of how to proceed from then on.

“I may have a few ideas,” Gabriel replied noncommittally, rubbing his chin in thought. “Honestly, I haven’t thought out this far.”

Rowena wasn’t fooled by the mischievous grin that widened almost imperceptibly.

Almost.

She has a bad feeling about this.

When Gabriel suggested they actively participate in the game on board named the Apocalypse 1.0, Rowena wasn’t told that it involved integrating themselves on the university population.

“If Hell already placed one of its agents near Sam, then so should we,” was Gabriel’s excuse.

“Then replicate yourself,” Rowena countered.

“Where’s the fun in that?”

An instructor in World History had apparently been given a grant by a rather generous (and mysterious) organization to pursue his research on the fallen civilization of Greece, promptly making him leave his post at Stanford within the second month of the semester. The faculty was sad to see an esteemed colleague go, while the students were pretty indifferent to the news, mostly claiming that they took part in the class for easy addition of units.

There was a distinctive change in opinion among the student body when Professor Gabe Shurley came in.

Prof. Shurley was a man in his early thirties with a charming personality and a love of puns and innuendos, who knew his stuff though he tended to make outrageous claims out of vague facts, such as insisting that Alexander the Great and Hephaestion’s favorite activity was swordplay, in more ways than one, which his students learned to take in jests. He was creative in his exams and papers, and so was in punishing cheaters that any attempt to commit the act was intentionally causing oneself grievous harm.   

Prof. Shurley was a known sweet-tooth in his adorable 5’8’’ glory, with an infamous oral fixation and a notorious crush on the new nurse from the annex building.

Nurse MacLeod was of Scottish descent with a sexy accent, wildfire hair, milky-white skin, and a dancer’s physique that must have meant she was flexible, as per Prof. Shurley’s exact words. She was, more often than not, found with a perpetual scowl as if seemingly displeased with life in general. It intimidated quite a few male students who have no business to be staying in the clinic other than to check out how skimpy Ms. MacLeod’s skirt was for that day, while Prof. Shurley only found the attitude incredibly attractive, occasionally referring to her as ‘Firecracker’ or ‘Tigress’ in his long, wistful waxing of poetic in between lectures.

“I wanna be that stick up her ass,” Prof. Shurley let slip once.

Unbeknownst to everybody else, Prof. Shurley and Ms. MacLeod were living under one roof, occasionally enjoying kinky sex that made Casa Erotica a nursery rhyme video in comparison, though often out of working out some frustrations and clearing their heads. They were, after all, two major players on the replay of the first try at the end of the world.

For two people whose first interaction was a hook up in a library some distant past-future ago, they’ve easily fallen in a routine of keeping up appearances throughout the day, with Rowena taking up to reading volumes upon volumes that Gabriel would give her during the empty clinic. Sometimes with sex included, sometimes they schemed, and sometimes they did both simultaneously (you would be surprised at how ideas sprang during such moments). Gabriel, meanwhile, would pop in and out of town between breaks, bringing her with him on occasions, off to the other side of the globe on multiple occasions for something as simple as a unique ice cream flavor or doing his other job (exacting discipline to those he deemed needed it the trickster way), though frequently for gathering the rare ingredients that Rowena would need for usually modified spells she had taken a particular in, claiming they would be useful for worst-case scenarios.

“I saw some of Azazel’s minions today,” Gabriel said one evening, idly playing with a curl of red hair when Rowena didn’t bat his hand away.

“And?”

“They can’t get in the perimeter,” he answered. “The experiment worked.”

They had drabbled with an experimental spell that consisted of defensive Norse runes and a strong containment curse from the Book of the Damned that Rowena had memorized and repurposed to a repellant hex, which they then tested on the outer walls of the campus. The first layer was done, and all that was left was to weed out the demons within the campus grounds.

“I still don’t understand why you can’t just smite the rest,” Rowena muttered. “Clear them all in one sweep.”

“I would, but, well, I’ll be earning some attention using that much grace, and I’m hiding not only from my original family,” he sounded sheepish.

“Oh?” Rowena leaned on an elbow with interest.

Gabriel blinked, turning. “Right. You don’t know the story.” He glanced away briefly, though his eyes remained distant even when they met hers.

What passed as pillow talk consisted of Gabriel sharing about his time mingling with the pagan deities, making a deal with the actual Loki of Norse Mythology, and of Lucifer’s escape and Odin’s death by his hands that Loki had solely blamed on Gabriel, that in retaliation had him sold to Asmodeus.

Gabriel stopped speaking, and by then Rowena had pieced the bits and pieces she knew from Sam. “I won’t ask if you don’t want to tell,” she said carefully, realizing they fell on a touchy subject.

There was a minute shift in Gabriel’s features that Rowena mistook as a trick of the eye, and he began talking again, though of his early adventures in serving just desserts that caught the Winchesters’ attention, and of shacking up with porn stars in between. Gabriel spoke of much earlier times with the rise of great empires and cities that eventually fall; of the species that once roamed the Earth until it was the time for humans; and of the birth of stars and constellations that Gabriel witnessed himself and tremendously admired.       

Rowena didn’t remember falling asleep, though she couldn’t be blamed if it was to the voice of God’s messenger and his fingers carding her hair.

Gabriel left the next day, claiming a sudden business he has to take care of.

Rowena didn’t pry, sending him away with a dismissive hand, chiding him to be quick since, for all their planning, they were yet to make direct contact with Sam Winchester who was an important factor to the sodding Apocalypse and their primary reason in mingling with the college children in the first place.

Gabriel left with a smile that didn’t reach the eyes, and whatever his business was, Rowena thought it must have been personal.

She wasn’t imagining the storm of fury brewing behind his eyes.

A week of Gabriel’s absence, Crowley materialized one evening in the middle of the room.

“Cozy,” he commented, idly looking around. He was thinner and younger, but it was the same vessel she came to know. He raised an eyebrow at a hanging green bathrobe. “Not interrupting, am I?”

Gabriel’s leave was an awfully convenient thing, and it was a stroke of luck that Crowley didn’t appear at the room where she conducted her work. “Took you long enough to drop by,” Rowena said in greeting, cautiously making a move to stand.

“Well, places to be about and paperwork to be done,” Crowley answered, approaching a wall and trailing a hand. “I’ll be honest. I’ve only decided to visit to avoid a… caterwauling group of fanatics situated near my department. One can only hear so much of the untimely death of their dear prince.”

Rowena pretended not to perk in interest at the offhanded remark. She didn’t know the princes of hell aside from Azazel and Asmodeus, and there was one that briefly kept Kelly Kline during her pregnancy. One of the princes died, and if it was one of the three that shouldn’t have prematurely, it only meant that something already changed in this timeline.

“Imagine my surprise when a letter made its way to my desk, delivered by an absent employee when I came looking.” Crowley regarded her fully after checking behind the drapes. “The years have been kind to you.”

“They’re not, my dear,” she disagreed ruefully. “But that is flattering of you.”

“I assume this is related as to why you asked for me,” Crowley said flippantly, stepping closer towards her. “What can I do for you, mother?”

“Have you not read the letter? I only wish to—”

“See me, yes, share a cuppa and trade gossips, yadda, yadda, yadda,” he drawled, producing the letter out of thin air. “Forgive me, Mum, if it all sounds so bogus.”

“Yet you’re here anyway.”

“Color me intrigued when a half-done contract contained my mother’s name,” Crowley said. “All that trouble to earn my attention. For once, I feel the motherly affection.”

Rowena sighed though completely expecting this flair for the dramatics. She was fortunate that he was yet to make a move to hurt her. “Would you like a cup of tea?”

“No,” Crowley said shortly. “What I’d like is to get to the point and tell me what the Hell you want.”

“Then I have nothing to say, Fergus,” said Rowena patiently.

Crowley raised a finger. “Actually, I think there is one more thing you can tell me.” He crowded Rowena, drawing up to his full stature and stopped by mere inches. “You’ve asked my employee for her boss specifically, meaning you knew where and what I am now after all those years. I would have known if you made a contract with another to come by this information, but I do believe you have a certain aversion to demons and those who deal with them.”

Rowena hesitated. Should she tell the truth? She would, and while she was confident that Fergus would wisely make use of what she knew of the future, it would also mean telling about Gabriel who was in hiding. It wasn’t a matter of Gabriel handling a horde of opposition but rather his confidence in her and the mutual understanding they’ve reached.

“I wish I could tell you, Fergus—”

Crowley’s hand found Rowena’s throat. “I could snap your neck like a twig,” he spoke. “Always wanted that—dreamt of it in the racks.”

Rowena’s lips pursed. “Not that I expect any less. I would have done the same to the mother who had as good as abandoned me in a ditch to pursue her career. I’m glad you inherited my sensibilities, that there’s more of me in you than your father.”

“So I do have a father,” he muttered, despondent.

“Witchcraft can’t stand for a substitute, unfortunately.” Rowena walked away when the fingers loosened, putting a distance. “Also because your dear mother was weak and made a dire mistake.”

Crowley snorted. “Ah, yes, yours truly.”

“I thought so too,” she acquiesced softly. “Learned otherwise the hard way,” she murmured.

Rowena heard a light hum. She hazarded turning her back once she got the intuition that Crowley wasn’t there to kill her. Not yet anyway. She could see him frowning, gauging her critically.

When she turned around, Crowley was gone.

“Hey.” Gabriel was leaning against the doorway when he appeared without a sound by midnight. “Started without me. I’m hurt.”

“I’m sure you can make more.” Rowena watched the red swirl on the wine glass. At the current lighting, it resembled blood. “Salud.”

“Vintage,” he observed, frowning at the taste. “But not old enough.”

An hour of Indian-sitting on the floor and passing bottles after bottles back and forth without speaking, Rowena began feeling the signs of intoxication.

Huh. That answered what her limits were under a sobriety charm. “There’s tingling in my fingers.”

“Okay, that’s it, Legolas.” In swish of his index finger, Gabriel cleared the floor. “We can drown ourselves in a pool of red when all this is over.”

“When will that be, another century?”

“I hope not. Can’t stomach another millennia of family feud.”

“Makes sense, with you picking off Princes of Hell who’s not supposed to die yet.”

Gabriel’s face went stony. “Doesn’t matter if you’re getting all friendly with a demon. The future King of Hell at that,” he shot back sardonically.

Rowena scoffed. “I can’t reconnect with my son now?”

“Except that’s not the same person you knew and died before you. That, what, just because he’s your son he won’t use what you told him?” He laughed humorlessly. “Like, c’mon. You should know him well.”

“You think I don’t?” Rowena challenged. “I do, and that’s why I didn’t say anything. I’ve turned soft and depressingly moral, but I’m not an idiot, you bampot.”

Gabriel huffed. He believed her words, surprisingly, that had him look terribly chastised afterwards.   

He slumped heavily next to her, their backs against the side of the bed. “How did we even get here?” he asked after a while.

“I thought we already established that we don’t know.” Rowena sounded defeated.

“Nah. I mean, why are we even here? And that’s not an existential question.”

Rowena’s gaze flickered. She didn’t really have the energy to think at the moment, though she could pinpoint where it all started going shit. “Because your Daddy felt threatened by his dear ‘ol grandson.”

Gabriel seemed like he wanted to defend his father and yet not finding the strength for it. “Sounds about right,” he muttered listlessly. “Frankly, I don’t see the logic. A Nephilim is made up of both his first and favorite creations. Doesn’t that mean it’s two specials in one? And they’re called abominations.”

“Because one with an archangel father can rip the world a new one,” she pointed out. She wasn’t siding in Chuck’s defense, but she could understand how that would be problematic among a bunch of normal humans.

“Please, that one’s on Lucifer for not using a condom,” Gabriel argued, annoyed. “We lucked out with Jack’s good other half and the influence by his three better dads.”

“I’m surprised Michael didn’t do the same to another poor girl. I’m surprised nobody in Heaven thought to use Nephilim as weapons in the Apocalypse.”

“Michael and Raphael are known stickler for rules, but they’re not so—not that heartless, lady.” Gabriel frowned, reconsidering when he realized he used the wrong word. “But angels are no different from men when driven to desperation, so, yeah, I could sorta see them using that as Plan X.”

Rowena let out a delicate snort. “That’s reassuring.”

“Mmhm. They won’t, though. They’re too proud to lay with those they consider beneath them.” Gabriel playfully nudged her shoulder with his. “I’d say they’re missing out a lot.”

That has to be the worst come-on Rowena received from him. She rolled her eyes. “I’m pleased you never bothered lecturing your brethren.”

“Lecture them? Please.” Gabriel jutted his chin in thought. “Though it did enter my mind. Siring one, I mean. But it wouldn’t have been a Nephilim. There’s no word for it.”

“An offspring of an archangel and?”

“A Hindu Goddess,” he said with a toothy grin. “Kali, specifically. Think what a ferocious little beast our kid’s gonna be. His Mum’s a war goddess, his Dad’s the best-looking trickster angel there is. He’ll be getting good genes.”

“Aye. Or he could be short with ten heads, ten arms and legs. Ferocious little beast, indeed.”

Gabriel mock-pouted. “You wound me. What about ours though? If I don’t love Dad enough to fuck him over, I’d suggest we make a Nephilim. Can you imagine one born from a natural witch and an archangel?”

And unlike Kelly Kline, Rowena would make sure not to die from childbirth. “Better a girl to inherit my abilities,” she added, sliding on Gabriel’s lap easily.

“A witch Nephilim.” Gabriel’s grin was stretched too wide at the prospect. “Dad will hate her more than Jack, and not only because of her mojo. The sass that kid’s gonna have.”

“Imagine the mouth she’ll have,” Rowena murmured against Gabriel’s neck.

“I think I can,” he said, patting the side of Rowena’s head when she nibbled on his earlobe. “The mother’s, ah, proof of it.”

Rowena pulled away, chuckling a little. “Bit too sweet, dear,” she said slyly, standing to disappear to the bathroom, leaving him ambling around for the better part of three minutes until the bathroom door went ajar.

Gabriel didn’t need any prompting to take it as an invitation.

Autumn break rolled in without much fanfare and any difficult encounters; Sam Winchester included.  After finishing the layers of defense that theoretically should resist both angels and demons alike, it was tremendously dull, the days dragging and with hardly anything to distract Rowena.

The peak of the month was when Gabriel had enlisted her assistance the week previous on a project that Rowena didn’t get many details on aside from setting a special ‘surprise’ for someone, which Gabriel worded with utter enthusiasm and a glint of mischief. With the specific warding he asked of her and upon discovering the abundance of sulfur and salt on the ingredients he had fetched for her, Rowena concluded that the someone was a demon.    

While she knew Gabriel wouldn’t keep it from her if she asked, Rowena didn’t want to indulge him. She was happy to be occupied in the meantime.  

Rowena should know better than to trust a trickster.      

Apparently, Prof. Shurley was well-liked by practically everybody that when he instigated a Halloween party and handed out an invitation by word of mouth, double the amount of students of a single class appeared at the front steps of his bloody frat house conjured out of the blue for catering to a single party that Gabriel deemed special.

Rowena wouldn’t have been there, with the drunk and children in garish costumes exchanging spits left and right, if she didn’t read more into his giddiness belying a hidden agenda that Gabriel didn’t deem necessary to say outright.

Perhaps it was for the best, seeing as not an hour in, Gabriel sought her with his arm wrapped around familiarly to a tall boy who he introduced from his class.

“Ro, I want you to meet Sam Wesson, the finest student of World History 101,” Gabriel eagerly introduced.

While the flannel was a familiar sight, Rowena first noticed the long hair that extended above Sam’s eyes, then made an observation that answered the question of whether a younger Sam was already a tall drink of water. She imagined quite a few scenarios before how her meeting with a young Sam would go down.

Sam reminding Rowena of a cattle breed from Scotland wasn’t one of them.

“Sam, this is Ms. MacLeod which I’m sure you’ve heard of from me every day,” Gabriel told Sam in turn, winking saucily. “Who is now a muse of mine after my own heart.”

Sam looked abashed to be within the proximity of Gabriel’s hyperbolized flirting. “Hello, ma’am,” he greeted politely.

“Aren’t you a little shy for your own good, Samuel?” Rowena couldn’t resist teasing, making Sam flinch a bit at the name. “It is Samuel, isn’t it?”

“Uh, yeah.” Sam smiled tightly, a tad sadly. “If you’ll excuse me. I think I just saw my friend stumble and hit his head.”

“You scared the kid,” Gabriel said, watching with Rowena Sam’s retreating back after a hasty exit.

“I’m not the one who’s acting like his long-time friend,” she retorted.

“Technically, that’s right,” he replied cheekily. “’sides, that’s Prof. Shurley for you. He’s friends with everyone, to the reluctant or otherwise.” Gabriel jerked his red solo cup to the direction Sam disappeared to. “Also, I don’t think Samsquatch’s lying. I did see someone about to hurl his guts out.”

“What in the world are you giving these kids?” Not that Rowena could care less; she simply wasn’t looking forward to a couple of mewling children complaining about the most massive hangover of their lives tomorrow.

“Nothing harmful, trust me,” Gabriel said before tipping the contents of his cup in one gulp. “To humans, that is.”

A boy was making his way to the door in a stumble, unnoticed, and as if ran over by a truck, sweaty and disheveled. Sensing eyed on him, the boy whirled, his eyes unfocused and furious like a cornered wild animal.

When his eyes zeroed on Gabriel’s steady ones, the boy’s face drained of what little color it had.

Brady almost tore the door off its hinges in his hurry. He would have if every fiber of his self-preservation weren’t screaming for him to flee this deathtrap of a house.

He couldn’t believe he was caught off-guard after his instincts already picked up a weak thrum of protective magic surrounding the place, the kind that he chalked up to the house being old and previously in possession of a religious family. Brady would have been suspicious, but that meant putting credit to this hedonistic dunce of a man who called himself a teacher. See, this was the kind of humans Hell profited on.

Brady took comfort on the human stupidity, particularly those of people around Sam Winchester. It made his job easier, albeit dull and mawkish when keeping up appearances as Winchester’s close friend. Still, a job well-done to Lord Azazel was a job without any form of hindrance.

That was until a small dose of holy water inexplicably made its way to his drink.

Brady had felt the liquid burn his throat and esophagus first before it burned his mouth, making him rush to the restroom and vomited what he could heave out. What he excreted was a mix of red chunks and black phlegm that had him forcing two more fingers down his throat in order to remove the contaminant out of his system before it killed the vessel from the inside.

The regeneration of the portion of his tongue and lips was slow, and for a second, he feared that the concoction—he refused to believe it was as simple as holy water at this point—did lasting harm to his vessel. He couldn’t afford a change now, not when the vessel was personally given to him by Lord Azazel. His vessel’s death meant death for him as well.

Brady left the restroom, deliriously looking around every face in the cramped living room. Was it a hunter? He knew of the restlessness among the lower ranks. Rumors had been floating around that Lord Azazel’s foot soldiers were being put down one by one, and judging by the skill and how precise the tracks were covered, it was a seasoned hunter that, much to his surprise, wasn’t John Winchester. That was the last news Brady had heard from Hell.

No, it couldn’t be that hunter. Only Lord Azazel and he were aware of his mission, the main reason why Brady couldn’t risk an attempt to investigate on his own the sudden disruption in his connection, not to mention the lack of reachable henchmen he could order.

Then who the fuck was it? Who was stupid enough to dare obstruct—

Brady chanced to turn around and he realized too late that he got his answer.

A fucking archangel.

No, no, no—it was supposed to be only Michael and it would be years before they deal with him! The Apocalypse would officially start when Lord Lucifer was finally freed, and only then would Michael and the Heavenly Host in his back would make their opposing move. Nobody said that Heaven would send out an agent to foil the plan.

With Raphael known to be on the side of bringing the Apocalypse to fruition, there was only one archangel left who remained neutral on the matter and who hadn’t been seen for thousands of years.

Gabriel’s divinity was obscured by the pagan entity he was wearing, though it wasn’t enough to completely dim the intensity of his grace. He could wear layers upon layers of pagan entities and they wouldn’t suppress his true identity.

Or maybe that was exactly what Gabriel wanted him to see.

Brady should have known there was something fishy with the little weasel shit.    

“Brady!” He heard Sam called from behind before running towards him. “Are you—what’s wrong? Do you need help—”

“Don’t touch me!” Brady seethed when Sam turned him by the shoulder. Sam looked surprised at his reaction, and Brady didn’t really need the added problem of Sam suspecting him; the oaf was too fucking perceptive. “I’m sorry, Sam. I just—I feel sick after starting too early.” He gave a wry chuckle. “But I’ll be fine going back.” He smacked Sam’s arm lightly. “Go on and get wasted. All study and no play makes you a dull boy.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Seriously, though. If you need anything, call me. Or Jess. We’ll be there.”

How awfully kind and ridiculously soft. It was in situations like this when Brady doubted this kid was truly Lord Lucifer’s true vessel. “Thanks, Sam.”

The more time Sam took to watch him go, the more pathetic Brady looked for not being able to escape somewhere in a blink. Brady cursed Sam Winchester and his abominable family under his breath until he reached the other side of the street.

With a gesture, Brady escaped under the darkness of the night.

And fell.

The drop was a sudden thing; one moment he was standing, and next the back of his meatsuit was slamming the ground. Every bone of his vessel was broken in five ways, and when he looked up he was outdoors, in an open pit of freshly-dug earth.

A silhouette above took shape, peering below at him.

“Get me out of here. Now,” Brady demanded but what left his mouth was a pitiful set of squeaks no better than a rat’s.

The figure clicked its tongue. “Look at that,” it said. “Another victim. Poor lad.”

“I said, get me out of here!” A gurgle came out in place of his yell.

The figure didn’t appear to hear any sound, starting to shovel back the earth on the pit.

Brady’s attempts at movement were fruitless and at best a writhing gesture that made him seem like a worm convulsing underneath the soil that began piling up quickly until the earth was on his eyes, inside his ears, nose, and mouth.

He let out a noise that went unheard six feet under.

Rowena murmured, hovering her hands above the young man’s chest and forehead. “He’s still there. Weak,” she confirmed.

“Good. That’s good,” Gabriel muttered distractedly, pacing. “Oh, man. This demon sucks at obstacle challenge.”

Rowena ignored him for the meantime in favor of saving the vessel and communicating with the person that remained inside while keeping the demon possessing him unaware.

She would have preferred it if the body was lying down on its back instead of sitting and roped tightly against the chair carved with demon traps. She tipped his chin and tore his shirt. Rowena wrote swiftly with a brush dipped in a special concoction. She wasn’t sure how long Gabriel could keep the demon occupied; probably for as long as Gabriel was entertained, but the quicker Rowena move, the greater the chance to pull out the young man back safely.

“Dico vobis levate manum, eo cui corporis huius,” Rowena chanted. “Sequimini me, et audi vocem meam. Imperium accipere gratiam immundos fugare templum tuum, qui aues…”

It took her two repetitions for the body to respond by convulsing on the chair before a sharp gasp broke through and wide, terrified eyes unfocused as he took in his surroundings in panic. “W-Where—”

“Hush now, lad. You have to calm down,” Rowena told him, clicking her fingers in front of his face to get his attention. “Brady. Brady Wilson,” she called firmly. “Look at me and me alone.”

Brady Wilson’s attention snapped to her as his face crumpled in fear and agony. “Help me. P-Please, help me.”

“I will help you with the demon expulsion, but you have to calm down or you’ll alert it.”

Brady shook his head frantically. “No. Help me. Let it end. Please.”

Rowena froze at the request, and before she could form a reply he spoke again, pleading as he gripped her hand on what little movement he could make against the ropes.

“I know what they’ll do. They’ll kill me, you, my family, my friends Sam and Jess. They don’t know what happened to me. Kill me and the demon.”

And that was the fastest way to finish it, wasn’t it? Gabriel told him that this mole was an integral part of Azazel’s scheme, and irreplaceable unlike the rest of his followers. Killing him early would at least hinder Jessica’s death and in turn Sam’s immediate return to hunting. The boy was asking for it, and not only it would be saving them the time, effort, and resources, it would be mercy.

Had it been some time ago, Rowena wouldn’t have hesitated.

She cut the ropes, propping him on the chair properly while she methodically let the blood flow back to his wrists. She was conscious of him blearily looking at her and leaning to her touch on his forehead and hair. She could no longer feel Gabriel’s presence behind her, and she knew he was in that crafted world of his, personally taking care of the vermin because Gabriel always wanted to have fun with those that actually deserved the trickster experience.

“I don’t want to hear that again from you, you hear me?” Rowena said, mildly reprimanding. “I won’t let you, young man, and the angel won’t either.”

Rowena didn’t let him get a word in edgewise and began the exorcism.  

It was a peculiar thing to see Gabriel use the door, Rowena thought idly.

“Done,” he said. “He won’t remember getting possessed, and his memories of the past year will be fuzzy once he wakes up tomorrow, but that’ll be better for him.”

“And the demon?”

“Killed in a trial by combat in Westeros.” At Rowena’s confused frown, he waved his hand. Gabriel jumped on the bed, unwrapping a bar of chocolate and tossing another to her. “Good job on the exorcism.”

Rowena wasn’t a fan of sweets, but she would rather have something that wasn’t alcoholic right then. She scooted beside him and tore a small piece of the Swiss dark chocolate. “The lad wanted to die, you know,” she said absently, careful not to spill any bits on the comforter.   

Gabriel was looking at her silently.

“I don’t know him,” she continued. “It would be nothing personal, and he would thank me for it.”

She saw numerous times demons getting killed while inside their meatsuit—she had killed a couple—and perhaps that would make any forget about the living person within. It wasn’t a particular issue she and the Winchesters dwell on, but what happened earlier made her rethink her approach and outlook on a few things.

He was still watching her, and whatever he saw, it was enough to make him smile genuinely. “You did good today, Rowena.”

She did, didn’t she? In a relatively general sense of ‘good’.

Rowena wanted to huff a denial, to insist on maintaining an image within the morally gray area, but it wasn’t often that she got something of an acknowledgment for a deed.

It was… nice.     

Rowena met Sam Winchester again the next day.

He didn’t pose a flattering sight, propped by a tall blonde girl who helped the giant to the clinic. Taking pity, Rowena assisted her in lugging Sam to the cot.

“I’m sorry for barging in this way, Miss MacLeod, but you’re the only nurse on duty I know during the holidays,” the girl said immediately. “He’s been feeling under the weather since yesterday, and I thought it was just a hangover since he never really drank heavily. But then he got a mild fever this morning. I did my best lowering it down, but—” She sighed glumly. “It’s out of season but I think it’s flu.”

Rowena felt mildly guilty for the girl’s apparent concern. “He’ll be fine, dearie. I’ll give him mefenamic for the migraine he’ll surely have when he wakes up. Just let him rest here for a few hours if you have somewhere to be.”

The girl appeared slightly hesitant to leave but grateful nonetheless. “Alright. Thank you, miss. I’ll leave Sam to you for a bit. I might as well get him lunch.”

“A meal with hot soup will do nicely,” Rowena suggested. The girl politely bid her goodbye and was already at the door when Rowena called her. “What’s your name again?”

“Jessica. Jessica Moore,” she said with a bright smile. “I’ll see you later, Miss MacLeod.”

Rowena remained staring at the closed door. So the sweet and caring pretty lass was Jessica. Rowena wondered why she hadn’t piece it together the moment she saw her enter.

But maybe it was the years knowing Sam Winchester too; she was a little familiar with his taste in women in the later years.

“I don’t know what happened to your standards, Samuel,” she muttered.

“Tastes change, you know,” Gabriel said, appearing closely behind her. He grinned at her jolt of surprise. “Also, can you fault him for liking dangerous women?”

“The good lot they did to him,” she scoffed. “No wonder he thought he was cursed, with the women he got involved with dying left and right.”   

Gabriel rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “If I remember the books correctly, only those he slept with, then some.” He paused. “Wait. Does that mean you and him—”

“Och. No.”

Gabriel looked skeptical.

Rowena rubbed her temple and shooed Gabriel away with her free hand. “Do your bloody thing, you angel.”  

It was anticlimactic watching him touch Sam’s forehead and chirping it was done. “Did what Castiel placed on him and his brother before. Enochian carvings on the ribs. Pretty ingenious, actually. I put back his anti-possession as well. Should hold up against demons with a class as high as a Prince.”

“And the malady you gave him?”

“Squashed like a bug.” Gabriel grinned impishly. Rowena didn’t share the same appreciation for the pun.

“You mean to say you could have done that months ago in less than two minutes,” Rowena said lowly. “What the Hell, Gabriel.”

“What? I like roleplaying. I’ve been a janitor in another uni for six years last time. I get to be a professor this time. Maybe I’ll be a student next.”

“I wasn’t told you’re the angel of universities.”

“It’s not the university itself, lady. It’s the people,” Gabriel reasoned. “Why the ungratefulness? You get to see Sam again.”

“Frankly, I’d rather didn’t.”

“Yeesh. Trouble in paradise before the time travel?”

Rowena fixed him a look. “No.”

She moved past him, leaving no room for argument. Gabriel remained by Sam’s bed, squinting his eyes down on the unconscious man. He dropped the subject, or so she thought.

“Is it the height?”

“Gabriel!” she hissed in irritation. Any louder, Sam could possibly wake.

Gabriel shrugged. “Not that I blame you. It might have occurred to me once to climb that tree.”

“What?”

“What?” he asked.

Rowena blinked.

“I’m not blind, and I can appreciate both kinds of Dad’s creations.” He definitely sounded defiant.

“Of course, dear.”

“Right.”     

Jessica returned not long later, unknowingly stumbling on the awkward silence when she checked on her boyfriend. She recognized Gabriel and the two were engaged in an animated talk that led to him seeing her out of the clinic.

“Hope you didn’t mind I stole your coin,” Gabriel said when he returned inside. “That girl’s a walking target, if you remember.”

Hard to forget, though admittedly Jessica’s importance had been trumped by prioritizing Sam. “I’ll keep her protected,” Rowena promised.

As long as Azazel and his fellow Lucifer fanatics were alive, Jessica was yet to be out of the clear.      

Rowena was just as unprepared as the first when Crowley visited the second time the following week.

By some luck, Gabriel was absent once more when it happened, sauntering somewhere off the coast, he said with a worried frown. Either he was away to check on something concerning or it was an absurdly good coincidence that probably wasn’t at all. A thought for later.  

She watched him survey the walls all over again. Somewhat amused, she quietly let him look under the drapes before he decided there was nothing out of the ordinary. Crowley considered her as if trying to figure out a puzzle. Rowena was fine with getting used to this routine if Crowley were to visit her again.

Rowena busied herself with a nightcap, and for a minute, she thought he was gone, until he asked to be poured one.

Crowley grunted appreciatively after taking a sniff. “Developed a fine taste, I see.”

“Hard not to when you have a man who can give them to you in a snap.”

“Who’s the poor rich lad?”

“Loki,” answered Rowena, sitting across her son. “That’s what he likes to be called. In his homemade movies, I mean.”

“If I didn’t know better, I would have thought you’re cohabiting with a porn star,” Crowley said. Rowena enjoyed the disgust that fleeted across his face. “But I did know better. Say, why’s a pagan god—what’s that term? Putting his finger in the pie?”

Rowena made no reply to refute the discovery. “And the pie is?”

Crowley sat back, seemingly challenging that Rowena tell him herself.

Rowena feigned nonchalance. “We enjoy each other’s company enough without being upfront with each other’s business. It’s a decent arrangement.”

“For sure,” Crowley agreed patronizingly. “A witch in the guise of a nurse. The outfit alone. My, how scandalous.”

Rowena could see what he was trying to do. She would bite; she was curious how he happened with the information after supposedly cutting off the communication between demons in and out of Stanford. “How did you find out?”

“I have my sources.” His tone was noncommittal. “What piqued my curiosity was the choice of location. While I didn’t know what possessed you to moonlight as Florence Nightingale, I wonder if there’s a specific reason why Stanford. It just so happens that a very important person, to the Netherworld, is attending there. Then there’s also the sudden demise of a secret field agent that I only found out about recently. Ironically, Hell’s been having several consecutive deaths recently.”

“Sounds like a lot of funerals in your workplace, Fergus.”

“Good riddance on some, though. That department isn’t known for their competency. The losses are not that impactful.” Crowley frowned. “I’m getting sidetracked. My little birdies also told me you’ve been hooking up with a college professor with an interesting name of Gabriel.”

“What can I say, his father is deeply religious.”

“Yes, that’s one way to put it,” he said dryly. “They said that the Messenger of the Lord has been missing for a while now. Nobody claims he’s dead, though some speculated he went native. What I think is that he has migrated to another pantheon, mingling with the indigenous tribe. They’re lesser than him in terms of divinity, but I heard they’re more fun compared to the prudes upstairs. Being a pagan deity is less conspicuous if you’re hiding from the Family, though it makes one think how he believes he can stay hidden while messing with some grand plans that involved the said family.” Crowley inclined his head. “The pie that I’m talking about, mother, is the Apocalypse itself.”

With Crowley intently watching her reaction, Rowena smoothly schooled her reaction to that of intrigue and surprise. Suffice to say, Crowley wasn’t happy with what he found, which made Rowena wanting to ask why.

If he believed her lie, was he displeased to be proven that she didn’t know any? If he was aware she was lying, was he displeased that Rowena was involved? Rowena knew of Crowley’s stand on the Apocalypse based from the previous timeline, and the sole reason he wouldn’t like Rowena’s complicity against the end of the world was that she would throw a wrench on Crowley’s own schemes.    

“What are you really doing here, mother?”

Rowena wanted to laugh. “An oft-asked question to myself, Fergus,” she replied, languidly pushing herself back on the armchair.

“A question for next time then.” Crowley began to look impatient when he couldn’t gather what he sought. Funny that he wasn’t resorting to force if he was in dire need of information. It should be the easiest to employ the method to her, of all people. He stood, flicking nonexistent lint off his suit. “Something to keep in mind: a certain faction in Hell is outsourcing a rather efficient team to look into the mysterious deaths. Not only that, a cavalry is bound to arrive soon to express their displeasure on the turn of events.” His mouth pursed, too quick for Rowena to discern whether from d. “Farvel.”    

He vanished, leaving Rowena startled at his parting words.

She wasn’t under the illusion that Fergus cared, but she would take the ‘next time’ at face value.

“We have a problem,” Gabriel said, the grimmest Rowena had seen him.

“Great. We’re having a shortage on surplus at the moment,” Rowena replied sarcastically. She turned to him, suddenly concerned when she was met with uncharacteristic silence. “Gabriel, what is it?”

“A Devil’s Gate is opened earlier than anticipated,” he said, running a hand on his hair. “Something’s wrong.”

“The Devil’s Gate?” Rowena repeated confusedly. “I thought the gate to Hell has always been opened. You do know that Fergus can visit me after all.”

“There are a few other doorways to Hell, and very few know of them. Crossroads Demons can go to the human plane since they can technically be summoned here, and because your son is the King of the Crossroads, he gets to move freely in between whenever he wanted,” he explained. “This gate I’m talking about is the main one where multiple hordes can exit all at once.” He looked up to her. “That’s where Lilith will come out per Azazel’s arrangement.”

“Then we kill her too!”

“No, you won’t like that. Her death is the final seal of Lucifer’s cage. The best we can do for her is to trap her for eternity. But, no, that’s not really the issue at hand. We forget another important person we should be keeping an eye on.” Gabriel smiled wryly. “Dean Winchester.”

Of course. Of course, they neglected Dean who was another vessel, albeit for the lesser of the two evils. “If Heaven already made its first move to rally Michael’s vessel, you’ll speak of it. Pray tell how does forgetting about the older Winchester factor in this timeline.”

“With the Devil’s Gate opened, Lilith will possibly be out within the week. That can only mean one thing: they’re pushing ahead of the schedule, probably because of our interference. All that’s left are to break the rest of the 65 seals.”

“You said killing Lilith is the last, then that means there are still 65 seals before her and those are plenty which should buy us enough time.”

“Not enough if they’re moving in an organized manner and with Azazel alive helping her.” Gabriel worried his lip. “The first seal is the righteous man spilling blood in Hell. Dean was the one to do so in the original timeline. He was there after he made a deal to save Sam’s life.”

“But Sam should be safe now. We put every bit of protection on him. He has you protecting him.”

Rowena didn’t want to think it would be all for naught. Gabriel, seemingly reading her mind, reached over to squeeze her hand reassuringly.

“We are, and that puts them in a bind. They can’t take a step that involves Sam. Not yet, at least. But they can switch up a couple of things. They killed Jessica before to push Sam back to hunting—they needed him in top shape for Lucifer—and on the road where Sam discovered about his abilities. Hence, the addiction to demon blood. Sam might be away from Dean as of now, but you do know those two love each other to death no matter the distance that if something were to happen to the other, they will do everything in their power to save one another.”

Rowena was starting to see where Dean would factor in. She let Gabriel continue.

“An accident befalling Dean will be enough to push Sam back to hunting,” Gabriel said. “As to sending Dean to Hell, it’ll be easy with John Winchester around and hunting with him. I imagine that it won’t be a difficult choice for Dean to sell his soul if, say, John mysteriously died or if they gullibly get baited with a piece of information about Yellow Eyes.”

“Targeting Dean now means killing two birds with one stone,” she concluded. “Or three, counting the death of his father.”

Gabriel nodded. “That about sums it up.”

Rowena sighed. “Then we protect him too. Now, without all the role-playing nonsense we did.”

He chuckled. “We can, but that means springing it all on him, who we are, what we are, and when we came from. Here’s to hoping that he’ll simply take them in a stride and will be reasonable to talk to.” Absently, he fiddled with her fingers. Rowena completely forgot she was holding hands with him. Huh. “Actually, I think you should let me handle this. I’m telling you so you know what we’re dealing with and who might be after you and me. I’d rather you’re prepared in case—”

“No.”

“… No?”

Rowena smiled sweetly. “No, dear. Let me take care of Dean.” She shushed him when he was clearly about to protest. “If Hell is already getting hints who’s working against them, don’t you think they’re ready to strike in the open who it is? Now, I won’t put it past them to not know a way to at least put you out of commission for a short while. They’re bound to know a trick or two, and remember that you’re only one angel against most of Hell’s faction.”

“I’m just one archangel!” Gabriel protested. At Rowena’s raised eyebrow, he grumbled, “Fine. I can see your point.”

“My point, darling, is you need to lay low a bit and let me be less conspicuous.”

“Not to offend, quite the opposite, but you enter a room and you can get everyone’s attention on you.”

“Why thank you.” Rowena preened. “And that should work nicely. I do need to get Dean’s attention, and there’s only one way I can think of how without raising his suspicion.”

As expected, Dean was by his lonesome self, nursing a bottle of beer by the bar. He was eyeing the bartender, a short-haired brunette with striking blue eyes that showed a mutual appreciation directed to her admirer. 

Well, interesting to know Dean started young with a certain type.

When it was clear that Dean was about to ask the bartender when her shift would end, Rowena actually felt bad for intervening. She quietly slid to the empty stool to the left of Dean, ordering a top-shelf bourbon and flicking her hair daintily in the process.

There were several variables that could possibly catch Dean’s attention: the shock of red hair that streaked across his peripheral vision; or the scent of lavender and raspberries that was proven to work like a charm; or the slinky black and purple dress that showed skin around the shoulders; or the sound of her manicured fingers tapping against the mahogany top as she waited; or maybe her gall to sit directly next to the person who was sending an obvious signal that he wanted to be left alone.  

It could be any of those, but the fact remained that Rowena could feel Dean’s eyes on her that lingered heavily.

Rowena turned to him, her own eyes bright with coy and red lips turned up coquettishly at the ends, and found Dean Winchester staring at her as if he had seen a ghost.

That wasn’t what she expected.

Dean blinked at her once… twice unbelievingly, his jaw fixed and face draining of color, and under the lighting, he appeared as old as when she last saw him.

“Rowena.”

It barely registered that Dean called her by name without uttering any word so far, and, oh. Oh.

Dean was like her.  

The inside of the Impala was the same as ever: it smelled of manly sweat and stale pine fresh, and the car seat with unexplainable bumps. With how worn the backrest, Rowena would hazard a guess that the vehicle was more often slept in than before.

For once, she was at the passenger’s seat, a blanket of silence between her and Dean that wasn’t pierced by his cacophonous choice of music. Oddly enough, they were both fine with the quiet.

“Where are we going?” Rowena asked after Dean made a turn on the road.

“A different motel. Dad is there where I’m staying. We need to talk somewhere.”

That was just as well. Rowena wasn’t excited meeting the Daddy Winchester. Within five minutes, Dean pulled over a 24-hour motel and parked on the almost empty parking.

Rowena exited once Dean killed the engine and waited out on her side of the car, and to her utter surprise, Dean enveloped her in an embrace.

Dean was no less short younger. She knew he was the more emotionally constipated Winchester, and the fact that he initiated a hug meant he was in dire need of it, of this. Rowena let him, squeezing him briefly before he pulled away hurriedly, awkwardly, probably thinking it cheesy to do so.

Rowena rolled her eyes fondly at him. “I missed you too, you big lug.”

“Yeah, you’re the only witch I missed.”

After the check-in at the front desk with the attendant tossing them a weird look that they pretty much ignored, they made way with to the room, each taking different parts of the room and sitting heavily.

“How long have you been back?” Dean asked, breaking the stillness that yet again settled on them.

“I’ve been here since June last year. You?”

“January last year.”

“You’re early. Earlier than us,” she commented. “I forgot to tell you that Gabriel is also the same.”

Dean’s mouth hanged open before a bark of laughter escaped him. “Why am I not even surprised that he’s also here?”

Rowena smirked. “He was the one who suggested that we seek you out. For your own protection.”

“My protection?”

It was going to be a long story, Rowena decided as she got comfortable beside Dean. She told him of what she and Gabriel had been up to since their return. She mentioned disposing of Brady, and while Dean didn’t interrupt her retelling of events, Rowena could see his gratefulness.

“We took Sam under our protection—well, Gabriel’s, specifically, and I took Jessica under mine. The entirety of that school of his while we were at it. We managed to eliminate a few from within and those waiting outside by cutting their communication. It was apparently vital to the mole disguising as giant’s friend,” Rowena said, not bothering to hide her smugness.

There was an imperceptible softness in Dean’s eyes at the mention of Sam. “Did you tell him? Did you tell Sam about the… the situation?”    

“No. And if you’re asking me, that means you don’t as well,” she said wryly. “Then we both try to keep him away from his fate for as long as we could.” There was a note of wistfulness in her tone.  

“’The things we do for love’,” Dean said. Rowena quirked a brow, and he shook his head. “I’m quoting someone. I did want to tell Sam, you know, because he’s the only person I know who will believe me and be at my back no matter what. I figured you were tempted to tell him with the same reason, especially with,” Dean shifted slightly, choosing his words carefully, “the thing between you and him.”

“Do you mean him killing me or something else?”

He sighed. “Both? I don’t know. There is something else there that you’ve danced around, right? I’m not blind, Rowena.”

Ironic thing to say when he and his angel had their fair share of ‘dancing around’. “Maybe there was, or maybe none,” she said noncommittally. “All of it are in the past now. He’s not that Samuel anymore, and with the rate we’re trying to change to change it for the better, he’ll never be the person we knew. We can tell him who we are, and he could sympathize, but he’ll never understand.”

“But he’ll be happy to be free of what would be in store for his future self,” Dean said. “We’ll be strangers to each other, but it’s a price I’m willing to pay.”

It seemed rather selfish of them to decide what was best of Sam, but Rowena couldn’t find it in her to disagree. 

“Anyway, you were telling me something about my protection?” Dean abruptly asked, a change in topic that Rowena was thankful for.

She told him of the sound theory that Gabriel formed before he sent her after Dean. Dean took it quietly, nodding grimly in agreement for the most part. In turn, he told her of his escapades as well, of trying to stop known followers of Azazel, for example, his children.

“I don’t understand why can’t we kill Lilith ahead before the first seal is broken. Her death will be out of order, hence should be useless.”

“Not saying it’s impossible, but they’ll just find a way to resurrect her until she served her purpose. Also, it’s kind of difficult ganking demons in one strike now without a demon or angel blade,” Dean admitted. “I had to resort with quick exorcism, which is preferable since the person inside can be saved, but it’s a slow process.”

“Don’t you have those at your mancave?”

“Sadly, we won’t have the bunker until 2013. The key’s still with our grandfather and Abaddon won’t be—it’s a long story for later.”

“Fine. Gabriel then. He’ll be happy to provide you with them. The demon blade, at least,” she said. “Would you like me to call him now?”

Dean looked hesitant. “I’d like to see Gabriel too, but I don’t think I can handle another reunion with a familiar face tonight.”

Rowena relented with a tired nod. “I understand, but tomorrow morning I have to. For your Enochian warding and reinforced anti-possession tattoo.”

“Do you have those too?”

“No. I never asked for them.” Dean’s face was disapproving. “Oh, don’t look at me like that. Bold of you to assume I don’t have ample protection on my own. Witch, remember?”

Dean snorted. “It’s not a jab on your pride, Rowena. But don’t you think you’re much safer with Gabriel’s protection? Dude’s an archangel, for Christ’s sake. That’s a lot of firepower on our side.”

“It’s not like the subject often comes out. We were occupied enough as it is without thinking of the Apocalypse.” Rowena crossed her arms haughtily.

Dean’s expression was sour. “I don’t want to know.” He made his way to the other bed and dumped himself face-first.

“That bad?”

Dean grunted against the pillow. He turned his face to the side without moving his body. “You have an idea.”

“I can still sleep if that’s what you mean, and it’s not as if I have too many ghosts of the past. I avoid them aside from Fergus.”

“Crowley? You met with him?”

“Twice, and it’s him fishing out information from me and the mysterious beau of mine who he believes is Loki. Technically, I’m not lying.”

“Does Crowley know?”

Rowena scoffed. “Be stupid to tell him when there’s not an ounce of humanity in him. He’s still my son, but he’s an opportunist without a shred of conscience.”

Dean smirked. “That’s him, alright.” He glanced away. “And he’s not a friend. Not yet. The thing about this time travel, you see a lot of people from the past who died a different person than what they are now. You can change them again, but it’s a gamble whether for better or worse.”

“Aye. We’re gifted with foreknowledge, but we lost the friends we gained in the past.”

“Yeah. It’s lucky that she brought you and Gabriel too. When she spoke to me and said she’ll bring me back, I thought—”

“She?” Rowena repeated numbly. “You know who brought us back.”

Dean sat up slowly before answering, “It’s Amara. She appeared to me when I died because I did die for real. With Sam.” He exhaled sharply. “When she told me she’d bring me back, I expected Sam would be here with me. He wasn’t, and in the long run, as much as I hate to admit it, it’s for the best that he didn’t.”

“Why?” she asked. “Why bring us back?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “Honestly, I give up trying to figure what these fucking bigwigs are thinking. Amara brought me back, and yeah, I guess I should be glad for the chance, but part of me keeps thinking too that you, me, and Gabriel are just another pawns, only to a different entity.”

“What choice do we have, Dean, but play on their board? Because I am playing no matter how insignificant I am compared to you and your brother and an archangel. What am I? A wee witch who has a few tricks up her sleeves and who died because she had to. I didn’t ask to return, but I don’t doubt that my end will be the same sad end as a footnote in an epic novel.”

“But your death wasn’t for nothing,” Dean insisted. “Not for me, and definitely not for Sam. For someone who’s too proud of what she is, you sure give yourself so little credit. You went out as part of us. You were family, Rowena. You came back, and you still are.”

“You certainly learned how to sweet talk,” Rowena said, unable to stop herself from giving Dean a good ribbing. “You should have—” she suddenly stopped speaking, cocking her head with a frown. “Do you hear that?”

“I don’t hear anything.” Dean was immediately on alert, his back straightening. “Rowena, what’s wrong?”

There was an incessant buzzing ringing in her ears that turned louder and louder and rang inside her head. Rowena’s head began to hurt that she hardly noticed Dean rushing to her and kneeling, shaking her by the shoulders in both fear and concern.

Amidst the sharp stab of pain in her head was a sudden realization that something was approaching them at fast speed.

There was already the sound of breaking glass the moment Rowena forcefully pushed Dean down on the floor.

Great flames swarmed them a matter of seconds, and they burned.

The walls, the ceiling, the drapes, the blankets, the pillows—the whole room was enveloped by the heat that intended to devour her and Dean. Knowing it wouldn’t let on unless both of them were charred crisps, Rowena had to think. Fast.

“Rowena?” Dean coughed and wheezed. “Are you—”

She held Dean firmly under her, and in quick successes snatched a knife from Dean’s waist and sliced her palm. She did a simple pentagram on the carpet by Dean’s head and muttered an incantation.

Despite the smoke, Rowena persisted with the spell, occasionally breaking mid-chant to heave a lungful of breaths. Dean watched her from below, his face covered by his forearm, though his eyes watering from the amount of smoke were stubbornly kept open, wide with unwavering resolute.

Dean firmly believed that she could and would tame the demonic flames, and Rowena did.

A strong gust of wind whirled in and sucked the fire in large increments through the broken window. The smoke within was cleared as the fire was smothered out by magic. Faintly, they could hear the fire alarm that set off outside the room.

Rowena staggered backward from Dean, drawing her breath with great effort and hissed at the stabs of searing pain making themselves known all at once, mostly coming from her back that she could feel from her neck through the arms and legs. Dean was about to scramble on his feet when a force suddenly knocked him aside.

“Dean!”

Rowena collided with a hard body behind her. She whirled and grimaced in pain at the sudden jerky movement, and found a strange man with ashen skin and yellow eyes towering over her within arm’s reach. She tested her right wrist and fingers, and albeit the aching, she could flick them to hurl the demon out.

“I won’t do that if I were you,” the demon warned in its raspy voice. He cocked his head at Dean’s direction and raised a closed fist. “You chant, I snap Dean’s neck here.”

Dean was telekinetically lifted up the ceiling, his throat closing from within, and worrying choking noises were coming from him the longer Rowena stood idle.  

Fuck it.

“Abite!”

While it was satisfying to watch the strike of purple lightning hit the demon squarely in the chest and throw him back with a crack, Rowena had to catch Dean as he rapidly slid down, fortunately against the wall, once he was freed from the demon’s hold.

“Dean, wake up,” Rowena called him urgently, shaking him. “We have to go, and I can’t carry you!”

But Dean refused to budge even as a presence loomed heavily behind her. Before Rowena could react, the demon pulled her up on her feet by her hair, twisting and tugging at her scalp.

“As expected of an angel’s bitch,” the demon sneered, voice grating on her ear. “There’s more magic in you than you look.”

Azazel, Rowena’s mind supplied. It was bloody Azazel.

Gabriel.

It was the last thought in her head before blackness completely overtook her.

There was a trickle of water.

Rowena woke to the acrid smell of sulfur that was palpable in the air. What she believed to be water falling in droplets against her face seemed sticky and thick. Rowena blinked her eyes open and regretted that she did.

Above her was a body of a man hanging limply and whose blood was dripping down on her. Rowena had seen revolting sights in her years, and while this hardly churned her stomach, it was the familiar stature, blond hair, and the drab flannel that had her let out a muffled scream against the gag.

Rowena turned away, struggling on her bound arms and legs on the metal table. Her eyes darted wildly in the dark and found nothing. Once her vision adjusted, the place turned out to be bare like the inside of an abandoned warehouse.

It wasn’t Hell.

Rowena calmed her breathing with deep inhales and exhales, turning her attention back to the body hanging above.

It wasn’t Dean.

In hindsight, it was ludicrous to think Dean could be killed this easy; death was infamously evasive of the Winchester brothers after all. Not to mention, Dean should be considerably experienced when it came to demonkind in his second life.        

Dean could have escaped, or Gabriel could have arrived in the nick of time. Rowena might be tied down in some dank hole, but she took comfort that she was alone for now.

She tested her hands. Iron. Figures.

There was a loud clang of heavy doors before a shuffling of feet could be heard approaching her. It was no use pretending to sleep when a faint light shone once the lifeless body above was casually set aside. A figure hovered over her, reeking of sulfur and the smell of blood and rotten flesh. He was thin and bony, with a sallow complexion.

The unfamiliar demon watched Rowena with scrutiny and the total focus of a boffin studying a specimen. He didn’t react at the glower Rowena was sending him, merely humming and mentally taking notes of his observations.

Rowena could hear the same buzzing from before when they were assaulted in the motel, and it wouldn’t be farfetched to think it was some sort of a signal of impending danger.

Something cold settled in her stomach.

“Fascinating,” the demon muttered in rapt attention. “Your body has experienced numerous deaths and yet retains its form.” His eyes darted on her right thigh. “An embedded resurrection seal. Brilliant.”

He rounded the table, producing a scalpel that gleamed under the dim lighting. He addressed her directly. “I expect your threshold is higher than most I’ve laid here on the table. Such a shame. It would have been preferable if we’re in my office downstairs.”

The cold blade dug lightly near the crook of Rowena’s left arm, and she writhed in pain when it cut down and peeled a portion of her skin.

“Shh,” the demon shushed, unperturbed at her futile attempts to twist away from the blade where a small, thin slice of flesh was sitting atop it. To her horror, the demon brought it to his mouth and ate the bit of her skin.

Rowena turned away from the sight, wanting to puke against the gag.   

The demon hummed, seemingly satisfied at the taste. “Not bad,” he said, and proceeded to calmly incised on sections of Rowena’s left arm.

Rowena screamed.

  Eventually, Rowena passed out against her will once the demon practically peeled most of her upper arm, and one could only see so much of their skin getting eaten and savored right in front of them.

When she came to, her mouth was freed from the binding though her jaw ached. She hadn’t been unconscious that long, it seemed, once she could feel her own magic struggling to mend her broken skin in gradual surges.

The demon didn’t miss the healing raw flesh, and in an expression of disapproval, he dipped the end of his blade at the tip of her pinky finger and flayed the top half.

Rowena’s howl of agony came out unhindered that rang loudly even to her own ears. The demon didn’t flinch at the sound and was in fact rather delighted if his triumphant smirk was anything to go by.

“What do you want?” she demanded, gritting her teeth in spite of the torn nerve endings that she could feel in her whole body.

She would not beg.

“Lord Azazel had asked for my service. He intends to conduct an inquiry about a mysterious party working behind the scenes,” the demon replied matter-of-factly, more interested with working on Rowena’s fingers one by one. She bit her lip to stop the cry from escaping her lips when a nail was pried off.

She would not beg.

“I was told that you’re working with an angel to stop Lord Azazel’s plans to free our Dark Father, and the quickest way to get answers is through the Grand Inquisitor.” The demon made a show of bowing. “Alastair, at your service.”        

As expected of Hell, giving out fancy titles to a lowly profession of torturer. Just her luck that it was apparently one of Hell’s finest that was sicced on her.

She had had worse, she kept reminding herself. Rowena had been at Lucifer’s mercy once. Alastair couldn’t have been worse than the Devil himself.

Rowena’s teeth sunk on her bottom lip while tips of her fingers and toes were being skinned to expose the muscles underneath. By the time Alastair was done, her lip was bleeding, blood and spit mingling down her chin.

“Within ten minutes, you’ll ask for them to get cut off, and I will for every piece of information you can give me. I only need three: a name, a reason, and hm—other names, I suppose?”

Rowena would not beg.

“The countdown starts now.”

She bit back her tongue.

Rowena didn’t beg.

  Somewhere in her addled mind, Rowena registered one thing: Alastair kept referring to Gabriel as an angel.

They didn’t even know what he was.

In the middle of Alastair hammering down a nail on a knee, Rowena laughed.

  In her experience with tortures and torturers, it was entertaining to see them arriving at the brink of desperation when they couldn’t pry from her what they wanted.

Alastair was a different case.

He never tired of asking the same questions, and instead becoming more and more methodical and endlessly inventive with his ways. Rowena’s sense of time has faded, and she wondered how long she had been there with only the company of his demon. Had the situation was different, she would have admired his dedication and ingenuity.

It was exhausting, with her body continuously agonizing over the torment, and on one hand her innate magic was doing its best to repair her in its own way. She might not felt the strength to build it in a ball in her palm, bound by wards etched on the iron that was keeping her down, but her magic was there still and wouldn’t let her just die.   

Rowena held on nonetheless.

  She knew she could handle it once she found a footing by imagining in turn how she would inflict the same kind of cruelty on Alastair the moment she was freed.

Calmly, Alastair humored her ideas, until Rowena became more vocal than he expected and he changed his tactics.

Rowena couldn’t see them, though she did sense when three hellhounds came in with their inhuman growling and heavy steps.

She wasn’t detached enough to not react in terror when the hellhounds mauled her to bits.

  “A name?”

Rowena spat on his face.

It earned her a throaty chuckle.

  Alastair left her eyesight for last.

She blinked, painstakingly and lasting for more than a millisecond, and wished that she hadn’t dared to do so.

Her father stood there where Alastair had been, his face the same as she remembered as a girl, when her father was done after a hard day’s labor but wouldn’t forget cooking her dinner and putting her to sleep at night.

“Rowena,” he said, tender and soft as he brushed her hair and kissed her temple. “My child.”

It hurt when he gutted what currently remained of her, and it began to hurt where Alastair’s tools couldn’t reach before.

With only her eyes intact and voice box and tongue ripped out, Rowena cried noiselessly when her father pierced her cheek.   

  It was Fergus next.

She almost didn’t recognize him, her one good eye aside. It was the nose, the mouth, the ears that resembled Gavin’s—but not quite—that clued her in.

Fergus was taller and thinner compared to Crowley’s meatsuit, and the fact that Rowena didn’t get to see this version of her son when he was alive was a testament on the kind of mother that she had been.

The Fergus that was staring back at her bore no recognition in his face, and when he sat down to gouge her eye out, Rowena knew she deserved it.

  Rowena woke to the shrill sound of an infant’s cries. Exhaustion seeped to her bones, and with utter difficulty held the fussing bairn to her chest until he calmed down.

She was tired, with sleep close to lull her back to its arms. She didn’t notice the makeshift bed dipping with additional weight until he spoke, leaning over to her and their son.

“He got your nose,” Roderick said fondly, his index finger reaching out to touch the baby’s small nose that twitched adorably.

Rowena didn’t answer, though she wasn’t out of it yet to not smile at him affectionately.

“I have to go, my dear,” Roderick said. “You still need blankets and food to replenish your strength. Oh, and hot water. I’ll be back, my love. Don’t wait up for me.”

She hummed distractedly, quite taken with the baby to pay attention to what he said. She knew he understood.

“I’ll give him your name,” she said when Roderick was almost by the exit.

It took him a moment to turn around, and when he did the meager lamplight wasn’t able to illuminate his face. “Yes, I’d like that,” he said, sounding oddly distant and so very far away.

With Fergus garnering all of her attention, Rowena didn’t care.

  They grew up fast, Fergus and Oskar, as quick as a blink of an eye.

It was a swirl of haze how they came to be whenever Rowena tried to think and remember. It didn’t matter a bit; Rowena loved her sons dearly that she would gladly give up her life for them, as any mother should.   

That was why she couldn’t understand why and how her hands found themselves around Oskar’s delicate neck and twisting it cruelly as if breaking a twig.

She turned to Fergus who froze after seeing the incident, and Rowena stomped on the poor boy with all her strength until the white showed. Unlike Oskar, Fergus remained alive long enough to cry. Rowena burned him while he pleaded for his mother for mercy.

“It’s okay.” It was Roderick who appeared beside her when she crumpled on the ground once she got back a semblance of control. “You did good, Rowena.”

But there was nothing good in it. There was nothing good in killing her sons.

There had been nothing good in Rowena’s entire life, with only regret and several mistakes for company.

She was her own making, what she was now.

“It’s okay,” Roderick said again, with a handsome smile that used to twist her stomach pleasantly, except now she detested that particular look that reminded her of someone she struggled to recall. “You were amazing, Red.”

Red. It was only the Devil who called her that.

“Lucifer.”

Roderick caressed her face, causing Rowena to flinch at the touch. His hold was strong and his tenderness jarring.

Rowena would not beg.

“Even better,” Lucifer said, in Roderick’s voice and face, and without preamble kissed her lips. “I’ve returned, my dear.”

She didn’t fight when Lucifer sent her ablaze.

  Rowena had drowned once.

Afloat in a void that she unknowingly fell into felt like it—the oppressive nothingness that weighed heavily on her lungs and the lack of foothold and to grab on to pull herself up.

There was no choice but to drift or fall down, whichever direction she was being directed to.

And would she know it, it actually gave her a sense of peace.

  “Rowena.”

Oh, it was Sam.

Not the young one she met recently but the one she knew longer, who had those wrinkles and laugh lines on his face that showed his age.

Sam looked well, and Rowena had a burning hatred to Lucifer and to that demon capable of playing with her mind like this.  

Sam shook his head. “No. I’m not—you’re not there at the moment.”

Lucifer has to be more convincing than that.

Sam’s expression was patient, contrite and concerned rolled in one. “I’m sorry that you haven’t quite found your peace yet. After.”

“I suppose you know of that too.” Rowena snorted in derision. It was a surprise they were only using the knowledge now against her.

“Why shouldn’t I? I am you. I am a part of you, you know.”

“I wasn’t aware my conscience looks like Samuel.”

“The appearance is all on you, I’m afraid.” Sam grinned impishly. “And, no, I’m not your conscience.”

Rowena bit, getting frustrated with the uncalled for mystery. “What are you then? The part of me that has been keen to die because I never really asked for a second try? It’s not surprising given that you look like the person who killed me. Terribly unoriginal.”

Sam hardly looked offended. “I’m the part of you that believes you deserve a second chance.”

And if it was true of course it would have Sam’s face because the giant was the first person to saw her merit. It was probably appropriate to laugh; she didn’t, though, finding the metaphor stupid.

“The mind works like that,” Sam said sagely. “It’s fascinating.”

On any other occasion, she would have agreed. It was a confounding thing, in her present opinion, that tried to fill up the gaps she hadn’t noticed, like the surroundings and what she and Sam were wearing. If it was her unconsciously doing so, then it was a strange choice to put them both in white, situated among the fields of the highlands from her childhood.

Rowena began walking, with Sam following beside her wordlessly. He wouldn’t speak if she didn’t want him to.

Yarrow beset them on both sides, and Rowena could think of a couple of spells she could do with a single ingredient. There was one for servitude that tended to boil the person’s brain; there was a charm for the home’s safety; and there were two for either good or bad luck.

She wondered idly if there was any for a swift getaway.  

“You don’t have to use any to get out of here,” Sam said. “This is your domain.”

Rowena could sense a ‘but’ despite the wistful tone. “What is it?”

“You still have to call him. Gabriel.”

Well, Rowena felt sort of bad that she had completely forgotten about him, though caring about someone who was vastly more powerful than her and the demons who had gotten her seemed a useless notion.

“He wasn’t asking you to,” Sam said, reading her mind—the concept was funny seeing as where they were. “He respects your own power, and he trusts your strength, but like you he’s also someone who believes in having a fail-safe plan. You two are in-tuned with each other in little aspects like that.” Sam gestured at himself; white suited him, Rowena noted, though it wasn’t in character of the Sam she knew. “He’s the reason why I’m here with you, how I can insist that you put yourself back out there again. It’s not too late yet.”

Sam had to do better if this was him trying to persuade her. “What if I don’t want to go back?” she asked. “What if I simply want to be here, on my own and away from everything else?”

“If that’s really what you feel, then you could banish me anytime. I told you: this is your domain. You have power here. And should you want it, I can stay here with you for as long as you want me and for as long as we’re allowed.”

Rowena wouldn’t have minded. She missed him, and she was in favor of spending the rest of the time with Sam.  

But who was she fooling? This wasn’t Sam. He was nothing but an idea of the real person, of the man Rowena had formed a genuine connection with since Roderick. This Sam was nothing but a chaste memory of the man who cared enough to weep for her death in his hands.

This Sam was but her version of what-if should she had survived with him and lived out the rest of their days together.

It was a piss-poor way to remind her that she had wanted that, once.

“It’s okay,” Sam said, wrapped around her like a friend that he had been, and Rowena latched on to him equally tight. “You have to let it go, Rowena.”

    Rowena let go and called.       

    Behind the closed eyelids, Rowena could make out the harsh white light.

In contrast was the gentle fingers cradling her head and brushing her hair. Rowena couldn’t find the strength to open her eyes yet, burrowing on the comfort that came with the kind gestures and the delicate lifting.

Rowena didn’t have to look to know who the balmy presence belonged to.   

She knew.

It was a messy bedroom that greeted her when she came to, with half-peeled wallpapers yellowing and wooden ceiling and foundations with chipped-off light-green paint.

When she maneuvered herself on the bed, there were springs in the mattress poking her back uncomfortably, not to mention the scratchy comforter above her.    

It might be the most unflattering situation Rowena had been, but the regularity was unmistakable. There was a quality of rightness—at the lack of better term—from the dusty smell of stacked books and the pile of clothes on a chair in the corner.

Rowena was finally out and in a place that felt safe.

Or at least, what she kept telling herself, rubbing on her arms barren of any scar from the misery she underwent, and murmuring repeatedly that she was fine, that the phantom pains would pass and she would be right as rain again.

Rowena slumped down against the side of the bed and let out a choked sob.

A quiet swish of air came and so was Gabriel who pulled her up and guided her back to the bed protectively. He never promised that it would be alright because he understood firsthand that it wouldn’t be the same after that kind of trauma no matter how short the experience.      

Gabriel held her close until her cries died down to hiccups, ruining his shirt with her tears and snot. Not that he cared, carding his fingers through her hair and wrapping the itchy comforter around them both.

Against her better judgment, Rowena fell into a dreamless sleep.

Gabriel was always silent whenever he stayed with her, and Rowena allowed the silence to settle over them like a newfound routine, along with him holding her to sleep until waking up the following day.

He didn’t prod when Rowena refused to eat, and she supposed he had something to do with her lack of the pang of hunger. Rowena took her time to think of eating food without fighting down bile.

For an entity who couldn’t possibly stay long-term in one location, Gabriel was patient with her, surprising her even with a book at hand when she was woken up once in the middle of the night by thirst. Since then, she would found him occupied with trinkets in between her waking moments; sometimes Gabriel was playing with a Rubik’s Cube, though often he was playing a low tune on small wind instruments like a kazoo and harmonica.

By the estimation of the slow drag s of daylights and evenings, Rowena guessed that it has been already a week.

“Where are we?” was the first thing she asked since the rescue. Her throat was dry, her voice raspy from being unused.

Gabriel snapped her a glass of water, eager to answer. “Bobby Singer’s house. It’s the most warded aside from Stanford, courtesy of Dean-o and Roberto, and, well, the uni became a known location to the demons.”

“What happened, Gabriel?”

Gabriel recounted from the night she was with Dean. Azazel had attacked the motel they were at, with an intent to capture her and Dean both. Dean had narrowly avoided becoming a bargaining chip to lure John Winchester after Gabriel arrived at the motel in the nick of time, but not soon enough to get her from Azazel who had hidden her from angels and demons alike, with only he and Alastair aware of the location they were keeping her. He told her of bringing Sam and Jessica to the Singer’s Salvage Yard after Lilith let loose a horde of demons after them in order to capture Sam and to kill Jessica in front of him. Gabriel told Rowena how she steadfastly didn’t break under Alastair’s hands, and that when he finally heard her call, Azazel and Lilith’s combined force bunked topside was unprepared for the assault of an archangel with two seasoned hunters—Dean and Bobby armed with the appropriate weapons.

“Your son had been helpful,” Gabriel said.

Rowena perked up at the mention of Fergus.

“Crafty, that one. He kept Lilith from escaping before I could get to her,” Gabriel told her with a wicked grin. “He got a few tricks from you, I noticed.”

When what felt like pride came over her, Rowena gave a little smile. Maybe it wasn’t too late for her and Fergus.

Gabriel continued, telling of a short trip to an alternate universe where the Winchester brothers existed as actors with different names and whose roles were Sam and Dean Winchesters in a show called Supernatural. Gabriel was particularly impressed at the very minute existence of magic in that world, making it the most ideal place to trap Lilith in their deepest ocean trench. Meanwhile, Rowena was just fairly impressed that somebody deigned to think of adapting Chuck’s awful books into a show.

Rowena started taking in food by afternoon, starting with a croissant that came directly from Paris. She wasn’t a fan of sweets, and Gabriel showered her with plenty, but the sugary and milky taste was a welcoming change in her bland pallet. The strawberries dipped in chocolate syrup were a blessing.

The hours moved faster that day compared to the days Rowena spent in the bed recently. By evening, Dean knocked to check on her.

“Huh. So that’s what you look like without the heavy make-up,” Dean said gruffly in greeting.

“Yes, because seeing my face bare is as bad as seeing me naked,” Rowena said flatly. “Not that I care with the latter.”

Dean huffed out a chuckle. “Damn it, I thought Gabe was lying when he said he has the best bedside manner.”

“Well, it’s not like that’s his only use…”

“Oh, c’mon. TMI.”

Rowena didn’t suppress the smirk. It was entertaining to make fun of Dean. “There’s strawberries involved if you’re curious to know.”

“I’m not!” Dean’s expression went aghast when his gaze landed on the bedsheets. “Bobby’s gonna kill me. Then he’ll kill you and Gabe. Just saying.”

“Noted, dear. By the time he finds out, we’re already gone and Robert will get nice silk sheets and a new mattress. He’s in badly need of one.”

“I’m telling you, he’ll appreciate those less than a simple ‘thank you’,” Dean said dryly. He observed her briefly before taking on a more somber note. “How are you doing, Rowena?”

“I’ve been better,” she said as nonchalantly as possible. Dean wasn’t deceived by it, looking sympathetic without saying anything else. Rowena was drained to bother wiping the look from his face. “Is that concern I see?”

Dean seemingly caught himself, glancing away. “Kinda.” He tilted his head to the side, adding, “Alastair got what he deserved.”

“I know,” she said, though Gabriel didn’t mention personally smiting Alastair. ”And you? How are you feeling, Dean?”

“Fine. Like always.” Dean seemed like he wanted to believe that. “I mean, I’ve had better days.”

“I never asked, but have you tried reaching Castiel?”

Dean seemed perplexed at the abrupt change of subject. “What for? As far as I know, Gabe’s the only angel who got back with us.”

“How do you know? Maybe he’s like you, the same way you purposely don’t involve yourself with Sam despite knowing what you know.”

“Assuming that’s true, there’s still the technicalities between Heaven and down here.”

She snorted. “That never stopped you before.”

Dean was miffed at the topic, and something told Rowena that he thought of the same thing before but kept making excuses otherwise. “Yeah, but judging from Sam’s reaction when I told him, it’ll probably take Cas centuries for that to sink in.” At Rowena’s astonishment, Dean smirked. “I told Sam yesterday.”

“Oh.”

“He doesn’t like that I put it off this long, but he’s glad that I told him. Better late than never, I guess.” Dean’s mouth twitched. “He asks a lot of things, and sometimes it’s a bit tricky to give him a straightforward answer, but what’s more difficult is when he looks at me and he tries not to see a stranger.” He shrugged, as casual as he could muster for the sake of appearance. “Could be worse, all things considered.”

Rowena decided that the last thing Dean needed was an assurance that they would be alright.

Rowena was startled to see Sam ambling outside the room not an hour later after Dean’s leave.

“Uh, hi, Ms. MacLeod,” Sam fumbled shyly in an adorable kind of way that Rowena would have teased the older Sam for. Instead, she was fairly stunned that Sam approached her first. “Can I come in?”

“Come in, Samuel.”

He was carrying a pot of tea, setting it down on the bedside like a peace offering. He stood there awkwardly as if waiting for permission to sit.

Rowena smiled and gestured at the foot of the bed. The mattress was beginning to grow on her if she must say so herself.

“It’s probably not a good time to ask, and it’s fine if you want to kick me out, but can I just—” He ran his hand through his hair.

“Ask away.” She took pity on the boy. “Dean told me that he told you.”

“Uh, yeah. He told me a lot. He also tells me about Prof. Shu—I mean, Gabriel, who’s an archangel.” Sam furrowed his brows at that. “And you. He said you’re a witch.”

“That I am.”

“And that you’re friends with us—well, Dean and the future me—after a rocky start.” Sam fiddled with his fingers like he didn’t know what to do with his hands. “It’s not that I’m against it, but thinking about getting involved with angels and demons alone… it’s insane. Time travel aside, it’s already insane.”

Rowena wondered how he would react to alternate words, but that was clearly a topic for another day. “You’re right; those are a lot to take in one sitting.” She sat back. “What do you want to ask me, Samuel?”

“Right. I’m—It’s not really a question, per se.” Sam shifted properly to face her. “Dean also mentioned to me about the supposed deaths. Jessica, first and foremost. I just want to say thank you for saving her, and by extension, me.”

“Och. It’s but a wee role in my part,” Rowena said, flattered, nonetheless. “I’m afraid Gabriel gets most of the credit with his creativity,” she admitted reluctantly, not that she would openly tell Gabriel that his idea of infiltrating Stanford was actually effective.

Sam shook his head. “We owe you just as much. Even Brady.” Sam glanced downwards. “I know I’m not the Sam that you know and grew close with, but I’m sure he’s proud of you.”

It should be strange that Sam referred to his older self as another person, and yet it wasn’t. Not really. At this point, Rowena no longer saw this young Sam becoming her Sam.

This Sam wouldn’t know of most hardships his other version experienced, and he would be happier and more liberated for it.

And seeing this untainted boy full of earnestness and optimism, Rowena thought that perhaps it was for the best.

They left the next day.

Of course, not without expressing their gratitude to their gracious host, Bobby Singer, who might have taken Gabriel’s leave as thanks of its own after the archangel-slash-trickster was said to have fooled around the salvage yard by changing it to different sceneries that Bobby didn’t particularly like.

While Rowena wasn’t a fan of the redneck appearance and Bobby didn’t appreciate her criticism on his mattress, she liked Bobby’s straightforwardness and literary knowledge. They formed a tentative association, with both lines kept open in case Bobby would be in need of advice on dealing with witchcraft.

“And I’m one pray away, Dean-o,” was Gabriel’s farewell to Dean.

Gabriel then popped them both back to their shared unit, and upon their arrival, Rowena was swept off her feet and was tucked to bed like a child. She huffed out an annoyed sigh, knowing she was bound for coddling by an angel, no less, though in the end the desire for a softer bed and familiar sheets eventually won her over.

These days, she just wanted to lie down and rest like an old person, which technically wasn’t wrong on normal circumstances.

Oh, well.

Gabriel jumped on the space next to her, sidling close with Rowena turning him to a makeshift pillow which was nice in a cozy way. Rowena wasn’t the cuddling type, though she supposed it was too late to assert that now after practically hogging Gabriel to herself in the past few days.

“We should take a vacation,” Gabriel suggested. “Niagara Falls is the perfect spot at this time of the year.”

Rowena could name at least three issues in taking a holiday dab smack in the middle of three waterfalls, but she humored him anyway. “Perfect for what exactly?”

“Skinny-dipping.”

She snorted. “Of course, dear. We’ll see in about a week.”

“Nah, no rush, Ro. Just putting the suggestion on the table. Take your time, Niagara could wait.”

Rowena lifted her head and setting her chin on his chest. Gabriel raised an eyebrow at her, and Rowena couldn’t resist taking his face in her hands tenderly. “What if it takes me years to fully recover?”

“Then I’m with you,” Gabriel said firmly. “It’s not time-wasting, Rowena, when it’s us walking together every step of the way to get better.”

Goodness, he could be romantic if he wanted to. “Thank you,” she said, leaning down to place a chaste kiss on his cheek.

“I should be saying that,” he said humbly, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. “But you’re welcome.”

Rowena was lulled by Gabriel stroking her arm and carding her hair, and it wasn’t long until her eyes became heavy and she fell in an unbroken sleep at a place she started calling home.

“Good night, Rowena,” Gabriel whispered.

For once, he joined her in her dreams.

fin  

…

English translation for the Latin exorcism incantation:

I beckon you, the person who owns this body. Hear me and follow my voice. Take control and expel who fouls your temple. 

#supernatural fanfiction #supernatural #rowena macleod #rowena #gabriel #gabriel x rowena #gabriwena #spn fanfiction #spn fanfic #destiel #sam winchester #jessica moore #dean winchester #time travel #fix it au #samwena #samwitch

[littlemisssquiggles]

If you watched fairy tail and/or my hero academia, do you have headcanons about Oscar acting like tamaki or hibiki towards his teammates/friends and Ruby?

‘Sup Mojo. I know about Fairy Tail but I’ve never watched it or followed the manga. I am a fan of My Hero Academia; the anime though. I don’t follow the manga unfortunately. In terms ofthe MHA anime, I’ve only seen 2/3 seasons that are out. Haven’t settled down towatch S3 as yet. I do recognize and know a wee bit about Tamaki though. I knowhe’s part of the Big 3, right? Again, haven’t watched S3 as yet so all I knowabout Tamaki is that he’s super shy and awkward with meeting new people.

Going off of that, I can see why you wouldthink Tamaki for Oscar. However I feel like Oscar was only super shy back in V5when he first met everyone for the first time. Back in V5, Oscar was shy andjumpy at times with everyone. However he’s become more comfortable aroundeveryone a lot better now and any shred of shyness he had before has softlydiminished. He can still be awkward at times especially when put on the spot.But beyond that, I think Oscar has slowly come out of his shell in terms of hisinteractions with his teammates/friends.

He isn’t completely out of his shell as yet but he’sgetting there. This is why I’m interested to see how Oscar will fit working on a huntsmen team. It’s why I’m such an advocate for a TeamJNPR Revival with Oscar taking Pyrhha’s originalspot.

Watching Oscar learn to fight as part of a huntsmen team would be a wonderful learning experience for him and Ihonestly believe that Oscar’splace is destined to be with JNR. I understand thatJNR are only the secondary support team for Team RWBY however I’ve always favoured their team rapport over RWBY’s since I feel likeJaune, Nora and Ren have a stronger, tighter, family dynamic when compared to RWBY.

I felt a much stronger bond between JNR thanRWBY mainly because, unlike RWBY, JNR know what it��s like to lose one of theirown. Team RWBY have only been separated from each other; divided by islands andoceans but I never had any doubt that RWBY wouldn’t be united.

JNPR however have lost one of their own. They’vehad to deal with the pain and grief of losing someone who was once an intricatemember of their little family. They’ve all had to come to terms with theacknowledgement that their lost comrade was never coming back. JNR has sufferedthat blow which is why I want to see them finally rise from it. As hinted inV6, I think it can be safe to say that JNR have all unanimously accepted Pyrhha’sdeath; especially Jaune as the leader, closest person to Pyrhha and the one whowas devastated by her loss the most. As of now, JNR is in a place to move onand start to rebuild their team from the ground up, starting with find themselves a fourthmember---someone who can make them feel whole again. A worthy successor toPyrrha.

This is why I’m liking the idea of part of V7’s storyfocusing on JNPR’sRevival. I have this small headcanon where as soon asthe group arrive in Atlas and reunite with General Ironwood, RWBY, JNR and Oscar are all enrolled temporarily atAtlas Academy to continue pursuing theirhuntsmen training while they are staying within the kingdom.

Atlas is a chance to see our young heroesbecome students again---exchangestudents for that matter technically since they’restudents from one academy training at another and experiencing the culture shock that comes with it.

What if…while training at Atlas, JNR israndomly assignment a fourth team member while Oscar is placed on another huntsmen team as theirfourth member. Let’s say, JNR’s assigned fourth member was someone who graduated at the top of theirclass at combat school and was considered the best student at AtlasAcademy---similar credentials as Pyrhha. However unlike Pyrhha, this fourthmember lacked the humility and compassion that made Pyrhha a great person outsideof just being a great huntress. This huntsman was arrogant and constantly triedto upstage and undermine, not just Jaune as the team leader but Ren and Nora as well. Basicallyimagine a pompous, self-proclaimed one man huntsmen team being pushed to workwith JNR. So naturally this person isn’t a good fit for JNR but they are forcedto work with them while they’re at Atlas.

One the other side of the spectrum, poorOscar is going through his own fair share of issues because his teammates arethree of the laziest people Oscar has ever had the misfortune of working with.And unfortunately for Oscar, he’s designated the leader of this team purely because none of his teammates wanted the positionand responsibility. So Oscar struggles to lead a huntsman team that refuse tolisten and work with him while dealing with his own shortcomings of not being astrong enough fighter. The good news is Oscar is technically the strongestfighter on his team. However the bad news is that that is purely due in part tohis teammates being too idle to fight. Picture Oscar being stuck with a bunch of snooty grunts who only became huntsmenfor the potential money rather than actually wanting to help people and onlygot into Atlas because of their family name or something to that extent.

So neither JNR nor Oscar are happy being with theirrespective teams assigned to them. But it is this experience that additionallymakes Oscar’s bond with JNR grow; particular with Jaune. One thing I’ve wantedto done for the Shovel knight FRIEND-ship is Jaunementoring Oscar or at least aiding to shapehim into a better huntsman like what Pyrhha did for him.

Picture…Jaune offering to coach Oscar on his potentialleadership skills. Picture…Oscar having private sessions with bothRuby and Jaune. While Ruby assisted Oscar in strengthening his combatskills, Jaune helped Oscar with her strategicalleadership skills.

We did get to see Jaune acknowledge Oscar’skeen eyes and tactical talent back with Cordovin. Perhaps this was a sign that Jaunemay help nurture that side of Oscar in the future. Jaune has always been asolid strategist. As a matter of fact, I’d like to think that it was histactical skills and ability to command others to execute those strategiesflawlessly was what impressed Ozpin enough to appoint Jaune as leader of JNPR.

Jaune is a strong tactician so I’d love to see Jaunementor Oscar on that, bringing out that side of him as well as the two bond andrealize they share good chemistry in that regard.

Imagine Jaune and Oscar growing so close astacticians that they’re able to read off of each other on thebattlefield---tell what move the other is going to make before they can evenvoice it. This is great because it can make Oscar a good second in command forJaune (when he joins JNR)---a role which Pyrhha used to fill.

Pyrhha was Jaune’sright hand---the person who helped him out the most. His secondin command who Jaune trusted and depended on. Noraand Ren are Jaune’slegs---the two people who are his pillars of support andkeep him grounded all the time. Till this day, Renora are still Jaune’s strong supportivepair but Jaune is still missing his arm.

All the more reason why I think Oscar would be a good fit to become Jaune’s righthand man. Yes he may be younger and inexperienced.But so was Jaune when he first became leader. Pyrhha was there to help bringout Jaune’s greatness and I’d imagine that if Oscar joins JNR, Jaune will bethere to bring out Oscar’s greatness.

Words cannot fathom how much I want to see V7 focusing on building upon JNR’s interactionswith Oscar. Even if we don’t get my hunch about JNR andOscar being slapped with different people before realizing they are a perfectfit together coming to fruition, at least have V7 give us more moments of Oscarjust bonding with JNR more---especially Jaune all culminating with him working togetherwith them on the battlefield and finally solidifying that he was their missingpiece all along.

I want V7to be about Oscar proving to JNR that he is the one destined to resurrect theirteam--ironic since he’s the incarnation of an immortal soul. I don’t want anothercharacter to tell JNR that they should take Oscar in. I don’t want another cheap shot like Rubybeing the arrow that had to spell out for JNR why they should let Oscar jointhem.

No! I want JNR to each and all acknowledge Oscar oftheir own accord and make that realization for themselves. No outsideinfluence. Just these three coming to see that this young farm boy is the onethey need to make them complete again.

That’s what I want for JNPR’s side of the storyfor V7. As usual, this is just myperspective. Nonetheless I hope it comes true to someextent.

Oh! As for RoseGarden in terms of Oscar’s interactions with Ruby, similar to JNR, I expect V7 to focus on building the friendship side of Oscar’s ties to Ruby. We know Oscar cares a lot for Ruby but I don’t think he realizes his crush on Ruby yet. I feel like Oscar’s crush will be a factor that won’t come into play until like a another volume or so. Like maybe V8. If the Schnee Family Affairs and the Crimes of the SDC subplot is stretched for 2 volumes then I can see Oscar’s feelings for Ruby not coming into play until like V8 or so. Especially not until he joins JNR so that he can someone like Nora spell it out for him and help him to realize it for himself. Buuuuut....again, this is just me XD

~LittleMissSquiggles(2019)

#squiggles answers: rwby #oscar pine #jaune arc #ruby rose #team jnr #team jnpr #rwby rosegarden #rwby theories #rwby V7 theories #mojo72400

[whifferdills]

HERE WE GO, THE LONG WAY AROUND: DW Xmas special 2017 les go

we saw the Hartnell-->Bradley effect as a teaser p early on, but, janky as it is, it really does work. and it's a giant This Ish Gonna Get Meta signpost, which i enjoy

River's Booze Cube in the TARDIS coming back i'm

right that's a straight line from "Deep Breath" to here. 'you're gonna want a drink, dude'

One, here, aside from what we're gonna go over in a later bulletpoint, feels like - more EU inspired, than anything? they feel like Shitty Nervous Baby Asshole Theta, faced with finally having to commit to stepping out into the world. i've never been super into One Doctor Era in terms of like. being really into it, and i do have a variety of EU-based Shitty Nervous Baby Asshole Theta headcanons, so i like this. ymmv

fuck do i love two or more Drs in a room being jerks to/ begrudgingly admiring each other. this shitbird

the guitar being the only dusted thing. gross college-student 'sniffing to see if the hoodie passes the smell test' 12 headcanon confirmed

THE FLOOF MULLET

sorrynotsorry PCap continutes to be weirdly hot throughout this episode

'shitty baby Thete made the first sonic at the academy' headcanon UNCONFIRMED. unless One's jus playing it cool, like, that dumb thing? hah hah never heard of it

god i do not understand this plot at all but it's Moff in full fuck-off mode so. les go

i love League of Gentlemen but have never really enjoyed, like actively liked, Mark Gatiss' contributions to DW. but i like him here a lot. it's a heartfelt, understated performance and kinda anchors the melodrama of the Dr(s). if he coulda poured that out previous a lot of episodes of New Who would be better

"what do you mean, world war one" fuck what a line

right i get why people might be pissed off at One Dr being obviously a dated piece of shit here, but questions of canon aside: DW has been total fuckin shit, like a lot, it's fucked up bad and frequently (and recently) and i'm entirely ok treating this as a meta critique

fuck this building is the same one from Missy's "imagine the Dr" speech. what does she know

i know Moff loves his doubles/copies/etc but did he need put that on Bill cmon that is hinky af

tho seriously i love these two nerds and i need more 12 & Bill in my life

"long story short: i totally pulled" i'm

wouldnt all these Bill n 12 scenes been better if Moff hadn't needed to do the whole pLoT tWiSt ThEy'Re A cOpY thing. i do love Moff. but. why. why this, here now

Gold went fairly old-school Spooky Synths before returning to his Classic Themes later and like. i'm more of a fan of his work now, than i have been before, but i'm okay with him being replaced with someone more inclined to do something other than what we've been hearing since Eccleston.

the fuckin sunglasses. this dweeb

like i do honestly love moff's sort of, short form spec fic, bizarro, 'hold your hat it's about to get wild' style. outside of mainstream SF i do prefer stories that don't explain, that don't world build, that just throw some bullshit at you and expect you to understand the emotional resonance. and i do love this story as a character piece, as a sort of...ambient? intentionally-confusing thing. but i also think it bit off more than it could chew, and it fucked w/ tropes in a way that kind of highlighted why you can't just apply any trope to any character, specifically any minority character, and have it come off how you want

like this episode reminded me what i'll miss abt Moff and what i...won't

Pearl tho fuck i have missed her. and Bill. Big Finish, please, please do me a solid. Bill Potts, tell me what to do

"will you put that buzzing toy away" THIS doof

'the Doctor of War'/'to be fair, they've cut out all the jokes'. i'm. One's face, and how it gets subverted later on

the whole window-size thing

NEW VORTEX SO FRESH N SO CLEAN

fuck tho 12's increasing levels of anger and shame at what they'd been before leads up SO well into the eventual Whittaker

facehuggers what

seriously what the fuck is this plot like i get the plot isn't the point but i do not understand what's happening with Testimony thing like

im drunk so uhhh

~fear makes Drs of us all~

this story would have worked so much better minus the Twist abt the shapeshifting whatevers. Bill's already a space goo, why. why add more things, when the dynamic between 12 n Bill is already so complex

the dr's weaponized self-destruction has always been such a Thing but how offhand 12 is about it, like. fuck dudes. #relatable

RUSTY. all the birds come home to roost

i'll probably come back to this later but DANG the camera and editing and coloring in this are N I C E

"Dunno why Good wins over Evil so i did a Le Both Sides survey" One u r fuckin lyyyyyiiiiiiing don't let Space Reddit lead you astray

oh god this is "Hell Bent" this is Clara on Trap Street this is

"The real world is not a fairy tale" was THE moment i knew Clara was gonna make an appearance

"I don't really know what to do when this isn't an evil plan" both lmao and. i love what this episode is trying to be. not an evil plan, just. circumstance. life. shit happens.

my kink is Dr Who taking responsibility for their shitty short sighted actions

FUCK HE WAS A LETHBRIDGE-STEWART YOUSE WERE RIGHT

please feel free to shake up your headcanons accordingly

the christmas armistice, ok, i teared up. iirc PCap did a spoken word performance of a letter about that, i wonder if there's any direct connection there

"the rug was crap anyway" THIS IDIOT BOY

and dang will i eternally love PCap's physical, specific performance of this role. the absolute exhaustion mixed with fuck-it whimsy and a weird, uncomfortable intimacy, it fffffucks me up

12 pulling their collar up like. this small vulnerable dying boy. my whole heart

Bill repaying the Dr for the photos of her mother - and how, 'zactly, did she come across enough of a Clara to do this like i'm not saying Bill/Clara is canon but

OKAY THEY'VE GOT THEIR MEMORY BACK OF CLARA DELIVERED VIA A KISS OK OK OK

OK THIS IS OK IM OK EVERYTHING IS FINE

Twelvedole is also canon. Whom - the fuck - glass nipples?

please let this boy take a nap

oh it's. the TARDIS is 13's ~First face~. they're not doing this alone, they're doing it with their one true love. 'time to leave the battlefield' yeah

this silly old universe. basic stuff first:

ok yeah that "Heaven Sent" theme is good

mmmmlove the decision to have a lot of the regeneration be JWhit, interspersed with PCap's trademark eyebrows. it pings...something, in my brain, that struggles with gender

the ring no

tiny wee JWhit in 12's outfit so...joyous and fucked up, like they always are. looooove it

they're not gone, they're just someone else now. the cycle begins anew. aw, brilliant

this is such a small, sweet, sad story, which imo is why the basic Moff Bizarro doesn't fit. plot aside, i quite like this one. the fear of death faced and overcome; yourself and your ethos being more important than the shape you take; the importance of kindness, and the possibility - if you try very hard - of a fairy tale. good shit.

laugh hard, run fast, be kind. Doctor, i let you go

#dw spoilers #incoherent yelling

[firebunnylover]

Hannah Watches LOSH - Champions

AND WE RETURN ONCE AGAIN TO THE LOSH REVIEWS!

Thank you so much for waiting. Finals were a pain.

So the friend who hasn’t watched losh that i was hoping to get her reactions wasn’t able to watch the episode with me due to her schedule. I was able to stream it with @cyclone-rachel and @peskyshortcake though.

Champions

The episodes starts of with our cheery episode palette colors, indicating we have since moved on from the previous dark episode stretch we had.

We find the main characters are at a futuristic athletic event at a place called the Dodecathelon, I’m probably butchering the spelling, with Lightning Lad competing.

We’re asking the important questions.

Never change PG

And then we get the announcers talking about one of the competitors, which Lightning Lad immediately assumes is him.

HERE IT COMES

HERE IT COMES

Also a moment to appreciate PG’s face

MY FAVORITE TRASH BABY IN ALL EXISTENCE

MY SASSY PIECE OF TRASH

After the opening plays, the scene opens to Lightning Lad confronting Mekt.

WOW.

Mm. Obvious sibling rivalry.

SUCH SASS.

AND LOOK AT THE FACE HERE

BEAUTIFUL

Also our chat kept spiraling into insanity.

I love him too much

Also, give him credit for going at Lightning Lad’s biggest flaw - his pride. While pride is certainly important to have, it can also be dangerous to have too much. It’s what usually leads to his aggressive behavior towards others.

One other thing: interesting choice on making his outfit red/fire themed. Wonder why the staff went with that choice.

I LOVE HIM

As soon as he’s gone, Phantom Girl gives Lightning Lad reassurance he can win. First time we see her being the compassionate one.

I feel her.

And then we get her complaining about what she went through to get them seats.

AND WE FIND OUT WHO MOM IS. THE PRESIDENT

HO GEEZE. SO NOW WE KNOW HOW SHE’S PRIVILEGE.

I have to say that the people we see in the diplomatic skybox have nice designs.

And then we get one of the best moments

WHY WAS HE ON THE TABLE?!

PHANTOM GIRL’S FACE AND SUPERMAN’S FACE I LOVE THEM

And here she is.

And then she goes straight for her daughter.

Ho boy, nervous Supes? He can’t maintain eye contact, and keeps fumbling over his words.

She’s kinda fast to assume PG and Superman had a thing tho.

Well, it’s well spent budget at least. Disney could learn a few things.

Then we switch to the race.

Why tho???

YOU LITTLE SHIT

And then we get our first hint that something is up with the judge who looks away.

But why didn’t the other judges notice?

But despite Mekt trying to get the upper hand, Lightning Lad manages to get ahead again.

DEM LEGS

NO ONE CAN DENY IT

But Mekt denies the cheating attempt, saying the judges didn’t see anything. What a prick.

Cutting back to Superman and Phantom Girl, we see Clark is impressed by the current version of sport events. And then Winema comes in.

OH NO. 

TINYA I FEEL YOU.

When Superman states that they’re just friends, Phantom Girl uses the excuse to get snacks to leave, despite the place being catered.

Strained relationship much between mom and daughter.

When the two of them are discussing moms while checking out merchandise, Phantom Girl states “She doesn’t have a clue,” indicating poor communication between mom and daughter. And then Superman comments that his mom get’s busy as well but doesn’t miss much. So clearly, despite the uncertainty on how to handle his powers we saw in the first episode, Superman thought she was trying her best to.

But then it turns out Superman has a “trouble-is-happening” sense and sees something under the Skybox, which Phantom Girl recognizes to be a bomb.

When he goes to chuck it into space, it goes off, and we get some more wonderful faces. Unfortunately, I had to lower the quality of the first gif of the scene, but golly it’s so good to see.

Wow.

Clearly this episode devoted more time to the faces than other episodes.

And then they see Tharok disguised as a pinwheel vender, prompting Superman to give chase.

When they zip by a crowd, people ask who just went by. Put on the spot, Phantom Girl starts chanting “Lightning Lad”.

Which everyone starts to chant as well.

… I want to know how offended Lightning Lad was at this.

Despite catching up with Tharok, Superman loses him after getting sticky-pinwheels on his face.

Realizing that Emerald Empress is cloaking him, it immediately confirms all 5 of the Fatal Five are at the event. And this time, their target is the President. They’re aiming big.

Back with the actual sports event, we learn about flare surfing. Which is definitely a sport. A very dangerous one too, provided it takes place in a volcano.

With the main three of this episode, they are discussing how to treat the situation of the F5’s presence. Superman suggests the SP, but Phantom Girl said it’s a bad idea that will cause more panic. And then Lightning Lad states that there won’t be enough time to evacuate the huge number of people there.

When Lightning Lad says that they will stop the F5 by themselves, PG says he can’t quit after training all year for this event. Showing that she doesn’t want him to sacrifice his hard work. Superman tells the group they can all do their bit separately, keeping Lightning Lad in the competition.

And then Trash Baby interrupts, accusing Lightning Lad of getting help from his teammates, and tells him not to think of using the flight ring to cheat. Wow. Do you have any right to say that Mekt.

AND THE ADULT MIND IMMEDIATELY GETS ANOTHER IMAGE FOR THAT SHOT

First up for flare surfing is Tenzil Kem, simply called Kem in this episode, aka the future Matter-Eater Lad. And his performance is pretty impressive. Dude has some moves

PESKY!

(the chat soon dissolved in us discussing Pesky’s life choices)

Following him is Lightning Lad, who also does a very impressive performance… which Mekt proceeds to ruin.

Cat behavior.

Simply put. Lightning Lad gets deducted points because he lands on the contestant Mekt shoved.

But this next part, Superman spots Mano. Mano, why would you go as a painter? Everyone knows that painters don't show up on game days.

Then we get socially awkward Tinya. Gotta love social awkwardness.

Followed by badass Tinya, who finds Persuader disguised as a guard.

But in all seriousness, when the ship Persuader has blows up, HOW DOES NO ONE NOTICE?!

Superman doesn’t hit kids, he tackles them.

AND THEN GETS STEPPED ON BY THE KIDS AS THEY SHAPESHIFT INTO VALIDUS.

OOF. HE GONNA BE SORE. But who was he expecting if he wasn’t prepared for that to happen??

Returning to the competition, we see that the final event is start. Dashing across lava canyons. What is it with this event and heat in deadly environments?!

Again, asking important questions.

I have to ask another thing - how did the obstacle that hit Kem NOT severely injure him? I mean he’s definitely pissed.

Dem legs can jump though, given Mekt managed to evade a sand trap several feet wide.

Also, during the group watch, I kept trying to get the video to pause on this one frame… we wasted 5 minutes trying to get to it.

The scene.

The struggle.

And the frame i wanted to show.

I’m sorry but Mekt’s face just cracks me up whenever I see it.

I’ll leave this frame up to interpretation to you guys.

However, immediately after Lightning Lad save’s Mekt, he shoves his little brother’s face into the ground.

Big brother behavior? IDK I don’t have brothers.

Furthermore, he sets off another trap that causes a column over the lava to start collapsing.

Lightning Lad manages to get out of the boobytrap easily, while another contestant, Karl (I THINK THAT’S HIS NAME? IDK I WISH THIS SHOW HAD SUBTITLES), isn’t so lucky.

But then we see a major change in behavior in Lightning Lad.

He ditches his chance to win and saves him.

Let’s go over this a bit on why it’s important. This guy was an arrogant brat when we first meet him, and his pride is so big he has to be first (“DUDE! THAT’S MY SPOT!”). And this is the event he has trained a whole year for. But he’s grown during our 5 episodes.

And back to Mekt, he wins. And I’m sorry to say this but I’m happy a wee bit for him? I mean look how happy he looks crossing that line.

As for why I’m happy, I’ll discuss that later. Cuz it goes into the dynamic of the brothers.

YOU LITTLE ****

The episode jumps forwards to the ceremony, where Lightning Lad is sulking and is being comforted by PG and Supes. It’s pretty touching.

At first.

GARTH U SORE LOSER

PG then prompts Lightning Lad to go take his medal, leading him to stand next to Mekt.

And then Mekt pulls something out.

Oh no.

I love how he says that.

With no forcefield, F5 proceed to crash the ceremony.

Two questions: WHY IS THAT EYEBALL SO BIG?? WHY FOCUS ON JUST VALIDUS’S REVEAL??

As soon as the Fatal Five reveal themselves, Lighting Lad immediately says he knew the judge had it in for him.

REALLY?! THIS IS THE BEST TIME TO WHINE ABOUT THE JUDGE?!

I LOVE HOW THE ANNOUNCERS ARE THE ONES WHO LEAD UP TO THE COMMERCIAL BREAK THO

Post commercial break, F5 and the legionnaires start going at it, while Empress goes to capture the president.

EMPRESS THIS IS NOT A TIME TO FLIRT

OUCH. THAT FACE.

Phantom Girl is not happy of the idea of having an enemy for a second mom though, swooping in to get her mom out of the stage.

Whiles Superman is dealing with Validus, Mano, and Empress (plus the eye), we get another shot of Ranzz bros.

MEKT

And then the chat dissolves into more insanity. Thank’s Pesky.

LOOK AT WHAT PG PROCEEDS TO DO THEN WHEN SHE’S BACK.

SHE GRABS MANO, PHASES HIM THROUGH THE FLOOR, THEN USES HIS HAND TO MELT THAROK’S LEG. DAMN GURL

Empress catches Superman, so he tries to fry the eye like he did the first episode. But it doesn’t work, leaving Empress commenting that she wasn’t going to let him do that twice. Give her a gold star for learning.

When it looks like Superman is doomed to the eye, Jo Nah comes to the rescue, suckerpunching that eye into space, freezes Empress, who then gets kicked by PG

And then comes a bit that i know kills my dear friend @augment-techs inside

I’m sorry, but clearly PG was looking at the booty in the last bit.

Meanwhile, the broadcasters start to tell audience what’s happening, which I continue to find amusing. They even cut away from Lighting Lad’s possible demise to advertise snacks.

They just call Superman “This Fella in Blue”. I bet Brainy called in later and started to flood their office with complaints.

But seriously. HOW ARE PEOPLE SURVIVING VALIDUS LANDING ON THEM?! VALIDUS IS SENT FLYING AND THEN HE LANDS ON EMPRESS.

Who grunts miserably for Validus to get off.

The SP are getting ready to take the F5 away, and we see our lovable trash baby again.

OBSERVATIONS ARE MADE.

Nice jump.

And then we get what is a very interesting exchange.

Dat eyeliner tho. 

But I find the way he closes his eyes before laughing interesting. And in his reflection, when he does laugh, it doesn’t look as confident when he did earlier. Taking that those words left a bigger gash than expected?

Another time jump takes us to another, smaller, ceremony. And a bit of mom-daughter bonding.

And then that’s followed by Winema asking if Lightning Lad is single.

OH NO

OH GOD

MY FRIEND DIES MORE AGAIN AT THE WINK OUT OF DISGUST

She’s done. As this episode is.

So final thoughts on the episode overall.

I love it.

This had some of the best expressions, and animation, in the whole series.

We had gone through three episodes of darker plots to get some lighter plots again, which is what the main characters need/deserve right now after everything that has happened so far.

While Lightning Lad plays a huge part of the episode, so does Phantom Girl.

This is also the beginning of Lightning Lad’s growth in character. Which was needed, given he was a huge, egotistical jerk in the first episode. We see he’s willing to give up first place to save others, although he will still throw a tantrum later (the locker room). And his interactions with his brother was enjoyable to watch. He clearly is not on good terms, and it seems every interaction he does is bad. Except when he saves him from being blasted during the dash. So he still cares for him on some level. Just not a high enough level that he can have a good/positive interaction.

Phantom Girl has more character development as well. We finally know where the “privilege but misunderstood” expertise comes from. Her life as the President’s daughter. She clearly hates the political part of life, having enough of being in major spotlights of that kind. But she was still willing to do stuff to get her and Superman seats in the best spot. Plus we know that she enjoys to oogle guys, but gets annoyed when people assume she’s dating/interested in her teammates. And we get to see a bit of her softer side when she’s comforting Lightning Lad.

Although I guess she divulged off screen to Superman that her mom was the President though.

Speaking of Superman - HE FINALLY GETS A LIGHT PLOT EPISODE AFTER 3 DARK PLOT EPISODES THANK GOD. He needed this so bad. Although this episode is not Superman centric. But god, he was so funny when talking to the president.

As for the F5… once again, could have used more development. I think that eyeball can change it’s size tho. But we see Empress is clearly a good planner on these things, as she even predicted Superman using his heat vision on the eyeball again.

The other guest characters were interesting to see.

The reporters were fun to listen to. Also had cool designs.

It looks like most people in the 31st century have powers, given that some of the competitors ended up fighting against the F5. Most probably just don’t know how to use them effectively against criminals.

We get our first appearance of Matter-Eater Lad and Ultra Boy.

@augment-techs, I can hear you hurling at the mention of Ultra Boy.

Neither of them are really delved into character wise, although we do have Ultra Boy winking at PG at the end.

But when watching this episode, I noticed they were talking to each other in the background (around the part when the legion trio were discussing how to go about the F5 threat). Friends maybe?

A fair number of the background characters had pretty cool designs, but a problem with this show is how most characters the same age as the legionnaires, if humanoid, share the same body type, both guys and girls.

… And as far as I saw, there’s only one girl competing.

Sigh.

Winema is so good to see after Dr. Londo. She does care for her daughter, and tries to reach out to her. Would be the type of parent who offers a condom during sex rather than scold you. However, her ways of reaching out to her is not without flaws. First off the bat, politics. She couldn’t give her daughter a medal in the end mainly because of the political feedback. Who knows how much it affected other interactions beforehand?

And then we have her immediate assumptions that she is dating Superman, and that she’s interested in dating one of the other boys at the end. It’s uncomfortable when people assume you and someone the opposite are “more than just friends”.

Furthermore, watching this episode now that I think PG might be bi, it led to a new idea of the assumptions and how PG feels about them.

Simply put, her mom is offering only suggestions on guys. Not girls.

As a pansexual, let me say it’s annoying when people assume you are only into one gender. Even more so if they assume you are straight. And when that person is family, that’s opening another whole can of worms. Sometimes the people aren’t aware of how it’s a bad thing but can be simply told and they will get it, and then there’s the homophobic/biphobic/panphobic people.

I think Winema is probably the first of the two though. She’s the best parent on this show.

In any case though, going off on the idea that she might be bi, Phantom Girl hasn’t gone to tell her that she is interested in girls. Maybe she’s afraid how it will play out politically? Or if her mom takes it badly?

Questions, questions.

But let’s talk about my FAVORITE PART OF THIS WHOLE EPISODE.

Mekt Ranzz.

Oh my god, he’s like the fusion of Grunkle Stan and Victor Nikiforov. Willing to cheat, but clearly has athletic talents... and pretty looks.

Okay, the fact that I am able to compare him to Victor leaves enough leverage for me to justify me shiping him with Superman, who I compared to Yuuri in the first review. Everyone shush.

But as for character dissection, let’s bring something from the previous episode.

Lightning Lad’s room.

I managed to adjust the brightness/contrast in the original frame so that we can see it, unlike the way Fear Factory just made everything to dark to see.

YES I AM STILL BITTER ABOUT FEAR FACTORY BEING DARK AS ****

The shelfs has a lot of trophies. As in, filled with them.

And now recall what Mekt said after winning the dash, and then when Lightning Lad went to confront him.

“Nothing wrong with silver, little brother. You should be used to second place by now.”

“All I did was make a deal with the judge, so I’d come in first! For a change.”

Okay, those two statements seem to conflict with each other, but hear me out.

Lightning Lad was always, or usually, getting first place when they were younger in athletic events. And Mekt was probably never prided in any of his accomplishments. So when the Empress in disguise offers him that chance to get of first place, he jumps for it. Hence why he looks so friggin happy when he crosses the line.

As for the statement he makes after the race, I think he might have been making a jab at Lightning Lad with something said to him from their childhood.Or he was referring to the competition itself, given that he ruined his landing earlier (and possibly some other events we didn’t see.)

Either way, it was to rub more salt into Lightning Lad’s wounded pride.

He is capable of regret though. His expression seen when Empress addresses him when she grabs the President, and to me, the way he looked at himself in the medal and laughed. That laugh, and the expression he made, seemed less malicious than it did when I first watched the episode.

Let me make this clear really quick, I did not like Mekt when I first watched this. Everything he did seemed like a total prick move. This wasn’t the first episode I saw him in though. That was Lightning Storm. So my opinion of him was arguably ruined by that.

But in terms of stepping up to make things right, at this point in the show, he’s no where close. He runs away for crying out loud. Then again, no evidence if he has ever fought people like the F5 before.

But he did offer Lightning Lad his medal. The medal that he cheated to get. Really the most decent thing he does in the whole episode.

He clearly isn’t as angry towards Lightning Lad. Way less. Heck, he provokes him in a somewhat playful manner at times. Mekt seems more open to them having a positive relationship than Lightning Lad. Which says a lot on how he views their relationship in comparison to his brother.

Maybe my fondness of him, and actually knowing his background based on the comics, is getting in the way of me properly seeing how the staff wanted to portray him? Probably.

But I can’t deny that I love him… and making his life a nightmare.

Given Mekt ties into Lightning Lad’s backstory though, it makes more sense that Fear Factory was suppose to come out before Champions, as it was the opening act to us learning about it on this show.

Characters in this episode:

Superman gets the light-hearted plotline he deserves. Finally. In terms of development, not much happens with him though. But given that this episode wasn’t suppose to focus on him, we can let it go.

Phantom Girl gets so much more development than any other episode, and we get a better look at her personality than before, where she was a supporting character. Plus we get perhaps the best facial expressions in the show from her.

Again, I cannot stress this enough, this is a huge part on Lightning Lad’s character development. But it’s not the starting point of understanding his personality, because that was the previous episode, with his bedroom and his fears. Now I COULD delve into every bit right now. But I won’t. I will do it as the episodes go along.

And then the competitors: Matter Eater Lad/Kem was fun to see, even though not much of his personality was really explored. Zzok was endearing to see - nice to know the competitions weren’t humanoid exclusive. Ultra Boy/Jo Nah had a bit more personality than the others, given he interacted with PG - I HEAR YOU GROANING AUGMENT!! And the possibility that he and Kem are friends even before/during the competition is interesting.

Fatal Five. Again - not the most interesting villains, with Empress being the most intriguing of the 5 of them, but not enough to engage people as much as other villains.

Winema is the best parent in the 31st century on this show during the first season. Hands down. The remedy to seeing Dr. Londo’s abuse. A woman of power also. What’s not to love? Well, her assumptions on Tinya wanting to go out with only guys, particularly teammates. But hopefully she will correct that in the future.

And let me say this again, I LOVE MEKT. He’s such a trash baby, and a pretty one too. Can be one of the best villains on this show. Reason why I say can is, like Alexis, that title doesn’t seem right for him in this episode. As for the next episode we see him, he will fit that description of villain. Still curious on the staff’s choice for his outfit though.

#Hannah Watches LOSH #losh #legion of superheroes #mekt ranzz #lightning lad #phantom girl #winema wazzo #superman

[multiple-fandomimagines]

Darcy Lewis Masterlist *updated 7/20/18*

NONE OF THESE ARE MINE!!! I did NOT write any of these! I believe they are amazing fanfics, written by insanely talented people, and deserve to be shared. ALL CREDIT GOES TO THE AUTHORS!!!

Marvel Masterlist  Marvel Smut Masterlist 

Darcy x Steve

Dearly Beloved by Hollyspacey (Steve Rogers x Darcy Lewis) Darcy has 99 problems, and her first assignment for SHIELD is, like, 98 of them. As if going back home to deal with all of the people who made her childhood miserable wasn’t bad enough, she’s also stuck in holy matrimony with a surly supersoldier who can’t even deal with her under normal circumstances. 

Darcy x Bucky

Markings Made On My Skin by Gryffindancer (Bucky Barnes x Darcy Lewis)(Soulmate AU) All he ever remembered was the cold and the pain of being wiped. Her whole life she had never understood the welts that would appear on her skin for no reason, or the painful migraines that would come on without warning. The story of how they both found something to fight for.

Wee Little Stark [part one, part two] by orphan_account (Bucky Barnes x Darcy Lewis)(Parent Tony Stark) James Rhodes was confident in his ability to remain calm in high stress situations. Being best friends with Tony Stark will do that to a guy. What he is NOT prepared for is a toddler standing on the mansion's doorstep with a letter addressed to Tony. Rhodey, Tony, Happy, Pepper and JARVIS learn together to care for and love the little Darcy, and together they navigate rougher waters when it's made clear that the baby girl is even more special than they could have guessed.

The Avenger and the “Civilian” [part one, part two, part three, part four, part five, part six, part seven] by aForgottenWeasley (Uncle Clint Barton) (Bucky Barnes x Darcy Lewis) Clint Barton is not too happy to learn that his brother’s girlfriend is having a baby, and that his brother wants nothing to do with them. So wanting to do the right thing, Clint takes care of his soon to be niece’s/nephew’s mother only to have the mother abandon his niece at the hospital. He follows his niece around to get to know her in secret, loses touch when SHIELD recruits him, and then marvels at how Fate brings them back together.

If I Were the One [part one, part two, part three] by LaTessitrice (Darcy Lewis x Bucky Barnes)(Soulmate AU) Sometimes the universe has a cruel sense of humor. Darcy tends to be the butt of the joke.

To Live Without the Sun [part one, part two] by Rainne (Bucky Barnes x Darcy Lewis)(Soulmate Identifying Marks) Darcy Lewis is thirteen years old when she meets her soul mate. It turns out that he's a brainwashed assassin working for HYDRA. And it further turns out that HYDRA thinks it might be useful to have their assassin's soul mate on hand.

Coping [part one, part two] by Tori_Scribbles (Darcy Lewis & Protective Bucky Barnes) Kidnapped by Hydra. Saved by the Avengers. Darcy isn’t coping. 

I Want You To Want Me (And There’s Nothing I Wouldn’t Do) bythatblondefulloflight (Darcy Lewis x Bucky Barnes)(Father Figure Tony Stark)Bucky always wondered why Darcy never talked about her family, now he knows why.    

Loki x Darcy

Make Your Move by concavepatterns (Loki x Darcy Lewis) (Soulmate AU) Darcy always thought that soulmate bonds were a gigantic load of garbage, until fate drops an injured trickster God in her lap. Now they have seven days to decide whether this bond will make them or break them. 

T is for Trouble by morna(Loki x Darcy Lewis) She had gone to a rich artsy-fartsy high school. She needed someone sauve with class who could be both charming and a grade-A asshole in the same turn of phrase. Someone who wasn’t instantly recognizable. He had to be hot too. Abso-fucking-lutely smoking. Her fingers went still as a thought occurred to her. That really only left one person. Goddammit. Darcy goes to her high school reunion but not without dragging along a certain demigod to stir up some trouble.

Darcy x Clint

Secret Agent Soulmate by CatrinaSL and Stella_Malodi (Darcy Lewis x Clint Barton) (Soulmate AU) Clint and Darcy (probably) (eventually) fall in love after Clint (probably) pushes a bad guy out a window and Darcy (eventually) gets his number.

The Space Between Feathers by thegirlgrey (Darcy Lewis x Clint Barton) All Darcy wanted was 6 college credits and her iPod back.

Not What I Expected by RogueWitch (Darcy Lewis x Clint Barton) Darcy and Clint get snatched, things go a bit down hill from there.

The Avenger and the “Civilian” [part one, part two, part three, part four, part five, part six, part seven] by aForgottenWeasley (Uncle Clint Barton) (Bucky Barnes x Darcy Lewis) Clint Barton is not too happy to learn that his brother’s girlfriend is having a baby, and that his brother wants nothing to do with them. So wanting to do the right thing, Clint takes care of his soon to be niece’s/nephew’s mother only to have the mother abandon his niece at the hospital. He follows his niece around to get to know her in secret, loses touch when SHIELD recruits him, and then marvels at how Fate brings them back together.

Darcy x Logan

Darcy Gets Adopted by InkStainedHands1177 (Darcy Lewis x Big Brother Logan)

I Should Ink My Skin With Your Name by Griffindancer (Logan x Darcy Lewis) (Soulmate-Identifying Mark) Darcy knew she’d find her soulmate someday. She just didn’t expect him to look like the Brawny paper towel guy with muttonchops.

Hey Neighbor by Lady_Layla (Logan x Darcy Lewis) Prompt: “No time to explain, but could you pretend to be my S.O when my ex arrives?”

Darcy x Remy LeBeau

The Princess and The White Devil by G_the_G (pre-Darcy Lewis x Remy LeBeau) Itty bitty Darcy can’t sleep when she’s at her father’s mansion. A secret trip to the kitchen brings a new friend into her life.

Down In New Orleans by G_the_G  (Darcy Lewis x Remy LeBeau) The question of whether a person’s life reflected their soulmark, or vice versa, had been a recurring one for Darcy Lewis. She just didn’t expect it to suddenly come into focus on a trip down to New Orleans. When trying to do a favor for Jane, she finds herself some trouble, a Cajun charmer of a soulmate, and just possibly, the beginning of a new adventure. Too bad she’s always been too stubborn to just go along with things. But her soulmate’s willing to convince her he’s worth it.

Have I Told You Lately That I Love You? (No, Because You’re a Pair of Idiots) by JadelynTate (Clint Barton x Darcy Lewis x Bucky Barnes) Darcy has been claimed across the Nine Realms as the future King of Asgard’s little sister. This has come with some unexpected and unwanted side effects…

Darcy x Steve x Bucky

My Name On Your Skin byI_Mushi (Bucky Barnes x Darcy Lewis x Steve Rogers)(Soulmate AU) There were two names down Darcy’s back; unclear scribbles that were supposed to sharpen into clarity when her soulmates were born. When Jane hit Thor with the truck and solved the mystery of Jane’s runes, Darcy wouldn’t admit it, even under extreme amounts of tequila, but that made her hope. And Tony is a meddlesome meddler who meddles.

Upon A Hill, Across A Blue Lake by I_Mushi (Bucky Barnes x Darcy Lewis x Steve Rogers)(Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics)  Darcy has a few run-ins with the police and a couple Alpha Avengers show up to help. She /really/ should have specified to Jane not to send her crushes when she called for help.

Everything She Didn’t Know She Wanted by bluecurls (Steve x Darcy x Bucky) Knowing she had two soulmates comforted Darcy Lewis during the toughest moments of her life. Then she met them.

Ice and Fire [part one, part two, part three, part four, part five, part six, part seven, part eight, part nine, part ten, part eleven, part twelve] by SteeleHoltingOn (Bucky Barnes x Darcy Lewis x Steve Rogers) Girl Meets Boy; Boy Meets Girl. They fall in love. Then it gets complicated. Darcy Lewis is Tony Stark’s daughter. This is a story about family, the Stark Legacy, Darcy and Steve falling in love, and bringing Bucky Barnes home. Loving one person isn’t easy. Loving two? Much harder.

Darcy & Tony

My Heart Unfolding by mudpuddledemon (Darcy Lewis & Tony Stark) "Lewis. You're in my lab. Why are you in my lab when I'm not in my lab?" He could see her in the corner, behind the shelves of spare parts. It was a weird place to be. She was crying.-Darcy falls apart, and Tony helps collect the pieces.

I Want You To Want Me (And There’s Nothing I Wouldn’t Do) bythatblondefulloflight (Darcy Lewis x Bucky Barnes)(Father Figure Tony Stark) Bucky always wondered why Darcy never talked about her family, now he knows why.

Wee Little Stark [part one, part two] by orphan_account (Bucky Barnes x Darcy Lewis)(Parent Tony Stark) James Rhodes was confident in his ability to remain calm in high stress situations. Being best friends with Tony Stark will do that to a guy. What he is NOT prepared for is a toddler standing on the mansion’s doorstep with a letter addressed to Tony. Rhodey, Tony, Happy, Pepper and JARVIS learn together to care for and love the little Darcy, and together they navigate rougher waters when it’s made clear that the baby girl is even more special than they could have guessed.

Me, Too by Kali588 (Badass Marvel Women)(Darcy Lewis & Pepper Potts)(Darcy is Tony Stark’s Daughter) The women of/around The Avengers find out about the #MeToo campaign and respond. ***Please note that there is nothing graphic, with no details about what was specifically experienced by the characters, but the Archive Warning is used out of consideration for possible triggering material.***

Darcy & Avengers Team

Avengers Means Family (a cautionary tale) by moontyrant (Darcy Lewis x Avengers) (Big Brother Thor) Darcy’s cheating (ex)boyfriend won’t give her stuff back after she leaves him, and it’s up to the Avengers to make it right.

Darcy is Done! by Caiti (Darcy Lewis x Avengers) Darcy is the all-around gofer for these people, and she’s sick and tired of not getting thanked. She is going on strike.

Coping [part one, part two] by Tori_Scribbles (Darcy Lewis & Protective Bucky Barnes) Kidnapped by Hydra. Saved by the Avengers. Darcy isn’t coping. 

#marvel #archive of our own #darcy lewis #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction #darcy lewis fanfic #darcy lewis fanfiction #masterlist #darcy lewis masterlist #marvel masterlist #ao3 masterlist #darcy lewis imagine #darcy lewis oneshot

[milkmakeup-blog]

Milk Makeup’s Georgie Greville Takes U Backstage @ NYFW

Yesterday was a big day for Milk Makeup. Not only did we help craft the beauty look at Mara Hoffman’s Fall 2017 show (more on that later), our fearless leader and co-founder Georgie Greville also co-directed the show. (!!!) In case you missed it, Mara’s performance-filled presentation was a potent message on women’s empowerment, unity, and equality; featuring opening remarks by the national co-chairs of the Women’s March on Washington, choreography by Beth Gill, and a whole lotta looks we can’t wait six months to wear. In the spirit of Mara’s show — dedicated “to the women who are constantly creating in the name of change” — we wanted to spotlight Georgie, who does just that every day.

Amazing job, Georgie. Tell us, how did this collaboration come about?

Mara and I have been wanting to collaborate for years — we’re really close friends and our sons hang out together. Actually we were supposed to do a show with her last season straight after launching the company, but we didn’t have the bandwidth. We know that our brands are trying to do the same things in terms of being inclusive, giving the individual power, and making functional products that are chic and made responsibly. She just completely revamped her company – she calls it her McConaughey moment — she revamped her manufacturing to be more sustainable and this collection was just so refreshing and streamlined. It’s grown up and evolved so much. Everything felt like it was confident, confident fashion. I think there are so many parallels with her brand and us in our pigments and how casual everything is. I think it’s really tapping into this feminist/humanist sensibility of ease and confidence coming together to make you more powerful as an individual.

The show featured both dancers and models, where did that idea come from?

Mara used to be a dancer herself, so she’s always wanted to express that side of her in a way that’s true to who she is now — this quirky, complex, strong woman with many different sides. We decided I would co-direct the show and I brought in my friend Beth Gill to choreograph. I’m such a huge fan of her work. She is a fine art choreographer, but I knew in this sort of pop space she would give it an elegant element. Beth got onboard and the rest was just us working together and figuring out what we wanted to say and how did we speak to every woman? The confident, the powerful, the sultry, the emotional, the heartbroken, the student, the teacher, the mother, the daughter. And then Mara is such a funny person, she would jump in and ask, like, who’s going to play the Pee Wee Herman role?

What does it mean to co-direct a show?

It’s really setting up the elements with the designer, setting the tone, and finding the music. To be honest, with this particular show, a more appropriate title might have been co-producer. Directing for me is more about controlling the action and that was really Beth’s world in this project. I feel like I co-produced more than anything and really just collaborated with Mara and Beth constantly on the flow, music, and casting, some of which came from our past Milk Makeup castings. This was the first time Mara had ever used a trans model and with everything going on, she was moved even farther to have the most diverse casting she’s ever had.

The music was a big part of the show as well. How did that process work?

The music went through many different iterations. It was just really hard to get the right tone that didn’t feel too pretentious, too shouty, or too somber. We really just kept coming back to the fact that Mara is such a joyful person and thought, how do we get this to be super powerful, but also represent women in a badass, joyful way? We started with Laurie Anderson as a big muse and then there were all these folk singers… Nina Simone, of course, came up, and Mara and her music collaborator Ben came up with a Yoko Ono piece. It was a huge collaboration and a lot of going back and forth to make sure all the tones of women were represented. We wanted to send the message that it’s powerful to feel beautiful — that it isa power; it’s not anything to feel bad about. They used a sample of Nina Simone singing “beautiful” over and over at one point in the show. All the models were so diverse and it worked so well because you saw them and the dancing at the same time. It was just hammering home the fact that we are dynamic and amazing and that women aren’t one thing ever. That’s what I loved so much about it, especially in this time when we’re pigeonholed as weaker creatures for some reason and that’s not true.

What were some of your favorite moments?

There are two really interesting moments that stand out for me. One dancer, Heather, whose character was unapologetic female sensuality basically, was gyrating and doing body rolls. She was so unhinged, and yet completely in control of her body at the same time. It was such a powerful moment. Another girl came out and ended up holding up an imaginary protest sign — that moment was such genius choreography on Beth’s part. Everyone in that room knew what it meant.

How did you interpret all of this into the makeup look?

It was all about the individual and how to keep the integrity of each and every girl in the show. Mara knew from the start she wanted to work with everyone’s natural hair texture, maybe add a little extra in, but in general stay true to everyone’s natural attributes and give them power. For us, that meant glowing skin with the Blur Stick and Sunshine Skin Tint on everyone. On one look, it was about using Shadow Quad and Matte Bronzer around the eyes to give it that ‘90s kind of intensity without mascara. We also did some brown lips and some a deep maroon — there was something about the lip that was very powerful. When you see it in the lineup you think, this is a woman who’s in control, she looks good but it’s on her own terms and it’s functional. You looked at them and you saw confidence. One takeaway for me was, wow how powerful are these looks and nobody’s wearing mascara.

When you reflect on the show now, what thoughts pop into your head?

I wish we had gotten more into who all these people were in the show. The models were super interesting people too. It was super humbling for me to be in Mara’s world because she is just so enigmatic. She’s such a leader — she’s a lioness goddess of a leader. She’s really calm she’s really in control, she’s really fucking good at what she does.

Photos by Riley Carithers for Milk Makeup.

#nyfw #milkmakeup #marahoffman

[mrmichaelchadler]

Starz's Outlander is as Immersive and Irresistible as Ever in Fourth Season

Money in your pocket. A morning of clear skies. A vast, untamed landscape, or years and years ahead. Few things are as intoxicating as a sense of endless possibility, and it’s that sense, above all others, that defines the fourth season of “Outlander.” But there’s a downside to any landscape in which anything is possible. Good things can happen, sure, but trouble can creep in, too. That’s true in life. It’s true in marriage. And it’s true in the creation of television shows. Intoxication can feel wonderful, but it can impair your judgment, too.

If that sounds vaguely ominous, it’s not meant to. Not really. There’s still plenty to recommend in the fourth go-round of the popular Starz epic, including but not limited to its predictably lush cinematography, uniformly excellent costuming and production design, and performances that range from solid to remarkable. There’s also a hell of a good yarn to be spun—the Diana Gabaldon books from which the series is adapted just placed second in “The Great American Read,” between “To Kill A Mockingbird” and the “Harry Potter” books—and the fact that, for the most part, the people telling the story do so with enjoyable panache. But some of the stumbles from the show’s mixed-bag of a third season reoccur here, and the occasional new misstep threatens to diminish the show’s other pleasures. Still, when the show focuses in on its central pairing and those most connected to their lives, it’s as immersive and irresistible as ever.

At the end of season three, we left Claire (Caitriona Balfe) and Jamie (Sam Heughan) Fraser—he, a Scottish Highlander of the 18th century, she, a time-traveling British battlefield nurse-turned-surgeon who served in the Second World War—she’d once again returned from the future, leaving a daughter in the late 1960s to find the man she loved. On arriving back in the past, the pair end up chasing some kidnapping jewel-thief pirates (it’s a long story) all the way to the New World. After some murder, witchcraft, political maneuvering, several big storms, and a lot of time on boats, they land in Georgia—without a dime, but free to be themselves and together for the first time in many years. As season four begins, that’s still true, but as is always the case with this couple, there’s chaos with which to contend. 

A lot of that chaos centers on death and trauma. Of the six episodes released to critics, there’s not much that can be said—nearly all the plot developments are embargoed, as is much concerning both new and returning characters—but to say that there’s a sense of darkness that belies the gorgeous, sunkissed photography is an understatement. At its best, that darkness stems from three seasons and two-plus decades worth of history. A standout scene between Jamie and his nephew Ian (John Bell) addresses the way that trauma—in this case, the trauma that can spring from sexual assault—sometimes lingers for months, years, or even decades; that it takes place in a graveyard beside an empty coffin in the middle of the night should make clear both the tone and the show’s occasional reluctance to chill. That’s one instance among many in which the through-line of grief, loss, and cruelty succeeds. 

There are others that aren’t as successful. In the third season, the arrival of the Frasers in the West Indies led (as is the case with the books) to the show’s grappling with slavery. The results weren’t promising. Season four fares at least somewhat better, as the arrival of the Frasers as relative Jocasta Cameron’s (Maria Doyle Kennedy) plantation forces them to confront the harm even the best of intentions can inflict when those acting don’t ask those they’re attempting to help what they actually need. But when the Frasers head into the wilderness, their interactions with the Cherokee population range from much more thoughtful to frustratingly heavy-handed and even silly. The events themselves could be successfully told, both those taken directly from the books and those that are an invention of the show, but a tendency to always add one more layer, one more scare, one more piece of meaningful slow-motion or drum-laced music cue sometimes threatens to drag the series down. Heavy-handedness can be forgiven, but not endlessly so.

Thankfully, there’s plenty about this season that’s neither too hot, nor too cold, but just right. First and foremost among these strengths: a cast that grows stronger by the year, anchored by a thoughtful, often thrilling performance from Caitriona Balfe. With Claire firmly planted in one time period, Balfe gets the chance to play more of the little, everyday stuff that defines a life, and as good as she is when the world seems to be coming apart at the seams, she’s even better when Claire has goats to feed, patients to tend, and a husband to quietly (or not so quietly) cherish. Balfe has always been terrific, while Heughan has improved year after year, here seeming more relaxed and at home playing a frankly unrealistically magnificent man whose years of suffering have not hardened him to the beauties and pleasures of life. Kennedy and Bell both give engrossing performances, the former especially so, while Ed Speleers of “Downton Abbey” takes a role that might have swallowed a lesser actor alive and turns in something vicious, putrid, and disturbingly forceful.

To cap it all, two of the series’ most reliable players return near the end of the season’s first half. These two actors inhabit their characters with easy confidence and honestly,  and their arrivals, one on the heels of the other, seem to trigger a major shift in quality, elevating what the good to something remarkable and whole. The arrival of the first is easily the season’s most electrifying moment, and of all the threads not named Claire or Jamie the show weaves together, his is the one I’m most interested to tug.

Characters old and new alike have a bit more of a struggle than they have in seasons past, thanks to the occasional piece of creaky dialogue—I actually said aloud, “Please don’t say it,” in the long pause before one of the show’s best actors delivered a line that was telegraphed from miles away—and the aforementioned tendency of the show to do just a bit more than is necessary. (We see the same magnificent view over, and over, and over again, and never without a remark on how powerful the sight alone is to all who behold it.) And there’s no particularly graceful way to say this, but the series also suddenly feels much more chaste—not a small thing for a series that was, for some time, the sexiest thing on television. It’s not as though these characters aren’t having sex, but it certainly seems as though “Outlander” is suddenly a lot less interested in the intimacy and dynamics of those sequences than it was in previous years. Put another way: Not every show needs loads of doin’ it, but “Outlander” was best in class, and now that’s gone. What happened?

That’s a lot of negative up there, I know. But when you love something, acknowledging its flaws is important. That’s true in the relationship on which this show centers, and it’s true of the show itself. At its best, “Outlander” tells the story of a marriage and its ups and downs as well as anything else on television. It’s sexy and smart, frustrating and thrilling in equal measure. At its worst, it’s still a series with an incredible cast and a world so richly drawn it feels as though you could just wander right in. What are a few stumbles compared to that kind of promise? Grab some knitwear and a wee dram, forgive the missteps if you can, and allow all that possibility to unfold.

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[peleth]

hmmmm alright im gonna try and give my opinions on tlj, i’m very tired tho and sore because i had the front row corner seat in a huge theater and everything looked skewed but hey, at least i managed to snag a seat instead of waiting two weeks to see it

first of all, whose god awful idea was it to not have jj abrams direct the last jedi? no matter how much the dude sucks irl i’m...ya messed up buddy. ya really did it this time

thoughts, kylo thoughts, bc lets be real i’m a kylo bitch forever, however much i may regret it rn

ugh ok my htoughts are really fucking jumpy rn this is gonna be a messy post. i’m....disappointed. with kylo’s end actions, BUT i’m hoping jj abrams will save it. gather up the pieces and glue them back together

i’m not necessarily a fan of full redemption. that’s not an option anymore, it could have been, but then what would the third movie be lol. it would be stupid to think kylo would have been turned like that, so easily, like “oh woops spent the last decade being a bitch but now that this hot girl is here i regret it all, time to go back to mommy”

i don’t think jj abrams (and im saying this to reassure myself lol) will treat kylo as some laughable villain to be defeated. there is a balance between rey and kylo, and it’s not gone. i’m a fan of the “they both go grey” theory, but idk with what rian johnson did it seemed to imply the jedi weren’t done for, cuz rey, or whatever, its boring, i hate that shit, ya done fucked up rian, ughhukj,jhjmgjh;

what ppl (anti kylo folks) are gonna interpret this as is like, oh rey rejected kylo, time to throw a tantrum, stupid ugly emo kid wahwahwah abuse wahwah fiction is real life whatever but tbh no matter how bad this director fucked it up kylo is still a conflicted character that goes deeper than rebelling against parents because he idolizes darth vader or whatever ants think happened

i’m hoping that in the last film, rey and leia (if they keep her alive, which im not sure how that would go, rest in peace carrie fisher) would be catalysts to kylo’s downfall and not REDEMPTION but separation from the complete darkness. it’s boring and cliche to make rey and kylo light and darkness. it would be much more interesting to have them both conflicted. rey, tempted by the dark, kylo, pulled by the light. their dynamic can be SO good if jj abrams pulls this the right way

also i’m not into reylo, just mostly because 1) het 2) i’m indifferent to rey, tbh, but *film student voice* THE SYMBOLISM

anyways enough about that and onto darkpilot, cuz that’s the second thing i care about most and im too tired to stress myself out about this

fuck

FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK

like oobbbvviooousssllyy it’s not REALISTIC (its just not realistic echoes in my mind) for it to be canon that poe and kylo knew each other before ben’s fall BUT thank god they haven’t filled in the gaps, because gaps mean interpretation, and interpretation means FANFICTIIIOOONNNNNNN

i dont want this ship to be like, idk, my big otp back when i was a wee weeaboo was tobidei and because of the constant “is he obito or madara” debate and the final reveal of who tobi was and the absolute shittiness of his story i couldnt ship tobidei anymore it just. was bad

and if they do kylo like that, like, make him a pissbaby who gets killed as a villain with no more conflict or whatever angst, that’s dumb and i’m not here for it

darkpilot for me was mostly just dubcon childhood lover angst anyway so who cares, kylo will only be redeemed in fic and poe and kylo will only have known each other in fic, soyeaaaa

basically i liked the film but i have qualms with how they did it and my i’m too tired to genuinely criticize it, lol

#sw #tlj #sw spoilers #tlj spoilers