#maybe the fandom gods will answer our prayers

[selfawarejester]

True North | Edward Elric

pairing: edward elric x gn!reader

summary: ed has thoughts about his soulmate. Soulmate AU, fluff/angst.

word count: 1.5k

a/n: instead of doing my English assignment (which is the same amount of words, mind you), I decided to do this. First fic for the FMA fandom (finally)! Please enjoy <3

Ed could be considered the perfect example of a man of science. After all, despite all his loud and often-inflammatory (to his poor brother’s lament) proclamations against God, he treated science, specifically Alchemy, as a sort of religion itself — he knelt at its altars (or the arrays) and clasped his hands together “in prayer” to make miracles happen. Miracles that were completely logical and comprehensible to him, regardless of their complexity or intricacy.

But one thing still baffled him: one thing that was proven and real, and yet had no scientific basis whatsoever.

The soulmate bond.

Plenty of alchemists have been trying to figure it out for centuries. What makes one seek out their so-called “one true love”? What causes the tug, the force of which increased every passing year after one’s 15th birthday, or the closer you were to that person? What are the deciding factors as to one’s soulmate? These were questions that were slaved over, entire lives spent trying to puzzle out, volumes upon volumes of journals and articles dedicated to the phenomenon; and yet, there was no conclusive answer.

He didn’t like not having answers.

He especially didn’t like how crazy it drove his little brother.

“But isn’t it wonderful to think about, Brother?” He bites back a groan, but still rolls his eyes violently as Al started on another rant about the phenomenon. “A tangible link to the person you’re fated to be with!”

“Yeah, it’s a real doozy.” Ed mumbles, rolling his eyes. “Can we maybe get back to our research?”

Al sighs, and even though he can’t see it, he knows the brat’s shooting him that look — “Why are you so pig-headed, Brother?”, he can hear his innocent little voice.

“Brother…” Al starts off, armor creaking as he shifts behind him. “Haven’t you gotten your soulmate link yet?”

Ed stiffens, page in mid-turn.

Alphonse had been kind enough not to ask, but he’s been expecting the kid to pop the question for weeks now. After all, there was no one more romantic than his little brother; that much was obvious from the novels he snuck around and hid from him.

(And who could have given him those novels except-)

He shakes his head, knocking the thoughts of that person out as well.

“Sorry to disappoint, bud.” He sounds more confident than he feels, that eternal pressure tugging behind his sternum again. “Do me a favor and go through that pile over there, okay-?”

“And you call the Colonel a slavedriver.” A dulcet voice tsks behind him and he stiffens again.

Alphonse doesn’t notice, too caught up in greeting you, clambering up with a delighted call of your name.

The pressure burns now, causing a tremendous aching that makes him squeeze his eyes shut to push past it.

It just had to be you, didn’t it?

He flashes a smile over his shoulder, lifting his hand in a slight wave before going back to his research. Another person might be offended, but of course you aren’t.

You’re an understanding person, after all, who (as a part-time employee) sees all types in this library that the Elrics put up shop in for days at a time.

You’re a sweet person, who smiles gently when you not-so-subtly threaten to kick them out if they don’t take care of themselves.

It’s not that surprising it’s you.

For a little while, he thought it was Winry, as his heart kept tugging endlessly towards the direction in which the train to Resembool always ran.

It’s not until a month after his birthday that you returned, recounting your hometown visit (only a town over from where he grew up), and his chest almost exploded as you walked in, that he realized who his soulmate was.

There could have been worse soulmates, he thought as he watched you speak to Alphonse over his shoulder, not nearly as sly as he wished to be.

You and Al were such great friends — sure, it pissed him off a little, doubly jealous as both of you took up so much of the other’s attention — but it would’ve devastated him if you guys couldn’t get along.

You weren’t difficult on the eyes either — but that could have been the effect of his feelings or the soulmate bond, because though you were the most gorgeous thing he ever laid eyes on, he knew logically that you couldn’t have been the prettiest person in the world… but it sure did feel like it, though.

You were pretty smart — of course, he wouldn’t have cared if you weren’t, not everyone could be the prodigies he and his brother were, but he liked that you could follow along with the basics of what he was saying… even if you were completely uninterested in alchemy.

Which brought him to perhaps your most important quality, your patience. You sat there, day in and day out, listening to his rants and rambles even when it got to the point that common courtesy would have allowed you to flip him off and walk away.

And you just watched him from under Alphonse’s arm with gentle eyes, even though you both knew you were each other’s soulmates.

“Before I forget,” You interrupt Al, looking apologetic. “That new book you were asking about-“

“The one with the-?!” Al stops abruptly, snapping to look at Ed — who, in a moment of utter grace, flips around hard enough to bang both his elbow and his knee on the table.

But the pain and embarrassment might have been worth it to hear your laugh, loud and snorting and musical to his ears.

“I’ll go pick it up right now.” Al whispers way too loud, making you snicker. “Go distract Brother.”

“You got it!” You whisper just as loud, and Al giggles before sneaking off.

Ed bites the inside of his cheek, trying to will his cheeks back to their normal color when you plop down next to him, leaning your head on your palm.

“You ever gonna tell Alphonse? Or even make a move on me?” You were blunt too, awesomely to-the-point even to military officials like State Alchemists. Even Mustang went silent that one time you saw him berating your soulmate and stepped in, asking him about a book that was considerably overdue. He walked away with his chin held high, yet trembling under the disapproving glare of the Lieutenant.

Ed sighs. He knows you deserve better than him. He’s not unaware of how painful this if for you — it’s just as bad for him. He was never interested in romance or soulmates beyond a few discussions between the brothers and Winry about what they wanted their soulmates to be like… which usually ended with Alphonse rolling his eyes and Winry declaring that he would die alone.

He remembers declaring that he would be fine if he never had a soulmate. After all, his mom and that tall, bearded jerk who fathered him were soulmates. The stories their mother told the boys, twinkly-eyes and nostalgic, were what rooted their views on the concept: Alphonse yearned for it, deeply, and Ed grew bitter about it, understanding that even soulmates could ditch you and your two kids.

Until he met you, and suddenly he wanted… more. He wanted to try, to learn, for you. He knew you deserved so much, and even though he wasn’t sure he could give them to you, he wanted so bad to try. He was overcome with guilt and longing every time he saw your beautiful eyes.

But there was another guilt, a greater guilt and responsibility that came first. He mumbled your name forlornly, wishing so bad that he could say it the way he wanted to.

“I have to focus on this first. You know-“

“I know, I know.” You nod, but your eyes at downcast now, and he hates himself so much more now. “It would be nice to be acknowledged, though.”

He leans forward, putting his hand over yours.

You gasp; Ed’s not one to initiate physical contact, having jumped away the first time your skin touched his. The intense look in his eyes as they fix on your face doesn’t help, either.

“I’m gonna do right by you.” He swears right then and there, in his sacred place of worship, surrounded by the greatest works on Alchemy. “I’ll get mine and Al’s bodies back, and I’ll come find you.”

“Yeah?” You breathe out, eloquence stolen from you by his determination.

“Yeah.” He nods, squeezing your hand, a small smile curling up his lips. “I’ll take you to that café you like. It’ll be nice.”

A sudden urge to take it back, to pick another destination you might like better throws him; a café, how dumb was that?! You went there all the time! He couldn’t think of anything better than that?!

But you surprise him, laughing and biting your lip.

“Sounds great.” You say, completely genuine. At the sound of heavy footsteps, you rise, readying yourself to take your leave.

As you round the bookshelf that obscures his workspace from the rest of the world however, you stop for a moment, looking back.

“And once you’re done, you know how to find me.”

And you go, with a cute smile on your face.

And his heart tugs.

#edward elric x reader #alphonse elric x reader #only platonically alas #it’s a travesty that there are so little fics about these two #ed may get the girl in this one but I’ve got your back alphonse! #background Roy/Riza if you squint and apply a romantic subtext #gabiwrites #fullmetal alchemist #fma #fmab x reader

[divine-swag-summit]

WHO IS THE SWAGGIEST GOD-LIKE BEING OF THEM ALL?

Here are our 128 contestants! Since there are so many of them, the bracket has been split into two brackets based on the number of submissions each contestant has gotten. I tried to seed the bracket based on character popularity but I'm not familiar enough with most of these characters, so I'm sorry if your fave loses to someone way more popular than them!

So.

How is this gonna work?

Round 1 will be split into 4 parts, Higher Bracket A and B, and Lower Bracket A and B. Each of these parts will have their own day of voting. Round 2 will then be two parts, Higher Bracket and Lower Bracket. Like Round 1, each part of Round 2 will have a separate voting day. From Round 3 on, the Higher Bracket and Lower Bracket will be voted on simultaneously.

There will also be a Losers Bracket consisting of the 32 worst losers(biggest gap in votes) of round 1! This bracket will be going on in between regular rounds!

Then, the winner of each bracket(yes, that includes the Losers Bracket) will face each other in the finals in a three way poll!

VOTING RULES

This tournament isn’t about power or moral compass, it’s about SWAG! Vote for the cooler character! Remember, this isn’t a deathmatch or a philosophical debate, it’s a swag summit!

NO VOTER FRAUD. If I find out people have been botting polls or using alt accounts to vote multiple times, both competitors in the fraudulent poll will be disqualified automatically. If this begins happening to multiple polls, I will cancel the tournament altogether.

YOU ARE ALLOWED AND ENCOURAGED TO MAKE PROPAGANDA SING THE PRAISES OF YOUR GODS AND GODLIKE BEINGS! Tag me in them or use the tag #divineswagsummit2023 and I will reblog them when I see them! Anti-propaganda is also allowed, just don't be mean about it!

HAVE FUN AND BE NICE TO EACH OTHER! At the ends of the day this is just a silly character tournament, so have fun! You are obviously allowed to root for your faves and make propaganda, but please don’t be mean or pick fights with other fans. If the fighting gets too heated, I will disqualify contestants and maybe even cancel the tournament if I have to.

TAGS:

#divine matchup = polls

#divine wisdom = tournament rules and important announcements

#messages from the prophets = answered asks

#prayers for the divine = tournament propaganda

#the prophet’s musings = random, largely unimportant thoughts from the prophet(me!)

#other tournaments = promos for other tournaments

#not divine matchup = anything that isn’t a poll, tournament rules, or important announcements

In addition to these tags, every poll will be tagged with the names and fandoms of the characters participating.

ROUND MASTERPOSTS

PRELIMINARY ROUND WINNERS

HIGHER BRACKET ROUND 1-A: THURSDAY JUNE 1

HIGHER BRACKET ROUND 1-B: FRIDAY JUNE 2

LOWER BRACKET ROUND 1-A: SUNDAY JUNE 4

LOWER BRACKET ROUND 1-B: MONDAY JUNE 5

ROUND 1 SUMMARY

LOSERS BRACKET ROUND 1: THURSDAY JUNE 8

HIGHER BRACKET ROUND 2: SATURDAY JUNE 10

LOWER BRACKET ROUND 2: SUNDAY JUNE 11

ROUND 2 SUMMARY

LOSERS BRACKET ROUND 2: WEDNESDAY JUNE 14

ROUND 3: SATURDAY JUNE 17

ROUND 3 SUMMARY

LOSERS BRACKET ROUND 3: MONDAY JUNE 19

ROUND 4: WEDNESDAY JUNE 21

ROUND 4 SUMMARY

LOSERS BRACKET SEMIFINALS: SATURDAY JUNE 25

QUARTERFINALS: WEDNESDAY JUNE 28

QUARTERFINALS SUMMARY

LOSERS BRACKET FINALS: SUNDAY JULY 2

SEMIFINALS: TUESDAY JULY 4

SEMIFINALS SUMMARY

FINALS: FRIDAY JULY 7

#divineswagsummit2023 #divine wisdom

[thefreakandthehair]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

tagged by @steddieas-shegoes like, forever ago and I keep forgetting.

1. How many works do you have on AO3? 42! most are steddie with some criminal minds fics from over ten years ago buried deep.

2. What’s your total AO3 word count? 252,271

3. What fandoms do you write for? right now, just stranger things! I've been toying around with writing destiel again but if I did, it'd be anonymous. (after my entire portfolio was wiped from livejournal, I'm still in pain about it.)

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos? 1. and if I get burned, at least we were electrified.  2. i made this mess with love.  3. what you feel is what you are (and what you are is beautiful)  4. the answers are all inside of this.  5. Livin' On A Prayer 

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? yes! eventually! sometimes, it'll take me awhile because I just get backed up but I read them and smile and kick my feet, and even though it takes me a bit to reply, those comments are what keep me writing. <3

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? happy endings are guaranteed in this house, always. I'll never write an angsty ending-- canon hurts me enough. the most bittersweet ending though would have to be scar-crossed lovers. 

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? oooo, that's tough because they're all happy endings! but I think over the hills and far away because, by virtue of it being a long fic, the happy ending feels deserved. those two went through it to get to that ending which made it so satisfying to write!

8. Do you get hate on fics? I haven't, no, and I'm very grateful for that. but I'm also like, super liberal with the block function. we cultivate our spaces here, friends!

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? I do, but only in the context of like, what else is happening in the fic. I just can't write pwp lmao, major kudos to everyone else who does it so well! I'm in awe of your talent perpetually.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written? I wrote a supernatural/charmed crossover au many, many years ago. but recently? kicks cracky supernatural/stranger things crossover au scrivener wip under the couch. nope.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? not in this fandom!

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? not that I know of, but that'd be super cool.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? not yet... but I have some plans. keep an eye out next year. 👀

14. What’s your all time favorite ship? steddie broke something in my brain, but destiel laid the path for it be broken to start with.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? liturgies & devotionals, unfortunately. or at least in its current existence in scrivener? it's a big undertaking but if I can make it less complicated, maybe it stands a chance.

16. What are your writing strengths? not once have I been able to answer this and feel comfortable with it, but I do really enjoy the omniscent third person point of view and have gotten compliments on it. and narrative writing, I like setting the scene and developing introspection.

17. What are your writing weaknesses? there are several but god, fucking dialogue! it's my kryptonite. that, and actually ending a story. context disease is so real.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? the only other language I've ever used is a snippet of Klingon, but I'd also feel comfortable using bits of French because I know a good bit of French. anything else would just feel super inauthentic because idk what the fuck I'm saying.

19. First fandom you wrote for? uh, it was around 2001 and it was for a fandom that I no longer associate with.

20. Favorite fic you’ve written? to the surprise of no one: over the hills and far away <333 so much of me is in that fic and it was hugely healing.

no pressure tags: @withacapitalp @stevethehairington @steves-strapcollection @henderdads @patchworkgargoyle @inairbinad @steddieasitgoes @starrystevie @judasofsuburbia @fragilecapric0rnn @kkpwnall @fastcardotmp3 @penny00dreadful @cranberrymoons @catknives @hbyrde36 @cuoredimuschio @wormdebut @wynnyfryd @sidekick-hero @t-boyeddie @scarcrossdlvrs + anyone else who hasn't been tagged and wants to participate!

#tag game #myfic #this sat in my drafts forever i am so sorry holy shit

[fizzyxcustard]

Anything Is Possible (4)

Masterlist of fan fiction

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Fandom: Robin Hood (BBC TV series)

Pairing: Guy of Gisborne x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Angst, brief smut, violence, mild sexual assault references, graphic depictions of being burned alive.

Summary: From the imagine, “Imagine you and Guy are in love but you are to be married to someone else. It feels like everything is keeping you apart."

Comments: If you would like to be added to or removed from my tag list, please let me know. Lord Edmund is based off Arnold Vosloo (from The Mummy)

Your mother glared at your father in sheer anger and contempt at his lack of empathy. "All of this is because of you," she shouted. "You could have stood up to Edmund, you coward."

"How dare you! Edmund has kept us in comfort since offering to take her as his wife."

"You and money!" your mother spat.

"If we lose out on this then Edmund could do something much worse."

"Or we lose our daughter completely. I never liked Gisborne much before today, but he was more willing to fight for her happiness than you. He's the only one who has been ready to fight for her."

"Gisborne is a dog!" your father growled.

"And Edmund isn't? Gisborne has a heart. If it was up to me, I'd gladly let him take her hand. He's willing to fight for her, as is right."

*

Your mother and you remained side by side, your head on her shoulder, as you wept . The rain was falling heavy outside your window, mirroring you heart. "I would gladly take this burden off your shoulders, my sweet," your mother said softly. "I'm sorry I never spoke up sooner."

"Maybe if I pray hard enough then my words will make it through the rain and clouds, and up into heaven," you said softly.

*

Two days later and you sat by your window, imagining the times that Guy had visited. All you could see was his silver blue eyes, long nose, charming smirk and wavy, raven hair.

Wedding preparation was now underway. Seamstresses had taken your measurements and were beginning to make your gown. In fact, the head seamstress, Mary, was your mother's best friend of many years since childhood.

Each day seemed to disappear from your grasp, quicker than the blink of an eye, and all you could do was think of Guy. Would he come through and find some way to release you from this hell? You missed him so dearly that you forgot to eat, and felt as if all intensity had dissolved from the world. Everything felt empty, void of colour, taste or smell. All your senses had become dull.

As a child you never believed in love, thinking it to be some insane concept that people yearned for but never actually found. But how entirely wrong you had always been. Guy had made you see that you really could become besotted and need another person.

The first time Guy and you had kissed was when he was escorting you home after duties the previous summer. Townsfolk may have only seen his greed and hostility, which was driven by the Sheriff, but you saw a whole different face. Somehow he was changed when in your company, becoming empathetic, understanding. And now that your relationship had blossomed exponentially, Gisborne demonstrated how loyal he truly was. You knew of the sadness he had endured since a child, never having known true love. Now that someone loved him in return and his fierce loyalty was unleashed.

*

Guy sat on the edge of his bed one morning. As always, he was thinking of you. Prayer had never been something he resorted to, until now. In the buzz and chatter of his own anguish-riddled mind, Guy of Gisborne requested to commune with God. There was no immediate answer, and all he could do was wait, giving the reins over to a higher power, rather than rely on his own strength.

There was a whoosh as something was pushed under his door. He slipped across the room, barefoot, and picked up the envelope marked with his name. In the envelope was a piece of parchment, and his eyes were drawn immediately to your name, which was written in black ink. And Edmund's name followed. It was a wedding invitation.

Growling like a tortured animal, Guy tore the parchment apart and threw it onto his fire. In those moments and he imagined it was Edmund's face being thrown into the flames. Guy saw it all in his mind's eye: Edmund's eyes melting, skin bubbling, and his mouth open wide, screaming, but no words came as his throat disintegrated.

A tap came to his door. All thoughts were tangled and emotion became caught up, pulled into one big mess. "Come!" he shouted, his fist still clenched.

A guard entered the room and removed his helmet.

"What is it?" Guy snapped.

"I can get you to her without being seen. My wife is the head seamstress working on her gown, and she's longstanding friends with her mother."

"How?" Guy urged, shifting up to the guard. "The Sheriff has spies all over the place, we all know that."

*

After dark that night you lay in bed, only to hear your door creak open. You looked up to see your mother's face illuminated by moonlight. "Put on your cloak and shoes...quickly!"

Your stomach jolted in both anxiety and excitement. Your gut was telling you that something wonderful was about to happen.

As soon as you'd pulled on your thick cloak and shoes, you followed your mother out of the small house, trying hard not to make too much noise and wake your father. You heard snoring coming from your parents' room, and continued out into the open street.

Both you and your mother dashed into the field behind your house, hand in hand. It was fairly cold out, but the excitement and the rush warmed you.

Finally you made it to Farmer Henry's barn, where a guard was stood just outside, keeping watch. Your mother ushered you into the barn.

Guy looked up and saw you appear. He called out your name and raced to you. Both of you grabbed each other tight and kissed hard. As you stood in Guy's embrace with his forehead pressed to yours, you couldn't help but break down into sobs.

"I love you so much," you wept.

Guy kissed your brow and held you tight to him, desperate to keep you there.

Your mother watched for a few moments, seeing the sheer desperation in yours and Guy's actions. Then she shifted out of the barn, giving you privacy. With a sigh, she felt regret and guilt wrack through her. How could she ever let Edmund take you from Guy? What kind of mother would she be to submit her own child to a world of emotional, mental and physical torture by a man who should protect them? What kind of mother would she be for denying her child the chance to be happy?

The guard looked at your mother. "Are you alright?" he asked.

"I can't let that wedding happen," she said, beginning to choke on tears. "If it means being imprisoned, or worse, then I'll fight for my daughter and Gisborne to be together."

***

Follow Forever tag list: @lathalea @xxbyimm @linasofia @middleearthpixie @meganlpie @luna-xial @knittastically @guardianofrivendell @asgardianhobbit98 @eunoiaastralwings @quiall321 @missihart23 @lemond57 @sazzlep @evenstaredits @glassgulls @rachel1959 @msjava1972 @mrsdurin @catthefearless @the-fragile-heart-of-a-lady @aliasauthor @solairewisteria @littlebird-99 @court-jobi @heilith @absentmindeduniverse @albionscastle @way-too-addicted-to-fandoms

Guy of Gisborne tag list: @puggledy-huggledy-is-not-a-pig @whoooooisthis

#Guy of Gisborne #Richard Armitage #Robin Hood #Guy of Gisborne x Reader #Guy of Gisborne x Fem!Reader #Fanfic

[padfoot0216]

Part 1 of me single handedly trying to grow the Miracle Workers fandom because I love the show.

Segment 1: Out of context quotes (Season 1)

1. Eliza - “Theres no way we can answer all of those [prayers].

Craig - I generally try and shoot for three, four a day. Although, now that I’ve got you, a teammate, theres no telling what we can do. I’m thinking 5…6…maybe as many as 6!”

2. Eliza - “There’s got to be something we can do .

Craig - I mean you can press F7.

Eliza - Does that stop typhoons?

Craig - No but it turns the sound off.”

3. Craig - “And does the debris ever dance?

Person - What?

Craig - Say the debris had lost an object, and then that object were found for it, would the debris be like *insert Craig dancing slightly*”

4. God - “But if you fail…

Eliza - Earth explodes.

God - Yeah but also…you have to eat a worm. Alive. The whole thing. The head and the butt. In front of everyone.”

5. God - “So we could explode his heart, or his lungs, *under his breath* or his penis.

Sanjay - Explode his penis?

God - Woah now that’s an idea!”

6. Abe Lincoln - “Out of my way black cat I’m late for my fun play!”

7. Craig - “Oh, no. No. Im not scared.

Eliza - You’re not?

Craig - No. I’m a bold, intrepid man with a strong mind. I’m a risk taker. I’m a big, bad…boy?”

8. Man 1 - “Oh shit my melon.

Man 2 - There goes our fruit salad.”

9. Craig - “If the world explodes then you will go down as history’s greatest murderer. Nobody wants that.”

10. Person - “This isn’t the department of anuses. We have integrity.”

11. Craig - “Thank you, and this pizza gentleman is gonna live, right?

Eliza- We are back on track.”

12. Eliza - “That necklace…why? I mean who wears bones to a massacre. I mean ugh I thought I was so hip.”

13. Sanjay - “We just watched you eat mud out of a bog.

Craig - Yeah that was clean mud.”

14. Person - “Why is the tornado staying in one place! This is impossible!”

15. [God scatting]

16. Craig - “It would make me really sad if God couldn’t read.”

17. Eliza - “Did he just turn that guy into a jellybean?!”

18. Eliza - “I am objectively bad at my job. I have accidentally killed a ton of people and I’m the leader of this group.

Sanjay - It’s true.

Craig - She leads us.”

19. Craig - “Yes! She saved us! Nooo, I have it away! He knows.”

20. Sanjay - “Okay, okay, new pitch. Uh, how about a romantic carriage ride?

Craig - Nope. Sam’s afraid of horses. Doesn’t like their eyes.

Sanjay - All right, then, uh, what about an eyeless horse? We get some crows, right?

Craig - Wait, where are you getting crows from?

Sanjay - It’s Earth. Anywhere. We get them to swoop down and peck the eyes out of the horse.

Craig - No, crows only peck out of dead things, though. So unless you’re going to get a dead horse-

Sanjay - Then I’ll get a dead horse!”

21. Eliza - “You’d go for it, right?

Craig - Well, no, not necessarily. Not if I was unsure about how she felt about me, or was scared to death if losing her as a friend, and also pretty frightened of her in general.

Eliza - What?

Craig - What?”

22. God’s Brother - “Explain cows.

God - I don’t want to do this anymore.

God’s Brother - Tell mom and dad what a cow is.

God - It’s like a big dog you can drink from.”

23. Gods Brother - “Tell then about giraffes. What’s a giraffe.

God - Tall dog with a leg for a neck.”

24. Craig - “(singing) Mr. Mop and Mrs. Bucket you live on a shelf. One is wet and one is dry and you are both my friends.”

25. Eliza - “(to Craig) Listen I’m sorry we put you in the cabinet.”

26. Person - “I’ll be honest, I’m always high, you know?”

27. Eliza - “Craig! Craig! Are you okay? Craig?

Craig - Bzzzzzzzzzz.

Eliza - *gasp*

Craig - Just kidding.”

28. Sanjay - “(pointing to a word that is clearly mammoths) We do it right here in the department of love.

God - Oh. Makes sense. Okay.

God - There sure is a lot of mammoth stuff in here.”

#single handedly trying to grow this fandom #miracle workers #tv shows #tv show quotes #out of context quotes #please watch it #it’s so good #craig bog #Eliza #Sanjay prince #Rosie #god

[ao3feed-crimeboys]

Graveyard of Eden

by AliveAndRestless

“I prayed many weeks to our god for guidance.” The priest begins, addressing the crowd. “To a solution for the curse that has befallen us. If something is not done, we will all surely fall victim to Her wrath before the winter's end.”

The crowd murmurs, whispering and shifting anxiously.

He raises a hand, soothing them. “I believe that my prayers have been answered. Our faith has been tested, my dear people, and this adversity has proven that not everyone has the strength to walk the path of righteousness alongside us.”

Only then does he turn to the boy at his feet. The eyes of the crowd follow.

The boy’s face turns white as the marble statue looming over him.

“Lady Death appears to favor this boy.” Says the priest. “What better sacrifice to appease her than one she has chosen herself?”

  -

(Tommy, teenage sacrifice, is not having a good time. 'Gods' Phil, Wilbur, and Technoblade are also not having the best time, for different-yet-somewhat-related reasons.)

Words: 3471, Chapters: 1/9, Language: English

Series: Part 1 of harvest moon

Fandoms: Dream SMP

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: Gen

Characters: TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot, Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Phil Watson | Philza, Kristin Rosales Watson, Dream SMP Ensemble

Relationships: Wilbur Soot & Technoblade & TommyInnit & Kristin Rosales Watson & Phil Watson | Philza, Wilbur Soot & Technoblade & TommyInnit & Phil Watson, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit, Technoblade & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), TommyInnit & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), TommyInnit & Kristin Rosales Watson, Kristin Rosales Watson/Phil Watson

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Sort Of, you'll see - Freeform, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Religious TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Minor Violence, Minor Injuries, starts out as a, Sickfic, turns into a discussion about, Religious Guilt, Cults, Religious Cults, maybe the real religion is the friends we made along the way, Hypothermia, SPOILERS FOR THE REST OF THE TAGS, Alternate Universe - Time Travel

#ao3feed #wilbur soot #tommyinnit #crimeboys #crime boys #crimebois #crime bois #mcyt #This is an automated process #If you see any fic that breaks boundaries #or the fic is yours and you don't want it shared send an ask #it will be looked at and removed if need be

[earnestly-endlessly]

Hey, I love your blog; thank you for looking up all these recs for people!

I just rewatched "Days of Future Past" and wondered what would have happened if they DID pull off sending the Professor back. Are you aware of a fic about that?

Cheers, have a great day!

Thanks for the ask @sparklingrainbowdragon. I'm sorry for the delay but I have been searching and searching for a fic where Charles goes back. I swear there is, or used to be, a fic where Charles was sent back but I just can't find it. However, there are some fics that fit the bill a bit loosely and I thought I might add them as a compensation for not finding what you were asking for. Perhaps someone out there knows of a fic (@gerec, @ikeracity) and if I find it I'll put it here.

The future makes of you what it will (the recreational time travel remix) - pocky_slash

Summary: They probably should have destroyed those time machines once they fixed the future, but while they have them, Erik doesn't see why they can't do a little more recreational meddling.

Always Pass on Good Advice – cygnaut

Summary: Charles realizes there’s only one person who can talk Erik out of his terrible plans: himself.

Replay - Unforgotten

Summary: After Magneto of an X2-ish future succeeds in the unthinkable, Charles sends his consciousness back to 1962 to guide Erik away from the path that will lead to the genocide of the human race forty years hence.

Charles knows that Erik has always loved him, and intends to use this knowledge + sex to seduce Erik away from his ideals in his youth.

There's no way this well-thought-out, sensible, debugged and 100% bulletproof plan can possibly go wrong.

By Any Means Necessary (Trial and Error Remix) – Unforgotten

Summary: After Charles' untimely death in the dark future, Magneto goes back instead of Logan—but no matter what he does to try to change the past, he can never seem to change himself. In the end, there's only one option left, and he's more than ruthless enough to take it.

#asks #earnestly answers #cherik #cherik fic recs #fic recs #days of future past #maybe someone out there knows of a fic #maybe the fandom gods will answer our prayers

[thessaliah]

So I've been thinking about the Alien God/Beast VII/U-Olga Marie's true identity, and I think I may have come to an interesting conclusion: what if the Alien God was actually Nibiru aka Planet X, in the same way as how the Voyager space probe became a Servant? "Planet X" is one of many possible end of the world scenarios, and U-Olga is called "the Beast That Announces The End". Half-baked theory, I know, but I'd say there's a decent connection, right?

I don't think it's an alien at all, not in that sense. One built from fantasy, perhaps. When Kirschtaria said that is a being of fiction/fantasy/isn't reality, he means it. Spoilers for Olympus/Avalon?

The tree's purpose is to turn fantasy or fiction real. The Lostbelts are what-if simulations scenarios generated by the tree which can be anchored, to show how the pruned timelines could have evolved if they hadn't been pruned. Creating "history."

It's all generated by Chaldea equipment. That much is obvious. Sure, it could use alien technology, but IMO, that's irrelevant. Like the backstory of the Greek Pantheon isn't relevant just fluff because what matters were their decisions and their influence. Maybe there is a tortured alien who resonated with this and connected as chosen to be a host with Olga, but again, that's beside the point, because they aren't the "Alien God" who is a fictitious being.

The question now is: did the god/beast and Chaldea equipment cause the bleaching? Or is simply answering to create a situation to permit humanity to continue in some way that could only happen with this through their logic (which may or may not be compromised by the grudge and prayers of the pruned data they recorded through observation), accidentally triggering a worst-case scenario because the "god" has dumb plans? We don't know.

If you read between the lines of what Kirschtaria and Goetia say, they never mentioned that the Beast/god was responsible for these circumstances (the rest of the Crypters and Chaldea assumed), rather it was humanity who reached this end. Kirschtaria's talk about how our choices and prosperity weren't appropriate is a reminder of why timelines are pruned: a wrong choice, a wrong prosperity. He's not the person the fandom first assumed he was, when he wishes for humanity to reach for an "answer" to solve this even at the cost of his life, it may be deeper than we assumed. Galahad also warns of this in Lostroom. Many were eager to accuse him of a deserter and a coward (sic), but he never said that a threat did this, but that their history reached this end and won't continue in the future. While the plot of part 2 is all retconned and there are millions of plotholes, we could speculate that Animuspheres and the 72 demon gods detected the same thing: the end, and tried to find way to prevent it which triggered the Beast chain reaction. Now Goetia does try this stunt in every timeline (his grief and pity are the issues, not the end, that’s just adding fuel to the fire heh), but not all the demons of the colony agree which makes the Beast I unmanifested by their rebellion (Flauros' specifically).

So if this is true... is there a way to salvage this timeline. Maybe not, maybe yes. With a major theme being that living is enough in itself for all the little moments you spent even if it’s short and your efforts aren’t rewarded, it could go either way. Maybe “accepting the end” would be accepting this was their end, and by beating Beast VII, is to make her aware that her efforts were enough, and that’s time to let go. As in LB3 foreshadows: What if we’re the ones left behind? Would we tore our own Tree of Fantasy as Qin did? “Accepting the end” is a major theme, but let’s see if Nasu will play this in a dramatic unforgettable fashion or he’ll allow them to have a fiction installed as real to salvage something, even if they won’t be the same characters.

Beast VII being the End, IMO, is the same as Beast I being the Genesis. They are on the opposite side of plans to reach the apex of each.

#fate grand order #fgo ask #meta #speculation

[tearsofgrace]

written for suptober20 day 13: ladies

my mind heard ladies and went “well, father, it’s the women” and here we are

wc: 1.1k tags: very light angst, way less prosey than normal for me, literally just scene rewrite with inner monologue, idk man it’ll work i guess

also on archive!

“Um…it’s the women, Father. Where do I begin?” Dean started nervously. This was stupid. Part of him was convinced Sam was making him do this just to watch him suffer and laugh, because there were a million other ways they could take care of this ghost. But, whatever.

“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned, is usual,” Father Delaney said from the other booth. Right. There were procedures and policies. God, he couldn’t even remember the last time he’d been in a church when it wasn’t a job. They used to go as a family… before Mary-

Before their mom died. But after that John had given up. There was nothing at church for them.

“Right. Good. Yeah. So, that,” Dean muttered. Why was this so hard? It wasn’t like he had to lie. “And, um…so the women. Uh, and this is not something that I’m proud of, but I let them think that we have more of a future than we do, you know? Ah, Gina.” He’d never known a Gina. Why was that what he went with? Why did his mind jump to-

No. He couldn’t think about that now. Not here.

“Gina?”

“Well, now, don’t get me wrong. I mean, she was – it was good times. I mean, you know how it is – the sex, the lasagna – but I was not honest with her. And sometimes, I was seeing two, maybe three girls at the same time, sometimes in the same day.” He added in a chuckle for effect and then went on, “You get the picture. And it wasn’t just Gina. It was endless. It’s making me sick.” He spat out the last line with an eye roll. The sooner he could get out of this damn booth, the walls closing in on him, begging him to give them his secrets, the better.

“And you wish to be forgiven, my son?” Father Delaney sounded bored too. At least they had that in common. But this had to seem somewhat real, if this ridiculous plan was going to work.

“I do. I need to clean up my act.” The words rang a distant bell. His father pulling him from the Impala by the cover of his shirt, his eyes looking darkly on the figure still inside. Spittle flew from his mouth as he screamed at Dean. Told him he better clean up his act or “he would fucking kill him.”

Why hadn’t he made Sam do this?

“As penance, you shall say five “Hail Mary’s” two “Our Father’s”, and reflect on your transgression.”

Of course that’s all it was. Church was bullshit. “And then, that’s it? then I’m good to go?”

“One would hope some…inner exploration might occur. The prayers are just the beginning to some serious soul-searching.”

Dean snorted. Soul-searching. Right. The cure all to inner problems. If that were true, he would have cured himself a long time ago.

“Is there anything else on your mind, Agent Allman?”

Dean paused. He could walk out. Right here. They could salt and burn the damn bones and leave this town in the rearview mirror. But something stopped him. He laughed nervously, then took a plunge. “What if I said I…I didn’t want to die…yet, you know, that I wasn’t ready?”

“Are you expecting to?” the priest asked. He sounded a little taken aback, which was only fair. Dean forgot sometimes that not everyone walked around with a target taped to their back.

“Always,” he said truthfully. “You know, the life I live, the work I do…I pretty much just figured that that was all there was to me, you know? Tear around and jam the key in the ignition and haul ass until I ran out of gas. I guess I just thought sooner or later, I’d go out the same way that I live – pedal to the metal, and that would be it.”

“But now?”

Jesus, why hadn’t he just left? This was ridiculous. He was talking to a priest who was probably a hypocrite about a life he would never understand. And if he was in here any longer Sam would get suspicious.

Then he shrugged. He’d gotten this far. “Now, um… recent events, uh… make me think I might be closer to that than I really thought. And…I don’t know. I mean, you know, there’s – there’s things,” he paused for a minute. He shouldn’t do this. They were dangerously close to the truth now. And this wasn’t the place for that. But he went on anyway. “There’s…people,” he banished Cas’ blue eyes from his mind the minute they showed up and went on, “feelings that I-I-I want to experience differently than I have before, or maybe even for the first time.”

“Go a little deeper, perhaps, than with Gina.”

There hadn’t been a Gina. There had been a Greyson. In the back of a bar when Sam had decided to stay home one night. When he was sure no one else would see them, would let anyone know how disgusting, how wrong he was. Which was the problem of course, it wasn’t wrong. But Winchesters… His mind went back to the car again. To Lee and him in the backseat. To his father’s angry pounding on the door.

Winchesters are not fags.

He didn’t answer the priest. Just pushed out of the confessional, slamming the door in anger behind him. He left the memories there, too. There wasn’t any place for them here. They were working. And Sam would know if something was wrong. So he told himself there was nothing. No new feelings, new people, new whatever the hell he’d been spouting off about in there. Lee had been his friend, Greyson had been Gina, and Cas was nothing to him but a brother.

“So, you think you had an eavesdropper in there?” Sam asked as he came up to the pew his brother had been waiting on.

“Hope so,” he responded tightly.

They beat the ghost, came out on top, just like they always did. And just like always, as soon as they were off the clock, Sam wanted to talk feelings.

“You know… you were in that confessional a long time,” Dean looked up from the bag he was packing and rolled his eyes. “Look, man, I’m just saying, I’m your brother, Dean. If you ever need to talk about anything with anybody, you got somebody right here next to you.”

For just a brief second, he was tempted. He was tempted to just come out with it. He was sure Sam already knew, was just giving him time or some bullshit. But he couldn’t. John’s voice was too loud in his ears. So it would have to stay his dirty little secret.

So he muttered, “Okay.”

Because it was easier this way. He was dying soon anyway. No one ever needed to know.

tag list {ask to be added or removed:3}

@fandomstuff67 @menjiiii @witchyanaels @starlightcastiel @chaoticdean @larryforeveralways @samhainsam @ghostsforcas @tlakhtwritesdestiel @wanderingcas @hallowena @spooky-things-do-happen-dean @jayus-fandom-writer @cas-you-assbutt-dean-needs-you @starrynightdeancas @radiantdean @piemaker-from-gallifrey @on-a-bender @eshaninjer @trasherasswood @dreadful-delight

#the confessional was a coming out scene #idk man #suptober20 #destiel fic #spn fanfic #supernatural fanfic #spn fan fiction #destiel fanfic #deancas fic #destiel ficlet #my writing

[sentimentalspiders]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Ronan Lynch/Adam Parrish Characters: Adam Parrish, Ronan Lynch, Mr. Gray | Dean Allen Additional Tags: Demon Ronan Lynch, Catholic Adam Parrish, Divinity Student Adam Parrish, College Student Adam Parrish, Road Trips, Canon-Typical Mentions of Abuse, Alternate Universe - Demons, The Barns (Raven Cycle), Harvard Student Adam Parrish Summary:

Once upon a time, Adam Parrish had not–if you’ll pardon him–given a good God damn about God or the devil. At eleven, Adam took for granted that praying did not mean an answered prayer. At twelve, he understood that devil was just another word for the man who lived in his house and shared his eye color.

At thirteen, Adam realized that, actually, he was fucking wrong, that the devil was literal and maybe so was God. He knew this because one day, a demon crept into his parents’ trailer and made Adam wolf down the entire meager contents of the refrigerator, made him gorge himself on pickles and processed cheese slices and casserole leftovers, and then slunk out the open kitchen window in an ooze of black feathers.

As an adult, unmaking the rules of good and evil consumed Adam Parrish. Proving his experience was the undercurrent to everything he did. That was why it was so absolutely fucked up that when he did finally encounter a demon for the second time, he wasn’t even trying to do it.

Here is my piece for @ravencyclebigbang 2021! SO MANY thanks to @cheeriosnuggles for the incredible piece of art, please go shower compliments upon demon Ronan!

#trc big bang 2021 #the raven cycle #trc #adam parrish #ronan lynch #pynch

[yuuri-nsane]

Bloom

Fandom: Yuuri On Ice

Ship: Viktuuri [Viktor Nikiforov/Katsuki Yuuri]

T/W: none, but if you read this and feel that there should be a warning for a certain something, please don't hesitate to let me know!

Summary: Crown Prince Viktor Nikiforov has grown into quite the dashing young man. He's charming, good-looking, and surprisingly witty. His highness, although considered quite the social butterfly, likes to spend time alone in the royal gardens at ungodly hours of the night. What happens when someone interrupts his way there, in a partially concerning, yet impressive way?

[Part One] [Part Two] [Part Three]

a/n: hey guys!! this is a viktuuri royalty au, as requested by @confusedgayscreeching! thank you so much for the request, and for motivating me!

anyway, i hope you guys enjoy this! there isn't so much action here, but it was so fun to write! i might even make a part two? ps. please please please let me know if you see any errors or spelling mistakes! and constructive criticism is greatly appreciated! thank you!

---

He shuffled quietly through the halls of the castle, his footsteps only barely above a whisper. His movements were precise, sharp. It was as if he'd done this a million times before, which, of course, he had.

It wasn't his first time sneaking out of his room after dark, but then again, you could never be too careful. Not when you're the crown prince and a handful of guards have sworn loyalty to you and your family - it was basically a subtle promise of imprisonment. Viktor scoffed in exasperation, shaking his head; he had to focus, dammit! Or else he'd get caught again. And God knows how much trouble he'd gotten into last time.

He slipped through a pair of grand wooden doors leading into the kitchen, opting to use the door in the back to leave the castle and go venture into the gardens. He clambered his way past the central island on his left, several utensils hanging above and glistening in the moonlight. Quiet grey light shone through the obscenely large window behind said utensils, forcing glowing streaks to bounce through the shiny metal that hung above, and to rest peacefully on the wall adjacent.

Viktor reached for the door, pushing ever so slightly, a somber creak emitting from the motion - as he perked his head through. A tuft of silver hair spiked into the gap, ruffling slightly from the biting breeze of the night.

He scanned the view before him, a quick, calculating observation before he deemed it safe to step outside. He made to open the door entirely, before he was pulled backward, a sudden arm wrapping around his shoulders from behind him, lead by a quick flicking wrist which smacked a hand onto his mouth quite ungracefully.

The crown prince couldn't help the strangled exclamation that gargled in his throat. His eyes widened and his eyebrows furrowed, both in confusion and minute panic. He was forced to bend backwards slightly, giving him the impression that his captor was smaller than himself, albeit by quite a bit. It wasn't until he felt a soft thud from behind, suggesting the two had been backed into the opposing wall of the window, that he heard a voice.

And boy, was it a voice.

"Shhh! Don't move, they're coming!"

Viktor jumped in surprise. He certainly wasn't expecting that.

He sounded...young. Or at least he thought he did, from what he could guess given the low, frantic whisper that caressed the shell of his right ear. His age, he pondered. A good twenty years old, if he could make such an educated estimate. He was originally opting for an older man, maybe in his thirties instead - given his strength (which Viktor admitted bitterly, was on a level that he could only barely compete with), and the fact that most ruffians and enemies of the royal family usually fit into that age category.

He could be wrong, maybe this man was in fact thirty, and his voice just, hadn't broken...yet? Viktor grumbled dumbly, or at least he mustered a pathetic sigh from behind the hand clamped tightly around his face. That didn't sound right - no, it sounded ridiculous. The perpetrator didn't have a child-like voice to begin with, it just didn't sound like the gruff growl he'd been anticipating. No, instead, it was the opposite?

He continued to circle hopelessly in his mind, overthinking who exactly was keeping his mouth shut with such an unnecessarily strong grip. It wasn't like Viktor was going to try and escape, anyway. He hadn't even considered it. He was far too perplexed by the situation, and also a little too scared.

The prince only barely registered the footsteps on the other side of the door beside him - the one he'd been meaning to use to leave. He froze completely then.

"-hear that?"

"Yes, I'm sure I didn't hear anything."

"But, it sounded like there was someone-"

"Oh, stop it already! I've told you a million times already, there's no such thing as ghosts!"

"No, I don't mean-"

"C'mon, we came here and look! Nothing! No ghouls, no ghosts, no bogey monsters! What you heard was probably just the wind, okay?"

"...Yeah, you're probably right."

"Heh, obviously! Let's go, already - we left our posts just to check out that spooky noise you heard. We should head back before we get in trouble or whatever."

"...Race ya!"

"Wait, what! Leo! Come back! That's not fair-!"

The hazardous yet uncharacteristically soft clanking of armour could be heard quietening down, before absolute silence made a deafening return. Well, Viktor bemused, he'd have to talk to Yakov about the quality of security around here.

He let out a breath of relief, jolting when he remembered the man behind him who still held roughly held him in place, who also in turn, seemed to ease up at the disappearance of the two castle guards outside.

Viktor looked up, uttering a silent prayer before yanking the hand that had clamped his mouth shut moments earlier away from him, swivelling around and capturing both of his captors wrists in one hand, forcing them above the other's head. His free arm, he used to shove the man impossibly further into wall, his forearm digging deep across sharpened shoulders and pointed collarbones.

He was only barely able to rival the other's strength, but that didn't mean he couldn't at all.

Viktor took a moment to breathe. It was at that exact moment that he took into account the unfair embodiment of beauty that stood powerlessly caged within his arms.

It was a contrast to his own looks - Victor being of pale skin and unusually grey-toned hair. His eyes a calm yet raging blue, resembling that of a stormy ocean: elegant, yet unforgiving. A plethoric sea capable of drowning the most unsuspecting.

The culprit however, had dark hair. Sparkling locks of night that flayed here and there - not too messy, but instead just right. His skin was pale also, yet raging splotched roses had began to bloom on the apple of his cheeks.

His eyes, Viktor noted, were also dark. With a quick glance he would've mistaken them for a measly brown, but it was much more than that. Being face to face with his captor allowed him to take into account the light flecks that swirled in such pools of raven black - reflected from the moonlight that relentlessly twinkled into view. Separating his eyes meekly from Victor's intense gaze were a pair of golden framed spectacles - rectangular shaped and thin.

A small, whimpering choke jarred Viktor from of his train of thought - and he refocused his attention.

He went on to clear his throat, squinting accusingly before he questioned, "Care to explain yourself?"

"I-I, uhm..."

"You can start with a name. Who exactly are you?" Viktor goaded. He was curious to say the least: the person he was currently holding down seemed harmless, actually - he was shorter than Viktor, as he'd suspected, and the pure look of fright the other sported was enough to convince Viktor to take just a little bit of pity on him.

"-ri."

"Huh?"

"My, my name. It's..."

"I'm sorry, but you need to speak louder, I can't hear you."

"My name is-it's uh, Yuuri Katsuki!"

Viktor loosened his grip on Yuuri's wrists, before letting go completely, leaning away and giving the other some much needed space.

"Why did you do that?" Viktor asked, intrigued, "why did you stop me from going outside?"

Yuuri cowered in the midst of Viktor's questioning, opening and closing his mouth as if he was looking for the answer himself. He looked much like a fish out of water, the prince mused.

"I, uh," Viktor nodded, urging for Yuuri to carry on, as he crossed his arms over his chest and looked down at the quivering male, "I remember the first time you got in trouble for sneaking out of bounds after dark. Um, I just-I just didn't want that to happen a-again."

Yuuri wrung his hands anxiously, suddenly looking at the ground in wonder, as if it were the best thing since sliced bread.

Viktor gave a pointed look, but was betrayed by the tilted smirk beginning to form on his lips.

Before he could say anything, though, Yuuri suddenly bent forward - his arms straightened by his sides and head bowed in supplication.

"It-it won't ever happen again! I'm so, so sorry, your majesty! I, uh, I suppose I acted out of impulse - which is completely inexcusable, and, oh! I didn't hurt you did I?! Your highness, I-"

The crown prince looked on in amusement - doing little to cease Yuuri and his garbled rambling.

Instead, he took the time to evaluate what Yuuri had previously said, and he appointed only two main facts:

1) Yuuri worked in the castle, given the fact that he knew about Viktor's embarrassing failed attempt to sneak out once upon a time (and now that Viktor could actually see him, he noticed the slightly formal attired Yuuri wore - which fit the castle staff's dress code uncannily). Yet, Viktor wondered why he hadn't recognised the man before him, nor his name.

and 2) Yuuri saved him from a certain doom, doom being his advisor, Yakov, and his booming wrath, had he been caught in the gardens late at night again.

This, Viktor concluded, could not be overlooked!

"Yuuri Katsuki."

Yuuri immediately sealed his lips, discontinuing the string of apologetic nonsense that would've escaped had he not done so. He looked Viktor in the eye this time, shaking with what Viktor guessed to be both fear and genuine curiosity.

"What were doing in the kitchens at such a late hour?"

At this, Yuuri turned away - his cheeks gaining a darker hue of red. He stuttered and stumbled before Viktor, until reluctantly settling.

"I was, I was actually heading to the gardens...and going through this way is the quickest route. The flowers bloom quite nicely this time of year and, well, I don't have enough time to see them during the day because of the duties I tend to here at the castle. Not that it's too much work for me! In fact, I think it's just the right amount! I'm very happy with my job here, don't get the wrong idea! Not-not that I assumed you would, your highness! I just, uhm, I just...wanted to..see the, uhm, the flowers..."

With every word, Yuuri got impossibly louder and quieter, faster and slower - all simultaneously. It was comical.

He came to a sudden stop, animatedly looking away from Viktor for the umpteenth time.

Viktor, however, made no sudden movements towards Yuuri, instead grinning smugly.

"I was heading to the the gardens too! Before you, uh, made a move on me."

To Viktor's sick amusement, Yuuri's head whipped around at record speed, his eyes enlarging and lips parting in disbelief and what Viktor assumed to be offence. But before the affronted male could respond to Viktor's slight teasing, the grin sported on the royal's features was replaced by a soft and hopeful smile, when he asked excitedly,

"Why don't we make it to the gardens together! You've captured my interest, Yuuri Katsuki, and I'd like to get to know you. And of course, thank you properly for stopping me before I walked into the guards. In return, I'll tell you a bit about myself, and I might just consider forgiving you for that stunt you pulled...

"...What do you say?"

---

...to be continued?

04.12.20 edit: just to avoid any confusion, i changed the arrangement of yuuris name from katsuki yuuri to yuuri katsuki for convenience purposes- so just bare that in mind if you're rereading this or likewise!

#yuri on ice #yuuri on ice #yoi #katsuki yuuri #katsuki yuri #yuri katsuki #yuuri katsuki #viktor nikiforov #victor nikiforov #viktuuri #victuuri #victuri #vikturi #royalty au #please have mercy on me this is like my first real fanfic- #yes i spell viktor with a k don't look at me #it just adds fl a v o u r ok a y ? #viktor x yuuri #viktor x yuri #victor x yuri #victor x yuuri #how do i tag this in so lost #help #send help #jsjsjsjsjsjsjsjs i

[sapphia]

alright so i don’t write fanfiction anymore and i haven’t even really been in this fandom for years, but if i was writing supernatural, here’s how the destiel thing would have played out: 

they gay plotline would happen about season 9-11, pacing wise. cas and dean are close and have a shared bond, and know each other pretty well at this point, but things haven’t started getting repetitive yet plot wise. the season big bad is irrelevant because lets be honest they’re all pretty much the same. 

dean and cas have spent their time in purgatory together, and i’d move the purgatory reveal flashbacks from season 15 into season 8 alongside the normal flashbacks. 

you have your usual series opener in episode one with the massive conflict semi-resolving but also setting up the season’s big bad. at this point in episode one, cas sacrifices himself for dean specifically, but also helping advance the “mission” - however, while one of them had to die to keep the other alive so the job could be finished, it could have been either of them, not necessarily cas.

this of course spawns a bit of emotional angst, with dean being hit pretty hard by cas’s death. there’s a hint that his reaction is more emotion extreme than say, bobby or jo’s death, but still a bit less than if sam had died - and also notably takes it harder than sam. this sets up the fact that cas is more than just a tag along to dean. 

cas will be brought back about episode 4 (method irrelevant), and there’ll be an emotional reveal, but nothing too out of the ordinary. everyone’s just happy to see him alive again. there’ll be dialogue specific to dean and cas, of course, but just your generic “glad you’re back/what happened while i was away” catch up

episode 5 will have no destiel content, but there will be a minor male character who sort of flirts with dean. dean doesn’t reciprocate, and is flustered, but also doesn’t reject him (perhaps because he’s flustered), setting the stage for dean-is-not-straight-and-has-repressed-bi-feelings, but this is pretty minor and easily overlooked. sam witnesses this moment.

in episode 7, you’ll have a cas/dean centric ep, where they go off and investigate either by themselves or in a way that has sam occupied and away from them for a lot of the episode. they have a mini confrontation early/mid episode where dean says cas shouldn’t have sacrificed himself, that they could have found another way, that cas should have been the one to complete the mission and dean to die. 

cas’s response here will hint at his thoughts in 15x18 regarding what dean’s done for him, but much briefer. he implies that he’d rather dean had lived; dean is a good man, and cas sort of “owes” him this because dean has helped him find his humanity. he doesn’t confess his love or anything, but the implication that cas feels love (of some sort) because of knowing dean is definitely there. 

dean should be a little uncomfortable at the raw emotions of this scene, and pulls back, though castiel will remain earnest and completely unbothered by dean’s difficulty dealing with what he’s saying

the episode continues, and the hunt goes as normal, but towards the end, dean gets injured (head or face wound). cas heals him easily, but there is a moment that lingers a little too long, with cas’s hand on dean’s face. dean is a part of it - he feels it too - but it freaks him out and he ends the moment, pretending it didn’t happen. they carry on packing up/continuing the hunt/whatever they were doing before, but the final shot of the scene is dean looking at cas and wondering - what the hell was that? 

this is going to be played out pretty slow over the series, so in between the core relationship developing episodes there’ll be normal monster of the week episodes with just your normal amount of destiel subtext. the episode following cas and dean’s moment, for example, (episode 8 and 9) will be your average sam/dean/cas hunt with nothing more than a couple of small moments between cas and dean where cas is perhaps a little too intense and dean pulls away, or there’s an awkwardness between them, especially from dean’s side. episode 10 doesn’t have cas in it at all,  because dean has made an excuse to separate himself from cas - i.e. dean jumps at the opportunity to give cas a task that means he’ll be hunting separately to him and sam

episode 11 will be a sam/dean hunt, but in the middle of the episode they find a clue/information that they need cas’s help trying to decode. sam suggests praying for cas to show up, and dean says well go ahead then. sam doesn’t make a fuss about dean not doing it himself (though he may be a bit surprised) and he prays to cas - but nothing happens. dean sighs and rolls his eyes, and says “cas, you there? we need some help” and cas appears. 

sam is (sort of) mock offended that cas comes when dean calls and not him, and cas says that he was busy and would have heard sam eventually if he’d tried praying again later, but dean has an easier time breaking through via prayer than sam (ala the “dean and i share a more profound bond” moment in season 5(?i think). like then, sam is mock offended, but isn’t really surprised. dean is keen to move the conversation past this and get cas’s help with the hunt, which cas provides, and cas decides to stick around to help fight the episode’s monster. 

the episode facilitates a scene where cas and sam are left alone on the hunt with some downtime to talk (perhaps because dean is avoiding cas) and sam brings it up, a bit curious - does cas hear dean better because cas pulled him from hell? cas admits he isn’t sure exactly what the reason is - perhaps it also has something to do with the way dean has affected him as a person. he finds that despite himself, he cares for dean more deeply than anyone else - and his feelings remain unchanged by the fact that dean seems to be avoiding him right now. but he finishes by saying he can’t help that his thoughts are more attuned to dean at all times, and that he finds himself thinking of him far too often, which probably leads to dean’s prayers finding him easier than other people’s. 

sam is pretty shocked/surprised at this - it sounds like cas is saying he’s in love with his brother. cas doesn’t confirm this explicitly, but sort of agrees, saying something along the lines of “that is a possibility”, as though he’s not quite sure. 

sam’s still processing this - can angels even fall in love? cas assures him that they can (maybe gives an example of another angel this has happened to) though it doesn’t happen often and has never really ended well. 

the scene ends either a bit awkwardly, with sam still being “oh my god what is going on” and castiel being earnest and sort of oblivious to sam’s shock, or with an attempt at lightheartedness from sam. the episode continues as normal, though sam now gets to hunt with dean and castiel with the new secret knowledge that one of them is in love with the other one and the other one probably doesn’t know. but he doesn’t really know what to do with that information, so he does nothing, just observes. 

episode 13 has no cas in it again, and it’s a sam/dean hunt. but here’s where it gets interesting - the monster is preying on men at a gay bar. 

the hunt they’re on has people going missing who have recently frequented the bar. one of the bartenders there is obviously gay, and flirts with dean a little bit during their initial questioning, even giving him his number at the end, which throws dean. sam sees the end of this interaction and notes it with amusement. 

they continue investigating - clues (or another disappearance) lead back to the gay bar, so they decide they have to check it out again. when there, they spot the same bar-tender again, and sam makes a joking comment that dean will probably get more out of him than sam will, so dean better go talk to him. dean does, and manages to be a bit more casual now he’s not as taken off-guard. dean gets the information out of him that he needs, but the conversation also hits more casual/personal territory - come comments are about what it’s like doing the job dean does, etc. dean might make a cryptic comment that hints about the supernatural nature of their work, not that the bartender would pick up on it, and answers in a way that’s both true to dean’s actual life but could be mistaken as being a thing an fbi agent would say. the bartender is less flirty during this conversation, but when he does make flirty comments, dean takes it much better and continues the conversation easily, and despite himself dean finds himself warming up to this guy. 

the hunt continues. in the early scenes, when sam and dean roll into town, dean will see two guys heavily making out outside the club, and looks away (in a prudish/not wanting to watch someone’s PDA sort of way). later in the episode, either right before the climax or right after, there will be a moment where dean sees another moment of PDA between two guys (possibly more of a sweeter scene, like holding hands, or canoodling), and dean watches for a moment, somewhat longingly. the episode won’t address it, but this is his moment where internally he starts wondering if maybe he wants that. 

the episode heads towards the conclusion when the monster takes another victim - and lo and behold, it’s our bartender. but dean and sam are getting close to finding it, and they hunt it to it’s lair. sam deals with the monster while dean rescues the bartender. it’s a generic rescue scene, and dean is very compassionate and reassuring, and the bartender is quite freaked out, as to be expected. the wrap up scene, where they take him home/back to his car/wherever, has him asking dean about what else is out there, and dean is honest - there are lots of creatures that lurk in the dark. but hopefully the bartender won’t see any more of them. if he does, here’s dean’s card - call him and dean will come. the bartender makes a joke about using it for a booty-call/to get a date with dean, and dean jokes back in a way that rebuffs that, but in a light and friendly manner. 

the series continues. there is one more dean/sam hunt and then a dean/sam/cas hunt. dean seems a little but more at ease with cas during this.

in episode 16, dean gets a call from the bartender. he picks up the phone and makes a joke about how this wasn’t supposed to be used for booty calls - before turning serious at the bartender’s answer. something is going down in that town again, and he wants dean to come check it out. dean promises he’s on his way and hangs up. 

sam is ready to go with dean, but dean tells him he’s going to go on his own. sam is surprised, but lets him. 

dean goes to the bartender’s town and investigates. something is going down, and this time the bar tender helps him along the way. there is an easy chemistry between the two of them, the sort of familiarity characters have when meeting dean and sam for the second or third time rather than the first. the bartender assists in the investigation, so is around dean a lot, and flirts with him on occasion. in contrast the previous episode, dean is much more at ease with it, he even flirts back a little at one point. but it could still all be in good fun - it doesn’t have to imply anything. 

3/4 of the way through the episode, before they go after and kill the monster, there is a slow/waiting/resting scene where dean and the bartender have the opportunity to just chat. they talk about the monster/hunting/the lifestyle a wee bit - and dean shows him something about the monster on the laptop, or in a book, or gives him a weapon and shows him how to use it - whatever it is, they get physically close for some reason. the bartender makes another flirtatious comment, and dean isn’t too sure how to respond this time. the bartender shrugs it off - it’s just some fun, he knows dean’s straight, it’s fine. 

dean’s mind is racing a hundred miles a minute, and he’s feeling an absolute cascade of emotions. maybe, he croaks out, maybe he isn’t as straight as you might think.

it’s pretty clear where this is going lol. they have a moment, they kiss, idk maybe they have sex, maybe it’s implied or left ambiguous. camera cuts away. 

when we come back to them, the plot has accelerated and it’s time to go after the monster (immediately, right now, before anyone can talk about what just happened). they hunt the monster, dean does the bulk of the work but there’s a crucial moment where bartender saves dean, mirroring the way dean saved him in his first appearance and allowing dean to finish the monster off. 

the wrap up/goodbye scene is a bit awkward, both not too sure where they stand, but there is a moment where dean admits that he liked what happened between them. but it’s pretty obvious it can’t continue - dean has to keep hunting, and the bartender is not here for that life - he likes all his limbs attached. they keep the door open though about seeing each other in future - maybe a comment about where dean’s based, and the bartender says he’s heading through that way in a month or so, maybe he can pop in and say hi, and dean agrees. 

dean goes back to the bunker, reconnects with sam who’s wrapped up his b-plot. dean is deliberately vague about the case details, and sam gets the feeling something’s off. then dean gets a call, and he takes it - but he’s squirrelly about it. 

sam’s suspicious and is worried something is really wrong. he follows dean and listens to his call - he hears dean say “hey [bartender]”, and the conversation that follows, which basically boils down to - the bartender is actually going to be in dean’s area next week instead, it turns out, maybe they could catch up, and dean says sure, but his brother is around, and dean hasn’t exactly told him about what happened or come out to him, so they have to be a bit on the downlow. he doesn’t want to seem sleazy, but maybe they could get a hotel room? cut to sam, looking pretty surprised lmao and sort of creeping away quietly, feeling bad for eavesdropping on such a personal conversation and now processing the fact that his brother is (he thinks) gay. 

ep 17 is a week later and  dean and sam are called to a case miles away - right when the bartender is supposed to visit. dean takes a private call where he regretfully tells the bartender he’s not going to be around - they won’t be able to catch up this time. this secretive behaviour reminds sam (and the audience) of dean’s secret. 

sam sort of spends the whole episode waiting for dean to come out to him, which doesn’t happen because this is still really new to dean and he’s not sure he’s ready for it. it’d be kinda fun/funny if they were fucking around with some sort of truth goddess or something, but regardless there’ll be opportunities for sam to poke dean about general things he might not be saying. sam also drops a couple of massive hints that he thinks gay people are awesome which dean obliviously ignores (or maybe starts cluing into towards the end of the episode). 

but by the time they’ve defeated whatever it is they’re hunting, dean still hasn’t said anything about being gay so while they’re in the impala diving home, sam’s like “you know, if you were gay, i’d be okay with it” and dean’s like “yeah i’m not gay” and sams like “I heard you on the phone with bartender, sounded pretty gay” and dean’s like “okay yeah we banged. but i’m not gay, i’m bi” and sams like “woah. and you never said anything?” and dean talks about how it’s sort of been coming on for a while now but he’s been trying to ignore it because he didn’t think he was that person, or maybe how there was something with a guy a long time ago but he repressed it, etc etc. and sams like “well that’s cool and you’re still my big brother, i still love you, that’s never going to change” yada yada and there’s an awesome emotional scene and they drive off into the sunset. 

BUT we still have the cas/dean plotline to wrap up in the last few episodes. sam know knows cas loves dean and dean’s bi but doesn’t know if dean loves cas and also doesn’t want to say anything in case he shouldn’t. but also wonders whether he should because it seems like dean might have feelings for cas, so as we head towards the final episodes sam keeps trying to push cas and dean into situations alone together but it’s not working very well, although they’re obviously really fucking close and sam can see just how much dean loves cas and cas loves dean but neither of them can actually see it, and eventually (like, one episode from the finale) cas says something implying quite obviously that he has feelings for dean and then leaves and dean’s totally oblivious and sam is practically banging his head against a brick wall out of frustration and just caves and is like “you know cas is in love with you, right?” and deans like “no” and sam is like “well he is. he told me” and dean’s like “whaaaaat” 

but there’s no time for dean to like, talk to cas about this, only a small amount of time where he processes his feelings for him (maybe like one scene together a but a third character is there the whole time, so dean can think about what sam told him, but can’t say anything to cas) and then the finale is really kicking off, and they’re fighting whatever the big bad is, and again there’s comes this point where someone has to sacrifice themselves and this time dean’s like “no cas i told you earlier, i don’t want you sacrificing yourself, this time it’s my turn” and cas is says “no let me, i want to do this” and dean’s like “yeah but i don’t want you to because i love you” and does the thing that should kill him

except at the last minute something else happens which stops that (sam like kills the big bad by taking it by surprise or something) and so dean doesn’t die (maybe he’s a bit injured though and cas has to heal him) and cas goes to him and there’s a very emotional scene where they elaborate on the love confession and kiss each other and sam’s like “i can’t believe a month ago i thought these men were straight”. 

and because this is supernatural something immediately goes wrong and by killing this big bad they’ve actually triggered the rising of the next big bad so there’s your plot for the next season you’re welcome, but hey now they’re gay together you’re welcome SPN writers please pay me to reboot your series in the way dean deserved. 

#supernatural #destiel #cw supernatural #fanfiction

[imbellarosa]

did someone say they wanted a small, sad SPN 15x20 rewrite (of sorts)?? it’s under the cut. the point of this is to show that they could have made it (mostly) tragic without making it Completely Pointless. this one’s for @queenlokibeth and @treatlouwithkindness who are grieving with me and for @dependsonwhospitching and @belgianreader2 who have been WATCHING me grieve for this fandom they knows nothing about and being the best kind of friends and also for anyone who asked what my writing looked like! this is a bit of an unbeta’d mess but here it is! 

They keep going. The road is in front of them, and they keep going, and they don’t stop until they run out of gas. Dean blasts Led Zepplin until his ears hurt, until his throat is raw from shouting the lyrics. He had forgotten that Cas had left his mixtape in the car last time they’d driven out. A trench coat, too, as it had turned out, a clean one. Guess Cas had gotten used to having his shirt ripped too many times to not have a spare handy. 

 (“Why would he not bring another one,” he had asked about Star Trek once, after Kirk’s shirt had been ripped again. 

“Not the point, Cas,” Dean had rolled his eyes and taken a swig of his beer.)

Sam looks at him like he’s worried, talks to him like he thinks Dean might spontaneously combust at any second. Dean tries to not feel offended. It isn’t like Sam’s wrong, but he wishes that they could act like everything was normal, for a second - like they used to, before Demons and Angels and Apocalypses, and trials and falling and flying. Eileen calls on the third day and shatters the illusion. It’s not that Dean isn’t happy to hear from her - of course he is - but it reminds him that he is acutely alone, and that it’s always going to be that way. They make a sharp U-turn, and start driving in the direction of the coordinates Eileen gave them. 

They stop in a small town along the way, meet some vamps ( “fuckin’ vamps,” Dean grumbles as he decapitates the last one), and keep moving west. Around Pontiac, Illinois, Sam stops the car and gets out.

“Dean,” he sighs, “what are you planning?”

“What’d’ya mean,” he replies, knowing exactly what he means. 

“Really?” Sam looks at him. “You want me to believe that Cas is dead and you’re just - what? You’re just accepting it? That it’s fine?” 

“It’s not fine, Sam,” he snaps, then takes a deep breath, and tries again, “it’s not fine. But what do you want me to do? Man, we just went up against God, and we won. Haven’t we learned that every time we play with these big, cosmic pieces that things just get more screwed? We can’t do that again, Sam, Cas wouldn’t want us to do that again. He’d want us - you - to get that apple pie life. So let’s just. Let’s do that for him, okay?”

“And what about you, Dean,” Sam doesn’t quite seem to believe him. Hell, Dean doesn’t really believe himself yet. “What are you gonna do?” 

“I dunno,” Dean rubs the back of his neck and looks at the trench coat in the backseat. “I’ll probably go back to the bunker, find a new job. Hit the road for a while” - he glances at Sam, who’s hair is almost long enough to tie into a bun - “you and Eileen could come with, if you want.” 

Sam sighs and seems to consider it, but Dean knows what he’s gonna say even before he does. Dean has always known his brother better than himself. 

“Nah,” Sam glances at him, then at his phone, and then at the sunset. “I think I’m gonna go try that apple pie life for a while. Or at least get as close to it as two former hunters can get.” 

“Yeah,” Dean says. “Thought you might say that.” 

“Hey,” Sam grabs his forearm. “If you ever need anything - help on a case, or a place to stay - anything - just let me know.” 

“Yeah,” Dean turns and faces his brother, and it feels like goodbye, even though he knows it isn’t. 

                                                              *

They reach Vermont - where Eileen had popped up - and met her in front of a bed and breakfast by a lake. She said that she just...appeared there one day, without a phone or money or a place to go. She’d borrowed the owner’s phone and called Sam as soon as she could, and had done some hustling for starter money. Sam stares at her like she’s a miracle, which, Dean supposes, he is. It’s the second time she’s come back to him, and Dean can see that Sam knows the absolute unlikeliness.

“What. Uh, what happened,” Sam clears his throat and tries to rub the tears out of his eyes. “How did it..how are you here?”

Jack, she signs, he said. He said that everyone should be with their families. 

��So, uh,” Sam looks at her like she’s going to disappear any second, “everyone’s...they’re okay?”

Well, she shrugs and smiles, and Sam had missed that mischievous glint in her eye, they’re all probably a bit confused, but we’re ..

”not dead,” she finishes verbally. Dean looks away, frozen like a deer in the headlights, or a boy lost in a crowd.

Sam grabs her and he hugs her and she’s small and slight, bones and edges and he can feel the outline of a gun hidden in waistband and he wonders how and when she got ahold of that, but mostly, he holds her and when he breathes in her hair smells a bit like apples. He doesn’t notice he’s crying until she pulls away and reaches up to wipe his tears. 

“It’s okay,” she says, and then signs, I’m okay. 

“I missed you,” Sam says, “I just. I missed you.”

I was gone for a week, she signs and rolls her eyes theatrically, what would you do without me? 

“Uh,” Sam gives a watery chuckle, “Let’s never find out, okay?”

That’s when Dean clears his throat. It’s not that he doesn’t love his baby brother, that he isn’t over the moon for him, because of course he is, but...

“Everyone’s back,” he clears his throat and checks his phone, “all of you?”

“Dean,” Eileen says, and her voice is kind. Dean thinks that he should learn more sign language. If she has to speak his language, he figures he should learn hers, too. And then he thinks that that sounds like something Cas would have said, and he looks back at Eileen, who’s trying to meet his eyes. 

“Is Cas...” Dean trails off, because he can’t ask the question - he knows the answer.

“He gave me a message for you,” she says, and she moves out of Sam’s arms to stand in front of him. “He wanted me to tell you that he’s okay. That Jack pulled him out.”

“So where is he,” Dean growls, turning away. Out of the corner of his eyes, he can see Sam interpreting, and it strikes him just how much Sam loves this woman - this woman who was one of them, who had fought beside them, who had made her way back to them. He faces her again. “Where” - his voice breaks, and he almost wishes Sam weren’t here to see it - “where’s Cas?”

“He told me,” Eileen continues, signing as she speaks, “he told me to tell you that he meant what he said. He said that he wanted to come back and see you, but that his son needs him. That your son needs him. He said that Jack might be God now, but he’s still his son, and he needs help now more than ever. That maybe God needs family, too, to remind him to be kind. Cas” - Eileen is crying now, too, she can’t help it - “Cas said that you’d understand that. That he’s going to be waiting, and that it’ll be sooner than you expect. He says that he’s gonna see you again, and that he knows. He told me to tell you that he knows what you were gonna say. And that he’s always going to...have his ears on. 

“I don’t know what that means,” she finishes with a small shrug. “I’m sorry.”

And so Dean does the only thing he possibly can do. He gathers his sister, and he hugs her, too.

“Yeah,” he says, letting go. “yeah, I get it. Thanks. That, uh. That means a lot to me.”

Sam looks at him with those puppy dog eyes he’d had since he was a baby and Dean waves him away.

“Oh, don’t do that,” he says loudly, “Come on, Sammy, let’s go start the rest of our lives.”

They turn back, and go inside the inn. 

                                                             *

“Hey Cas,” Dean whispers into the dark, the moon just a hang nail crescent shape outside his window. A new lunar cycle. He’s got twenty days ‘til werewolf time. He wonders if he’ll ever stop keeping time with monsters. “Eileen says you have your ears on, so. I mean, here’s hoping she’s right. Uh. I get it. Believe me, man, I do, Jack needs you. Hell, one of the last things I told him was that he wasn’t family and I was wrong - I was so wrong. Tell him. Tell him that I miss him, too. That he’s always gonna be my kid, you know? Even if he is all powerful now. 

“Um. But. I miss you. I know that you’re up there, and I’ll see you again but that’s gonna be years from now, man, and I just don’t know how to wake up and not see you in the kitchen trying to figure out how the coffee machine works. I don’t know how to watch a movie without looking over to see if you got the joke. Damn. So much for no chick flick moments, huh? Eileen said. She said that you knew and I didn’t have to say anything, but that’s how we got in this mess to begin with, so uh. Here goes, I guess. You gotta know that you’re it for me, man. I’m not as good with words as you are, but at the end of the day, I guess I always kinda thought we were gonna grow old together, you, me, Sam, in the bunker watching bad movies and finding new cases and just...making it up as we go along.

“I thought that one day you’d just...I don’t know. Move in with me, I guess? And that would be that. I thought we had all the time in the world, and then we had no time, and I didn’t - I froze. I’m sorry that I was a coward. I’m sorry that I didn’t say this - any of this - when you were here to hear it. But, uh. Hope you’re hearing it now.”

Somewhere, a bee hums its way back to its hive, singing in tune with a prayer. Somewhere, a boy laughs loudly, looking down at his little brother and thinking I will always keep you safe. Somewhere, a car moves down the interstate, music at full blast, driver high on life. Somewhere, a writer writes, and the world does not change at all. And, outside his window, Dean sees a falling star, and pretends that it’s an angel with a crack in their chassis, making their way down to find someone who loves them. When he falls asleep, he does not dream. 

                                                             *

Dean goes back to the bunker. It’s big and empty, but it was Cas’ home, and so it’s his, too. Sam and Eileen go back with him, but he knows they won’t be there for too long.

“This will always be your home, Sammy,” he says when Sam loads his boxes onto an old trailer of Bobby’s, because Dean’s trying to say all the words he feels out loud these days. 

“I know, Dean,” Sam says, even if he doesn’t, and then he hugs his brother tightly, not for the last time, but for the last time in this moment, as the people they once were. When they meet again they won’t have grown together, and so they will be strangers, in some ways. 

Maybe, Dean thinks, that’s how it’s supposed to be. He watches Sam and Eileen climb into the truck and head North, and he calls them at the end of the day to make sure they haven’t run into trouble.

“You don’t need to come save me yet, Dean,” Sam scoffs, but he’s secretly relieved that they’ll always have this, and so he doesn’t hang up until Eileen shoots him that look that says ‘I’ll murder you if you don’t hurry up’, and he’s more scared of her than Dean, so he hangs up and keeps driving.

Sam doesn’t stop driving until they make their way into Texas, into a small town with a house that sits on a large lot of land, and has a storm cellar in the basement. They raid the local grocery store for all the salt they can find, put rosaries into the water tanks, and then they start unpacking their boxes. Sam thinks that he’s never gonna be out, not really, but he’s not gonna be in either. He needs this for a while - the trees and the long grass and the woman beside him and nothing that goes bump in the night. He sends a quick thank you to Jack and Cas and thinks that maybe they can start to heal. 

                                                              *

Dean watches movies on Thursday nights. At first they’re movies that he meant to show Cas but never got around to: Lord of the Rings, When Harry Met Sally, James Bond. Then he gets around to watching those dumb nature documentaries Cas would always put on when he thought no one was paying attention - Dean was always paying attention, and now that he realizes it he just...he feels so damn stupid. But he watches them anyways, because he thinks Cas would have enjoyed it if he’d sat down with him and watched a thing about bees, just once.

“The things I do for you, Cas,” he says out loud every time he picks a new one. “Gotta admit, though, that David Attenborough - he knows what he’s talking about.” 

He tries watching a horror movie once, but it hurts, looking at the demons on the screen and remembering Meg and Ruby and Crowley and Lucifer and Michael and Cas. It always comes back to Cas. 

“I just miss you, man,” he says to his room, his car, his cup of coffee. He keeps the dog named Miracle, and he thinks that Cas would have liked that, and he takes him on walks every morning and pretends that Cas is with him.

“I got a call from Jody last night,” he says to no one, though he puts headphones on so that people who see him don’t think he’s all sorts of wacko. He could just be on the phone. He wishes he was on the phone. “She says that Claire and Kaia are getting really serious. Says they want to move out and start hunting together, and she wanted to know what I thought of it. Can you believe that, Cas? Told her to give her a bit of space, and remind her that she’s family. You probably would have said it better, but. It’s the best I got. I’m not used to this whole...talking thing yet, okay? Claire’s 21 now, Cas. I feel so old. Maybe I’ll invite Jody and Donna and them for Thanksgiving. Sam and Eileen, too, of course, but we have more than enough space in the bunker.”

Dean will never stop saying ‘we’. 

                                                           *

Sam has a kid and names him Dean and Dean cries for hours when he finds out. He calls Claire and tells her to drag her ass over for a visit next month, he knows she and Kaia are busy saving the world, but to not forget about him in the meantime, and she agrees and tells him to get his ass off the phone and enjoy his nephew. 

“You’d love this,” Dean tells Cas, “he’s such a good kid. He never cries. Sam and Eileen almost thought something was wrong with him, Sam even took him to a priest to have him checked over, what with the...you know. But nah. He’s a perfectly normal kid - or, as normal as you can be, if you’re Sam’s kid, I guess.”

Dean laughs, then sighs, looking around Sam’s house, how he and Eileen have built a life and then babyproofed it. Sam hasn’t hunted a single monster in over nine months, and the world is still turning, somehow. Ten years ago, he never would have believed it. But now, well. He has faith.

“Tell Jack I said hi,” Dean whispers to Cas. “Tell him I miss him, too, and that this kid is gonna know all about him - you, too, you know. I’m never gonna shut up about you.”

An owl hoots outside of baby Dean’s window, and Dean chooses to believe that it’s Cas laughing at him. 

                                                                *

He gets old. Every Christmas, he sets up a small tree, and at the top of it, he puts an angel with a blue tie and a trench coat. He takes up Bobby’s phone banks, and suddenly he’s got Sheriff’s from all over the country asking him if he’s agent “Swift” or “Spears” and every time he hears the names, he smirks and glances upwards and says, “Yeah, hello, who am I speaking to?” 

Big Threats pop up, and before long he realizes that he’s built quite the network of hunters to deal with it, that he no longer needs to hit the road himself. So he starts buying up classic cars, and he fixes them up. Chevy’s, BMWs, Fords, you name it, he buys it, then he restores and sells them, and uses the money from the sale to buy the next one. He puts the extra cash back into the network of hunters, making sure they have fakes, supplies, and a safe place to go if they need it. And so, over the years, the bunker becomes a sort of Hunter Hub. A home base. 

Sometimes, couples would leave their kids with Dean while they went out on jobs, and he would tell them stories of when he was young. He’d tell them of his brother, who had brought about and then stopped the apocalypse, of the demon who became a friend, about Ellen and Jo and the Roadhouse, how it had been a place like his for people who needed it, he told them about Bobby, the man who raised him and loved him even though they weren’t blood, and he told them about Kevin and Charlie who had been so young and still fought so bravely and taught him so much. He’d show them the postcards that Charlie sent him - was still sending him - from her and Stevie’s world travels. And, of course, he’d tell them about Cas. Always Cas. The angel who saved him from hell, who revolted against heaven for the sake of the whole world (for Dean’s sake, because he loved him), who became a man and kept fighting anyways, though he didn’t know quite how. He told them about Cas and Metatron and Cas and Lucifer and Cas and Naomi and Cas, Cas, Cas, everywhere.

Sometimes, when the children were older, he’d show them pictures to go along with the stories. A copy of the last picture he has of Jo and Ellen, standing there with Bobby and Sam and him and Cas and he tries hard not to think about how its just him and Sam left. He shows them pictures of Cas in a cowboy hat and Jack in stupid sunglasses. He shows them pictures of Sam and Eileen, even though they don’t visit very often. 

(”I can’t, Dean,” Sam had said. “I can’t raise my kid how dad raised us. I have to be out.”

“I get that, Sam,” Dean had nodded, “But this is my life. I gotta do this, not just for me.”

“I know,” Sam had said, and then, “Hey.”

“Hmm?”

“Love you, jerk.”

“Bitch.”

And they had laughed, and Dean would go to their house for Christmas and the New Years and they would go to his for Thanksgiving, and he would meet up with Sam once a month in a small bar in Oklahoma, halfway between Kansas and Texas, and it would be good. Dean would never have believed it, before, but this was...good.)

                                                             *

Dean lives ‘til he’s eighty two, and he never once stops talking to Cas as though he was still around. Sam still prayed, sometimes, but not like that, never like that. Dean, ironically, was the most devout person most people knew. He always said that a parent should have faith in their kid, and as his kid was God, well. He had no choice but to be faithful. When he was older, his neighbors would laugh - what a crazy way of looking at the world! Dean would smile and wave them off and put his headphones in, ‘call’ his partner, and walk his dog. 

He dies quietly, one night, and, in the morning, the hunters that had been staying in the bunker find him in his bed, smiling, with an old mixtape on the nightstand. They call Sam, who is an old man himself, and he calls his son (who has kids of his own, Sam can hardly believe it). Dean Jr. (DJ, he’d decided when he was seven, and stuck to it ever since) picks his mom and dad up and takes them to the bunker, where they wrap dean in cloth, build a pyre, and then salt and burn him. A proper hunter’s funeral for a man who never stopped fighting. 

Claire and Kaia are there, and they bring their kids. Sam hugs them, and presses the keys to the bunker in Claire’s hand.

“You keep this place up,” he tells her with a smile, “Dean would have wanted that.”

She’s older now, well in her forties - the same age Dean had been when he’d started to run his home like a hostel for hunters - but Sam still sees the eight year old girl who’d loved her dad so much she let an angel possess her. He thinks, our bodies, possessed by light, and then he thinks about Cas properly for the first time in many years. Take care of my brother, he prays, and then turns to Claire and leads her inside. They have pie together. 

                                                           *

When Dean opens his eyes, he’s in the bunker. He feels lighter than he has in decades: his back doesn’t ache and his joints don’t creak, and he hears someone bustling around in the kitchen. Probably Claire, he thinks, and then moves to sit up before noticing his own hands. The wrinkles that had become so familiar are gone. As are the permanent grease stains from spending so much time under the hood of a car. His old hunting boots are by the door, and a plaid overshirt is bunched in the corner of the desk, like it had landed there when he’d tossed it off the night before. But...he was pretty sure he didn’t own that shirt anymore. He can hear a radio crackling from the living room, playing Ramble On. He hasn’t listened to that song since...well. In a long time. 

Slowly, he makes his way down to the kitchen, and stops dead when he reaches the door. 

“I,” he starts, and his voice is young and strong and nothing like he remembers it being when he went to bed. 

“Hello Dean,” Cas says, and then the bacon catches fire.

“Woah,” Dean exclaims, rushing over and crowding the stove - it used to be like that, he remembers, between cases - Cas never could figure out how to cook and Dean would always end up shooing him out of the kitchen. Can’t have you killin’ us here, Cas, he would say, and finish the meal for both of them. Then they would sit, have a beer, and not say much of anything at all. Dean had almost forgotten. He turns down the stove, tosses the burnt bacon, and clears his throat. “Well, guess it doesn’t matter if you burn the food here, ‘cuz I’m guessing you can’t kill us.”

“No,” Cas agrees, looking very much as lost and disbelieving as Dean feels. “We’re already dead - or, you are. My condolences.” 

“Nah,” Dean huffs a laugh, “it’s okay. My life was pretty good, you know? But it was probably my time - way past it, even.” 

“Your life was remarkable,” Cas looks at him solemnly. “Thank you for sharing it with me.”

“You could hear me?”

“Were you not certain of that,” Cas raises his eyebrows. 

“I had faith,” Dean hip checks him, and smiles. “Thanks for listening.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t be there,” Cas says softly.

“Jack needed you, I get that. And look,” Dean catches his eye and grins, “here we are anyways. Not like death ever stopped us.” 

They cook in silence for a moment.

“How long has it been, for you,” Dean asks him.

“A week,” Cas shrugs and looks away. “Maybe two. Time moves differently here.”

“It was forty years, for me,” Dean says.

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“I’m not. My life....it was good, Cas. Maybe it wasn’t perfect, but I did alright. And I was never alone. I had family. I had you.” 

“Well,” Cas catches his hand and pulls it away from the new pan of eggs, “you certainly have me now.” 

The second pan of eggs burns, too.

#supernatural #15x20 #dean whinchester #no spoilers because i completely started over there haha #this isn't the happiest ending but this is more the ending i expected from them #so there you have it this is what i thought i was gonna get and then i didn't and id thought about it so much i decided to write it myself #maybe i'll put it up on ao3 who knows #i write sometimes #thats my new writing tag #SOMETIMES being the operative word #if i put this on ao3 i'll likely expand it a bit #but for right now this is 4.3k words that are all better than the finale even though no one has read this over for me lmao

[putschki1969]

Hi Sarah! How's everything going? ヽ(・∀・)ﾉ I wanted to ask you if you know of any interviews were Consolation (the song) is discussed. Also, what is your interpretation of the song? I was randomly going around YT and got to hear this amazing piece live by our utahimes and got curious about it. Hope I don't bother you, thank you in advance!~ヾ(・ω・)

Hi there!!

Sorry, my reply is long-overdue. This has been sitting in my drafts for a very long time. “Consolation” is hands down one of Kalafina’s BEST songs, I LOVE IT SO MUCH. Especially the live version from their 9+ONE tour. Everyone needs to check it out in case they haven’t yet.

Back when the album was released I wasn’t as involved in the fandom as I am now and my Japanese was also not that great so I didn’t really know of any interviews where they discussed the song in detail. I had also never really taken a close look at the lyrics before.

Oh well, I thought I would use the opportunity to dig a little deeper. After a quick search I came across two interviews that provide a bit of insight regarding the album and the title song. I also tried to delve into the world of the lyrics and see what I could come up with.

My simple interpretation based on my findings 〈(•ˇ‿ˇ•)-→

I believe the song is fundamentally about the dilemma of wanting two things that are mutually exclusive. On the one hand you wish to find peace, relief and consolation but on the other hand you are greedy and you cannot stop wanting more. Since it seems you can’t have both you resign yourself to finding solace in the suffering you are enduring while struggling to fulfil all of your desires.

Below the cut you can check out my interview and lyric translations〈(•ˇ‿ˇ•)-→

Repotama Interview

Re album title and concept: Humans are greedy creatures by nature. There is a constant struggle to fulfil one’s own desires and ultimately there is also a wish to feel a true sense of comfort and consolation. However, one can never reach a point of absolute satisfaction but we might find consolation in the fact that having needs and desires is the only constant in our lives.

Re song: Due to its “coined words chorus” the song becomes quite exciting for the listeners. Our three distinctive voices are heard very clearly, Hikaru expresses a “fierce energy and determination regarding the fulfilment of one’s desires” and Wakana changes the song completely with her soothing and comforting vocals conveying a sense of “finding consolation amidst your struggles”. The duality which is expressed through those two voices enables you to fully enjoy Kalafina’s singing power.

Animate Times Interview

Re album title and concept: Consolation, relief and satisfaction are usually seen as something that stands in glaring contrast to our desires but maybe true comfort and consolation can be found within the suffering we are enduring in our constant pursuit of happiness and our struggles to fulfil our desires.

Re song: ――The title song『consolation』 feels extremely passionate, hard and energetic. One of its charms is the use of rare words such as  「むごたらしい / mugotarashii / incredibly brutal」, something that might not work for other songs.

Hikaru：I sang this word with a sense of unease, like feeling trapped *laughs*

Keiko："This song is hard so you can’t just use ordinary words in it”, that’s what Kajiura-san told us smiling wearily, this was one of her main worries regading the lyrics *laughs*. The melody is dramatic and the overall sound feels hard and unforgiving. When we listened to the music track my first impression was, “oh my God, this is so hard, where am I gonna breathe?” Kajiura-san’s inspiration for the music is also heavily reflected in the lyrics so I guess that’s why she was seeking out words that are rarely used in everday life. She also opted to have lines that are neither Japanese nor English but instead Latin. We have had elements of Latin in our songs before but in this particular song we all thought that Latin would be a particularly perfect fit.

――The part where you sing ＜Quo Vadis Domine？＞ right? The passion of the song and the Latin really go well together.

Keiko：It means＜Lord／Where are you going?＞. Since this is the title song of the album I think that Kajiura-san chose the lyrics very carefully in order to encourage many different interpretations, the words are supposed to stretch one’s imagination. Initially I thought the words were very difficult but as time went by I realised that the words were actually quite simple and raw. People seek comfort and relief, in order to reach that goal we are living our lives filled with greed, always thinking, “I want this or I want to be like that”. Hikaru is the one embodying this determination, this bundle of desires with her fierce vocals. Wakana on the other hand is the one who is asking with her voice, “is there any relief or consolation awaiting me at the end of it all?” I think those two things come across very clearly in the song.  It’s been about a month since we have finished the album production, after talking with Kajiura-san and singing the song together with the other two members as well as singing it by myself I think I can finally say that I understand the meaning of it. Also, I think the song was very difficult for you Wakana, wasn’t it?

Wakana：Yes. I sang this without any boundaries which was quite fun but it was also very hard. There are parts of the song that make total sense and other parts that are completely inconsistent, as such the song feels very raw and human.

―― There is a sense of “self-contradiction”“, like you are stuck having to choose between mutually exclusive alternatives. ＜Yet the greedy heart keeps reaching out / Unable to give up / Until it sleeps, satiated / It’ll take the darkest path＞. These lines very clearly express this sort of self-contradiction, on the one hand you are greedily seeking something while at the same time you are hoping to find peace and solace. I guess that’s a very human thing to do.

Wakana：Kajiura-san told us,"comfort and consolation are the opposite of desire, aren’t they?” People are motivated by their needs and desires "because comfort alone does not provide satisfaction”.

English Lyrics (taken from the Consolation booklet, with a few minor alterations)

Breathing alone won’t make wishes come true Please grant me tears and sorrow So I may go in deeper

Your God, so brutally beautiful Loved only those that were destroyed utterly and furiously

Quo Vadis Domine? A voice that can hardly be called a prayer I know one day your wishes alone will be answered

To the base of the taut sky We carry our burden And walked in haste as if to run away

Slowly, the first stars Shed light on your way Glittering in the pale depth of the valley

Quo Vadis Domine? One day I hope you will find consolation But if the heart remains wanting It will be unattainable

Yet the greedy heart keeps reaching out Unable to give up Until it sleeps, satiated It will take the darkest path

The soul that wants to devour all Spit out the dream it had clung to And shouted, “have mercy on me!”

Quo Vadis Domine? One day I hope you will find consolation When all has been burnt to pieces I believe you will finally reach your goal

#kalafina #consolation #reply #Anonymous #lyrics #my translation #random musings #song analysis #thank you for this ask #I now appreciate the song so much more

[alexhogh7137]

The Battle Between Love and Fire-

Ivar the Boneless × Reader

Chapter two is here...

Chapter Three: The Letter

Chapter Four coming soon...

Word Count 1k

Warnings: none

____________________________________

Over the course of three days, you have been training your dragon's: how to breathe fire, how to catch their own food, and how to fly. Neith has had the most trouble with breathing fire, however, flying she has mastered. She flew the next day after she hatched, her brother's breathed fire the day after they hatched. You are astonished at how well your dragon's are doing and how different they all are. 

You sit Neith on top of the balcony and hand her a piece of meat. 

"Come on, try again little one." She looks at you and then down at her meal. "You can do it, Neith. If you want to eat it, blaze it!" She breathes smoke out of her mouth first, then looks up at you once more. 

"That's a good start! But this time, don't stop. Just keep going, Neith." She continues and continues until she finally breathes fire. You scream out so loud in joy that you startled Eldr and Ryuu who were resting on your shoulders. 

"Sorry boys...good job Neith! I am so proud of you, now eat up!" She squeaks and then eats her dinner. Afterwards, you feed Ryuu and Eldr their meals in which they blaze with no trouble, to which you are one proud mother of dragon's. You walk into your kingdom with your dragon's in your arms, with a smirk on your face.

When nightfall strikes England, you have no choice but to chain your dragon's so that they cannot have free rage over the castle. Your father gave you those orders so that your dragon's don't terrorize the people. You hate to do this to them but when you marry and have your own kingdom, you will no longer have to do this to your beloved dragon's. 

They look up at you, "I know, my loves. It is just til morning. You know the drill okay? I love you all so very much. I will see you when the sun rises." You walk back into your chambers with a heavy heart. You have had to do this for a total of four days, it hasn't gotten any easier. You ask yourself, will I have to do this to them even when they are older. If so, how? 

…

You pace back and forth in your chambers, thinking of what to do, who to go to. And then it hits you: write to the king of Kattegat, Ivar Lothbrok. You sit down at your table, get a piece of parchment and your pen and begin to write. As soon as you put that pen on the parchment, a butterfly lands on it, surely a sign from the gods.

To Ivar,

I am a Princess of Wessex, England. I was told by an ally of your's, King Harald of all of Norway, that he is prepared to strike my kingdom at any given time. He killed my mother in battle the last time he fought my family. I am coming to you to ask if you are willing to meet and perhaps strike a deal that favours the both of us. Please, you are my last hope. I hope to hear from you soon, my king.

Princess Y/n.

You take a deep breath and wrap the parchment in a secured bow and send it to Kattegat by your carrier. You pray to the gods to hear back from him as soon as possible, and on good terms.

__________________________________

"King Ivar, a letter came for you today."

Ivar looks up in confusion, "A letter?"

"Yes my king."

Ivar "Very well, give it here." He takes the letter from his hands and starts to unravel the bow. Hvitserk joins him to see what the letter intales. He reads it aloud and Hvitserk smirks at his brother.

Hvitserk "A damsel in distress…"

Ivar "I was wondering why king Harald has been so absent recently. And now we know why-"

Hvitserk "He was in a battle to take over Wessex I assume."

Ivar "He is King of all Norway, why does he need England so badly?"

Hvitserk "I don't know, brother. Greed perhaps." Ivar shakes his head in annoyance. "You should write to her, offer her our help. She seems desperate, he killed her mother for gods sake!" Ivar inhales deeply.

Ivar "And we know how that feels, don't we brother?"

Hvitserk puts his head down, slowly shaking it in agreement, "Yes."

Ivar gets up and walks to his chambers, that's right behind his throne. He sits down, grunting. Takes out a piece of parchment and begins to write.

Dear Princess,

I am sorry to hear about the loss of your mother, my brother's and I know your grief. Therefore, I am offering you my help. Come to Kattegat by noon in two moons time and I will see what I can do.

See you soon, Ivar.

Hvitserk comes in, knocking. "What did you say?"

Ivar "I offered my help. Harald wasn't always an ally, especially not anymore now that he is attacking Wessex for no apparent reason, killing innocent people."

Hvitserk "You have killed innocent people, Ivar."

Ivar "I have done no such thing! I have killed with good reason."

Hvitserk chuckles, "okay."

Ivar "Nonetheless, we will see this princess soon enough."

Hvitserk "Very good."

__________________________________

Two days go by and your news carrier comes to your chamber's while you play with your dragon's.

"A letter, dear Princess." Your heart starts to pound so hard that you can feel it in your feet.

"Give it here." You take it from his hands. You hesitate to open it for a few seconds and then open it. You read it and fall to your knees in relief. Your prayers have been answered. You are going to get help, the help that you have been needing for many years. Not only because of King Harald, but to also escape your father for a few days, maybe forever. Your dragon's look up at you, wanting your attention. Ryuu takes it upon himself to nibble off a piece of the parchment, alarming you.

"Uh uh, Ryuu. This piece of parchment is our hope. We will get out of here, hopefully to a better life. No more chains."

@hvitserkmarcosource @ivarsgoddess @youbloodymadgenius @ivarthebloodyking @desiredposion @jzr201 @a-mess-of-fandoms @heavenly1927 @ivarzeitgeist @herestherealproblem @kaitieskidmore1 @fadedprincess

#the battle between love and fire #alex hogh andersen #marco ilsø #ivar the boneless #hvitserk #vikings

[pauldron-pieces]

Perdita 'Aurelezra' Gentle's Backstory: From Elsewhere

Fandom: Dungeons And Dragons (5E)

Pairing: N/A, Perdita-Centric

Rating: Holy shit M.

AN: This is a hypothetical narrative scenario featuring original characters in a world created by my Dungeon Master. As usual, this is non-canon and I own nothing aside from intellectual properties specifically attached to Perdita Gentle. This installment is mechanically unsound in a multitude of ways and ignores certain important lore facets.

Applicable trigger warnings are listed inside. Enjoy!

Taglist: @sporadic-fics and @cookiethewriter!

Inspired By: The Little Mermaid Score: Bedtime and sleepmakeswaves: One Day You Will Teach Me To Let Go Of My Fears

[Perdita Gentle is a Warforged celestial warlock utilizing the Pact Of The Bastion homebrew, and her appearance can be found here!]

[!TRIGGER WARNING!: This installment contains multiple triggering scenes including vivid depictions of violence and brief mentions of character death. Stay safe!]

It came from elsewhere...

Amidst the hail of shooting stars peppering the landscape from the tail of the near-passing comet, something else arrived.

It was frail, fragile, spindly fingers clawing for purchase on the walls of the crater it emerged from. It did not make it much further than that, and it was discovered the following morning by two children surveying the damage in their family's garden.

Between the two of them, they propped it up, marveling at the chipped red gilding that coated its limbs. It stirred and they fled in a panic, running back towards the large house and calling for their parents.

×+×

Brand stared down at the crumpled mess of Warforged on his front terrace, an eyebrow raised. His two young children danced around his legs, alternating between pulling him forward and tugging him back. "This is the cause of all the fuss? This?" He asked incredulously.

"It moved by itself!"

"Aye, just as you move by yourself." The former captain commented dryly, ruffling his daughter's hair and utterly destroying the complex tangle of braids her mother had labored over. "You two lubbers have seen Warforged before, or have you forgotten?"

"Testin doesn't look like that!" His son protested. "Testin has a face!"

"You know how your hair is different from mine, pup? And how your sister's nose is less prodigious than this beak I sport? Warforged have such varied traits as well."

The head on the thing looked like an old Thanatonaut relic, just a smooth dome. It also bore archaic equipment for off-Flow navigation on the inside of its arms. Brand heaved out a sigh, smoothing a finger over his brown mustache in a meditative manner.

"Well, we can't just leave 'em out here. Ceere, have your mother ring Testin. And you, Kamer, are going to help me settle this poor rattler into one of our chairs out here." Brand rolled his eyes at how pale his son went, while Ceere stuck her tongue out at him. "Oi, chit, stop taunting your brother. Now shoo, and make sure your mother knows to tell Testin that it's important!"

×+×

Brand Gentle had made his fortune in his younger years as the eventual captain on a deep-space excavation platform. He had seen many odd things in his day, unearthed strange and unusual artifacts from times long gone by. Thanatonaut helms that predated mankind's fumbling into Flow travel, monoliths to terrible and forgotten powers; the refuse of man's advance into the stars.

Yet he had never seen anything quite like this. A Warforged birthed of a meteor, trimmed in battered red and gold like the veils of the Vespertine Order.

The former captain sat on his patio across from the mysterious Warforged, finally leaning forward in his chair after he collected his thoughts. "What is your name?" He asked quietly.

The thing ticked and whirred, and a hoarse voice answered, "I have no designation." A female voice.

Brand sighed heavily. He should have known it wouldn't be so straightforward. Beside him, Testin Awe cleared his throat. "Think back. Can you remember what happened before you woke in the Gentle's prize rose garden?" The hulking Warforged's tone was dry, blue eyes darting to Brand when he touched upon the sensitive subject. Brand was exceedingly protective of his roses.

More ticking. "Darkness." An odd shimmy of mechanics long unused as she tipped her head to the side. "I fell."

"I bet you did." Testin replied, then muttered under his breath, "Captain, she's battier than the Bakhroma Green."

Brand waved him off, giving the faceless Warforged across from him a tight smile. She cocked her head to the side again, and he got the unsettling feeling that he was being studied.

"I hurt your flowers. How can I fix them?" She queried.

Brand blinked. Testin, despite lacking an actual throat, seemed quite intent on clearing it today.

×+×

Calling her Perdita seemed to be a given. She was lost, constantly, wandering the grounds of the Gentle estate at all hours of the night and day. She had no physical needs, as was the custom of her race, so Brand saw no harm in her roving. She certainly didn't seem malicious, just curious in a blunt way.

Libertia, Brand's wife, took an odd shine to the spacey automaton. The former captain often found the woman chatting to her, trying to help her expand her ability for speech. Perdita was minimalist in her words, though she did eventually begin to speak more as the years passed.

Testin thought Perdita was a bit touched. "Still a little battle-rattle in that one." He had remarked privately to Brand, his craggy face oddly sympathetic for a Warforged. "Hard to shake sometimes."

Brand knew better than most folk that Warforged were more than adequate matches for their fleshy counterparts, and he took everything his old first mate told him as gospel. Testin was in agreement with Brand that the red and gold Warforged was decidedly not a threat.

"She just likes the flowers?" Testin asked suddenly one evening as he and Brand sat on the terrace. Brand nodded lazily, the smoke from his cheroot cigar twirling and arching through the air. "I don't get it, but...well, I guess you did have a penchant for gathering up the misfits." The gray-green Warforged allowed, his sidelong grin making Brand chuckle. "She's happy here, y'know. She mentioned it to me earlier. She thinks she's helping when you let her trim the bushes." His laughter was a rusty noise.

"She loves talking with Lib. Er, with may not be the right term. My wife could talk the legs off a table." Brand smiled fondly and Testin rolled those glowing blue eyes.

"Have you heard from Kamer at all?" The large Warforged changed the subject, frowning when the former captain sighed and shook his head.

"I'm not sure I should have sent him away for his schooling. What with the Empire gaining ground steadily, I'm uncertain how long the boarding schools will be safe."

"Hey, Kamer's smart. You know that. That kid won't get himself tangled up in anything. Besides, what the hell would the Empire want with a kid who's sole aspiration is to be an architect?" Testin tilted his head. "Now, Ceere-"

"Don't remind me, she's apprenticed to the Facturers now. Hopefully, by the grace of the gods, she'll put her tinkering tendencies to good use and stop destroying my beautiful skiffs." Brand groaned, putting his head in his hands.

"I mean, she's got great potential. Engine ripped itself apart in three different places."

"I'm well aware, you mechanical menace. It was my favorite Screamer class!"

×+×

Libertia was the one to suggest that Perdita consider taking up the habit of the Vespertine Order.

"You seem at peace whenever you come with me to chapel, Perdie." She commented one afternoon over tea. Brand raised an eyebrow at his wife, then glanced at the featureless automaton across the way. "Have you ever thought about joining the convent?" Libertia queried.

Perdita hummed thoughtfully. "I like the chapel. It's quiet. Makes me feel like I can stop moving." She offered a shrug. "I know I'm not...quiet." She was a much older model than Testin and her body tended to rattle or squeak at odd intervals.

"You don't feel like you can be still here?" Brand asked curiously.

"I am restless." The Warforged admitted quietly. "Some things help. The garden. The chapel."

Brand grunted, settling back in his chair and lapsing into thought. The Vespertine sisters were a formidable bunch, for all that they resided on this backwater planetoid. They seemed to have their proverbial fingers in a multitude of pies. He wasn't sure if he trusted them with his Perdie.

His mustache quirked up in a wry grin, realizing that he was thinking of the Warforged like she was one of his own children. "Do what you think is best, Perdie. Perhaps the quiet will help you sort yourself out. Gods know we tithe enough to the church, maybe in exchange for our continued generosity they'll accept someone a little less fleshy than their usual ranks."

He got the faintest impression that Perdita was beaming at him, her whole body haloed with a strange golden light. But Brand blinked and the light was gone. He shook his head at himself, vowing not to spike his afternoon tea so strongly next time.

×+×

When the Empire came to the planet years later, they struck without warning.

Evening prayer had just finished, the last fleeting rays of sunlight peering through the simple leaded glass windows of the chapel. Perdita sat docile in the pew, her head bowed beneath her veil.

"It makes me glad to know that you've found some sort of peace and purpose." Brand commented, the now-elderly man ambling up alongside her. "Never put much faith in this church business, myself. Give me the Flow and a nimble craft and I'm a content man."

"Captain." She inclined her head. She had heard his sentiment many times before.

"I'm surprised you haven't gone out to chart the world, my dear. Your cartographer's gear will get rusty!" The former captain teased, settling down into the pew and patting her arm. "Surely, the Vespertine sisters ought to be spread?"

"It is dangerous." Perdita sighed. "I am trying. The Ferrarium Empire-"

"Bah, belay that codswallop here." Brand groused. "Bunch of nobles in stuffed shirts with too many guns and not enough good sense. Stole my good boy away and turned him into a simpering buffoon." He bowed his head, touching his thumb to his left cheek and then his sternum. "Thank the gods his mother passed on before he made that terrible choice."

An odd whistling caught his attention, and Brand cocked his head. His hearing had been shot for years, maybe he was imagining the sound-

The windows abruptly exploded inwards as an impact rocked the ground. Sisters scurried this way and that in panic, their veils fluttering like butterfly wings as they ushered the last few stragglers out of the structure. Brand, his ears still ringing from the first bombardment, felt a second one strike outside. Perdita was stiff, unmoving in the pew, so he seized her hand and made haste for the doorway.

"Perdie, we cannot linger in this place!" He tried to snap her out of it, her deceptively-heavy form slowing their flight. "It's the Empire, Perdie, we have to--" Through the haze of dust rising, the former captain caught sight of a massive dreadnought's keel flying low overhead. Rage burned at his soul; why would they come here of all places? This was a planet of agriculture, not manufacturing!

Perdita tilted her head, and Brand knew that she must have noticed the ship. "What is that?" She asked, her voice ticking up slightly in query.

"That is something that should not have turned its eye upon us!" Brand snapped. "Why the devil would they-" There was shouting up ahead, and scattered pistol fire. "Martyr's malfeasance," the elderly man swore, "I ought to have known."

The Inquisitors had arrived, bearing overpowered arms and causing chaos as was their want. Brand managed to slip around the edge of the advancing line, searching the crowds for Testin's large form. His old first mate was nowhere to be seen and Brand's heart sank.

An Inquisitor loomed up out of the smoke in front of them, halting the former captain in his tracks. "Identify yourself, civilian." The armored man droned.

"Or what? You've already blown the chapel and convent to pieces!" Brand spat. "What could the Ferrarium Empire possibly want from a sleepy little colony planet?"

The Inquisitor's baton met the side of the elderly man's head with a dull thud, felling him with ease.

×+×

Brand started awake, hacking and wheezing as he inhaled ash. He sat up, ignoring the throbbing of his head. Where is-

"Perdita!" He yelled, struggling to his feet and cupping his hands around his mouth. "Perdie, where are you?"

The cobblestones underfoot had been broken and scattered by the mortaring, making the footing uncertain. The former captain stumbled forward over the rubble, continuing to call for the Warforged.

A shimmer of red and gold flickered through the hellish smoke up ahead, and he fancied it might be her habit. His suspicions proved correct as her frail form solidified out of the clouds of billowing dust and ash.

"Perdita!" Brand exclaimed gladly.

She turned slowly at the sound of his voice, that damned veil still flapping fitfully in the turbulent air. Beneath the gauzy shroud where her domed head was, the former captain saw something blaze to life. Eyes, hundreds of them, glowing through the fabric. Brand stopped in his tracks, uncertain of what he was seeing. That blow to the head must have rattled him, now he was hallucinating!

Her hand pressed to her chest over the long habit. "I am the bastion." Perdita said calmly, as though they weren't being bombarded by low-flying aircraft. "I am Vespertine, I am Alizarin, I am reborn. My name is Aurelezra, and I fell to defend."

A shell plummeted from the sky and with a single motion, she obliterated it. One moment it was there, the next, she simply pointed at it and a shimmering golden manifestation that resembled an enormous rose blossom appeared directly in its path. The shell struck it, the impact sending foiled shrapnel flitting listlessly to the ground.

Brand was wholly bewildered. The only other time he had witnessed such power was when-

The thousands of eyes swiveled to stare at him, blinking rapidly. Brand swallowed hard. "What did those blasted nuns do to you, Perdie?" He asked, his voice so low he wasn't sure if she would hear it over the pandemonium.

Perdita tipped her head to the side, those eyes writhing and teeming nauseatingly over one another, flickering through the habit in a way that made Brand exceedingly glad she was wearing it. "I am the bastion." She repeated. She sounded hideously serene. "I am Alizarin."

Rifle reports barked through the air and Perdita turned towards the noise, setting off over the debris with sure steps. "Wait, Perdie!" Brand protested, fumbling after her as best as he could. "Perdie, are you mad? These are Inquisitors, you can't just..." He trailed off as he watched her simply walk through the line of gunfire. "Or perhaps you can." He muttered.

A strange golden haze shone around her body and every time a bullet struck the haze, a malevolent eye roiled to the surface to fix the attacker with a blazing stare. More shells rained down and each one was foiled or thrown off-target by shimmering, sunset-hued roses, blossoming riotously to life in midair like some grand fireworks display at a midsummer fair.

"Captain!" That was Testin's voice, thank gods. The elderly man turned this way and that, breathing a sigh of relief when he finally spotted the towering mass that was Testin.

"Testin my boy, you're a sight for sore eyes!" Brand said with a wry grin, taking in the small cluster of nuns that were teeming anxiously in the shadow of the massive automaton. Among them was the Mother Superior, her black veil a stark contrast to the usual red. "You've got some explaining to do, woman! What the hell have you done to my Perdie?" Brand thundered, itching to shake her until her teeth rattled.

"Sister Perdita has spent many, many hours reading the scriptures and studying our texts, Captain Gentle." The woman replied, almost infuriatingly calm. "She was brought to this planet for a specific reason."

"What are you on about? Look at her! It's like she's possessed!" The elderly man shouted.

"She has become more, Captain. A vessel for something that we mere mortals have only glimpsed. Alizarin, the Red Saint."

"There's a thousand blasted eyes all over her and she's sending out starbursts of roses that intercept cannon fire!" Brand roared. "I'll only ask once more, what have you done to her?"

"She willingly accepted this power, Captain. I suggest you calm yourself. I know you do not believe or trust in the power of the Red Saint, but Sister Perdita does." The matron retorted haughtily. "And when Libertia was alive-"

"Keep my wife's name out of your mouth." Brand snarled, his hand instinctively twitching down towards his hip for the piece he had carried in his younger years.

"Easy now, Cap." Testin intoned, raising a hand. "Easy."

"You planned this from the start." Brand accused the woman, a sick sense of realization blossoming in his gut. "You put the idea in Libertia's head, didn't you? Why Perdie?"

"Warforged make excellent vessels." The Mother Superior said simply.

Testin rumbled in threat overhead, one large hand settling heavily on the woman's shoulder. "I suggest you choose your next words very carefully." The Warforged paladin's tone was one of extreme irritation. "Unless you'd like to find out how bad of a vessel I can be."

"She has become a warlock of exceptional power." The woman hurriedly continued. "The Red Saint is pleased with our offering, and he will-"

"The Red Saint, aye? Unwilling martyr himself." Brand scoffed. "You've gone and turned my girl into a nightmare for the glory of that flayed demagogue."

"A nightmare that can go toe-to-toe with Inquisitor gunsmithing." The Mother Superior shot back smugly. "You knew as well as I did that it was only a matter of time before the Ferrarium Empire turned their gaze to the Fringes. Their grasping for resources is ceaseless."

"As interesting as your bickering is, we're wasting time." Testin growled, gesturing vaguely forwards. "She's gaining on their dreadnought. We following her?"

×+×

Everything was so loud.

"It is time, Aurelezra." His voice was like smoke, like whispers. He drew her attention upwards to the ship, He guided her hands as she wove the spell and He found her the suitable target. "They will not take this planet. They will never take again."

Perdita nodded shakily, power dripping and sparking from her fingers. "Never again."

"You have done well, Aurelezra. You easily outstrip the mortals." He praised as she raised her hands. "I shall do such wonders through you."

×+×

Without warning, a bolt of red light shot from Perdita's hands and arced up at the command ship. Testin swore loudly, the Warforged's face twisting into an approximation of a grimace. "Oh, that's not good." He said hoarsely, leaving the cluster of nuns behind as he moved forward.

"What, what's happened?" Brand asked frantically, trying to keep up.

"That was something that uh, I wouldn't have used. A little too spicy for me." The Warforged grunted, readying the hand cannon integrated in his left forearm. His heavy, elephantine feet easily crushed the rubble beneath him, clearing the way for the former captain. "If everyone on that ship isn't dead after that spell hits..."

"What?" Brand gasped.

Testin shook his head mournfully, not finishing that trail of thought. "We need to figure out where the ship will go down. Figure out whether we can break it apart ahead of time or whether your Perdie has a few more Red Saint tricks up that veil." Testin's sigh was heavy. "I'm sorry, Captain."

The command ship began rapidly losing altitude, listing slightly to the right. Perdita pursued it doggedly and Brand watched her raise her hands again. "Perdie!" He shouted, heartened when she paused. "Stop, Perdie!"

"Stay put!" Testin yelled, then said, "Cap, either get onboard or get left behind, we don't have time for your old bones."

Brand growled something uncharitable about his former first mate, then swung up onto the pro-offered arm.

Testin sprinted forward, easily catching up to the waifish Perdita and grabbing her around the waist with one massive hand. "I'd like to shake the marbles clean out of your chest right now, but we don't have time for me to be pissed off at you." Testin snarled at her, still at his full sprint. "You got anything else in that arsenal of yours, or are you gonna' let that ship crush someone's farm?"

"I can do it."

"What, exactly?"

Perdita pointed upwards at the ship and simply said, "shatter." A massive golden rose exploded into being on the keel, blowing a hole in the hull the size of the town square. Splinters and beams rained down, Testin barely managing to dodge a few of the larger chunks.

"Martyr's malfeasance, you're a menace!" The larger Warforged said in disbelief, the cannon in his left arm whirring to life as the ship sank within his range. "I mean, keep it up, but saint's blood you are an absolute terror." His cannon glowed, shoulder tight when he fired and sent the projectile rocketing upwards to erupt in a radiant blast. "Not fancy, but any port in a storm." He huffed, trying to chamber another round without releasing Perdita.

"There's so much." Perdita was shaking in Testin's grip. Molten gold trailed from her fingertips and every eye that shone through the veil was wide open.

Brand clambered across Testin's shoulders, the elderly man reaching out so he could grab one of her hands. "Listen to me, Perdie." He said loudly, trying to make sure she could hear him over the rapidly-approaching creak of timbers and warning system alarms. "You've got some kind of hellfiring power now, right?"

Perdita nodded slowly. "He's so loud." She breathed, and Brand knew with crushing certainty that she wasn't talking about himself or Testin.

"Aye, I'm sure he is. But if he wants to have you as his vessel, he needs to understand that you're the captain." Brand reasoned fiercely. "You bite back at that freeloader and you tell him you're the damned captain, you hear me girl?!"

×+×

I'm the captain.

Perdita clung to the thought, staggering through the red haze of her subconscious.

I'm the captain.

Alizarin nodded in acquiescence. "That you are, Aurelezra. For now. For this moment. What will you do?" He chuckled. "You are unfamiliar with such power. You have already overdrawn yourself. What will you do, Defender?"

It doesn't matter whether I'm tired. I'm the captain. Me. Not you, she thought stubbornly.

×+×

Perdita clawed her way up Testin's arm to his shoulder, the larger Warforged rumbling in confusion. "What the hell are you doing now?"

"I'm the captain." Perdita said sharply. Blast after golden blast was flung by her hand, the ship groaning under the assault. Timbers cracked and creaked like the ship was caught in a ferocious gale. "I'm the captain!" She yelled, "I'm the captain!"

The dreadnought rent itself apart at the scuppers with one final impact, briefly looking like the massive ribcage of some eldritch horror. The engines tore free of their mooring, the shriek of metal heralding doom for the trio as they plummeted downwards. Testin tried to backpedal, but he had built up such a head of steam and the engines were so enormous-

Brand fumbled to catch Perdita's hand once again, closing his eyes as he heard Testin grit out what he assumed was his final swear.

Looks like I'll be home soon, Lib.

"A Bastion for my faithful." That was not Perdita's voice. It was barely a whisper, smooth as silk and light as a favorable breeze. "Blessed are you, Brand Gentle, for you have seen my power once before. Blessed are you, Brand Gentle, for you have survived my power once before. Blessed shall you be, Brand Gentle, though you do not believe."

A golden dome sheathed the triumvirate of individuals, millions of eyes scattered across it opening and closing at random. Brand gripped Perdita's hand as tightly as he dared, uncertain if he was the only one seeing this...wonder.

"Fear not, Brand Gentle. She will not be harmed."

The dome vanished and Testin fairly seethed with curses, the gray-green Warforged reeling back a step from the flaming wreckage of the engine that surrounded them. A neat circle had been sheared out from the dome, the edges still molten and smoking.

"That's it. Whatever's gotten into you, I'm tearing it out of you!" the paladin announced, grappling Perdita around the waist again. "Send that cosmic bastard back to the Deep Reef where it belongs, I-" He paused when she went limp in his hold, lowering his glowing right hand after a moment. "Uh...Perdie?" He asked warily, shaking her until she rattled. "Perdie?"

"I'm the captain." She responded, her voice reedy with exhaustion. Perdita reached out to Brand, and he carefully laced his fingers through her own. "I-I'm the...captain..."

"Aye child," Brand murmured, "that you are."

×+×

The whole colony banded together to scuttle the dreadnought's bones. The Vespertine sisters made themselves marvellously useful when it came to putting the dead to rest.

Most of the ship's crew had been slaughtered by whatever Perdita had done with that spell, and the few left alive had perished on impact.

Testin had grunted in satisfaction as he surveyed the red veiled sisters scurrying to and fro in the wreckage. "I think your Perdie just fired the galaxy's largest warning shot."

"Aye." Brand had agreed wearily. "Now all that's left to see is whether the Empire will take notice."

"Their dreadnoughts aren't usually...destroyed, Captain. Once word gets back to them, all hell's going to break loose." The Warforged predicted grimly, his arms folded over his chest. "You'd better make sure she clears atmosphere before they come back around."

"I don't think I could make her stay!" The former captain chuckled. "She's always been on the move, Testin. High time she did something with all that energy."

×+×

"The Gotengo has been moored for years, Captain. You think it can still hold up?" Testin mused, poring over the old schematics.

Brand sighed, raking a hand through his hair. "It's the finest craft I have at my disposal, dusty or not. And she'll need something nimble if she's planning on trekking out there through the blockades." He meandered to the window of his study, staring down at his rose garden without actually seeing it. "I've already gotten in touch with Squire Deering, and he claims he's found a slew of candidates for her crew."

Testin snorted in disbelief. "And you trust that penny-pinching miser? Guy probably trawled through three different wharfside taverns and asked for able-bodied seamen."

"Deering may be a...bit tight fisted, but he's a good man. I have great faith that when Perdita arrives, she'll be shown nothing but courtesy." Brand assured the gray-green Warforged, stroking his mustache.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but I distinctly remember that waistcoat-wearing ponce saddling you with a ship that had a rotted out mainmast." Testin deadpanned. "What did he blame it on? Moths?"

Brand coughed awkwardly, clearing his throat. "Regardless, he will treat her right. Warforged or not, she's the captain."

"A new Captain Gentle." Testin shook his head ruefully. "Never thought I'd see the day. Bodes pretty shit for the Empire, if you ask me."

"All I hope is that she and that blooded saint first mate of hers give them hell."

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