#the betrayal in crossroads... only for him to sacrifice himself for her...

[veenaspakistanlitblog]

Ten Interesting Pakistani Novels

Under the Persimmon Tree by Suzanne Staples (Summary by Amazon)

Najmah, a young Afghan girl whose name means "star," suddenly finds herself alone when her father and older brother are conscripted by the Taliban and her mother and newborn brother are killed in an air raid. An American woman, Elaine, whose Islamic name is Nusrat, is also on her own. She waits out the war in Peshawar, Pakistan, teaching refugee children under the persimmon tree in her garden while her Afghan doctor husband runs a clinic in Mazar-i-Sharif, Afghanistan. Najmah's father had always assured her that the stars would take care of her, just as Nusrat's husband had promised that they would tell Nusrat where he was and that he was safe. As the two look to the skies for answers, their fates entwine. Najmah, seeking refuge and hoping to find her father and brother, begins the perilous journey through the mountains to cross the border into Pakistan. And Nusrat's persimmon-tree school awaits Najmah's arrival. Together, they both seek their way home.

2.) The Diary of a Social Butterfly by Moni Mohsin (Summary by Amazon)

This is the hugely entertaining journal of a socialite in Lahore. Pakistan may be making headlines - but Butterfly is set to conquer the world. 'Everyone knows me. All of Lahore, all of Karachi, all of Isloo - oho, baba, Islamabad - half of Dubai, half of London and all of Khan Market and all the nice, nice bearers in Imperial Hotel also...No ball, no party, no dinner, no coffee morning, no funeral, no GT - Get-Together, baba - is complete without me.' Meet Butterfly, Pakistan's most lovable, silly, socialite. An avid party-goer-inspired misspeller, and unwittingly acute observer of Pakistani high society, Butterfly is a woman like no other. In her world, SMS becomes S & M and people eat 'three tiara cakes' while shunning 'do number ka manual. 'What cheeks!' as she would say. As her country faces tribulations - from 9/11 to the assassination of Benazir Bhutto - Butterfly glides through her world, unfazed, untouched, and stopped short only by the chip in her manicure. Wicked, irreverent, and hugely entertaining, "The Diary of a Social Butterfly" gives you a delicious glimpse into the parallel universe of the have-musts.

3.) Maps for Lost Lovers by Nadeem Aslam (Summary by Amazon)

If Gabriel García Márquez had chosen to write about Pakistani immigrants in England, he might have produced a novel as beautiful and devastating as Maps for Lost Lovers. Jugnu and Chanda have disappeared. Like thousands of people all over England, they were lovers and living together out of wedlock. To Chanda’s family, however, the disgrace was unforgivable.  Perhaps enough so as to warrant murder. As he explores the disappearance and its aftermath through the eyes of Jugnu’s worldly older brother, Shamas, and his devout wife, Kaukab, Nadeem Aslam creates a closely observed and affecting portrait of people whose traditions threaten to bury them alive. The result is a tour de force, intimate, affecting, tragic and suspenseful.

4.) A Season for Martyrs by Bina Shah (Summary by Amazon)

October 2007. Pakistan’s former Prime Minister Benazir Bhutto returns home after eight years of exile to seek political office once more. Assigned to cover her controversial arrival is TV journalist Ali Sikandar, the estranged son of a wealthy landowner from the interior region of Sindh. While her presence ignites fierce protests and assassination attempts, Ali finds himself irrevocably drawn to the pro-democracy People’s Resistance Movement, a secret that sweeps him into the many contradictions of a country still struggling to embrace modernity. As Shah weaves together the centuries-old history of Ali’s feudal family and its connection to the Bhuttos, she brilliantly reveals a story at the crossroads of the personal and the political, a chronicle of one man’s desire to overcome extremity to find love, forgiveness, and even identity itself.

5.) Karachi, You’re Killing Me! by Saba Imtiaz (Summary by Amazon)

Ayesha is a twenty-something reporter in one of the world’s most dangerous cities. Her assignments range from showing up at bomb sites and picking her way through scattered body parts to interviewing her boss’s niece, the couture-cupcake designer. In between dicing with death and absurdity, Ayesha despairs over the likelihood of ever meeting a nice guy, someone like her old friend Saad, whose shoulder she cries on after every romantic misadventure. Her choices seem limited to narcissistic, adrenaline-chasing reporters who’ll do anything to get their next story—to the spoilt offspring of the Karachi elite who’ll do anything to cure their boredom. Her most pressing problem, however, is how to straighten her hair during chronic power outages. Karachi, You’re Killing Me! is Bridget Jones’s Diary meets The Diary of a Social Butterfly—a comedy of manners in a city with none.

6.) How It Happened by Shazaf Fatima Haider (Summary by Amazon)

Dadi, the imperious matriarch of the Bandian family in Karachi, swears by the virtues of arranged marriage. All her ancestors including a dentally and optically challenged aunt have been perfectly well-served by such arrangements. But her grandchildren are harder to please. Haroon, the apple of her eye, has to suffer half a dozen candidates until he finds the perfect Shia-Syed girl of his dreams. But it is Zeba, his sister, who has the tougher time, as she is accosted by a bevy of suitors, including a potbellied cousin and a banker who reeks of sesame oil. Told by the witty, hawk-eyed Saleha, the precocious youngest sibling, this is a romantic, amusing and utterly delightful story about how marriages are made and unmade---not in heaven, but in the drawing room and over the phone.

7.) A Case of Exploding Mangoes by Shazaf Fatima Haider (Summary by Amazon)

Intrigue and subterfuge combine with bad luck and good in this darkly comic debut about love, betrayal, tyranny, family, and a conspiracy trying its damnedest to happen. Ali Shigri, Pakistan Air Force pilot and Silent Drill Commander of the Fury Squadron, is on a mission to avenge his father's suspicious death, which the government calls a suicide.Ali's target is none other than General Zia ul-Haq, dictator of Pakistani. Enlisting a rag-tag group of conspirators, including his cologne-bathed roommate, a hash-smoking American lieutenant, and a mango-besotted crow, Ali sets his elaborate plan in motion. There's only one problem: the line of would-be Zia assassins is longer than he could have possibly known.

8.) Home Fire: A Novel by Kamila Shamise (Summary by Amazon)

Isma is free. After years of watching out for her younger siblings in the wake of their mother’s death, she’s accepted an invitation from a mentor in America that allows her to resume a dream long deferred. But she can’t stop worrying about Aneeka, her beautiful, headstrong sister back in London, or their brother, Parvaiz, who’s disappeared in pursuit of his own dream, to prove himself to the dark legacy of the jihadist father he never knew. When he resurfaces half a globe away, Isma’s worst fears are confirmed. Then Eamonn enters the sisters’ lives. Son of a powerful political figure, he has his own birthright to live up to—or defy. Is he to be a chance at love? The means of Parvaiz’s salvation? Suddenly, two families’ fates are inextricably, devastatingly entwined, in this searing novel that asks: What sacrifices will we make in the name of love?

9.) She Loves Me, He Loves Me Not by Zeenat Mahal (Summary by Amazon)

Zoella didn’t know whether she was devastatingly happy or happily devastated. Zoella has been in love with Fardeen Malik, her best friend’s gorgeous older brother, since she was ten, but he’s always seen her as a ‘good girl’—not his type—and he can barely remember her name. Besides, he’s engaged to a gorgeous leggy socialite, someone from the same rarefied social strata as the imposing Malik family. In short, Zoella has no chance with him. Until a brutal accident leaves Fardeen scarred and disfigured, that is. Suddenly bereft of a fiancée, Fardeen is bitterly caustic, a shell of the man he used to be, a beast that has broken out of the fairy tale world he once lived in. And a twist of fate lands him his very own beauty—Zoella. This man, however, is a far cry from the Fardeen of her dreams. Stripped of her illusions, Zoella creates her own twist in the fairy tale, beating him at his own game. Order now and read this modern, unusual interpretation of the old-age fairy tale, in which Zeenat explores the themes of love, longing, and arranged marriages.

10.) Undying Affinity by Sara Naveed (Summary by Amazon)

Twenty-two-year-old, Zarish Munawwar, has everything in life she could ever ask for; an elite family, a high profile status, a bunch of good friends and a childhood sweetheart. Being childish, stubborn, imperious, extravagant and a bit impulsive at making important decisions pertaining to her life, is what perfectly describes her overall personality. She takes life easily and can get anything she desires. To her, life is a bed of roses. It is only when she meets, Ahmar Muraad, her mentor and finance professor at university, her perspective towards life completely changes. He looks quite young for his age as every girl at the university thinks he is attractive, seductive, intellectual and rather intimidating. This charming man is every girl's fantasy and Zarish also finds it hard to resist him. But is he fascinated by her? Little did Zarish know how one little interaction could bring about so many twists and turns in her life. After continuous unsuccessful attempts to avoid him, she feels that she is gradually falling for his charm. Ahmar, however, remains oblivious to her feelings. She is ready to abandon her childhood sweetheart for him. Eventually, there comes a time when only he matters to her and nobody else. Awestruck by the sudden revelation, she is dazed to find out that he feels exactly the same for her. Before their love blossoms, a slight tragedy falls into their lives. Zia Munawwar, her father, has some other plans for his daughter. Will Ahmar fight against the world for his lady love or step back? Do not miss this romantic tragedy as it will encapsulate you totally and will stay in your heart forever

[misstrashchan]

Pyre/Greedling Meta:

I remember in the earlier volumes that a fair amount of people in the FNDM would compare Cinder to Lust from Fullmetal Alchemist, due to her femme fatale persona and voice seeming like an impression of Laura Bailey's Lust.

But as we learn more about Cinder and meet Salem in vol4, it's very clear that the version of herself she likes to present herself as is meant to come across as an impression, an imitation. Because she's trying to imitate Salem, the person who defines what power is to her.

And as that facade crumbles and we slowly start to see how deep Cinder's desires really run, it's far more clear to me that her character and story have much more in common with Greed, not Lust.

:read more:

Greed is the only homunculi who is willing to follow his deepest desires to the fullest, regardless of where that placed him. He was certainly willing to do evil, but wouldn't if that evil didn't personally benefit him. And, over time within the series, Greed comes to realise that his obsession with power, glory and seeking to become God, were nothing more than vain attempts to cover up his true emotional emptiness caused by a lack of connecting to others. And once he finds a cause and people to support who help and support him in turn, his character arc finishes with him, Greed, looking on all that he has, his friends, and is grateful. Content.

Which ties into the lesson of the Fall Maiden in the Tale of the Four Maidens in which Fall begs the Hermit to look around at all he has and be thankful. To be satisfied and content with oneself, which is a lesson Cinder has to learn in order to truly become a Fall Maiden.

Greed's desires are similar to Cinder's own ambition for power driven by her fear and insecurities, seeking to become a "godlike maiden badass" wanting to fill the emptiness and craving she feels, not yet realizing that this will not be what brings her true satisfaction to her, well, greed.

"Greed may not be good, but it's not so bad either. You humans think greed is just for money and power! But everyone wants something they don't have"

"You Atlas elites are all the same! You think hoarding power means you'll have it forever. But it just makes the rest of us hungrier! And I refuse to starve"."

I think it's very important to point out that Greed doesn't become good or redeem himself because he sees the error of his ways and wants to atone for the things he's done, rather he starts on the path to redemption by refusing to be a pawn to Father any longer, when realizing the power and glory he craves he wouldn't be able to obtain by staying and working underneath Father like the rest. His greed and dissatisfaction are what motivates him, though it is ultimately Ling who gives him the final push and convinces him to side with the protagonists.

And Cinder at the end of vol7 seems to be heading towards a crossroads of whether or not she'll stay with Salem, given how the Grimm arm that was "gifted" to her by Salem seems to be slowly consuming her body, she might have doubts about whether the kind of power Salem has promised her is really the kind of power she wants, and whether she's prepared to sacrifice herself to obtain it, or whether she could choose to strike out on her own. Again, some villains start on the path to redemption solely out of self interest.

It's also not just Greed's story I think Cinder's is remarkably similar to, but the stories of Ling and Pyrrha and the role they play in Greed and Cinder's stories, as their souls and stories are intrinsically intertwined.

The ouroboros tattoo and its meaning was the first thing that caught my attention, as it the ouroboros symbol represents eternal cyclical renewal. Of life, death and rebirth. And how that aligns with Pyrrha's incantation used to unlock Jaune's aura:

"For it is in passing we achieve immortality. Through this we become a paragon of virtue and glory to rise above all. Infinite in distance and unbound by death, I release your soul, and by my shoulder, protect thee"

Cinder also has a tattoo of her own symbol that appears after connecting to Amber's soul and taking half of her power, just like the ouroboros tattoo appearing after Greed and Ling's souls were intertwined and he had taken over his body. Cinder takes the other half of the maiden powers after Pyrrha had been bound to them as her and Amber's aura were intertwined, making it likely that Pyrrha is a part of Cinder in the same way Greed and Ling are.

Both Pyrrha and Ling are considered to be people in positions of power and prestige with great expectations placed on them that they intend to live up to. Ling as an Xingese prince, Pyrrha as a world renowned champion fighter and promising huntresses, the "invincible girl". Both agree to becoming a maiden/homuculus respectively, despite the inhumane means of doing so and risk to their body, soul and life, as they believe obtaining this power will help their people.

"We can't transfer Amber's power to you but we can give you what those powers are bound to."

"Her aura"

"Her life... would become intertwined with yours. The question is-"

"What's that gonna do to you?" - (RWBY Volume 3 Chapter 6)

Greed and Cinder's stories are body horror stories about what you'll sacrifice for power, and the power they are "gifted" by their masters, Father and Salem, is concentrated in their left arm.

Interestingly, Greed's power that transforms him into an inhuman monster is his "Ultimate Shield" that makes him invulnerable, which is the exact opposite of the "power" that Salem grants Cinder that slowly crawls up her left arm threatening to turn her into a monster makes her more vulnerable than most, because she doesn't have aura to protect those parts of her.

Both Greed and Cinder are the most defiant of their masters wishes, and often Father and Salem experience losses and failures because they underestimated Greed and Cinder's ambition. What should have been an easy win at Haven for Salem failed because Cinder was overly ambitious in her need to to win, to feel powerful, and Greed's betrayal of Father is simply because his own ambition is greater than his, thus he would never be content to work underneath him, to be less than him.

Both are charismatic individuals and good at convincing others to work with them. They like to surround themselves with others and both are the only ones under Father/Salem to have their own subordinates (Wrath doesn't count since it was always Father's intention to have him become Fuhrer). Despite them clearly needing human connection, their relationship with their loyal subordinates we are introduced to alongside them is... Not Super Great. They might care about them to a certain degree, but at the end of the day they ultimately view them as useful tools and possessions.

Both of them speak of an emptiness they feel inside of them:

"All of these souls inside of me, and yet I still feel so... empty"

"It's... an emptiness. It burns. Like a hunger."

It's ultimately Ling thst acts as Greed's consciousness, as when he doesn't show any remorse over killing Bido, the last of the old Greed's followers, on the orders of Father, Ling is the one who drags out all of his repressed emotion, being able to feel his pain and see his memories, he forces Greed to face them and how terribly he treated his "friends", and to reevaluate his priorities and self, pushing him away from Father.

"It's nothing personal. I'm just doing my job. I am sorry, honestly!"

"What have you done, Greed? Are you determined to prove you're a monster? What kind of sick creature... would kill his own friend!?"

"He wasn't my... friend..."

"Then why do you remember him? And are you gonna try and tell me Bido was just making everything up?"

"Those were the last Greed's memories! They're not mine!"

"THEN WHY ARE YOU IN SO MUCH PAIN!?

Pull yourself together, Greed. I'm warning you. I'll take this body back if you drop your guard"

"They aren't mine... Father purified me and purged the old Greed's memories. Those memories aren't a part of me any more!"

"No! You're wrong Greed! It's not that easy! They'll always be a part of you! You can't just erase them from your soul! They were the only part of you that you chose!"

"Look at them! Can you not hear their souls crying out? You abandoned them. Your real family! You threw them away like trash!"

"Fool. If you turned your back on something you wanted, YOU DON'T DESERVE TO CALL YOURSELF GREED!" (Fullmetal Alchemist Brotherhood episode 44, Greed and Ling)

If Pyrrha were to return, it's likely she would manifest and communicate more directly with Cinder than maiden predecessors usually do (though in all fairness we don't know the details of if maiden predecessors do or not), being more similar to Ozpin and Oscar's situation, rather than just being a part of her soul, because of how unnatural her interference with the fall maiden's power transfer was. The way Ozpin looks and speaks about it makes it clear he knows there is a very good chance he was recreating his own curse the GoL bestowed on him, and that this isn't like when he was the Hermit, giving his magic happily to the Maidens.

There's also the parallels between Ozma and Pyrrha's situations too, and how readily they accept their mission and fate, and in how they die, and I believe we still haven't seen the full payoff to those parallels with Pyrrha.

When Ozma reincarnates the first time, it's implied that he completely overtakes Ozma 2.0/ Oisín/Diggs (why do we have so many names for him), having not yet learned how to live with the souls with which he had been paired. It's not until much, much later when Oz is beginning to have doubts about whether he should stay with Salem , but still continues to go along with her plans that Oisín makes himself known, (and we know Ozma isn't used to him communicating with him with how suprised and shaken he is by this, which is strange considering he's been paired with him for a long while, unless Oisín hadn't made himself known before this) and is the one who finally pushes Ozma to leave Salem.

"What are we doing?"

With Cinder returning to Salem's side, full of doubt of whether she can go through with Salem's plan for her, to hurt and destroy herself for this power, and Emerald and Mecury (probably Neo too) likely betraying and cutting ties with Cinder too, which is going to leave her full of even more doubt, hurt, anger and additional feelings of betrayal and confusion. And more than anything, alone. Which would be the ideal time for Pyrrha to say to Cinder like with Ozma, "What are we doing?" To push her to reevaluate her priorities and self.

Imagine Pyrrha finally being able to manifest or communicate with Cinder, realizing she's bound to the woman who killed her. Knowing her emotions and memories in their entirety, feeling her pain and anger as if it were her own. And Ruby describing her as "Pyrrha thought that if there was even the smallest chance of helping someone that it was a chance worth taking" the Pyrrha who told Jaune "Everyone needs a little help sometimes" understanding what Cinder went through, and that if she couldn't save the world or make it better by attempting to kill Cinder, then, maybe as she is now, the one thing she can do to help save the world, to make it a better place, is by helping Cinder be better, helping her use her talents for good, like a true maiden should? (On a more fun note, imagining Pyrrha deciding to help Cinder but not missing any opportunity to be a playfully snarky little shit towards her. Because what is Cinder gonna do? Kill her again? Like tell me Pyrrha would not Do Both. And Cinder's not sure which she hates more: Pyrrha teasing her or feeling sorry for her)

Another interesting thing is how in The World of RWBY: The Official Companion states that Salem's goal is to possess all four relics, and to absorb the power of all the Maidens, which she means to at some point, absorb Cinder's power. It's likely part of why she favours Cinder and has such an intimate relationship with her (the Relic of Choice might have played a role in why Salem chose Cinder specifically) That transition of maiden powers from Cinder to Salem would be made much more seamless for Salem if she was grooming Cinder to be more like her, and was slowly becoming more Grimm, if she was treating Cinder like an extension of herself, because to Salem, she would be. Which is again, similar to Father and Greed, as Greed literally was an extension of Father created from him, and absorbed back into him when he became too disobedient and remade and reborn again.

The finale of Fullmetal Alchemist Brotherhood has Father absorbing Greed's philosopher's stone in an attempt to claim his power, but Greed ends up sacrificing himself by inverting his Ultimate Shield inside of Father, making his whole body incredibly fragile and vulnerable so Ed is able to defeat him. In the end, Greed ends up being the key to their victory against Father.

I want to make it clear that I don't personally think RWBY will end with Cinder dying or "defeating" Salem. At least, not in the traditional sense. I can draw as many comparisons as I like between Greed and Cinder but at the end of the day they're two different stories with different themes. And I don't believe that kind of ending would align with RWBY's. One of the themes of Cinder's story is to find a way to keep living no matter what. And as for Salem, the only way she can "die" is to learn the value of life and death, which would require a much more different approach.

But either way, I do believe Cinder will end up being their key to victory one way or another, similar to Greed.

#rwby #pyre #greedling #cinder fall #greed the avaricious #ling yao #pyrrha nikos #fullmetal alchemist: brotherood #fullmetal achemist #rwby theory #rwby meta #fullmetal alchemist brotherhood spoilers #I AM SORRY TO EVERYONE WHO HAD TO SCROLL THROUGH THIS ALL #I I DON'T HAVE A LAPTOP SO I CAN'T PUT A READ MORE LINK IN MY POSTS ON MY PHONE #thank you to anyone who might have read my dumb long analysis #I've had this in my head for a while but I get really nervous about sharing my thoughts and making long posts like this #so thank you

[himluv]

Devotion

Oof. This is my last one. And, uh... it hurts. Solavellan for Dragon 4ge Day, for the prompt “Endings”.

I’m sorry...

TW: Major Character Death

Also: This is my interpretation/expectations for where we’re headed as a ship. I’m going down with this ship y’all, and where I’m going, there won’t be enough tissues in the world to dry my tears. Buckle up.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to end. Why did his plans always veer so tragically far off course? He was meant to be the savior of Thedas, of Arlathan, of the People. He would right his wrongs and reset the course of history, restoring order and balance to a world impossibly off-kilter. He was meant to be the martyr, the sacrifice to atone for sins he had not foreseen.

But, yet again, his foresight proved faulty.

He knew the Inquisitor would find him. Knew there was nothing he could do to keep her from doing all she could to stop him. Despite it all, his proclamations, his obvious intent, his pleas that she leave him to his dark endeavors, she still believed she could win. She still believed she could convince him to abandon his purpose.

He just hadn’t realized the lengths to which she would go to save him. How could he? In all his years, the millennia spread out behind him was a tapestry of judgement, foolish pride, and betrayal. He could never have fathomed that someone could care for him with such depth, with a devotion so pure it proved reckless.

Fatal, even.

Her hand on his cheek pulled him from those thoughts. Her eyes, wide and wet with pain, anchored him in this terrible moment.

“Vhenan,” she said. The word struck him deep enough that he flinched. She rarely used the term, preferring to simply use his name. Now she said it with regret for all the times she didn’t. All the times she wouldn’t.

His arms tightened around her, pulling her closer against him as he rocked her. “What have I done?”

She shook her head, but it was a feeble gesture. She was losing strength quickly. “You don’t get credit for this one.” She smiled and it fractured into a wince. “You carry enough guilt without borrowing mine.”

“Riallan.” He stroked her hair, searching for words but all of them turned to ash in his mouth, weightless. Impotence, cloying and clinging, boiled up in him until his shock turned to anger. “That blow was meant for me.” He closed his eyes, unable to look into the vibrant green of hers any longer. “I could have withstood it.” He didn’t know if that was true, but it was far more likely that he would survive the attack than she would.

As ever, she saw through him. “Perhaps,” she said. Her voice grew frail, the words like glass on her lips. “But I could not withstand watching you die.” She shrugged and hissed with pain. Like it was so simple a thing, the decision to sacrifice herself in order to save him.

Around them, the Crossroads were a blur of chaos. The Agents of Fen’Harel fought against the remaining forces of the Inquisition, a stalling tactic on his part. A distraction on the part of the Inquisition. Busy the troops so that Riallan and her team could get close enough to stop him.

He supposed it had worked, though he hoped to every spirit in the Fade that this had not been her plan all along.

Throughout the Crossroads the Eluvians flared and roiled, the magic within them snapping and crackling, demanding release. He was so close. All he had to do was steal that gathered power, take it into himself and then step through the Veil and into the Fade. The Seal would be there, and behind it all the ‘Gods’ he’d locked away. The Eluvians’ power would eat him up, much like his mark had gnawed at the Inquisitor, but he would release it. Bring it all forth to bear on the Seal and release those Old Gods on the world. They would ravage and remake it, bloody and terrible and new.

The time had come. All his planning led to this moment. He simply had to go to the nearest Eluvian, put his hand to its glass, and absorb the magic. The fight was over. He had won. All he had to do was let go of his vhenan and finish what he had started.

Her hand was still on his cheek, her thumb brushing against his cheekbone to wipe at his tears. With what little breath she had left, his vhenan sang to him, her voice hitched and shaking.

“Melava inan enansal, ir su aravel tu elvaral u na emma abelas.”

It was not the first time he’d heard her sing. She’d done it often in the early mornings, soft and sweet in their tent when she thought he still slept. But, he had never heard this song before.

“In elgar sa vir mana, in tu setheneran din emma na.”

She might as well have written it for him alone. A fresh wave of grief rolled through him, washing away his anger and leaving him powerless. He could no sooner leave her now than he could have stopped Corypheus all those years ago.

“Tel’dan’latha, vhenan.” She brushed away his tears even as she shed her own. “Ame dirthem ane, var lath vir suledin.”

He nodded, and pressed his lips to her forehead. “And so it did.”

The blood blossomed crimson on the emerald fabric of her Keeper’s Robes, and though his strength had returned, it was spread too thin. He could not heal her with his power alone, not while the Eluvians seethed around them.

The Eluvians…

He blinked, surprised at his own sudden inspiration. He looked down at her, at the waxy pallid skin around her eyes, and the too red color of her lips. But, despite the feverish shine to her eyes, she still saw him. She hadn’t left him yet.

“You’re right, vhenan,” he said. The words poured from him, confessions he’d hidden from for too long. “I was wrong. Again. Still.” He shook his head. “I see that now.” He kissed her and he was surprised at the force with which she returned his affections. “I know what I have to do.”

“Solas?” Her eyes widened, panicked as he gently moved her off of his lap. “What are you doing?”

“Saving you. The only way I can.” He knelt over her and pressed a hand to her cheek. “Ar lath ma, vhenan. Never doubt that.”

She hissed in pain but nodded. “Ar lath ma, Solas. I never have.”

He smiled at that, and somewhere in the expression she saw his plan. By the time she called after him to stop, he had already strode away from her. He reached the Eluvian, tall and furious with glacial blue light boiling in the frame. All he had to do was put a single finger to it, and he would consume the magic that connected them.

It would be enough.

He pressed his palm to the pane and hundreds of magical mirrors fell silent simultaneously. The Eluvians glowed, but the roiling energy calmed once more. The sudden change brought the fighting to a halt as confused Inquisition Agents and his own forces turned to look at him. But he hardly noticed.

Solas’ entire awareness shrank to where his palm trembled on the Eluvian. He screamed, the sound shattering the unnatural calm, as impossible amounts of power flowed into him. It burned, like the fires of Elgar’nan himself, up his arm and into his chest, consuming and overwhelming his own well of magic. Then it froze, icy and sharp, at first blissfuly numb and then aching. Then lightning, crackling and shocking, explosive in his veins.

Every sort of magic the Evanuris had used, pooled together to forge the Eluvians in the early days of Arlathan roared through him, scorching and searing and sundering him from the inside out.

He expected it to fade once he’d absorbed it all. Instead the Eluvians just shut down, going dark and leaving the Crossroads lit by the pale, preternatural light of the Fade. The Eluvian he touched fell dormant and repulsed him with a shock so violent he was knocked to his knees.

Still no one moved.

He stood, blue smoke curling up from his skin as he turned to look at Riallan. She wasn’t moving, the stillness clenching at his heart. Was he too late?

His eyes glowed with power, the fury of the contained magical forces a hurricane within him. Every moment he held that power was agony, each step a unique misery, like a thousand giants were pulling him apart and crushing him at the same time.

But he took those faltering, torturous steps to fall on his knees beside her. Dimly he noticed she spoke to him, her lips barely moving, but he couldn’t hear her over the roar of energy that thrummed in his ears. He knew her well enough that he didn’t need to hear her words.

“It’s the only way, vhenan,” he said.

She winced away from him while around them soldiers and agents flinched and covered their ears. Even as the power ate away at him, he marveled at the fact his voice had rendered his foes useless, until her hand found his face. Her touch was a balm to the feverish heat of his skin, sweet relief that he leaned into.

“Forgive me,” he whispered. Her brow furrowed, her green eyes wide and frightened. Not for herself, but for him. Her adversary, Fen’Harel, the Dread Wolf. Solas.

Because in the end, that was who he was to her. In the end, it was her refusal to see him as anyone or anything else that saved Thedas.

He pressed his hands to her abdomen, ignoring the warm, sticky sensation of her robes. Though the magic clamored to be released, he only let a trickle pour through his fingers and into the Inquisitor’s failing body. He feared that too much at once would destroy her, just as surely as it was destroying him.

It was slow, excruciating work, holding the magic back and forcing it to do his will. The original plan had only called for him to gather the energy and then unleash it upon the Seal. This… this was harder.

He grit his teeth, fought to keep his hands steady, and still sweat beaded on his brow. But color returned to the Inquisitor’s cheeks and her breathing came easier beneath his palms. He watched as his vhenan revived at his efforts, and knew that the pain and struggle would be worth it. For once in his life, he’d managed to do something right.

He took a step back from her, putting distance between them, committing her shocked and relieved, face to his memories. Just in case he would still have them wherever his spirit would roam. It would be no small comfort to see her face, alive and proud and shining with love, for the rest of his eternity.

Then he released the remaining power of the Eluvians. First came the lightning, streaking through his blood and into the air, colliding back into mirrors across the Crossroads. Then the glacial cold, fogging his breath and threatening to bring him to his knees once more. Last came the fire, hot and burning like a sun behind his eyelids as the power soared back to its home. There was more screaming, his again, before he collapsed and the Crossroads burst into action.

“Solas!” Riallan’s arms caught him before he hit the hard ground. She sank down with him, her voice blessedly strong in his ears. Whole. Her hand on his face again, anchoring him as his focus dwindled. “Stay with me, vhenan,” she said. She cradled him, their roles suddenly reversed.

He smiled. “Say it again.” His voice was his own once more. The pain from a moment before was gone, and the nothingness that followed it was perfection. On some level he knew he should be concerned, but she was alive, holding him again, so he couldn’t quite manage it.

“Dorian! Help me!” She looked down at him, new tears filling her eyes. “Say what again? Vhenan?”

He nodded.

“I’ll never use your name again, if you’ll just stay with me, vhenan.”

He chuckled at that. He felt light, thin in her arms. There was no more guilt to weigh him down, and nothing hurt. For the first time since before he entered Uthenera Solas was at peace. It’d been so long he almost didn’t recognize the sensation.

Dorian appeared in his line of sight, the mage checking his vitals. He gave Riallan a confused look. “Nothing seems wrong.”

Because nothing was, Solas thought. He recalled her face at the moment she realized he’d healed her, brought her back from what should have been guaranteed death. That he chose her life over the rebirth of the world. How awed she’d looked. How pleased and scared and proud of him she’d been. When was the last time someone had been proud of him?

“Dirth ma, vhenan,” she said, calling him back to the present. “What’s happening?”

He had to think about it, which he noted should also be troubling. What was happening? Right, the Eluvians. “I used the gathered strength of the Evanuris to save you,” he said.

“The Eluvians?”

He nodded. “I was going to use it to release them and the Old Gods but,” he tried to adjust in her arms, but found he couldn’t move. That was concerning. He swallowed back the fear, for her sake. “You made me see.”

She glanced at Dorian, who shrugged. “See what, vhenan?”

“That, despite all my worst efforts, this world was better than anything I could have made.” He blinked, the numb nothingness turning to an uncomfortable chill. He was running out of time. “You cared more for this world than anyone in Arlathan ever did.” He swallowed at the emotion caught in his throat. “You cared more for me, as well.”

She bit back a sob. “But what’s happening to you?”

He cleared his throat, his voice going frail on his tongue. “The power is too much for any one being to contain. Even one such as me. There is a cost, one I am happy to pay.”

Her hand tightened around his, and he was glad he could still feel it. “The Eluvians took your power,” she said.

He smiled. “Clever, vhenan. Always so clever.”

“So, you’re mortal now?” Dorian asked.

Solas tried to shake his head, but couldn’t. “No,” he said. “It’s not like severing a connection to the Fade. My magic was sacrificed. Removed. Without it, my spirit cannot remain.”

His breath came shallow, his lungs failing as his body died around him. They were out of time.

“Vhenan,” he said. “Go to Skyhold. I sent,” he gasped, “a gift. Explains everything.” He gave her a shaky smile. “Just in case.”

She made a sound, somewhere between a laugh and a sob, and held him close. “Ar lath ma, vhenan,” she chanted, rocking him as he had rocked her only moments ago.

He looked up at her, unwilling and unable to look anywhere else. That her face would be the last thing he saw, he arms the last he felt, her voice and those words the last he ever heard soothed his soul.

The last thing Solas did was smile.

He did not die alone.

Elvhen Translations: Melava inan enansal  ir su aravel tu elvaral u na emma abelas in elgar sa vir mana in tu setheneran din emma na Time was once a blessing but long journeys are made longer when alone within. Take spirit from the long ago but do not dwell in lands no longer yours.  (From the Elvhen song “Suledin”) Tel’dan’latha, vhenan Do not grieve/weep, vhenan Ane dirthem ame, var lath vir suledin I told you, our love will endure/last/survive Ar lath ma I love you

Dirth ma Speak to/tell me (lit. Speak you)

#dragonageday #dragon age day #solavellan #dai #riallan lavellan #ow #I cried when I wrote this #I love it and I hate it

[justfangstvdto]

Open Coffin | Chapter 12:  “Where do we go from here?”

Pairing: Kol x SalvatoreSister!Reader

Chapter Summary: Y/N and her brothers, still in the Lion's den, have to deal with secrets that will be uncovered by none other the master puppeteer himself; Klaus. But behind the Puppeteer´s back, a plan has been formed that will change the course of action.

Warnings: angst, drama, horrible time management, typical violence, plot divergence (as always)

Word count: 3346

Tags & Author Note at the bottom. Feedback is welcomed and appreciated.

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Previously on Open Coffin: 

“Stefan. Where is the lovely Elena tonight?” Elijah asks, changing the subject to something more pleasant.

Or so he thinks.

“I don't know. Ask Damon.”

Klaus laughs out loud, while Elijah seems to be startled by Stefans reaction “I'm sorry, you've missed so much.” He says “ Ah, trouble in paradise.”

“One more word about Elena and this dinner's over.” Stefan flashes Klaus a false smile, his eyes dead serious.

Klaus smiles and puts a finger to his lips as a promise to keep quiet about Elena.

“You know what, probably best just to keep Elena in the do-not-discuss pile.” Damon

“You're probably right.” Klaus agrees “It's just the allure of the Petrova doppelgänger, still so strong. What do you say, brother? Should we tell them about Tatia?”

“Now why should we discuss matters long since resolved?”

“I don't see the point either.” You shrug “You fell in love with Tatia like you two fell for Katherine. And Elena.”

“Well there are other stories to tell, Y/N.”He says and stares at you, torturing you with his eyes “For example, there is your undying love for my brother Kol.”

“What?!”Damon chokes on the wine he was drinking, glaring at you from across the table.

That bastard.

The room falls completely silent. Merely the fireplace crackling in the background deflects from the fact that everyone is staring at you. Only Stefan looks at the ceiling, rolling his eyes at Klaus awful timing.

Speaking of Klaus, he, of course, smiles like a Cheshire cat.

“Oh, you were unaware of your sisters love affairs?” He says fakely offended by his indiscretion “How rude of me.”

“Niklaus, this is not the time to-” Elijah begins, the Peacekeeper in him in full swing, but Damon interrupts him

“No no do tell. We´re curious, right Stefan?”

“Not really, no.” Stefan shakes his head “I know all I need to.”

“You knew?!”

“Leaving the oldest brother in the dark. What a turn of events.” Klaus puppeteers yet again.

You bite the inside of your cheek to avoid saying anything about Klaus unnecessary commentary.  

Damon once again proves that he doesn't trust you still. Not even when it comes to love.

“Are you gonna say anything or are just gonna sit there?”

“What do you want me to say? I won't apologize for falling in love. “

“Love? You can't actually think you one, know what love is and second, think that he, a Mikaelson is capable of anything remotely close to love.” He blurts out suddenly unaware of his environment. He looks at both Mikaelson brothers and raises his hands in defense “No offense.”

“And you would know that how? Right, you don´t. You haven't known me for centuries.” You glare at him, your fury rising to an already unhealthy level “Besides, I don't see why you should be allowed to judge me anyway, considering your past. Or present.”

“That has nothing to do with-”

You plunge the knife you had been clutching into the expensive table, the pinch damaging several inches  “It has everything to do with that!”

“Finally!” Klaus claps as if to congratulate himself “I feared you’ve lost your fire.”

“I'm so fucking sick of your double standard.” Damon swallows, quite a bit baffled by your sudden offense “Need I remind you,  you are in the same exact situation with yet another doppelganger claiming to be so in love you’re willing to sacrifice your relationship with your own brother. Do I like any of that? No. Do I judge you because of it? Actually yes, but I would never tell you what to do. So, don´t you dare judge me or the only good thing that has ever happened in my life. Don´t you dare.”

The room falls silent yet again, only the breathy laugh of Klaus on the opposite side of the table. He, of course, seems to enjoy this quarrel, especially because for once it's not him and his sibling's bickering.

Must be refreshing indeed.

“Now now, we don't intend to judge anybody, now do we? Your brother, as well as I, are merely curious about how you came to know of my brother's whereabouts in the first place.” Klaus asks, more satisfying his curiosity than Damons “Somebody must've sent you. I would´ve known if a Salvatore lived in New Orleans.”

“Do you really want to know who send me? I don't think you'd be happy with the answer.” You say and Klaus narrows his eyes, trying to gather any information as to who you're referring to.

“You were sent? Like a spy?” Stefan asks, now curious despite his previous statement.

“You could say that.” You nod“ It was in 1913. I was ordered to gather information about the Original family. So I did. When I learned of Kols history I discharged my mission and we joined forces.”

“Why would you do that?”

There it is. The moment at the crossroads. You could either go down the same path you´ve been trodding on since you returned to this dreadful town. It's the path lead by the fear of losing your brothers again, so you kept secrets hidden behind lock and key or you sugar coated them to lessen the blow.

Then there's the unknown, foggy path, where every secret and bottled feeling lies out in the open. The road might be lonely, but if there is one feeling you´re used to it is loneliness.

Screw it. Nothing left to lose anyway.

Secret´s out. Better to abandon the path the led to nowhere.

“Because he was abandoned by his family like I was. The odd ones out that nobody seemed to care about.”

Stefan looks on his plate as does Elijah, a rush of guilt rushing over both of them. Stefan seems to feel responsible for sending you away after he figured out that you were the one that told your father about Katherine. And Elijah, well, he stood by while Klaus daggered his siblings and did nothing. Of course, he feels guilty. He should.

Klaus and Damon, on the other hand, don’t seem to be too faced by all of it. Their masks of anger and wit still glued to their faces.

“And somewhere along the line, we fell in love. Until he decided to take him away,” You reminisce, pointing at Klaus,“ simply because we planned on doing the same to him he did to all of his siblings.” You look at Klaus, his face unchanged, almost bored by the telling of your story. “And you saw it as a betrayal, didn't you? As if you never betrayed your family before.”

“And despite all your joined ambition look where you are now. Kol is safely tucked away, as is the key ingredient of the weapon that has the same effect as a common dagger. You´ve dealt your cards, now haven't you?”

He's right. You have dealt your cards and you don´t have an ace in the hold.

“So, that's why you waltzed back into town, isn't it? To find Kol?” Damon asks, eerily similar to Stefan only mere days ago.

“No, Kol not the only reason. I came back to help Stefan. And maybe even for you. Not that you care of course.”

“Now now, Y/N, don't forget the best part about your arrival. Or should I say Elijah´s arrival?

“Niklaus.” Elijah shakes his head, warning his little brother to stop treading on the path of alienating you and your siblings.

But Klaus being Klaus he decides to make things worse instead. “Tell me, who falsely lured my dear brother to Mystic Falls with the promising news of yet another Petrova doppelganger, hoping it be me who comes running?”

Stefan snickers at Klaus words and shakes his head in disbelief.

“Something funny?” Klaus asks, not quite understanding the reason for Stefan's amusement.

“Yes. You.” Stefan looks at him  “She wouldn't do that, you're lying.”

“Such faith in your sister. It´s ill-placed I'm afraid.” Klaus sighs and looks over to you “ Isn't that right Y/N?”

Stefan glances over, his eyes fixated on you once he sees the guilt written over your face “Tell me he's lying.”

“I can´t. It's true.” Your voice is shaking with the heartbeat that seems to be stuck in your throat.

Stefan blinks once before he lowers his head, the truth sinking into his bones. You are responsible for Elijah finding Elena. You're responsible for Klaus coming back here and breaking his curse. And you are responsible for everything that has happened after.

How could is own sister, that he loves, be the cause of his misery that has befallen him?

“Say something, please.” You plead, burning tears of frustration and hurt threatening to fall from your eyes “Fine. We're right back where we started, aren't we? After everything I did for you.”

“You mean what you have done for yourself,” Damon speaks out what presumably everyone in this room is thinking.

“Nothing I did was intended to hurt you or Stefan, but believe whatever you need to believe. I know that my intentions coming back here were true. Not entirely unselfish, but true. If you can't see that, so be it.”

Klaus opens his mouth to pour another tinge of salt in open wounds, but Elijah stops him from doing so.

“That's enough.” he says “Why don't we move this evening along and discuss the terms of this proposal, rather than relive memories that have no place at this table?”

“You know what, you go right ahead. I'm done.“ You throw the handkerchief over the plate and get up “Congratulations, Klaus. You win. You burned me out. I give up.” You look at Stefan who refuses to even meet your gaze.

You don't even have to look at Damon to know what he shares his brother's fury.

Tears roll down your cheeks as you turn around, not looking back once. Slamming the door behind you, tears now freely running down your face blurring your sight.

You showed them the side you´ve been hiding. The rotten part of yourself. All the lies, loneliness and secrets were put out in the open. All the feelings of despair and loneliness.

You spoke the truth and you were judged for it. Worse, you´re ended up right where you started. Yet another set of memories that will soon crumble, be immortalized and buried six feet under.

What´s left to do then leave and never look back?

Exactly, nothing.

Meanwhile at the Mikaelson Manor

“Let´s get to the deal then. ” Damon says and leans forward, his elbows resting on the table “Klaus gets his coffin back, in exchange, he and the Original extended family leave Mystic Falls forever.”

“The deal sounds fair, brother.” Elijah shrugs.

“I don't think you understand. Elena's doppelgänger blood ensures that I will always have more hybrids to fight those that oppose me. I will never leave her behind.Nor will I leave my family.” Klaus shakes his head and gets up to pace the room “Let's say I do leave her here, under your protection, what then? How long before one of you turns her into a vampire? Or worse, how long before she dies caught between your feuding?” Damon looks at Stefan at Klaus words, but Stefan keeps his head down, still digesting the secrets that have been laid before him. “You see, each one of you truly believes that you're the one that can protect her, and that is simply a delusion. Gentlemen, the worst thing for Elena Gilbert is...the two of you.”

Damon gives Klaus a weak smile “I'm gonna get some air.”

“Let me deal with this.” Elijah springs up from his seat and follows Damon outside.

“Well, I guess the only reason you agreed to this evening, Klaus, is to drive a wedge between us,” Stefan says, as he paces the room. He can´t seem to sit still anymore.

“Oh no, you're doing that well enough on your own.” Klaus laughs, obviously still very amused by the chaos he caused.

Klaus and Stefan turn their heads as Elijah and Damon reenter.

“Elijah...is there a problem?” Klaus asked wearily, already sensing that something appears to be wrong

“Where are your manners, brother? We forgot dessert.” Elijah takes the cover off the tray one of the servants bring in.

Two silver daggers lie on it.

Klaus looks at the tray and his eyes widen “What have you done?”

“What have you done? You see, I've learned not to trust your vulgar promises, Klaus. And after your despicable act tonight I decided to abandon my tactic. We're doing this on my terms now.”

Right on cue, Kol enters the room, eyes burning at the sight of his bastard brother.

“Kol.” Klaus says, fear written over his features. Kol is the sibling he fears the most, especially now that he just severed the ties with you and your brother. Kol will be furious once he finds out.

And if Klaus and Kol share one aspect of their personality, it´s rage.

“Long time, brother.” Kol walks towards him and Klaus backs away.

The oldest brother Finn, now undaggered as well suddenly appears and grabs a dagger and stabs Klaus through the hand “Finn, don't!” Klaus rushes away, bumping into his sister.

“This is for our mother.” Rebekah stabs Klaus in the heart with the remaining dagger: She pulls it out the dagger out and Klaus falls back into Kol's arms and he restrains him.

Elijah looks at Damon and Stefan switching before his eyes land on Kol. Should he tell his little brother to go with them to find Y/N? Or would Kol feel even more excluded as he already does if he sends him away?

“Stefan, Damon, you're free to go.” Elijah says and gives them a nod “This is family business.”

“Salvatore?” Kol pushes Klaus over to Finn, the thirst for revenge overshadowed by the longing he feels for you.“Was your sister with you´?

“She left.” Damon answers shortly. He is still bitter about the secret you´ve been hiding. Right now, he couldn't care less where you are.

“Take me to her,” Kol demands.

Stefan and Damon share a quick look, having one of their silent conversations. They both know that if Kol is anything like his siblings, he won't take no for an answer.

Besides, Stefan can't help but think how you are dealing with this situation.

Even after everything you´ve done to get here, he knows that sometimes drastic measures like luring the Mikaelsons to Mystic falls and every chaos that has unfolded is necessary. If it was in this case, he has yet to figure out.

“Fine.” Stefan agrees to Kol´s demand “Let's start at home.”

Kol glances out the slightly dirty passenger window, outlandish looking cars fly by, accompanied by strangely dressed people either talking or looking at a handheld device.

It's safe to say he's confused by the sudden time leap.  He feels even more like an outsider in this day in age, than he used to.

“So you´re-” Damon begins to talk, attempting to form some sort of non-awkward road conversation.

“I'm in no mood to talk. Especially not to you.” Kol blows him off. After everything you've told him about your family quarrels, Kol doesn't have the slightest desire to talk to Damon.

“Nevermind, I do have one simple question.” Kol shifts in his seat to catch a glimpse of Stefan in the backseat “Who do I have to torture to find out who scared  Y/N away?”

“Who do you think?” Stefan scoffs, the answer obvious to him.

“Nik, of course.” Kol looks out the window, hands clenched and lip twitching.“Let me guess, you played his hand, didn't you?“

“It's her own fault. She could've told us the truth.” Damon says, the bitterness and fury hearable.

“Because you handle the truth exceptionally well the last time.” Kol scoffs and shakes his head.

Your brothers remind him so much of his own siblings. He too is always the first to blame or the one that´s judged the harshest, even if his own siblings committed as awful of atrocities.

Sometimes even worse ones.

Y/N | Boarding House

You´ve been crying all the way to the Boarding House. Calling it home now, would not be appropriate. At least not anymore.

Your brothers searched for the first indicator to push you away again. And Klaus served it on a silver platter.If they want to get rid of you so badly, so be it. You'll cross the town borders in the next minutes without looking back.  

A new adventure awaits.

Another road redefined.

You swing the heavy bag containing your belongings over your shoulders, as you turn to get a last look at your room that has never quite felt like home. You close the door behind you, as well as the metaphorical door of this failed attempt to reconcile with your brothers.

Alone, like you´ve been used to for the last 100 years.

Maybe it's better this way. Wherever you to set foot in chaos soon seems to follow. They´re better off without you.

You open the front door, stepping outside under the darkening sky, your heart both heavy for leaving, especially the way you do, but the tiniest part of you feels freer.

Finally, they know what you´ve been hiding for a long time. Not everything still, but the most important parts.

You take a deep breath before turning to close the door behind you. The wind seems to pick up once you do, a swift breeze running down your back. Before the door fully closes, a firm hand wraps around your neck, squeezing tightly before pulling you into the darkness with a swift break.  Your bag falls on the floor, as does your phone as your attacker drags you away at rapid speed.

Not a minute later, Damon speeds down the driveway and Kol jumps out while it's still moving, impatient to see you again. He has the brightest smile on his lips and he knows once he can wrap his arms around you, every pain he endured will be washed away.

He´ll know he´ll be whole again.

His smile quickly falters as he stops at the door that's still ajar, the bag on the floor catching his attention. He looks around him in panic, searching for any indication of you. When he can´t find one he kicks the door open in rage and worry, speeding through the entire house searching room for room, but nothing.

Kol balls his fist and returns outside, grabbing Damon by the neck holding him firmly a few feet above the ground.

If this would be any other vampire than your brother, he would go straight for the heart. But he knows no matter how much your brothers hurt you, you would never let anyone hurt them as long as if there's no way around it.

“Where. Is. She?” Kol grits through his teeth, voice dangerously calm and sharp.

“Knock it off! We don´t know where she is.” Stefan intervenes, but Kol doesn´t budge.

Stefan then switches from defense to offense and speeds towards him. Kol doesn't even have to look behind him to anticipate the attack and grabs Stefan as well.

“If you would´ve stood by her for once in your pathetic lives, she would be here. Now you will help me find her. And we will find her, do you understand?” They nod, face already red from the loss of oxygen.

“Very good.” Kol releases them and they heave for air, coughing their way back to normal breathing “Let's get started then, shall we?”

A/N: Guys, before I start, please put the pitchforks down!!! I know letting them miss each other by just a moment this is cruel, very cruel in fact. But how boring would´ve been if I just went with the normal plot line. I mean, I am a sucker for that overdramatic running into each other's arms thing, but the angst won once again.

Also, what do you think about the secret(is) revealed? Do you think Stefan and Damon overreacted? I know where I stand, where do you´? ;)

Open Coffin Tags:  @shadyladyperfection @laitalianax3 @newurleans @originalbish98 @christinalibertymikaelson @acourtofhopeanddreams @bonniebird @imnoaingeal @onlygodcanjudgeme-sh @vaniileiinkeks  @relmi-llorrac @piercethepottorff @maliae14  @5-seconds-of-animals @captain-amelia-bradley  @rock-n-magick @flymeawayworld @givemesomehybrid @mikealsonlover @nuteller28 @fandoms-fandoms-everywhere99 @drkplum @fandooomqueenforyou @free-the-fangirl @clockworkballerina @twisted1ginger @superwholocksociopath474   @pacifyprincess @mustachio1616 @thealyana @sandyclaws @unicorntrooper @buckysummers @sanity-is-overratedxp @akshi8278 @lunna-star-8 @graysonmalfoy @woodworthti666 @elenavaldez02 @lilulo-12 @selmasemlan @thelostallycat @characterobsessed @cococola-cocaine 

#kol x reader #kol mikaelson imagine #tvd #tvd imagine #the vampire diaries #the vampire diaries imagine #kol mikaelson #open coffin

[ladylynse]

Crossroads: Part II

A Gravity Falls/Over the Garden Wall fanfiction

Happy birthday, @paperhoodie! Thanks again for drawing this lovely cover (also on deviantart).

Part I: Mabel and Dipper have dealt with a demon before, so when they wind up lost in the woods and are given two choices by a creepy kid with a lantern, they make sure to pick the third option—but every choice has consequences, even when you don’t play by the rules.

Part II: How much do you dare trust something that might not even be real? Memories, people...even reality itself?  (FFnet | AO3)

He became aware of the steady beeping first, and then aware of the fact that he was aware of it. More sounds and sensations swirled over him—the high-pitched whine of machinery, a firm mattress beneath him, the sharp smell of some sort of antiseptic, inconsistent waves of suffocating heat, a mouth that seemed completely deprived of saliva, and—childish babble?

Greg?

Greg!

Wirt tried to say something. He tried to move. He didn’t manage either. Not coherently, anyway. He managed to pry open his eyes—why was it so bright?—and lift a finger, but he felt stiff and exhausted. He wasn’t entirely sure he had actually managed to make a sound, either. If he had, it hadn’t been heard over Greg.

Greg was perched on the end of his bed in the hospital room—when had he ended up in the hospital?—and Wirt could feel the steady swinging of Greg’s feet through the mattress. Greg didn’t notice that he was awake; instead, Greg stared up at the ceiling, counting the dots on the tiles.

Greg’s voice—every sound, really—was distorted, as if Wirt were listening to it from underwater, but he could still make out the words. “Six hundred and forty-two, six hundred and forty-three, six hundred—”

A shrill series of beeps went off elsewhere, an alarm, but Greg continued unfazed.

The hum in the background grew louder, like someone had turned downed the volume on the rest of the world so that only the hum remained. Wirt shut his eyes again and tried to focus solely on Greg’s voice, but it was getting harder and harder to make out. He needed something to ground him. He needed…he needed….

The next time Wirt woke, Greg was gone. There was a nurse, doing…something…. Why couldn’t he think clearly? A syringe and an IV and—was that connected to his arm?

He tried to say something again and managed a sort of grunt that caught her attention. She smiled at him and said something, but there was water rushing in his ears, and he was just so tired….

Wirt lost track of time. Even once he became more lucid, everything seemed to blur together. Nothing made any sense, ether.

Greg came by daily, sometimes on his own but usually with at least one of their parents in tow. A couple of his friends stopped in, but never for very long; they’d all try to make small talk and then, when uncomfortable silence swelled too often for too long, invent an excuse to leave. No one really knew what to say.

He’d been in the hospital. He knew that much. He still wasn’t sure why. Until he’d caught sight of green leaves on the trees outside, he’d feared that it had never been summer at all, that it was still shortly after Halloween, that he’d never woken up until now and that everything he remembered—because he did still remember that, at least most of it—was just something invented by his subconscious.

Greg was the one who finally told him the story. No months’ long coma or anything terrible like that, just a horrible fever. Admittedly, it had been a fever that had stubbornly stayed upwards of a hundred and three for days, and with him eating nothing and sweating out or vomiting the little he did drink, his parents had bundled him up and taken him in, and there he had stayed.

Wirt remembered none of that.

“You weren’t acting like yourself,” Greg informed him the night Wirt was finally released. He sat on his bed, swinging his legs much like he had at the hospital; Wirt stood in front of him, desperate for answers. He had thought it was safer to ask questions in Greg’s room than in his; in here, their parents might think they were merely playing and not bother to listen in. “You kept saying weird things. Mom says you were delicious.”

Wirt frowned. “You mean delirious?”

Greg hummed and nodded. “But then the fever broke and you got better. I think it was because Jason Funderburker kissed you.” Wirt stared at him, but as Greg continued, blithely unaware of Wirt’s unease, Wirt realized he had been talking about his frog. “I wasn’t supposed to bring him in but he wanted to come visit you, too.”

Wirt swallowed and glanced at the table where the pet frog’s giant habitat sat, but it was empty. “I’ll have to thank him, then. Where is he?”

“In your room. He missed you.”

Right. He should have guessed. “How long was I gone?”

Greg’s legs stopped swinging. “Forever,” he said. Somehow, it didn’t sound like an exaggeration. “I’m glad you’re back now. Promise not to leave again?”

Wirt forced a smile on his face. “What makes you think I’m going to leave?” he asked instead, reaching over to ruffle Greg’s hair and diving to tickle him as he dodged.

The distraction worked. Wirt was glad; he couldn’t make that promise. Not yet. He didn’t think he could keep it yet.

It hadn’t been delirium. It hadn’t been a dream. It had been too real for that.

Mabel and Dipper, whoever they were, had helped him. Had freed him. He had to at least try to help them in return. He wasn’t sure how yet, wasn’t even sure if he’d be able to find them, but he was going to try.

“What are you doing?”

Oh, no. He’d hoped to get away before Greg found him. He turned as Greg trotted into his room and smiled. He didn’t want to lie to his brother; Greg didn’t deserve that. “I need to help a couple of friends.”

Greg was silent for a few seconds, taking in the duffel bag that was already stuffed full of clothes and toiletries and survival supplies and everything else Wirt thought he might need. Wirt braced himself for the inevitable questions: Why are you leaving? Where are you going?

Instead, he got, “Why are you packing your Halloween costume?”

“Because Summerween’s next week,” Wirt answered automatically, but even as he said it, he didn’t know if that was true. It was practically next week already, and he wasn’t sure when he’d met the twins (he was convinced they were twins, not just siblings). Time in the Unknown was different than it was here. Days there could be minutes here, so days here…. Mabel and Dipper were probably home by now.

Or they might never have made it back.

Then again, if time did pass so differently, it didn’t make sense that he’d lived two lives. Even if he couldn’t remember any more of his time in the Unknown than when he’d been with the twins, the lantern had been burning brightly; he’d been there for a while, or at least regularly. There wouldn’t have been time for years to pass between his visits. Something didn’t add up.

But they had been real. He knew that. He’d even gone to the library to do as much research on them and the little he knew about them as he could. He could recall everything from then clearly, much more vividly than if it had just been a dream. The names they had given him were Dipper and Mabel. They had a pet pig named Waddles and great-uncles named Stan and Ford. They had fought someone called Bill Cipher.

The names hadn’t proven useful, especially when the only one with a last name he knew was supposed to be a demon. But some of the other odd things they’d mentioned—Summerween and Weirdmageddon—had helped him narrow it down. He wasn’t sure how reliable the information was, of course, but every mention of those words—however sketchy—seemed to lead him to one place, and by combing through online newspapers, he’d been able to put some people with those names in that town.

It was a crazy idea, but he didn’t know what else to do.

So he was packing a bag, and he’d used his money to buy a bus ticket to Gravity Falls, and he hoped his parents wouldn’t kill him once they read the note he was planning to leave behind.

He had twenty minutes.

“That sounds fun. I’ll pack mine, too.”

“You’re not coming, Greg.”

“Why not?”

Wirt’s hands shook, so he stuffed the old army cloak into his suitcase to cover up his body’s betrayal. “Because I won’t be able to protect you.”

“Well, maybe I can protect you.”

That’s what I’m afraid of. Wirt didn’t want Greg to try to sacrifice himself like that again. He took a slow breath. “I need you to take care of Mom and Dad.”

“They can take care of themselves. They have each other. Who will you have if you don’t have me?”

Wirt dearly hoped the answer to that question wasn’t the Beast or any other demon, including this Bill Cipher, but he couldn’t explain anything. He couldn’t explain how he had seemingly been in two places at once, living two different lives. He couldn’t explain his lost time there or even his lost time here. What if none of it been real after all, and he’d simply imagined meeting Dipper and Mabel and pulled out some tidbits of information from his subconscious while in a feverish state?

Or was this the life which wasn’t real?

Wirt swallowed. He didn’t know. He wasn’t sure who he could trust. If that had been real and this wasn’t….

Nice illusions make the best traps. That’s what Mabel had said. And wasn’t she right?

You can be shown what you want to see. If you think everything is fine, you’re never going to fight it. How was he supposed to know what this was if illusions could be so convincing?

No. He had to trust that it was all real, somehow. As real as his previous trip over the garden wall and into those woods with Greg on Halloween. He didn’t have Dipper’s apparent understanding of deals with demons, but he could understand the gist of it. If Dipper had been right—partially right, considering this life was real, too—and he had still belonged to the Beast, then maybe he had been more useful to the Beast as a puppet. And maybe he had stopped the Woodsman from blowing out the lantern. But maybe he had still followed Greg back to this world, had still been able to live his life here….

Until the Beast needed him again. Until he was called back. To guard the woods. Keep watch for lost souls. Ferry people across the lake.

Keep the lantern burning.

And as long as that happened, the Beast didn’t need him the entire time. The lantern could have burned without its guardian in that quiet corner of the woods as long as he returned regularly to harvest Edelwood to feed it—and to keep children from finding their way out of the woods so that their souls could be claimed by the Beast, too.

He couldn’t remember falling ill at all this year, didn’t know if it had happened with any regularity or if this last fever had been mere coincidence. He doubted it, though. Fever, flame…. It had to be connected.

Especially since he couldn’t remember what had happened before he’d woken in the hospital.

Not really.

Dipper had said something about keeping the lantern lit, about being more useful as a puppet than as a tree, and then….

And then nothing, not even a blur or the vague sense of a fading dream.

That scared him.

Even more terrifying was the fact that he didn’t know if it was over.

This was the first time he was aware of it, but that was because Mabel and Dipper had snapped him out of it while he’d still been there. That didn’t mean he was free. It didn’t mean the Beast was gone, that the lantern had gone out, or even that Dipper had been right in thinking it a loophole. It didn’t mean the Beast couldn’t pull him back there and use him again.

“Wirt?”

He couldn’t remember what Greg had said, if he’d even asked a question.

“I’m going to go pack. You need me.”

Wirt turned, but Greg was already disappearing. No, he wanted to say. Don’t. What if I can’t protect you? I don’t want you mixed up in this. Not again. Please, just stay here.

But the words didn’t come. Greg was right: Wirt did need him. He was terrified. He didn’t know what he was getting into. Having Greg’s unshakable faith by his side would be a comfort.

But losing it, and knowing it was his fault? Could he really risk that? Again?

Wirt sighed, pulled out his wallet, and began counting his money; if this was going to be a trip for two, he needed to make sure he had enough to cover everything. Greg was not going to suffer because of him. Not again. Not in this. “I’m going to protect you, Greg. I swear, this time, I’ll keep you safe.”

The bus stop in Gravity Falls was nothing more than a sign and a bench on the outskirts of town. Wirt stepped off the bus and looked around uncertainly, carrying both his bag and Greg’s. Greg was humming as he followed Wirt. He didn’t feel…whatever this was. If he did, it didn’t bother him.

It wasn’t something Wirt could put his finger on. It felt like he’d stepped into an electrical field, like the hairs on his arms should be standing up even though they lay flat. He couldn’t hear anything, but there was still…something. Not a hum, exactly, but a…a….

There was a small pop. Wirt turned, spotting the redheaded girl leaning against a tree on the other side of the road as she asked, “So, who are you two attached to?”

“Um….”

“I’m Greg,” Greg said, bounding across the road to the girl as she blew another pink bubble. “That’s my brother, Wirt. We’re on an adventure!”

The girl popped this bubble, too, and cracked a smile. She uncrossed her arms and crouched down to Greg’s level. “Nice to meet ya, Greg. Now, what makes you think you and Wirt are going to find an adventure in boring old Gravity Falls?”

“Not sure I’d call it boring,” Wirt muttered, because if this place had demons, too, it couldn’t be. And Mabel may not have explained what she meant by Weirdmageddon, but if half of what he’d found online had even a smidgeon of truth….

The girl’s eyebrows shot up and she looked over at Wirt. “Sounds like you’d enjoy a trip to the Mystery Shack.”

“What’s the Mystery Shack?” Greg asked.

“Exactly what it sounds like.” The girl winked. “It also happens to be where I’m headed; my break’s over. I brought the golf cart if you’d care for a ride. I’m Wendy, by the way.”

Wirt had no idea where he should start looking, and he vaguely recalled something about the Mystery Shack, so he smiled. “That would be nice, thanks.”

“Follow me. I’m just parked over here,” Wendy said, pointing, “and it’s not far. If Greg doesn’t mind squishing in the middle or sitting on your lap, Wirt, you can toss your bags into the back.”

“What brings you out here if you’re just on your break?” Wirt asked, glancing over at Wendy. She looked like she was about his age, but she didn’t seem the type to just hang out at a bus stop for no reason. “You can’t have very long.”

He saw the smile drop from her face, and her expression became more guarded. “I like the fresh air,” was all she said. He couldn’t bring himself to believe her, but he didn’t push it.

Once they were all settled in the golf cart, their luggage safely stowed in the rack at the back, the trip wasn’t very long. Wirt suspected Wendy had driven carefully for Greg’s sake, and he was grateful for that; the cart certainly looked battered enough to have been rolled at some point. He was already regretting allowing Greg to come along. He wasn’t even sure what he was doing here anymore.

Wendy stopped around back and told them they were free to bring their bags inside for now—“Safer than leaving them out in the open.”—although Wirt had no idea who would steal their luggage here. He wasn’t even sure they had followed a road into the place; the main road looked to come from the other direction.

That’s not to say the trail wasn’t well signed; it seemed like every few trees, there was a sign declaring the Mystery Shack, with an arrow pointing the way. But he couldn’t understand why these people would be advertising for it from anywhere but the main road. No one would be coming towards it from the woods.

Granted, from the looks of the place, he wasn’t sure too many people would be coming towards it from the road, either. It looked barely a step above the place where Lorna and Auntie Whispers had lived. Ramshackle, though not abandoned. Falling apart despite a patchwork of repairs, though clean enough to be loved.

The chime above the door went as Wendy led them in, and Wirt heard, “Wendy, did they c— Oh, welcome, newcomers! Behold the Mystery Shack, where all—”

The spiel continued, but Wirt stopped listening in favour of staring. He’d had his doubts just seeing this place from the outside, but now…. It was all so obviously fake. He could see the stitches holding the mermaid together, the antlers on that jackalope were much too large to even be plausible, the merchandise looked cheap and corny…. The missing S from the giant sign on the roof seemed to make the name true. This was more hack than anything else. Why else would there a wax head of Larry King just sitting on a shelf, glaring at them all from behind the counter? This place was one which was too confusing for people to make sense of it, not somewhere that offered a real sense of mystery.

“Wirt, Wirt, look at this! It’s just like that painting at Unkie Endicott’s! Of the ghost lady who wasn’t a ghost! And I think her eyes are moving.” Greg was grinning as he walked back and forth in front of the painting, staring at the canvas.

“You’ll have to pay if you want to see more than just the shop,” Wendy added as she plucked their bags from Wirt’s grip and slid behind the counter with them. “We might have a new Mr. Mystery, but the rules of the business haven’t changed.”

Mr. Mystery smiled rather sheepishly. “We have added a family discount now.”

“They got off the bus themselves,” Wendy said before Wirt could come up with some excuse as to why their parents weren’t around. “Apparently, they’re looking for an adventure. I figured this would be a good place to start.”

“Come on, Wirt.” Greg tugged on his arm. “Let’s go inside!”

“I don’t think….” This was the wrong place to start, but Greg was looking at him that way, and how much could he deny him? He was only here because of Wirt. He’d volunteered to go headlong into danger because of Wirt. Didn’t he deserve a bit of fun before that? “Um, you can go ahead of me, okay?”

He expected Greg to say something in protest, but he just chirped, “Okay!” and bounded through the door to the rest of the building. (Wirt wasn’t sure if it could properly be called a museum when it just looked like a tourist trap.) Mr. Mystery laughed and followed him, presumably to give whatever passed as a tour or maybe to make sure Greg didn’t break anything, which left Wirt with Wendy.

“Five bucks for kids,” she said. “Are you going in, too?”

“Um.” Wirt fumbled with his wallet for a moment before pulling out a bill and passing it to Wendy. “No. I can’t. I…geez, I didn’t think this through enough. Is there a good hotel in town? Or any hotel in town?” Now that he’d seen the size of this place—or rather, the size of the bus stop and one of the main tourist attractions—he was beginning to understand why there had been so little information about it in general. “I need to figure out where we’re going to stay.”

Wendy blew another bubble of gum and managed to answer without popping it. “Hotel’s not rebuilt yet. It wasn’t a priority, I guess; we don’t get a lot of people through here. But I can put in a good word with the guy who lives alone in the mansion on the hill if you don’t mind doing a few chores to earn your keep. That’ll mean more to him than money.”

Wirt was in no position to be picky, and it couldn’t be worse than what they’d encountered in the Unknown. “That would be great.”

Wendy sucked the bubble back into her mouth and then put her hands on the counter and leaned across towards him. “Consider it done, then. But really, Wirt, you wanna tell me why you’re here?”

He offered her a smile, though it probably wasn’t very believable. “We’re going on an adventure.”

“In Gravity Falls?”

He’d expected her to question why he and Greg were alone, not doubt their choice of destination. “Yes?” It came out sounding like a question, even to his ears.

“Why here?”

Wirt swallowed. “Why does the hotel need to be rebuilt?”

“Burned down,” Wendy answered without missing a beat. “But you, you’re here for a reason, aren’t you? Gravity Falls isn’t exactly a place you’d just pick off a map. So why come here?”

The truth was crazy. Wendy might have lived crazy, too, but Wirt didn’t know that for sure, so he settled on a piece of it. “A friend told me about it. She was going to be visiting here, too. She’s looking forward to Summerween.”

Wendy raised her eyebrows. “Summerween’s tonight,” she said, “and you can’t really expect me to believe that you’re following a girl out here when you came with your little brother.”

“It’s not like that,” Wirt insisted, his cheeks burning as if to give lie to his statement. He was kinda sorta dating Sara, if he could believe the life he’d been living here, and he hardly even knew Mabel. “I just owe her and her brother a favour.” They’d saved him, but Wendy wasn’t going to understand that, and saying it would invite more questions than he could answer. He was having enough trouble with this impromptu interrogation as it was.

Wendy’s eyes narrowed, but the next second, she was leaning back in her chair as if nothing was wrong. “Maybe I can help you then, kid. Who are you looking for?”

“Mabel,” Wirt answered, a little annoyed at being called a kid (he wasn’t even that much shorter than her; she didn’t need to treat him like he was Greg’s age) but not annoyed enough to make a big deal out of it when he could use her help.

Wendy sat up. “Mabel. You’re looking for Mabel? Mabel Pines?”

Pines sounded right, but he’d never been sure if that really was her last name. “Mabel and Dipper.” Wendy could take it as either confirmation or denial, depending on the truth. “They helped me with something.”

“When?”

The question was earnest, but Wirt wasn’t entirely sure why it mattered. “Last week.”

“Last Tuesday?”

That was oddly specific. “I don’t remember.”

Wendy sighed. “Look, I’ll be honest with you here, okay? You’re right. Mabel and Dipper are supposed to be here. But they’re not. They’ve gone missing. Their parents thought they might have run away to come here a bit early, but they never turned up, and if it’s a kidnapping, there’s been no ransom. When Stan and Ford caught wind of this, they started searching everywhere, but even they can’t find them.” She said this as if Stan and Ford were far more likely to find the twins than the police, who were undoubtedly also looking for them if they were missing.

But maybe they weren’t really missing.

He’d met them in the Unknown, after all.

Except that didn’t make sense. No matter how many times he tried to reconcile it, it didn’t add up. He and Greg had hardly been gone any time at all. They’d returned the same night despite spending more than one night in the Unknown. But then he’d woken up in the hospital again after being back in the Unknown. He remembered months of this reality, months he wasn’t even sure he’d really lived if he’d been in the Unknown all along. But it was summer now, just as it should be, and it had been summer for Mabel and Dipper, too…. But then again, the lantern had been burning brightly, the same lantern that the Woodsman had worked so tirelessly to keep lit. Left alone for too long, it should have gone out.

Something wasn’t right.

Something wasn’t real.

Or something was blurring the lines.

“I know that look.” Wendy again. “You know something. Please, tell me. They’re my friends, too.”

Why put signs in the woods, advertising where there was no road for them to be seen?

Wirt took a step back.

He never should have let Greg go off on his own. The Mystery Shack was small; that was to his advantage. If he yelled, Greg would hear him. But if he yelled, they would know—

Wendy vaulted over the counter, somehow easily clearing the various knickknacks and the jar of fake eyeballs for sale on the side. Her feet hit the floor with a thud. A hollow thud. There was a basement under here. He wondered whether this place, with all its fake attractions, hid its secrets below or above or in plain sight.

“Wirt. What do you know? Tell me. It’s important.”

Always doing what you’re told. Beatrice’s voice, sounding through his head. He hadn’t imagined meeting her any more than he had imagined meeting the twins, but if this wasn’t imagination, either….

If neither was imagination, then something was fabrication, and he didn’t know which. Not the twins, surely, if Wendy seemed to know them, but….

“Darkened dreams where demons run,” Wirt whispered as he took another step back, “twisting truth till all is done.”

Nice illusions make the best traps.

Just because he was free of the Unknown, it didn’t mean he was free of the Beast. This might be a trick, part of some plan he didn’t understand. He didn’t know what had happened. Dipper and Mabel must have done something, but what if he wasn’t really back? What if this was just the dream world? Did that mean that the Beast was controlling him back in the Unknown?

He stepped back against something—the vending machine, his memory supplied—and Wendy’s hand shot out to catch his arm. “Wirt! What’s going on? What demons are running around?”

He shook his head even as her grip tightened. That was just a snatch of poetry that seemed to fit his situation. Everything felt twisted, sculpted to suit the Beast, and he didn’t know—

Wendy pulled him up by his shirt and looked him in the eye. “Spill,” she hissed as he yelped and then found himself struggling for air, feet kicking uselessly against smooth plastic in an effort to find purchase and maybe help him get free. “Now. Dipper and Mabel are in trouble, and if you don’t tell me what you know—”

“Wirt!” came Greg’s cry, barely overrode by Mr. Mystery’s, “Wendy, what are you doing?”

Wendy dropped him, but one hand was closed around his wrist before he could run. “Soos, he knows what happened to Dipper and Mabel.”

Mr. Mystery—Soos—looked startled and put one of his hands on Greg’s head. It was meant to keep him from running as much as to calm him, Wirt suspected bitterly. “How could they know?”

“Don’t know. The squirt might be clueless, but this one definitely isn’t.”

“Wirt?” Greg asked slowly, giving truth to Wendy’s words. “What is she talking about?”

Wirt, not convinced he could break free of Wendy’s grip, just shook his head.

“I thought we came here for an adventure,” Greg said. “To help your friends. Like we helped Beatrice and she helped us.”

Wirt closed his eyes. “I wasn’t lying. I am trying to help them. But I need to figure out how first.” He looked at Greg, knowing he was the only one who was going to understand the significance of the next statement. “I met them in the Unknown.”

Wirt saw Soos and Wendy exchange glances as Greg tilted his head. “I don’t remember them.”

“That’s because you weren’t there.”

“But we got back together.”

Wirt shook his head again. “No. We didn’t. Or maybe we did and I…. I don’t know. I just know I was back there. And they helped me get back here. I think. I don’t know. I don’t know anything for sure. I can’t remember exactly what happened.” He turned to Wendy. “I think they might still be there.”

“And where exactly is there?” demanded Wendy.

“The Unknown,” Wirt repeated, knowing from Wendy’s narrowed eyes that she wasn’t impressed with that answer. “It’s…. I don’t know. It’s another place. People can get lost there, but things aren’t…. It’s not like here.”

“Another dimension?” asked Soos.

Wirt shrugged helplessly, but Wendy must have agreed because she finally released him. “Sounds like it. So how do we go there and bring them back?”

“I don’t know.”

“But you said—”

“I don’t know! I can’t remember. When I was with Greg, we got lost trying to find our way back to the main road. We didn’t even realize we’d crossed anything, let alone ended up in a different dimension if that’s really what it is.”

“Then how did you get out of there?”

Wirt hesitated, not sure how much he could trust his memories, and Greg said, “I just remember being cold and wet. Was that from the snow?”

“No, we’d fallen into the water. I managed to get us ashore.” If that memory was real. Maybe it had just been the snow. Or maybe…. But he didn’t want to think that this world was the fabrication. “That’s not what happened to me last time. I don’t know how I got back here. I didn’t even realize I’d left here and was back in the Unknown until I met Mabel and Dipper. I…. It’s like I woke up and they were there.”

Wendy crossed her arms. “So what do you know?”

Wirt spread his hands. “I don’t know how much of this is accurate. The Beast…. The Beast is a demon, I guess. He haunts the forest and feeds on lost souls, and he was….” Wirt stopped. There was no good way to say this. “Dipper thought the Beast had been controlling me—”

“But he had to let you go!” Greg cried. “He promised. You could go home if I stayed with him instead.”

Wirt’s chest tightened as Greg confirmed the twins’ theory. He hadn’t wanted that part to be right. He didn’t want to think that Greg would ever feel obliged to give up so much for him. He was the little brother; it was Wirt’s job to protect him, not the other way around. He’d done a terrible job of it.

“You’re not there now, kiddo,” Wendy said, “which might explain some of this.” She had taken up a defensive stance and didn’t take her eyes off Wirt.

Soos held up one finger. “Um, quick thing, but had been controlling you? As in not any longer or not currently? That seems like an important distinction.”

Wirt sighed. “I’m not sure about that, either,” he admitted. “Dipper thought he could find a loophole so that it would be over, and maybe that’s what happened. Maybe that’s why I’m back here now.” Hopefully.

“But you never left,” Greg said in a small voice.

Wirt swallowed. “I was in the hospital last Tuesday, wasn’t I?”

Greg nodded. “The fever wouldn’t break. Mom took you in the night before.”

Wendy looked from Wirt to Greg and back again before stating the obvious. “So you don’t know if you’re really safe. All you know is that you’re back here. Without the Beast, as far as you can tell.” From her tone, she could guess a number of the things he hadn’t explicitly said. Wirt nodded anyway. “And he’s haunting your dreams?”

“Not…. Well, maybe? I…. I’m not actually sure. It’s complicated. I think…. I think he’s been pulling me back into the Unknown somehow.” It made his stomach twist to think about it. If neither world was a fabrication, then maybe he had been living in two different realities. Maybe the reason he never seemed to lose much time was because he was back under the Beast’s control whenever he was close enough to the In Between for the Beast to reach out and pull him through to the Unknown.

Whenever he slept. Whenever he dreamed. If he’d left a piece of himself back in the Unknown—

“Is this my fault?” whispered Greg.

“No, it’s not.” Wirt stared at Wendy, daring her to contradict him. She didn’t. Maybe she had a little brother, too. He hesitated and looked over at Greg. “You escaped. You’re free. That’s the important part. So try not to blame yourself for my mistakes. Can you do that?”

Greg nodded.

Wirt bit his lip. “I wish I understood this better. I’d give anythi—”

Wendy’s hand was suddenly clamped over his mouth. “Don’t finish that thought. Don’t even think it. That’s too dangerous, even in here. He’s too close.”

Who’s too close? But Wirt knew the answer to that, now that he knew the Beast wasn’t the only demon to roam the realms. Mabel and Dipper had been worried about Bill Cipher. He, too, was supposed to be gone, just like the Beast, but—

It’s usually not that easy to get rid of a demon.

Since Dipper had evidently been talking from experience, he should know. But they wouldn’t have told Wirt about their demon unless they suspected he could still get to them despite whatever they had done. Hadn’t they thought this Bill Cipher was the one who had trapped them in the Unknown? Maybe demons liked deals enough to strike them with each other and this one ensured the Pines twins were lost in the woods so the Beast could claim them.

In all fairness, Wirt wasn’t exactly sure someone like Mabel could ever be claimed by the Beast—she was entirely too much like Greg for that to happen any way but deliberately—but it wasn’t likely that demons actually struck fair deals.

Whatever had been between him and the Beast…. He had to hope that it was over, that Dipper had successfully found a loophole. Except it couldn’t be over, not if Mabel and Dipper were still in there. He’d…he’d have to find a way back. Not with Greg; he wouldn’t risk Greg again. And he might not know Wendy or Soos, but he didn’t really want to risk them, either.

If…if he didn’t come back, someone would have to see Greg home, and Wirt was sure they’d do that.

“I’m calling Stan,” Wendy said, putting her cell phone up to her ear. “He and Ford need to hear everything you can tell them. Until they get here, stay at Old Man McGucket’s. No exploring. We can’t risk that.”

“Risk what?” Greg asked, looking up at Soos.

No one answered.

Wirt had no idea where Stan and Ford had been coming from, but the Pines brothers arrived at Gravity Falls within two hours. Wendy had insisted on babysitting them in the meantime, even though Greg had spent much of that time happily chatting with Fiddleford McGucket, the man who owned the mansion Wendy had mentioned. Wirt wasn’t entirely sure how someone like Fiddleford could afford to live here, but he knew better than to ask. He was just grateful to have a roof over their heads while they were here.

Wirt had half-hoped that Greg would set off exploring the mansion before everyone else arrived, but he listened very attentively as Wirt recounted what he remembered. Soos had closed up shop for the occasion, but even with Greg counting among Wirt’s audience of six, it felt like there were too many people here. This was his story. His mistake. Did they really all need to bear witness to it?

Wirt knew that was silly; it just meant he had six more people who could help him figure this out. And as reluctant as he had been to involve Greg, having his brother here helped to ground him. Of course, Greg would occasionally chime in with questions Wirt couldn’t answer—Was the lake near where we took the ferry to Adelaide’s? So what happened to the Woodsman? Couldn’t you have wished on a star and visited Cloud City, too?—which invariably led to a discussion of the first time they’d ended up in the Unknown. Greg remembered that time with far more fondness than Wirt did. To him, it really had just been an adventure.

Not a nightmare.

The discussion invariably turned to ways to get Dipper and Mabel back safely. While the others started arguing over different tactics and possible strategies, Ford pulled Wirt into another room. Wirt might not have been able to figure out who was who right after meeting Stan and Ford, but it became very clear that Ford was the more serious of the two, for all that everyone seemed to care deeply about the younger Pines twins. Stan liked to joke, coming up with crazy ideas that must have some hope of working since they weren’t immediately dismissed by the others, while Ford….

Ford had a look in his eye Wirt recognized from the face that had been haunting him in the mirror since he’d woken up in that hospital room. There was grim determination in there, sure, but it was touched by fear. Not just fear of the unknown, of not knowing what had happened, but fear born of the intimate knowledge of what may have happened.

It made Wirt think there had been far more going on in this town than the newspapers had ever reported, even the columns that seemed at first glance to be fanciful stories written merely for entertainment.

The door shut on the others, closing them off, and Ford turned to Wirt. “I’m not going to leave those kids to the mercy of another demon,” he said quietly, “but I’m not about to dismiss the possibility that this is a trick, either. I’ve been tricked too many times to blindly believe anything anymore.”

Wirt didn’t know what to say to that—he still didn’t know if this was a trick, either—so he just nodded.

“If Dipper was right, and I have no reason to believe he wasn’t, you were possessed by the Beast. Whether or not Dipper truly found a loophole in your deal with him is a moot point as long as that connection is still there. We’ll need to break that to prevent further interpretations of your contract, especially if you aren’t sure of the terms.”

Wirt opened his mouth to ask how he was supposed to do that when Ford added, “But until then, we can use that connection to our advantage.”

“How?”

Ford smiled, but it was far from reassuring. “Meet me at the Mystery Shack in three hours, and I’ll show you.”

Soos apparently had to go out for a family dinner at the local café—Wirt didn’t ask, though there was obviously more to the story judging by the looks he’d received—and Stan had muttered about seeing to a few things so they could mount the rescue mission. Fiddleford had gotten excited about this prospect and stuck to Stan like glue, which he hadn’t looked thrilled about. Ford had obviously been expected to join them, but he’d said something about splitting up in order to have enough time to cover everything. The argument had still been going on when Wendy had pulled them away and told them to find costumes to wear.

She had agreed to take them out for Summerween before she met up with her friends, though she did say it would be fine if they decided to stick around. When Wendy had handed them both pails for candy, Wirt hadn’t argued. He didn’t mind the implication that he needed a babysitter this time; now, it worked to his advantage. It meant he could be sure Greg was sufficiently distracted.

Ford had never told him to come alone, but if Wirt was going to keep Greg out of this, he had to be sneaky about it. When they were passing the edge of town nearest the Mystery Shack, Wirt bent down to tie his shoe and waved the others ahead, promising that he’d catch up soon. By some stroke of luck, Greg believed him, and Wendy—if she had any doubts—didn’t call him on it.

Wirt fiddled with his shoelace for a few moments, waiting for them to get farther ahead before running into the woods. This time, the random signage was to his advantage, and he’d smuggled a flashlight along with a first aid kit under his cloak, so he could see where he was going without depending on the light of the (admittedly waxing) moon now that the sun had set.

Despite that, he nearly jumped out of his skin when a voice said, “That disguise won’t fool anyone.”

Wirt scrambled for the fallen flashlight before climbing back to his feet and brushing at his clothes. He swung the flashlight around wildly, looking for the source of the voice. The beam bounced off tree trunks and broken branches, leafy shrubs and spider webs, but nothing— “Who’s there?”

“Little lower there, Stretch. We ain’t all as tall as you.”

Wirt swallowed but lowered the flashlight. If he weren’t already acquainted with talking frogs, pumpkin-wearing skeletons, or bluebirds that had once been people, he would have found the idea of gnomes more disconcerting. Self-consciously, he straightened his hat. “Um…can I help you?”

“More me that’s helping you, unless you’re going to take over my post. I pulled the short straw when Shmebulock overindulged again.” The gnome squinted at Wirt and scratched at his grey beard. “No, you’re not from here. You’re one of those that’ve been drawn here.”

Wirt blinked. “What?”

The gnome pointed in the direction Wirt had been running. “The statue. It calls some of ‘em. Like you. ‘Smy job to make sure you don’t get where you’re going. So turn around or I’ll raise the alarm.”

“What?”

“Go on. Turn. Go back wherever you came from.”

“But…. I can’t.”

“Suit yourself,” said the gnome, and then he whistled, a shrill piercing thing that had Wirt wincing and reaching to cover his ears.

The whistle cut off abruptly. Wirt lowered his hands slowly, noticing an increased rustling in the underbrush that he wasn’t naïve enough to attribute to wind or the usual forest wildlife. And then his sweeping flashlight beam caught a second gnome, and a third, and then he started seeing them by the dozens.

He took a step back. “You don’t understand.”

“We understand plenty,” the first gnome said, grinning in a feral way that showed off rows of sharp teeth. He didn’t advance, but Wirt had no illusions about what would happen if he tried to continue in this direction. He didn’t want to get mobbed.

Wirt took another step back and shook his head, for all the good that would do. “I don’t care about whatever statue thing you’re talking about. I just need to get to the Mystery Shack.”

More gnomes had appeared, every eye tracking him. It was unnerving.

Wirt didn’t know what else to do, so he kept talking. “I’m—I’m trying to help my friends. Maybe you know them. Mabel and Dipper Pines?”

The hushed silence erupted into chatter, and finally a different gnome stepped forward, this one looking younger than most of the others. “You are acting on behalf of Mabel?”

“Um…I guess?”

“Or for Mabel?”

“Uh.” Wirt didn’t know why this mattered. “For her? She and Dipper—”

“We could tie him up,” a third gnome suggested.

“Throw him in the lake,” said another.

“—gag him—”

“—leave ‘im for the Manotaurs—”

“—the Multi-Bear—”

Wirt didn’t understand half of the snippets of conversation he caught, but he didn’t need to. “She needs my help!” he yelled over the din. “They both do. And they won’t get that if I can’t get to the Mystery Shack.”

The gnome who had been questioning him held up a hand, and with some grumblings, the others quieted. “Carson, escort him to the Mystery Shack. Don’t show him any mercy if he tries to lose you and double back. Steve and Jason, take his shift. Looks like this is an extra security night.” There were a few more mutterings, but no one challenged the arrangement, and Wirt soon found himself with the first gnome as his escort.

The others—except, presumably, for Steve and Jason, and the brown-bearded one who had been giving orders—vanished with unsettling stealth, quite different from the show they’d made in appearing.

Wirt, happy enough to leave behind whatever that had been, followed Carson in silence for a moment before finally asking, “What statue?”

“We don’t talk about it.”

“But I don’t know what it is!”

“That’s the way to keep it.”

“But what did you mean when you said I was drawn to it?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“But—”

“No one’ll tell you differently.” Carson picked up his pace, moving much faster than something with such short legs should. Wirt ended up practically jogging after him and spending all his energy trying to keep the gnome in sight and not eating a mouthful of dirt, which effectively put an end to the questioning.

He panicked when he finally lost sight of Carson entirely, only to hear, “Thanks for the candy, Stretch!” and realize that he could see the Mystery Shack through the trees—and remember that his candy pail had been left behind in the forest.

It was a good trade, as far as Wirt was concerned. He would’ve ended up giving most of his candy to Greg anyway.

Barring a few flickering lights, the Mystery Shack was mostly dark when Wirt approached. The steps creaked under his weight, and he suddenly found its name much more fitting in this atmosphere. He knocked twice and tried the door. It was unlocked, but all he saw inside was a lava lamp set up on the counter by the cash register and the glow of the vending machine on the opposite wall.

“You sure you know what you’re getting into?”

Wirt shrieked and spun. That hadn’t been Carson’s voice, nor Ford’s. It had almost sounded like—

His flashlight beam caught the wax head of Larry King.

It winked at him.

He turned away quickly, sliding down to sit with his back against the counter. Maybe this was all a mistake. Surely this place was just proof that he wasn’t really back in the real world yet, that this was all just another fabrication—

The vending machine’s buttons suddenly lit up in a particular pattern. As he watched, it silently swung forward as if it were on a hinge to reveal a gaping hole. Somewhere below, light pulsed. Wirt could just make out stairs before darkness ate away at them again.

In for a penny, in for a pound?

He climbed back to his feet and aimed his flashlight at the stairs. They looked sturdy enough, and obviously someone was already down there….

He went carefully, keeping one hand along the wall above what looked to be the remains of a missing railing. The other hand held the flashlight so it illuminated both his feet and the stairs before him. Very quickly, however, he didn’t need it; the light from below grew stronger, and as he put his flashlight away, he found himself in a laboratory of some sort.

Correction: what had once been a laboratory of some sort and had since been abandoned.

Wirt’s eyes swept over a number of exposed wires and clearly cobbled-together circuitry that were visible under the flickering lights. More than one screen had odd stripes of colour across it, and a couple were even cracked. He bit his lip and edged away from the nearest shower of sparks coming from a thick cable connected to a lever sticking out of the floor. The movement didn’t take him any nearer Ford, who was bending over some kind of key panel. “Is this…safe?”

Ford didn’t even turn around. “No.”

“Then why are we even down here? This place looks like a fire waiting to happen!”

This time, Ford did look at Wirt. “We don’t have a choice. We need to rip a hole into another dimension. I’ve done what repairs I can in the time we have, but I don’t want to leave Dipper and Mabel in another nightmare for any longer than I have to. Now come here. I need to analyze your brainwaves if I’m going to find the right dimension.”

“You…what?”

Ford sighed. “That Unknown of yours isn’t the only dimension. If the Beast is tied to it and you’re tied to the Beast, then you’re the best option for finding the right place. We’re much safer if we aren’t doing this blind, and from the sounds of it, you’ve been there frequently.” He held up his hands, which contained what looked like suction cups on the end of wires. “Come here.”

Wirt swallowed but allowed Ford to attach him to the machine. “What happens if this goes wrong?”

“Depending on what happens, you might not even know.”

“Comforting,” Wirt muttered. His fingers tightened their grip on his hat and twisted. “What, uh, are you hoping is going to happen?”

“Something I never wanted to see again.” Ford handed him a length of rope and a clip, pointed to a metal grip attached to the console, and added, “Tie yourself on.”

Wirt did as he was told, trying his best to mimic Ford’s own makeshift harness as the man fiddled with something on the console. The numbers on the nearest screen looked specific, but they weren’t coordinates. If it was part of a code, it seemed too complicated to be easily broken, even by someone like Ford who talked as if he’d done this sort of thing before. The numbers changed even when Ford seemed to barely touch a dial, and it all looked a little too much like guesswork for Wirt’s comfort. Needing a rope didn’t exactly fill him with confidence, either. “What’s this for?”

In answer, Ford walked over to a giant lever on the floor and threw his weight into pushing it forward.

Light exploded.

Wirt squawked and instinctively closed his eyes, but it wasn’t enough. Colours danced against his eyelids, red shining through, and then—

Darkness began eating away at the light, a tiny solar eclipse.

Gravity decided to stop working properly.

Wirt’s hat was torn from his grip. He saw it fly through the portal, there and gone in the blink of an eye. He was already feet first towards it, so he twisted in a futile attempt to reach the tiny metal handle he’d attached himself to. He could see the knot of his harness slipping, weaker than the pull of the portal.

The wires tore loose from his head.

Behind him, the portal flickered.

“Just hold on!” Ford yelled. “I’m going to bring them back.” He was reaching to unclip his own harness, to let the portal drag him in. “Just keep the doorway open!”

The knot worked itself free.

Rope burned through his grip as he flew backwards.

Wirt’s scream was torn from his throat, and then the lab—Ford—everything—was gone.

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[webcricket]

It’s Only Castles Burning

Pairing: CastielXReader

Word Count: 4745 

Summary: Established CastielXReader. Powered up with the souls of purgatory, Castiel forsakes his friends, exacts punishment upon his foes in Heaven, and begins to do God’s work on Earth. Feared by everyone he encounters, he seeks out the only person who ever seemed to truly understand his motives as hitchhiker leviathans progressively overpower his will and corrupt his vessel from within.

A/N: One-shot written for @roxy-davenport​​ / Lexie’s SPN Birthday Challenge with prompt pairing Leviathan!Cas X Fem!Reader (see also Godstiel and Dom!Cas), claiming, biting smut, movie Amityville Horror 2005 (in which Cas’ vessel is the metaphorical evil house), and quote “Get your hands off her!” Written erotica content warning – specifically, oral (male receiving), pinned spooning, and mentions of cowgirl/denied orgasm. Italicized quotes are direct excerpts from SPN episode 7X01 Meet the New Boss and 7X02 Hello, Cruel World and are not mine – fic is set during the time period of these episodes with canonically dark themes and descriptions of physical violence consistent with Cas’ character arc and the leviathans. All things considered, I think I managed to keep it a tiny bit fluffy (you know, considering what happens in 7X02).

Scanning the pallid faces of the Winchesters and Bobby Singer, Castiel perceived only fear. These humans he once called friends did not love him, did not respect him.

“Stop, what’s the point if you don’t mean it. You fear me, not love, not respect, just fear.”

Castiel won – victor in the battle for Heaven and Earth against Raphael. In affront to the misgivings of his so-called friends, he also managed to out-maneuver the King of Hell at his own manipulative game. Castiel deserved this power – this glory, and they had the audacity to deny it to him. The betrayal disappointed him, but the frustration of utter terror radiating from their souls rather than awe of his newfound authority infuriated the seraph turned God. However, Castiel was a just and merciful God, and although disloyalty demands justice, these men were one-time allies - flawed men deserving of mercy.

“Be thankful for my mercy.”

Despite their indiscretions, he spared their lives with a warning he knew they were not likely to heed.

“I hope for your sake this is the last time you see me.”

“Bobby, slow down,” woozy from a precipitous rush of adrenaline, you sat on the edge of the musty motel bed, worn springs creaking in recoil.

“That idjit opened purgatory and drank every last soul. Now he’s juiced up and calling himself the new God,” Bobby’s exasperated voice exclaimed over the tinny speaker of the phone held in your wobbly hands.

You absorbed the news, the beginnings of a relieved grin sprawling across your features. Cas told you of his plan, and you supported him however you could, even splitting alliances with the brothers and the old hunter on account of your romantic involvement with the angel. Sure, you had doubts about him acting behind the backs of Sam and Dean, but this was about the greater good, and the brothers were a stubborn lot - leaving out certain details saved valuable time, and stopping the next apocalypse was infinitely more important than the Winchesters’ hurt feelings. Amorously skewed loyalties aside, Cas presented the best game plan and you backed him.

“You hearing me, girl?” Bobby’s tone rose an octave, snapping your awareness to the present.

“Yeah, got it, new God. What about Raphael?” You queried - after all, eliminating the archangel was the whole point of the crazy endeavor. If he was still out there, inciting the angels to rise against humanity, the danger hadn’t yet passed.

“Bloody writing on the wall,” the old hunter grumbled.

“And Crowley?” You wondered, already gathering Cas must have duped Crowley too. You’d anticipated the scheming king double crossing him, reminding the angel he had a tendency to be too trusting and that the former crossroad’s demon always had a loophole when it came to power grabs.

“In the wind,” Bobby answered.

“Damnit Bobby, he did it! I knew he would!” You didn’t attempt to mask the unleashing of joy - you were proud of your angel. Silence answered your triumphant exclamation and celebratory squeals. Rolling your eyes derisively, you muttered into the phone, “Bobby, look. I know you and those boys don’t agree with the method, but what’s the problem? All’s well that ends-”

“Y/N, he’s got to be stopped. You didn’t see him, it’s not Cas anymore,” Dean’s gruff voice interrupted.

“Dean,” you spoke his name through gritted teeth. “Stopped?” You instantly realized where Dean was going with this - he intended to use you to get to the angel, “So you’re calling me ‘cause you think I’m the chink in his armor, right?”

“I wouldn’t put it like that, but yeah, if the shoe fits,” Dean replied. “He might let his guard down with you, even now. I know how you feel about him Y/N, but-”

“What do you expect me to do Dean, bat my lashes, say come hither, and stab him in the heart with an angel blade?” You spat, vitriolic.

“Sam already tried it. Didn’t work,” Dean stated flatly, without remorse.

Bristling with fury at his nonchalance, you jumped to your feet, stomping across the dank carpet, snarling into the receiver, “You tried to kill him? Castiel? Our Cas? You tried to kill him and now you’re asking for my help to do the same. After everything he’s done for us, for you. It wasn’t enough for you to refuse to support him when he needed you the most, when he begged you for your help, now you want him dead. No Dean, I can’t...I’ll never help you hurt him. I’d sooner die!”

“That may be exactly what happens the next time you see him, sweetheart.”

“He left you alive after you tried to kill him. Makes him a better man than me,” you retorted with a snort. Dean was wrong. Castiel’s heart perpetually dwelt in the right place, why couldn’t Dean understand? You picked absent-mindedly at the peeling wallpaper beside the window, inhaling a quietening breath, intent on winning the hunter over to your opinion, “Come on Dean, it’s Cas. He’d never hurt us.”

“Wouldn’t he? Try telling that to Sam. His mind’s broken,” Dean groused. “You didn’t see him. All that power. Y/N, it changed him.”

“He’d never hurt me,” you murmured, knuckles tensed cold and white around the phone as your hand slumped to your side. You felt sorry for Sam, you sincerely did. But the angel would never harm you, he loved you – he’d told you as much before the eclipse when he tucked you safely away in this warded motel room in case he failed - in case Raphael sought vengeance or Crowley got vindictive. You knew power could change people, but Cas wasn’t people. If he was calling himself God, if he didn’t fix Sam, then he must have a very good reason. Dean was biased, judgement clouded, he would always choose his brother over everything else. Embracing free will, Cas chose you. Exercising free will, you chose Cas. You trusted the angel implicitly, reiterating under your breath, “Never.”

Dean’s defeated warning pierced the quiet, “Yeah, well I guess we’ll see about that. I suggest you lay low, stay off his radar. Find somewhere safe, ward it for all the good it will do. And Y/N, when he shows up, when you finally understand, you know where to find us.”

Lip twitching indignantly, you swiped the screen of the phone, ending the call - as if you would ever hide from the angel to whom you’d given your heart. Gaze rising to the water-stained ceiling, directing your longing heavenward, you prayed, “Castiel?”

The new God first restored order in Heaven. If the demonstration of his righteous leadership and consequences for insubordination required the sacrifice of thousands of disloyal angels, he could only view those brethren as inconsequential collateral damage in the grander scheme.

“Be obedient children.”

With this stern cautioning, Castiel sensed a resounding shudder of angelic trepidation. Here he was, assuming the vacant role of their father, selflessly accepting the responsibility to guide and nurture them, something they’d yearned for – and where love and fidelity should reside, there existed only a thinly veiled terror. It didn’t make sense, his brothers and sisters should be exultant, not ungrateful. Tone tempered, attempting to allay their doubts, he decreed.

“Rejoice.”

Three full days, a tad beyond 72 hours since Bobby’s phone call, a dozen ignored calls from Sam and Dean, and still Castiel failed to answer your litany of prayers. Dithering betwixt fitful slumber and anxious wakefulness, you tossed uncomfortably on the worn mattress, flinging off threadbare sheets, skin sticky and sheened with sweat on account of the air conditioner having broken the night before. The manager offered you a new room, but you refused to leave – this is where Cas left you, and here you would remain.

“Y/N.”

Eyes popping open, legs flailing, you scrambled backward in alarm, shoulder blades knocking on the headboard, which, being screwed into the wall, was the only thing in this Godforsaken roach nest that didn’t creak when you touched it.

Castiel lingered in shadow near the window, passively observing as you blinked the sleep from your eyes.

“Cas? Cas!” Leaping off the bed at the angel, you draped your arms about his immovable frame, peppering his mouth and jaw with relieved kisses. So overcome with elation, you didn’t notice his failure to return your affection, “I was so worried, Dean said-”

Cas’ eyes narrowed at the mention of that name, roughly grabbing you by the upper arms to peel you off his body. He wondered if he had dallied too long in his return, if Dean had already poisoned you against him.

You wriggled in protest at the loss of contact, clutching the lapels of his trench coat, imploring, “Cas, what’s wrong?”

Brow furrowed, he cocked his head almost imperceptibly to the left, austerely regarding you, eyes glinting dangerously red in the harsh light of the neon motel vacancy sign bleeding through the paper thin curtains. “Kneel,” he commanded, the subtle tensing of his stubbled jaw suggesting he expected you to refuse, to disappoint him as all the others had.

Focus locked on his dark gaze, legs weakened by awakening arousal, you did not hesitate to comply, dropping to your knees, suggestively trailing your fingertips down the front of his body as you did so. Staring up in expectant silence, your heart pounded, every beat resounding with adoration and love. Dean was wrong. Cas stood before you, your Cas, peering at you through those same expressive sapphire eyes – not a single facet of color shined upon you with malice. You held no fear in your heart of the angel.

The lines of his face softening incrementally, he reached out. Extending long fingers to brush your cheek - he felt no recoil from his touch, recognized no anxiety in your features, and distinguished only devotion toward him dwelling within your soul. He would never tell you he intentionally avoided you these past few days, unaware himself that he was petrified of your potential reaction, of seeing the same fear he saw in Sam and Dean and Bobby and his own kin mirrored on your face – knowing your rejection would kill the only part of him that mattered, the part capable of love. A pleased smile impressed upon his mouth at your open acceptance of his authority.

“Cas,” shutting your eyes, you exhaled his name, leaning into his caress, “I missed you so much.”

“I know,” he tenderly traced the bowed edges of your lips, “but there was and is much work for me to do.” The calloused pad of his thumb parted your pink lips, “Still, I think you’ve been patient enough, my love.”

Your heart fluttered at the term of endearment, eyes flickering open to search his lust-darkened pupils, a flood of heat gushing in your center at the domineering way he gazed down upon you. You swallowed a whimper, fingers kneading his thickly muscular thighs, “Would you like to know exactly how much I missed you?”

A low growl erupted from his chest as he tangled his fingers in your hair, bending to crush your mouth with a needy kiss – lips rough and insistent, sucking and bruising your own, tongue invading to devour your taste.

Blindly fumbling with his belt buckle, you grazed his already hardening length.

He emancipated your mouth with a groan, tightening his grip on your hair, snaking an arm around your waist to haul you to your feet, teeth ravishing and marking the delicate sweat-salted skin of your collarbone, claiming you as his own.

You stifled a squeal at the pleasurable sting of his bites, palming and squeezing his clothed arousal in retaliation, nipping at his earlobe, whispering, “Castiel, let me worship you.”

He angled away from you, freeing his fingers from your hair, a gratified smile curving the corner of his mouth and conveying approval at your choice of words. Nodding once, he assented to a demonstration of your veneration.

Sauntering around the angel with a simper, you tugged at the collars of his trench coat and suit jacket, stripping him simultaneously of the burdensome garments. Pressing your heated body to his broad back, hands delving beneath his arms to travel the landscape of his chest, you loosened and yanked free his tie, unfastening buttons as your fingers happened upon them in their wanderings, nails raking the exposed planes of flesh.

His muscles went rigid in anticipation beneath your touch.

Yanking off his shirt, laving his shoulders in a meandering line of wet open mouthed kisses, your hands journeyed ever lower – unbuttoning and unzipping his trousers, you slid them and his boxers to his ankles, liberating his straining cock.

He groaned, peering back at you, kicking off his boots and the puddled fabric around his feet, compelling you with hooded eyes to continue.

Grasping the base of his cock, you stepped around the angel, stroking him excruciatingly slow, standing up on tip-toes to nibble the prickly angle of his jaw, biting and drawing his lower lip through your teeth. Twisting your wrist, spurring a swell of knee-wobbling pleasure to course through him, you flaunted a sultry smirk, “Do you have any idea how much I adore this perfect vessel of yours Castiel? This temple?”

“Show me,” he growled, hardening in your grip.

You knelt before him, not needing to be commanded, licking and wetting your lips as you admired his perfect cock. Maintaining eye contact, you dragged your tongue over his slit, spreading the beaded pre-cum around the smooth tip with a widening swirling motion.

Blue eyes snapping forcefully closed, he raggedly panted your name mingled with praising words of Enochian.

Diverting your attention lower, you fondled his balls, massaging with increasing pressure the hypersensitive patch of skin behind them. Steadying his strained lurch forward with a palm flattened to his thigh, you licked a broad glistening stripe up the fleshy ridged underside of his cock, stroking him vigorously with clamped fingers in the wake of your tongue, kissing his purple engorged tip dotingly. Blowing puffs of cooling air teasingly across his saliva coated tip, you glanced up innocently for the pure indulgence of beholding his wanton reaction.

His fingers flew to snarl in your hair, blackened pupils fixed upon you, countenance wrecked, growling through clenched teeth, “Continue.”

You grinned, amused at his persistent illusion of control, content in the knowledge he was all yours in this moment to do with as you pleased. Flicking your tongue across his tip, provoking a series of small needy groans from his throat, you wrapped your lips around him, cheeks hollow and suckling as you sank him further into the inviting warmth and wetness.

He involuntarily bucked deeper into your throat, head dipping back with a rumbling growl, fingers twisting locks of hair as he fought the urge to impatiently pound into your gullet and take what he needed.

Bobbing up and down his cock in a steady rhythm, fingers enclosed around his shaft to stroke what you could not comfortably take into your throat, you alternated the sucking pressure of your lips around his girth and feather-light scrapes of your teeth with the twirling caress of your tongue at his sensitive tip. Feeling his cock swell and jerk against your tongue, you hummed - the vibration overwhelming the angel.

Muscles rippling involuntarily, abdomen tensing concave at the climax of blissful surrender, fingers scrabbling at your scalp, he cried out your name.

Moaning around his cock, you drank the hot spurts of his release. Shaking subsiding, you slid his softening length from your mouth with a sated sigh, clambering up his still unsteady naked frame, you cupped his cheeks and scattered his face with dainty kisses.

Winding his arms about your waist, hugging you closer, accosting your mouth with a passionate kiss, he closed his eyes, groaning at the taste of himself on your tongue, intoxicated by your absolute reverence. Desiring to reward your piety, he banished your clothing with a thought and scooped you into his arms.

Giggling, you bounced when he tossed you on the squeakily protesting mattress. Squirming to the middle of the bed, you skimmed a finger through the drenched folds of your sex, beckoning him closer with the arousal glossed digit, “My God Cas, I’m so wet for you.”

Crawling to hover over you, bending your knees together to the side, cock again rigid and prodding your ass, he growled, “What did you say?”

You smirked knowingly, goading his lust, “My…God.”

Planting an arm firmly behind your uppermost knee and the other at your waist, caging you in, limiting the potential for your movement, he nudged his cock at your sodden entrance, breath hotly ghosting over your neck, “Say it again.”

“M-my,” you moaned as sank into you with a single powerful thrust, “God!”

He bit his teeth into your shoulder, nearly hard enough to draw blood, the contrasting tingle of pain serving only to heighten your pleasure. Withdrawing completely and plunging deeper than before, stretching you with a singe of white hot ecstasy, he growled, “Again.”

“Oh God,” you keened, fingers digging into his biceps, desperate for purchase as he relentlessly drove into you, “Cas-Castiel!” Whimpering, unable to move within the secure restraint of his arms, you arched your back as sparks of pleasure ignited in your core under the merciless thrust of his hips setting your whole body aquiver. Salacious moans, fervent grunts, the weary creak of the old bed, and the sinfully lewd sound of skin slapping skin intensified the steamy atmosphere of the room.

“Touch yourself,” he ordered, breaking breathlessly from your lips to lavish your breast with his tongue.

Every nerve ending aflame, you obeyed, slipping quivering fingers between slickened thighs to rub circles over your engorged clit, gasping, “Cas, I’m so close.”

“Then come for me Y/N,” he snarled in your ear, altering the angle of his hips to directly strike your sweet spot.

“Oh, God!” You screamed, body engulfed in a blazing release of bliss, nails clawing into the muscles of his arms, pussy convulsing around his thick cock.

Hips faltering, he tensed and juddered, head burrowing into your neck with a groan, cock twitching to fill you with warmth. Collapsing on you, your bodies shook together for some time with small aftershocks of pleasure as he tenderly kissed your swollen lips. Rolling to cuddle you from behind, cock slipping from your center, combined releases leaking hotly down your thigh, he anchored your spent figure snug to his heaving chest. Affectionately nuzzling your sweat soaked hair, he realized he had been wrong to ever doubt your love for the simple fact you were the one human in all of creation who never doubted him.

Hypocrites, bigots, motivational speakers – no one was immune to cleansing under the reign of Castiel. Mitigated by your love, he worked in equal shares of miracles too - healing the infirmed and afflicted, restoring sight to the blind, feeding the famished. As he exercised his seemingly boundless power, something wicked began to stir in the darkest recesses of his vessel, attracted instinctively to surface by the scent of fear which seemed to surround the angel wherever he journeyed. Castiel first heard their voices and felt their dreadful burden in a church after smiting an irreverent reverend.

“Castiel? Cas.”

Castiel paid no more head to their cries than he would the buzz of a fly - yet some part of him acknowledged the very same fly as a harbinger of ill. That evening, when he returned to share your bed and indulge in the carnal pleasures of your company as he had done every night since your demonstration of faith, he seemed different – distant, hesitating to meet your questioning eyes, unwilling to boast about the day’s accomplishments, flinching under your loving touch. Bodies tangled together in the dark, mind spiraling from the sensory overload of intense orgasm, serenely combing your fingers through his soft dark curls, you had no way to know it was the beginning of the end.

The rebelling darkness Castiel harbored nourished and strengthened itself on the unacknowledged fear within himself triggered by fracturing control, finally cracking the surface of his vessel after a confrontation with Crowley wherein he dictated in no uncertain terms the demon’s newly perfunctory role in Hell as a figurehead king answering to God. Disconcerted by the minor outward lesion on his vessel, but nonetheless emboldened with power, Castiel discounted their scraping merely as a passing itch – there would be time to deal with them later, when the work was done. That night, deeply undulating your hips against the angel as you rode his cock, mewling, pussy throbbing and close to orgasm, his fingers dug into your ass, abruptly shoving you from his body. He rolled from the bed, staggering into the bathroom.

“Fraud. Charlatan!” The voices screamed ominously inside him, “Too weak. Mistake. Let us out.”

Cas buckled over the counter with a pained groan, blinking into the hazy mirror, running cool water to splash his perspiration beaded skin.

Dazed at the precipice of release, you crept to the edge of the mattress, calling out shakily after him, “Cas, what’s wrong?”

Scrutinizing the newly deteriorating flesh of his vessel’s cheeks in the mirror, he lied, “Nothing. Just-just stay in bed. I’ll be back in a minute.”

“Let us out!” The voices insisted, stretching and clawing out from his abdomen.

“No.” Cas growled under his breath.

Easing out of bed, unconvinced and alarmed by his strange affect, you padded softly barefoot toward the open bathroom door. Crossing the threshold, you found the room empty, clear cold water overflowing the sink to splash the tiled floor, “Cas?!”

The meddling Winchesters, as expected, were unable to leave well enough alone – unwilling to acquiesce to a simple request in exchange for their mercifully permitted existence, ever ready to forfeit their lives to save the world from what was it this time - order? Peace? God’s love? Stupid little ants, Cas sneered even as his vessel decayed before them, as control slipped from his tenuous grasp. Why couldn’t they be more like you? Love him? Or at the very least, trust him?

“You look awfully like a mutated angel to me. Your vessel’s melting. You’re going to explode. You think you’re simply under the weight of all those souls, yes? But that’s not the worst problem. There are things much older than souls in purgatory, and you gulped those in too.”

Death, summoned by the hunters to kill Castiel, named the ancient evil corrupting his vessel – leviathans.

“Irrelevant. I control them.”

Fists clenched, muscles straining with exertion, Cas did not fear Death. Death was ancient as his father, present at the dawn of creation, and if he could control Death himself, why should he fear leviathans? No matter. The Winchesters weren’t a threat. They failed, and he had work to attend to in the form of a corrupt politician spreading lies in his good name.

“Cas!” Just as unexpectedly as he vanished days ago, the angel appeared before you now, battered, bruised, and bloody.

“Help me,” he stumbled weakly to one knee, panicked blue eyes pleading.

Tucking his arm over your shoulder, you helped him to stand, guiding him to the bathroom, leaning him against the edge of the counter. Hands trembling, you wrung a wet washcloth over the sink, wiping carefully at his face and neck and hands, towel rapidly staining crimson, droplets of red speckling the white porcelain of the basin. Rinsing the washcloth again, you swiped the blood-matted hair from his forehead, “Cas, there’s so much blood, where are you hurt?”

Pivoting, he gripped the edges of the counter, pitching forward with effort, the volume of the laughter inside of his vessel’s skull overpowering your voice.

“Cas, whose blood is this?” You stared at his haggard face in the reflection of the mirror, realizing none of his wounds could produce this much blood. Something churning maliciously behind his wearied eyes caused you to shrink away, forgotten washcloth splattering to the floor, heart seizing with fear, “Cas, please, say something. You’re frightening me.”

“I-I blacked out. I don’t know what happened,” he sobbed, vessel shaking. Collapsing into folded arms, he hid his face, unable to bear the fearful gleam in your eyes.

You stepped closer to rub his back, to comfort him, to assuage the disquiet feeling surging within yourself, “Okay, it’s okay, we’ll figure it out. Just-just tell me the last thing you remember.”

“I, they’re all dead. Innocents. Slaughtered,” he mumbled, “I only went to talk. I-” His body convulsed and went silent.

“Cas?” You squeezed his shoulder.

“Try again,” the creature that leered up at you wasn’t Castiel. The fingers that snatched at and compressed your neck, cutting off the air to your lungs, dangling your kicking feet uselessly off the ground weren’t Castiel’s. And the laughter springing from its throat as it garnered enjoyment choking the life out of you resonated of pure evil, “Or, you know, don’t.”

“Get your hands off her!” The fingers at your throat slackened.

You crumpled into a gasping heap on the cold tile floor. The last thing to register before you blacked out were the horror stricken blue eyes of your angel brimming freely with tears.

“I’m sorry Y/N. I’ve made a horrible mistake. I can’t control them. Forgive me. Please, forgive me. I-I love you…”

It was your love shrouded in fear that turned the tide for Castiel and made clear the errors in his judgement. He had determined to return the souls to purgatory the moment he saw the fear reflected in your eyes. Being alone, losing your love, it terrified him. It was in that instant of weakened resolve that the leviathans gained the upper hand. Helplessly witnessing the life ebb from your body, he wrenched control back from the ancient beasts by harnessing the raw power of his love for you to stun them into submission - a thing so purely evil is incapable of breaching such devotion. Now, clutching your unconscious body to his chest, listening to your wheezing struggle to hold onto life, he understood the profound danger. Gently laying you on your back, he rolled a towel beneath your neck. Pressing blood-stained fingers to your temple, he healed you, not with the ungodly power coursing poisonously through his vessel, but with angelic grace. Heartened by your strengthening respiration and the pink flush returning to your pale cheeks, shaky fingers brushed the shock damp hair from your brow and he placed a tender lingering kiss on your forehead.

You roused many hours later when a beam of sunlight stretched from the window to tickle your closed eyes, the familiar gravel of Cas’ voice murmuring a morning greeting in your ear. Moaning softly, you reached to the opposite side of the bed, your fingers grasping at the empty space, finding only rough sheets where the angel should be. Bolting upright, everything came flooding back. Grabbing your phone, you paced the room as it rang, “Damnit, Dean! Answer!” It went to voicemail. You tried again.

He picked up on the first ring this time, “Y/N?”

“Dean! It’s Cas, he’s in danger,” your words frantically slurred, “I don’t mean the God thing, he’s possessed or something. Whatever it is tried to kill me, but Cas stopped it. He-”

“He’s gone, Y/N. Cas is gone.”

Your stomach flipped at Dean’s words, stunned to silence as you rode a wave of nausea.

“You okay?”

“G-gone?” You didn’t understand - you heard the angel’s voice, felt his presence only moments ago.

“Last night, he showed up just in time to send those souls back to purgatory. The thing that tried to kill you - leviathans, they managed to hang on. And Cas, he couldn’t hold them back without all that extra purgatory power. They marched his vessel into a municipal water reservoir and scattered.”

“I need to see him,” you refused to believe Dean, needing to see the angel’s lifeless vessel with your own eyes as proof. It didn’t feel like Cas was gone, there was no pervading sense of emptiness in the corners of your soul where his love resided.

“There’s nothing to see Y/N, all that’s left is that stupid trench coat of his.”

Your heart soared with hope, knowing without a shadow of doubt that your angel was out there somewhere. Not gone – lost. Lost and alive. And for as long as your heart continued to beat, no one would convince you otherwise.

#Lexie's SPN Birthday Challenge #castiel x reader #castiel x you #castielxreader #castiel reader insert #cas x reader #cas x you #castiel oneshot #castiel fanfic #castiel x y/n #godstiel #my edit #cricket writes cas #flagged

[kbrown78]

My Thoughts: The Shadow Queen by C.J. Redwine

Originally I was going to save this book for next year and read the Night Circus this month, but there was something about this book that just kept calling to me. I thought it was decent when I first read it, but I was worried that my shifting feelings about YA fantasy and upon closer scrutiny I just wouldn't enjoy this book, but oh man, was I wrong. There were a few issues I had with the pacing and romance, but overall this book was really good. It does well not only as a Snow White retelling but as it's own narrative. I really liked the characters and I though the world building and magic system was also good. Lorelai fills in the role of Snow White, a young exiled princess with magical abilities, and Kol is king trying to do what is best for his kingdom after they are attacked. The two meet and work together to bring down Irina, the wicked queen determined to kill Lorelai so that she can remain ruler. I'm definitely glad I read this book because it was the highlight of this month.

Characters: Let's start out with the Snow White figure, Lorelai. She isn't a damsel in distress, but she isn't just a fighter. She's compassionate, she's a brilliant strategist, she's a powerful mardushka, she's willing to sacrifice herself for the greater good but won't go down without a fight, and she sounds a little too perfect. Like I honestly couldn't think of any flaws of her, and that realization left me feeling a little detached from her. I still really like her, however, because she's not a stereotypical YA heroine: either being brash and moody or a damsel. I do love her maturity because she has the makings for being a great ruler and so many YA heroines are really just immature brats. I like that she is a good strategist and that this is demonstrated and reinforced throughout the novel. I just wish that she had something personal she had to overcome and achieved at the end of the book, like Meira did with her self worth in the Snow Like Ashes series. Kol was more of the kind of character I was looking for. He's a gregarious prankster that never expected any position of power. That changes when his parents and brother are killed. He takes being king very seriously and is willing to take desperate measures to ensure his kingdoms safety. As the book progress we get the sense that he doesn't think much of himself as a ruler and he wants to better himself. I should think that is resolved in the end but it's left a bit ambiguous. He's a likable person, similar to Lorelai, who takes his responsibilities seriously and always tries to do what is right. The other POV character is Irina, the antagonist. Irina is definitely crazy. She is obsessed with 2 things power and betrayal. When she was young she was passed over to become queen of Ravenspire in favor of her sister. Since then she sees anyone who gets in her way as a “betrayer” and once she seized power she does whatever she wants, whenever she wants. She isn't exactly entertaining or sympathetic, but she isn't obnoxious either. Maybe because she has a back story that makes sense and fits with her personality. Maybe because we see that her abuse of power is killing her, but she refuses to stop because it goes against everything she is. Maybe because she does bad things, but doesn't seem to delight in them. As a villain I did like her because she didn't apologize for being a villain, nor does the narrative seem to, she wasn't comically over the top, and she made for a genuinely dangerous opponent to Lorelai.  

Relationships: I generally prefer that romances take the far back seat in the overall story. It's the major reason I don't love the middle books in the Memoirs of Lady Trent series. In this case I did expect the romance to be a little more central because it's based on a fairy tale. In Shadow Queen, while the romance is a more central plot of this story, I wasn't frustrated by that at all because it was so well done. When Kol and Lorelai first meet she saves him from a mob and then they part ways. Their next meetings are rather tense because death plays a factor. When Kol loses his human heart, Lorelai works to control him because she doesn't want to die but she doesn't want to kill him, and to do that she creates a mental bond with him so they can communicate. As the two spend more time together, they learn more about the other, talking about basic things but also the deeper stuff. Kol's there for Lorelai as she grieves Leo and Lorelai helps assure Kol that he would be a good king. Their relationship takes a more romantic turn when Kol starts thinking about how he wants to be a better man for Lorelai, and toward the end of the book the two share a kiss. There's still the lingering threat of Kol's dragon heart and Irina, so the two can't fully be together until Irina is killed. During the final showdown, Lorelai lets herself be stabbed by Kol so that she can finally kill Irina. Kols is broken hearted but is able to save Lorelai and when she wakes they joke about how he had said he would kiss her awake if she died. In the end, at Lorelai's coronation, she still communicates through the mental bond with Kol, and he surprises her by being there in person. There was so much I loved about this relationship, it's the kind of relationship I think you should have because both listen to each other, and are open with each other, and want to be a better person for the other. It's one of the few examples where I can forgive the quick development and here's why. First it's between 2 mature, likable characters who don't make rash decisions or act on their hormones. Second even though Kol is the huntsman, this isn't a hate to love romance. While Lorelai is upset at Kol about Leo's death, she gets over it in order to take down the woman that actually killed Leo. Third, their relationship felt very natural and took it's time to develop instead of going right to romance. So they evolved from strangers to partners to friends to something more to being an established couple. The other romantic relationship in this book is a mix of tragic and toxic and that's Irina and Viktor. It's definitely shown that they are sexually attracted to each other, but later it's also shown that there is an emotional attachment between the two of them. Irina, however is afraid of letting Viktor close because she fears his betrayal. Viktor is enamored with Irina, but that's because he overlooks everything bad that she does, almost brushing it off is if it's okay that she killed someone for no real reason. Their relationship reaches its crossroads when Irina plans on taking Kol's human heart for herself. Viktor finally disagrees with her, saying she can't cross this line and suggesting they runaway and live a quiet life together. While Irina seems tempted by this idea, her obsession with power wins out, and like everyone she claims betrayed her, kills Viktor. Maybe there was potential there for these two messed up people to live happily ever after, but both of their tragic flaws prevented that from happening, which speaks much louder about their actually character and any potential relationship. There were some cute familial bonds, both Lorelai and Kol with each of their siblings, and while we do see more of Lorelai with Leo, planning their schemes together, neither relationship is really important outside of the context of how this shapes their character, so neither sibling needs to be present for the full book (but it was sad having Leo die). Same can be said of Kol's friends. They stick with him because they want to support him because he's the kind of person you can fight both for and with, but having Kol isolated from them helps him realize what a great king he can be, but also shows the depth of their loyalty to him when they return with reinforcements. There's also Gabril and Lorelai, how he's a kind of mentor/father figure to her and having raised her after the escape from Irina, at the cost of seeing his own family. I liked that he wasn't just a one note character. He was very protective of Lorelai, like he doesn't like Kol being around because he's afraid Lorelai will be killed by him and he won't let Lorelai heal his leg for a long time because he's terrified that doing this will left Irina know where they are. He's fiercely loyal to her but he can be reasoned with. Lorelai is always very respectful to him and listens to him, except when it comes to magic. As she grows more confident in her abilities she's able to talk him down and let her take control of things through her magic, and he let's her. Like any good parent, he doesn't want Lorelai to get hurt but he admits that he has to let her take charge and has faith in her ability to succeed. It's a genuinely good relationship because it's built on mutual respect and love, and brings out the best in each person. The last relationship I want to talk about is Irina and Lorelai's. They are pitted against each other from the very start, and the make fairly good opponents since each are equally powerful and willful in their magic. When they have their final showdown, Irina hints at that she's regrets how things turned out, like she almost wanted a relationship with Lorelai. While I do think Irina did seem to want to have a relationship, it's been emphasized how she ultimately deals with any relationship, so I don't think there was too much of a wasted opportunity there. I do wish that there was more prominent friendships in this book, but like I said at the beginning of this section, I did really like the romance, which was always going to be the main relationship in this book.    

World Building: There was hardly any world building in this book, and I got the impression that Ravenspire and Eldr is supposed to be a typical medieval kingdoms currently in shambles, but that's okay for 3 reasons, 1) the story doesn't suffer from this 2) there's a pretty map and I love when fantasy books have maps 3) there was some fun magic. The mardushka magic, which Lorelai and Irina use, is a hereditary magic performed through a mix of words and will power that controls the “heart” of everything natural. Like not just people but also the land itself. It's kind of a symbiotic relationship where if the heart willingly cooperates with the mardushka than both benefit, like Lorelai using the river to protect Eldr, but if the heart resists than both suffer, like Irina and the land of Ravenspire. It's a very organic kind of magic system, utilizing both the will power of every living thing as well as some technical incantations. There's a glossary in the book that says what each of the incantations, which I always like to see. I like guides that break down the magic system. I prefer this as opposed to magic that is just kind of there and has no rhyme or reason, like in Uprooted or the Graceling trilogy. The other thing is that the people in Eldr are draconi, which means they can shift into dragons. They are able to do this because they have a dual heart. One of the hearts is the human which gives the person their emotions and memories and the other is their dragon heart, which gives them their fire and predatory instincts. While it's cool to have a whole kingdom  made of dragon people, I like what it did for the story and the tropes that this fact twisted.  

Writing: There are a couple things that I briefly mentioned that in the previous section that I'm going to expand on in this section. First is what happens when a kingdom is being slowly destroyed. As opposed to Eldr, which is being rapidly wiped out by ogres, Ravenspire is being slowly drained of its life force by a tyrant obsessed with power. As a result the land is dying and the peasants are starving. There are a few distinct moments in the story where we're shown just how bleak and desperate things are. In one scene Lorelai sees a mother killing her children to prevent them from dying of starvation, and in another Kol and 2 of his friends are nearly killed by a desperate mob that needs these obviously wealth people to buy something from them so that they have money for food and taxes. It's minor but it adds a touch of realism to the story in because things can get that bleak when times are hard, especially for the people that can't afford it. Lorelai tries to use that to her advantage, by slowly stealing food from the wealthy nobles and giving it to the poor to create a positive image for herself and gain support for her rise to power. The plot goes in a bit of a different direction, but Lorelai did have a solid plan, acting as a sort of Robin Hood figure. The other thing I talked about was how the prince/ king is also a dragon, and this twists some tropes. This book is clearly a Snow White retelling, with the wicked queen and huntsman and a maiden with red lips an black hair, but there are plenty of spins and new elements added to this story to make it it's own narrative. Probably the most iconic element of the Snow White fairy tale is the poison apple, which is featured on the cover, but these aren't actually an important feature in the book. From the beginning Lorelai knows the apples are bad because she's seen how they control people, not poison them (although I guess, mind control is a kind of poison). Irina is only seem using the apples once, giving them to hungry mob so she can use the mob to hunt down Lorelai. This fails her, and with her deteriorating health, the apples are never seen again. There's Kol being the huntsman/king/dragon, Lorelai being both Robin Hood and Snow White, true loves kiss to “awaken the princess,” and the 7 dwarves being replaced by a single and a gyrfalcon. While I think these twists where more for the sake of plot and character development than satire or analysis, they were a nice touch to the story and were well utilized. Kind of wish the apples had been a more prominent feature, though.    

Dislike: There wasn't much that I disliked in this novel, but there were a few things. The first was when Lorelai and Kol first meet, there's some miscommunication going on. Lorelai knows Kol is king who needs help with something (hence why he's in Ravenspire in the first place) and the fact that he's a king period should have been enough to prompt Lorelai to ask questions and try to strike a bargain with him to gain an advantage over Irina, but she doesn't do that. Instead she says nothing about herself and says for him to forget her existence. Which ultimately serves no purpose since her brother gets killed and Irina discovers that she's alive despite Kol keeping his promise. This just felt a bit out of character for Lorelai and the only reason that miscommunication seems to be there in the first place is to move the plot forward in a certain direction. I also think that Kol made a foolish decision in choosing to deal with Irina. I get that he's trying to do the best that he can for his people and he did have a good idea about trading food supplies for magic since Ravenspire's resources are seriously diminished, but as soon as Irina ignores all that for her own personal vendetta there should have been warning bells going off that this isn't someone you should deal with (and somehow the person at the front of the castle with apples coming out of her mouth wasn't enough of a warning). Desperate situations make us do rash, stupid things, but Kol really shouldn't have gone into the deal knowing nothing about Irina or should have at least given some more thought as to how to deal with her. Fast forward to the very end of the book, before the final show down, when Lorelai meets up with Trugg and Jyn and the rest of Kol's friends. There was some unnecessary hostility that fortunately gets resolved quickly than Lorelai explicitly states how long she has been with Kol. Three weeks. I have a lot of issues with Insta Love and I generally abhore it, but in this case I can forgive it because their romance evolved naturally and it just feels so much more mature than many, many Insta Love romances. Also they were with each other during those 3 weeks (I assume) and generally if a story needs to be wrapped up in one book, I forgive the rushed relationship as long as it's not too fast. So while there were some character decisions that were a bit annoying in hindsight, the story didn't suffer from these errors and neither did the characters in my eyes. I will admit though that the fact these mistakes where in the story in the first place is the only reason this book didn't get a full 5 stars, but it did come close with 4.5 stars.  

Final Thoughts: I admit the premise is familiar, but sometimes I just want a familiar story with a happy ending. This book delivered on that and I was happy. As time has passed I don't think this book is quite as high as I rated but it's definitely still a 4 star read. It's entertaining, it has good character's and relationships, and if you want a retelling with a more modern feel to it, than I do recommend you pick this one up.  

#my thoughts #book review #the shadow queen #ravenspire series #c.j. redwine

[solaciummeae]

What if it Makes You Sad at Me? | Part 22

MOOD MUSIC

She been having the worst time sleeping lately. The pregnancy seemed to be heightening her abilities. She could only assume it had something to do with Adam being just as gifted if not more than she was. She’d noticed a number of strange things she normally wouldn’t consider herself powerful enough for. Along with it, she’d begun to have horrific nightmares in a sort of sequence of events.

It had started out as dreams of what their future held, they seemed harmless and she almost welcomed them. Their future seemed so bright, and she’d come to find out just how many children they were to have. It didn’t disturb her the way she thought it might. The love and fierce protection she felt for each and every one of them was so great it seemed only that motherhood suited her. She’d met all of them by now and spend a good deal of time getting to know each other them through each vision she had. It made her heart ache in such a way she’d never known.

But then they’d started to get worse. It seemed that they were always on the run from something or someone. They’d angered the wrong upper level demon and he’d been out for blood. It dragged out for so long she couldn’t keep track of just how long their family had been fighting these battles. Luckily it seemed that all of their children were grown and capable by the point it had gotten that bad. Still, anxiety and fear plagued her as their mother.

The events just seemed to keep building and building until she went to sacrifice herself to their adversary in return for leaving her family alone. It was more than surreal to watch herself fall lifeless to the ground as the demon stopped her heart where it beat in her chest. She couldn’t say that she wasn’t capable of that sacrifice if it meant keeping her family alive and safe.

Usually, she woke up screaming from the dreams, seemingly giving off a psychic pulse. She’d been able to hide the truth behind the nightmares from Jude for a long time-- never letting him see what she had. But tonight had quickly become the worst by far.

She can see herself lying in the front seat on Jude’s car, in her lifeless state. She can hear him outside of the car talking furiously to someone and it doesn’t take long to figure out from the conversation just what’s transpiring.

She rushes in the dream to stop him but just as every other before it-- he can’t see her or hear her. She’s just an observer with no ability to change or stop what’s happening.

“Look-- let’s cut the shit-- either you can bring her back or you can’t-- that is what you crossroads demons are famous for, right?” The blonde demands angrily. He looks exhausted, his eyes dark and sallow. To Emma, it looks as though he’s lost all sense of sanity he might have had left before she’d died.

“I can-- but I gotta say-- I’m risking my own neck for this-- if I bring her back, the deal she made with him is void and you’ll have...guess I can give you five years.” The demons eyes glow red as she makes the offer.

“Why only five?” His voices rages.

“Because I could get killed for this blondie. It might seem like a simple trade to you, but I answer to others, Crowley can’t protect me from everyone-- not that he would in the first place. You get half because of the risk involved.” She snorts, crossing her arms underneath her chest. “Take it or leave it.”

Emma begs him in the dream, she even tries to reach into his mind. But just like any other vision, she’s powerless to stop the events from happening.

Jude grabs the demon’s vessel in front of him forcefully and kisses her roughly. He shoves her away and growls, “Do it.”

She can hear herself in the car as she inhales a deep gasp of air that causes her to cough. Jude seems to hear her at the same exact moment and leaves the demon without another word. He desperately pries open the car door and brings her into his lap as he sits beneath her. He looks on her with such relief that tears flood his eyes, a disbelieving laugh coming from within him as she stares up at him angrily.

“Emma please-- I had to...I’m sorry.” He calls quietly to her.

It’s in that moment that she again, wakes up screaming, her body covered in sweat. She can feel the release of her mind shooting off in all directions as she sits up quickly in bed. It takes only seconds for her to begin sobbing.

Jude hadn’t let her go to bed alone in over two weeks. She’d been having these nightmares that she wouldn’t tell him about. So every night, he slept beside her, waiting for the inevitable.

Tonight he hadn’t even gotten to sleep before she’d started groaning and shifting around in her sleep. He figured staying up was a better plan than trying to rest. About a minute before she wakes up, that same strong pulse goes off and he cringes, holding his hands to his head as it washes over him. It’s loud and piercing, not to mention completely disorienting. It doesn’t stop even as she shoots up beside him.

Instinctively, he moves to pull her into his arms, even as the pain continues through his mind. “Emma it’s okay-- you’re awake, just breathe.” He strains to tell her in an attempt to quiet her mind.

Her body rakes with cries, unable to even look at him. After what she’d seen, she’s so angry with him that she doesn’t want him to be near her. She shoves at him and stumbles to climb from the bed before he can stop her.

Every other night, she’d allowed him to calm her as he often did. But something was different this time, it was like being this close to him made her sick-- he could feel it emanating from her in waves. He watches her shakily stand on her feet looking at the floor as she fiercely wipes at her face.

“Emma-- what’s going on? Come on-- talk to me.” He urges, feeling helpless to stop her suffering even as he does his best to transmit feelings of safety and warm.

She inhales a couple more gasps of air, attempting to slow her breathing. However, every time she just about stops crying, her face crumples to nothing again. When he begs her to tell him what’s happening she can’t help but look at him with that same furious expression her future self had in the car. “Y-you promised!” She accuses, her voice cracking with betrayal as she looks away again.

He’s so confused but she’s already raised an iron wall in her mind that his own can’t penetrate no matter how hard he tries. He moves off the bed and over to her, but she flinches when he nears her. He falters, raising his hands to show he means her no harm. “Please talk to me baby-- I can’t read your mind right now, but I need you to let me in...” He pleads gently. His expression is riddled with concern. He’s terrified of what she’s been dreaming about but she always blocks him out when he tries to find out.

He takes another step toward her slowly, until he’s right in front of her. His hands find her face, bringing it up to look at him. “It’s okay-- I’m right here.” He attempts to calm her again, but it serves only to cause her to release only anger in his direction.

“It’s not okay! You promised you wouldn’t do it-- and you’re gonna do it anyway...“ Her voice is dead by the end. She can’t even look at him even as he frowns at her in concentration.

His eyes narrow on her as he licks his lips, trying to understand. “Emma-- I don’t know--” He begins, when it dawns on him that she’s been having visions in her sleep. It explained the excruciating psychic pulse that went off whenever they happened.

Suddenly, he knows exactly what she’s talking about. Apparently, their plans to get out of this life weren’t enough at this point. He knows now exactly what she saw tonight and it drives a shock of fear through him so potent it consumes him. He swallows as she glares at him. This wasn’t just something that either of them could brush off. He’d made a promise, and he meant it-- but it would seem in the future the grief that overtakes him is too powerful to hold out.

“I’m sorry--...” He apologizes solemnly.

“No you’re not. If you were sorry you wouldn’t do it-- you’d let me go so that we could be together again someday.“ She tosses back, her face seemingly stuck in the same furious expression.

“What do you want me to say Emma? I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry that I love you too much, I’m sorry that I love you so much I can’t stand living without you.” He finally snaps. “I meant what I promised-- I did-- but grief’s a funny thing-- sometimes you do things you normally wouldn’t when it’s too great.” He defends himself, doing nothing to mask the hurt across his features. He just needs her to understand, he’d do everything he could to not make that deal but in the end-- he’s not sure if it’ll be enough.

He also does nothing to conceal his thoughts and feelings from her, giving off the very potent love he speaks of. It’s almost suffocating as it reaches her and she finds it a struggle to remain upset with him. It wasn’t his fault. She knows that. Her eyes dart between his in the darkness as she takes his hands and lowers the defenses of her mind.

Vision after vision pushes into his mind. The first ten or so seem so beautiful-- a life for them with so many kids and so much happiness. But soon enough, they turn dark. She seems to speed through them faster at this point, right up until the part where the demon stops her heart and he goes to make the deal. The transference causes tears to flood beneath his lashes behind his closed eyes which move rapidly back and forth at the visions.

When it’s over, his eyes pop open and he feels the same disorientation he had from the pulse. His watery eyes search for her as he chokes back a sob of his own. In an instant, he becomes upset with her. No one had told him that she sacrificed herself for their family. No one had told him how it all played out.

“Why-- why would you do that? We could have done it together--” His voice breaks, the tables having quickly turned. He just wants to hold her after seeing what he had and wastes no time in pulling her tightly into his arms.

A wave of guilt moves through her. In truth, he had just as much right to be angry with her as she did with him. And yet, he just wants her close rather than pushing her away. It makes her consider a great many things as she sighs into his hold and returns the embrace.

“Maybe I love you too much, too...” She mumbles quietly in response, the strength of her own love reciprocating his as the key to a lock.

#indie rp #indie drabble #spn rp #spn drabble #supernatural rp #muse: emma #muse: judah #relationship: could this be out of line; to say youre the only one #i cant even call this a starter #drabbles: emma #drabbles: roberts #verse: supernatural #series: so this is where the story ends; or have we just begun