#we KNOW he's believed in the supernatural since age eight!

[fridayyy-13th]

i swear sometimes i think people forget that Jon's s1 skeptic act was just that—an act. it was an act!!! he believes the statements!! he's believed them since episode one! do we so soon forget that he denied the statements were real because he knew the Eye something wanted him to be scared, and he knew that was bad, so he decided to act like the statements just didn't scare him? remember, he was working with extremely limited information ("when i record the tape statements, i feel watched, like something knows i'm afraid, and i don't want it to know that"), and came up with a genuinely solid solution with what he had! not his fault that the thing watching him was a literal unknowable eldritch entity that feeds on fear, and he was just some underqualified archivist.

#sorry. saw a post and got a little angry about it #like bro! he literally tells martin in a fan-favorite conversation that it! was! an! act! #we KNOW he's believed in the supernatural since age eight! #i'm so tired of the ''lol haha jon didn't believe the OBVIOUSLY real statements but they still spooked him'' posts #i will not take this blorbo slander #leave my guy alone he tried his best. and was scared out of his mind while doing it #the magnus archives #jonathan sims #friday chats #it's like 1:30 am if this is moderately incoherent don't come at me

[velvetineblue]

CHARACTER INFO SHEET ;

NAME : taiyang theodoré tseng .

NAME MEANING : sun / god-given gift / high, elevated, steep

ALIAS : mostly just 'tai' .

ETHNICITY : taiwanese .

ONE PICTURE / ICON YOU LIKE BEST OF YOUR CHARACTER : hmmmmmm... many options asjjaj but this one is one of my fav graphics i've made !!

THREE HCS YOU NEVER TOLD ANYONE :

a weird, (?) comfort food that he will make is a pb&j sandwich but with strawberry jam or orange marmalade (or both!) and peanutbutter... and he'll add marshmallow fluff if there is some in the pantry, if he wants a sweet treat. : 3

in his vampire verse, he has shadow/darkness manipulation magic, && can shift into a black wolf : 33 he has the capability of shifting into pretty much any nocturnal predatory creature ( yes, including bats asjajj ) but it's a difficult and learned skill, and a wolf is the only one he is practiced at && is good at so far......... he's practicing how to git gud at birds and other creatures of flight because that would be hella useful but. he's not very good at it at the time and can only do it for a short burst jasjajj. these shifting abilities ONLY work at night, though!! only when the moon is out; never in the daytime .

the man who took care of little-tai while his father was in jail ( who is his dad's best friend ) was very frugal, modest in accommodation's, and believed that anything extraneous to be bought for the household, tai had to earn. mostly by doing chores or something else productive with his time. because of this, he grew up without a lot of 'luxuries' that others were accustomed to: for example, there was no internet access in his home; he had to go to the library or his school to use the internet! and he didn't have a cell phone until he was 17, and that's because he saved up money from a summer job to buy his own... and on a similar vein ( perhaps because of this ), he's not as addicted to tech as a lot of other people his age?? he uses social media but in like... low-moderate amounts. he's def not addicted to it and he doesn't use it all that often, comparative to most people in his age/generation group.

THREE THINGS YOUR CHARACTER LIKES TO DO IN THEIR FREE TIME :

jogging / hiking, etc; finding a place in nature that is pretty/cool and hanging out there, enjoying the ambience . . .

he's not extremely mechanically knowledge, but if there is any work he can do himself on his car(s), he rly enjoys when he can do it! the hands-on challenge is fun & it's satisfying to know he did it HIMSELF. he likes cars in general; likes going on drives while listening to music, likes checking out interesting/sEXy/rare models of cars ... even in verses where racing is not a thing he does/did, he enjoys car shows, clubs, shops, etc; he might go them if he's bored and they're around. he luvs his car; it his babie <; 3

pretty much anything to do with animals; he will meet up with someone there so fast!! the zoo, aquarium, dog parks, etc... if there's a chance he can see ( or better yet, inTERACT WITH ) animals, he's on his way— hE'S ZOOMIN!!!!

TWO THINGS YOUR CHARACTER REGRETS :

in his supernatural/SoL verses: he had a very close childhood-friend named Nihat that moved to LA to be in the band: tai half-convinced him to move to LA, but honestly, not really; nihat really wanted to come anyway, he was just waiting for the formal invitation. sadly, nihat ended up becoming deeply entrenched in the vices of the LA music scene and that trouble... ultimately led him to the end of his life ... tai deeply regrets ever inviting nihat to La. the guilt has haunted him ever since. there's a lot more i want to write on that topic but i would accidentally write a novel so i gotta stop there ajsajjj

he regrets not doing more for his mom when she was alive. he was only eight when she passed away, and realistically, ooc, we all know there really wasn't anything he could do for her that could have helped her with her mental health struggles; and even if there was, that wasn't his responsibility to take on; he was a child and should not have had to care for her or worry about her health-- it is the other way around ... but he's never been able to accept that. he has always carried the guilt and regret that he couldn't do more, and couldn't save her... couldn't give her a reason to live, or be enough for her to want to.

ONE PHOBIA YOUR CHARACTER HAS : most of his fears are psychological but... one physical thing that is nightmare fuel for him would be if he was locked in a claustrophobic small space alone, all on his own, for a long time, with no way to exit, and it didn't seem like someone was coming to get him...... . o _ o that would be very near the top in his list of "worst ways to die" asjjajj

#meta. #stole this off my dash a loooong time ago so feel free to steal it if you want hehe. #but today felt like a good day to do it cus #i feel like writing but my dash is rly slow for the holidays understandably !! #but if anyone wants to start something... lmK AND I'LL TOSS U A STARTER. #or you can always send a meme c: #it's been so long that i want to start with new threads rather than deep dive into my drafts-- not yettt.

[chinchiii]

Teru Minamoto is the oldest son of the Minamoto family. Being the oldest, there are a lot of expectations from the adults, them usually being the child's parents or grandparents, but in Teru's case it's his whole family. Teru lost his childhood, he started working as an exorcist when he was 8. Second or Third grade of elementary school. He wishes he had a normal childhood. Imagine just how difficult it was for an eight-year old all this. Go to school, go home study, sleep and work all night. In his free time - if we even had any- he had to train. And he still had to remain healthy and strong. He was constantly covered in bruises. He probably never had any time to spent with Kou. They had their first "serious" argument first time in 14 years. (If you have siblings you know that you have "serious" fights more often and like don't talk to each other and stuff)

And when he was twelve his mother passed away. I believe his mother's death was devastating for both Kou and Teru, even if Kou replaced her partly,by doing the household chores it obviously is not the same. He was now cheated out of his childhood but now out of his mother as well. When someone important to the child passes away is when they understand what death really means.

People got so mad when Teru said to Kou to "go back to the kitchen" while he was just trying to protect him. He didn't look down on Kou,but they both knew he was way weaker than Teru, as an exorcist. He doesn't want Kou to follow that path –not only it doesn't suit him– because he doesn't want his brother's memories from his teenage years to be all about wiping off supernaturals,like Teru's had been for the last nine years.

Teru really spoils Tiara because soon enough, she will go through what Teru went. It won't be the exact same because Teru will be on her side. Teru had nobody on his side. She is so strong,even stronger than Teru that they can't let all this power go wasted. Tiara doesn't have any memories of her mother so he tries to give her the affection that she's missing but both him and Kou know that it's not the same.

He grew up having to protect others and he rarely shows any emotions. He always wears a smile on his face,the only exception being when he is encountered with supernaturals. Then he is shown with a cold and aggressive expression.

He always had to act "big" and strong and he feels like he doesn't have the option to fail on anything. He simply cannot. He is more than perfect in school, scoring 502/500 on the last examination.

To be honest,I don't think he really does that for himself. Even though everyone admires and loves him he can't let anyone see him doing anything other than perfect. He doesn't want to look weak or vulnerable to nobody, even his brother. Even if he shows a more soft side to Tiara he doesn't let his true self show. We know very well that he loves her very much and is moved by seeing her grow up.

He loves Kou very much and he is concerned and feels weird about him becoming more and more independent. Teru had been (partly) independent for so many years and he had nobody to look after him the way he looks out for Kou except for his mother,but she passed away before he even hit puberty.

He is also very worried about Kou in chapter 98 because even now,he doesn't hang out like this at all. He doesn't go out with friends and doesn't now anything about nightlife from experience. It's only natural being worried since he doesn't really now what "normal" teenagers his age do.

Not expressing his feelings probably due to not having the choice for his future. He had to become an exorcist. He had to start working since he was eight. He couldn't really decline any of this because he was so young,he probably didn't even understand in how much danger he had been putting himself in. But if he showed that he was scared or that he didn't want to he would be a failure or get negative comments, something that would be bad for his family's reputation.

He does express his hatred for supernaturals even though the aggressiveness doesn't seem to (most of the time) match his face or the tone of his voice.

We see him multiple times being open about his views and opinions and he is not as fake a people think.

Kou said that Teru acts "weird" around supernaturals something that can be easily explained by how he was raised. Since he can remember he couldn't not hate supernaturals. He had to feel this way. It's hard to cut out bad habits but this,this isn't a habit this is a way of thinking about creatures that not everyone can see. This isn't a habit this is how he was raised to feel and act when he sees them. You can't be too sure whenever those occult creatures might become harmful and it's not like they are needed by the human kind. He knows very well though that not all supernaturals are bad.

He didn't exorcise Hanako because he didn't want Kou to be mad at him, a clearly personal reason but it's clear that if it wasn't for Kou he would have exorcised him. When Hanako caused trouble he did attempted to exorcise him and didn't really hold back,threatening to kill Yashiro himself as a form of revenge.

Teru would never kill a human. Even if Yashiro is cursed,she can't harm anyone. Like Akane she has a home,friends are responsibilities. The only difference between them is that Akane can change the present something that can cause trouble. However, Teru would not exorcise him. Teru is still a human with emotions, a brother with a family, a student with homework, he is all that. He is not as insensitive as people say that he is.

Sorry for the grammar mistakes my friend checked and helped me to word it better but some parts are still grammatically wrong.

#tbhk #jshk #toilet bound hanako kun #jibaku shonen hanako kun #teru minamoto #minamoto kou

[brendamariesmith]

Some Ways to Write What You Know

People told me, “Write what you know,” and I thought, “Well, that sounds boring.”

But I’ve since discovered ways to follow that advice. We can put our personal emotions into our characters and use them for different purposes. We can pull bits from one facet of our lives, add pieces from other aspects, stir them up, and sprinkle them throughout a story to good effect.

After I self-published my first novel, a paranormal thriller called Something Radiates, friends who read it kept saying to me, “This book is about you and your ex-husband, isn’t it?”

“My exes were bad,” I would say, “but they weren’t supernatural stalkers.”

Still, the truth is that my two ex-husbands were abusive to me in different ways. One was controlling and tried to squelch my intellect. He burned my poetry, saying I was on an ego trip. The second ex had a serious mean streak that first emerged in increasingly cutting remarks. Then, he lost it and beat my kids. He came damned close to pushing me down a steep flight of stairs. I was frozen in fear, but he did me an enormous favor and dumped me.

Once I was free of these men, I got my revenge by taking the worst aspects of each of them, smooshing them together, adding supernatural abilities, and ramping them into overdrive to create a truly creepy villain for Something Radiates. It was healing for me to make my villain even worse than my exes, especially when the villain gets his comeuppance in the end.

I also used my experience of falling in love with a good man, my longtime current husband, to write a romance for my protagonist—the best kind of revenge. And I set the novel in Baton Rouge, where I once lived, with a trip to a cave near Boulder, where I’d camped out long ago. The novel is loaded with hippie spiritual lore and belief systems that have always fascinated me.

In my next novel, If Darkness Takes Us, and its standalone sequel, If the Light Escapes, a solar pulse destroys the U.S. grid, and the characters must survive with no power, cars, phones, or running water. Many reviews for If Darkness mentioned that I must have done a lot of research to describe the details of their lives so well. But when I was much younger, I’d lived off the grid for many years by choice, in a vegan hippie community where my sons were delivered by midwives. I didn’t have to research it. I lived it. And I set both novels in an altered version of my own Austin, Texas, neighborhood.

In If Darkness, which is narrated by a grandmother named Bea who’s raising her grandkids in an apocalypse, I was able to draw on my experiences with love and divorce as well as my twenty-eight years of raising five sons, plus several more years of being a grandmother. I also gave Bea some health issues I’m familiar with. While she is similar to me in certain ways, she’s her own woman with plenty of differences, too.

For If the Light, which is narrated by Bea’s eighteen-year-old grandson Keno, I believe his heroic nature and casual-cussing voice came straight from those sons of mine, tempered by the college students I worked with for fifteen years. Keno was waiting inside me to be let loose. It was astonishing how fast his words spewed out of me. And as I delved deeper into his character, he revealed even richer veins of heroism, intellect, and moral conviction. I have watched many young men come of age in my life, but seeing Keno do it in an apocalypse made my heart bleed.

I have a novel in development that will call on my experience living in the woods of the Ozark Mountains, on my attraction to Eastern religions, and on the time that I spent living communally. For all my fiction, I pull character emotions from the various ways I have felt them myself or have observed them in others.

The best advice I can give to any writer is to dive into life and live it to its fullest. Then you will have no shortage of tales to tell and experiences to draw from, whether your characters dwell in alternative worlds or come straight out of history. And your stories will never be boring.

#writing #fiction #writewhatyouknow #apocalypse #scifi #novels

[thecarnivorousmuffinmeta]

What would happen if you were sent back and ended up in the orphanage with Tom Riddle—and say you also had magic?

Oh boy.

Well, there's a lot to question here. Judging by the... spirit of this ask, I presume I'm... pretty much reincarnated. I'm in the orphanage, I'm much younger than I am now and a child, I'm pre-Hogwarts age, and I retain my current knowledge.

For the purpose of this ask I suppose I also retain my current mental faculties. Despite being in the body of an eight-year-old, I'm not The Carnivorous Muffin at eight.

Welp, there's a lot to consider here.

First, I probably don't realize I'm in Harry Potter for quite some time and instead assume I've been reincarnated to some parallel universe. It's the 1930's, I'm in England in the depression, WWI has occurred and the vast majority of major historical events I know about seem to have happened in the right order, and this Earth is eerily similar to the Earth I left behind.

Strange that I appear to remember everything of my past life with my adult mental abilities, but alright universe, I guess that's how we're going to play this.

What I do know is that I'm dirt poor, presumably still a woman which does not bode well for my career prospects, and if I want any prospects in life period I'm going to have to fight tooth and nail for it. It'd be great if I got adopted to help with this, and might be nice to have people in my life who love me, but there's a lot of orphans in the world and a lot of orphans who are much less weird than I am.

The orphanage is the orphanage and not great, Mrs. Cole is overworked, the orphanage is chronically understaffed, and the kids are running wild beating the shit out of each other.

Being a girl, I probably don't have to worry about getting the shit kicked out of me quite as much, but I still probably try to keep my head down and don't aggravate the particularly beefy looking orphans.

Yes, there's some very angry gremlin named Tom Riddle around who will shove you down the stairs in retribution, but that's just a weird coincidence. And then supernatural shit starts happening. Billy's rabbit hangs itself, people get injuries when Tom is nowhere near them, and I start wondering if this is really the Tom Riddle.

I'm in Wool's Orphanage, my matron is Mrs. Cole, Tom Riddle is running around lighting things on fire. It's possible, though it could all be a strange coincidence.

Now, how things go from here depends on how controlled my own magic is. Since accidental magic typically does manifest at least once or twice, it probably does manifest for me for.. something. If Tom Riddle's there to witness it then...

Well, I imagine he's very offended. Here he was, special, different, better than everyone else, and then some girl in the orphanage (who dares to get very good grades on her assignments in school) has it too.

And I just stand there, smiling, going "Tee hee".

He probably confronts me to prove that he's better at it than I am, and he probably is unless the universe hates both him and me, but having someone else with the Shining around probably prompts him to take me as his protégé (in part so he can show off and in part because he's genuinely excited to be able to share this super cool talent).

I am now apprentice to eight-year-old Tom Riddle. Whoop de doo.

Well, I don't remember this part of Harry Potter, so now I'm probably confused as to where I am again. Regardless, I try to advise Tom on how to tone it down and not, say, traumatize Amy and Dennis for life and antagonize all the other orphans forever. He probably doesn't take me seriously. What do I know, I can't even light that patch of grass on fire?

Hanging around Tom Riddle gets me a reputation to, given the difference in genders, probably a fairly nasty one at that. When Dumbledore arrives he's undoubtedly told hot gossip about how eleven-year-old Tom and I have had sex in a ritual to summon Satan. Dumbledore takes this seriously.

Dumbledore probably meets us both at the same time and it's a disaster. I tried my best to prep Tom without revealing I'm a prophet, Tom first doesn't believe there might not be others, then doesn't believe they would be antagonist/anything but amazed by how awesome he is.

Well, Dumbledore lights his wardrobe on fire while I sit there. Dying inside. Dumbledore probably also does something to me too, to teach me some kind of lesson about something.

I imagine he temporarily disfigures me/makes me appear very ugly, then sticks a mirror to the wall, that way I realize that looks aren’t everything/being a whore is wrong. Tom, still traumatized over the wardrobe, is no help and my magic’s probably not controlled enough to do a thing about it.

I spend a day looking like a pig, Tom and I are given just enough money to buy new wands and second hand/barely functioning everything else and given the world’s worst directions to Diagon Alley. Thanks, Albus.

Well, months pass, we get our wands, Tom gets excited for Hogwarts and I... start seriously considering the future. WWII is coming, the Blitz is coming, Tom and I live in east London and must be able to evacuate during the bombing of London (which went on well past the Blitz to the end of the war). I also start considering my future in the wizarding world. Do I now actually have career prospects?

Probably not because I’m muggle born and a woman. My best bet is doing very well in useful subjects and finding employment with the goblins, I can’t imagine they have the same hang ups as the wizarding world.

Tom wants to go to Slytherin, of course, I tell him this is a bad idea. “Gee Tom,” I say, “Not sure how I know this but I have this feeling that Slytherin is filled with people who loathe our very existence and will shank us. Why don’t we pick Ravenclaw or Gryffindor instead?”

No one shanks Tom Riddle! Tom says. Tom is still eleven and while he admits that sometimes I may, in retrospect, have been right about certain things that doesn’t mean he wants to go to the house known for hard work. That’s code word for everyone there being a moron and having no other redeeming features than tenacity. As for the other two, Ravenclaws sound like smug, elitist, nerds and Gryffindors like dumb jocks.

Better to be known for ambition, cunning, and actually being competent.

Well, there’s no talking him out of this one, and goddamn it we’re all each other has.

I’m the closest thing Tom Riddle has ever had to a friend in all these years and in the orphanage the only one who could hold a decent conversation with him. And while it’s not my moral obligation to keep Tom from becoming a domestic terrorist, and there’s no guarantee I even can, dumping him for one of the other houses and drifting apart won’t help.

Not to mention that, after all these years, I’m undoubtedly lonely, I’m in this foreign land, and he’s now the closest thing to a friend I have.

Looks like I’m going to Slytherin, YOOOOOLLLLLLLLOOOOOOOOO! I shout as a battle cry as tears run down my face. I may have to convince the hat to put me in Slytherin, but like all human beings I am a mixture of many qualities. I’m not cunning in the least, mind games exhaust me unutterably, but I’m full of ambition. 

This confirms every bad opinion Dumbledore had regarding me and Tom.

For the next several months, Tom probably beats the shit out of dormmates who steal his things/harass him. He beats up mine too because feminism (TM) means that he should treat all people equally when guilty of the same crime. I... am not sure I can win that fight so I just resign myself to having to adopt some of Tom’s tactics to make sure I’m not shoved in lockers, have tampons thrown at me, or pig’s blood dumped on me at the prom.

Once again, everyone thinks Tom Riddle and I are dating. I don’t even know if they’re wrong at this point.

Well, being in class with eleven year olds who seem to have had little to no prior education, Tom and I are undoubtedly blazing through class. I imagine I’m bored out of my mind (the Hogwarts curriculum sounds unbelievably boring) and Tom is... well, probably devouring the library but probably also bored. I decide to try and see if I can find some real history texts on this world (there are probably none, the wizarding world seems to only have two historians and both... have a different approach to history than current modern thought as I know it) and discover what magic even is. That shit is fascinating: wingardium leviosa is not.

Dumbledore likely gives neither me nor Tom points in class, I think the house cup is stupid, so I really don’t care. I have no interest in playing quidditch, neither does Tom, so that doesn’t happen.

The second world war starts up, Tom, me, and the muggle borns are the only ones who give a flying fuck. I work harder on figuring out how to get lodging during the Blitz/the bombing of London. Unfortunately, Mrs. Cole hates me too for being the Bride of Satan, so that’s a no go. Third year, 1939, I probably write her in earnest anyway telling her to PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, send Tom and I instructions for the summer/where the orphans are staying/how they’ve been dispersed to the countryside. As a back up plan, I try desperately to shmooze shopkeepers in Hogsmeade during every Hogsmeade weekend to get myself and Tom part time jobs and lodging over the summer. As a back up back up plan, I spend my time badgering Tom to become very good at survivalist wandless magic and if the Lord has pity on me gain some ability in it myself.

Hopefully, either Mrs. Cole or one of the Hogsmeade shop owners take pity on us. If not, then Tom and I are going extreme camping. Given Mrs. Cole (and the brain damage brought on by Dumbledore erasing memories left and right) and the likelihood of Hogsmeade shop owners just not getting it, Tom and I probably go extreme camping.

(Tom, meanwhile, asks Dippet and Dumbledore if we can stay in Hogwarts over the summer. He’s told no exceptions. London’s being bombed, you say? No exceptions. Toodles. Tom is never the same.)

Me, Tom Riddle, a tent we made ourselves, several rabbits we had to catch and skin ourselves, and the pitiful fire that we can keep going through pure will alone because if we try to use real people spells then we’ll get arrested. It has the benefit of making Tom feel very manly and impressive, catching his own food, but both of us are well aware that this sucks.

But hey, we aren’t dead.

Well, I’m sure Tom doesn’t appreciate that and this is where I imagine he seriously starts talking about violent revolution. I imagine much of my time is spent discussing the merits of not violently overthrowing our ant overlords. I imagine a thirteen-year-old Tom isn’t impressed by my pacifism, but he’s not married to Voldemort yet (probably).

Then I imagine the horcrux thing comes up and... Well, I will argue hard against it. Humans die, it is a truth of the universe, and simply something we have to accept. Horcruxes are not a measure against that, they can be destroyed, given infinite time they will be, and the sacrifice they require is too high: human life as well as the very essence of who you are.

What is a soul? I’m not sure, we never really learn in HP canon, but whatever it is, it is in some way the essence of yourself. If you take half of it and throw it somewhere else, you will cease to be you, someone or something else is walking around in your body while the other half of you exists in endless agony.

If you must chase immortality, create a philosopher’s stone (as I darkly wonder why it was that couldn’t be replicated and what Flamel had to do to make it in the first place). On second thought, maybe we should search for the Holy Grail.

Whether I can talk Tom out of this or not is... unclear. I’m going to say that I can, in part because I imagine he’ll want to show the chamber off to me, tell me when he realizes he’s Heir of Slytherin, and in doing so I can prevent the basilisk incident from occurring. Without that, there’s no dead Myrtle, which means no first victim. That summer, when he goes to the Gaunts, I’ll go with him and convince him that it’s not worth it. He can just turn around and leave these people alone, I hopefully can talk him down. Which means no second victim.

I start writing Flamel to see if Tom or I can get an apprenticeship (Dumbledore probably beats us to the chase and poisons him against us, but it’s worth a shot).

Then, should all go well, I can convince Tom to find employment with the goblins rather than shady antique dealers on the bad side of town. Hopefully, I can convince him to never become Voldemort, and instead we travel the world together looking for the origins of magic or something.

Dumbledore goes around taking people’s memories of us in preparation for when Tom becomes a dark lord and I his lady of the night darkness.

TL;DR Apparently my life would become an SI/Tom Riddle fic. So, thanks anon.

#harry potter #harry potter meta #harry potter headcanon #tom riddle #albus dumbledore #anti albus dumbledore #meta #headcanon #opinion

[theageofsims]

The Age of Sims 2.4 - Part 42 - “Desert Night”

"What a night." He commented when he saw the fullness of the moon.

"Hope there's no werewolves out tonight."

"There's no such thing as werewolves." He was direct right before finding a seat. She took a seat next to him and looked towards the sky as he was. "That's just folklore."

"Ah... I forgot -- you aren't a fan of the supernatural." She thought back to Nina's honeymoon trip to the Brooks Manor. "Do you like science fiction?"

"It's not the same thing." He glanced at her. "I mean -- it sounds like it would be the same thing, but it isn't... and sometimes I like it if it's done well."

Silence fell between them before he decided to ask her what she thought.

"How about you? Why do you like the supernatural?"

"I don't really, I just always believed that there was more to life than what could be explained." She shrugged, continuing to look at the moon. "I was raised in the church and as soon as I could decide for myself, I decided never to go back... but I never stopped believing in some things and I continued to understand where people were coming from when they spoke of spirituality."

He thought back to this childhood at that very moment.

"My mother made us go to church when we were younger, but I never really took too much of it seriously. I think she made us go more for my older brother..." He sighed around a chuckle. "That guy... he was hell."

She never heard him mention his family outside of his standing friendship with his ex-wife and his nephews. "I didn't know you had a brother." He nodded. "Does he live nearby?"

"Nah. We agreed when we were much younger that we would never live close to one another just so we could keep our relationship in good graces."

She nodded. "Do you see him from time to time?"

"I haven't seen him in about seven or eight years... just haven't found the time."

"Is he a scientist, too?"

"Are you kidding me? He got kicked out of school so many times it was a miracle that he was able to graduate. I can still remember my mother's expression when he accepted his diploma. What should have been proudness had been relief. I think she slept more sound since that day forward."

Her lips held a small smile as he continued for a few minutes more before he transitioned into talking about the stars above, the full moon, and everything that the solar system had to offer -- and he lost her from the get go, but decided she liked listening to his voice and did her best to remember what she could.

After some more time he asked her a question to break his talking streak, but she didn't answer. He asked again and this time she realized he was in fact asking her a question.

“What am I supposed to be looking at exactly?”

“Where’d I lose you?”

“…from the beginning…”

"Gee -- am I really that boring?" His tone sarcastic.

"No!" She insisted around a laugh. "I am serious, I just... it's a lot to take in. I don't know anything about the solar system. Could you repeat your question?"

"I did -- twice." He grumbled, shaking his head. "I really should watch what I say... science stuff isn't exactly romantic."

"I didn't know you were trying to be romantic."

"See what I mean?"

He rolled his eyes all while kicking himself for sinking so far into a science monologue like he was at one of the many seminars he had been through throughout his life -- and not realizing that there were better things to say and to do.

"Are you cold?" He asked, knowing the desert always had a chance of growing much cooler at night, especially in the winter time -- and trying to give himself some room to change gears.

She leaned in closer so their shoulders were touching, not really cold but starting to understand what he meant when he asked her certain questions. He wasn't exactly easy to read and his way of doing things were so incredibly practical that it hardly left room to imagine he meant anything else... even when he did.

He leaned to say into her ear to thank her, grateful that she noticed he was trying to bring things around after running his mouth much longer than he should have.

After pulling away she found him staring back at her.

"I'm a little warmer now."

"You could stand to get a little warmer, it's okay." He muttered before pulling her close and muffling her laughs.

#sims 4 #sims 4 story #the age of sims #the age of sims 2.4 part 42

[five-rivers]

Pep Talks 12

I think this might be the longest chapter of Pep Talks so far...

(AO3)

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When Clockwork first took Danny on as an apprentice, he’d laid out some ground rules for when he unexpectedly found himself in an unknown timeline. As Apprentice of Time, Danny was more likely to attract anomalies like natural portals and the like, and when that was combined with his innate bad luck regarding portals, well… winding up in weird places wasn’t quite a weekly occurrence, but saying it was wouldn’t have been a huge exaggeration.

That’s all to say, Danny appreciated the rules. He didn’t want to wind up never having been born again, or, worse, making it so that one of his friends had never been born. Or causing an apocalypse. Or wrecking the future. Or—

There were just a lot of problems that he could, and had, caused.

If Clockwork were able to pick Danny up right away every time, most of the rules probably would have been unnecessary. But he wasn’t. Mostly because of physics-shaped problems involving paradoxes and how too many time portals in the same general area could screw things up, but also because of Observant- and politics-shaped problems. And, Clockwork had admitted to Danny, sometime Clockwork left him somewhere because he was supposed to be there.

The first rule was to lay low. Avoid people when possible, except to acquire basic necessities. Avoid major events, crowds, protests, and cameras. Avoid important-looking buildings.

Do not offer help unless asked first, or unless the person is a ghost. There was, evidently, a loophole that made it okay for Danny to interact with ghosts even in places where it wasn’t okay for him to do the same to humans. Clockwork had said ghosts fell under Danny’s ‘jurisdiction,’ a term that seemed just a bit too weighty with meaning for Danny. As for being allowed to help when asked… Well, Clockwork knew that Danny was incapable of not helping. Although he did ask that Danny be subtle and indirect about it.

He was also not supposed to fight anyone unless he himself was directly attacked, for similar reasons.

The fourth rule was to stay within the accepted rules of the world he found himself in, where possible. In other words, if people generally didn’t believe in ghosts or the supernatural, don’t challenge that belief by using his powers in public, but if superpowers were common, it was okay to use them.

The fifth was that, if he found himself in the past, leave civilized areas. With the threat of unpersoning himself hanging over his head, Danny took that one very seriously.

The sixth, the one that made Danny feel like a little kid despite his real age, was, if the previous rule didn’t apply, try to stay in the same general area he first found himself in.

There were others, of course, and special ones for special circumstances. For example, if he was captured by law enforcement, or injured, or actively in danger, or if he didn’t know what time period he was in. Different sets of rules prevailed if he was actually on a mission.

Clockwork had also told him that the rules no loner applied if it took him more than two weeks to find Danny. That, if he’d been waiting for that long, something had gone wrong, or Clockwork was unable to find him or pull him out.

It had been just under half that time, and Danny was starting to get worried. More worried.

He pulled his legs up, closer to himself. He didn’t need to conserve warmth, being what he was, but the action was comforting and the abandoned warehouse he was in was weird and creepy.

This whole timeline was weird and creepy. Also, semi-apocalyptic. They were going through some serious societal upheaval. Danny wasn’t entirely sure why, having only been here for six days, but he was pretty sure it had to do with the nascent ghosts partially overshadowing people and giving them power.

At least, that’s what it felt like. Danny wasn’t sure. The next nearest thing to this he’d ever encountered was a warlock, and that had been just one person. Ghosts were under his jurisdiction, but, like the warlock, the people with powers here didn’t quite feel like ghosts, and he wasn’t sure how trustworthy news sources saying that metahumans were all soulless degenerates were…

Hopefully, he wouldn’t have to find out. Hopefully, Clockwork would pick him up before another week went by.

He didn’t think the government here could actually catch him, but some of the things they apparently did to metahumans made his core ache. It was a very X-Men-like situation. Except, well, set in Japan.

Why Japan?

But! Eight more days. Tops. Clockwork would get him.

Before he’d finished the thought, something blew the door of the warehouse in and a ropelike appendage hurtled towards Danny’s corner.

He reacted. Rules were, if someone attacked him, he could respond in kind, and if superpowers were common knowledge, he could use his.

There were at least a dozen of them, all of them displaying an eclectic array of superpowers, some reminiscent of Danny’s ghostly enemies, others entirely novel to him. A fair few also had guns. One man even used multiple powers. Needless to say, the battle was incredibly one sided.

In Danny’s favor.

Hey, he’d been doing this for years, and he was very comfortable with his abilities. Most of these guys weren’t. Most. The multiple-power guy had been challenging.

Danny examined his captives. He should probably just knock them out, then go find a new hideout somewhere else, but he wanted to know why he was attacked, first.

“So,” he said, deciding that the curly-haired man with multiple powers was probably the leader, given the way the battle had been structured, “why did you and your goons attack me?”

“I heard you were like me,” growled the man, attempting to escape Danny’s telekinetic hold. “I’m looking for a power that can help my brother.”

Danny twitched slightly at the word help. “What do you mean, like you?”

“You can take powers, too,” said the man, staring up at Danny with desperate, hungry, red eyes.

Danny blinked, frowned. “You thought I could help you, or your brother, so you attacked me?” His frown became deeper. “Or did you attack me to, what, steal my powers?”

The man squirmed.

It was. That was such a ridiculous villain cliché, although the brother thing was a twist. People could get desperate about their families and do terrible things.

Including Danny. As had been proven many, many times.

His heart and stance both softened. This counted as a request for help, right? And the guy was sort of ghostly. On the other hand… Transplanting whatever it was giving these people powers willy-nilly couldn’t be healthy, especially if it was related to ghosts.

(Multiple ghosts in one body… It reminded him of his dark future self, which was never good.)

“Okay,” he said, dragging a hand down his face. “Alright. What exactly does your brother need help with?”

The man clearly hadn’t expected Danny to ask this question. “He’s sick,” he said. His eyes gleamed at the edge of tears. “His body is tearing itself apart, DNA molecule by DNA molecule. If I could just find the right ability, I could save him,” the man’s voice broke, “I knowit.”

Molecule by molecule, huh?

Actually… that was something Danny could help with. Crud. People had powers here, right? He was being asked for help, wasn’t he? He was staying within the rules. Especially seeing as these guys were like warlocks. He was only doing warlock stuff.

“If I help you with this—if,” he stressed when the man perked up. “If I help you with this, I need two things from you. Well, three, really. Actually, no, four.”

“Name them,” declared the man.

“Yeah, I was about to,” said Danny. “Anyway, first, you need to ask your brother if he wants this. If he doesn’t, you have to come back here and return it. Asap. As in, tomorrow.” He was pretty sure he could get Clockwork to give him a day, even if he came to pick Danny up right now.

“Those are your first two conditions, then?”

Danny nodded. “Yeah. Third one is, you have to stop taking powers from people who don’t give you permission. The end of that road isn’t pretty.” At least, he was pretty sure it wasn’t. All those little maybe-ghosts, slammed together… Even if it didn’t have any immediate effect on this guy’s personality, the resulting ghost could wind up possessing him. If the ghost vaguely wanted to go with him, that might change things. Maybe. At least, it’d slow things down.

If this worked the way he thought it did.

The man scowled. “And you know this, how?”

Danny rolled his eyes. “Look, you’rethe one who said I was like you, not me. Too much of these powers can mess you up.”

“If the number is the problem, it shouldn’t matter how I take them.”

“Do you ever get bad dreams?”

The man stilled completely. “What do you know about that?”

Danny shrugged. “Enough,” he said. “Do you want to be overwhelmed by your powers? Do you want to explode? It could happen.” Actually, Danny had no idea if it could happen or not. But it sounded good. “More importantly, do you want to help your brother or not?”

“Of course I do!”

“Great!” said Danny, clapping his hands together. “Let’s finish this up somewhere privately, okay?” He grabbed the man’s shoulder and phased them through the floor into the basement, which he lit with a ball of ectoplasm. “Okay,” he said. “Fourth thing.”

The man was staring at the ectoplasm with undisguised curiosity. “What is it? Money? A new identity? Passage out of the country?”

“Uh, no,” said Danny. What would he do with any of that, after all? “I need to know the full story behind you and your brother.”

“What? Why? Don’t you know enough?”

“So that I can be sure that I can help, first off. Also, the way I’d be doing it involved me giving you something rather personal, so…” He trailed off with a gesture that indicated he expected the man to talk.

He sighed. “My name is Shigaraki Hisashi. My brother’s name is Kazuki, and he’s been sick since we were children…”

Danny let him give a summary of his life up until this point. He had the vague feeling that he wasn’t being told everything of importance, but, then, not everything about a person’s life could be condensed into an hour or so of storytelling.

Apparently Hisashi had basically raised Kazuki, and once Hisashi’s meta power had come in as a young adult, they’d been completely abandoned by their parents. Hisashi had put together a group of freedom fighters (Danny skeptically recalled the guns, but also forced himself to remember the hints that there might be something like concentration camps for power users) to defend himself, his brother, and others with power. But Kazuki’s illness made him incredibly vulnerable, and as he was Hisashi’s one major weakness…

The feeling that he was living through an ‘X-Men Japan’ comic intensified. He felt so sorry for this guy. Danny knew what this kind of life was like.

“Alright,” he said, softly, finally, “I can help. And, this probably doesn’t mean anything coming from me, but that better world you were talking about? Where people with powers and people without can coexist? I think you’ll be able to make it happen. Just don’t let anyone stop you.”

“I don’t intend to.”

Danny nodded. “I can give you something to help your brother. A power,” he clarified. “But I need you to know, it could change him.”

“Change him?”

“His personality.”

“You were saying something about that before. Forgive me if I don’t agree with you. These powers are tools.”

“Okay, sure, but even just having more options can influence how a person behaves. Just warn him before you give it to him, okay?”

“Of course. I’m a man of my word, after all.”

“Right,” said Danny. “Give me your hand.”

“A handshake?” asked Hisashi.

“Not exactly.”

Danny let a minuscule, almost microscopic, piece of his core break free from the whole. It hurt like a knife to the chest, and some of his physical and mental abilities would be impaired for a while, but he had done it before, and it would heal before long. A fragment this size would give a power on par with those he’d seen so far in this world. It would also grow, of course, but it was unlikely for any human to live long enough for that to become a problem.

He let it pass into Hisashi, and the man shivered.

“That should strengthen his body without being too much of a burden on him,” said Danny.

“What kind of power is it?” asked Hisashi, reclaiming his hand and flexing his fingers.

“Uh,” said Danny, casting about for something vague that would fit. “A gradual stockpile of power. That enhances the user’s body.” That should be close enough. “Remember, ask first.”

“I will, I will,” assured Hisashi one more time. “And you can be sure I’ll be returning regardless, to thank you.”

“Uh huh.”

It took a while for Hisashi and his men to clear out. Longer still for Danny to find a new place to sleep. But he did.

He woke to a time medallion around his neck and Clockwork’s exasperated expression. “Daniel,” he said, “what did you do?”

.

Toshinori and Izuku stared at Danny with open mouths.

“You’re the original stockpile user?” yelled Izuku, pointing.

Danny smiled sheepishly. “Surprise?”

#danny phantom #bnha #dp/bnha #dp/bnha crossover #pep talks

[thelordofdarkreunion]

Magnificent Scoundrels- Of Humans and Demons

It had been quite a while since I’ve came out with a story.  In this, we have the explanation of what is happening in two of the galaxies concerning the shenanigans bringing them all together, as well as the more supernatural side of all of them.  As usual, I do not own anything except Thomas Drake and his universe.  Enjoy the story.   

“Speak softly and carry a big stick.”  -Theodore Roosevelt

Empyrean Iris Galaxy

Rundi Homeworld, Seat of the Galactic Assembly

“Nervous?” 

“Actually, no.  Not really.”

“Figures.  First human to make contact with extraterrestrial life, now the first person to meet the newcomers from these new galaxies.  Nothing fazes you,”  Admiral Kelly sighed.  Admiral Vir, dressed in an immaculately pressed grey uniform, grinned.  

“They said space was the final frontier.  As it turns out, we’ve got eight new galaxies out there.  Life just got a lot more complicated.  But, honestly, I wouldn’t have it any other way.  More fun!  More exploring!” said Vir.

“It takes all kinds, I suppose.  But you have to deal with briefing the Assembly,” replied Kelly.  “And deal with their possible reactions to the fact that they might not be the top dogs anymore,” she added as an afterthought.

“True,” sighed Vir.  “The worst part of the job, by far.”  A younger human officer stepped into the small, well lit room outside the main council chambers and turned to the Admirals.

“Admiral Vir, sir.  The Assembly is ready.”  He clutched his hands together, nervous to be in the presence of a living legend.  

“Thank you,” replied Vir politely.  He strode forward, only to pause briefly and look back at Kelly with a grin.  “Oh, by the way, Star Wars is real.”

“Wait...what?”  

He walked into the council chambers, radiating an aura of careful calmness.  He looked to the seats where the various delegates from all the different species in the galaxy sat, looking slightly wistfully at the human section, wishing he could be there instead of standing alone at the head of the council.  But, like he had said earlier, it went with the job, and he was the only person to make contact with the denizens of the other galaxies.  He reached the speaker’s podium, and, after the usual useless bureaucratic formalities were made, began.  

“Esteemed members of the Galactic Assembly, I am sure you have noticed that we are no longer the only populated galaxy within this universe.  Approximately a month ago, an extreme anomaly caused nine different galaxies, including our own, from nine separate universes to co-exist in one singular universe.  I come before you today, having met with people from each of the galaxies to brief you on the various governments from these other galaxies, what they are like, and what you should expect.”  He paused for a moment.  Perhaps he had used the word ‘galaxy’ too much in that speech?  No.  He had to be extremely specific, even at the risk of sounding redundant.  “It should be noted that, interestingly enough, humans exist in all of these realities.”  That drew a round of nervous murmerings.  Humans were one of the newest additions to the Assembly, and were by far one of the more powerful and dangerous member races.  Come to think of it, I might be lucky if they don’t start a riot over this, he mused.

“It should also be noted that, coincidentally, several of these new realities share similarities with old human stories.  Should you wish to know more, the appropriate media has been forwarded to you.”

“Now, on to the main briefing.”  Several delegates leaned forward in their seats expectantly.  Notepads, recording devices, or computers were taken from their holding places.  Adam cleared his throat.  “This is what we have deemed Galaxy One…”

And so the briefing went on.  He told them of the people he’d met, gave them the anatomical reports on new species of aliens.  And, most importantly, he told them of their counterparts.  Told them of both the good and the worrying.  

The Galactic Empire: a fracturing, militaristic pro-human superpower that used to rule Galaxy 1.

The New Republic: a pro-democratic group that opposed and overthrew the Empire from Galaxy 1.

The United Federation of Planets: a peaceful yet technologically powerful group where all species were equal in Galaxy 3.  

The Interstellar Manufacturing Corporation: a massive, privately funded mega-corporation that effectively ruled Earth and humanity in Galaxy 7.

The Covenant: a theocratic coalition of aliens dedicated to activating a series of devastating WMD’s in the belief that it would cause their ascension in Galaxy 4.

The Imperium of Man: a theocratic, xenophobic, militaristic pro-human superpower fighting an endless war against all comers in Galaxy 6.  

The list went on, and on, and on.  As each different government was mentioned, a map of their territories, capabilities, species, and symbol flashed on a centrally located holographic projector.  

“Now, the next part is this.  We have received word from the Citadel Council, the reigning government in what we have dubbed Galaxy 5, asking us to come to their capital for peaceful negotiations.  They seem to be extremely similar to our own government, in the sense that they are a galaxy-spanning federation including multiple species.  While I am no diplomat; that would be your area of expertise, the information we have gathered has led us to believe that this government in particular, and two others are the most similar to us and would be the best to ally with.”  The room filled with hushed murmurings.  The Drev delegate spoke up.

“And what is to stop all you humans from ending up like this?  Or this?”  He tapped a button, and the six-spoked circle of the Galactic Empire and the double-headed golden eagle of the Imperium of Man flashed to life on the console.  “As there are humans in all of these galaxies, you could band together and wipe the rest of us out.  What’s to stop you?”  Vir paused for a moment.  

“Because, being human is all about individuality.  We have no collective.  Our societies change all the time throughout history.  It is often not a story of unity.  In the end, a human is whatever it wants to be.  The humans of this new reality are probably just as different to each other as all the other species are.  And, because we are an individualistic species, the chances of us uniting under one banner to conquer not only one but nine different galaxies is not going to happen.”  He looked out at all the different delegates, all the different aliens he had come to appreciate over so long.  “One other thing.  Most humans have a great sense of right and wrong.  Something that many of you have come to appreciate over the time we’ve been in the Assembly, I’m sure.  We know that to take your land, to kill your people, is wrong.  And, as I said before, humans are different.  There are evil and bad humans in this reality; there always have been good ones as well.  The same still applies.  While some of these humans will want to take from you everything, humans like me will always be there to fight by your side against tyranny.”  The room broke into applause.  Sometimes good speeches weren't about grandiose words.  Sometimes they were simply there to get a point across.  And Admiral Adam Vir was a master at that type of speaking.  

He sighed to himself.  No bad.  There wouldn’t be any riots.  Probably.  Hopefully.  He went on with his briefing, pausing slightly to wonder if similar things were happening in the other galaxies...

“I want one simple thing: money.  I will tell you what I want; everyone knows what I want.  But the people you call saviors, the ones who you think will deliver you and raise you up, they want something else.  They want complete and utter control over every aspect of your life.  And when you naive fools put them into power, in a short time you will miss my kind.  But I will be dead, and you will be damned, because you never thought through the consequences of your actions.”  -Martin Crossgrow

Aboard the Apocalypse 

Thomas Drake sat in his quarters.  The room was an odd combination of styles, with austere and sleek metal plating contrasting with the rustic stonework of a large electric fireplace and the handsome woodwork of the furniture.  He sat before a large video screen, barely the width of a piece of paper.  His black hair was immaculate, as always, and his deep blue eyes stared from underneath a brow furrowed with concentration.  His fingers flew across a holographic keyboard, inputting the correct security procedures.  A mesh of invisible, interlocking and ever-changing computer algorithms flashed across the screen.  Good.  Even if someone were to try and break into his ship’s computers, they would not find records of what he was doing.  They could not.  He pressed a few more keys, then waited.  

Waited for one person.  His...sponsor.  For lack of a better word.  The head of the most powerful corporation in his galaxy.  The head of the Guild of Merchants, the corporate oligarchy that ruled the space in between the Galactic Federation and the Empire of Prosium.  Ultra-capitalists to a somewhat disturbing extent, it was they who controlled most of the galaxy’s comperce, built most of the products, and of course, paid the most.  

A series of chimes, repeating the same notes, sounded.  They sounded faster, quicker, humming together, until one long, high, note sang out.  The computer screen flashed from black with lines of green coding to reveal a face.  

It was that of a man, skin pale from never seeing the warm kiss of a sun, pale from never leaving building complexes.  It was old, with receding white hair and skin starting to sag, but the face and the eyes did not betray this age.  They burned with energy, arrogance and contempt.  Not the misplaced arrogance and perceived invincibility of youth, or the kind energy of an honest worker.  No.  These eyes shone with an arrogance of age and assurity, the arrogance of a man who knew with absolute certainty he was better and more powerful than anyone else.  These eyes now turned to Thomas Drake, and took on a new expression.  That of a superior looking on at a trusted subordinate.  

“Captain Drake.  How are you?” spoke the calm voice of Martin Crossgrow.  

“I’m doing well, Mr. Crossgrow,” replied Drake.  

“Wonderful.  Now, what do you have for me?”  

“Information.  As per usual.  Stocks, governments, companies...entities.  In some cases.”  Crossgrow gave an appreciative nod.  

“Excellent.  Your usual fee will be transferred to your account when the information reaches me.”

“Good.  I wanted to warn you, though.  In some of these new realities, there are...things. Things of...supernatural power.  I’m getting you as much information as I can on them, so as to be better prepared if and when confronted.”  At this, Crossgrow laughed, a low, dry, chuckle.  

“I’m not afraid of the supernatural.  If it does exist in these new galaxies, then there are people who will know how to fight it in those galaxies.  And every man has a price.  So if the time comes, I merely must pay that price.  It’s simple.”  Drake said nothing.  He knew it wouldn’t be quite that simple.  But he also knew that disagreeing with the head of the most powerful corporation in the galaxy, and his highest paying employer, was not a wise decision.  

“If that’s how you play it, then that’s how you play it.  But I think I need more information.  Places, organizations with knowledge, information.  That’s what I must find.”  Crossgrow made a harrumph noise in his throat.  

“Well, in the meantime, tell me about the financial side to these new places.”

“Of course.  The biggest threat to the Guild is probably the Interstellar Manufacturing Corporation.  Monopoly.  Rules humanity in one of these other galaxies.  Produces quite powerful and interesting war machines.  I’ve got the schematics for one type.”  This elicited a laugh.

“I’m reasonably sure that you stole that from one of your...what do you call them…” he paused for a moment, then snapped his fingers in realization.  “Ah, Scoundrels!  Didn’t you?”  Drake shrugged.

“Of course.  It’s being sent to you as we speak.  I’ve also got…” he trailed off as he tapped several buttons on his wrist computer.  “Schematics for…” He looked up and grinned.  “Chainsaw swords, plasma swords, rechargeable laser weaponry, jetpack boots, laser weapons that run off of explosive gasses, contractible body armor, high-quality medical gel that heals wounds almost instantly, cybernetic super-soldier armor, three types of personal shields, teleporters, omnitools, so-called ‘phaser weaponry’, two types of power armor, and the blood readouts from biotics, pariahs, and SPARTANs.”  He held up a hand to forestall Crossgrow’s confused look at the last three items on the list.  “It’s all described in the report.”  

“Ah, very good.  Very good, indeed, Captain Drake.”  A slightly amused look crossed Crossgrow’s face.  “Although, won’t your compatriots be upset if they knew you were selling their secrets?”  Drake smiled in response.  

“If they ever found out.”  HIs smile grew wider, and both he and Crossgrow repeated the mantra in perfect synchronization.  “Besides, that’s just.  Good.  Business.”  

“Forget everything you think you know.” -Karl Mordo, upon Dr. Strange’s arrival in Kamar-Taj

Marvel Galaxy

Earth

The New York Sanctum

Doctor Steven Strange was a wizard.  Not “wizard” in the sense that he was extremely good at something, like “technological wizard” or “engineering wizard”, but a literal magic wizard.  Once upon a time, he had been a prestigious surgeon, but that had all ended in the fires of a car crash.  He had traveled the world, trying to heal his broken body, and stumbled on a place that taught actual, real, magic.  

Through a strange series of events, he had mastered these “mystical arts” and become the head of Earth’s sorcerers.  It was his job to defend the planet and all its inhabitants from any and all magic or extra-dimensional threats.  This, of course, was now a particular problem, seeing as eight different realities from different dimensions now existed in the same material universe as his reality did. Now he had eight new galaxies to take care of, and possible threats from all of them to fight.

Wonderful.

He sighed to himself.  Might as well get started.  Get it done with.  Hopefully he didn’t get eaten.  He breathed in, breathed out, his mind calm, tranquil.  His heavy red cloak billowed around him, lifting him in the air as he took a cross-legged position.  One more deep breath.  He drew upon his power, and allowed his mind to roam.  Not freely, of course.  Silently.  His metal defenses were high.  No entities, no beings, could tune onto the small signature he emitted.  It took practice, hours upon hours of it, combined with an innate talent to disguise one’s mental signature so.  

He floated, his mind calm.  Thoughts, emotions, feelings…   Interesting.  They all flitted through his brain, caressing the edges of his mind.  Nothing for now.  He roamed higher.  Opened his mind to beyond his Earth, beyond his reality...and was immediately assaulted, battered, his mind tossed around like a cork upon an ocean.  Travesty, glory, tragedy, celebration, hatred, hope, love, rage…  He wanted to scream.  He did not.  He merely steeled his mental defenses, clamping down on the sanity of his own brain.

He saw...darkness crashing against light.  An eternal battle, observed by one.  Something larger at play.  Something he did not, could not comprehend.  Time began, the beginning played out, a universe expanded.  Light.  Beginning.  Emotion.  Differences.  It reminded him of the principle of yin-yang, but on a much larger scale.  Strange watched the universe, as millions of stars were born and died.  The light encompassed everything.  Shadows, tendrils of darkness, battled it, fought it, sometimes snuffed it out.  The light won when it came forward, burning away the darkness, but if the light failed, gave up, the darkness crept forward to take its place.  The light was passive, in a way, upholding the rules with a code of honor.  The dark was not.  It surged, striking forward, defying the rules and logic itself.  Interesting.  Strange got the feeling that there was something more here at play, something he didn’t know yet.  But it wasn’t a threat.  Yet.  It could wait.  He moved to the next galaxy, the next reality that had been entwined with his.  

Next.  His mind reached out once more.  Now this place...this one was interesting.

It has power.  Not separated from the real world, not some ancient deities having eldritch chess games.  No.  This one had...something different.  An energy field, created from the energy of all living things, surrounding them, binding them, letting some get a taste of its power.  Most interesting indeed.  He went further.  

A field.  A field of ghosts.  Roughly divided in two.  On one side, strength, power, hate, rage, passion.  On the other, peace, knowledge, serenity, harmony.  Two different sides, two different users and practitioners of this energy field.  Different individuals.  No gods.  No demons.  Only mortals.  But powerful ones.  Two in particular stood out.  Both on the side of passion.  A void, a hungry, hungry void encompassing an individual of massive power.  Another, a crackling nimbus of darkness and selfishness.  They did nothing.  But should they break free from this field of ghosts...the consequences...hmmm.  What was this place, even?  A place of the dead?  Reflections of the living?

Strange whirled around as he felt a presence behind him.  Another shade.  But not milling on the field with the others.  This one stood alone.  It was of both sides...but neither.  Light and dark swirled within the figure in perfect harmony.  It walked forward, towards him.  Strange could sense it was, or once was, a human.  It wore stylized armor and a mask under a black, heavy, hooded robe.  It inclined its head in greeting to Strange.  

“What...what are you, exactly?” asked Strange.  The robed figure started out on the field of ghosts.  

“I was once like you, sorcerer.”  The voice was whispery, swirling, ghostly.  Beneath Strange could hear the faint trace of the voice of a dead man.  “A man with a destiny.”  

“Why are you not with the others?” said Strange.  The figure gave the phantom impression of a laugh, then a sigh.  

“I do not walk in the light, for it robs me of the stars.  I do not walk in the dark, for it robs me of my surroundings.  I walk in the twilight, and while both are dulled, I can see the entire picture and walk in balance.”  He turned towards Strange.  “Some say it is between light and dark.  It is not.  You must have balance.  You must have harmony between the two.  There is a war coming, sorcerer.  A war that you must win.  Your power will be with you.  Always.  Remember that.”  The ghost faded into oblivion, and the vision of the field ended.  Odd. The vision was something to meditate on for another day.  After he had the complete picture.  

Next one.  This one had a parallel universe.  A shadowy reflection of the real world, ruled by...something.  The ruler wasn’t human, wasn’t demon or god, it was...something else.  A creature of the shadows.  Formed by them.  Made by them.  This reality was odd, yes, but it had no place in the real world.  It could not come to nor affect the realm he was sworn to protect.  No threats here.  Next.  

No magic here.  Science.  More than anything else.  Fine.  Good, actually.  Less work for him to do.  He was about to turn and leave, when he felt a presence.  Something different.  An ancient being.  Strange blinked, and suddenly found himself in a blank white room.  What?

Staring at him, lounging in a comfortable white chair with a drink in hand, was a man (no, being, he corrected himself) wearing a ridiculous, outlandish, garb of an old school extremely wealthy Renaissance priest.  Okay.  That was a new one.  Personally, he much preferred the man from the other galaxy with his armor and heavy robe.  Whatever.  He was getting sidetracked.  The being grinned at him.  

“Surprised?” it asked.  Strange recovered quickly. 

“No,” he replied.  The being laughed uproariously.  

“He he, yes you are!”  It sipped its drink.  “It is so rare to get guests!”  He turned suddenly, looking around at things that were not there.  “Hmm.  My time is short.  There is much work to be done in little time.  The gods of humanity are outnumbered.  A war is coming.  Heh.  I see someone already told you that.  Yes.  There are forces teaming up.  The darkness is spreading.”  The being leaned closer.  “I usually am not so straight forward, but it is doubtful you’ll see me again, so I must tell you these things now.  Anyway, be prepared.  Have fun.  Try not to die.  That would be bad.”  The being snapped its fingers, and the room disappeared, leaving Strange hovering over the universe once more.  He shook his head.  Usually massively powerful beings did not make odd jokes while inviting him for drinks.  More things to remember, more things to meditate on.  He had to move on.

In two other universes, nothing.  No semblance of any sort of magic or higher beings.  Good.  Nothing to worry about there.  Next.  

No magic here.  Nothing.  But..something was off.  The souls of the dead were...missing.  Nothing here.  Odd.  No matter.  No gods, no demons, no other eldritch beings.  Fine.  Mysteries could be solved on other days.  He had more important things to do.  

He turned his gaze to the last galaxy.  Felt as his mind and spirit floated forward.  Immediately, he recognized this galaxy as two dimensions in one.  Strange.  But today was a day for oddness.  Warily, he crept forward, mentally entering the new galaxy.  

Emotion.  Hate.  Rage.  BLOOD.  Apathy.  Stagnation.  ROT.  Movement.  Hope.  CHANGE.  Lust.  Pain.  EXCESS.  So much.  Too much.  Conflicting ideas.  Dead uncountable, screaming in torment from a sea of souls.  A Great Game, a chess match between beings he didn’t even want to know existed.  And endless war, for billions of years, between factions so powerful he felt as if he were a single grain of sand in an hourglass, a person of such small importance that he could do nothing to change the future that would doom everything.  

He screamed as these emotions, as the chaos of this place engulfed him, clawed at him, threatened to drown him.  He tried to break free, used all of his power to try and get as far away from this place as he could, away from the madness.  He gritted his teeth and focused, focused harder than he ever had, focused harder than the time after the wreck where he could not get his hands from shaking.  He felt as if he were trapped, unable to run as if in a terrible nightmare.  He could feel as creatures, demonic inhabitants of this realm started to notice his presence, started to turn their hungry stares towards him as he struggled even harder, looking for any salvation.  

A light.  Faint, in the darkness.  He rushed towards it, the souls of the damned clawing at his cloak, the demons closing in with the force of an unstoppable tide.  He felt as if he were on a treadmill, unable to go anywhere, stuck in one spot, pursuers closing in.  He felt their hot, foul breath on his back, felt their horrible talons and teeth…

Then, nothing.  He spun.  Nothing.  No pursuers.  No demons.  He fell to his knees, breath coming in gasps.  After he caught his breath, he came to his feet and looked at his surroundings.  He was still in the sea of souls.  Still in this odd, horrible dimension.  But, this part was different.  A blinding, golden light shot up as if from nowhere, keeping the darkness and terror at bay.  What?  How?  He walked forward, surroundings bare, the great golden light making sure that no demons tread here.  As he walked, he felt...something.  

A single voice, screaming through the void.  A soul slit, in utter agony, bruised, beaten, but unbowed.  Strange felt the voice, using his powers to attune himself to it.  It had been in pain for...millennia now.  Pain was a constant companion.  But it would not give into the pain.  Never.  

Strange looked forward.  The beam was being produced by something...no.  Wrong.  Someone.  He shuddered involuntarily.  The sheer power required to produce such a thing, let alone to sustain it…  No wonder the voice was in pain.  Strange looked around again.  He had seen enough.  Knew enough.  Time to go back.  He leapt up, leaving this place, still keeping the light in sight...

When suddenly a being of unfathomable power and incalculable malevolence turned it’s gaze towards him.  He shied away from it.  Now was not the time to trifle with such a thing.  

Time, space, and reality warped around him.  Every color, yet no color swirled.  The being came into focus in front of him.  It was ever-changing, morphing from one form to the next with no pretext.  He hid his eyes.  To stare at it would be to go mad.  It studied him.  Looked at him with amusement, like a child studying insects under a microscope.  Then, it spoke.  Its voice was the worst thing Strange had ever heard.  Constantly changing, echoing like a nightmare into the void around him.  

“The Anathema's pathetic light cannot protect you for long, sorcerer.”  Strange winched, and shielded his face even more.  

“What are you?” he asked in response.  The being laughed.  Strange screamed.  The laugh echoed around him, promising the bending of time and reality as he knew them.  

“Do not ask which creature screams in the night.  Do not question who waits for you in the shadow.  It is my cry that wakes you in the night, and my body that crouches in the shadow.  I am Tzeetch, and you are the puppet that dances to my tune…”  Strange pulled back.  This was out of his league.  He made a motion, and activated his one, final, failsafe.  The locket around his neck opened, and a stone within glowed green.  The being, Tzeetch, grimaced, hissed, and launched at the same time.  

“Oh, ho!  Your pathetic trinket cannot keep you safe for long.  Every time you use your power, every time anyone bends the laws of nature to their own whims, I will be waiting.  Know that I will be watching you and guiding your fate, mortal.”  Strange said nothing.  He could do nothing against such a being.  “Now, go pack to where you came from.”  With a great, ringing, clap, Strange opened his eyes.  He found himself back in New York.  His cloak let him down with a thud on the hardwood floor.  He winced, then stood.  A meeting had to be called.  He just hoped superheroes would be enough to stop whatever came next.  

[Author’s note: For the curious, Tzeetch is pronounced zeen-ch]

I hope you liked it.  While I didn’t want to give you the names of any of the people in Strange’s visions, preferring instead for you to guess for yourselves, the line “I am Tzeentch and you are the puppet that dances to my tune” was just too good to pass up.  I also do hope that you could follow at least some of my ramblings there, but, if you couldn’t, feel free to ask me any questions you may have, along with any comments, criticisms, requests, or concerns.  Wherever you are, I hope you have a great day.  

#writing #my writing #fiction #crossover #crossover story #ulitmate crossover #fanfic #magnificent scoundrels

[randomestfandoms-ocs]

Supernatural OC Masterlist

Name: Ainsley Winchester

Story: Angel Born In Hell

Face claim:  Shelley Hennig

Love Interest: possible Jo Harvelle

Summary:  The middle child, Ainsley Winchester was often overlooked.  She spent half of her time arguing with her older brother, and the other half protecting her younger brother, and all of her time being tired of her dad’s pointless crusade.  But when her dad goes missing, she’s right there sitting shotgun on the way to get Sam from Stanford.  The Winchester siblings had always had a complicated relationship, but when push came to shove, Ainsley would do anything for her family.  Anything.

Name: Anna Winchester

Story: Memory

Face claim:  Kaylee Bryant

Name: Asher Milligan

Story: Don’t You Cry (No More)

Love Interest: Briony Harvelle

Face claim:  Dylan Sprayberry

Name: Belladonna

Story: Every Night Has Its Dawn

Face claim:  Zoey Deutch

Name: Briony Harvelle

Story: Don’t You Cry (No More)

Love Interest: Asher Milligan

Face claim:  Danielle Rose Russell

Summary: The first time Briony Harvelle met the Winchesters was only a week before she turned fourteen. It was a meeting she’d never forget - it was both her first hunt and her first near death experience - but she never expected to see them again. Until a few years later, when she comes from to see the Winchesters in the diner, this time with a boy her age, an apocalypse to stop, and strict orders for Briony and Asher to stay put. And though Briony may have just met him, it’s clear that Asher Milligan is about as willing to sit out the apocalypse as she is.

Name: Cybil

Story: Heavy Is The Head (That Wears The Crown)

Face claim:  Danielle Campbell

Name: Deborah Winchester

Story: Heaven Waits For You

Face claim:  Phoebe Tonkin

Love Interest: [REDACTED], Isaac Cabot

Summary:  Once upon a time, the three Winchester siblings had been inseparable.  Deborah, the oldest, was three when Dean was born, six when Sam was born, and seven when their mom burned to death in her childhood home.  When she was eight, her dad put a gun in her hand and told her about the monsters under the bed.  By the time she was nine, she could hold her own against the best hunters she knew.  

And that was her life for fifteen years; endless training with her dad, taking care of her brothers while her dad went on hunts, leaving her brothers while she went on hunts with her dad; going on hunts with her brothers; leaving her brothers while she went on solo hunts, and, eventually, leaving her brothers.  

When Deborah was twenty four, she grabbed her duffle - always packed for the next hunt - and left.  The only sign that there had ever been a third Winchester was the paper - two identical pieces of paper with a phone number and an LA address that she left under her brothers’ pillows.  And she never heard from them again.

When Dean turned twenty one, which they always promised to celebrate together, nothing.  When Sam started at Stanford, only a short drive away, nothing.  When she was twenty nine and gave birth to her wonderful daughter, Ruth Mary Winchester, nothing.

And then she turns thirty, John goes missing, Sam’s girlfriend dies just like their mom, and suddenly, after six years of nothing, her baby brothers show up on her doorstep.

Name: Dinah Novak

Story: State Of Grace

Face claim:  Eliza Taylor

Love Interest: Dean Winchester

Name: Elizabeth “Elle” Winchester

Story: The World Upon Your Shoulders

Face claim:  Chloe Grace Moretz

Summary: Jerk, bitch, punk; Dean, Sam, Elle.  It was just the Winchester siblings against the world. Ever since Elle was dumped on John’s motel door yearly two decades ago, it had always just been the three of them against the world — right up until Sam ran away after a fight with their father and never came back. Years later and Elle and Dean have started to get used to just being a duo. Then John disappears and the two realize that they’ll have to drag Sammy out of his idyllic collage life and back into the nightmare he tried so desperately to leave behind. But, while the search for their missing father unravels many mysteries of their past, there’s one mystery they just can’t solve. What the Hell is happening to Elle Winchester?

Name: Esther Colt

Story: Living On A Prayer

Love Interest: Dean Winchester

Face claim:  Crystal Reed

Summary: When John Winchester started hunting, Bobby introduced him to Ruth Colt. The single mother of a three year old daughter, Ruth was reknown as one of the best active hunters around and was more than willing to partner with a novice. Over the years, the two partnered up more and more until, just before Esther turned ten, Ruth died on a hunt. Honouring a promise he’d made years before, John took Esther in and continued to train her alongside Sam and Dean. But Esther never stopped blaming John for her mother’s death, and on her sixteenth birthday, she was gone. They never saw or heard from her again, until John disappears and the brothers go to investigate a crashed plane.

Name: Evelyn “Eve” Jacobs

Story: If We Can’t Find Heaven

Face claim:  Vanessa Hudgens

Love interest: Dean Winchester

Summary: Jessica Moore had been her best friend, through infancy, middle school, high school, and four years at Stanford, and Evelyn Jacobs knew that something was wrong about her death.  She didn’t know how she knew it, but she did.  So she packed a bag and hopped on a bus, determined to find out the truth.  And if her path kept crossing with that of Sam Winchester and his unfairly attractive older brother then, well, Eve knew that there was no such thing as a coincidence.  She didn’t know if they would tell her the truth, or if she would have to do some digging of her own, but Eve would find out exactly what had happened to her, God help anyone who tried to stop her.

Name: Genesis

Story: Heaven Won’t Take Me Back

Face claim:  Jenny Boyd

Summary: It had been a long time since Genesis had set foot in heaven.  As Lucifer’s right hand, she had been cast away with the archangel aeons ago.  But Genesis didn’t believe in Hell, just like she hadn’t believed in Heaven.  No, Genesis had always supported mankind.  So for millennia, the angel had roamed the earth, befriending humans along the way.  She couldn’t interfere, not really, so when a four-year-old Dean Winchester started praying to anyone who would listen, begging for his mom back, there was nothing that she could do.  But twenty two years later, when Dean Winchester starts praying again — for protection for his baby brother — Genesis decides that she’s done playing the observer.  The Winchester brothers are facing an army from Hell, and who better than the former queen of Hell to fight beside them?

Name: Isaac Cabot

Story: Heaven Waits For You

Face claim: Joseph Morgan

Love Interest: Deborah Winchester

Name: Isla George

Story: No Grave Can Hold (My Body Down)

Love Interest: Dean Winchester

Face claim:  Nina Dobrev

Summary: The first time that Isla George met Dean Winchester, she thought it would be a one time thing. They finished the hunt together, got drunk, hooked up, and parted ways. And that was supposed to be the end of it. But their paths kept crossing, time and time again, until eventually she found herself hoping to run into him. Every time was the same. Share a motel, finish the hunt, get drunk, hook up, and leave while he slept. But when she runs into him while hunting a Wendigo, and finds out that his dad is missing, she can’t help but offer to help. She never thought about what secrets might come to light if she was still there in the morning.

Name: Jude Winchester

Story: Hey Jude

Face claim:  Trinity Rose Likins & Britt Robertson

Summary: Grandpa Bobby always told her that family don’t end in blood. And he was right, but Jude knew that there was still something to be said for the importance of blood. After all, blood was the reason that she was Jude Winchester; blood was the reason that Dean had begged his ex girlfriend to give him their daughter instead of putting her up for adoption, blood was the reason that he’d gone against John Winchester’s orders and kept her, blood was the reason that he’d named her after his mom’s favourite song. But family wasn’t just blood; family was living with Uncle Bobby when hunts were too dangerous for the ten year old, family was trying pumpkin pie with her dad in every diner they’d ever stopped in, family was driver picking the music and shotgun shutting his cakehole. Family was joining dad and Uncle Sam in looking for her grandfather, even though he’d never made a secret of how much he wanted her gone. Family don’t end in blood; it don’t start there either, and Jude Winchester will do anything for her family.

Name: Katia McKinley

Story: Hallelujah

Face claim: Candice King

Name: Marmaroth

Story: Winds Of Fortune

Face claim: Meg Donnelly

Name: Naomi Talbot

Story: Road To Hell

Face claim: Alycia Debnam-Carey

Name: Rachel Winchester

Story: Angel With A Shotgun

Face claim:  Natalia Dyer

Summary: Rachel Winchester didn’t know all that much about herself. She knew that she was a mistake, that her dad didn’t - doesn’t - want her, and that her mother was named Lucy. She doesn’t know how her parents met, or how she ended up with her dad, or anything about the important things, and she doesn’t know why her dad won’t answer any of her questions. But she knows other things, things that aren’t to do with her past. She knows how to shoot a gun and perform an exorcism, she knows how to drive and hustle like a pro, and she knows how to keep her mouth shut and be a good soldier. But when John Winchester goes missing, Rachel knows one thing with more certainty than she’s ever had: if they don’t find their dad, she’ll never get the answers to the questions that matter.

Name: Roxanne Marlow

Story: Good Times, Bad Times

Face claim:  Kaya Scodelario

Name: Ruth Winchester-Cabot

Story: Heaven Waits For You

Face claim:  Summer Fontana

Name: Scarlett

Story: Beyond Your Command

Face claim:  Kat McNamara

Name: Thomas Novak

Story: Of Angels And Apocalypse

Face claim:  Finn Wolfhard

Summary: Thomas Novak never believed in god.  Or in angels, or heaven or hell or anything that goes bump in the night.  Or at least, he didn’t.  Not until his dad was possessed by some self-righteous asshole angel named Castiel, who also possessed his sister Claire, and who tried to possess him.  But asshole angels don’t think about the people they hurt with their actions, and didn’t think about the consequences of the Novak twins losing their father.  So Thomas decides to tell him, and maybe get his father back.  Only, apparently it isn’t that simple, and he finds himself travelling the country with the asshole wearing his father’s body and two equally asshole “hunters” named Sam and Dean.  All he wanted was to get his dad back, but now it looks like Thomas is going to have to stop the apocalypse.

#masterlist #supernatural oc

[juliandev0rak]

Hometown 🤠🐴

One: Hometown – what was the place they called “home” like? What were the people like? Did your OC like it there or did they leave the first chance they got?

echoes of the past event

@arcana-echoes​

Camellia Giardini, they/them Western Venterre 14 years before the events of The Arcana

Words: 1554

Warnings: none

It’s another dusty August day on the Giardini Ranch, the heat making waves and casting a haze over the fields. The sound of cattle lowing in the distance and cicadas buzzing makes the afternoon feel sleepy and although there’s still a lot of work to do before the day is over, nobody feels much like doing it. 

Perched in a large oak tree sits Camellia, nose stuck in a book as usual. They’re far enough from the fields to avoid their family, but close enough to find their way back when it starts to get dark. Their horse Miele is grazing a few feet away, both of them enjoying a break after a morning out in the sun. At eleven years old Camellia is expected to be helping on the ranch, herding the cattle and harvesting alongside their older siblings. 

Normally, someone would have gone looking for Cam by now, with the harvest quickly approaching all hands are needed. But it had been decided that afternoon that it’s better for everyone if Cam stays out of the way during the busy season, they do more harm than good when they try to help.

Camellia can barely stay in their saddle, much less try to open and close gates or be of any use with the cattle. Even simple tasks like harvesting apples or picking vegetables are ruined by Cam’s wandering mind and Miele, who is never far from their side, who has an insatiable appetite and ends up eating more than Cam can even pick. 

Their older siblings, Cassia, Calix, Calla, and Calanthe, seem to have no problem following in their family’s footsteps, each of them seeming at home on horseback and suited to the task of farm work. Even Cam’s younger siblings, Canna, Clio, Crisanta, and Clema who is only three, manage to make themselves useful harvesting or helping Ma in the kitchen. 

It’s only Camellia who seems to have no place here, always knocking things over or forgetting to close the stable doors. 

It’s always,

 “Out of my way, Camellia!” 

“Move aside, Cam!” 

“To your left! No your other left! Camellia, what are we going to do with you!”

Everywhere they go, Cam leaves chaos in their wake. They try to be careful, to watch where they walk and to listen to instructions, but they can’t seem to do anything right. That’s why they’re sitting in a tree alone in the middle of a busy work day, it’s better this way. 

The one thing Cam seems to be good at is reading, and luckily their family home has a library that nobody else seems to care about. The book they’re currently reading is about alchemy, a topic which seems to have been a special interest of Cam’s great great grandfather Carlo who had built the house. 

The library is where Cam spends most of their free time. It’s not a huge collection, but it’s well stocked with farmer’s almanacs and books about magic, so at least they have something to read. Their family doesn’t venture into the old wing of the house much, preferring to spend their time in the kitchen or living areas which are better heated and have more ventilation. But Cam doesn’t mind the dust or the cold, they just like having a room to themself.

Bedrooms are hard to come by in the old house and Cam shares a room with both Calla and Calanthe. While Calla is nearly sixteen and the nicest of their siblings, Calanthe is thirteen and intent on making Cam’s life as difficult as possible. The rest of their siblings act similarly, teasing them for everything and exposing Cam’s every mistake to their parents. Calla is the only one who encourages Cam to study and develop their interests, the only one who tries to understand them.

Aside from reading, Cam’s biggest interest is in magic, though they tend to think of it more as a science than a supernatural force. Even at a young age, Cam knows there are some things that can’t quite be explained, and that magic is a way to look for those explanations. 

Camellia’s Ma has a bit of magic herself, able to dry clothes at the touch of a hand, heal minor wounds, and the like, but she’s never had an interest in exploring it further. When Cam had begun to show similar signs of magical talent their parents hadn’t thought much of it besides hoping it might help Cam improve at their chores. 

So Camellia has taken things into their own hands, trying to practice and hone their skills as much as possible with only the few books they can find in the library as a guide. Their siblings make fun of them for trying and failing at magic just as they do with everything else, but Cam isn’t ready to give up. 

Just yesterday they’d been practicing and had accidentally set their mother’s prized lemon tree on fire. They’d been too proud of their fire conjuring to notice that it was burning uncontrollably, and luckily Cassia had been nearby with a bucket of water. Cam had been scolded endlessly for their irresponsibility, and it had carried over to this morning when they’d accidentally let the cattle out of their gate with the flick of a hand, nearly causing a stampede.

That was when their father had decided to give Cam the next few weeks off, better to have them out of the way where they can’t cause more trouble. They’d overheard their parents talking at lunch about sending Camellia away where they could be “put to better use”. Cam had run out of the house immediately, not wanting to hear how much their family wanted to get rid of them. 

They’d jumped on their horse and made their way to the oak tree, the only place to get some peace and quiet with eight siblings always around. It’s been many hours since then and Cam’s stomach is rumbling from missing lunch, they’re considering venturing back home when they hear a voice from the distance calling their name. It’s their older sister Calla.

“Cammy, come down from the tree.” She calls, her apron is covered in flour so Cam knows she’s been sent from the kitchen to find them. 

“Why should I! Maybe I’ll live here now, everyone would like that better.” Cam says angrily, suddenly feeling like they might cry but not wanting to do it in front of their sister. 

“Oh Cam, you know Ma and Pa didn’t mean it when they said they’d send you away.” Calla frowns, the expression not looking right on her usually happy face “And if they did I’d talk sense into them.” 

“I don’t belong here, I hate cows.” Cam mutters. Calla laughs at that, not unkindly, and reaches the bottom of the tree. 

“I don’t like them much either, but there’s plenty of other things to do.” She says, “When you’re older you can do the bookkeeping, and help Ma at the market, I bet you’d be good at that! And I know Cassia and Calix hate doing it, I’m sure they'd be happy to spend more time outside.” 

“I don’t want to do the bookkeeping, I want to do magic.” Cam sighs, swinging their leg down from the branch they’re perched on.

“And you’re good at it! Maybe we can find you a teacher someday.” Calla smiles, ever the optimist. “Isn’t Aunt Angela a witch?” 

“That’s just a rumor, Pa doesn’t like her so he calls her that, remember?” Cam laughs, thinking about their mother’s sister who had disappeared mysteriously a few years earlier. She’s somewhat of an enigma to the family, none of the children really know much about her aside from the cards she sends on birthdays and holidays.

“Well maybe it isn’t, Ma has magic after all. What if her sister does too!” Calla grins, “She lives in the city somewhere, maybe you should visit.”

“Now you’re trying to get rid of me.” Cam says, only half joking.

“Cam, I would never, you know I’d miss you too much if you went away.” Calla says sincerely, offering her hand up to help Cam. “Now come down! We made ricciarelli.” 

“But it’s not the holidays?” Cam questions, the family usually reserves cookie making for winter time when everyone is stuck indoors.

“You looked like you could use some sweets, I convinced Ma to make them as a harvest treat.” Calla smiles, her blue eyes, the same color as Cam’s, shining.

If there’s anything to motivate Cam it’s sweets. They finally decide to jump down from the tree, grabbing Calla’s offered hand for help. As they put Miele back in the stables, Cam can’t help but think about what Calla said about finding a magic teacher. 

It seems too good to be true, and they don’t know if they believe their Aunt Angela is really a witch. Still, Cam has to hope that someday they’ll be able to find a place to belong. Hopefully a place with less cows and siblings. 

As they walk back to the house, Cam takes in the rolling hills and old growth trees around them in the golden light of sunset. The countryside is beautiful, and although Cam doesn’t like living here, they have to admit that at least the scenery’s nice.

#arcana eotp #apprentice cam #rip to me trying to remember all of cam's siblings

[whatthehellisastilesimagine]

Platonic?: A Stiles Stilinski Headcanon

Request from @estupidegirl: Hello! a story about Stiles and Reader in brotherly relationship, I really like stories in which the reader is someone's sister in the package, I will fully understand if you refuse.

So it’s been a while; is anyone actually still here? Just in case you are, here’s something that was requested a looong time ago! Hope it’s okay for you, lovely and enjoy x 

You first met Stiles Stilinski at the age of five. It was the first day of school when you were approached by a young boy with a cheeky grin and bright brown eyes.

“Why are you sitting by yourself? You should come and play with me and my friend, Scott.”

You don’t know why, but you followed the boy who wanted to be everyone’s friend without a shred of doubt in your heart. And thank God you did, otherwise you never would have embarked on the adventures that you have.

Stiles never wanted to tell you about the supernatural side of Beacon Hills, hiding the fact that Scott had been turned into a werewolf for longer than you felt was necessary. That was when you had your first proper fight, well apart from when he stole your favourite teddy as a joke at the age of eight, and you vowed to never argue with him again.

His eyes fell to the floor with hurt as you yelled at him for lying to you, frowning as he accepted that withholding such vital information from you was the wrong thing to do. You were best friends, you were practically the sister he had never had, and he needed you. You were a team, and he was wrong to ignore that, even if he thought he was protecting you.  

From then on, from the moment you apologised to each other, Stiles hugging you with every might of his being, your relationship only got stronger. You listened to him as he admired Lydia from afar, laughing when he retold the story of how she believed blue and orange was a bad combination.

It was the colour of the Mets, how could she possibly think so?

When he told you he was planning on taking himself to Eichen House, there was nothing you could do but support him as he had done to you over the years. You held him close as he poured out all those feelings that he felt he couldn’t share with anyone else, holding his hand one last time as he left.

“It’ll be okay, Stiles. We’ll figure it out, we always do.”

The next time you saw Stiles was when he wasn’t Stiles. You hated the way that thing looked at you, the way it taunted you.

“Stiles cares about you, but you know that. You know, he’s in here, screaming at me not to hurt you. You’re like a sister to him, after all. But I wonder, do you want more than that?”

You ignored it all, not knowing at this point that you were hopelessly in love with Stiles Stilinski.

And so the years passed, and of course, it was senior year, when everything was destined to go horrifically wrong in true McCall pack style, that you realised your feelings for Stiles were far more than the platonic ones you had embraced for so long.

The final nail in the coffin was when he was taken by the Ghost Riders, his final words haunting you even when you couldn’t remember who had said them.

“Remember, I love you.”

The next few weeks were agony as you strived to remember the person that you knew you shared a bond with, the person who had been your brother for so long, the person who had harboured feelings for you over so many years. Feelings that you had reciprocated.

Finally, finally, you and the pack remembered Stiles Stilinski, reunited with him being the best thing that had possibly ever happened to you.

And that kiss, that kiss that had been a hell of a long time in the making, was something you were sure you would never forget. His lips against yours, kissing you as if you had both been starved of each other your entire lives, your eyes meeting when you parted, his fingers intertwined with yours, becoming the memory of a lifetime. 

Agent McCall managed to pull some strings, both of you having shown an interest in the FBI and solving crime your entire lives. On that final day at school, when you readied yourselves to depart for Virginia, Stiles’ hand rested on your knee as you drove together.

He smiled at you, a familiar grin that had stayed with him since that moment in the playground all those years ago.

The story ending the same way it had begun.

Masterlist

#teen wolf #teen wolf imagines #teen wolf imagine #teen wolf headcanon #teen wolf headcanons #stiles stilinski #stiles stilinksi imagine #stiles stilinski imagines #stiles stilinski x reader #stiles stilinski headcanons #stiles stilinski headcanon #mieczyslaw stilinski #dylan o'brien

[persephonescat]

Birds and Other Supernatural Phenomenons

Okay, so the first two chapters turned out to be a little dry, but I have big hopes for the third one, so... hang on there! Yes, I know the first few paragraphs are flat, I tried to make them better, and I failed miserably.

IMPORTANT: This is an AU, so things are a teeny bit different. The Francoise-Dupont is an eight-year grammar school (those are a thing in Europe, or at least in a few countries. The kids start middle school and go to the same school until high school graduation, so its both a middle school and a high school in one. Foreign languages are usually thaught there on a higher level, so that explains Marinette's and her class' language skills.)

That's it so far, most changes will be written down in the story, but keep an eye on the summaries! ;) (Even though no one reads these.)

This is also posted on my AO3 account, under the same name.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/21187025/chapters/50674913

Follow #Birds and Other Supernatural Phenomenons if you don’t want to miss any of the new chapters. ;)

Ch. 1      Next    Masterpost    AO3

________________

Ch. 2: This Was a Bad Idea

Their plane didn't crash.

That was about the only good thing Marinette could think of.

It all started when she and Adrien were forced to sit next to each other during the flight. It wasn't that bad, but things have been a little... tense between them lately. Even though Marinette forgave him a long time ago, she still felt a sense of betrayal every time she had to fight an akuma alone. She knew it was wrong. She had no right to prevent others from being happy. Especially not her friends, but she couldn't help it.

So they sat next to each other, and the first half-hour was spent with Marinette awkwardly staring out of the window and playing with her braid nervously, while Adrien was pretending to read a book, - very poorly, given that he only turned the page five times in thirty minutes. Marinette was counting it.

What a pleasing situation.

Then, of course, Lila got bored of talking about her experience with planes and started throwing around phrases like 'helping defeat the Joker', 'out-riddling the Riddler' and 'knowing who Red Robin is'.

During the past two years, her lies have gotten smaller. Smarter. More innocent. They were no longer fourteen, they didn't believe anything she said, and she realized that. After Lila swore to ruin Marinette's life, Hawkmoth's attacks got stronger and Marinette got... well, older, probably. Wiser. ( Sadder. ) Sometimes she still called her out on her lies, and on a few blissful occasions, her classmates believed her. She wasn't the only one who got wiser, as it turned out. Adrien started to see the wrong in his ways not long after he told Marinette that Lila was harmless and stood up for her almost every time the Italian girl's lies got too toxic to ignore.

There was some kind of quiet compromise between her classmates. They liked Lila, even if she wasn't always "completely honest" - that was the understatement of the year -, and they all had this "proceed with care but do no harm" attitude towards the girl.

So Marinette was pretty surprised when sitting only two seats behind her, Lila once again started feeding them lies so blatant and stupid that they almost managed to make her laugh. It would've been a long and sarcastic laugh, but a laugh nevertheless.

She turned to Adrien who was looking back at her with an expression somewhere between angry and surprised. They stared at each other for a few seconds before they both started grinning uncontrollably.

Then Nino interrupted Lila by showing the group his newest playlist, and the moment was gone.

The awkward silence was threatening to drown them, but Marinette was familiar with drowning and decided she didn't like it.

"What are you pretending to read?" Adrien's ears turned red at the question but being himself, he tried to play it off cool.

" Armada  by Ernest Cline."

She raised a brow, clearly amused by that. "Since when are you into sci-fi?"

"Since it was the first thing I could grab from the bookshelf this morning," he told her with a shrug and closed the book moodily.

Marinette grimaced at him and took a small copy of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's  Sherlock Holmes out of her bag. Adrien told her to check it out a long time ago, but given her lack of free time, she's only read two stories so far.

She gave it to him without a word.

"Thanks," he said brightly, and actually started reading this time.

Marinette gave him the ghost of a smile, then pulled out her sketchbook hesitantly. She hasn't designed a decent piece of clothing in ages. One would've called it a year-long artist's block, but she preferred "idiocy". It was shorter.

She fell asleep like that, with an empty sketchbook on her lap and a pencil in her hand.

***

Their hotel was near the Gotham Academy, which was near Arkham Asylum, which sucked. Seriously, Gotham? Yeah, let's put the kids next to the murderous psychopaths.

Once they arrived, it was already well past nine PM, so they were sent to their rooms to sleep. They had three rooms for the girls, two with four beds and one with two. Luckily, Marinette managed to occupy the double-room all to herself - Mylene, Chloe, Juleka, and Alix got a room together, and Alya, Rose, Lila, and Sabrina got the other-, so it was pretty easy to sneak out after she realized there was no way for her to stay still after sleeping on the plane.

Being inside past ten o'clock felt weird. She missed the patrols and the light breeze on her face while she swang around Paris, the sensation of falling freely from hundreds of meters, the calm of the environment as she made impossible leaps and jumps in a graceful rhythm.

With no better things to do, she pulled a blanket out of the closet and climbed to the roof.

That night, the sky was more blue than black, and the stars were dull from the city's polluted air. She sat there for who-knows-how-long, wrapped in a blanket, looking upwards, listening to the unfamiliar city beneath. Then she heard quiet footsteps behind her back.

Over the years, she learned the difference between the sounds of someone walking casually and someone trying to muffle their steps, just like she usually knew what kind of shoes they wore, their gender, and approximate height too. These were the steps of a thin man, probably young in leatherette boots, trying to sneak up on her and failing miserably. She let him come close and didn't bother to let him know she was aware of his presence.

"What does a young lady like you do here at this time of the day?" he asked in a charming but threatening voice, and Marinette had to suppress a smile at how badly he did it. She knew she should send him away, or go back to her room before he tries something that gets him ended up on the asphalt beneath them, but she was bored, and he seemed like a very entertaining person.

Instead, she answered just tonelessly enough for it to be challenging, but innocently enough to make him question it.

"Stargazing."

The man - more like a boy - stopped just a step behind her back, unsure how to proceed. Then he let out a resigned sigh and sat down next to her, far enough to not be in stabbing range -  smart decision.

"No, seriously, it's past midnight and you're sitting on a roof, eighteen stories from the ground, in  Gotham," he said, swinging his legs over the edge of the building and looking at her with genuine concern.

Marinette finally looked at him and recognized him almost immediately. He was wearing a black hoodie and a ski mask, with jeans and dark boots.

"Oh, you're the Dark Nomad, right?" She's read about him on the plane, just like she checked out and memorized every hero and villain in Gotham. There were a few.

The Dark Nomad was one of the small, relatively harmless ones. His mother worked in the Asylum - they didn't know who she was exactly, just that she worked there -, he didn't actually do much except for exiguous vandalism, but it was enough to get him on the " List of Gotham's Villains (updated every week) " published by the city's very own newspaper, the  Gotham Gazette .

"The one and only," he saluted awkwardly.

"Then you're pretty good with psychology, right?"

He seemed a little taken back by the question.

"Yes, I mean... I guess."

Marinette turned to him with her whole body, sitting cross-legged, looking like someone who is looking forward to a great conversation. This was so much better than she thought.

"What do you think about the phenomenon where the people with higher-than-average IQ have lower-than-average EQ, but if someone has lower-than-average IQ, they most likely have average or lower-than-average EQ?"

Dark Nomad just stared at her for a moment but then decided to roll with it. It really was a good topic.

"Well, it's interesting because... it's not like you have a maximum of quotient points, and you've to live with what you have. It depends on a lot of things, and we still don't even  know  what half of those things are."

"Exactly! It could mean you need a high IQ to be able to understand and feel emotions healthily, but it's not always necessary, plus the trope of the genius robot-person is way too overused in media. That's not how smart people think!"

"Yeah, and in some cases, the low EQ could be the consequence of loneliness and isolation from a young age because of the differences in one's and the environment's thinking," Dark Nomad said, gesticulating widely.

"And by the way, EQ is pretty hard to express with numbers. If you give a test to someone, they might know what the appropriate responses to a situation are, but they might never actually... do them in practice."

Dark Nomad nodded.

"Have you read Daniel Goleman's books about emotional intelligence? It's pretty dope."

"Not yet, but I'm planning on it."

"By the way... I'm Jeremy," said the boy, sitting closer to her and reaching out for a handshake.

"Marinette," she told him with a genuine smile, accepting his hand.

________________

Comments and coffee are my life-juice, so please, share your thoughts. I'm sorry for any possible mistakes and feel free to point them out. 

Ch. 1      Next     Masterpost    AO3

#damari #damiette #daminette #maribat #damimari #fanfiction #dcu #mcb #Birds and Other Supernatural Phenomenons #marinette x damian #damian x marinette #marinette dupain-cheng #damian wayne #batman #AU #This Was a Bad Idea

[big-bad-ulf]

The Prodigal Wolf Returns || Ulfric & Winn

Timing: Midday, Thursday 4th of June  Parties: @packsbeforesnacks, @big-bad-ulf Summary: Ulfric meets with Winn to discuss what drove him out of town, and consider their next moves.  Warnings: Mentions of assisted suicide, depression, and grief.

The clearing in the woods was quiet, remote, and neutral. Somewhere they could both feel at home, but that neither could claim ownership of. Hearing footsteps approaching, Ulfric dropped the cigarette stub between his fingers, stamping it out into the leaf litter below to conceal most of the evidence of the bad habit he’d picked up again after Celeste’s passing, though the smoke still lingered accusingly. “I suppose thanks are in order, for coming all the way out here,” he greeted Winn stoically, before finally turning to face the returned wolf. “As you’re aware, I’m not the one who you need to explain your actions to.” He hoped it was apparent he meant Layla and Ariana, but the young man didn’t have the best track record thinking things through to their logical conclusion. “But I’d like one, because as it stands I can’t imagine a scenario in which ‘sparring’ with a tiny human girl while in wolf form was necessary? Nor was fleeing town when you knew others of your kind were in danger.” The older werewolf’s tone was tired, weighed down by the collective suffering of White Crest’s pack over the last few weeks, but an anger borne of disappointment simmered beneath the weariness. 

Winn had been dreadin’ this conversation since he’d figured out everyone thought he’d skipped town. Ulfric was… intimidating, to say the absolute least. Winn could handle teenagers. He could handle folks in his own (relative) age group. And Simon was, well, kind, in a way that he wasn’t sure Ulfric was. But part of the problem was that he didn’t know Ulfric. Didn’t know most of the wolves, really, all friendliness aside. So, worst-case scenario, Ulfirc hated him. Best case scenario, Ulfric thought he was an idiot. As he entered the clearing, smoke tickled his nose. The Full Moon was on them and Winn was pretty sure he’d have smelled it even if Ulfric hadn’t just been smoking, but he stowed the frown. It wasn’t his place to judge someone’s habits; he’d had bad habits of his own. Still had some. “I appreciate it,” Winn said, “but it’s unnecessary. I should thank you, for bein’ willing to hear me out.” He leaned against a tree, scrubbing at his eyes. Reconciling with his father and (part of) his former pack hadn’t helped his sleep, much as he wanted it to and, with Natalia out of town, he was running low on aram. “Talked to both of them. Only one left that knew, I think, is you.”

He weighed what he knew about Blanche in his mind, what he knew about Ulfric, and his newfound fondness for the truth. “Blanche is… like a sister, to me. She’s a trouble magnet. If there’s supernatural nonsense goin’ on in White Crest, I head her way. ‘Cause chances are, if she isn’t already involved, she will be in, like, an hour. I know it was stupid, thought I had better control than I did. After I got a hold of myself, I dipped, for just a few minutes. Came back, told Blanche that I was leavin’ to take care of some things, left a note somewhere I thought she’d find it. Phone had been dead before that, and I figured if she told folks I was gone, they’d know that I’d be back soon and couldn’t really make a twelve-hour drive shorter.” Winn sighed. “That’s usually the part of the story where folks have questions, so hit me. Oh, right. Social media. A shirtless photo of mine got flagged and, since I didn’t have my phone, I couldn’t contest the deactivation. That one was just coincidence. Lady Luck wasn’t in my favor.”

“It was stupid,” Ulfric confirmed when Winn was through with his explanation. He crossed his arms and paced in a tight, restless pattern as he weighed the other wolf’s actions, to decide what needed asking. It wasn’t like he could pass any judgment in an official sense, it would be up to Layla and Ariana and any of the other wolves who felt slighted to decide for themselves how they felt and how they wanted to interact with him on a personal level. But as a more experienced wolf, he felt obligated to address the aspects of Winn’s behavior that had the potential to harm the entire pack, or even their entire species. “I understand this girl means something to you, but we don’t need to be teaching more humans how to fight us.” Not that it was likely a human of average strength would stand much of a chance, even with whatever ‘mind powers’ Blanche supposedly possessed, but that was beside the point, their weaknesses were meant to stay between them. “Learning that would only help her against our kind, and if you’re worried any one of us is a threat to her that’s something that can be dealt with internally… It’s the fact you don’t seem to know your limits that troubles me most, though.”

Ulfric stopped and stood his ground as he came to that conclusion, looking over Winn appraisingly as he remembered the young wolf bragging about having killed a hunter. He’d chalked it up to mostly harmless arrogance at the time, but when he later explained he hadn’t done it on purpose that should’ve raised more red flags than it had. “You don’t seem like you’re that new to this. You should have a better grasp of how much control you do or don’t have. So, I suppose my questions are, do you know what pushed you over the edge? What do you plan to do to ensure this doesn’t happen again?”

Winn tried not to bristle at the half-accusation, pushing himself off the tree and walking towards Ulfric as, hopefully, non-threateningly as possible. “With all due respect, I never said that I was trainin’ her to take out wolves,” he said. And he hadn’t been! Werewolves were just big and so were, what, half of the things B would run into? “She only knows the bare minimum, assumin’ she hasn’t talked to Kaden ‘bout his other job. Ain’t hard for a human to try silver, given only every story about us tends to revolve ‘round that fact.” He took a deep breath, exhaling through his nose. “But we can argue ‘bout Blanche later, it’s not like I’ll be sparrin’ with her in wolf form again.”

“It worries me, too. ‘Cause I’ve…” he paused, looking up into the canopy to choose his words carefully. “Let me backtrack. You don’t know much about me, and it might be… helpful. Since you’re the wolf ‘round here with the most experience…” Now, Winn was pacing. “I was turned almost eight years ago. The only turned wolf in a pack of, uh, werewolf fraternity brothers, down south. They guided me through my first dozen shifts, taught me how to be calm. So, believe me when I say: I have plenty of control, ‘specially for not havin’ been a wolf all my life. And don’t get your britches in a bunch, I know that sounds like bullshit, right now.” Winn ran a hand through his hair, uncomfortable with the conclusions he was beginning to draw about his time ‘changed.’ “I said I accidentally killed a Hunter… well, that was half-true. The accident was my own — I was sleepin’ with a Hunter, didn’t know he was a Hunter. The killing was on purpose. Self-defense, when he abused my trust, tried to go after my pack.

“After that, I was in… a dark place. That would’a been late 2015. Next thing I remember, I was in Europe, staggering in my human form out of the woods in early 2018. Thought, until recently, I’d spent a year or two in and out of my wolf form… but, I’m startin’ to question that. Couple theories’ve been tossed around, maybe it isn’t true. But when I… attacked B, it felt different. On a Moon, when I let the wolf come to the forefront… even when I was tryin’ to keep us separate, I still knew what was goin’ on. But with B, I don’t remember anything between getting thrown into a tree and pullin’ myself back from the brink. It was, well, dissociative is maybe the closest way to say it. I was there, and then I wasn’t. I’ve never lost control like that. Not even, y’know, when I was still new at this. It’s… it’s like hittin’ that tree pulled something out of me, something from under my conscious. I— Have you ever heard of anything like that? Where a wolf just… wasn’t himself, or even his wolf self? Even if it had been, say, Ariana, I don’t think it would’ve changed it. I still think that… part of me would want to attack everything.”

“There’s no need for that if you’re not going to do it again.” Ulfric agreed with Winn’s statement about Blanche. Truthfully, he did not want to be having this argument in the first place. A good old-fashioned brawl could be cathartic but having to play the role of stern lecturer just made feel weary, worn-out, and old. Running wild together, celebrating a successful hunt, sharing tales of old legends and recent exploits, those were the things he’d looked forward to about being a part of a pack again. Having to step up and confront things that put them in jeopardy was a responsibility that came with that privilege, but not one he enjoyed or hoped to have to take up often.

The older werewolf couldn’t contain a small grimace of disgust upon hearing Winn’s story. The chance that they might be a hunter was one of the many reasons it was a bad idea to get involved that way with humans, but he didn’t bother to voice his opinion on that. The man was an adult capable of making his own choices and he’d also spent a lot of his life as a human, so it was easy to see where that mistake had come from. Besides, it seemed he’d more than learned his lesson on that front.

“I’m sorry that you had to go through that. I can’t imagine how hard it must have been to come back from a betrayal like that.” Ulfric replied at last, because the tale was tragic, if difficult for him to relate to on a personal level. “I haven’t heard of wolves entering an abnormal state like that,” Of course, his own ‘wolf self’ was similar in some ways to what Winn had described, an entirely animalistic being, but even then it retained the animal instinct not to attack its own kind without severe provocation and the risk of that side of himself emerging outside of a full moon was very low. “It seems the answers may lie in what happened in those lost years. What are the theories?” Staying transformed for the better part of years… Was such a thing truly possible? Ulfric could’ve almost been jealous of Winn for having that freedom from morals and responsibilities of the human world for so long, if the suffering it was causing him now wasn’t so apparent.

“Have you tried… it could be possible, or so I’ve heard, to bring some memories back through mystical means.” He suggested hesitantly. “I don’t like getting involved with such things, but you can’t just… go on the way you are, not without having to isolate yourself.” And that was the last thing he wanted for any of his kind, regardless of whether he held them in high regard or not. “If something were to bring on this feral state in front of a crowd that would mean disaster for all of us. And I’m sure you know that,” He leveled the younger wolf with a hard-nosed look. “Even if some of your actions suggest a distinct lack of judgment of the more mundane variety.”   

“I— Thanks.” Winn frowned, stopping his pacing as Ulfric spoke. “I have a… friend, who looked into some, uh, wolf causes. Didn’t find much, some reports of wolves stayin’ transformed who went… feral, who couldn’t change back into their human form.” What Rio had told him had scared him, but it hadn’t felt, well… correct. It seemed like even those wolves had the sense to not attack other wolves, that they retained some of their humanity, even if they became more animal than human. ‘Course, many of them didn’t live to tell their tale, and the records that Rio had found could only tell them so much. Some had been written by Hunters, others written by a wolf who had to put one of his own down. But Winn had come back, which seemed to be the wrinkle. No Hunter had ever tried to bring a wolf back to themselves, but not even a packmate could. So, if Winn had been transformed, how could he have come back?

“Given I’m back, though, my friend and I ruled that out. ‘Specially for a bitten wolf to come back from bein’ feral? Seemed unlikely. Not when there was another explanation. Which is, um…” Alright, okay. He could admit this aloud. “My dad is a huxian. He thinks it might be mystical, yeah. Somethin’ taken from me, or somethin’ I gave up.”

He swallowed, mouth dry. “I’m still tryin’ other avenues. R— My friend is lookin’ into… side-effects of wolfsbane. What shit street wolfsbane might get spiked with. I—” Winn scratched at his arms, almost wishin’ that he was wearin’ a shirt. “I took wolfsbane for months, after I killed that Hunter. Blamed myself for what happened to the pack. And I guess I… stopped.” He looked up into the canopy. “But you’re right. I need to figure out my shit, so I don’t put us all at risk. And, short of goin’ back on the wolfsbane — which I’m not gonna do — we really don’t have any leads. If there’s… a part of me, that’s missin’, then I don’t want to go on like this. I can’t. Even if…” Well, there was always this part. Winn looked back down at Ulfric, mouth set in a hard line. “Don’t… I don’t want your pity. This isn’t y’all’s problem, but there’s… well, if I’m missin’ two years, there’s a chance that…” He coughed. 

“There’s this Hunter I know. Luke mentioned him at the meeting. He… If I did somethin’ bad, hurt an innocent life, he’s the one I trust to… put an end to me. But I don’t want him knowin’ about what happened with B, and— I don’t know what could happen, if I get those memories back. No one I’ve talked to so far does. But if he’s… if I’m different, if I try to hurt someone, I need y’all to be willin’ to stop me. If that happens… As the person I am now, I want you… to take me down. If you can’t kill me, let me rot. If I can’t control myself, I am… I am not more important than all of you.” His voice was hoarse, tears pricked at the corners of his eyes. He couldn’t remember crying this much in a very long time, but he needed to be firm. “Promise me. Please. I’m sorry, so sorry, to put that burden on you.” He held out his hand, for the other wolf to take, to seal the pact. “But it has to be done.”

As Winn’s explanation continued, it became more and more clear to Ulfric that his actions couldn’t be explained away by stupidity or cowardice. That was a shame really, both of those causes would’ve been much easier to deal with than this mystery of missing memory. Everything Winn said seemed to introduce a new piece to the puzzle (Huxians, wolfsbane, and of course, the seemingly inescapable interference of hunters), but it was unclear how they whole fit together or how much of a threat would be revealed when the big picture came together. When the young wolf came to the end of his speech and what he was asking him to do sunk in, Ulfric’s blood ran cold. Protecting the pack was paramount, but the thought of killing another wolf was profane, it would be the ultimate sacrilege towards the gift his ancestors had bestowed upon him. 

“I’m not going to sit idly by and let you harm other members of the pack, of that you can be certain,” he answered carefully, considering his options. If Winn were to slip into a permanent state of mindless, unbridled aggression, the usual ‘last resort’ of exile would do little to keep him from returning and causing havoc in their territory. Caging was another possibility, but he knew if their circumstances were reversed, he’d prefer a quick death over a life spent in chains, and it seemed the young man would as well. And finally, allowing hunters to deal with him in that state would only further inflame their hatred towards his kind, along with being plain undignified. “If your continued existence poses a threat to their survival, I promise you, I’ll do what needs to be done.” Ulfric accepted after a long moment’s deliberation, giving Winn’s hand a firm, resolute shake, though the clamminess of his palm betrayed his instinctual, visceral reaction against the plan. “Let’s not let it come to that though,” He added, more of an instruction than a hope. “I’ve had my fill of death for the time being.” 

““Thank you,” Winn said, quietly. “But… Agreed. Don’t want it to come to that.” It wasn’t that Winn hadn’t considered his death before. Hell, after what had happened with his old pack, there had been times where he’d… well, where he’d really considered dying. Winn liked to think he was better, now. If not totally well-adjusted, at least pretty solid on the ‘me dying wouldn’t fix the issue’ mantra. Counseling helped that, and learning about counseling only reinforced it. Which is part of why he knew: “I need those memories back, though. Even if it hurts, or if there’s… a reason I buried them. Now that I know they might not be there, it’s like… it’s like I can feel the space where they used to be. They’re a blindspot, sure, but more than that they’re… part of me. I can’t…” He sighed, sitting down on the forest floor and breathing in the woods for a moment before continuing. “As I am now, I can’t imagine what reason I could have had to bury them or… take them? I don’t know anybody who’d have the answers. Plus, there’s all the shit with Luke, and what happened with Ari, and… Fuck, man, I haven’t even asked you how you’re doing. I… I mean, I didn’t know Celeste, but I talked to Ari some, and… I know it’s a cheap question, but are you okay, Ulfric?”

“I think I can understand that. Why you’d want them back.” Ulfric assured him. He was familiar with having gaps in his memory, though he’d never had much choice in the matter. Berserkers had lost the ability to remember most of their actions while transformed centuries ago, and their intentions behind that, if there were any, were shrouded in mystery and myth. He did have a choice, though, between taking the easy way out and walking away from the carnage he’d caused while in wolf form and reconstructing what happened during that time as best he could. Ever since his ill-thought-out vengeance against the hunters who took his younger siblings, he’d chosen to do the latter. Chosen to look at the carnage and accept why it had happened, and that it was a part of him.

 “What we do is what we are,” he pondered aloud, before directing his attention back on Winn more fully. “I respect your choice and wish you luck. You can count on me for… whatever it is you think I can provide.” Which wasn’t much, given his lack of expertise in the realm of the magical. He couldn’t even truthfully say he’d provide friendly support, because he was still too wary of the young wolf and the potential danger he posed to the pack as a whole to consider him a friend. An alliance was clearly in both their best interests though, so Ulfric refrained from repeating his earlier comments about not wanting any help from him when he asked how he was. “I’ll survive, so will you,” he stated simply and firmly instead, almost ordering the fates to make it so. “Any other option doesn’t bear thinking about.” The older wolf turned briskly and took off into the trees. Action was required of both of them, if the White Crest pack was ever going to be able to consider itself safe. They could spare no more time for conjecture and contemplation.

#chatzy #winn #the prodigal wolf returns #wickedswriting #suicide tw

[phoebehalliwell]

Since nobody liked Billie and the Ultimate Power plotline, how would you have ended Charmed? (Because you come up with like the most awesome headcanons and should totes have been hired to write the reboot!!!)

okay so as we all know the only reason we got billie was because they really needed new blood to carry on a spin off series and i know people wanted wyyat & chris show but you can’t go to the cw in 2006 like okay we’ve got two brothers fighting magical beings there’s the snarky younger brunet brother who’s a bit of a black sheep and then his older blond brother who’s really good at this and also dad’s favorite son bc uhhhh they already did supernatural. so you know back track this is your feminist show about some magical ladies kicking ass you should get a magical kickass lady to carry your spin off hey you know who else was a kickass magical lady buffy everyone loves buffy what if we made her sorta a buffy type except okay here’s the 411 on buffy is we know she already got a lot of slayer training so her cocky devil may care i know what i’m doing and can kick ass attitude is fine be we’re following her and we’re like hell yeah But if you’re giving that personality to your new character who’s introduction is through the people trying to teach her this cocky i can handle myself attitude is actually Incredibly Annoying bc it’s obvious she doesn’t know everything and Of Course we are going to side with her mentors as we’ve been following their stories for nearly a decade now. so to fix season eight we need to fix billie.

having her be paige’s charge isn’t necessarily a bad way to introduce her into the show, but roughly everything else was. the costume (and the implication she bought it from saks fifth avenue??? she’s a college student????) the fact she would keep saying quippy one liners to demons that literally would not talk back making it feel incredibly awkward/cringy the fact that she was like an ass to paige and an insufferable know it all like. i get how these could be the personality traits of a fun character (like almost all of these are traits iron man has and his character essentially singlehandedly launched the mcu) but again having a know it all from a mentor’s perspective isn’t likable. having her in that lil costume doesn’t really match the tone of the show that’s been set so far. and her absolute abhorrence for studying and need to go kick demons ass for a buzz like. it wasn’t the character they should have given us. and here’s the thing: billie wasn’t all bad. she was incredibly smart and she was basically the first character we saw to combine magic and modern tech. this could have been incredibly interesting and y’know maybe the show would adopt it moving forward but like even when we first see her use it she’s basically showing paige “i know more than you” but we’re inclined to align with paige bc she’s a lead character who we’ve grown with. but like. paige couldn’t come up with that. that had a lot of room to do right with billie, but they really did wrong at almost every turn.

so if i were to reconfigure billie to in turn reconfigure s8, i would first start with her personality. as she’s clearly going to be the mentee to the charmed ones, the cocky know it all is a no go. instead, i might put her on a path closer to s1 piper, in which she has powers that she just knows nothing about and is worried she’s evil this that and the other but through the charmed ones she learns how to focus and hone her power while also gaining some of their confidence & sisterhood and all that. basically, working with the charmed ones, not against them. another thing that just sorta bugs me on a lore level is billie just sorta got her powers at age 20 like they were laying dormant before this but like?? it’s very much beem established young witches have powers, it’s not like a puberty thing or whatever and i really don’t think there would be any reason for them to grow into her life unprompted. workarounds for this could either be a) she was put up for adoption and was encouraged to supress her magic bc she could potential hurt others / be seen as a freak or b) some specific traumatic incident unlocked a hidden power (grishaverse think the first time alina realized she had her powers was when she was being attacked by the volcra in absolute darkness idk maybe one of them snatched mal the point is it was a moment of raw desperation in an environment best suited to unlock her powers). something like that some quasi life or death fight i can’t think of a good reason for that to happen to an average college student off the top of my head but like y’know finding hidden power that whole trope. the third option, aka my wildcard, is that the elders regift the twiceblessed destiny right then & there, and the new billie is also the new twice blessed (fully giving her the magic credentials to carry her own show imo)

building on billie’s intro, she gets acquainted with the charmed in like no earnest fashion. they are both using each other plain and simple this is acknowledged. the girls are using her to fight demons for them, she’s using them to properly teach her the craft. once again, it doesn’t really foster the relationship i feel like we would want to see from the new lead with the old lead. if i were writing this, i would have them take billie under their wing and teach her the craft, but billie being th smart cookie she is y’know does the reading and puts two and two together and is like “are you guys the charmed ones?” and by this time the girls genuinely trust billie enough to tell her the truth. it’s not a bargaining chip.

then. okay. you know how you can repress memories? like if something happened to you that was So Traumatic you can genuinely just forget that shit ever happened completely wipe it from your mind? okay. so like billie doesn’t like halloween. and paige is like you’re a college student how can you not like halloween and billie’s like idk i don’t like it. so maybe she holes herself up in the attic or whatever bc she really doesn’t want to acknowelge the holiday and phoebe’s like oh this is so my division y’know advice all that the point is she’s talking to billie and blah blah blah and she has a premoniton. and she sees christy being kidnapped and a young billie terrified this that and the other and phoebe’s like oh my god that’s why you don’t like halloween and billie’s like what? and phoebe’s like that girl? she was taken?? and billie’s like no idk who that is and phoebe like i think he name was christy and then something in billie just cracks and the memory shoots up to the surface blah blah blah

and then once again instead of really shutting the sisters out and going on some vendetta or whatever we really see the sister sorta help billie through this once again strengthening the bond between the leads we know and love and billie bc if they all love billie i feel like we are much more inclined to like her than if billie just bugs the shit outta them.

blah blah blah i’m not bringing the triad back i’m not bringing christy back until like probs the finale or the penultimate episode the main villain i think would maybe just be like a warlock faction like the underworld’s been so pummelled no triad no source zankou’s gone the avatars wiped out a fuckton of them the charmed ones wiped out even more so if you were gonna make a move for the throne the time would be now. also be we got too many demons we need more warlocks.

also, in regards to christy, having her be raised by demons is really too morally dubious like again there’s just like this debate is christy actually evil or does she just have a really warped sense of right and wrong this new christy would have escaped from them young and begun this new rough and tumble life on the road training herself becoming powerful and honestly would probably end up more like canon!billie but uhh she has the skills to back it up. with then the dynamic becoming christy, as the eldest sister and the one who’s survived on her own for years always wants to do things herself bc a) she doesn’t want billie to get hurt and b) really was an insanely low life expectancy for herself and y’know billie’s in college and could potentially have a normal life whereas christy believes herself to be too far gone and then have billie really try to be there like yes you were alone but that doesn’t mean you always have to be and sorta the softness & sisterhood we would have seen with her and the charmed ones would really carry over into her own show as she and christy really work to y’know build that bridge

#i like keep calling her billie but know she would be nothing like the canon #nor would christy i would really have christy be likesuper short hair always in a baseball cap flannel no makeup #in comparison to the very soft & feminine billie #which i also feel like its sorta like y'know name play irony lowkey #which i really love using #💌 #charmed #billie jenkins #christy jenkins #margaretsminiessays

[big-idiot-wolf-boys]

Nightfall: Twilight Reimagined -2-

-1-

Still feeling very much like canon here, and very much the day to day life of Bella Swan. Check out my fancast here if you want to know what I’m imagining these characters to look like as I’m writing them!

                                                          ****

    The next day wasn’t much worse than the first, I guess that had to count for something. The second day of school is easier than the first because you know what to expect. Like Mike sitting next to me in English and then escorting me to my next class. Eric glared at Mike the whole time. Thankfully, everyone outside of the group I had somehow been adopted into seemed to have forgotten about me already.

   The rain appeared to be gone for now, but the clouds were dark and dense-- it could always decide to make a comeback.

  We had a surprise test in Trig, and I didn’t even know the formulas we were supposed to be using. I made a mental note to hide my grades from Charlie, I couldn't manage to do much more than basic algebra. In Spanish, Jessica and I were paired together to translate recipes from Spanish to English. All morning, I worried about lunch. Not where to sit or what to eat; I was worried about having to endure those strange, hateful glares from Edward Cullen. If it were anyone else, I’d just ask what his damage was. Something about the Cullens struck me as strange, though. I remembered Edward’s coal-black eyes and shuddered.

    It turned out that I had nothing to worry about. When Jessica and I entered the cafeteria, Edward was nowhere in sight. A quick scan of the room proved the rest of the Cullen siblings were sitting at their usual table, but he was not with them.

   Mike spotted us and bounded up to lead us to the table. Jessica was thrilled, and the others from yesterday quickly joined us. Today, I picked up some of the names I hadn’t yesterday. Lauren, Tyler, and Ben rounded out this loose collective of friends. Lauren had long blonde hair, pale skin, and pretty green eyes. She hadn't spoken to me much, and I tried not to take it personally. Tyler was tall and athletic-looking, with dark skin, his hair and eyes were a matching brown. Ben was the shortest of the group, he had golden-brown skin and black hair that he wore with bangs swooped to one side, landing just above his glasses. I tried to focus on the conversations going on around me but my thoughts kept wandering back to Edward. I was dreading the moment he entered the room and turned his angry gaze on me.

   My anxiety only grew while I waited. My appetite never appeared, my muscles were tense, and my knee was shaking so much that the chair under me squeaked in protest. He never appeared, rendering all my anxious energy useless.

   After lunch came Biology. I approached the door with dread coiling in my stomach. Maybe he'd decided to get lunch somewhere else in town, which meant he would still be in class. I hesitated outside for as long as I dared, but the warning bell sounded. Classes were starting.

   Edward wasn’t in his seat when I entered, and the dread faded. Until about halfway through class when the realization hit me, it had merely transformed into a messy combination of guilt and irritation.

   How could I have pushed Edward away before I even had a chance to speak to him? How could he hate me so much he’d skip school to avoid me?

   I told myself repeatedly that  I couldn’t possibly be the problem. After all, Edward didn’t even know me. Still, the voice in the back of my mind that said it was all my fault just wouldn’t go away.

   The day took a turn towards terrible when we had soccer in gym. I tripped over my own feet several times, fell in the mud, scraped my palms, and even misaimed a kick so much that the ball hit one of my classmates in the face. After that, the teacher told me to stand in the corner of the field and watch. When school finally let out, I practically ran to my truck. I slammed the door in my hurry to get inside and cringed over it. Then I turned the key and put the heater on high, waiting for the warm air to come rushing out of the vents.

   I backed out of my space and into the line of people waiting to exit the parking lot. As I waited for my turn to leave, I saw the Cullens and the Hale twins getting into their car. A shiny Ford. Of course. Previously, I’d been too dazzled by the Cullens’ supernatural beauty to notice their clothing, but now it was obvious they came from money. I felt a brief stab of jealousy. It wasn’t enough that they were so pretty, they had to be well off, too?

   I yanked my gaze away from them but I could feel the group stare at me as I drove past them. Did they share the theory that I drove Edward away?

   This morning, Charlie had asked me to pick up a few things from the grocery store after school. It was only a few minutes away- but so was everything else. The bright lights and stocked shelves reminded me of doing the shopping back home. I fell into the familiar pattern with ease. It was practically second nature how I ghosted through the aisles, keeping track of Charlie's budget in my head.

   When I got back to the house, I shoved the groceries wherever they could fit and began to prep dinner. All it took was tossing some steaks in a marinade and throwing some potatoes in the oven. This was a meal that I knew Charlie would approve of, and the perfect way to introduce him to the idea of me doing the cooking.

   When I finished the prep, I took my backpack upstairs and threw on a pair of pjs, tying my hair up afterward. Glancing at my school bag again, I sighed. Most of the homework I’d been assigned today was covering things I’d already done back home-- and I wasn’t looking forward to repeating it.

    Instead, I put the effort into checking my email for the first time since my arrival. Charlie still had dial-up, and the laptop beeped and screeched at me as it connected. Renee had signed us both up for a service called NetMail through AOL so we could stay in touch through e-mail.

   Three unopened messages.

    Bella,

      Write to me as soon as you get time. I want to know everything about your flight! How is Charlie doing? Is it raining there? I’m sure it is.

      I miss you already. I’m almost finished packing for Florida, but I can’t find that pink floral shirt. Do you know where I put it?

      Phil says hi and good luck at school tomorrow. We love you!

      Mom

    That was sent about three hours into my five-hour flight to Seattle. I sighed and clicked the next one. It was sent eight hours after the first.

    Bella,

      Why haven’t you emailed me back? I’m waiting to hear from you.

      Mom

    The newest email was from this morning.

    Isabella Swan, if I haven’t heard from you by 5:30 pm, I will call Charlie.  

  My mom and I had always gotten along well, but Renee had leaned on me for a lot. I was sure that she was spiraling already. I glanced at the clock in the corner of the screen. There was still an hour until mom’s deadline, but I had a feeling she would get antsy and call early.

    Mom,

      Everything is   fine.    Don’t worry. I was just waiting for something to write about.

      Bella.

    Send.

   Now that the danger of my mother interrupting Charlie’s workday was out of the way, I began a second email.

    Mom,

      Your blouse is at the dry cleaners, you were supposed to pick it up after dropping me off at the airport.  

      Of course it’s raining. I have to slosh through puddles to get to every single class I have. Speaking of, school is fine. Repetitive.   I’ve already done most of what we’re covering. Easy graduation credits, I guess!

      Charlie bought me a truck! I couldn’t believe it. It’s this old, sturdy thing. Which is good. You know. For me. I love it.

      I miss you too. I can’t check my email every five minutes, though. Breathe. It’ll be okay. I’ll write again when I have something interesting to talk about, I promise. I love you.

      Bella

    The novel we were studying in English was Wuthering Heights, which happened to be one of my favorites. My copy of the book was a well-worn hardback, the edges of the cover softened with age. It was easy to sink into the familiar fictional world; by the time Lockwood was having his first nightmare, the sounds of the world around me had blurred and faded into the background.

   “Bella?” My dad’s voice rumbled downstairs.

  Oh, crap, I had forgotten all about dinner! After hastily shoving a bookmark into place, the book was tossed onto my pillow. I rushed downstairs, tripping over my own feet at the bottom step, but Charlie was there to catch me by the shoulders.

   “Where’s the fire?” He asked, amusement twinkling in his eyes.

  “I forgot about dinner,” I explained sheepishly, leading the way to the kitchen to pull the potatoes out of the oven. I put the steak in to broil before turning around to look at Charlie with an apologetic smile. “I wanted to have it ready for when you got home.”

   “Bells, you don’t have to do that.” He said with a small frown. He must think I had the same bizarre food tastes as Renee. Her experiments in the kitchen often ended up in the trash, completely inedible.

    “It’s just steak and potatoes.” I shrugged dismissively, fluttering one hand. To balance out my mom’s wacky dinners, I had learned how to fend for myself and make it taste pretty good, too.

   “That’s not what I meant,” Charlie said, hanging his jacket on the back of his chair at the table.

  “What did you mean?” He set the table while I pulled the food out of the oven. I caught him sniffing appreciatively at the air.

   “I  mean,  I should be the one cooking dinner, not the other way around.” There was an unspoken  duh. As if nothing in the world made more sense than for Charlie to cook dinner for us. My throat tightened a little and my eyes watered. I turned to get myself a glass of water so I could collect myself without him seeing how something so simple had affected me.

   “Oh.”

   Charlie sat at the table, and I sat across from him.

  “It smells good, though. Thanks, Bell.”  He smiled warmly at me and I noticed how his eyes were beginning to crinkle at the corners. He was beginning to show signs of age now; lines in his face, salt and pepper flecked his scruff.

   We ate in silence for a while, which was more than fine by me. Charlie and I were quiet people and though I had misjudged my role here, we were good housemates.

   “How was school?” He asked, interrupting my thoughts, “Make any friends yet?”

  “Well…” I tapped some pepper onto my potatoes to stall for time. “Everyone’s really nice. I sit with a group of people at lunch, but I don’t know if I’d say we’re friends yet.”

   “Sitting with people at lunch is a good way to start making friends,” Charlie encouraged me. Was it that obvious how worried I was about being the new kid? And the reaction I’d gotten from certain classmates…

   “Do you know the Cullen family?” I asked suddenly, curiosity overtaking me before I could stop it.

   “Dr. Cullen’s family? Sure.”

   “The kids don’t seem to fit in.” I decided not to worry Charlie with Edward’s reaction to me.

  “Dr. Cullen has been a huge help to the community, you know,” Charlie said, more strongly than before. “We’re lucky to have him. He could have his pick of jobs all over the place. His wife wanted a small-town life, though. Sure, I was worried when they moved here with all those kids, but I haven't had one ounce of trouble from them.” He was really gathering steam now. “But just because they’re new to town and a little different, people just have to gossip about them.”

   I rethought my approach.

  “I just meant that they sort of stick to themselves.” I tucked my hair behind my ear before continuing. “They all seem pretty smart.” Or just pretty.

   Charlie shrugged one shoulder. “Guess there’s not much you can do in a town like this. People decided they were outsiders, so why should they try to make friends? Maybe you’ll have something in common with one of them.”

   I didn’t answer him, too busy thinking about what he’d said. We finished eating in silence, and he cleared the table before I had a chance to. I stood next to the table, feeling a little useless.

   “You don’t have to take care of me, you know,” I said, nodding to the pile of dirty dishes that Charlie had just finished stacking next to the sink.

   “That’s my job, Bells.” He kissed my forehead before retiring to the living room to put on the game of the night. I blinked quickly to counter the sudden wetness that sprung up in the corners of my eyes.

   Determined to help out around the house somehow, I turned back to the dishes. Charlie might want to take care of me, but that didn’t mean I had to be a freeloader. I washed the dishes by hand, and set them in the rack to dry. With no other preoccupations, there was nothing left to do but trudge upstairs to work on my math homework

   When I finally tumbled into bed, exhausted, I slept dreamlessly.

  The rest of the week flew by in an uneventful blur. I learned where all my classes were and how to get to them the fastest. I was also able to place most of my classmate’s names to their faces- and they knew not to pick me in gym class. Jessica was still happily chatting my ear off at every opportunity, and when I needed a reprieve from that- Angela Weber was there to quietly discuss Wuthering Heights.

   Edward Cullen didn’t return to school.

  The whole week, I shared my first class of the day with Rosalie, but I could never gather the courage to speak to her and ask what her brother’s problem was, or if he was coming back. Every day, I watched their table to confirm that he wasn’t there, then I could relax. Recently, Mike had really been pushing the idea of a weekend beach trip, and Jess and Angela always made sure to mention that I was welcome to come. I agreed to go, mostly out of a want to get to know my new friends. Whatever they called a beach here would only fall short of my expectations. By Friday, I confidently walked into Biology with the knowledge that Edward wouldn’t be there with his strange, hateful stare.

  My first weekend in Forks was, predictably, boring. Charlie, who had been working weekends for the last fifteen years, spent most of his time at the Sheriff’s Office. I spent my time cleaning the house, reading ahead for English class, and emailing with my mom.

   On Saturday, I went to the Forks Public Library but I was disappointed by their selection, and didn’t even bother to get a card. I looked at the local stores to see what their small selections had, but no dice. It seemed I was going to have to make a trip out of town if I wanted any new reading material. Would my truck be okay on the freeway?

   Thankfully, the rain remained a soft pattering and didn’t hinder my sleep too much.

  On Monday morning, people smiled and waved at me in the parking lot. I waved back, even at the people whose names escaped me. It was cold this morning, but the rain had taken a hiatus.

   In English, Mike sat next to me, reliable as ever. We had a surprise quiz on Wuthering Heights, no doubt I would get an excellent grade on it. I was more confident and comfortable in Forks High School than I had expected even a week ago. More comfortable than I had  ever expected to be in Forks.

  When English ended, the class streamed outside… and into a flurry of white tufts in the air. I could hear teenagers yelling gleefully from every direction. My nose twinged in the cold.

   “Snow!” Mike grinned.

   I shoved my hands into my pockets, surveying the sidewalk for ice. “Ew.” I wrinkled my nose.

   “You don’t like snow?” Mike asked, his gleeful look dampening significantly.

  “I guess it’s better than rain.” I conceded. “But I thought it was supposed to be prettier than this. Distinct flakes or whatever.”

   Mike looked at me with all the disbelief he could muster. “You’ve never  seen snow?”

   “Well, yeah. On TV.” I said defensively.

  Mike laughed, but the sound was cut short by a ball of slush hitting him in the back of the head. I anxiously looked in the direction it had come from, ready to use my backpack as a shield. Eric had his back to us, walking in the wrong direction for his next class. Mike knelt down to scoop up his own ball of mush.

   “You know what, I’ll just see you at lunch,” I said hurriedly, beginning to make my way towards the school. “Once people start throwing things, I get out of range.” I shot him an apologetic smile, but his eyes were trained on Eric’s back.

  The only thing anyone wanted to talk about was the snow’s sudden arrival. I bit my tongue, to not ruin everyone else’s excitement. It seemed like I was the only one who wasn’t fond of the cold, wet weather.

  When it came time for lunch, I hurried to the cafeteria with Jess. Snowballs were flying left and right, though they didn’t really stick together well enough to be qualified as a ball. Jessica thought that I was being dramatic about the whole thing, but she was nice enough to not pull me into the brief snowball fight between herself, Mike, Eric, Ben.

   The fight only lasted from building 3 to building 1, where the cafeteria was. Mike opened the door for us. They argued about who had won as we waited in line to pay for our food. Nothing but habit brought my eyes to the table that the four Cullens occupied every day. Only today there were five of them. I froze where I stood. It would be better to be back out in the snow.

   Jess tapped on my shoulder. “Earth to Bella! Hello?”

  I looked down, feeling the heat from my cheeks up to the tips of my ears when I blushed. There was nothing to be embarrassed about, though, I firmly reminded myself.

   “Are you alright?” Mike asked, leaning over Jessica’s shoulder to look at me.

  “I’m fine,” I mumbled, tucking my hair back. I carelessly tossed an apple and milk crate onto my tray and followed my friends.

   “Are you sure you feel okay?” Ben pressed.

  “Actually, I feel kind of sick,” I admitted, sitting next to Jess and keeping my eyes down. Twice more during lunch, someone asked how I was feeling. For a fleeting moment, I considered playing it up so I could skip my next class. Biology with Edward. I almost shuddered at the thought but reminded myself that I’d done nothing wrong. Edward was the one with the problem. I steeled myself and looked at the Cullen’s table. If he still looked at me like I was some kind of loathsome monster, maybe I  would skip.

   At the end of the table, Mike laughed boisterously at something; this was my excuse to look in that direction, and then peer past him to the table where the otherworldly family was sitting. None of them looked at me. I sat up straighter. They were joking and laughing with each other. They appeared to have snow in their hair, though it was melting rapidly under the school’s heating system. Rosalie and Edward were leaning away as Jasper shook his head like a dog- causing icy water to fly at them. They were just enjoying the snow like everyone else, only they looked like movie stars.

   Besides how loud and happy they were compared to last week, there was something else that was amiss about the scene. I found myself staring at them individually as I tried to figure it out. I was the most familiar with Rosalie, since we shared a class, so I started with her. She looked the same as ever: stunningly beautiful. The others looked the same as always too, maybe the scene had seemed off because Edward had returned.

   I looked at him with the most attention. He was flushed, for one. Maybe from laughter, or the cold. It looked like he had finally gotten a good night’s sleep, the bags under his eyes were much less pronounced. There was still something, though…

   “Bella, what  are you staring at?” Jess asked me, pushier than usual. How long had I been spacing out?

   Her eyes followed my gaze.

  Edward looked our way as if we had called out to him, even though we were all the way across the room. I looked away quickly, but not quickly enough. Our eyes met for just a second. He wasn’t wearing that angry expression from last week, he looked curious again.

   What was this guy’s deal? Why couldn’t he make up his mind?

   “Edward Cullen is staring at you.” She said in a hushed voice.

  “Really?” I squeaked. “I don’t think he likes me.” I felt queasy, and offered to trade Eric my milk for his water bottle. He accepted and I took a large gulp of the refreshing liquid as soon as he passed it over.

   “It’s okay, Bella.” She said comfortingly. “The Cullen’s don’t usually like anyone. But he’s still looking at you.”

   “Stop looking!” I hissed.

   She giggled, but looked away. I took a smaller sip of water, focusing with all my might on not looking at the Cullens.

  Mike spoke up then, and I had never been more thankful for his interruption. He was planning a snowball fight after school, and announced it loud enough for everyone to hear. Jessica agreed enthusiastically, but I was starting to think she would agree to do anything as long as Mike was involved. I decidedly didn’t speak up, and began to plot where to hide until the fight was over and I could safely make it to my truck.

   When the bell rang, I made my way to the door quickly-- hoping to avoid walking to class with Mike, who seemed to be a large target for snowballs. But he and my other friends caught up to me in two long strides. When we got to the door, everyone groaned. The snow had pretty much stopped coming down, and what little snow had stuck to the ground was muddy and gross. I hid my pleased smile and tested the iciness of the sidewalk. As good a grip as any other day. Well, on a good day for me. Mike complained about the snow’s disappearance until we got to the door of the biology classroom.

  I was relieved to see my table was empty and rushed to it as if getting there first allowed me some kind of claim on the space. Of course, this wasn’t the case, but it made me feel better nonetheless.  I had been here all last week, after all.

  Mrs. Ramone began to hand out microscopes and slides, and my classmates chattered quietly among themselves. I doodled on the cover of my notebook, sketching out the sparrow I could see from the window next to my table.

   The chair next to me was pulled out with an unsettling screech, but I very carefully kept my eyes averted from my tablemate.

   “Hello,” Said a quiet, musical voice.

  This was the first time one of the Cullens had spoken directly to me, and something about the windchime quality of Edward's voice sent a shock through me. I sat rigidly and whipped my head around to face him.

  He was sitting at the furthest end of the desk, like last week, but his chair was turned so that he was facing me. It almost seemed casual but something was jarring about the whole thing. He seemed unnatural somehow, like he didn’t belong here. His expression was friendlier than I expected, a polite smile gracing his features, but his eyes were guarded.

   “I’m sure you’ve already gathered by now, but I’m Edward Cullen,” He continued, “And you’re Bella Swan, right?”

   My mind swam. Had I completely imagined Edward’s hostility? He was friendly now, if a little strange.

   “Why did you call me Bella?” I blurted.

   “Oh, is Bella for friends only? I just-” Edward faltered.

  “No, I prefer Bella. Everyone called me Isabella when I first got here… I guess Charlie- I mean, my dad- must call me that when I’m not around.” I explained, feeling even more out of my element than usual. I felt tongue-tied in front of this strange guy.

   Thankfully, Ms. Romane clapped her hands together to gather our attention. I was incredibly grateful for being saved from any more embarrassing small talk. Today, we were going to be identifying and sorting cells into the phases of mitosis without looking at our books. The teacher would be making rounds at the end of class to see who got it right.

   “Let’s get going everyone!” She clapped her hands together again.

  “Shall we?” Edward asked, smiling crookedly as he pushed the microscope towards me. I was once again struck by his dazzling beauty-- until his smile began to fade. “Or I can start,” He added. Shoot, I must have waited too long to answer him.

   “I can do it.” I shook my head a little to clear it from the fuzz that had momentarily clouded my mind. I hoped I wasn’t blushing.

   Okay, maybe I wanted to show off a little. My previous school had been more advanced than Forks High, and I had already done this before. It was easy. I slid the little glass slide into place and adjusted the microscope until it was properly focused. It only took me a few seconds for me to assess the slide.

   “Prophase.”

  I started to remove the slide, but Edward reached out to stop me. “Mind if I look?” His hand was freezing, as if he had just come in from playing with the snow. I couldn’t help but gasp and pull my hand away. Besides being cold, it was as though he had shocked me. I tried to chalk it up to static electricity he took the microscope.

   Curiously, I watched him examine the slide. He had barely looked at the thing before writing  prophase gracefully on our worksheet. He switched out the slides and glanced at the second one just as quickly as the first.

   “Anaphase,” He said, writing it down as he spoke.

   “Mind if I check?” I asked, sounding more courageous than I felt.

  Edward pushed the microscope my way, this time avoiding any contact between us. I tried to look as quickly as possible. I was disappointed, he was right.

   “The next one?” I asked, my competitive nature peeking out. He handed it to me, still careful to not let our skin touch.

   “Interphase,” I announced. He took the microscope from me with an amused smile.

  Despite our competition, we were the first team finished. Mike and his partner, a girl named Ali, were comparing two slides repeatedly. Another group seemed to have broken a slide and were trying to tape it back together. I tried to hide my own amused smile at that. Unfortunately, finishing first meant that we had nothing to do but wait for the end of class. I tried not to look at him, but that didn’t last long.

    When I glanced up, Edward was looking at me with intensity. Frustrated again, like he was trying to remember something. Suddenly, it clicked in my brain. Why his family looked so different.

   “Are you wearing contacts?” I asked. Oops. I hope that wasn’t being rude.

   Edward blinked in surprise. “No,” The way he said it, with a lilt towards the end, made it sound like a question.

   “Oh.” I mumbled. “I just thought there was something different about your eyes.”

   He shrugged. “They are kind of a weird color, right? I think it’s genetic.”

  I was sure that it was something other than a mutated brown color, though. I could distinctly remember the black color of his eyes the first time I had seen him. The stark contrast between his hateful stare and the pallor of his face. Only today, his eyes weren’t black. They were a dark butterscotch color, the golden tone that shone in them complimented his bronze hair. I couldn’t make sense of how that could be. Unless he was lying about the contacts. Maybe I had just imagined the darkness of his eyes in my anxiety.

   I glanced down. Edward’s hands were clenched into fists. Only for a moment. Then they smoothed out and he smiled at me. I almost forgot to be suspicious of him.

   Ms. Ramone came to check our work. She squinted at the paper then frowned at Edward. “You didn’t share with your partner, Edward?” She asked, looking at the worksheet holding only Edward’s elegant handwriting on it.

   “Bella actually identified three out of five of the slides, Ms. Ramone,” Edward said with a charming smile.

   She turned to me then. “Well done, Bella. Have you taken this class before?”

   “Not with onion root,” I admitted with a sheepish smile.

   “Whitefish?”

   “Yeah.”

   She nodded. “Were you an advanced placement student in your last school?”

   “Only in science and English.” I couldn’t help being a little proud.

  “I suppose it’s good that you and Edward are partnered, then.” She said with a small chuckle, moving on to check Mike and Ali’s work. I began to doodle on my notebook again, filling in little details to my drawing from before.

   “Too bad about the snow, huh?” Edward asked, his musical voice jarring me out of my thoughts. I hated small talk, and I had the feeling he was only forcing himself to be polite to me, anyway.

   “Not really.” I mumbled, past bothering to hide my irritation with the weather.

   “You don’t like the cold?”

   “Or the wet.”

   “It doesn’t sound like Forks is your kind of place, then.” He said, thoughtfully.

   “You have no idea,” I grumbled, glancing at the window and privately shooing the clouds away.

   He looked like I had said something incredibly profound. I impossibly tried not to be distracted by his expression.

  “So why’d you move here?” His voice was pure curiosity. He didn’t want to know because I was the shiny new toy, gossip for his friends. He seemed genuinely interested and no one had bothered to ask me that yet, especially so pointedly. It took me by surprise.

   “Um.”

   “You don’t have to tell me.” It looked like he couldn’t bear not knowing.

   I hesitated, but met his eyes. His golden gaze captivated me, and I blurted out an answer without even thinking about it.

   “My mom got married.”

   “Oh, and you didn’t like the guy?”

   “No, Phil’s great. Really.”

  “So why didn’t you stay with them?” Edward’s voice was still burning with curiosity, but there was an underlying kindness to it.

    It didn’t make any sense why he was so interested. He was staring at me like I was holding the answers to the universe. If he was always this intense, it was going to give me whiplash the next time he decided that he was going to be hostile.

   “Phil’s a minor league baseball player, so he travels a lot.” I smiled, remembering piling into his van with my mom to travel with them. It had been fun, for a while.

   “Is he famous?” Edward asked in a light tone.

   “I don’t think you’ll have heard of him.”

  “So your mother sent you here so that she could travel with her new husband?” Edward tried to untangle the threads of my story.

   I shook my head, almost insulted. “No,” I said indignantly, “I sent myself.”

   His brows furrowed. “I don’t get it.”

   I sighed. Why was I explaining this to him anyway?  Why did he care?

  “Well. She stayed home with me for a while, but she missed him. It made her unhappy, that didn’t work. So the three of us traveled together for a while. That was fun, but it wasn’t…” I struggled to find the right word, “Stable. So I decided that it was time that I came to be with my dad.” I tried not to sound glum about being stuck in Forks because the truth was that I really  was glad to spend time with Charlie. I just wished we got to spend time together somewhere else.

   “But you’re not happy.” He said simply.

   “So?” I raised an eyebrow.

   “It’s not fair,” He shrugged, but their eyes hadn’t lost their intensity. “It sucks.”

   “Why’s it matter to you anyway?” I demanded, resisting the urge to childishly stick my tongue out at him.

  “Good question.” He muttered, mostly to himself. That seemed like the only answer I was going to get. This was confirmed by Ms. Ramone interrupting us by calling for the class’s attention. I couldn’t understand how this bizarre, beautiful boy had gotten me to reveal more about my life to him than any of my new friends had. And there was still the mystery of whether or not he hated me. He had seemed friendly enough during our conversation, but I could see him leaning away from me now, hands curled into fists again.

   I tried to at least look like I was paying attention to Ms. Ramone’s debriefing.

   When the bell  finally rang, Edward swiftly took his leave. He moved gracefully, like a large cat on the prowl. I stared after him in amazement and Mike took this as an opportunity to hop to my side.

   “That sucked!” He groaned. “I couldn’t tell any of ‘em apart. You’re lucky you had Cullen to do it for you.”

  “I identified half of ours,” I snapped at Mike, stung by his comment and frustrated by Edward. Immediately, I regretted taking out my strange mood on him. It didn’t seem to dull Mike’s mood much.

   “Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.” He said, holding his hands up in surrender.

  He changed the subject to the beach trip, lamenting that the snow from earlier indicated that it was still too cold to go. His chattering just couldn’t hold my attention as we walked to gym.  He was on my team today, and graciously let me sit out. I still managed to catch my toe on the lip of the doorway and almost tripped on my way out after class.

    A mist was gathering in the parking lot as I made my way to my truck. I idly thought about giving it a name, if it had enough personality to warrant giving it one. Time would tell on that. As per my new routine, I hopped into the cab and turned the heater on high. My cold hands warmed in front of the vents before fluffing up my damp hair so it would dry out on the short drive home.

   Before backing up, I looked around to make sure no one was behind me. I noticed a still, pale figure in my mirror and realized it was Edward Cullen. He was leaning against his Ford, staring right at me. My heart jolted in my chest, causing my foot to jump off the clutch too fast-- the engine stalled. I groaned and rolled my eyes. Turning the engine over again and cautiously pulling out, I stared ahead as I drove. As I passed, I could swear Edward was laughing at me.

#god im sorry the formatting isnt consistent #fuckin tumblr yknow? #anyway heres chapter two #Nightfall: Twilight Reimagined #twilight fic #twilight fanfiction #twilight fanfic #twilight #twilight renaissance #twilight revamped #twilightenment #twilight revival #bella swan #edward cullen #jessica stanley #angela weber #mike newton #new moon #eclipse #twilight saga #my post #my works

[thenightling]

Weird dream I had during a nap

I laid down for a nap tonight and I had a very weird period dream.   Some of you may know that when you have a dream on your period they can be very strange and also very detailed.   The film The Company of Wolves is inspired by this revelation.

Anyway, the dream felt a bit like a fairy tale and I’m going to try to write out every detail as best as I can.

I dreamt I was traveling with some friends, one of which was my own cousin, Nicole.  In real life I haven’t seen Nicole in many years, probably not since 2006 or so.  This version of Nicole was more a combination of my cousin and a former friend of mine, an Asian woman who lives in Boston.  In fact I believe this Nicole was more based on her than my actual cousin.

Anyway, we were traveling, on some sort of modified bus, like a hippie caravan bus.  And we somehow ended up in some American suburb.  (We’re all American but I felt the need to note this for how strange the dream gets.)

Somehow we ended up at this very nice, large, suburban house (Not a mansion, just a large house) but it was actually owned by a faery, or more precisely a “Tree Elf.” He seemed very proud of this distinction.  We didn’t meet him immediately.  We met his “children.”   Now in this suburb it was slightly after dusk, Twilight.  The sky was dim.   And when I woke up I remembered this detail because that’s how Neil Gaiman describes the sky in the realm of Faerie.   

Anyway, the children were human (or former human) who “belonged” to this Tree Elf.  He had collected them over the centuries and they were all still quite young looking and behaved it too, for the most part.   We met them first.  And they showed us into his house.  The house was a Smart House with a feminine A. I.

And I forget what we needed but we needed some things and The Tree Elf (who had a name but I lost it somewhere in the dream.  In fact near the end of the dream he had deliberately made me forget his name.  I think it started with an R but by the end I was calling him Mister E.  Get it? Mystery.  But not like the DC Comics character of the same name, who I kind of hate.  Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if he turned out to be the folkloric Rumplestiltskin.

Anyway, he came to my companions and myself one at a time.  I’m pretty sure one of my companions was my friend Lorie and a boy who was likely my little brother, Jeff.  There were a few others.  We were all portrayed as a bit younger than our real ages in this dream.  Jeff, especially, was a teenager again (He’s in his thirties, only six-years younger than myself and I’m thirty-eight.). 

Apparently Mister E. was very interested in Nicole because she was working for Disney (Disney theme parks).  Note: My cousin never worked for Disney in her life. But my former friend had, this is partly why I think the dream character was more based on her.   Mister E. listed off all these famous corporate figures he had dealings with but never Walt Disney.  He kept confusing the Disney company with Walt Disney himself.   I don’t think he even realized Walt Disney was dead.  

But here, let me describe Mister E. When he appeared in the dream he was small of build, but not inhumanly so.  He was just a little short, and thin.  He had shaggy, curly black hair.  Not at all what I’d imagine for Rumplestiltskin. He looked a bit like a Goth nerd.  

What he ultimately wanted from Nicole was her collection of vintage video games she had on data discs or CD-Roms.    Though it was a Smart House and he had a large PC it had a large 1990s monitor and some of the “tech” was 1990s.  And at one point he palmed these games, each on a different colored CD disc.  By the way, my real-life cousin, Nicole, does NOT collect vintage video games.

Mister E.  had a small room with a large desktop PC (with an old but large looking monitor) that could just see down a small corridor after you go straight out of a dining room where some of his children were hanging out at a round wood dining table, with a lit electric chandelier over head.      

I remember, in the dream, being very creeped out by him.  Though he wasn’t cruel to his children at all (and they actually seemed happy to be with him and in his house) I felt like dealing with him was a very bad idea and three was a tension and hostility between myself and him.  

His children (which I know weren’t biologically his) were a diverse hodgepodge of of different ages, and one disturbing baby that I knew was far older than a real baby and far more intelligent and aware than a usual baby.     These children did not want to leave.  They liked where they were.  They did not want to be rescued even though I know they were claimed (they didn’t seem to like the word “owned” though that is technically correct) by him.       

 I managed to get everyone from my little group back on our caravan-bus and we were about to leave when we remembered our cats.  We wanted him and his supercomputer house (which I don’t think was even really a house but just looked like one, magically) to help with our cats.  Apparently they needed to be fixed and one of them had a mind illness that he could cure.

The caravan bus, by the way, was wide on the inside and had sofas instead of normal seating, and throw rugs on the floor. It was like a small apartment on the inside.

So begrudgingly I went back into the house and though there was some hostility between Mister E. and myself that stopped abruptly when he realized I was pregnant.  Yes, pregnant.  (I am not pregnant in real life, by the way.)   He tore open his own magical baby (that was like the youngest sibling from A Series of unfortunate events) with his own sharp, claw-like nails and pulled out some intestine to use in some sort of magical porridge potion that I knew was dark magick.  The magical immortal baby creature healed as if nothing had happened, the organs regenerating.   

And Mister E. gave me this whitish, chunky cold or room temperature chowder that used his magical baby’s intestines as an ingredient.  He insisted I eat it.  He seemed very concerned.  He said it would prevent miscarriages.  And for some reason, as horrible as the source of its ingredients were, I did eat it even though I felt like it had to be some kind of taboo.  I mean it was made with baby intestine.  Sure it was a magical immortal baby but still...

He seemed to warm up to me after that.  And yes, he allowed his A. I. to fix our cats (there were two of them, one white cat that I knew to be Isis, a cat I had that passed away in real life three years ago), and the other was a black and white one.  The odd thing is this is the second time I’ve had a dream about traveling with supernatural creatures, and having a black and white cat on the road with me.  Also, I have no idea who had been driving our bus caravan thing.  

 This is around the time he took away my memory of his name, which I feel started with an R (Rumpelstiltskin / Rumpelstilzchen?)  and I started to know him as Mister E.   He didn’t ask for anything for helping our cats though I felt like there was a price.