#I like that the reluctant bride was saved by her brother rather than her love-interest. That's a cute spin on the trope.

[ferhog]

Nothing quite says "I OBJECT!" like crashing the wedding in a freaking Gundam.

One of the great flaws of Witch From Mercury is that it didn't give us a scene like this.

#mobile suit gundam #gundam seed destiny #the witch from mercury #g witch #kira yamato #cagalli yula athha #I like that the reluctant bride was saved by her brother rather than her love-interest. That's a cute spin on the trope.

[robininthelabyrinth]

Initiative - aka NMJ and JYL get engaged - ao3 or tumblr pt 1, pt 2, pt 3

Nie Mingjue was always glad for an excuse to leave a boring political meeting, although he was surprised that Jiang Yanli had been bold enough to send a note requesting his immediate presence before they were married.

Certain jibes had been made at his expense by his fellow sect leaders, of course, but he had shrugged them off. Let them think him overly indulgent; what did he care? He enjoyed having someone to dote on when he had the chance, and anyway he didn’t think Jiang Yanli would ask him to come out so quickly over nothing – though it was interesting she asked for him to join her, rather than asking for her brother.

“Mistress Jiang?” he said, walking into the room in Jinlin Tower where she was waiting for him. Her posture was tense, her hands clutched together under her sleeves. “What’s the matter?”

“Do you know where the Wen sect survivors were sent?” she asked. “It’s a matter of – some urgency. If you don’t know, we’ll have to find out another way.”

We, he thought. Wei Wuxian, no doubt, since Jiang Cheng was still inside the hall, enduring the politics that came with any meeting between sects. And Wei Wuxian did not, generally speaking, have the best ways of figuring things out.

“The Jin sect has not shared that information publicly,” he said slowly, and saw her shoulders slump in disappointment. “But that does not mean I don’t know it. What is the issue?”

Jiang Yanli explained in a few sentences: a woman looking for a brother, a young man who had helped rescue Wei Wuxian during the war, a doctor’s assistant, who’d even gone so far as to poison his own people to save members of the Jiang sect and then spent the majority of the war in a prison, and yet now they thought he had been trapped in a prison camp, being abused…a young man surnamed Wen.

A young man called Wen Ning, or Wen Qionglin. It was not a name Nie Mingjue remembered.

But the one searching for Wen Ning was his sister, Wen Qing - and that was a name he did remember.

Wen Ruohan’s favorite nurse.

Nie Mingjue’s jaw clenched at the thought. He’d spent more than half his life avenging his family, and had always assumed the Wen sect would do the same if they were allowed to live; he had never stinted on hating all of them without exception, without quarter. Wen Ruohan was a murderer and a tyrant, and his family supported him with nary a word in protest until the tables had turned and it was their own lives at stake – was it not evil to support evil? Could Wen Ruohan have done as much as he did without Wen Qing’s medicines and treatments, without Wen Qionglin’s silent compliance? Did it really matter that they had been threatened, as so many other people had been threatened?

No. Duress could explain many things, but it never excused standing aside in the face of murder. Wen Qionglin and Wen Qing were, at best, accessories to a hundred crimes, and deserved exactly none of his sympathy.

And yet.

It was not them that was making a request of him.

Patient, calm, gentle. Forgiving. These were all traits he wanted in his bloodline, traits he lacked and knew he lacked. Traits that Jiang Yanli possessed: matching strength to weakness, weakness to strength.

Nie Mingjue did not love Jiang Yanli, not yet, but if he was not willing to even trust her, it was better not to marry at all.

“Very well,” he said, deciding. “Are they waiting outside? We will go at once. Huaisang will make my excuses.”

“…Huaisang will?”

“He’ll stutter and obfuscate and make a tolerable mess of it,” Nie Mingjue said, not without a mixture of exasperation and fondness – he knew his brother too well. “And as a result they won’t know where or why we’ve gone for at least another half a shichen, if not more.”

(Knowing Nie Huaisang, he might ‘accidentally’ end up implying that Nie Mingjue had gone to enjoy some afternoon delight with his soon-to-be bride, but Nie Mingjue was too polite to mention something like that to Jiang Yanli.)

Jiang Yanli nodded, and slipped her hand into his, squeezing briefly. “Thank you,” she said quietly. “I know what it all means to you.”

“I can only give you the benefit of the doubt,” he said, trying to be honest but probably coming off as harsh. “For the rest of it, I will decide when we are there.”

Wei Wuxian didn’t have his sword, as always these days, and Wen Qing, shivering behind him, had lost hers, but Nie Mingjue brought along four Nie sect cultivators and ordered two to act as escorts, with the other two trailing behind in the event of trouble. He rather liked Wei Wuxian, especially after that stunt he’d pulled in protest of the Jin sect’s little shooting ‘entertainment’, but demonic cultivation was dangerous and Wei Wuxian’s mentality was said to be unstable. Nie Mingjue had lost so many of his own already - he was taking no chances.

“How did you know where they’re located, Chifeng-zun?” Wei Wuxian asked from where he was balancing behind a long-suffering Nie Zonghui. “I wouldn’t have thought the Jin sect shared that information.”

“Are you not familiar with the concept of spies?” Nie Mingjue asked, voice dry. Jiang Yanli, in his arms, giggled – she’d planned to send them along without her, looking disappointed and worried and resigned, and she’d brightened like a flower exposed to the sun when he’d informed her that she was coming along with them. She was accustomed to being left behind, and he intended to change that.

Besides, they were only going to the Qiongqi Path, which was solidly in Jin territory, to a prisoner of war camp staffed by Jin cultivators. It was hardly a dangerous expedition, and he did not expect to encounter anything that might be a threat, excluding perhaps his own temper.

His temper did, in fact, make an appearance.

“Jin Guangshan swore to Lan Xichen that the Wen remnants would be resettled peacefully,” he snarled, eyes red with rage and Baxia in his hand as the Jin sect cultivators - which had been tormenting the civilians here and that had gotten into Wei Wuxian’s face when he’d charged over first to shout at them - cowered in front of him. They were willing to challenge Wei Wuxian, but it seemed that Nie Mingjue was a different story – bullying the weak and cowering before the strong. Pathetic! “I had not realized that our understanding of the word peaceful was so different. Clearly I will need to have words with Sect Leader Jin.”

A hand touched his arm, and he looked down, surprised; virtually no one approached him when he was in a rage.

Jiang Yanli stood beside him, looking up at him fearlessly. “As much as I’m sure you’d like to chop them into pieces, it’ll be more effective to present them as evidence,” she said, and even smiled, as if they were sharing a joke between the two of them. “We can save the chopping for later. Following the trial that I’m certain Sect Leader Jin will insist upon.”

The Jin cultivators paled, clearly realizing that the likelihood of Sect Leader Jin standing behind them rather than immediately making them scapegoats was very low. They would be much more likely to spill whatever secrets they might have now, knowing that their fates depended more on Nie Mingjue’s mercy than on Jin Guangshan’s, than they would have even in the face of his threats.

Baxia grumbled in reluctant approval, and all of a sudden Nie Mingjue could not wait for Jiang Yanli to have a saber of her own and to cultivate its spirit – he thought it would be a very fine spirit indeed.

“Very well,” he allowed, and put Baxia back on his back, noting but ignoring the respectful looks his cultivators were sending Jiang Yanli. It was nothing more than what ought to be, the proper role of a Nie furen: to incite when appropriate, to restrain when necessary. “Zonghui, return to Lanling and bring a larger force so that we can transport the Wen civilians to safety. And – there’s no need for subtlety.”

By which he meant that he wanted every cultivator who could fly their own sword to be tagging along out of curiosity, and Nie Zonghui knew it. He saluted and left at once.

“What do we do now, then?” Wei Wuxian asked, shifting from one foot to the other. He looked anxious and young, clearly startled by the abrupt lack of violence and worried about Wen Ning – the young man had some nasty injuries that hadn’t been treated by the Jin sect, his body tossed away like so much refuse, but they’d arrived early enough that his sister was avidly working to care for him. She had said that his chances were good, since they had arrived before his consciousness had slipped away.

If they’d arrived later…

If Nie Mingjue hadn’t had the information ready to hand from the spies he disliked using, if Wei Wuxian had had to get the information out of the Jin sect directly, if he had had to ride here from Lanling rather than fly a sword, if he’d gotten stuck in that thunderstorm that was rapidly heading their way…

Well, that hadn’t happened. There was no point in wondering what if.

“Now? Nothing. We wait. Nie Xizhe, Wu Shude, take some of the Wen civilians and have them help you tie up all the Jin sect cultivators; I don’t want anyone sneaking away, and there’s not enough of us to guard them while they’re free. Wei Wuxian, walk with me.” He glanced to his side. “With us, I mean.”

Wei Wuxian obediently trotted over to where Nie Mingjue and Jiang Yanli were waiting, and Nie Mingjue led the three of them over to a nearby ridge where they could have a little privacy. The storm was getting ever closer, he noticed.

“Very well,” he said finally. “It’s just us now. What debt do you owe the Wens?”

Wei Wuxian froze. “Debt? I don’t – I already said –”

“There’s something you’ve left out,” Nie Mingjue said. “The way you act with them…”

He didn’t know how to put it into words. It wasn’t merely chivalrous altruism, nor even friendship, that was driving Wei Wuxian – he was desperate to help, manic with the need to do something; there was something else there. Some secret. He knew, because Nie Mingjue knew secrets and what they did to a man, even if he was keeping it for the best reasons in the world.

“A-Xian?” Jiang Yanli asked when Wei Wuxian said nothing, when Nie Mingjue said no more. “You know you can tell me, right?”

His lips were pressed together, his hand tight on his flute until his knuckles were white. He shook his head. “Shijie,” he whispered. “Don’t ask, please. Don’t.”

At least he’d admitted there was something.

“Your conduct is causing trouble for Yunmeng Jiang,” Nie Mingjue said, and Wei Wuxian turned tormented eyes on him, even as Jiang Yanli’s hand tightened on his. “It’s a Great Sect, but your brother is young, untried, and sensitive to criticism. It will be difficult for him to deal with the issues you present, especially if you persist in your present path of continuing with demonic cultivation instead of returning to the orthodox path of sword cultivation.”

Wei Wuxian nodded, looking pained.

“Do you have a suggestion?” Jiang Yanli asked.

“Yes,” Nie Mingjue said. “Absent yourself before you are forced to leave in truth. Go to the Cloud Recesses the way Lan Wangji continues to pester you about – see if you can’t tell him what secret it is that’s weighing down your tongue, if you can’t tell any of us – and come visit the Unclean Realm when you’re done there.”

Wei Wuxian was staring. Nie Mingjue ignored him.

“When you’re done with that, assign yourself the job of checking up on the Jiang sect’s dependent sects, or even just go around to visit every sect listed as having fought in the war, building relationships with them,” he continued briskly. “As for the reason, you’re clever, you’ll think of something. Get Wangji to teach you some healing spells and come help those in my sect who need it. Say that you’re using your demonic cultivation to help ferret out resentful energy in need of cleansing. Something. It doesn’t really matter what. But whatever you do, go. Give Yunmeng Jiang time to become as strong as it needs to be to protect you.”

“But it shouldn’t be protecting me,” Wei Wuxian protested. “I should be the one protecting it!”

“A-Xian!” Jiang Yanli exclaimed, and her expression was suddenly fierce. “Are you the eldest? No. I am. You are my A-Xian, my didi, and that means you are part of Yunmeng Jiang – we have as much right to protect you as you us, and don’t you forget it.”

“But – shijie –”

“I won’t hear another word,” she said. “I won’t! Whatever it is, A-Xian, you need to tell us eventually, or else we’ll all fall apart. Didn’t you both promise me that we’d stay together, the three of us, always? You can’t break that promise now.”

Wei Wuxian’s eyes were wet with tears. “All right, shijie. I’ll figure something out.”

“Start with Gusu,” Nie Mingjue said again, uncomfortable with the display of emotions. “If you tell Lan Wangji the truth, he may even be able to help – in one way or another. Or don’t, it’s up to you. Just get yourself out of the public view. Earn some merits that aren’t related to slaughter.”

Wei Wuxian nodded again, clearly overcome with feeling, and then promptly made up a flimsy excuse to leave, dashing away towards where Wen Qing was still working on her brother.

Jiang Yanli sighed. “Thank you,” she said. “Again. I just wish I knew what was wrong with him!”

“We’ll figure it out,” he promised her. “Even if I have to pick him up and shake the secret out of him.”

Jiang Yanli smiled up at him.

“Thank you,” she said, now a third time over.

“Thank you,” he corrected. “If you hadn’t brought this to my attention, I would be guilty of negligence in regard to the Wen sect remnants – and most of them civilians, no less. As for Wei Wuxian…he’s your didi, and so soon to be my brother-in-law. It’s nothing but what I should be doing.”

“Still,” she said. “I am grateful nonetheless.”

Nie Mingjue looked down at her, fierce and yet patient, kind and righteous in her own quietly determined way, fearless enough to stand by his side and trusting him enough to come to him for help.

His heart moved in his chest.

He decided to be daring, as it had always served him well in the past – he stepped forward, closer to Jiang Yanli, and leaned down to press his lips to the corner of her mouth.

“It is what I should be doing,” he murmured, voice low. “Nie furen.”

Jiang Yanli’s face turned bright red, but she was smiling.

Yes, Nie Mingjue thought – he might not be able to promise love, but accepting Jiang Yanli’s show of initiative was definitely one of the better decisions he’d made.

#mdzs #nie mingjue #jiang yanli #wei wuxian #my fic #my fics #initiative

[secret-engima]

Title thingy if ur still doing that, my friend. Not Everyday Is A Good Day (Live Anyway)

Ohhhhh. Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.

So many things I could DO with this title. *squints*.

Did I ... ever do that ffxv naruto crossover I came up with at like 3AM?

Let’s assume I didn’t and roll with that.

It ends with dying.

It starts with waking up after dying, and finding a world gone bloody and primitive and strange.

It starts with a little boy from a village no one knows opening his eyes one day and ... remembering. Feeling the burning Light under his skin that tangles with the energy in the world around him and realizing he is alive once more ... and the world is completely different from what he remembers.

It is not a good beginning. Because the world has more than fallen apart since he was last awake, and people are superstitious and afraid of odd things.

And there are few things more odd than a little boy with too old eyes and a too sharp mind. A little child with no fear of death, with a birthmark on his front and back that looks like a blade went right through his heart, who dances in the storms with the rain beating his skin and a grin that is two shades too wild to be human.

It is not a good beginning, and there are a very many days that are even worse.

He lives anyway. He lives and he learns. Of ninja and clans, of a world where all have a fragment of magic, a tamer version of the Thing in his veins. Where the powerful wage war and technology is long, long lost (stolen, he thinks, by the paranoid, or perhaps forbidden by them out of fear of another Niflheim).

He lives, and when he is only eleven, he takes what few things he has to call his own and he leaves the village behind. No one misses him.

He walks and walks and walks, deeper and deeper into the wilds. At one point, he meets a giant orange fox who burns with old anger and simmering indifference. Their eyes meet, an old King and a newborn Astral, and the fox dips his head in silent, surprised acknowledgment of the truth men have forgotten. He keeps walking. Living off the wilds like he has done a thousand times in memories not his own, unafraid of the beasts, for they are not daemons, and nothing is scary after facing down daemons.

He finds a nice little nook in an unassuming wood, and there he builds himself a home. There is a village a few days walk away, and after growing bored with making too many potions to place even in his massive armiger, he goes to the village and sells them as herbal remedies. They taste terrible to drink instead of crush against skin, but they work just as well when swallowed.

The people of this village are superstitious too, but they do not know him as a boy turned suddenly too old, only as a mysterious wood hermit who looks too young for his eyes and sells miracle medicine for a pittance, who will save lives from incurable fates with a touch of green hands and a flicker of burning feathers and ask nothing in return.

It takes him a long time to realize the little house they’ve built him for when he comes to visit is actually a shrine.

Yoru, they call him. Night. For his hair and his quiet, for the shadows that walk in his steps. He thinks it’s funny, that even now, in another life, he still ends up with a name that means Night.

And it is a very lonely life, to be held as a friendly, if strange spirit of the woods by other humans, to be alone in his memories and his ghosts in a world that remembers his sacrifice when the humans there do not. The Astrals he has always known are deep in slumber, and for all he is lonely he is reluctant to wake them. Not everyday is a good day.

He lives anyway.

He is thirteen, he thinks, maybe fourteen, when she finds him. She is only his age, and she is so very, very pretty. A rarity with hair the color of pale gold and eyes as blue as the sky.

Funny how they look the same as they did in their last life.

She is a noble’s daughter, and she is too young to be out of her family’s care, but she is not the daughter of the nobleman’s wife, and the son who IS is deathly ill.

Heal my son, says her father with desperate eyes, and I will give you my daughter.

He is angry at the thought of it. At seeing her, who has saved the world and holds his heart even now, being used as a bargaining chip with what these people think is a wayward forest spirit. He could do anything to her in their minds.

And they do not care.

The son matters more.

He accepts and he heals the son they have brought of his illness (something simple, something the non-magical medicine of his era could have healed).

The nobleman, his son, and his escort depart. They leave her behind.

She takes his hands in hers and whispers that she is glad, they touch lips, brief and chaste, and she laughs when he names her Tsuki. His Moon.

Maybe it is a good day after all.

The locals acclimate to her quickly, whisper over the powers they think she has gained by becoming his bride. He does not care, he has his Moon and his little forest home. If his brothers find him ... then life would be perfect, but until then, he is content.

And then a ninja sets his house on fire.

Well, the village shrine really, but it’s the same thing now after Luna talked him into moving in permanently so as to better treat the villagers.

There are five of them, three with black hair and fire licking their bones and two with brown hair and magic like water or earth. They are fighting, and while one of the black hairs sets the shrine on fire, it is one with brown hair that knocks down the lovely Tori gate he’d grown rather fond of.

His magic unfurls, heavy and displeased, and all five drop to their knees with gasps of shock and fear. Two struggle to their feet, collapse again when he presses downward with his magic. They have more magic than the villagers, but compared to him and his Moon, they are raindrops in an ocean.

“Leave this place,” he snarls, his voice layered with a hundred others, and the ninja blanch as they flee.

Except one. The brown haired one who knocked over his Tori gate and is apparently bleeding very badly from his torso, struggles to stand and then collapses.

The other brunette leaves him behind.

He sighs as his magic curls inward and it’s the work of a moment to drag the man inside the crispy house and see what’s wrong. A few potions set the man to rights, and when he wakes up hours later, stupefied and wary, his Moon laughs as he sends the ninja on his way with a scowl.

Three days later, two ninja arrive in the village. All the villagers glare, they are still trying to figure out how to fix the gate on such short notice, but the ninja make no trouble as they approach the shrine home.

“I am Hashirama, leader of the Senju Clan,” the elder says with a low bow, so low his long brown hair touches the ground, “and I came to offer thanks and apologies for my clansmen.”

The white haired one just scowls, skeptical as he stares at the shrine and its inhabitants.

“I am Yoru,” he answers, all of maybe seventeen now, “and this is Tsuki. Your ninja knocked my gate down. And three more set my house on fire.”

Hashirama winces, “I am sorry for the gate, I can fix it if you like.” Yoru tilts his head and Hashirama takes it as an agreement.

Tsuki makes a noise of surprised delight when a new gate grows up from the ground, living wood in the desired shape. Yoru makes a pleased noise, his magic couldn’t do that. He looks back down at the Senju in interest, “I’ve never seen a ninja do that before,” he muses, and the man laughs a touch nervously.

They have come to make amends, but as far as Yoru is concerned, the gate has paid their tab. Even so, he asks questions and when he learns of the Senju’s war with the Uchiha, he frowns.

“Leave my village and my forest alone,” he says, “So long as you are within twelve miles of the village, you are not to fight.” The white-haired one protests, but Yoru will not budge.

It doesn’t take long for him to have to enforce that rule.

He hears the burning of wood and the feels the flare of magic and sighs as he warps over there. A glance proves it’s the brunettes and the black hairs again.

He lets his magic surge out and flatten them in their surprise, snuffs the flames with an ice spell, and glares, “I said,” he intones darkly, “no fighting near my home.”

“You dare-!” snarls the leader of the black haired ones, only to falter when Yoru turns his gaze on him. Speechless under the weight of the gaze.

Most people are when facing eyes the color of age and blood.

“I don’t know what war you fight,” he says slowly, “but you will not fight it here. If you do this again, there will be consequences.”

He looks over at the Senju, silent warning that his message applies to them too. Then he sighs and folds his arms over his chest, “Are you even fighting for a cause? Why are you so determined to kill each other?”

Both sides break out in shouting, accusations of death and vengeance that makes him feel weary. Tsuki touches his shoulder from where she has caught up, her eyes solemn, and Yoru scoffs, “What a pointless reason to fight.”

“And what would you know?” Snarls one of the Uchiha as he stalks forward, moving under the weight of Yoru’s magic only because Yoru is not projecting it all. The sword lashes out for Yoru’s neck, and his armiger flairs to life, blocking the blade and pointing four more at the man’s throat.

The leader of the Uchiha hisses a name, it sounds like “Izuna”.

Yoru looks into red eyes with black marks and crushes the attempt at an illusion (so pathetic compared to Ardyn’s a lifetime ago) with barely a thought, “What would I know?” he muses softly. “What. Would I. Know?”

His magic begins to rise, shifting into visible spectrum, crystalline shares and licking blue fire, an armiger of dancing blades risking in ghostly white. He can feel his skin cracking open and gleaming, mortal skin fracturing under the pressure of angry magic, he lets it form, lets his skin turn grey and terrible, lets his magic coat the summer field with ice and his shoulders with ghostly blue fire.

He watches as the Uchiha who lashed out at him pales, eyes flickering frantically, trying to see through a trick that does not exist.

“Do not presume to know me,” Yoru growls, “do not presume to know my heart or my ways. I have seen what vengeance wreaks. I have walked through its graveyards, I have stood beneath its blackened skies and tasted its ash as the world rots beneath the endless night. Vengeance will eat you alive and hunger for more, it will demand more blood than the world contains and at the end of the day, the dead you claim to be avenging Will. Not. Care. Vengeance is not a reason to fight. It is a reason to die. And if it is death you want, then I will give it to you. I will burn your home to as he and stand upon the bones, and when I am done and the world goes quiet, there will be none who look upon them and will be able to tell your bones from those of the Senju you despise. Is that what you want, little ninja? To paint the world brown with your dried blood? To rouse what lies sleeping and destroy what yet breathes?” All the ninja have gone dead white and Yoru snarls, old, tired fury in his blood, memories of Conqueror-Fierce-Warrior-Mystic stirring him toward violence, “Well? SPEAK and it will be so. Speak and I will SHOW YOU what vengeance is-.”

Tsuki’s- Luna’s- arms rest on his bicep, unflinching from the heat, and she whispers, “Peace, my love.”

His anger cools. His skin heals over. His armiger fades.

Yoru steps back from the white-faced ninja, those who have heard of the supposed healer guardian of the forest but not believed it until this moment, and he warns with dark exhaustion, “Leave. Leave and think about what it is you really want. For your world to burn? Or for your children to be able to grow old rather than lie forgotten in shallow graves and crows’ bellies. Fight here again, fight anywhere with in fifty miles of my home, and I will end your blood feud for you, and neither side will celebrate my intervention.” Yoru turns away, ignoring the wide-eyed Hashirama, the spinning red eyes of the Uchiha, “go away and cease playing at war.”

Tsuki leads him home and he lies on the floor for a long time. Letting the cool of the wood leach into his bones, letting his magic curl lazy patterns in the air as his Moon and his Love curls patiently against his chest, waiting for him to rise out of the memories howling in his head.

Today is not a good day.

Tomorrow might be better, when it comes, but even if it isn’t ... well.

Not every day is a good day.

He lives anyway.

And he will never forget what a blessing that is.

#SE asks #oliverslewty asks #title prompt #Melodies and Manuscripts #Secret Engima Rambles #Not Everyday is a Good Day (Live Anyway) verse #naruto #ffxv #i have a thing #for making noctis the most freaking powerful person in the room okay? #tired secret bamf is a fav trope #that you can pry out of my cold dead claws

[mediaeval-muse]

Book Review

Spin the Dawn. By Elizabeth Lim. New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 2019.

Rating: 3.5/5 stars

Genre: YA fantasy

Part of a Series? Yes, #1 of the Blood of Stars duology

Summary: Maia Tamarin dreams of becoming the greatest tailor in the land, but as a girl, the best she can hope for is to marry well. When a royal messenger summons her ailing father, once a tailor of renown, to court, Maia poses as a boy and takes his place. She knows her life is forfeit if her secret is discovered, but she'll take that risk to achieve her dream and save her family from ruin. There's just one catch: Maia is one of twelve tailors vying for the job. Backstabbing and lies run rampant as the tailors compete in challenges to prove their artistry and skill. Maia's task is further complicated when she draws the attention of the court magician, Edan, whose piercing eyes seem to see straight through her disguise. And nothing could have prepared her for the final challenge: to sew three magic gowns for the emperor's reluctant bride-to-be, from the laughter of the sun, the tears of the moon, and the blood of stars. With this impossible task before her, she embarks on a journey to the far reaches of the kingdom, seeking the sun, the moon, and the stars, and finding more than she ever could have imagined.

***Full review under the cut.***

Content Warnings: blood; violence; torture; mentions of slavery, misogyny, sexual content

Overview: I can’t remember how this book fell under my radar, but I decided to pick it up because the emphasis on sewing was appealing. I’m a bit tired of fantasy books which focus entirely on fighting and devalue “soft skills,” so it was a refreshing change to read something that centered the labor that goes into garment-making and imbued it with a kind of magic. While the plot was very strong, in my opinion, the main thing that prevented me from giving this book a higher rating was the writing: so much happens in this book that some things felt rushed, and I would have liked to see more poetic prose when it came to describing the garments of the magical elements in Lim’s world. But other than that, Spin the Dawn was an enjoyable read, and I’m very much looking forward to the sequel.

Writing: As I mentioned above, Lim’s writing has a tendency to move too quickly. At times, this quick pace was great - Lim doesn’t stretch out scenes that don’t need it, reminding me a bit of Tamora Pierce’s books. But at times, it was somewhat detrimental. A lot happens in this book, so Lim had the challenge of getting everything in without extending the length too much (my copy is 387 pages). As a result, there’s not really a lot of time for suspense. Major events are over in a few pages, and emotional scenes are whipped through quickly in order to get to the next plot point.

The quick pace also means that not a lot of time is given for description. Sometimes, the lack of description was fine - fantasy has a tendency to overdo it, so it’s nice when an author is discerning with what gets described and what can be glossed over. In this case, though, I was hoping for a little more, especially when it came to describing the garments that the main character makes. With noticing and making clothing such an integral part of Maia’s identity, I was hoping for more vivid imagery when she notices or creates a garment - something a little more than a dress being light blue or a sleeve having pearls and embroidery. She does a little of that when she makes a magical dress, but in my opinion, it should have happened every time. I wanted the clothing to come to life before my eyes, especially since most of the garments are made using magical assistance.

Along similar lines, I think Lim could have done more to bring the language of sewing into the way Maia sees the world. The prologue and opening chapter in which Maia describes her family is very good with this - she describes her story as a series of “knots,” talks about how one of her brothers gave her a poetic vocabulary to describe colors, and even refers to clouds having “seams” at one point. I wish Lim had carried over these stylistic choices to the rest of her novel; her prose for the rest of the book seemed sparse in comparison.

A couple of nitpicky things: one, Lim has the tendency to explain to the reader what can be inferred. The story is narrated in Maia’s first person POV, and there are many times when Maia would bluntly state something that was pretty obvious from the context, or when showing would have worked better than telling. Lim also has a tendency to use exclamation marks in Maia’s inner monologue, which I personally don’t care for. But these things happened infrequently, compared to other novels I’ve read. They were noticeable, though.

Plot: This book follows our protagonist, Maia, as she enters a contest to become the next imperial tailor and as she is tasked with fashioning three gowns using  the laughter of the sun, the tears of the moon, and the blood of stars. The narrative elements themselves were engaging; I think Lim did a good job of crafting a story while keeping sewing and tailoring at the heart of the adventure. At first, I was worried that sewing would take a backseat to politics, but Lim skillfully ensured that the sewing was always at the center, and that it was intertwined with the politics in ways that meant it couldn’t be discarded.

I do wish more time was given to creating suspense within this narrative. As stated above, this book moves quickly - so quickly that there isn’t really a lot of time to be worried about whether a character might succeed. While the story itself was fun, and I am in no way advocating for it to be made darker or more violent, I do think the book could have benefited from a slower pace where it was warranted, such as in each trial to obtain the materials for the dresses.

I also wasn’t very convinced by the “big bad” who shops up towards the end. Without giving anything away, I will say that their motivations were somewhat flat - it seemed like they just wanted to be bad because they were bored or something.

Characters: Maia, our protagonist, is fairly likable as a girl who disguises herself as a boy in order to prove something to a patriarchal society. I really liked Maia’s internal struggle over whether or not magic enhanced or undermined her skill as a tailor, and I also liked that she was direct and blunt when needed. I do think, however, that she is a bit too reliant on others to the point where she is somewhat passive. She only really initiates her own actions at the very beginning and very end of the book. Everything in between is determined by others - Edan, for example, tells her where to go to get the materials for her dresses, as well as what to do to pass the trials. He also manages their travel, their rations, everything, so that Maia seems to be just along for the ride. Aside from deciding to disguise herself in the first place and deciding how to handle her fate at the end, Maia shows little initiative. Placing more emphasis on her active decisions could have helped, even in situations when she was being acted upon or responding to something.

Edan, the Lord Enchanter and Maia’s love interest, is charismatic and teases Maia without being cruel. I liked that he was presented as someone who actually cares for Maia - he notices what foods she likes and what her favorite color is, and though he teases her, he’s never a gruff, jealous, violent asshole in the way that so many YA love interests are. I also thought the limits to his magic were interesting and helped temper his abilities so that he wasn’t over-powered as well, though I disliked how he was also used to conveniently explain lore and worldbuilding when Lim could have done that in other ways.

Many of the side characters were also nuanced so that they felt like complex characters with clear motivations. Lady Sarai, the emperor’s reluctant fiancee, is constantly making the tailors do ridiculous or impossible tasks, but it’s revealed that she does so to prolong her engagement and, possibly, defer the wedding. Thus, she appears simply cruel at first, but her homesickness and frustration as being a pawn in a larger political game makes her sympathetic. Likewise, the emperor is given some nuance in that he’s seemingly kind and fair to whoever he meets, but is reliant on Edan’s power to a concerning degree. I liked that his reliance on Edan and magic was understandable (he’s trying to prevent war, after all), but the personal costs of that reliance were questionable, making for an interesting moral dilemma.

But again, I disliked the “big bad.” I didn’t think they were woven very well into Lim’s world, and they appear so suddenly that they felt convenient for plot to happen, rather than a real threat.

Other: While the worldbuilding of this book was interesting, I think Lim could have done a lot more to make it seem more real and intwined with the lives of A’landians. Much of the information about magic, religion, history, etc. is dumped on the reader by Edan simply explaining things to Maia, making the worldbuilding feel like it existed only to make plot happen (rather than make a rich setting in which plot happens, if that makes sense). Out of all the things, I think the Seven Years’ War was the best incorporated because there was a personal element to it - Lim spends the opening chapters detailing how two of Maia’s brothers are killed and how a third is crippled, all while narrating how Maia and her father have to get by on their own. The complex feelings about the emperor and the shansen (the antagonist and whose daughter is the bride-to-be) were thus well-placed and felt real. The magic, however, seemed to appear only once Maia left her home. Maia has magic scissors that belonged to her grandmother, but she never knew about until the contest, and so little time is spent to thinking about who her family is and why the scissors only work for her that the magic didn’t feel personal at all (until the very end, conveniently). But aside from Maia’s personal story, I would have liked magic to be a little more integral to the world of A’landi, even if it was only reserved for the upper class. The same goes for the religion - apparently, religious figures and stories are at the center of Maia’s impossible dress-making task, but Maia is something of an atheist. While I did like the personal angle that explained why she doesn’t worship any gods, I do think religion could have been more integrated into the story to make it feel present (for example, maybe during the contest, people are given breaks to worship at the temple, and it’s understood to be mandatory - just an idea). Same thing with the inclusion of ghosts and demons - they only showed up when convenient.

A few words about the romance: I did like that Edan was attentive and not a raging jerk, as well as the reason for why they couldn’t be together. It made for an interesting predicament, and I’m interested to see where things go in book two. That being said, because this book moves so quickly, not enough time was devoted to developing the emotional connection between Edan and Maia. I would have liked to see more examples of how they enrich each other’s emotional lives, not just how Edan finds Maia interesting for dressing as a boy and refusing his assistance, or how Maia benefits from Edan’s magic. The teasing was fun and helped make for a cute dynamic, but I wanted a bit more. For example, how does Edan bring out the best in Maia, and vice versa? 

Continuing with the Series? Yes.

Recommendations: I would recommend this book if you’re interested in fashion, dress-making, magical garments, sewing contests, and court politics.

#book reviews

[sidneyellwoods]

Spin the Dawn by Elizabeth Lim

July 9, 2019, from Knopf Books for Young Readers Young adult fantasy Goodreads | Amazon | Book Depository

Project Runway meets Mulan in this sweeping YA fantasy about a young girl who poses as a boy to compete for the role of imperial tailor and embarks on an impossible journey to sew three magic dresses, from the sun, the moon, and the stars.

Maia Tamarin dreams of becoming the greatest tailor in the land, but as a girl, the best she can hope for is to marry well. When a royal messenger summons her ailing father, once a tailor of renown, to court, Maia poses as a boy and takes his place. She knows her life is forfeit if her secret is discovered, but she’ll take that risk to achieve her dream and save her family from ruin. There’s just one catch: Maia is one of twelve tailors vying for the job.

Backstabbing and lies run rampant as the tailors compete in challenges to prove their artistry and skill. Maia’s task is further complicated when she draws the attention of the court magician, Edan, whose piercing eyes seem to see straight through her disguise.

And nothing could have prepared her for the final challenge: to sew three magic gowns for the emperor’s reluctant bride-to-be, from the laughter of the sun, the tears of the moon, and the blood of stars. With this impossible task before her, she embarks on a journey to the far reaches of the kingdom, seeking the sun, the moon, and the stars, and finding more than she ever could have imagined.

Steeped in Chinese culture, sizzling with forbidden romance, and shimmering with magic, this young adult fantasy is pitch-perfect for fans of Sarah J. Maas or Renée Ahdieh.

Hi folks! I’m so grateful to be able to be a part of the blog tour for Elizabeth’s Spin the Dawn, an incredibly creative and vivid Asian-inspired fantasy. Thank you so much to Shealea and Caffiene Book Tours for giving me this opportunity! I’m very excited to share my review and some aesthetics and quotes today.

There’s an aspect in high fantasy worldbuilding that doesn’t, in my opinion, get due credit, and that’s the fashion and clothing of the world. I love historical fashion, but most books tend to skim over the clothes that bring life to the world and characters. Spin the Dawn turns it into an epic story filled with action, romance, and amazing worldbuilding.

Our heroine is Maia Tamarin, a skilled tailor who takes her brother’s place in a competition to become the new imperial tailor. I very much adored Maia’s character and love that we don’t see your typical fantasy protagonist here. Maia is not a fighter; she can get by when she needs to, but she’s not good at it. Rather, her talent lies in tailoring: knitting, sewing, embroidering, and it’s exactly what she needs to excel in the world she lives in. Maia is headstrong, determined, and incredibly dedicated to her craft, and it’s clear that she’s a true expert–magical scissors or not. Maia has also been through a lot in her lifetime: she’s lost her mother and two of her brothers while the rest of her family is also shattered from the lost, and even though she’s learned to heal from it to some extent, her experience is something that colours her narrative and character arc. It gives her the drive she needs to take care of her family and pour all her energy into succeeding.

Of all the other characters, Edan really stands out: he was so sweet all the time, with a lot of mystery and a great sense of humour. Honestly, a standup guy all around and an absolutely loveable love interest. Unlike a lot of relationships between immortals and teenagers, this one only weirded me out a bit (the Darkling who? I only know Edan). I also loved the slow burn component to the romance; their romance subplot didn’t feel too dragged out or too quick. And one character who we didn’t learn a whole lot about but who absolutely intrigues me is Emperor Khanujin, who despite being relatively young for an emperor has put his kingdom through a war. It certainly looks like there’s a lot more to him than the surface shows, and I hope Maia (and us!) get to find out more about him in the next book.

The land of A’landi was also fascinating and in many ways timeless, taking inspiration from all parts of China and other Asian cultures to create A’landi. I’m not sure if A’landi is meant to be a counterpart of China or not, but it definitely reads more like a cultural fusion of Asian cultures than only China–from the descriptions of the food, to names, people, and fashions. Nevertheless, I did enjoy it: the world of Spin the Dawn is one of the most vivid and realized fantasy worlds I’ve read in a while, and I loved seeing all of the different environments and places of A’landi.

Elizabeth Lim’s writing is so lyrical and gorgeous and truly a pleasure to read. In terms of pacing, I felt as if it was mostly done right–there are two different sections to the book that have two very different tones and plots. However, I don’t think either would have been able to constitute a book on its own. I also feel as if the final part of the book was a bit rushed–but hopefully, this is something that I’ll feel better about after I read the sequel (which I am very excited for).

I very much enjoyed reading Spin the Dawn: it’s a rare bit of fantasy that doesn’t focus on physical trials and protagonists who know how to fight, but it’s still packed with action and adventure. The loveable characters and wonderfully crafted world will certainly leave readers wanting more.

aesthetics + giveaway!!

  We also have a giveaway going on! You can enter to win a copy of Spin the Dawn at this link, and good news, it’s INTERNATIONAL!!

(Ya girl loves international giveaways.)

We also have a Twitter chat happening at 9pm Phillipines time–which is 9am EST and 6am PST. There will be a giveaway for US-based participants, so if you’re in the US, set your alarms.

You can also check out the rest of the tour schedule here!

about the author

Elizabeth Lim grew up on a hearty staple of fairy tales, myths, and songs. Her passion for storytelling began around age 10, when she started writing fanfics for Sailor Moon, Sweet Valley, and Star Wars, and posted them online to discover, “Wow, people actually read my stuff. And that’s kinda cool!” But after one of her teachers told her she had “too much voice” in her essays, Elizabeth took a break from creative writing to focus on not flunking English.

Over the years, Elizabeth became a film and video game composer, and even went so far as to get a doctorate in music composition. But she always missed writing, and turned to penning stories when she needed a breather from grad school. One day, she decided to write and finish a novel — for kicks, at first, then things became serious — and she hasn’t looked back since.

Elizabeth loves classic film scores, books with a good romance, food (she currently has a soft spot for arepas and Ethiopian food), the color turquoise, overcast skies, English muffins, cycling, and baking. She lives in New York City with her husband.

Website | Goodreads | Instagram | Facebook | Twitter

what are your favourite mulan retellings, or favourite asian fantasies?? will you be reading spin the dawn when it comes out??

hi folks i am SO grateful to be able to be a part of the blog tour for SPIN THE DAWN by @lizlim! thank you to @caffienetours @shutupshealea for hosting, this was a wonderful experience & book!! #SpinTheDawnTour Spin the Dawn by Elizabeth Lim July 9, 2019, from Knopf Books for Young Readers Young adult fantasy…

#4 star #blog tour #fantasy #young adult #young adult fantasy

[born-in-the-wrong-multiverse]

We Were Totally Just Here to Pick Up Bridesmaids: Part 1 - Dean Winchester

Perched on the hood of a car, separating herself slightly from the lively party-goers, Sophie watched as the groom twirled his beaming bride again on the dance floor. She squashed down the nagging envy that nibbled at the pit of her stomach, and forced a grin as one of her fellow bridesmaids and closest friend headed towards her. The absurd, puffy, royal blue dress threatened to drag itself through the dirt beneath her feet, and she was struggling to hoist the voluminous skirt up above her ankles. “Were we boring you or something? Or was all that PDA’ing sickening you as much as it is me?” Snorting a laugh, Sophie shook her head and held out a hand, helping Mandy up onto the car beside her. “Nah, I just needed some fresh air. Gramps over there,” she nodded in the direction of the bride’s grandfather and screwed her nose up, “Kept blowing cigar smoke in my face every time he cornered me for another chat. Took all my limited will power not to rip it outta his mouth and throw it like a stick; I’m sure he woulda run after it like a dog playing fetch. I haven’t seen him without one all night.” Mandy cackled appreciatively and nodded in agreeance before falling silent with a sigh. Several moments passed as they both observed the reception wordlessly from afar, lost in their own thoughts, before Mandy spoke again pensively. “Could you ever see yourself doing that?” “What? Do the twist in a white marshmallow dress?” Sophie teased as the bride did a half-assed version of the dance, moving more of her upper body than anything else in an attempt to stay upright. “Pfft, no. I know for a fact you would never be caught dead doing THAT,” Mandy scoffed, “What I mean, is do you think you’ll ever do all this? Get married, have a big wedding, settle down with Prince Charming?” For a long beat, Sophie stayed quiet as she watched the scene again thoughtfully. It all looked great, and seemed like a fairytale brought to life, but… “It’s not that I don’t want to, one day,” Sophie started slowly, fiddling absent-mindedly with the frills on her dress, “But I dunno if I’m ever gonna be ready for it. Monogomy, I mean. Marriage. The whole ‘Get in the kitchen and make me a sandwich’ deal.” Throwing her head back giggling manically, Mandy clapped a hand to her mouth to try and stem the flow of laughter. “Not all guys are like that, Soph!” “Yeah, well, you get my point though, right? I mean, the rest of my life with one guy? Doing wife-y shit and always being half of a couple instead of just being ME? I couldn’t do it.” “So what you’re saying,” Mandy drawled playfully, “Is you don’t want to be a ‘we’ or an ‘us’. You just want to be ‘me’, ‘myself’ and ‘I’ for the rest of your life. You want to be ‘Just Sophie’.” Rolling her eyes, Sophie sighed loudly and groaned. “Well when you say it like that it sounds horrible!” Cackling madly again, Mandy smacked a hand to her friend’s arm and jumped up with a smug grin. “You know you love me. Now come on, I think they’re about to throw the bouquet. Ready to get your ass pummeled into the ground?” “Oh whatever!” Gathering up the many pleats and ruffles of their skirts, the girls scampered across the grass in their ridiculous heels, squeezing themselves into the throng of crazed single ladies crowding around the bride. Playful squeals of excitement hid the building tension as they all jostled with each other, arms outstretched high above their heads, fingers flexing in preparation for the toss. Counting to three, the bride doubled over for momentum before hurling the bouquet over her shoulder. A flurry of tulle, organza, lace and synthetic fibres lunged for the flowers, clawing for them desperately. Mandy tackled the bride’s younger sister to the floor as she wrapped her fingers around the stems triumphantly. “What in the hell is wrong with these chicks?” Sitting at a safe distance away from the action, the two brothers watched in amazement, a combination of amusement and disgust on their faces. Their tuxedos were mismatched creations complete with black ties, scuffed shoes and ill-fitting cumberbands. But they weren’t there to enjoy the party or mingle with wedding guests. Even if Dean was sinking another glass of champagne as they gawked stupidly at the gaggle of women fighting over the mangled bunch of flowers. Shaking his head, Sam fiddled with his tie awkwardly. “I have no idea, but I think I’d rather run into a Leviathan than one of them in a dark alleyway. They are…really…really kinda scary…did that one just bite the red head?” “Um…yeah…I think she kinda did,” Dean spluttered, eyes widening as one of the groom’s cousins sunk her teeth into Mandy’s wrist to try and force her to drop the loot. “Holy crap these chicks are crazy! Remind me never…never ever…to bring a date to a wedding.” “Oh, yeah, ‘cause you’re really ever going to be invited to a wedding and have an actual girlfriend to take with you,” Sam scoffed with a smirk, only slightly regretting the remark when Dean shot him an offended look. “Sorry, but you set yourself up for that one.” Shrugging off the hurt almost immediately, Dean tugged anxiously at his collar. “Yeah yeah, I know. Let’s cut the chatter and do some actual work, we’re here on business remember?” Trying to stifle his laughter, Sam nodded at Dean’s discomfort and pulled a sheet of paper from his pocket. Extracting herself from the mob of singletons, spinsters and bachelorettes, Sophie patted down her dress to make sure all her bows and ruffles were still in place, groaning at the loss of one her shoes. Her hair had fallen free from its many bobby pins and hung over her eyes lazily. She’d come nowhere near catching the bouquet; she hadn’t even been trying, but in the blur of action, she’d been knocked to the ground and swallowed up by the crazed horde. Mandy was back on her feet, bouncing up and down with an excited whoop, limp flowers dangling from her fist as she grinned ecstatically, winking playfully in Sophie’s direction. Rolling her eyes, Soph limped over to where her missing stiletto had jammed itself into a crack in the decking, and bent down to tug it free. As she flew backwards onto her ass disgracefully, heel in hand, she caught sight of the two strangers sitting at a table on their own. While everyone roared with buoyant amusement at her misfortune, Sophie frowned at the men as they looked up from the piece of paper they’d been pouring over. While one of them appeared to be appraising her, the other seemed almost panicked as he nudged his partner’s arm and muttered something to him. Yanking her shoe back on hastily, Sophie ignored Mandy’s playful jibes as she pushed herself back to her feet and hefted her skirt back up above her ankles. “Where you going, Soph? I was only kidding! And you’re going to miss the garter retrieval if you leave now!” Mandy called after her friend as Sophie ran after the uninvited guests trying to flee the scene. They were a lot faster than her, and clearly a lot fitter, but Sophie cut through the catering tent to corner them at the edge of the parking lot, short of breath and wishing she’d removed her heels first, but determined not to let them out of her sight. She couldn’t explain it, even to herself, but she didn’t like the look of them, and needed to know what they were doing there, if only for the sake of curing her curiosity. “What do you two think you’re doing here?” she panted, hands on hips, hair flopping all over the place. “You weren’t on the guest list, and believe me, I know everyone on it. So spill.” Sam glanced at Dean and Dean glanced at Sam before they both shrugged. “Okay, you caught us,” Dean sighed with whimsical reluctance, “We were gate-crashing the party. You know, have a few drinks, make new friends, convince a couple of jaded bridesmaids to come back to our hotel rooms with us.” “Except you weren’t making any new friends and you weren’t hitting on any bridesmaids,” Sophie interjected quickly. “In fact, I hadn’t noticed you all night until I landed on my ass back there. So,” she made a sound like a game-show buzzer, “Strike one, try again.” Shoving a hand into his pocket, Sam glanced sideways at Dean again, relaying a silent question before shrugging again and pulling an ID holder out. “Okay, we didn’t want to start a panic so we kept quiet. FBI, miss. Special Agent Vincent, and my partner, Special Agent Owens. We’re just here to monitor a person of interest, nothing more.” Screwing her nose up uncertainly, Sophie relieved Sam of his badge and ID with more than a little effort, scrutinizing it carefully before raising an eyebrow and snorting. “FBI my ass. This is a fake. The serial number on this badge is completely outdated and your ID was printed on a commercial license printer. You wanna try for strike three or shall I phone a friend for you?” Jaws dropping speechlessly, the brothers blinked almost frantically as they searched for a new lie. “Save it,” Sophie spat at last, “Nothing you say now is going to convince me. So I’m going to give you a choice. Leave now, stay away from my friends and their family, and I’ll forget I ever saw you. But if I see you around here again, I’m putting a call in to some friends of my own and you’ll never set foot in this state again.” Exchanging another look that conveyed a silent conversation, the boys held their hands up in unison, surrendering to her treaty. “We’ll just be on our way then,” Dean conceded, gesturing for Sam to lead the way, falling into step behind him before pausing and casting Sophie a cheeky grin with a wink. “By the way, smart choice going with the sensible panties tonight.” Feeling her cheeks filling with hot, furiously embarrassed blood, Sophie glared at the men as they walked away towards an old, battered Dodge Challenger. It took off, kicking up dust clouds and rattling along the gravel before disappearing onto the main road. “You’re a dick sometimes, you know that?” Sam chuckled as Dean drove, wrenching his tie off from around his neck and unbuttoning his black jacket. Or at least the few buttons that were still left on it. Even the white shirt beneath had suspicious stains that had, thankfully, been hidden beneath the jacket, and the top button was hanging perilously by a thread. His pants barely fit, but it was the best he could come up with at short notice. The shirt, shoes and tie were his own, but the rest had been raided from a good-will bin. Or rather several of them, until he’d compiled a complete suit out of discarded odds and ends. While they had suits of their own that did the job under normal circumstances, a little research had revealed that the wedding was a proper black tie event, and tuxedos were the go if they wanted to fit in. For the first time in years, Dean himself had shaved cleanly, and was already missing the familiar layer of stubble that usually hugged his chin and jaw. His outfit was in minutely better condition…if you ignored the fact his cumberband was being held in place by several safety pins and some discretely placed duct tape. His pocket square was in fact a paper napkin he’d gotten with his meal at the local diner, and his jacket was several sizes too big. But he’d made an effort to look presentable and plausible, and was admittedly pained that some girl had seen right past the charade. “She had it coming for calling us out like that,” he muttered, keeping his eyes on the road as he shook his head. “How did she know our ID’s were fake anyway? We’ve pulled this trick a thousand times before and even the real G-men didn’t pick the forgery.” “Well, maybe she is a fed herself and just pays more attention to detail,” Sam offered hesitantly, “Or maybe she was just bluffing.” Dean groaned and tightened his fingers around the wheel as he pressed his foot to the gas, eager to get back to their motel room for some well-earned sleep. “Either way, I hope that’s the last we see of her or we’re tanked.”

#dean winchester #sam winchester #supernatural #spn #werewolf #fanfic #part 1