#and ''iel''...just sounds wrong. off.

[wild-lavender-rose]

Fighting for Love (Part 7)

Sequel to Hurt/Comfort Series Saving the Enemy

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6

Pairing: Legolas x fem!reader

Category: One-shot (Hurt/Comfort elements)

Backstory: You are Gandalf’s granddaughter. Long ago you were captured by the Mirkwood elves after saving the life of their prince, Legolas Greenleaf. He tended your injuries and the two of you fell in love. But it was a time of war and the fates were cruel, tearing you and Legolas apart on separate paths. Hundreds of years later, you and Legolas meet again on a quest to destroy the One Ring. But when Gandalf is murdered before your very eyes, Legolas fears that he will lose your heart forever.  

Warning: Mentions of cannon character death. Shock, disassociation, intense grief. 

     Galandriel was speaking, searching each of them with her eyes and her mind. Legolas knew the tradition. He understood the reasons and ways behind the queen’s reservations. But this was no time for formality. He was cradling his captive, his beloved, limp in his arms. She was heavily drugged by Aragorn’s herbal concoctions. It had been the only way. Legolas alone had carried her despite Aragorn and his constant offers to assist. He needed Galandriel’s help now. Surely she could sense that something was wrong. 

     Finally, finally Galandriel’s crystal gaze landed on him, the even expression on her face breaking slightly as she took in the sight before her. “Iel nin,” she crossed to where Legolas stood, the fellowship parting so that she could pass. “ Ennas na- baw injurui.” It was both a statement and a question. 

     “Ha na- hen mán.” Legolas blinked against the painful sting in his eyes as Galandriel brushed the hair off of his beloved’s pale forehead. 

     “Tul- na nin.” Galandriel took her from Legolas easily, the swiftness of it causing him to sway unsteadily. 

Aragorn took a step towards him. 

     “I will care for her now.” Galandriel spoke, addressing the entire Fellowship. “Rest, for you are weary in both body and soul.” 

     “My place is by her side.” Legolas drew himself up despite the fatigue washing over him. “I must be there when she wakes.” 

     “Legolas,” Aragorn touched his arm. “She has spoken.” 

     “Would you not do the same?” Legolas looked at him. 

     The tears in Aragorn’s eyes said more than any words could. But he did not release him. “Please, mellon nin.” 

     “Vedui- na Aragorn.” Haldir stepped between Legolas and Galandriel. “Cin baur post.” 

     Helplessness had begun to drown Legolas. He allowed Aragorn to guide him away, gaze fastened to the pale face of his beloved. Please, beloved, he thought, come back to me. I cannot lose you again. 

                                                # # # # # 

     You woke to Galandriel singing in your ear, her soft voice sending you back into the memories of when you were a child. Gandalf had been worried that you would become rough and unladylike should you be raised by him alone. Galandriel proved an obvious choice for a maternal figure. When you were not traveling with Gandalf or learning from Elrond you spent your time with Galandriel, learning the ways of a elvish lady. 

     But that had been so long ago, back when you were a little girl determined to become a woman. Now you were both a woman and a warrior with a thousand adventures under your belt. Now you were strong and experienced and prepared. And yet, never before had you felt so weak. 

     “Naneth,” you opened your eyes. You were lying on a bed of the softest furs wearing a gown of white silk. Your skin felt fresh and clean. Your hair lay brushed and shining against the pillow. The ache in your head was dull yet ever present. Just like the ache in your heart from Gandalf’s absence. An ache that could not be healed. 

     I’m here, Galandriel’s voice sounded in your thoughts, speaking the language of men. She was standing at the edge of the small wooded clearing you found yourself in, the hazy moonlight and fiery blue torches reflecting off her figure as she stooped to dip a cloth into a wooden basin of water. 

     You sat up slowly, gripping the furs as emotions swept over you. This was not a dream. None of it was a dream. Your eyes filled with tears as the memory of the Balrog invaded your mind, followed by Gandalf’s last words given only to you. She will explain everything, he said. 

     Galandriel crossed to you with the cloth in hand. Her brow was wrinkled in worry, an emotion she usually concealed with ease. You looked up at her as she knelt beside you. “He’s gone.” 

     “It is but a temporary state.” Galandriel pressed the cool cloth to your cheek. “The pain will pass.” 

     “Tell me,” you reached up and grasped her wrist. Her skin was softer than the finest of silks. “Gandalf said that she would explain everything. You are the only woman in his life besides myself.” 

     Galandriel searched your face with her gaze. Then she seemed to come to a resolution within herself and pulled the cloth away. “Do you know where you came from?” 

     “I am from the bloodline of men. My mother and father were killed in the first war against evil.” You said it without thinking, waiting for her to continue. 

     Galandriel’s head tilted ever so slightly. “Then why have you been spared from the lifespan of a mortal?” 

     “Because...” Your brow furrowed. “Because Gandalf’s magic gave me the lifespan of a wizard.” 

     “Gandalf is dead. All his magic died with him.” Galandriel looked at you closely. “Who are you, little one?” 

     “I...I am the granddaughter of Gandalf.” 

     “In your heart and mind, yes. But in this world, Gandalf has no granddaughter.” 

     “But...” Your heart was beating faster now, however you knew not what there was to cause such anxiety. “Gandalf saved me after my parent’s death. He raised me as his own, taught me his magic,” 

     “How many seasons had you seen when Gandalf claimed you as his?” 

     “...I don’t understand.” 

     “What were the names of your mother and father?” 

     “I...I...” The ache in your head grew worse. You ran your fingers through your hair, staring at nothing as you searched through your earliest memories for answers. But the further back your thoughts went, the more questions seemed to arise. “I don’t remember.” You breathed. 

     A sad smile settled on Galandriel’s lips. “You remember not because there is no memory to grasp. You never had parents. You are not from the bloodline of men.” 

     The shock of her words jolted through you. You stood up, swaying unsteadily as you walked away from her to the edge of the clearing. You had no memories. You had no origins. 

     You reached out and ran your fingers along the rough bark of a tree, using it to support your trembling body. “The earliest memory I possess...is being found by Gandalf...I was in the woods...I didn’t know where I was, or...who I was.” A tear slipped down your cheek. “Gandalf claimed me.” 

     “You are maia, little one.” There was the soft rustle of Galandriel’s dress as she stood. “Incarnated to walk these lands once again.” 

     “No, surely this is impossible.” 

     “Gandalf nor I were given understanding as to why you had been placed in the forest with no memory. Perhaps it is a curse from the life you lived before. But Gandalf’s heart was impressed with the sense that he was to care for you and unsure that you learned according to the ways of men and elves.” 

     “But why, Mother?” you turned to look at her. “If it is true and I am cursed, what is my purpose now? Why am I here? Why did the fates give me you and Gandalf and...and Legolas. Why have I been given the honor of assisting in countless quests?” 

     Galandriel took a deep breath. When she spoke, her voice sounded deeper, as if there was another, stronger being speaking through her soul. “You have been chosen for this moment. You will assist in joining the lands by uniting the tribes of men and elves.” 

     “No,” you shook your head, backing up until you hit the tree you had been leaning on. “No, I cannot do such a thing. Our world teeters on the brink of war. A tiny hobbit carries one of the strongest powers ever created. Gandalf has died. You cannot give me this task, I will never succeed.” 

     “You have no choice.” 

     “I refuse!” You screamed, wiping angrily at the tears running down your cheeks.” 

     “Daughter,” Galandriel’s voice grew soft once more. 

     You looked up at her. She gave a gentle smile and held out her arms. You ran into her embrace without question, just as you did when you were small. Galandriel held you close, shushing you as she ran her fingers through your hair. You hugged her tightly. She smelled of the woods and the ocean and moonflowers at their peak. Your tears made her shoulder damp. You were shaking violently, crying out of fear and shock and sadness. How could your entire existence change in a mere moment? Why was this happening to you? 

     After what felt like an eternity, Galandriel pulled away to look into your eyes. “Listen to me,” she began, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. “It may seem impossible, but the truth you now hold will give you strength. Your powers are strong, perhaps even stronger than mine. Use them for battle. Use them to win. If this is truly the task you have been chosen for, then you will succeed.” 

     “What of Legolas?” Your heart gave a painful twinge. “I must leave him again. He would only serve as a distraction for my purpose.” 

     “Or the fates could use him to aid you in your task. Trust in your heart.” 

     “My head and heart are at war now.” You wiped the tears away once more and stepped back. “I must think.” 

     Galandriel nodded. “Go and reflect. I will ensure that you are not disturbed.” 

     You nodded back without fully hearing her words. “Thank you, Mother.” 

     “Of course, my daughter.” Galandriel watched as you turned and walked away, giving another long, heavy sigh. 

     She could hear your thoughts swirling about in your head, struggling to make sense of all that had happened. But the thought that sounded loudest was that you did not want to see Legolas. The belief that the day’s events were reason to severe the bond between your two hearts. 

     It worried Galandriel. She knew all too well that one’s spiraling thoughts could quickly lead to grievous error. She could not let that happen, especially not to you. 

     It was this thought that caused Galandriel to turn and walk in the opposite direction, heading towards where the Fellowship had been sent to rest for the night. 

Iel nin = My daughter

Ennas na- baw injurui = There is no injury. 

Ha na- hen mán = It is her spirit.

Tul- na nin = Come to me. 

Mellon nin = My friend

Vedui- na Aragorn = Listen to Aragorn.

Cin baur post = You need rest. 

Naneth = Mother

Fanfic Masterlist

#legolas #legolas greenleaf #lord of the rings legolas #legolas fanfic #legolas fanfiction #prince legolas #legolas x reader #legolas x you #legolas x y/n #lotr #lord of the rings #lord of the ring #lord of the rings fanfiction #Prince Legolas Greenleaf #legolas my beloved #the hobbit #galandriel #lord of the rings galandriel #lotr legolas #fellowship of the ring #lord of the ring imagine

[neonstatic]

i don't have my pronouns figured out in french and it makes daily life an agony

#ray says #i use the default afab ones but i dun like it #i dont feel like ''il'' fits bc i present so femininely. and ik i can do wtv i want but it feels unearned? to me? #and ''iel''...just sounds wrong. off. #so guess i'm stuck with ''elle'' for now. i wish we didnt conjugate everything according to pronouns tho. rly annoying. #and when i use ''elle'' ppl tend to forget im nb and they misgender me entirely. and it sucks.

[save-the-villainous-cat]

Sorry if you do actually know this I promise I’m not trying to be rude by pointing this out I don’t not want to come off as snobby or anything like that (I love your writing) and I don’t want to seem bad in any way, but I speak French and it’s Le when masculine and La when feminine, and it’s spelled romantique in French, with no gendered terms. Last time I checked there’s no gender neutral way to say the, but the closest you can get (to gender neutral) is iel, which is a combination of he (il) and she (elle) in French to make they. It’s a fairly new word tho and is still being debated over. Once again I promise im trying not to sound rude im so so sorry if it comes off like that. Feel free to call me out if it does

…babe, that’s a meme.

A meme which is supposed to spell words wrong for comedic effect.

Not a single word is spelled right here. And that’s on purpose.

And of course I know you and my husband are completely correct — he is fucking French after all —I just wanted to annoy him because I was sleep deprived.

#never thought I would have to explain my shitposting #no writing #I feel like a few of you are too young to be on the internet

[not-close-to-straight]

Awake (WinterWitch)

A commission for @livewire28​ who wanted the Winter Soldier waking up enough to be ‘James’ again, and meeting IRL!Witch Wanda on Halloween. 

Instead of Halloween, I chose to use the Romanian holiday of Noaptea Strigoilor, (Night of the Spirits, or sometimes, Night of the Wolf) which actually takes place November 29-30th. Troubled spirits rise from the graves, werewolves stalk the shadows, Iele (sirens) sing at crossroads and if you go walking alone, you might find yourself in scary company. 

For anyone who doesn’t know, SebStan is from Constanta, Romania (where this story takes place) and even though Wanda Maximoff is not Romanian, in the comics her fictional country seceded from a bigger country which then became Romania, and I figured it wasn’t too much of a leap to think they still shared the same culture/stories. 

Anyway, enjoy this spooky fic. 

HERE’S MORE HALLOWEEN STYLE FICS!

******************

Awake. 

The Soldier was awake. 

He was awake and he was outside-- when had he left the motel room?

Panic flickering at the back of his mind. 

Usually there was no adjustment from being asleep to being awake, usually there wasn’t more than a breath between the weighted dark of cryo freeze and the too bright awareness of activated, no more than a second where the Soldier wasn’t and then all the sudden he was. 

Had he been activated and unaware for several minutes? Had they woken him up and he hadn’t fully come online before they sent him out? Had he--

--no. 

The soldier had been activated days ago. Activated and released into the world to kill a man that hadn’t even seen the Soldier coming, a man who walked through the door of his secured hideaway and found the Soldier sitting at his table. The target had thought to scream, but the Soldier put a bullet through his forehead before the man could take a breath, and then was gone out the window less than a minute later. 

There had been confirmation of completion, directions to a small motel and a key to a shoddy room. The Solider had lain on the bed and closed his eyes and now-- now he was awake. 

And he was outside. 

What had happened?

The sun was going down and it was brilliant, red and orange fading to blue and purple, the colors so vivid it nearly hurt his eyes. The air was cold, cold and crisp and stinging against his face and the Soldier automatically reached to swipe his hair out of the way, to pull up his half mask, but he stopped mid motion when his hand didn’t glint silver and the sound of gears grinding didn’t cut harsh at his ears. 

The soldier stared down at his hands, at both his hands, smooth and scar free and real. 

What?

A window, catching the last light of the day and reflecting painfully bright, and the Soldier stumbled towards it, twisting his body so he didn’t bump into anyone in his path, instinctively dodging the small dog that wove between his feet. In between unsteady breaths and the desperateness to understand what was happening, the Soldier thought it was odd no one was staring at him. 

Why weren’t they staring?

 He was meant to be stared at, meant to inspire fear. Even without his silver arm the Soldier was massive, hulking and brutal and something from nightmares when he wore his mask. Danger rolled from his shoulders and even the other Winter soldiers stepped away when he came into a room,. His handlers couldn’t disguise the scent of fear when they activated him and civilians screamed when they saw him, if they saw him, before he took their lives. 

Why weren’t they staring?

The Soldier stumbled to the window and stopped short when he saw the reflection in the glass. 

A young face free of stubble or scars, light blue eyes and short, wind styled brown hair. A lean frame wearing a blue buttoned jacket, military issued pants and heavy boots. Two real hands, and a body that hadn’t been twisted and modified and tortured by Hydra. 

“Who are you?” The Soldier asked in disbelief, and when he raised his hand to his face, the young man in the reflection did the same. “...Are we--?” 

“The 107th. Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes, shipping out for England first thing tomorrow.”

It was a memory from another lifetime, another person, another version of him that wasn’t this him but maybe-- maybe--

“James.” the Soldier said slowly, the man in the glass mirroring the deep breath he took in, the way his eyes widened. “Are we James again?”  . 

Somehow, he was only a few feet from the entrance of his motel and the Soldier rushed through the lobby and up the stairs, his steps light despite the boots on his feet. The little girl on her way down the hall didn’t so much as startle when he ran past her, but her mother flinched away as if she’d been hit by a blast of cold air. 

That was how he expected people to react to seeing him, jumping away, shivering, gasping. 

Though the woman hadn’t actually looked up and seen him, had she? But how could she not see him? Even in this form he was big and the sight of a man running panicked through a motel should garner at least a look, at least a glance, at least a notice.

The door to the Soldier’s room was closed which seemed… odd… but maybe he’d closed it after leaving the room and walking downstairs? Had he done that? Did that make sense?

The Soldier didn’t like having so many questions and not enough answers. The Soldier’s life held very few questions beyond the details of his mission and how quickly it had to be completed and he didn’t like the noise in his head right now, the questions and uncertainty and all the things he didn’t understand about why he looked like James and why no one saw him and how he’d gotten down to the street when the last thing he remembered was going to sleep. 

He was spiraling. 

He needed to focus.

The Soldier was in the room without noticing that he had moved, and when he looked over his shoulder the door was still closed and that was wrong wrong wrong and unsettled something deep in his core. 

But a still closed door wasn’t half as unsettling as turning back to the motel room and seeing himself lying on the bed. 

Not himself. 

The Soldier. 

The Soldier was lying on the bed in the motel room still as death, eyes closed, fists clenched because even in the hazy stasis that passed as sleep, the Soldier was ready to leap into action. The Soldier was dressed in familiar clothes-- black tactical vests, black pants, boots-- and his hair was long, face scarred, left hand gleaming in the yellow lights of the drab room. 

The Soldier was still on the bed. 

And he was somehow awake. 

James was the Soldier-- he was not the Soldier-- he was someone. He had been trapped in the back of the Soldier’s mind, rattling at the bars of his prison and screaming for help, trying to claw his way to freedom. He had almost won his way out, back before Hydra had upped the dose of everything, before they had doubled the pain and doubled the hurt, James had almost won. 

But then the Soldier had woken up and James had been silenced, and after so many years, he thought James had died all together, his misery ended just like his life had ended the day he fell off the--

--off the--

He frowned, and the Soldier’s body on the bed twitched as if in annoyance. 

James remembered dying, but he didn’t remember what or why or how. He didn’t recognize what he was wearing, though he recognized the face in the tiny bathroom mirror. There had been war, there had been a tiny blond who wanted to fight-- that hurt, so he didn’t think about the blond anymore-- there had been Hydra and there had been capture and then there had been a table and restraints and injections--

And there had been James, even when the beginnings of the Soldier were there as well. 

It was surreal to remember but not to remember, to have pieces of his mind be James and have others locked down beneath decades of manipulation and repression. 

It was surreal to be someone again, and at the same time,  to not be any one at all. 

“James.” he said into the mirror, touching the face his face with fingers that weren’t silver anymore. “James. You are James. I am… I am James. James. I am--” 

“Bucky, no!”

No no no, Bucky hurt, whatever or whoever Bucky was hurt, so he James pushed that thought away too. 

“James.” he said again, and looked down at the blue jacket and boots, knowing he should know these clothes but the memories were buried too far to find. “I am… James.” 

**************

The air in the city Constanța was thick, heavy with electricity and excitement, biting cold with coming frost, and James turned up the collar of his blue jacket to ward off the chill as he set out to see… to see something. Anything. He didn’t know why this part of himself had separated from the Soldier, but the chance to breathe without the strain of Hydra’s influence was almost intoxicating, and James didn't want to waste it. 

It could be a dream, it could be a delusion, the Soldier might have actually died and freed this tiny bit of James’s consciousness for a few moments. This might be purgatory before they were dragged to Hell to pay penance for decades of horror wrought on the world, it might be another mind trick of Hydra’s meant to break him. 

No matter what this was, he intended to take the time to explore, to be alive, to be James. 

One more time, just one more time, he just wanted to be real one more time. 

Romania was beautiful, familiar to James for reasons he didn’t know or maybe just couldn’t remember. The city was ancient, old buildings mashed together with new, columns and statues looming above noisy vehicles, the people a mix of traditional and modern. Away from the city center the sea crashing against the rocks, miles of mooring posts and floating docks heaving in the waves. A lighthouse stood tall above the merchant ships and fishing boats that rocked in the harbor and the noise from the crowds gathered was almost deafening.

James tipped his head back and inhaled the salt on the wind, wondering if he’d ever actually taken the time to do it before, marveling over the startling cold at his face and the way his fingers tingled as the wind turned them numb. 

When was the last time he noticed the weather beyond whether or not it would affect a mission? The last time he’d smelled fresh food being prepared and was hungry? 

...Was this what it was to be human again? 

There was lively music to the East and James turned onto a busy street, hugging the sides of the building more out of habit than anything else. The people flowed around him as if they didn’t notice him walking the same direction, a few shuddering like the mother at the motel had done, an older woman muttering a quiet prayer when he passed too close. 

James felt invisible, as if everyone were looking right through him and it was unsettling. Eerie. 

The crowd turned down a cobblestone side street and hurried towards a display of lights, funneling into a narrowing alley and jostling one another. The buildings loomed tall over their heads, the fading sun not reaching down and to the corners and all at once it was harder to breathe, and a sense of wrong made James’s skin crawl, the hair on the back of his neck stand up. 

And then he made eye contact with a shadow that morphed into a man dressed all in black, wearing a tall hat and long coat and James knew that man saw him.

No one else noticed James but that man did, and the strangers lips turned up into a cruel smile, his eyes overly bright and empty all at the same time. He saw James, but when James blinked in surprise, the man was gone in the crowd just that fast, disappearing like smoke scattered in the increasingly packed street. 

A ghost. James’s mind supplied even as he tried to brush off the idea. I just saw a ghost. 

The need to escape clanged through James’s head as more and more people merged together down the alleyway that was somehow more narrow than it had been just a moment before. James gasped out loud, loosened the buttons at his neck because he couldn’t breathe and it was dark and they were all headed for something terrible--

--and then the sky opened up again and the street spilled into a field crowded with festive flags and vendors booths. 

It was a fair. A festival. James felt foolish for panicking when the alley had only led to something fun. 

Decades of being the Soldier and he found terror even in entertainment. 

There were tents of every color crammed into every spare inch of ground across a grassy field. Some boasted games and prizes to be won, others sold trinkets and clothing, even more advertised palm readings and fortune telling. There was a stage bathed in lights and a band playing lively music, dancers with bells on their clothing swirling beneath colored lights. The acrid scent of alcohol was on the breath of nearly everyone that passed by James, and their arms were full of piles and piles of food. 

A festival. A party and James smiled-- wanted to smile-- because he thought maybe he remembered being excited for fairs and parties and good food and cheap prizes. 

“Remember when I made you ride the Cyclone at Coney Island?”

Another memory linked to the idea of a tiny blonde boy and James shook it off, shook off the ache at the base of his skull and went back to exploring the fair. 

No matter what they were selling or hawking or giving away, every tent in the field had a garland of garlic hung by the door, some strands decorated with autumnal blooms and colors, others woven into wreaths and entwined with sage and thyme or a sprig of wolfs bane. 

In some distant, far part of his mind James remembered stories of the herbs keeping spirits away, that garlic kept the evil from entering homes and stealing loved ones away. There was a name for tonight, a name for the festival but it was another memory James couldn’t reach, another part of himself locked away behind the Soldier. 

James recoiled when a wolf suddenly passed too close to him, black fur and red eyes, teeth bared and snout dripping red as it wove through the people to nearly trod on James’s feet. The animal looked up, looked at him, and James’s heart thudded to a stop--

--and then restarted with a lurch as someone stepped through the wolf and went on their way.

“They don’t see you?” James asked out loud, foolish of course because the wolf couldn’t answer him. “I don’t think they see me either.” 

The wolf huffed and licked at it’s stained chops before going on it’s way again, weaving through the crowd with impossible grace, nose scenting something only it could smell, searching for a prey James somehow knew would be as other wordly as the beast that stalked it. 

The crowd that had brought James through the streets scattered to different parts of the fair, some people heading for the games to lose their money on rigged contests and cheer over cheaply made prizes, and others going right for the food carts. The food smelled incredible, heavily spiced meats and fragrant smoked vegetables, candied nuts and syrupy sweet pastries. James paused mid step to watch a child fit an entire papanasi into their mouth and then burst out laughing and spray jam across their sibling, who predictably shrieked and demanded a treat of their own. 

The scene reminded James of home, whatever home was meant to be. Yet another bit of himself lost behind the Soldier’s psyche and James flinched away from the edge of a migraine as he tried to remember who he used to share sweet treats with, or how his Ma had made papanasi at home when he was little. 

His Ma. 

James’s steps faltered as a smiling face and warm eyes floated in front his mind. 

Did he remember his Ma?

The moment was there and gone, a flash of light swallowed by darkness, and James pushed it away as he left the food carts behind and moved further into the fair, following some of the more daring visitors as they ventured towards the fortune teller’s tents. 

Over and over James watched people lay down their money to gaudily dressed clairvoyants, crowd around laughably decorated tables and gaze into crystal balls most likely purchased from the shops a few streets over. The faux psychics wore scarves and bells, adopted overly thick accents to play up their craft, and the customers laughed in excitement when their prediction was always exactly what they wanted to hear-- fortune of fame of the promise of love in the upcoming holidays. 

There were some people who didn’t go into the tents, but instead hung around the sides watching with dull, empty eyes as unwitting fools tramped in and out. Sometimes they reached too long limbs out to touch a passer by, sometimes they cringed away from a woman who seemed to glow, a man who was clouded by darkness. 

And sometimes, sometimes, they parted red lips to show off crooked fangs and dug suddenly clawed fingers into someone’s back, leaned close and whispered terrors into their prey’s ear and James felt his chest constrict with worry when the affected people just kept walking as if they didn’t notice. 

They didn’t notice the horror haunting them? 

There was one tent set further away from the others, a tent draped in scarlet canvas and tied open with golden rope, not a strand of garlic or sage to be seen, empty of the protective talisman scattered around the grounds and hanging off other tents. 

Few people came to this tent and James edged closer when he heard someone curse as they stomped away, a man every bit as big as James looking almost terrified, his over dressed date screeching about creepy witches and lies and that he couldn’t believe what she said, she was obviously a charlatan. 

And there was a wolf again, lingering at the edge of the tent with a wary expression. Not the same wolf as before, this one was white and silver with crystal blue eyes and it stared at James with an intensity that made his breath stutter.

Why were there wolves and why didn’t anyone else see them?

“Read your fortune?” A voice from the tent and James dragged his gaze from the wolf to the woman at the door. “Or have you come for something else?” 

“I--” James looked over his shoulder, then over to the side, checking for anyone else close by. “Are you talking to me?” 

“Do you see anyone else?” Her accent was neither fake or exaggerated, a bluntness to her enunciation that proved her a local, a sort of lyrical twist to the tone that proved she spoke this language and several more. “Why wouldn’t I be talking to you?” 

James looked around again and this time he saw the black wolf at his peripherals, the creatures with too long limbs and empty eyes just behind his back, all of them hesitating, waiting, none of them willing to come any closer. 

“...you can see me?” He asked in a near whisper. “I don't think anyone else can see me.” 

“They can.” The woman motioned to the others gathered at the edges of her clearing. “They can see you, just like you can see them. Why are you so surprised, this is not your first Noaptea Strigoilor, you are too old a ghost to be recently gone from this plane.” 

“Too old a ghost.” James repeated. “This plane? I’m-- I’m not a ghost.” 

“No?” The woman’s dark eyes flared bright red and a bolt of power hit James right in the chest, shoving him back several feet and into the path of another fair-goer who did nothing more than shiver as she walked right through James and wandered down the path past the strange woman’s tent. 

“She walked through me!” James didn’t mean to sound hysterical, he’d never been hysterical a day in his life but the woman had walked through him and hadn’t noticed beyond acting as if she were cold--- “Am I a ghost?” 

“Well, you’re certainly dead.” The woman-- the witch?-- inclined her head to her shelter. “Come inside and away from the others. With so many humans to hunt they may leave you alone, but then again, they may not. They are hungry and unhinged and tonight so many of us walk closer to the surface, anything at all could happen.” 

“What do you mean, so many of us.” James spun away from spidery, reaching fingers that brushed at his side, lifeless eyes that tried to catch his gaze and stare into his soul. “Who is us?” 

“The strigoii and moroii, the ancient witches and wild wolves.” the woman drew the cover on the entrance to her tent so they were shielded from the eyes. “I am a witch, so what are you? A spirit rising from the grave to draw your strength from spilled blood or a ghost wandering because you refuse to leave this world behind and be put to rest?” 

“I--” James looked around her tent, at the rich pillows and thick blankets, the stack of cards at her table and a crystal ball that reflected his own distorted face. “-- I am a soldier. I died a long time ago.” I think. “James. My name is James.” 

“Is that your name or the one they gave you?” the witch asked, drawing her shawl around her body as she sat on a low bench. “The ones who hurt you. I can feel it in your aura, an entire life of pain. Do they call you James or is that who you know you are?” 

“...It’s my name.” 

“James then.” a delicate hand reached out from the folds of her dress and James hesitated before taking it. “They call me Wanda and they call me Witch. I don’t care for either, but you may call me whichever you wish.” 

“...Wanda.” James tested the name, and Wanda’s lips curled into a smile. “You… you’re actually a witch? I didn’t think they were real.” 

“Witch is the easiest term for what I am.” There was suddenly a kettle boiling over and water ready for tea and James drew in a breath, blinked and in the next instant there was a cup of tea in his hands, remnants of red magic fading into the air. “Drink, James. It will settle your heart.” 

“How do I know this won’t hurt me?” James challenged, and Wanda’s dark eyes narrowed in assessment. 

“Why would a soldier know to be worried of poison? How did you die?” 

“I don’t remember.” 

Another spark of red and Wanda was suddenly at James’s side, kneeling on the floor and taking the cup from his hands, staring up at him curiously. “Could I see? Would you let me see? It would help you remember.” 

James shook his head, scared for a reason he didn’t quite understand. “No. I don’t want to remember. No one wants to know how they died.” 

“But you do.” Magic was curling between the witch’s fingers, flickering and sparking and James watched it uneasily. “Because it is a piece of who you used to be and you cling to each piece of that desperately, the same way you cling to your name. You want to remember or you wouldn’t have left your body to wander tonight. We all walk a little closer to earth in these hours, and as it gets closer to midnight you will be closer and closer to human. Do you want to remember before our time starts to diminish?” 

She smiled, the corner of her mouth lifting. “It is no coincidence you found me tonight, James. It is no coincidence that I see you even though I do not always see the others that hover around my tent.” 

“Why do they hover?” James couldn’t take his eyes from the power arcing off Wanda’s palm. “Why don’t they come close to you like they go close to the humans or the other witches?” 

“Because the other witches are only playing at herbs and protection spells. I’ve pulled a man’s consciousness from his body and shredded it to pieces while he screamed. I do not play at anything” Wanda inched closer and put a warm hand on James’s knee. “And because I am far, far older than most of the strigoi that wander this place, and they know better than to bother me.” 

“Then why do you set up your tent here at the festival?” 

“For moments like this.” the witch said simply. “Moments when the newly lost ghosts come to surface and need direction and protection.”  

“I am not a newly lost ghost.” James ground his teeth, tensing himself against the knowing that wound through his core. He wasn’t a ghost but he was something, he was-- he was---

He was dead. 

This him, this James, he was dead. 

“You are not dead.” The witch countered, answering a question James didn’t realize he had asked aloud. “But neither are you alive. I have met someone like you once before but you feel different than he did. Closer than he did. Let me see you, so I can answer both our questions and help you on the next part of your journey.” 

Wanda held up her hands again. “It won’t hurt, I won’t hurt you. You can trust me James.” And she raised an eyebrow at him to ask, “And even if you cannot trust me, you are a ghost. What harm could it could it do?” 

“What harm could it do?” James echoed, thinking about the body of the Soldier laying in the motel, and about the life waiting for him if he ended up back inside that shell. His time with Hydra had been nothing but pain, nothing but darkness and horror and being helpless as he watched himself do the sort of things reserved for nightmares. 

What harm could it do? 

“Alright.” he said slowly, and in a motion more instinct than purposeful, James swept his fingers through his hair and combed it back from his face, tipping his chin up and trying to smirk. “What’s th’harm. Lay it on me.” 

Wanda laughed quietly. “I think you were very much yourself right then, James. Were you that charming as human?”  

“You tell me.” James forced bravery into the words and tapped at his temple. “Tell me if this is who I am or not.” 

“Come here, then.” The witch got to her knees and pulled off elbow length gloves, flexing her wrists and then her fingers as she called her magic stronger. “Close your eyes.” 

James’s head snapped back when the witch’s fingers landed at the side of his face, flashes of scarlet warping his vision and snapping behind his eyelids when he screwed his eyes shut tight. 

It didn’t hurt but it was awful all the same. James could feel the witch in his head, in his mind, peeling back the layers of repression and the locks Hydra had put into place--

“Bucky! Bucky, no!” 

“You remember when I made you ride the Cyclone at Coney Island? This isn’t payback, is it?” 

“So what about you? Are you ready to follow Captain America into the jaws of death?” 

“Don’t do anything stupid until I get back.” 

“The 107th, Sergeant James Barnes, shipping out first thing tomorrow.” 

….“I wanna go with you.” The apartment was almost dark, but they were waiting to turn on the lights until the last possible moment to try and save the electricity. “Don’t seem fair that you get to go.” 

“Won’t be fair to me if you do go.” James--Bucky--countered, flopping onto the bed and putting his arm around a set of thin shoulders, hugging a bony frame close to his side. “Who’s gonna write me love letters to get me through the winter over there if you’re out there in the mud and shit too?” 

“M’not gonna write you love letters anyway.” came the stubborn reply. “Not gonna take care of you neither when you come home with a bullet in your ass.” 

“Liar.” Bucky wrestled the other one down to the mattress and cuddled up close. “You’re gonna miss me and you’ll kiss my ass when it hurts cos the bullet.” 

“M’not. I swear I won’t.” 

“Yeah you are. You’ll miss me.” Bucky propped up on one elbow so he could stare down at dark blue eyes framed with thick blonde lashes, a ridiculously cute nose, and the upward tilt of a beautiful mouth. “Cos I’m gonna miss you, baby doll. You’re with me, right? End of the line, we said. How’s it gonna be the end of the line if you won’t miss me? That don’t see right.” 

He waited and waited, poked and prodded and finally tickled until he got a snort of laughter from the blonde and a set of warm lips mashed up against his own along with a muttered, “Course I’ll miss ya, Buck. You’re my fella and I love you.” 

“I love you too.” Bucky said hoarsely. “Don’t wanna leave ya neither.” 

“Guess you gotta.” A small hand pushed at Bucky’s chest until he fell back into the pillows. “Just make sure you come home to me, alright? I already said g’bye to too many people I love, don’t wanna say g’bye to you too. Don’t make me do that. Come home to me, Buck.” 

“M’always gonna come home to ya, Stevie.” 

Stevie. 

“I can make it on my own.” 

“I’m with you to the end of the line.” 

“I thought you were dead!” 

“That little guy from Brooklyn that was too dumb to run away from a fight, I’m following him.” 

“I had him on the ropes!” “Yeah Stevie, I know you did.” 

“Bucky! Bucky, no!” 

“You are to be the new fist of Hydra.” 

James wrenched away from Wanda’s hands when the memories came too fast to handle, flitting through his mind and popping painful against his consciousness as time dialed itself back through a rush of moments, voices, snapshots of his life before slamming to a stop at that one night, that one conversation, that one confession of love. 

Then everything ratcheted forward again until James could feel himself falling and feel the crush of snow and the sear of his arm ripping from his body. 

“James.” Wanda sounded horrified for him, sounded like she might even be close to tears. “O Doamne, James--” 

James fell off the chair in his rush to get away, scrabbling at the floor and scrambling on all fours before finding his feet and bolting for the door. 

The others scattered when he ran into their midst, over long limbs folding back into shadowy bodies and flat gazes turning away as if the witch’s lingering magic hurt their senses. The only thing that didn’t turn away was the white wolf and James stared at the beast for a long, horrified moment, recognizing his own eyes in the animal’s face. 

His own eyes, in the white wolf’s face. 

What in the hell---

He didn’t know where he was running or even why he was running, but James went anyway, following the path of the festival as it wound between tents and booths, through the crowds massing by the stage and behind the dancers twisting and twirling with their scarves and tambourines.

Everywhere James turned there were more people and more noise, too many bodies packed into too small a space and every time one of them passed through James without noticing, he slipped a little closer to breaking. 

Everywhere James looked there were more of the others, outstretched arms and wicked fangs, clawed fingers searching for a perch, deadened eyes locking onto the color of men’s souls and claiming them as their own and every time another human was grasped, James slid a little further towards cracking. 

The world was spinning, his heart arching over newly remembered pain, vision clouding and breath choking, legs failing and muscles clenching, he was falling, he was falling------

It was too much, it was too much, itwastoomuchitwastoomuchitwastoomuch-----

“James.” 

A hand at his shoulder, solid and real and James spun on his heel with wild eyes and harsh breaths. 

“James, settle.” Wanda put her other hand at James’s arm and held him tight. “You’ve been wandering for hours and it is nearly midnight, nearly time for the others to start hunting in earnest. Come back to my tent with me.” 

“Hours.” James gasped out. “How has it been hours? I’ve been trying to leave the festival and following the paths--”

“On Noaptea Strigoilor, no paths lead anywhere.” The witch lifted a shoulder in a half shrug. “You were here when the sun set and you are bound here until it rises again. Come with me before the humans feel our presence and the others take their prey below.” 

“...below where?” 

Wanda shook her head as if she didn’t want to answer. “The Iele will be at the cross roads soon, singing their songs to tempt those left behind into their arms and that is something neither human nor spirit can resist. You cannot be out alone tonight, lest you find yourself in company of the something terrible waiting in the shadows.” 

“I am usually the something terrible.” James said woodenly, allowing the witch the take his hand and guide him back through the thinning crowds. “I am usually the something terrible waiting in the shadows.” 

“Perhaps in your other form you are the something terrible.” Wanda’s eyes lit brilliant, furious red when one of the others strayed too close and sharp nails reached for her companion. The ground at the other’s feet lit with scarlet sigil lines and the creature wailed in agony as it was first burned, and then banished at the witch’s command. “But tonight and in this place, you are the least dangerous of those who walk the festival.”

James didn’t know what to say to that. The Soldier was never the least dangerous in any place but perhaps he James was. At one time he’d been a good man and a good fighter but now he was neither. Not a man anymore, not a fighter with the Soldier but a killer. 

“We have all been used in ways we do not want.” Wanda cut a sideways glance to James as if she’d heard his thoughts. “But those who own us do not own our souls. I think that’s why you’ve come in this form to the Night of Spirits instead of the form of your Soldier. This is who you are beneath what they have done to you.” 

“But I am a ghost like this.” James countered numbly, still too overwhelmed to think clearly. “That means this part of me is dead. Gone. I’ll never be James again, not really.” 

“I disagree.” Wanda swept open the door of her tent and hurried him inside, sealing the portal with a few muttered words and a spray of magic glittering in the air. “If this part of you was really gone, I wouldn’t be able to feel you.” 

James sucked in a harsh breath when the witch’s hand landed feather soft at his cheek, but when Wanda smiled encouragingly, he closed his eyes and tipped his head down into the touch. “See there? A few hours ago when you came to me, I had to call my magic to touch you. Now it is nearly midnight and you are whole, solid. Real. James is real, you are real, whether you are always you or not.” 

James shuddered when Wanda’s fingers swept down across his cheek to his jawline, and then lower still to rest over his pulse. 

“See?” she repeated in a whisper. “Real. And for right now, alive in whichever way matters.” 

“Alive.” James made an anxious, desperate sound when the witch moved away. “No please don’t--please--” 

“Hush, love. I’m here.” Wanda soothed him gently, taking James’s other hand and squeezing as tight as she could. “You’re here and I’m here, it’s alright.” 

“I need--” James couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t breathe. His skin was crawling because he knew the others were just outside the walls of the tent, held at bay only by the witch’s magic. He knew the wolves were stalking the masses and staining their fur with blood, he had heard the singing at the crossroads, knew the siren demons-- the Iele-- were out tonight ready to bargain for souls. 

He knew it all and he couldn’t breathe and he needed---

--The witch startled when James bent and kissed her, his lips coarse and dry, the grasp of his hands at her waist as desperate as the breath he was so frantically trying to finish. 

“Settle.” Wanda called her magic, poured it through her palms and into James’s chest, easing the strain of panic in his soul. “Settle, love. There’s no need for that.” 

“No no, there is. There is. Tell me I’m real.” James said hoarsely, burying his face in her neck and clutching her tighter. “You see me, don’t you? Tell me I’m real, tell me James is real, I didn’t die on that train, I didn’t die, I’m real--” 

“You are real.” Wanda slid her hands up James’s arm to sift through his hair and when the big soldier shuddered and pressed closer, she crooned something soothing in a language he didn’t recognize, one nearly as ancient as the witch herself. “James is real, you are not all lost behind the Soldier. This part of you is alive, even if he is not always present.”

This time when James moved to kiss her, Wanda let her fingertips light red so her touch poured pleasure and contentment through the man, softening her mouth to be pliant beneath his lips, standing on her toes to lengthen the embrace until James groaned quiet and wanting and gasped her name. 

“This is not a night to be alone.” she whispered into his ear. “But neither is it a night to forge bonds we are not prepared to honor. A night with a witch is a ticket to eternity and that is a choice your heart is not ready to make. I would own a piece of you James, it’s how these things work.” 

“I don’t care.” Desire roared through James as he palmed over the folds of Wanda’s gown where it fell around her hips and gathered her lithe frame up against his own. It had been so long since he’d wanted, since he’d needed like this. So long since he’d felt human enough to even look, so long since he’d been James enough to feel the heat roiling in his core and racing towards his heart. 

“I don’t care.” he said again. “I don’t have a choice in anything in my life and tonight is the first time I’ve been James in longer than I can count. Even if it costs me a piece of myself, you’d jus’ be one in a line of people who own me.” 

“Oh darling.” Wanda’s eyes flickered red in sadness. “Do not ask for me because you think there is nothing to lose. That is not a reason to give away a piece of your soul.” 

“Then I’ll give it away cos this part of me is th’ only part Hydra hasn’t touched.” James looked down at himself, at the undamaged body and flesh and bone hands. “And it’d be nice to think someone out there knows m’still there beneath the Soldier. Will I know you again on the next-- the next Night of the Spirits?” 

“You will know me forever.” Wanda promised and James nodded, bending close to press their lips together one more time, quieting Wanda’s shaky sigh and cupping her face just gently gently with his hands. 

“This side of forever is better than the other.” He murmured, thinking of the Soldier still yet to wake in the motel and the life that was waiting there for him. “Will you-- could we--” 

“Come on then.” Wanda linked their fingers and pulled him towards the bed. “Before the moon finds the horizon again and the sunrise bids us part.”

****************

The moon was barely disappearing when James swung his feet over the edge of the bed and onto the floor, dropping his face into his hands and exhaling noisily as he tried to reconcile the euphoria of the last few hours with the awfulness of of the last several decades. 

He was sure he wouldn’t remember how to touch a lover, or remember how to be touched and maybe it was magic, maybe it was their souls sparking close on a night when spirits walked the surface world, maybe it was fate-- but he had known Wanda as if she were his own and she had known him with an intensity that had lit red and white magic between their bodies. 

The witch was quiet now, drawing her fingers along James’s left shoulder where the metal met skin in the Soldier’s body. She traced the lines of invisible scars, drew along the crease where the Soldier’s arm molded to unforgiving steel as if she could see it, or at least feel it, and James thought for a moment that maybe she could. 

“It hurts very much?” Wanda asked then, and James replied with a quiet, “Always.” 

“I wish I could help.” Wanda’s palm heated at James’s shoulder and he sighed, arching back into the warmth. “But this is not the Soldier’s body and once the night has passed you will not know me again until the festival next year.” 

“S’alright.” James shook his head and Wanda smiled, “The longer you are yourself the more you speak like one of those soldiers, the ones from New York.” 

“Seems ‘bout right.” James felt around for his pants and pulled them up to his hips, then plucked his shirt and jacket from the floor. “New York sounds like home t’me.” 

There was a basket of fruit at the table where James’s boots had been discarded and his hand hovered over a plum for a few seconds. “Could I-- could I have one of these? I think I like plums.”

“Take one.” Wanda came up behind him and pressed close to his back, placing a soft kiss between his shoulder blades and winding her arms around his waist. “Take them all. Eat before the sun comes up and our time is over. You and I, the others and the wolves, we are all bound to the shadows so eat now before the sun takes our freedom away.”  

James bit into the ripe fruit, crunched through the tart skin and sank his teeth into the sweeter pieces beneath. The flavors were bright and almost shocking, purple and amber so vivid he thought he could taste the color of it all, and when juice ran down his mouth to his chin, James huffed a surprised laugh and took another bite that was just as big as the first. 

Wanda smiled to herself, but it tinged with sadness and she held James just a little bit tighter as the furthest edges of the sky began to lighten and the solid form beneath her hands began to fade away.  

“You have to hurry.” James turned in her arms and Wanda wiped away the last of the juice from his lips. “You have to hurry back to yourself, James. You cannot be caught here in the sunlight or you’ll fade away to nothing.”  

“That body in the motel is not me.”  

“It is for now.” she whispered, and pushed lightly at his chest. “Go on. Before the night ends.”  

“Wanda--”  

“It will be a long time before you see me again.” Wanda twirled a design into the air with her fingers, drawing it with dark red lines. “Not so long that you forget me, long enough that you will not recognize yourself in the mirror again. But don’t worry. When you come back, I’ll be here waiting. On the Night of the Spirits, no paths lead anywhere, but all your paths will lead to me.” 

Already the daze of pleasure was dimming and James could feel a pull at his very soul as if the Soldier was forcing him back inch by inch, the clarity of being him fading with every breath and the ache of his physical body returning in waves. “I can feel it.” he said slowly, wearily. “I can feel th’ soldier again.”  

“You have to go.” she murmured. “James, go before it’s too late.” 

James went, walking backwards so he could watch her for as long as he could, and then finally disappearing around a bend in the path that would take him back to the city. 

He was gone, leaving the witch alone to face the rising sun.  

Wanda stood in the doorway of her tent and watched the festival grounds wake up slowly, the others gorged from a night feasting on humans, the wolves sated and quiet, the Iele’s abandoning the crossroads to sleep off their meals and magic until the next season.  

“Another time, James.” she whispered to no one in particular, her magic weaving a star in the air that lingered for a moment before dissolving into sparks. “Another time.”  

**************** 

James made his way through the winding streets back towards the motel where the Soldier was waiting, climbing the stairs with feet that felt heavier every step, reaching for the door handle but simply phasing through instead.  

For a long time he stood and stared at the body on the bed, at the scars and the gleaming arm, the long hair and tense features, the width and breadth of a man enhanced, a man so different from James and a man who was James all at the same time.  

And James was tempted, he was tempted to throw open the windows of the room and let the sunshine stream through and touch him in this form, to scatter him into pieces and end his soul so he wouldn’t be trapped inside the Soldier any longer.

“I’m real.” he said into the quiet room, and if he would have been solid enough to cry, tears would have ran down his cheeks. “I’m real, I’m James, I’m real-- I-- I’m real.” 

The Soldier opened his eyes and for a split second they flared panicked, terrified blue, his mouth open onto a breathless scream of “No!”-- 

--but it faded to nothing more than an echoing voice in his head that was silenced by the first rays of sunshine. 

The Soldier sat up from the bed and stood to his feet.  

It was sunrise, and he had a mission, and that was all he knew. 

He was awake. 

*******************

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Franny’s 30 Day Cover Challenge

Playlist

Franny’s 30 Day Cover Song Challenge: (categories are mostly from here, and here, with some from here, and a couple I made) in September 2020 one of her musician friends challenged her to do the thing and she was like “It seems like a fun way to show everyone what kind of music has influenced me as a musician, singer, songwriter, and just like, person. So I’m going to do it.”

In reality, she recorded most of them in 1-2 days to distract her from how sad she is because Wilbur hates her and he’s sad lmao

It helped a little.

(If you want me to drop the playlist she mentions in #24 let me know, I have it started I can finish it)

TW: mentions of Franny’s political beliefs so tw: politics, an allusion to suicide though the word isn’t directly used, mention of 9/11 and the subsequent invasions...nothing graphic with any of these triggers but worth a forewarning

Day 01 - A song that makes you happy

Honey Spiders by The Parlotones

“The Parlotones are this fantastic indie rock band out of South Africa. And I actually thought about doing their song, uh, Stars Fall Down for day sixteen, but I’m going with Honey Spiders for day 1. There were lots of Parlotones songs, I mean. Push Me to The Floor, We Call This Dancing, Should We Fight Back...but ah, Honey Spiders always puts me in a good mood.”

Day 02 - A song that helps you clear your head

Light of a Clear Blue Morning by Dolly Parton

“I grew up on Dolly, and it’s funny because for the longest time this song wasn’t really on my radar as much as it is now. But when I was twenty-two I was going through something really difficult, and my then-fiance now husband was abroad for work, so I was alone in our apartment and just. Really, profoundly sad and lonely. So I put on a Dolly Parton record and just laid on the bed and Light Of A Clear Blue Morning played and I had a good long cry and felt so much better after that. When I need to think about how to solve a difficult problem, or I feel overwhelmed, I just listen to that song.”

Day 03 - Song you love from a band/artist you hate

Should’ve Been A Cowboy by Toby Keith

“Honestly, he’s called me a nasty lady to my face and I’ve called him a facist enabling pig to his, so I have no qualms openly saying I hate Toby Keith. That being said, Should’ve Been A Cowboy is one of the best country songs of the 90s, undeniably. I loved that song when it came out when I was thirteen, and I still love it.”

Day 04 - A song about drugs or alcohol

Whiskey Lullaby by Brad Paisley and Alison Krauss

“This is probably cheating, because my lovely best friend Daniel and I cover this a lot at Dara & Danny shows. But today look who I have! My friend Max from Seoul Hanoi’d! Max the Korean Scot who can’t hide his accent to save his life, so let’s see how it sounds in a Scottish accent.”

Day 05 - A protest song

Talking Vietnam Blues by Phil Ochs /// and Here’s to The State of Mississippi by Phil Ochs

“This one was hard because I. Fucking. Love. Protest music. I could have done a whole 30 days of protest music - wow, let me know if I should do that and give my husband a heart attack with all the twitter threats I’ll invite. Huh. Right, so I was going to do Your Flag Decal Won’t Get You Into Heaven by John Prine. But I decided to do two Phil Ochs songs because I don’t think Phil Ochs is talked about enough. It’s a shame we lost him so young. Ochs’ sardonic humor and honesty in his writing has influenced me as a songwriter deeply. When I write political songs, I don’t hold back, and it’s because of Phil Ochs’ writing that I have that courage. I’ve been singing Love Me, I’m A Liberal since I was in college with constantly updating lyrics. It was so hard to even choose which songs of his to do because for his fairly short career his songbook is lengthy and full of gems. I’m Going to Say It Now, Draft Dodger Rag, Spanish Civil War Song, I Ain’t Marching Anymore...I couldn’t pick one so I’m cheating and recording two.”

Day 06 - A song you wish you wrote

When I Think About Cheatin’ by Gretchen Wilson

“I will forever be pissed off that I didn’t write this song. I’m absolute trash for my husband, so it’s never -- I’ve never had to be in a situation to ever consider -- but this song gets me every time. It feels like I could have written it. Because we do spend a lot of time apart travelling for our work. And the sentiment expressed in the song is a little too real.”

Day 07 - A song in a language you don’t speak

Khattar by Khine Htoo

“This will either be a charming attempt to sing in Burmese or I’m about to offend a lot of people. Which, being a politically outspoken woman on the internet, I’m used to anyway. So. 1, 2, 3, okay here goes.”

Day 08 - A song by an artist no longer living

Phop Samnang by Sinn Sisamouth (inspiration)

“Haha, you thought I’d see the name of this category and not do a Sinn Sisamouth song? You were wrong.”

Day 09 - A song you want to dance to at your wedding

Devoted To You by The Everly Brothers

“I’m already married, so this was actually our first dance song at our wedding. Day three of our wedding, like the more Westernized wedding ceremony day. We had a three day long traditional Cambodian wedding and I felt like a princess. An-y-way!”

Day 10 - A song that makes you cry

Borrowed Rooms and Old Wood Floor by Emily Scott Robinson

“Unfortunately, Emily Scott Robinson and I aren’t related. Sad, I know, because she’s so talented. Almost her entire album Traveling Mercies is...sad as hell. The record reminded me of early Dolly Parton, and my second solo album. You know, all those sad-ass songs. The Dress is honestly the song that makes me the saddest but I can’t even listen to it without crying so.”

Day 11 - A song that you love hearing live

Prove My Love  by Violent Femmes

“There is nobody I have seen in concert more than Dolly Parton, but Violent Femmes and George Strait come incredibly close. The Cranberries, the amount of times I saw them in the 90s and early 2000s...close fourth. Probably. The very first concert I dragged my husband to was a Violent Femmes concert, he was not prepared for how hard college me went.”

Day 12 - A song from before 1960 

There Ain’t No Sweet Man That’s Worth The Salt of My Tears by Libby Holman

“This song is from 1928. I came across it when I was in grad school and it’s, as the kids say, a bop.”

Day 13 - A song you think everybody should listen to

White Man’s World by Jason Isbell

“I think perspectives of people of color should of course take precedence in these conversations. But I find this song to be a good faith attempt of a white man coming to terms with the institutional racism and sexism in the world around him. And I think this song can be a useful tool to explain certain concepts of racial justice to ignorant but well-meaning folks. As a woman of color I think Jason Isbell did a great job not centering himself even though it was from his perspective. This song is great musically and necessary socially.”

Day 14 - A song from the 1970s

You’re No Good by Linda Ronstadt

“Linda Ronstadt is grossly underrated, that’s all I have to say here.”

 Day 15 - A song people wouldn’t expect you to like

Racists by Anti-flag

“I mean, I’ve talked about how much I like punk in the past, and I remember a video of Seoul Hanoi’d doing Spanish Bombs at a San Antonio show made the rounds, but I don’t think I’ve talked about how much I like Anti-flag. People don’t expect me to like punk for some reason. But I agree with...everything punk music is all about.”

Day 16 - A song that holds a lot of meaning to you

Blue by LeAnn Rimes

“It’s silly, but I won a county fair singing competition with this song in high school and it really fueled my passion for music, that win. It’s also the first song Cornelius heard me go full Georgia on, with the yodels and all, at the little bar in my hometown on his first trip meeting my parents. The song doesn’t cut to my very soul ot anythin’, but it’s special to me.”

Day 17 - A song attached to a memory

Supernova by Liz Phair

“I remember buying Liz Phair’s Whip-smart album when I was eleven. And in college, when I was getting ready for dates with Cornelius in my dorm room, I would dance around to a CD I burned and wrote on it with a sharpie, ‘Pre-date Movie Scene Music.’ God, what was even on there? I’m about to expose myself as the most basic 1999-2001 bitch. I remember Head Over Feet, I mean, Alanis Morisette? I was a young woman in 2000, obviously I loved her. Mm, Dreams by The Cranberries...oh, Kiss Me, Sixpence None The Richer...yeah, anyway, Supernova was on there.”

Day 18 - A song from the year you were born

Call Me by Blondie

“...I can’t believe Call Me is as old as I am.”

Day 19 - A song that reminds you of someone you miss

Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing (yes, of course she does a cover with banjo)

“This was my late best friend Molly’s favorite hymn. And I sang it at her funeral at her husband’s request. Molly and I grew up together in the small town of Payne Lake, Georgia and Molly was the most devout Christian...but she was also the first person I came out to as bisexual when I was a teenager, and she said that Jesus taught her that love was the greatest commandment and that meant I was automatically twice as good at it as her. Her faith guided her every action but she never talked down on her two best friends - Dan(iel Maitland) and I for not sharing it. Molly was doing the whole emulate Jesus thing beautifully. I miss her every day and it’s been seven years. If you ever think that people won’t miss you...you’re wrong. All right, let’s see if I can get through this without crying.”

Day 20 - A song by an artist you discovered this year

Hello, Anxiety by Phum Viphurit

“I just discovered this quirky Thai-Kiwi singer and not to be dramatic, but he’s my favorite thing in the world right now.”

Day 21 - A song with a city or country in the title

Oh! Phnom Penh (track 20)

“This song was written after the fall of the Khmer Rouge, and after people began to make their way to what was left of their homes, alone, or with what was left of their families. If you want to learn more about what that was like to actually live it, my cousin Reena Boran has a video interviewing her parents and paternal grandfather and uncle about it. Reena is a journalism student currently studying in London but she lives in Cambodia. Her mother is my aunt Malisruot, my mother’s youngest sister. The video is English subtitled on her channel, I’ll link it in the description box below.”

Day 22 - A song from the 1960s

To Sir, With Love by Lulu

“I didn’t actually discover this song until I heard it covered at a 10,000 Maniacs concert in the 90s. My friend Allison was standing next to me and I just started crying and she’s like ‘are you okay?’ and all I just blubbered out ‘My dad!’ For the uninitiated, my dad married my mom, who’d raised me alone until then, when I was six and he adopted me when I was eight. My dad didn’t have to adopt me, he didn’t have to call me his daughter, he could have just been like half of my friends’ stepdads and give me a place to live and nothing else. But my dad was my biggest supporter from day one. He convinced my mom to let me join the dance team and show choir instead of science club, he was the one that talked my mom down from probably killing me when they found out I was only studying music and not music and political science at NYU. I am who I am today because he is my dad. And this song just says everything I’ve always thought about him.”

Day 23 - A song from your childhood

Una Lacrima Sul Viso by Bobby Solo

“But Franny, aren’t you a Cambodian raised in the US? Yes, but you were fooled. My very white father is also an immigrant. He is from Switzerland and while he didn’t teach me to speak Italian and German growing up, he played German, Italian, and French records all the time. My parents often spoke to each other in French and I picked up some French but properly studied it starting in high school, and I didn’t study Italian until college -- and my German is still …. [points to a spot on the screen where she later inserted a card linking to a video on her cousin Köbi Framagucci’s YouTube channel titled ‘Can My American Cousin Speak German?’ where he tests her Standard and Swiss German speaking and comprehension]. But hell if I couldn’t sing every one of the songs from my father’s French, German, and Italian record before I knew what the words even meant.”

Day 24 - A song that gives you chill vibes

Glorify by Ivan & Alyosha

“Dan(iel Maitland) and I actually have an entire playlist on my Spotify accounts of songs to listen to to get us out of writers’ block. And one that I often will put on repeat and just absorb through my headphones with my eyes closed is a song called Glorify by Ivan & Alyosha. I think it touches on a lot of the themes I include in my songwriting. Christian mythology, the darker side of humanity, it often reminds me of what I love about songwriting. If you say please I might drop a link to that playlist.”

Day 25 - A song that’s your signature song

Long Gone Lonesome Blues by Hank Williams“Right, so I chose this instead of a Kitty Wells song or I Get A Kick Out of You (her being

featured on a 2005

recording propelled her career majorly) because if you’re familiar with me you might have seen a video that went around in like….2017? 2016? of Dan(iel Maitland) and I doin’ the song at our hometown bar in 2014. I posted it in response to some tweets because hoes mad when a WOC calls out racism and sexism in the Nashville music industry. ‘Bet she don’t even know Hank’, really? You think I wouldn’t know the history of one of the two music industries I work in? Please. Anyway, she knows Hank and nails the incredibly technical yodel -- the

most difficult

one in Hank’s songbook - in Long Gone Lonesome Blues. Mm...Lovesick Blues though, that also strikes fear into my heart. Anyway stay mad I guess?”

Day 26 - A song by your favorite band

Gun Shy by 10,000 Maniacs

“10,000 Maniacs was one of my favorite bands when I was in like 5th grade through 10th. I listened to them for a little while after Natalie Merchant left for a solo career, but the Natalie Merchant era was really what resonated with me the most. Gun Shy was a bit too advanced for my little 5th, 7th grade ears to really appreciate when I first discovered the album In My Tribe. Merchant’s voice -- because like, I don’t have a very conventional voice either, so her and Dolores O’Riordan really changed my entire perspective on what a woman’s voice can sound like in rock music. Um, yeah, so her voice more than the lyrics just wowed me. And as I got closer to graduating high school and especially in college I actually understood what What’s The Matter Here, Hey Jack Kerouac, and Gun Shy were talking about. Gun Shy...really became a significant song to me because...being born in 1980 I grew up in a relatively peaceful time. The Cold War was all but thawed by my tenth birthday. But I was getting ready to leave my then-boyfriend-now-husband’s apartment for class at NYU on the morning of 9/11. We stood in line for hours to donate blood. And then my government invaded two completely unrelated countries and jingoism and terrifying, fervent nationalism, and xenophobia just smacked me in the face. And friends of mine from high school were convicted to drop out of college and join the Army, and died, for an unjust, imperialist war, and suddenly Phil Ochs, John Prine, and Bob Dylan lyrics hit a lot different, and I understood what Gun Shy was really about.”

Day 27 - A song you hate by an artist you love

Mrs.Robinson by Simon & Garfunkel 

“Paul Simon is one of my favorite songwriters ever, um, and I actually used to like Mrs. Robinson….until I got married and everyone sang it at me. It’s kind of my fault, I did choose to take my husband’s last name. And I leaned into it by making my social media handles all Mrs. Robinson...but still. Only play the song around me if you want to die.”

Day 28 - A song that a younger you would have loved

Mean by Taylor Swift

“I’m so genuinely glad that I am older than Taylor Swift. Middle school Franny did not need Taylor Swift to enable me and fuel my ego. Some of her singles, while not really 35 and 40 year old Franny’s cup of tea, young me would have played until my mother hid the record or cassette from me. Although - fuck if Tim McGraw didn’t immediately give my happily married ass flashbacks to my first love and make me bawl like a baby? Right, so when Speak Now came out and I listened to it, Mean, while not a song that adult me has listened to maybe more like ten times, I immediately thought ‘wow, I needed this song when I was in middle and high school.’ I could literally picture 7th grade me with my little guitar and my little cowboy boots my dad bought for me singing this at the talent show making eye contact with the kids who bullied me as if it was some kind of own when it’s not. I could still, almost thirty years later, name them if I really wanted. So, for 7th grade me, Mean by Taylor Swift.”

Day  29- A song that reminds you of your partner/spouse

ផាត់ជាយបណ្តូលចិត្ / Phat Cheay Bon'dol Chet by Sinn Sisamuth (translation) (female singer covering it) (modern, studio recording of a male and female singer dueting it) (a cool violin cover) (another female singer) (cool guitar cover)

Feat. some members of Seoul Hanoi’d. Andy Chaiyaporn (violin), Max Cho (piano), Jodie Batbayar (cello), Aisulu Niyazova-Li (percussion) and Franny has her guitar

“The song, lyrically, only reminds me of my husband a little bit. But Phat Cheay Bondol Chet has several memories with my husband attached to it. The first time he heard me sing in Khmer was at my mother’s house in Atlanta when I had him visit the first time to meet my parents. My mom had a little dinner party at our house to show him off, like Asian moms do when they think their daughter snags a good one, and I was hand washing the dishes while my mom and the other Cambodian parents were listening to Sinn Sisamuth records. I’ve always loved the song I’ll be showing y’all today, like I’ve always just stopped what I was doing and -- so it came on and I just started singing along without really being aware of it. And then at a different diaspora get together that summer, that song came on and I just kinda. Pulled him aside to the side yard of that person’s house to look at the stars with him and translated the song. It’s one of the Khmer songs he instantly recognizes now, so it’s special.”

Franny did NOT say in the video that college her 100% had him sit in the grass with her outside that person’s house, where nobody could see, so she could makeout with him 

 Day 30- A song by one of your favorite songwriters

Reincarnation by Roger Miller

Feat. Seoul Hanoi’d, done more in the style of the Cake cover 

Also instead of singing the lyric “you’re a girl, I’m a boy” she goes “you’re a girl, so am I” because she doesn’t ever change pronouns, she just makes it gay because she is a bi-con

“Roger Miller, to me, is as important as Dolly Parton, Paul Simon, Bob Dylan, in the American songbook. He’s not as talked about which is a shame because his discography is iconic. Getting to be a part of King of The Road was one of the highlights of my career.”

#&&...hc

[marinbel]

Honestly

Alright so I'm already behind but I decided to combine the Day 1 (Questioning) and Day 2 (Date) prompts to give you this! It's 11:26 pm here, I still made it for Day 2 at least

I'll post it onto Ao3 and Fanfiction tomorrow when I turn my computer on. Anyways, hope you like it!

Title: Honestly

Rating: T

Words: 1715

Ship: Bruise

(Sorry, mobile won't let me add a Read More)

Honestly, Cole had no idea what he was. Was he gay? Was he straight? Was he bisexual? Who knew, really.

In the past he's had a girlfriend and a boyfriend. He's never really thought too much on what that meant before. All he knew was he loved both of them when they dated. He could really care less if they were boy, girl, or something else.

That made him wonder before if perhaps he was pansexual, like Kai. He wasn't so sure if he could call himself exclusively pansexual, though. And unlike Kai, he didn't really catch feels for people so fast.

And that made him think maybe there were similarities to both of his romances that drew him to them. But honestly... The only thing Seliel and Daniel had in common was that they both had darker hair and their names both ended with "-iel". Beyond that, they couldn't be any more different.

She was bold and energetic. He was shy and cautious. Go figure.

The point was he closed the discussion on his sexuality quite a while ago. He didn't really find something he could connect with so that was that.

Until now. Until for the past few years he's wondered why he found himself so attached to Jay. He wrote it off as simply enjoying their friendship. When Sensei Wu recruited their team, Cole was alone and then one day he brought home this annoying kid named Jay.

He wasn't going to like this guy, he thought back then as Jay would follow him around everywhere like a lost puppy when Sensei left to get their third member.

But turns out he was dead wrong. Over the next coming months, he somehow developed a friendship with Jay, no matter how chatty or clingy he was. Suddenly Jay became his favorite person to talk to. Turns out he ended up keeping that lost puppy.

And after all these years, he's still the happiest when he gets to spend time with Jay.

But he knew it was probably something else that made his heart beat faster when Jay excitedly grabbed his hand to show him a new video game for sale. Or sent shivers down his spine when Jay would fall asleep on his shoulder at breakfast after a particularly brutal session of early morning exercises.

Or, heck, why was he so overjoyed when Jay asked Cole to accompany him on their year-long solo missions looking for Wu?

It was when they had to share a bed in a hotel room during that search did Cole realize it.

Jay had jokingly told Cole, "Goodnight, Honey," before he turned off the light.

That's all it was: A joke. Except it only made Cole recognize how much he'd really like for it to be for real.

And oh my God, he was in love with Jay.

So back to his current conundrum: what even was his sexuality? Now comparing Seliel, Daniel, and Jay, the only thing the three had in common was that they were all someone Cole could call his closest friends. While he had drifted from Seliel and Daniel over the years, he could still remember their strong bond back when.

So he was attracted to people he could first consider his best friend. Great way to make him understand his sexuality for sure, thanks.

Except for when he stumbled across the asexual spectrum online. And suddenly he had a word to describe himself.

Demisexual. Ah. That sounded about right.

For someone who put his sexuality on the back burner for so long, not really caring about what exactly he was, it felt... Nice to finally realize just what he could identify with.

But that was only the first obstacle he had to face. This next one would be way scarier, way more nerve wracking.

He had to know if Jay felt the same way about him too.

...

Finding a time to bring it up was easier said than done. If they weren't busy with training or doing other ninja duties, Cole would get too nervous to actually spit the words out.

And he regretted to say it, but he ended up avoiding Jay to try to figure out the best way to casually ask him.

So he should've seen it coming when Jay knocks on his bedroom door one late afternoon.

"I have to go pick up some, um, parchment paper for Sensei. Did you wanna come with, maybe?" Jay asks, sapphires never settling on one thing, darting between Cole, the floor, and the wall.

"Sure," Cole agrees. Shit, why'd he do that?! He's not prepared for this just yet. "I'll bring my umbrella, the forecast says it might rain in the next hour."

Jay beams with his thousand-watt smile and Cole instantly remembers why he said yes. "Great! I'll get my boots on."

...

It's only a light drizzle when Cole and Jay head to the calligraphy store. They keep the conversation casual, something actually not that typical of them. It never took long for them to start going on tangents of various topics, so this felt just a little weird.

Cole blamed himself for that. He's keeping distance while his thoughts mull over the best course of action.

They get the big rolls of paper and tuck them into the bag before the head back out the door. And standing there under the awning, they find the once misty drizzle now a straight up downpour.

Jay huffs a laugh. "Geez, where's Nya when you need her?"

Cole opens the umbrella, making sure the paper doesn't get damaged the second they head out there. "Guess we'll just have to make do."

Jay huddles closer to Cole to get coverage from the umbrella and they head down the street together.

Now they're just silent and that is 100 percent not normal for them.

It's when they reach the crosswalk and are waiting for the red hand to disappear does Cole realize something.

Didn't Kai and Lloyd buy parchment paper for Sensei last week? He remembered them coming home and Kai complaining about how nearly every crosswalk was red for them and how cold he was.

If Sensei already had his paper, then why...

The crosswalk beeped for them to go and as they crossed the street, Cole glanced down to Jay to see his cheeks a rosy pink.

'It's probably the cold weather,' is Cole's instinctive guess, but the other side of him wants it to mean something else.

He also realizes Kai was right. While they got two lights in a row, the third had them stopped again for what felt like forever.

And all Cole wanted was answers. So what the hell, he was going to say something.

"Jay, did Sensei really ask you to get extra paper for him?" He turns just in time to see Jay flinch at the question.

Jay probably only now realized the error in his rationale. He grins at Cole. "He could always do with more, right?"

"Sure he could, but I also know you like to procrastinate. And if he didn't ask directly for you to get some, I doubt you'd do it," Cole counters and Jay visibly gives up.

Jay shrugs. "Maybe I just wanted an excuse to spend some time with my distant best friend for a change."

"Oh," is all Cole can say to that.

Jay chuckles softly. "Yeah, you think I didn't notice? What's on your mind? Spill."

Cole shakes his head, but he can't stop himself from smiling. "Ever so perceptive of you."

They cross the street again and Jay looks over to Cole. "Does it have to do with why I'm completely dry and yet you're letting your shoulder get soaked?"

"You're the one holding the paper," Cole weakly defends.

Jay snorts, "Yeah, in this hand." He raises his right hand, the one completely under the umbrella. He reaches out with his other hand to tug on Cole's sleeve to get him to stop once they make it across the street. "Come on, give me something better than that."

Jay is determined, Cole would give him that much. He turns his head to look off to the side, sucking in a sharp breath. "I don't know, I didn't want to get you wet."

In response he hears Jay huff a dry laugh. "Hah, like you haven't already."

Cole whips his head to focus back onto Jay. "What?"

"What?" Jay blinks, his face turning several shades of red.

There's a pause between them that only manifests more tension the longer they lock eyes. So Cole furrows his brow and swallows his anxieties. "Jay... Do, do you like me? Like... Like me, like me?"

"No!" Jay says rather too quickly before he gives in. "Yes... Maybe, I don't know!" He sighs, shoulders dropping. "Yeah, it's okay. I know you're not into me the same way I'm into you."

Cole starts at that. "Jay, are you kidding me? Of course I'm into you! It's almost worrying how much I love spending time with you. You're my best friend, but I'd be lying if I said I haven't thought about us as something more than that. Honestly, it's embarrassing how much I think about it." He reaches out his free hand to gently grip Jay's upper arm. "If anything, Jay, I'm solely into you."

Oh shit, he seriously just did that. So much for bringing it up casually.

Jay opens his mouth in an attempt to respond to that declaration. When he can't find his words, Cole tries for him.

"Jay...?"

Jay fists his hand in the collar of Cole's hoodie and pulls him down, his hot breath against Cole's lips. "Shut up, Dirt Clod."

It's certainly not the most elegant of kisses, but for them it was honestly perfect.

...

By the time they get home, hand in hand, Kai is the first to greet them.

Amber eyes dropping to their hands, he snickers. "Enjoy your date?"

But Jay doesn't deny it. He doesn't let go of Cole's hand either. He simply smiles at Kai, holding up their hands. "Yep," he replies, popping the 'p'.

They walk past him and Kai whips around, jaw dropped. "Waaaaaiiit a minute... You two are finally a thing?! Lloyd so owes me 20 bucks."

#bruh #i haven't posted anything since February #I'm so sorry #please take this lmao #bruiseshipping #ninjagoprideweek2019 #I'll reblog with ao3 and Fanfiction links tomorrow #ninjago cole #ninjago jay

[timespanner]

Earth. They called it that, because they were standing on it.

Putting together some (too many?) words on The Dan in the High Castle, before it falls off the iPlayer in just a little over a week. 

(Speaking of which, you might want to have your say on the future of the iPlayer - you know, just in case you’d like to stop your favourite shows from disappearing into the void after a measly thirty-day time span.)

Here be spoilers. Consider yourselves warned.

If there is one good thing that’s come out of having to wait two long years for Time Spanner 2, it’s that we all time-travelled to Martin Gay’s future in the meantime. (Everything’s a very slow time machine, if you think about it.) 

The new episode starts right where we left off, only with Laika the Dead Space Dog doing a quick recap of - well, you know, everything. It’s been two years after all, and the pilot episode’s no longer on the iPlayer (though you might want to try here, if you haven’t already.)

As Laika quite rightly points out, the exact logic of the Angel’s plan - tasking our feckless hero with stealing the Time Spanner, and then using it to bring back some unspecified technology from the future in order to save the world - has yet to be tested. Even more so when the Angel reluctantly admits to the true nature of said technology - a flesh-eating death laser, which she claims ‘is to be used only for good’. (Which, for some reason, keeps reminding me of that JFSP sketch featuring a young Hitler, and a time machine. Oh, well.)

As the story develops, the Angel seems to be gradually losing her aura of aloofness and power - not only does she appear somewhat bumbling at times, but she also sounds a tad jealous of Gabbie’s role in Martin’s life, such as it may be. We also find out what happened at Kraken Self-Storage: the explosion towards the end of the previous episode was caused by the Metatron, who blew up Mr Kraken’s scrying glass from the Heaven’s end - yikes, indeed - and there are now factions of angry Not-People (angels? some other supernatural beings?) after our Angel/Muse/Lady Wizard, and possibly Martin Gay, soon. 

(I am aware I’m most likely reading too much into this, but I find it quite intriguing that the aforementioned factions call themselves ‘The Usual’. You know, what with Martin mentioning he’s ‘the usual, thirty-eight’ in the pilot episode - apparently forgetting he’s a whole two years older than that. But hey, this is probably just me, so you might as well ignore this bit.)

We also learn that, along with granting its bearer the power to travel through all of time and space, the Time Spanner also serves as a means of communication between the transcendental dimension and the physical plane; either by functioning as some sort of transceiver implanted straight into your brain, or by turning any old mirror into an otherworldly version of FaceTime - provided that you mark said mirror with a sigil, that is. 

(Apparently, any and all sigils would do, but for some reason the Angel sees fit to start with a swastika, only to end up having to hastily reassure a rightfully indignant Martin that she definitely, definitely didn’t give the Time Spanner to Hitler. Which is even funnier in the context of the episode’s title being a reference to The Man in the High Castle, as I believe we can safely assume.)

And yes, the future. As rubbish as 2018 looks to Gabbie and Martin’s eyes - and heaven knows they’re not that wrong - things are not as bleak as they appear to be at first glance. The Nazis didn’t take over, or at least, Dan(iel) Kraken didn’t - he may have been made a Lord, but his overzealous Yellowcoats are a mere private security force, and the titular ‘high castle’ turns out to be nothing more than a flat in Vauxhall. 

(While it’s true that I do not know enough about South London to fully appreciate the extent of this joke, the whole ‘that’s Vauxhall’ exchange is one of my favourite parts of the entire episode. Lord Kraken and Gabbie are truly wonderful throughout this scene, especially when addressing one another - and may I just say, David Mitchell and London Hughes did a pretty amazing job there, which is really quite something when you consider how talented the entire cast is.)

And here we find Mr Mergatroid as well, who’s apparently been in the service of Lord Kraken for the past two years. Oh, and it (he?) has also been holding on to Martin’s shoes for all this time, which means our hero can finally stop wandering about shoeless; and while he’s not getting future shoes like Gabbie suggested at the beginning, he’s still getting his past shoes back from the future, which is - significant, somehow?

(On a somewhat related note, how did Lord Kraken successfully locate Gabbie’s phone - in the future? Do phones still work when you suddenly jump two years ahead of when you last paid your bill? Am I just fixating on an entirely irrelevant detail for no reason?)

So, yeah. Daniel Kraken may be little more than a rich (and possibly disturbed) individual, but he does seem to be perfectly fine with using force to extract the truth of what Martin saw on the other side of his magic mirror. Which in turn leads to some interesting questions about the morality of Gabbie’s choices at the end: Kraken is not lying when he says he didn’t kidnap Martin two years ago, but he did technically hold him there against his will, and while he never had the time to use force, it’s reasonable to assume that he would have done - does he deserve to be arrested, then? (To be fair, I’m just as terrible at this kind of question as Martin is when asked what he wants to do, so let’s just leave it at that.)

But let’s not jump ahead of ourselves. We finally get another very interesting piece of information, which is that the Angel is not only capable of opening a portal that will bring you back to the real world, but also a portal to any (?) chosen point in time and space. (Incidentally, if on November 3rd, 2016 Martin skipped eight hours of his life to get to six o’clock in the afternoon, that means the first episode took place around, let’s say, ten in the morning? Well, its ending, anyway.) At least now we know how on earth she expected Martin to be able to bring those ‘ideas’ (or weapons, as they may be) back from his world’s future, when she spent the better part of the first episode claiming that you cannot travel backwards in time. (Never mind that Martin proved her wrong by travelling all the way back to the Big Bang, and then out the other side. Cool.)

And then - those final five minutes are such an emotional rollercoaster that I was left reeling in the aftermath of my first listen. The Time Spanner’s broken, so the only way they have to go back to 2016 is through the portal 'Bridget’ opens up for them; only then she claims she will remain trapped in the mirror until the sigil is erased, and my goodness, that moment when Martin volunteers to stay behind - well. (I’m so proud of him, I tell you.)

Martin’s trapped, and then he isn’t, as 2018 Gabbie shows up in a Yellowcoats uniform, and rescues him. I’m so here for this now twenty-two-year-old badass coming in to save the day, and that’s even without taking into account how much ‘time travel story where character A has to wait for n years to be reunited with character B’ is my cup of tea. 

(Speaking of which, might I interest you in this lovely and quite touching audio play written by Peter Davis of Monster Hunters fame? That’s the first thing that came into my mind right after this whole scene played out, anyway.)

And then - oh my days, that ending.

“But Gabbie, the Time Spanner’s broken.”

“Everything’s broken. Fix it! Oh, sorry, am I sounding old and grumpy?”

“Everyone gets hopeless.”

“Ha! Who said that? Was it someone amazing?”

That’s one of the most inspiring, life-affirming bits of writing I’ve listened to in a long time. We can but hope that not only Martin and Gabbie will succeed in making the world a better place, but that we the listeners will somehow do, too.

#Time Spanner #Time Spanner 2 #The Dan in the High Castle #meta #episode discussion #spoilers #seriously - back away if you haven't listened to the episode yet

[imnotinclinedtomaturity]

Love Yourself (Chapter 11)

title: Love Yourself summary: A lot of things about Dan’s life are pretty great. He gets to make the music he wants, he’s got a great fanbase, and his manager is his best friend. A few things about his life suck a bit more. He’s currently lacking inspiration, he’s rather lonely, and he’s stuck in a rut. Dan’s been going to the same coffee shop for years. It’s quiet, it’s quaint, it’s near his home. Most importantly: none of the employees give a shit that’s he a world-famous singer. Things change when he meets the new barista. chapter words: 6.8k story words: 66.1k (so far) chapter: 11/? rating: m warnings: language, alcohol, sex mentions genre: singer!dan, coffee shop au, barista!phil, slow burn [[ao3]] [[first chapter]] [[previous chapter]]

a/n: thank you very much to @auroraphilealis for reading and editing this chapter, especially today when she was feeling overwhelmed from work. this chapter took a little longer to publish because i got wrapped up in the oneshot i posted (read here if you want!). also, you’ll notice that i included a link -- it’s not *technically* nsfw but it’s close, just fyi lol (you don’t have to look at it, just included it for those who were curious)

The next morning, Dan woke up with a start. Faintly, he thought he heard the ding of his lift door, but he was almost certain that he’d dreamt it until —

“Oh, Dannnniel!”

A cheery, high voice trilled throughout the flat, echoing in the early morning silence. Dan’s eyes flew open in surprise, just for a moment, before stubbornly fluttering shut again. He’d been up well past four in the morning the night before. Whoever was here would just have to kindly fuck off.

Dan rolled onto his stomach in defiance, burying his face in his pillow in a hazy attempt to hide from whoever had shown up completely uninvited. In his half asleep stupor, Dan tried to muddle through his thoughts long enough to try to figure out who was here, if he had plans that he’d forgotten about, what time it even was. Dan peeked a reluctant eye out of the darkness of his pillow and was greeted by the sun drifting in through his curtains, so it must not be that early. It felt like the blasted sunlight was trying to cajole him into facing the day, but Dan was pretty adamant about doing the exact opposite.

Especially after last night’s epiphany.

And the subsequent hours spent worrying about it.

Nope. For now, Dan would hide in bed. As long. As humanly. Possible.

“Daniel, dearest? Where arrrrrre you?” The singsong voice drifted closer as whoever it was moved further into the apartment.

Dan bit back a groan, not wanting to give away his location before he hand to. Why hadn’t he locked his bedroom door last night? Oh right, he lived alone and that was a stupid thing to do.

It’s not like he was expecting someone to show up at — he glanced at the clock — ten in the morning.

Well, on second thought, it wasn’t that early. At least not to the rest of the world. It felt like it might as well have been daybreak for how tired Dan felt, but most people didn’t share his affinity for staying up well into the night to contemplate life, its meaning, his place in the world… Jesus, there he went again.

Blearily, Dan tried to remember if he had any morning plans, other than going to Beans and Grind. He was fairly certain that he didn’t technically have anything scheduled until his dinner with Isabella that night.

Oh fuck.

That’d better not be Isabella.

Realistically, Dan knew that there were only a small handful of his friends and family that even had access to his apartment, so the intruder could really only be a small number of people — unfortunately, one of whom was his dearly beloved.

And he really didn’t want to see her right now.

Dan groaned quietly and pulled the covers over his head, as if practically suffocating himself in his own pillow wasn’t enough. He listened for the telltale click clack of heels that always accompanied Isabella, but the flat was shockingly quiet.

He couldn’t cope with seeing her right now. Not half-awake, not before coffee, not before he’d figured out how he was going to handle things. He’d tried to come up with a solution all fucking night, but he just couldn’t. Why had he waited to come to such a strong realization the night before Valentine’s Day? He couldn’t have waited one more fucking day to finally get his head on straight?

(Or, well, maybe straight was the wrong word, all things considered).

Valentine’s Day was the one day of the year that absolutely everyone agreed that dumping someone was completely unacceptable.

And, yet, here Dan was, unable to stomach thinking about spending another five bloody minutes in his girlfriend’s company. It was just his luck that Isabella had planned a big fucking romantic dinner for them tonight.

Dan sunk deeper into his bedsheets, dreading the thought of Isabella appearing in his room.

The flat was still silent, though — peaceful, even. Not a mood he usually associated with Isabella. Whoever it was, they’d stopped screaming for him. He didn’t hear any heels clacking, or even anyone moving around outside of his door. Despite the low hum of panic coursing through his body, sleep pulled at Dan, lulling him into the false sense of security that maybe, just maybe he might have dreamed the intruder. He let his eyes flutter closed again, blissfully choosing to ignore the world.

“Lazy boy, there are you!”

Jesus.

Dan tensed up in reaction. The bed gave a quiet squeak as someone sat down, causing him to slip towards them. Refusing to look up and finally face today just yet, Dan took in a deep breath of air, air tinged with roses and lilacs and lilies — Louise.

He let out a sigh of relief, body going boneless against his sheets. He could handle Louise. Of all of the people who could have been in his apartment at ten in the morning on Valentine’s Day — especially when he was this fucking tired still — Louise was by far the best option. He smiled into his pillow, and relaxed against her thigh, where he’d shifted when she’d slid into bed with him.

“Morning, Lou,” Dan murmured, face still muffled by the pillow. He felt her hand land in his hair, petting softly.

“Morning, Danny Boy. Wakey, wakey. It’s Valentine’s Day!” Louise still sounded annoyingly chipper for so early in the morning.

“Valentine’s Day is cancelled. Can it just be tomorrow already?” Dan moaned, rolling over, accidentally knocking Louise’s hand from his head. Too distressed about his own predicament to be upset at losing Louise’s comfort, Dan stared blankly at the ceiling.

“Nope! We have a best friends brunch date that you’re not getting out of, and while we’re eating, you can tell me why you’re being a grumpy goose,” Louise chastised.

“Brunch?” Finally, something good for today. Dan perked up in interest, raising himself onto his elbows to better see her. “We had brunch plans?”

“Not that you knew about, love,” Louise reassured him camly. “I just figured it would be nice to do something for breakfast since I’m sure we both have plans tonight.”

Louise was a good friend. No matter what was going on in their lives — professionally or personally — she always deliberately made time for just the two of them to spend together. He should have known she’d have something up her sleeve for Valentine’s Day.

Dan smiled, unabashedly pushing back the covers, finally feeling like today might be a day worth facing after all. The chilly apartment air hit his bare chest, and he was tempted to pull the duvet back over himself, curl up in bed, and never get up. But Louise was beaming at him, dressed in a pink sweater with a matching pink bow in her hair, looking excited, and against all odds, Dan was looking forward to their morning, too.

Apparently, though, Dan was too slow at getting out of bed because she started swatting at his shoulders with one hand, bundling the blankets towards her with her other.

“Okay, okay. I’m coming,” Dan whined petulantly, sending Louise a grateful smile so she knew he was kidding (mostly). He pushed himself out of bed and made his way to his closet before realizing he had no idea what to put on because he was missing a key piece of information. “Where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise!”

Rolling his eyes, Dan turned back around to face Louise. “Can I get a dress code, at least? Otherwise I’m just wearing this,” Dan motioned down to the tight black Calvin Klein’s he was wearing.

“I’m sure plenty of the world would be excited about that, but I’d prefer you put something else on.” Louise’s eyes were twinkling, and she reached down to grab something resting out of Dan’s site on the floor. When she straightened back up, Dan saw that it was a shopping bag, and it looked fancy.

“Lou...” Dan warned warily. He’d had plenty of experience with Louise buying him things. To be fair, he always ended up loving them, but she had a tendency to… push his style comfort sometimes.

“For you!” Louise cooed, passing him the bag. “Black jeans are fine to wear with it. I’ll be in the lounge. Don’t take too long!”

Before Dan could protest, Louise was jumping down from his bed, and walking briskly from his room.

Half expecting Louise to poke her head back around the doorway to see his reaction, Dan waited until Louise’s footsteps faded out of site to open the bag. Pink. Everything he saw was pink. Warily, Dan pulled the garment out of the bag and held it up, assessing just how bad whatever he’d apparently agreed to was.

Truthfully, it wasn’t hideous. It was just… pink. A muted, light pink sweater edged with blocky black trim. Looking more closely, Dan saw that it was almost sheer and had a very faint pixelated heart pattern. If it weren’t for the fact that it wasn’t black, Dan would almost concede that it was very much his style.

If he was going to wear something outside of the monochrome rainbow, it seemed fitting for it to be something soft, but a little bit ostentatious. But even if he did hate it, he’d probably still wear it without a fight, just to make Louise happy.

Dan pulled the bright garment over his head, and searched for his nearest pair of trousers. Strewn across the armchair were his black jeans, the ones with massive rips across the thighs and knees. They might be cold but they kind of leaned into the slightly-edgy aesthetic of the pink sweater, so it felt like a good choice. Once they were on, Dan paused in front of the mirror and ruffled his hair, quickly rubbing a bit of product in it to tame the curls ever so slightly.

Good enough.

Deciding he didn’t care to try any harder to look nice, Dan shoved his wallet and keys into his pocket, grabbed his coat off the back of his bedroom door, and headed into the lounge to find Louise.

“There you are, my handsome best friend.”

��Shut up, Louise. You’re lucky I love you,” Dan grumbled, making an effort to sound more annoyed than he really was. His mock-annoyance couldn’t last long though; Louise had placed black and white flowers on his bar cart. She’d allowed him to keep some part of his dark aesthetic today and, really, the flowers looked lovely. He really loved flowers — enough so that he bought them for himself sometimes. But there was something about having someone else buy them for him that made the flowers feel extra special. .

He smiled, washing away the exaggeratedly bitter grimace. “No Darcy today?”

“Nope!” Louise stood up and pulled on a dark pink trench coat that she’d must of tossed over Dan’s sofa when she’d first got in. Dan spotted his notebook on the armrest, and tucked it into the inner pocket of his jacket on a whim. Just in case. “Tom is being a good boyfriend and taking care of her so that you and I can do something together.”

“Oh that’s nice of him,” Dan agreed. “Who’s watching her tonight, then?”

Dan crossed his fingers, praying that perfect mother Louise had forgotten to hire a sitter that night, that she would need someone — Dan, for example — to last minute take care of Darcy.

“Tom’s sister. She’s single, so the poor dear didn’t have anything to do tonight anyway. It was actually rather nice of her to offer.”

“Why didn’t you ask me?”

Louise gave him a confused look over her shoulder as she pushed the button to call the lift. “I assumed you had plans with… your girlfriend.” Louise’s voice was forcefully chipper, but there was a tinge of confusion to it, as if she didn’t quite understand why Dan was so offended.

Shoulders slumping in defeat, Dan nodded his head. “Oh, right. Yeah, Isabella.”

Louise looked downright confused, now, and she stared suspiciously at Dan while they waited for the lift to arrive.

“You do have plans with her tonight, right?” Louise asked, sounding a bit outraged.

“Yeah, yeah of course,” Dan reassured her. ”She’s flying in from Turks and Caicos specially for dinner,” he continued, unable to keep the dread out of his voice as he realized just how much of a mess he was actually in.

Louise’s eyebrows shot up in surprise at his tone.

“Someone sounds excited,” she teased .

“Shut up, Lou. No one asked your opinion,” Dan grumbled,

Louise rolled her eyes as the lift doors opened, and the two of them stepped inside. “Right, because if you had asked for my opinion, you would have broken up with her ages ago.”

Dan grimaced — Louise had hit a little too close to home with that jab — and his cheeks flushed red in embarrassment. He’d planned to talk to Louise about his revelation about Isabella at some point, but he hadn’t exactly meant to make his distaste for tonight’s plan quite so clear. At least not this early ino brunch.

Apparently, his expression wasn’t missed by Louise, however.

“Daniel. James. Howell.” She gasped. “What is that look about?” she asked, sounding entirely too happy for someone who was speculating about the demise of Dan’s nearly year-long relationship. But then again, she had never taken any efforts to hide her hatred for Isabella in the past, so her gleeful attitude now shouldn’t be that surprising.

Groaning as he realized he wasn’t quite awake enough to deal with this just yet , Dan stabbed the ground floor button, and crossed his arms defensively over his chest. “Can this wait until brunch please?” he begged.

Louise narrowed her eyes. “Fine. But you are telling me everything as soon as we have mimosas.”

“And coffee,” Dan added. Fuck, he really needed coffee.

************

Louise kept her promise. The entire walk to the mysterious brunch place, she chatted about Darcy and what she’d been doing in school lately, how cute it was to see her making friends with the new boy, and ‘experimenting with fashion’. Dan laughed and, just for a moment, let himself forget his own problems. The lives of Louise and Darcy caused Dan a lot less stress to think about, and he relished the distraction. The moment the waiter left from delivering mimosas and coffee, however, Louise abandoned her topics and turned on Dan.

“Okay, spill. What’s going on with you and what’s her face?”

“You know her name,” Dan said, rolling his eyes and giving Louise an exasperated look.

“Unfortunately,” she muttered, not bothering to hide her distaste. “Now, talk. Because it sounds like you’re finally fed up with her after months of me telling you she wasn’t worth your time— or anyone’s, really — and if that’s not the case, I’d rather you crush my dreams sooner than later.”

Dan sighed, and picked up his coffee, savoring a sip as he tried to decide where to start. He hadn’t exactly been anticipating talking about this any time soon, and he’d only just realized himself last night. Louise wasn’t wrong though, not by any means. Dan just had no idea how to tell her that she was right.

He huffed a sigh, rubbing his hands down his face. No better place to begin than with the whole root of the epiphany, he supposed.

“Well, I was incredibly productive last night. I wrote the entire instrumental part of a song, and have a mess of lyrics to go with it.”

“That’s great, but focus please.” Louise snapped her fingers in front of his face, trying to get him to stay on topic.

“No—” Dan cut himself off, struggling to figure out how to vocalize everything he was feeling and thinking. This was why he was a musician. So that he could express himself with something more than just talking.

Music. Right. Dan twisted around in his chair and groped the breast pocket of his coat — good, his song notebook was there. Maybe just showing Louise would be easier. Dan dug the notebook out of his jacket, flinging it onto the table in between them in lieu of a proper response.

“Isabella first, music second,” Louise warned sternly.

“I promise it all connects. Just read read what I wrote,” Dan pleaded.

Eyeing him suspiciously, Louise picked up the notebook and flipped to the last page.

Dan averted his gaze, studiously reading the menu while Louise read. Doing his best to ignore his anxiety at Louise reading what, essentially, amounted to a confession, Dan did his best to focus on brunch.

Did he want something sweet or savory for breakfast this morning? If he was having dinner with anyone but Isabella tonight, he’d assume that they’d have dessert then, but, well. He wasn’t.

Pancakes, then.

Dan snuck a glance up at Louise. She was still engrossed in the notebook.

Secretly, Dan was a little self-satisfied that Louise — Louise, the most talkative person he knew — was rendered completely silent for three full minutes.

Finally, finally she pulled her eyes from the page and looked up at Dan.

“This is some heavy shit.”

“I know.” Dan agreed.

“What’s it about?”

Dan gave her an incredulous look. “What do you think it’s about?”

Louise was silent for another moment, contemplating the notebook again. Her perfectly pink lip was drawn into her mouth; knowing Louise’s luck, she was probably getting lipstick on her teeth. Eventually, Louise turned her attention back to Dan

“Wanting someone you can’t have.” Louise’s tone was neutral, guarded even. Dan shrugged, silently telling her that she was close enough. “And you wrote this last night?”

Dan nodded again.

Louise didn’t ask any more follow up questions. Apparently, she was waiting for Dan to explain on his own. The problem was, Dan didn’t know how to explain. He didn’t know how to admit that he was wrong, that he’d finally fucking seen what his mother, his sister, Louise had all seen from the get go. He hated being wrong. He didn’t want to say it. Not out loud.

So he didn’t.

“Phil,” Dan said instead.

“...Phil?” Louise repeated flatly, looking flabbergasted by the seeming shift in the conversation.

“Phil,” Dan confirmed.

Louise nodded slightly, looking back down at the lyrics. When she looked up again, there was a smile threatening to break across her face. “And Isabella?”

“Ugh,” Dan groaned. “Isabella can go fuck herself.”

The smile that was tugging at Louise’s lips spread into a wide grin. “Thank fuck, Daniel!”

“I know. I know. I haven’t —” Dan was cut off by their waiter arriving.

“May I take your orders?”

Dan nudged Louise’s menu at her because he suspected she hadn’t made a decision yet. “I’ll have the mixed berry pancakes, please.” He glanced at his coffee cup. “And some more coffee when you have a moment.”

“Of course, sir.” The waiter turned to Louise. “And for you, miss?”

“Oh!” Louise exclaimed, eyes still roaming the page. “I’ll have pancakes as well. These ones here with the chocolate, please.” She glanced at Dan, pointing at their nearly empty mimosas. Dan nodded emphatically. “And another round of mimosas. Actually, whenever you see that we’re out of mimosas, we’d like another round. We’re celebrating!”

“Yes,” The waiter smiled fakely. “Today is the celebration of love.”

Dan waited until the waiter had taken their menus and was out of earshot before he added, “More like the celebration of love dying, mate.”

Louise giggled. “So love dying, eh? Tell me more. How did you finally get to this realization?”

“God, I don’t even know honestly. I haven’t felt like myself in months and I’ve just been so fucking busy that I haven’t figured out why and... Izzy’s been out of town for almost two weeks, which has been… great, to say the least.”

“You mean distance doesn’t make the heart grow strong when the only thing you’re interested in is sex?” Louise asked sarcastically.

“I know, I know. Shocking isn’t it?” Dan joked back. “But anyways, so last night I was skyping with Phil —” Dan brushed over Louise’s attempt to interrupt and ask about that “— and I felt so fucking comfortable and myself again. And I wrote that whole song in like an hour. I haven’t written that way in years.”

“I know you haven’t.” Louise agreed consolingly.

“And I just — fuck.” Dan smacked his head on the table, wallowing for a moment before pulling back up and starting to take a drink of his mimosa, only to remember that it was empty. His hand shifted over, grabbing his coffee mug, only to disappointedly realize that was empty, too. Luckily, he saw the waiter approaching.

As the man brought over a tray with two more mimosas and another cup of coffee, Dan fleetingly wondered how things might have been different this past year if he hadn’t been dating Isabella. Would he have written more music? Done more of the things he liked to do? Been able to enjoy his new flat more?

“God,” Dan continued. “She’s so fucking self-obsessed, and so fucking concentrated on fame and being in the spotlight and going out all the fucking time, and I just hate all of those things so fucking much. I just want to focus on music.”

Louise bit back a giggle. Dan could tell that she was feeling incredibly smug, but he appreciated her restraint from being patronizing.

“I know,” Louise sympathized. “I’ve been watching you struggle to balance focusing on yourself and your music with managing all of Isabella’s demands since you got together. It’s looked… tiring.”

“Yes! And I’m fucking exhausted of it now. How the fuck am I supposed to —” the end of Dan’s sentence was interrupted by the waiter arriving once again, this time with their food.

There was a silent agreement to drop the conversation for a moment so that they could focus on their food. Taking turns, Dan and Louise tried each of their pancakes, exchanging tastes of each other’s meals. They both agreed that Dan’s mixed berry topping was good, but it wasn’t nearly as amazing as the chocolate streusel on Louise’s

“So now what?” Louise asked as she popped another bite into her mouth.

Dan looked at her, a bit lost. Still chewing, Louise raised her eyebrows, nudging her head at Dan imploringly.

Right. His conundrum.

“So now I dump her,” Dan said simply, shrugging his shoulders and stealing another bite off of Louise’s plate. Louise didn’t react, just as Dan knew she wouldn’t. She was far too used to Dan stealing her food.

“Yes!” Louise cheered. “I’ll happily pay for your uber to her flat after brunch!”

Dan choked on the food in his mouth. He fumbled for his drink, downing half of his mimosa in one swallow. When he finally had control of his breath again, he turned back to Louise, affronted. “What the fuck, Lou?”

Louise looked taken aback by his outburst, her eyebrows high on her forehead and her eyes wide. “What? What?”

“Are you insane? I can’t break up with her today!”

Louise’s shock turned incredulous. “And why, pray tell, not?”

“That’s such a dick move! Valentine’s Day is the one day of the year that the entire fucking world agrees is supposed to be about romance. You know, the opposite of breaking up. You can’t dump someone on Valentine’s Day! Or at least not without a really, really good reason.”

“Um, she’s a massive bitch and has treated you like crap for almost a year. I think that’s a really, really good reason.”

“I said no, Lou,” Dan snapped. “I’ll do it tomorrow. I’ll ask her to breakfast before she flies off to… wherever she’s supposed to go tomorrow night and… just do it then.” Dan said apathetically as he swirled the contents of his mimosa around. “I have no idea how I’m going to stomach tonight’s date. God, it’s going to suck.”

“Good luck with that, love.” Louise said rather facetiously and not quite as sympathetically as Dan was hoping for. “Do you want to —”

“Oh fuck,” Dan cut her off, suddenly remembering something. “I haven’t gotten her a present.”

“Good?” Louise responded, confused.

“No! Not good!” Dan exclaimed indignantly. “That means I have to get her something now. Today! I have to buy her something when I know I’m breaking up with her tomorrow. I can’t buy her anything too nice because one, I refuse to spend that kind of money on her and two, that will only get her hopes up. But if it’s too shitty, she’ll get mad and it will be a whole thing.”

“Dan, sweetie.” Louise said slowly, as if she were trying to explain something to a child. Her eyes twinkled with mirth. “Maybe you should take the fact that you even procrastinated buying a present until today as a sign that you shouldn’t be postponing breaking up with her until tomorrow morning.”

“No.” Dan’s voice came out harsher, tenser, than he intended. He tried to soften it. “It’s… I can’t do that. Okay? I’ve done my own share of shitty things to her. I don’t need to add to it.” Dan tapped his unused spoon on the table rapidly.

When Louise just looked at him blankly, perplexed, Dan continued.

“She’s mad about how much time I spend with Phil, about how we interact on twitter — I’ve told you that,” Dan tried to explain, his words rushed. “How do you think she’d react if she knew what we’re like in person? How flirty we are? The fact that we’ve both somehow seen each other shirtless? The fact that I’ve sat in his lap?”

Dan hung his head, defeated. His voice grew meeker and less heated. “But she’s right. She has every right to be mad. I’m no better than her. I don’t get to stand on some moral high ground and use her shitty behavior as an excuse for breaking up with her on the most romantic day of the year, not when I’ve been just as shitty.”

“I…” Louise floundered for a moment. “I didn’t realize things had gone that far with Phil.”

“I told you Louise,” Dan said tightly.

“I know you did. I didn’t know your feelings were that serious, though. I thought, hoped even, that they might be. But I didn’t know.” Louise reached out and covered Dan’s hands with her own, effectively stilling the tapping of the spoon.

Did it matter? Did it matter what Dan’s feelings or intentions had been? His behavior was the same: shitty.

“What?” Dan snapped, picking up his glass with the hand Louise was holding. “And all the flirting was okay when I didn’t think I was head over fucking heels for the guy, but the second I realize I might fucking love him, suddenly the behavior is unacceptable? I don’t think so, Louise. I think it was always toeing the line of something very, very dangerous. Even when I just thought it was a schoolgirl crush.”

“I guess you’re right,” Louise relented, briefly thumbing his cheek. “I’m just biased when it comes to you. I know that you have a heart of gold and wouldn’t intentionally do anything to hurt anyone.”

Dan shrugged but didn’t respond.

Louise was silent for a moment, staring at Dan like she was trying to read his soul. Self consciously, Dan averted his gaze, flitting his eyes around the room and taking in all of the nauseatingly heart-themed decor. It wasn’t exactly the reminder that Dan was looking for at this moment in time.

“Those are some big words, Daniel.”

Dan was tempted to play dumb, to pretend that he didn’t know what Louise was referring to. But his own words were bouncing around his head, echoing loudly in the vast numbness of his current mind. Crush. Head over heels. Love.

“I know,” Dan acquiesced, knowing he couldn’t avoid this conversation any more than he could the one about Isabella.

“So what about him?” Louise asked gently, more tender than she’d been thus far.

Dan chewed on his lip, pulling his gaze away from Louise and poking his fork at the remnants of his pancakes.

“What about Phil?” Louise repeated.

“I don’t know.” Dan huffed, still staring downward and fiddling with his cutlery.

Louise slapped Dan’s notebook against the table, effectively startling Dan into attention. “What do you mean you don’t know about Phil?” she asked fiercely. “According to this song, you very much know about Phil.”

“Look, Louise. You know I’m not great at dating. I’m either too distant and aloof, or I dive all in. And I dove all in with Isabella and it went to shit.”

“It went to shit because Isabella is shit.” Louise pointed out.

“I get that, but also I trusted her. I believed her when she said she loved me — when she said that she loved me for me, regardless of me being famous. Which, in hindsight, was not true.”

“How is this all connecting to Phil?”

Dan hesitated, shifting his sight back down to the table and running his cloth napkin through his hands. When he spoke, his voice came out smaller than he anticipated. “What if I’m wrong again?”

“Love,” Louise cooed, “it sounds like that boy is the sweetest, most genuine person on the planet. You really think he’d try to use you like Isabella did?”

“I mean, no. Not really. Not deep down anyway. But there’s still this gnawing fear about it.” Dan shoved his plate back some and drank the last bit of his coffee. Louise waited patiently for him to go on. “Besides, I don’t think I’m good enough for him.”

“Dan, you have made a lot of bad choices with relationships recently, but you deserve to be happy.”

“It’s not that — I mean, maybe it is a little. I was so fucking vulnerable in this relationship and it backfired and... Mostly it’s that I don’t think I’m in a good mindset to be anyone’s anything right this moment. And Phil — Phil could be the real fucking deal and I’m terrified of messing that up because I jump in too quickly.”

“So do you think you just need to take a little time to yourself first?”

“Maybe,” Dan hummed. “I mean. Yes. Definitely.” Dan nodded, more sure of his choice. “I just feel like I need to be on my own for a little bit, maybe work on myself.”

“I thought you hated being single, Mr. I Love Sex and Affection?” Louise sounded genuinely impressed beneath the teasing.

“I do,” Dan said with a smirk.

“But you’re willing to wait?”

“I want to, need to do this right.” Dan steeled himself, decision made. “And the right way to do it is to fucking figure my own shit out and deal with all this mess from Isabella before I just dive into Phil.”

Louise smiled, looking proud. “When did you get to be so emotionally mature, Daniel?”

“Shut up,” Dan muttered bashfully. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Whatever you say.” Louise swallowed the last bit of her mimosa.

Feeling a bit better about his shit situation, Dan leaned back in his chair, sighing deeply. Everything was going to be okay.

“Dan?”

“Yeah?”

“One last thing, and then I swear we can move on, okay?”

Dan sighed. “Okay, let’s hear it.”

“Just don’t wait too long? He seems like a good egg, and I don’t want you to lose him because you’re scared.”

Dan blanched. He knew she was right. He knew he couldn’t keep Phil on the line forever. He didn’t want to do that either. He just needed to… to… sort himself out.

“I won’t, I promise.”

True to her word, Louise dropped the subject for the rest of brunch, letting their conversation drift to only the fun and salacious parts of their lives. Dan filled Louise in on his sister’s most recent boyfriend (the consensus was that he sounded okay), and Louise turned a shade of deep red while describing the failed position she and Tom had tried in the bedroom (why either of them looked at a position called the butter churner and decided to try it was beyond Dan).

It wasn’t until they paid their check and finished the last drops of their fourth — or fifth? — mimosa that Dan’s love life came up again — this time by his own doing.

“Louise, I hate to ask this, but can you please please please come to a jewelry shop with me? I have no idea what you’re supposed to get your girlfriend for Valentine’s Day when you’re planning to break up with her the next day,” Dan whined.

“How about nothing?” Louise suggested bitterly.

Dan shot her a stern look as he pulled his coat on and wrapped his scarf around his neck.

“Fine, fine. Maybe Tiffany’s sells a necklace that you can engrave with we’re over.” Louise snickered.

“Hilarious.” Dan said through his teeth, pulling her down the street towards the shops. He was thankful that Louise had picked a brunch place on high street. “Like fuck are we going to somewhere as expensive as Tiffany’s. You have a fifty pound budget and it has to be returnable, just in case.”

“Someone’s feeling generous,” Louise muttered sarcastically.

“I’m doing the best I can, okay?” Dan stuck his tongue out at Louise, happy to at least be able to do such a shitty task with his best friend.

“Fine, fine,” Louise conceded, starting to look around more seriously for a place they could shop. “How about this one?” she asked, tugging Dan into a jeweller that was packed with desperate looking men and women, staring down at the cases like they were a life raft in the middle of the ocean. Louise dragged Dan over to the clearance counter, waving her hand politely at the saleswoman.

She finished up with the man she’d just finished ringing up, and headed over to Dan and Louise.

“Hello, how can I help you today?”

“Hi!” Louise smiled brightly. “He’d like to buy the nicest thing you have under fifty pounds that isn’t final sale, please.”

The woman’s eyes widened a little, but her tone remained that token customer-service cheerful. “We have a few options, I’m sure. What are you looking for sir? A necklace? Perhaps some earrings or a ring?”

“No!” Dan almost shouted. “Definitely not a ring. Literally anything but a ring.”

Dan looked at Louise and muttered under his breath, “I’d buy her a fucking broach before I bought her a ring.” Louise muffled her laughter into Dan’s shoulder and he had to cover his hand to quiet his own giggles.

The woman gave them a suspicious look but bent down to unlock the counter anyway, selected a few pieces of jewelry with her gloved hands, and placed them on a velvet tray.

“Here you are, sir. I hope one of these will be to your liking.” The saleswoman sat the tray down on the table for Dan to look at.

Unsurprisingly, there weren’t too many options. Dan knew that fifty pounds was an incredibly low budget, especially for a proper jewelry store, he just… didn’t care. He didn’t want to spend a single pence more than he had to on this.

Dan pulled the tray down the table some, moving away from the clearance rack, where it seemed a few people were competing to look. Louise moved with him, hovering over the options the woman had pulled out for them, and contemplating each piece.

“The earrings are nice and delicate, but the necklace is a bit gaudy,” Louise hummed.

Dan eyed the two pieces. The earrings were nice — they were simple gold studs with tiny pearls. The necklace, on the other hand, was a large, round, black onyx pendant on a chunky gold chain. The color of the chain clashed horrendously with the pendant, even Dan knew enough about women’s jewelry to know that.

“Great,” Dan pushed the tray back towards the saleswoman. “We’ll take the necklace, then.”

Both the saleswoman and Louise looked at Dan in shock. Louise sputtered, but the saleswoman tried to regain her composure, and finally said, “Wonderful! We’ve had this… special piece for a while now. Would you like me to gift wrap it for you?”

“Please,” Dan smiled, fluttering his eyes and pretending not to catch on to the woman’s subtle implications that the necklace was, in fact, hideous.

She wasn’t wrong. Dan just didn’t care. In fact, that was kind of the point.

While the saleswoman wrapped up the atrocious necklace, Louise poured over the cases and Dan fiddled on his phone. He noticed that Phil had DM’d him on twitter earlier.

Phil Lester: Hey! I thought you were coming by today?

Dan smiled, happy to discover that Phil still wanted to see him today. On Valentine’s Day of all days. Dan was quick to type a message back, not even bothering to censor his enthusiasm.

Daniel Howell: i will! Louise showed up for surprise brunch though, so i’ll be there on my way back from the shops

The saleswoman came back, setting the wrapped box on the counter in front of Dan with a forced smile. “Anything else, sir?”

“Sorry, do you mind if I see those earrings?” Louise interrupted, pointing to a pair of pretty flower earrings with diamonds for petals.

“Of course, miss.”

The earrings were even more beautiful up close. The center of the flower was a delicate, dimpled gold. They were earrings that Dan would easily consider buying for his mother or sister — he could see why Louise liked them.

“Dan, Dan, look how lovely they are,” Louise cooed.

“They are nice. I like the diamonds.”

“They’re actually part of our Mommy & Me collection,” the saleswoman said as she pulled out a pair of earrings from a neighboring case that neither of them had noticed. The earrings were similar to the first pair, but were smaller and had green stones instead of diamonds.

“Oh my gosh!” Louise gushed. “That’s so precious. Can you imagine Darcy and I running about in matching earrings?”

Dan smiled. “You both would look so adorable.”

“How much are they?” Louise asked.

“The Mommy ones are two-fifty and the daughter ones are one-fifty.”

Louise physically recoiled. “That’s too much,” she murmured. Dan looked over at Louise, who was still eyeing the beautiful pairs of earrings with a wistful smile.

“We’ll take them,” Dan said, pushing both pairs towards the sales woman.

The saleswoman’s eyebrows shot up, undoubtedly surprised that the customer who stomped in demanding something less than fifty pounds and bought the world’s ugliest necklace would impulse buy two pairs of earrings, each at least triple the price of his original budget.

“No no no no no, Dan.” Louise insisted. “Four hundred pounds for earrings for Darcy and I is ridiculous.”

Dan nodded to the saleswoman, signaling her to wrap up the earrings as well, and motioning to the cute “Mothers need Valentines, too!” bags next to the register.

“Lou, you put up with more of my shit than anyone should ever have to, and we all know Darcy is my favorite human being on the planet. It’s Valentine’s Day. I’m short-changing my girlfriend, let me spoil my favorite ladies.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Dan could see the saleswoman’s jaw drop, but he didn’t respond. There was no point in trying to explain to her that his relationship was going to hell and he was breaking up with his girlfriend as soon as it was socially acceptable.

“Dan, really, we both know you love us. You don’t need to buy us expensive gifts.”

As Louise pleaded with Dan, the saleswoman motioned him down the counter, pointing to the register in front of her.

“Hush, I’m buying them.” Dan handed his credit card to the woman, smiling softly at Louise, who shook her head but didn’t say anything. When the saleswoman passed him back his card and the two bags, Dan handed the Mother! bag to Louise with a sheepish grin.

“Thank you,” Louise said softly, pressing a small kiss to Dan’s cheek. Dan looped his arm through Louise’s, gently pulling her towards the exit of the shop.

For a few minutes, Louise was content to walk in quiet peace. Dan should have known, though, that it wouldn’t last.

“So, when do I get to meet Phil?”

Dan blanched, tossing Louise a wary look.

“If you don’t introduce me to him, I’ll just stop by Beans and Grind to meet him myself.”

“Ugh, Louise. Soon, alright? Soon. I promise.”

Soon, Dan elaborated in his head, when maybe I can introduce him as something other than a friend.

a/n: and to think some of yall actually thought dan was gonna dump her on valentines day smh. looks, here’s just some friendly, good bants. see, he’s a good boy :) 

[[next chapter]]

#slow burn #singer!dan #barista!phil #phan au #coffee shop au #iminclinedtowriting #phan #phanfic #phanfiction #love yourself #ly

[theamazingdrunk-blog]

❓- Did they ask a lot of questions when they were younger? Did they like to explore the world?

“This is Daniel Molloy, Boy Reporter, coming to you live from Mrs. McGrath’s backyard, where I am joined by Pop-Pop and Shannon. Thank you for joining us. Miss Molloy, what can you tell us about what happened?”

“I sat here yesterday an’ I was helping make the posters an’ an’ this, big, huge, it was enormous, this enormous dog came up an’ licked my face!”

“And what was that like?”

“Gross! Haha! An’ wet! I’m gonna go see if Kaitlyn’s home. Be right back.”

“No wait! Shannon! Come back!”

“Thanks for your patience, folks. The one finger to my ear means the studio has a small technical difficulty. We go now live to Pop-Pop, local expert and friend of the show, to get to the bottom of this mystery. Why do dogs lick your face? Welcome back, Pop-Pop.”

“Thank you, Danny.”

“Pop-Pop! We talked about this!”

“Oh, excuse my manners. Thank you, Boy Reporter. This is so different from your news studio. Where’s the camera? Is that why I couldn’t find the oatmeal this morning?”

“I was gonna put it back!”

“Whoa, buddy, you’re not in trouble, okay? Now how’d you manage to make the oatmeal canister work like a camera? Was it magic?”

“Magic’s not real, Pop-Pop. Everybody knows that.”

“Uh oh, then somebody better convince me it isn’t!”

“But that makes no sen—”

“Danny I’m baaaack! I brought the dog!”

“You said it was an ‘enoooooormous’ dog!”

“He has a big personality!”

“That thing is tiny! You got licked by a before-dog, Shannon! That’s not news!”

“Sure it is! Better’n who ate the last slice of pie in the fridge!”

“I know it was you, I saw you!”

“Kids—”

“Prove it, DAN-iel!”

“I will! You can’t hide the truth!”

“Agh! Nobody cares! Why can’t you just be NOR-mal?”

“Shannon, that’s not—”

“Takes one to know one, dweeb!”

“Loser!”

“Liar! Liar liar pants on fire liarliarpantsonfire Shannon is a lia-aar! You better put ab-ses-tos in your pants and get some burn cream because your pants are on fire! Ow! Ow-ow no hitting! She’s hitting me! Shannon’s hitting me! Stoppit!”

“Snitch! Snitch! You’re not my brother! You’ll never be a reporter!”

“Break it up, you two. Shannon, go wait in your room. Daniel…”

“I’m sorry. Sir.”

“C’mere, buddy. C’mere, sit next to your grandfather.”

“She started it! She lied about the pie and I got in trouble and I didn’t get to go to Great America that summer and I’ve never been and she lied about the dog and—”

“Do you still want to know why dogs lick your face?”

“Well duh. C’mon, Pop-Pop.”

“It’s because they love you.”

“What? But it’s slobbery and gross.”

“Sometimes love is slobbery and gross. It’s one of the ways dogs show you they love you. Dogs can smell all the ugly feelings you have, so they help you lick it off.”

“Oh.”

“Now do you love your sister?”

“Yeah. I guess. Yes.”

“Your mother told me about the pie.”

“I saw her—”

"Let me finish, now. Do you think you were showing her your love, just now?”

“…no. I was not. But she hit me!”

“You’re right, and that was wrong of her. I’m going to talk to your parents about that. Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Didn’t hurt. Pop-Pop?”

"Can you not tell Mom and Dad?”

“Why not?”

"It was nothing. It didn’t even hurt. I was making it sound like it did. I…wasn’t showing her my love.”

“I’m proud of you, Danny. You’ve got spirit and you’ve got courage. Now if you could have some wisdom too with that, you’d be set for life. You can’t do that without love.”

“D’ya think Shannon was right? About…the reporting? Sir?”

“Oh a leanbh. So is it the ‘truth’ that’ll be the end of you one day and not a fine whiskey after all?”

“Pop-Pop, I’m almost thirteen. I don’t need this Lucky Charms crap.”

"Oh are you now? I couldn’t tell, with you mentioning it all the time. And you say there’s no magic in the world already?”

"Santa Claus isn’t real. The Easter Bunny and the Tooth Fairy don’t exist and never have. Oh my God, Pop-Pop, I’m not a kid anymore.”

"That’s all well for you, but what if I were to tell you that I don’t believe you? I think magic is real. I swear. Cross my heart. Spit and shake my hand.”

“Huh? I don’t get it.”

“Prove me wrong, Danny. Get eyewitnesses. Tell their stories, about stone circles and dancing to the moon and all that good old rot. Report on the abnormal until not a single soul in the world thinks they can’t live as who they are.”

"Pop-Pop, you sound like a hippie.”

“Would a hippie take you to Great America?”

Mr Daniel Molloy—with his newly-minted Press Pass as staff and not just struggling stringer for KQED—sits in the back of the bar, admiring the celebratory amber liquid in his tumbler. His grandfather tends to pop up in his dreams whenever he considers his career. 

The men in his family are known for their thirst. For life, for love, for drink, and for a certain brand of violence. The senior Molloy’s had been for family until he died of a broken heart and ten bottles of 92-proof. But before he died, he’d recognized Daniel’s own thirst for the truth in a way certainly his parents never had.

“And still don’t,” Daniel thinks to himself, eyeing the handsome dark-haired stranger cohabiting the back of the bar. He hefts his bag of blank tapes onto his shoulder and picks up his drink. The stranger is gone when Daniel looks back up. Like magic. He grins abruptly, delighted at the mystery unfolding before him, and begins his chase.

#missing-luggage #thanks for the ask! #daniel the reporter #daniel molloy #daniel molloy reporter boy #headcanon #drabble #dialogue-heavy #mortal!daniel #daniel the child #oc: shannon molloy #oc: pop-pop molloy #daniel the irish #daniel the californian #great america is an amusement park near san francisco #internalized racism #interview with the vampire #louis de pointe du lac #cameo appearance

[notanightlight]

Do you know any Elvish names for a girl not yet of age who is courageous, outspoken but quiet, kind, curious, and childish? For characteristics of the girl, she has golden wavy hair and bright blue eyes.

Hmmm… I’m no scholar, but this is something that I did a lot of looking into a few years ago! (If anyone notices me getting something wrong, pleas feel free to correct me!)

For Elven names, you’re going to want to put your creative hat on! There really aren’t a lot of names that get repeated often. You might see common threads running through families (Elwing, Elrond, Elros, Elladan, & Elrohir for example), but you won’t often see exact names getting passed down. This means you wouldn’t exactly have a lot of common names to pull from, but that’s okay because we can use a process to come up with authentic sounding names.

If I remember correctly, Elves aren’t given the name they’ll be known by at birth. Often at that time they are just the literal translation of “Son of ___”, “Daughter of ___”, etc. Later on, their parents give them a unique name. Usually this name has to do with some characteristic of the child (physical or personality) or something with personal meaning.

So the best place to start is to look at an Elven dictionary! In whichever language her family would speak. There are a few really good ones online (I’m on mobile currently, otherwise I’d link them) Start thinking of what her parents would describe her as. Would she be their Curious Sparrow? Their Golden Song? Look at words and find ones you enjoy the sound of.

Next comes the fun part! Figuring out how to stitch them together! There are a few naming conventions to guide you:

1. Elven names are usually between 2-4 syllables long. You might have a few exceptions, but it’s a pretty good rule of thumb.

2. Words will be adjusted to fit the name. You may entirely drop a syllable (usually an unstressed syllable) or may simplify a cluster to a single sound (tr- adjusted to t-, -ien to -en). Try saying possible names out loud. In general, people are lazy speakers (it’s part of how languages evolve). If the name is hard to say, simplify!

3. There are a few common suffixes you can add if you want to add a little something; -iel and -en are regularly seen in feminine names, -ion is regularly seen in masculine names. There may be more, but those are the ones I came up with off the top of my head.

Other than that, have fun trying things out until you get one you like! If you want to run any by me, please feel free!

(The name I created for an OC of my own through this process was Geliril. Maybe you’ll figure out its meaning during your research =D)

#lotr #elves #naming practices are fun to explore!

[winchesterdesire]

Iele

Part 7 of Done Waiting.

Pairings: Dean x reader

Characters: Dean, Sam, Reader, OC

Warnings:angst?

Summary: Dean needs to save the reader, but is unsure how best to do that. And who is James really?

…………………………

[Dean’s POV]

“Y/N!!!!!!!!!”

My voice sounded rough and cracked, as it rang out in the small space, as I lurched towards her. Before I could reach her, her head snapped up and her eyes were wide open staring. A force stopped me in my tracks and I watched horrified as y/n turned and another gash appeared on her body. She didn’t scream. Only a low groan escaped her lips. An exhausted groan. One that showed she was past the ability to do anything more.

My gut wrenched at the sound. My eyes glued to her, willing her to be able acknowledge I was here. I was here for her.

Sam was still glued to the wall and I didn’t seem able to speak anymore. It was like my tongue was glued to the roof of my mouth. What the hell where we dealing with here? This Iele thing was powerful. More so than any other spirit we’d encountered.

James groaned then. My eyes snapped to him and I gritted my teeth. His head slowly rose and his eyes fluttered open. Those freaking blue eyes scanned the room, widening as he cast a scared glance around.

He began to try and move against his restraints, when what looked like smoke coiled around him, almost as if trying to soothe him. I managed a growl, which got James’s attention.

His eyes snapped to mine. They widened again. As I watched the smoke slowly seemed to take shape and before my very eyes transformed into the ghost like apparition of a woman. She was leaning over James, almost embracing him and trying to soothe his fear. I saw his entire body tense as she became more solid. His head snapped away from me as he tried to distance himself from the form behind him. I vaguely saw movement from Sam’s direction but willed myself not to look. If he had managed to pull free from the hold on him and had a plan, I didn’t want to draw attention to him.

Being stuck I had time to study y/n. She looked bad. Really bad. All I wanted to do was rush forward and take her in my arms. Patch her up myself and never let her go. Her normally y/h/c was matted with blood. My heart broke at the sight. My eyes were drawn back to James again as he struggled. The Iele, walking around him, coming to stop in front of him.

A cold haunting voice broke into my mind then. I knew it was the Iele. The sound of it sent shivers all over my body and goosebumps raised on my arms. My gazed felt like it was tugged to her. Her mouth didn’t move but the voice couldn’t belong to anyone else. It was like ice cutting into me.

“James my love. Jimmy. Why do you resist me so? Have I not been kind to you? I saved you from the whore. Jimmy.”

Jimmy. The nickname fell into my mind, jolting me. The ID card coming back through a fog at the back of my mind. Where had I heard that name before? I squeezed my eyes shut trying to dispel the thoughts. There wasn’t time to think about that now. I had to try and move. I had to try and get to y/n. That thing had just called her a whore. I wasn’t going to stand that.

There was no time to gather any strength to try as the Iele’s voice pierced my mind again, this time there was a darker edge underlying it, sending my body into some sort of shock.

“Have you betrayed me Jimmy? Did you bring these… these hunters to my door? I thought you were special. There was something different about you. Something graceful. And you betrayed me. Like all the rest”

Her voice seemed to snarl around the word ‘hunters’. She now had her back turned to me. I studied her trying to figure out any weaknesses. She was definitely different from any other spirit we’d come across. In any other situation I might have called her beautiful. No not that, that was the wrong word. Striking. She had a terrifying striking quality about her. It was easy to see why people were led astray by her. She vaguely resembled those nymphs from Greek mythology. Her eerie smoke sort of falling over her like a thin robe. The one thing that marked her out as being different though, aside from the creepy smoke, were the swirling silver patterns that snaked up and down her arms. They seemed to glow adding to the already weird shit atmosphere. I swallowed hard as she moved closer to James. It was like she had a lure and it was extremely hard to resist.

I felt myself losing grip on my bearings and I dragged my mind back to y/n. She was the only thing that mattered right now. I tore my gaze away from the Iele and focused on y/n. What that bitch had done to y/n. It burned away at the fog now clouding the front of my mind. I could feel my strength return, that I hadn’t even realised had begun to seep from me. Fire flew through my veins as I allowed what I felt for y/n rush through me. My heart thudded heavily and stronger than ever in my chest.

I saw James turn his head away from the Iele and she struck him. His head snapping back to her. A blue bruise was snaking on his cheek where she had struck him. My gut recoiled. It looked nasty and the colouring was harsh on his face.

I moved forward pulling my iron rod out of my jacket as Sam rushed past me. He swung the iron rod in his hands through the Iele. She hissed, shuddering back, her form recoiling. She didn’t disappear like normal ghosts do though she just seemed hurt. While she was distracted I rushed to y/n. Holding her form. Her body dropped into my arms as Sam swung at the Iele again. Another hiss ripping through the air. Her voice lashed through my mind again as I gripped y/n tightly pulling her to my chest.

“No one will get in the way of my vengeance! You are nothing. You are tiny. I will destroy you”

I looked up at the Iele then, Sam was holding her back with the mugwort and garlic tied together on a stick he held before him. I stared back at her defiantly,

“I know. Doesn’t mean I’ll go down without taking you with me, you bitch! Sammy now!”

Sam began chanting the text he had found to accompany the dance. He moved in a weird formation around the Iele keeping her back as best as possible with his makeshift stick. I was going to tease Sam about that stupid dance after we got out of here. I lay y/n down as gently as I could, so as not to hurt anymore than she was. Her eyes were open and glassy. I panicked before seeing her chest rise and fall.

I stood grabbing for my own mugwort thing and helped Sam keep the Iele at bay. She was twisting and turning, screaming at us. The sound spiking through our minds. I winced, dropping the mugwort. She lashed out, cutting my arm and sending y/n flying against the far wall. I heard James call her name in distress. I gritted my teeth, sweeping the mugwort back up and brandishing it in the Iele’s face. I couldn’t get distracted. I couldn’t.

Sam was still moving weirdly and I had no desire to know what the hell he was doing. It looked like voodoo shit and I was too busy trying to hold the bitch back. She was strong. I kept fighting to keep hold of the stick before me. It felt like holding onto a kite in a storm. Near impossible. My fingers were getting splinters from the stick as my grip tightened and the wood dug into my skin.

The stick slipped from my grasp and went flying. I was flung backwards and she lunged for me. She was holding me by the neck up on the wall. Forcing me higher. Her grip tightened, cutting off my air supply. I scrabbled at her hands, but mine kept slipping through, clawing at my own throat. I felt the pressure increase as I struggled for air. My efforts getting weaker by the moment. The air around her seemed to darken and I could feel myself slipping into unconsciousness. I struggled to keep my mind clear. Fog seeming to swirl around and within me, clogging up my senses. Her voice screeched through my mind, cutting through the fog for moment.

“You think you can stop me. You are weak. You can’t save her. You mean nothing to her. I’ve seen her heart.”

I made an awful noise in my throat, I can’t even describe it. I didn’t need her to tell me what I already knew. I’d pushed y/n away. But I could save her. I would save her. Or die trying.

I forced my eyes open, the Iele was terrifying up close, it’s features distorted. I recoiled, feeling violently sick as I still had no air. My eyes landed on y/n. James was still struggling against his restraints. At least he wasn’t being completely useless.

I failed to gasp for air as the Iele renewed her efforts. My eyes rolling to the back of my head. I couldn’t keep them open any longer. I felt my fight dying and I tried to stay conscious, constantly struggling with the fog and her vice like grip on me.

CRACK

The noise shattered through the room and the fog in my mind.

CRACK

The Iele shuddered, her grip loosening, her scream deafening. I gasped for air, my throat burning as oxygen ripped down into my empty lungs. My chest was painful as it constricted trying to regulate the air flow. Son of a bitch that was painful!

CRACK

My vision swam before me as I took deep shaky breaths trying to get back in control.

CRAACK

The Iele’s scream ricocheted around the room. My ears ringing I lifted my head. Sammy was standing at his full height, the stick he’d been waving now stuck in the ground, a crack running from it towards the Iele. She slammed down into the floor. Her arms flying forward as she tried to find something to cling onto. Her fingernails leaving claw marks in the floor. I picked myself up as Sam brought the stick high above his head again. I could see him straining against some force and all I wanted to do was take over. Before I could do anything he brought the stick back down.

CRACK

The sound seemed to echo indefinitely as the stick splintered when it made contact with the ground and light exploded around us. The Iele was torn into smoky threads and got sucked down into the ground, the floor pulling itself together as it went. I watched frozen as Sam fell. The last of the unexplainable light fading as the screams whipped from our minds, leaving a hideous silence.

Sammy crumpled to the ground. I fell to my knees.

“Sammy?!”

I watched, waiting. Sam lifted himself and I breathed a sigh of relief, before spinning round and sprinting to y/n.

James was already by her side, somehow having gotten out of the ropes tying him to the chair. He was shivering and I easily pushed him aside. I reached y/n, pulling her into my arms and cradling her against my chest. I stroked her hair out of her face, trying to get her to look at me.

“Y/N? Wake up. Come on.”

She was still. Too still.

“Come ON!”

I shook her slightly, James was regretably at my side, Sam had come to my other, sitting down heavily. He looked beat. I took in a shuddering breath, clutching y/n to me and rocking back and forth.

I felt a hand on my shoulder. I flinched when I realised it was James. I gritted my teeth

“Sammy… take y/n. Make sure she comes back to me.”

“Dean…”

I glared at Sam. He knew not to argue. He took y/n from my arms and backed out the room. She was safe now. She was safe. She had to be.

James had begun to stand unsteadily. I whipped round, standing and grabbing him by the collar, pulling him against the wall in one surprising movement. His head smacked back against the wall. I growled at him. This was all his fault.

“You better hope that y/n pulls through. For your sake.”

I held him where he was, staring him down when he began to choke slightly and grip at my hands.

“Dean….”

His freaking gravelly voice seemed to be lower. The way he said my name and was looking at me, made me let go. I dropped him and he fell to the floor. This scene was too familiar, did I just get Dejavu? I’d never met this guy though right? I shook my head and turned my back on him.

“You better hope I never see you again”

“Dean…”

I ignored him and left him there. He could get himself out. I had to check on y/n. Make sure she was ok. She was the only thing on my mind right now.

………………….

I reached the Impala. Sam was carefully placing y/n in the back seat. He looked up as I approached, looking behind me.

“Where’s….

I snapped at Sam before he could finish, opening the drivers door and online stopping to glare at Sam,

“He can look after himself. We have to get y/n back”

Sam put his hand on the door, stopping me from closing it,

“We can’t just leave him. Doesn’t matter how pissed you are. We don’t do that to people and… we need to question him remember?”

My jaw clenched but I remembered the ID card and James’ last name. Sammy was right. It was too uncomfortable not to check out. I grunted and slid into the car as Sam turned back to get him. I sat waiting, checking on y/n now and again. I threw my arm over the seat and shifted my body round so I could reach her. I picked up her hand in mine, lacing our fingers together. I hoped she could feel it in her unconscious state and know I was there. There for her.

Sam finally came back. He was supporting James who was walking slowly and shivering like crazy. The blue bruise on his cheek seemed bigger than it had in the dim basement. I watched as the came closer, preparing myself to share a car with that guy. One thing was for sure, he wasn’t riding up front with me and he wasn’t going to sit next to y/n either. I closed my eyes knowing that would mean moving her. It was stupid and selfish of me, but I didnt want him near her, not after what happened.

I opened my eyes as Sam opened the back door. James supported himself on the frame. I quickly got up and opened the other side to move y/n.

Mine and Sam’s eyes locked and he understood. I gingerly picked up y/n and moved her to the front seat, where she would be next to me. Sam helped James into the back before sliding in himself.

I noticed Sam had removed his jacket and offered it to James. James refused looking out the window. I shook my head at his stubbornness. He was still shivering, least he could do was accept help when it was offered. I stopped my train of thought. I would have done the same in his position. We still didn’t know who this guy was and why his name was familiar. With that mind, my resentment against him rose back up and I gritted my teeth. I started up Baby. The sooner we knew, the sooner we could get rid of him, and concentrate on healing y/n and getting her back to her normal self.

…………………

The drive back to the motel was long and painful. The tension in the air almost unbearable. Admittedly most of it was rolling off of me. I half wished we were headed back to the bunker but I wasn’t about to take James there. No way. Y/n was leant against me and the only sign she was still alive was her chest rising and falling as she breathed. I clutched the steering wheel trying to concentrate on the road ahead.

We pulled up in front of the motel, and for what felt like an excruciatingly long time we sat in silence with no one moving.

I turned my full attention to y/n, her eyes were still closed and there was no colour in her face. She looked ashen. I swallowed hard. I hoped she would be able to pull through.

I carried y/n into the motel and lay her down on the bed. She felt cold. Wrapping my jacket round her and pulling the covers over her, I leaned down placing a kiss on her forehead. I pressed my lips to her skin, closing my eyes.

As I pulled away, Sam entered. James’s arm was slung around his shoulders. They walked forward until they were near the couch, where Sam helped lower James down onto it. James sat pulling the throw, that lay over the back of the couch, around himself.

Sam made sure he was ok, before looking up to me and moving to be my side.

“We need to get them both to hospital. James seems to be suffering from some sort of hypothermia and it worries me that y/n hasn’t woken yet”

I shook my head, “No hospitals. We can look after y/n ourselves and like you said we still need to work out who Mr ice bucket over there is”

Sam sighed and drew me into the kitchen space.

“The most we can do is stitch her up. She needs more than that Dean, look at her. We can pretend to be FBI agents with two vics, no one will know”

Sam was right. And we had our own injuries to look at. My throat was still sore and my voice was constantly hoarse. The gash on my arm also needed attention badly and Sam looked exhausted, and in no state to help patch someone else up. After a bit of convincing and me being my stupid grumpy self, I begrudgingly agreed. We needed help. She needed help we couldn’t give her. I couldn’t give her.

…………………..

I sat by her hospital bed. The machine hooked up to her telling me her heart was beating regularly. I held onto that lifeline and prayed.

Sam was in the room next door, where James was. Apparently he was fine and just needed rest and warming up. I guess I should be grateful we managed to save a humans life. It was just that it was his life that grated me. The question of who he was, was gnawing away at me too. Why was his last name so familiar? Dammit. I brought my mind back y/n. But that didn’t help my frustration with James. Because of him, she was in this situation.

The door opened and I looked up. It was the nurse. I ignored her as she shuffled round me, performing her normal administrations. The door opened again but I kept my eyes on y/n. The sound of a clearing throat made me look up. It was James. I stood up, my body tensing. The bruise on his cheek was still quite bad but other than that he seemed fine and his blue eyes didn’t seem so challenging today. I still stood my ground and greeted him with nothing but coldness.

“How is she?”

His voice was deep and gravelly. His head was tilted to the side as he examined me and then her. A frown on his face. Was this guy for real? I clenched my fists at my side.

“Who are you?”

I don’t know if it was my tone of voice or the question, but his eyes snapped back to me and he squinted at me confused.

“I’m not sure I understand the question. I’m J….”

“Don’t give me that. Who. Are. You?” I wasn’t having any of his bullshit.

He just looked more confused and I’d had it. I wanted answers. I stalked round the room and grabbed his shitty trench coat by the collar making him look at me. Look at me properly. Why was he wearing a coat? Was he leaving? How could he leave her like this?

“Don’t lie to me. I’m tired and pissed and I need you to tell me who you really are. Now.”

I saw his eyes widen as I pulled a knife from my pocket and held it to his side. He gulped and looked down. I wasn’t fucking around. It didn’t add up. His last name. The little damage done to him when y/n was… I searched his face. I’d never been this close to his face before. Or maybe I had. Dejavu flickered through me again. Images breaking through a murky fog at the back of my head again. It was too much. I slammed him against the wall for the second time.

“Tell me who you are?!”

“Dean!”

…………………

#dean x reader #done waiting #supernatural #part 7 #angst #injury #threat

[munofsilver]

Trip

Part of the Single Father Nathaniel series. You can read it here. Ao3 link of the new one. Check out this commision that was made by @rebelthewolfy base of this series. Summary: Today the Kurtzberg's head to Italy. This takes place a few weeks after Happy Birthday. Don’t forget the coffee. 

Nathaniel leans back in his chair. It has been a while since he been on a plane. This time instead of being alone he has company. That company is his daughter Jessica. This is her first time on a plane, and it shows. She's excited and everything is interesting to her. Nathaniel wonders if it was a good idea to have her sit next to the window. She can't seem to stop looking out it. “Up high daddy. We are up high,” she said face pressed up against the window. “Yes, we are, my little artist. Planes are huge,” Nathaniel said remembering his first time on a plane when he was six. Nathaniel is also worried about this trip. Jessica seems nervous about Lila's parents. He wished his parents were coming. Sadly someone needs to look after things at home, Marinette is coming through. Sadly she wasn't able to get a seat next to him. He'll just have to handle her sitting behind Jessica instead. Soon the plane starts to move and Jessica is bouncing in her seat. Nathaniel checks to make sure her seat belt is on. “We moving,” she cheered. “Jessica is cute,” Marinette giggles, and Nathaniel agrees. Once the plane takes off Jessica mood changes. “Where ground, Daddy?” She sounds a bit scared. “We're in the air,” Nathaniel takes a hold of Jessica's hand as Jessica hugs Mrs. Cuddly tight. “Don't worry everything will be fine, my little artist.” Nathaniel tries to calm down his daughter. “Flying is safe?” She asked squeezing her father's hand, “We be fine?” Jessica asked to make sure. “Nothing bad will happened,” Marinette said poking her head above Jessica's seat. Jessica looks up at Marinette and Nathaniel used this time to close the visor so Jessica can't look out the window anymore. Good thing the flight was a short nonstop one. Before they knew it they were landing and Jessica was busy sleeping, while her father draws. Once in the airport and luggage in hands, Nathaniel looks for their ride. He sees Lila parents holding a sign. Taking Jessica's hand the three make their way towards them. Nathaniel notices they spelled his name wrong and something else. “That's not how I spell my name. It's iel, not ael.” Nathaniel corrected them. “It's not my fault there's more than one way to spell your name?”Demario stated. “Jessica's surname isn't Rossi it's Kurtzberg,” Marinette pointed out. “What do you mean our granddaughter surname is Kurtzberg?” Demario yelled in anger. Carla gasped. Jessica whispers something in Nathaniel's ear. “We'll talk about this later, Jessica,” Nathaniel sighed. “Please just take us to our hotel now,” Marinette speaks in a calming voice. “Good idea,” responded Carla. The Rossi's drop the trio at a local hotel and drive off. They check in and head towards their rooms. Marinette is across from the father and daughter. Once settled in Jessica goes to her father. He knew she would and knows why. “Daddy,” she says making her way over. Nathaniel picks her up and places her on his lap when he sits on the bed. “I guess you want to talk now, my little artist,” Nathaniel sighs. Jessica nods. “There is something I never told you. Those people that picked us up are your mother's parents,” Nathaniel feels like he shouldn't have had them pick them up. He wonders why he never told her about them before. Maybe it's because they moved back to Italy and never tried to contact Jessica. They did send her birthday gifts every year. That's all they did. Now they want to spend time with her. He doesn't get it. Maybe they are up to something. Mr. Rossi did sound upset when he found out about Jessica's surname. “Why they never visit like Grangram and Papop?” Grangram and Papop are what Jessica calls Nathaniel's parents. He's not sure if she made those names or his parents. Either way, it's creative. “When your mother left they moved back to Italy.” Nathaniel hardly ever talked to them even when Lila was alive. He felt like her father hated him. If he did Nathaniel never knew why. Not that is matters to him. “Why did they move?” Jessica asked. Not sure what to say Nathaniel just told her the truth, “I don't know.” “We ask next time we see them, okay?” Jessica raised her voice in a happy tone. Nathaniel not sure if that would be best. He feels that Jessica would ask anyways. He'll just have to worry about that later. They won't be joining them on the trip, just an airport ride. They may try to spend time with Jessica. That idea worries Nathaniel the most. When Jessica was sleeping Marinette came over to visit for a bit. Saying she was lonely in her room. “How did it go?” She asked. “The talk? It seems Jessica wants to talk to them,” Nathaniel tone is of an anxious one. “Is it that bad?” Marinette asked. Nathaniel falls on to a chair like a lump, “I just don't understand. They had four years to get in touch with her, why now?” “Maybe you should talk with them before Jessica does,” Marinette suggested. Nathaniel thinks about what Marinette suggested. Not a bad idea. Carla would be a better choice than Demario. Then his phone rings. It's an unknown number. Unsure and suspicious Nathaniel answers it. “Hello, Nathaniel. It's me, Carla. I just wanted to apologize on my husband behavior today. It was uncalled for and unnecessary.” Nathaniel wanted to tell her his opinion of Demario. “It's alright. Since I have you can I ask you something?” Nathaniel thinks about how he was going to ask. “Sure,” Carla answered. “How come you guy never wanted to visit Jessica or call until now?” For a few minutes, there was nothing and Nathaniel wonders if she was still there. “We just needed time. Lila was our only child. She didn't even tell us when she was pregnant. The only reason we found out is that when we visited her and saw that she was far into her pregnancy.” That's not much of an answer to his question. Then again it does tell him why it seems Demario hates him. “We thought she didn't want us around the child. That's why we moved back when she died. We planned on moving back before our grandchild was born. Sadly that didn't happen.” There was sadness in her voice. Nathaniel knew Lila very well she would never want her parents out of their child's life. She didn't tell them cause she was worried about what they would say or do when they found out that they weren't going to get married cause she got pregnant. After another long pause, she speaks again. “I always wanted to call or visit. Every time I try I would get cold feet. I always wanted to meet my granddaughter so does Demario. We never knew if she knew about us. I know the answer to that now.” “She knows. I told her about you two today. In fact, she wants to talk to the both of you,” Nathaniel felt bad for Carla. Maybe it not a bad thing if Jessica spends time with Lila's parents.

#ML #Nathaniel Kurtzberg #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #Lila parents #Lila Rossi #Jessica Rossi Kurtzberg #OC #Fanfic #ML Fanfic

[winchesterdesire]

Unexpected

Part 6 of Done Waiting.

Pairings: Dean x reader, OC x reader (mentioned)

Characters: Dean, Sam, Reader, OC’s

Warnings: angst lots of angst, some torture?

Summary: Dean struggles with readers date and can’t help but blame himself when things go wrong… (eh, I’m crap at these summaries, sorry!)

Enjoy! Or something like that!

…………………..

The sound of a phone dropping to the ground, from thin air, makes a loud clunk as it hits the tarmac. The screen cracking. A suffocating silence feels the air and even those in the restaurant appear to have hushed their conversations. The phone left on the ground is still connected, the call screen just visible through the cracks now running across its surface. Dean’s voice came over the line, cutting through the heavy atmosphere,

“Y/N? Y/N?! Son of a..”

The call disconnected. The phone glowing softly, before it went black. The silence stole back across the car park, now devoid of any human life.

……………………….

A few hours earlier……

[Dean’s POV]

I watched as y/n walked out the door. The slam of it making me wince. What the hell just happened?! I know I’d been a dick the other week. I still felt the guilt eating me up on the inside. I hated what I did to her. Sam had let slip that she liked me. But I didn’t believe him. I didn’t think anyone could like me, at least not like that. So I kept her at a distance, or tried to. I don’t know what it was about her, but she was able to get me to open up, take some of my walls down. Some walls I didn’t even know I had. God, my mind was spiralling into a chick flick. Probably why I hated them so much, reminded me of my own shitty inner turmoil. Anyway, I thought by distancing myself from her I was keeping her safe. I was wrong. I was always fucking wrong.

When I’d seen her with that guy, it was like a dam inside me broke. It was terrifying how much it effected me to see her with someone else. I realised she must feel this every time I was with another woman. I swore then and there never to pick up a random woman again. But it was too late. Of course it was. She had moved on from me. I had lost my chance and she was never going to forgive me.

Well I guess my plan to keep her at an arms length had succeeded. She was much further away than that now. I punched a wall as Sammy watched me. His annoying puppy eyes boring into the back of my head.

“Dean..”

“Shut it Sammy”

I let out an angry breath. At myself not her. I thought last night had healed some of the wounds. The wounds I’d caused. She’d been cold with me all week. No texts, no calls. To be fair I hadn’t texted her either. I assumed I was the last person she wanted to speak to.

Disappearing like that with Sammy to go on a hunt themselves though, had caused me pain in ways I didn’t know were possible. First I was jealous she had picked Sam. I know they’re close but I always thought it was more like a brother/sister relationship between them. Which was true, but it didn’t stop the twist in my gut when she picked him over me. It was stupid to feel that way, but I couldn’t help it. I swallowed it down in alcohol, like always. God I’m such a mess. Then… then I missed her like crazy. As hard as it was to admit to myself, I missed her casual affection. The small touches, the looks… I missed her.

So when she had let me hold her last night… I thought.. she was obviously just pitying me. I’d lost her and she was trying to be nice. She’d moved on.

I gritted my teeth thinking about that bag of dicks she was going on a ‘date’ with. That word had cut through me harshly. It jolted me, and I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did. Hell why couldn’t I be happy for her? It’s what I’d been pushing her away to do anyway right? I was being selfish now.

Images of her scared face flashed before my eyes. I winced. Sam looked up at me from his laptop, with a concerned glance. When had he moved to do that? I realised I’d slumped back on the floor, leaning my back against the bed and was just staring at the wall. I muttered something about needing the restroom, and got up, purposely avoiding Sammy’s annoying concern.

Once in the bathroom, I leant against the sink, turning the tap on and letting the sound of the running water, wash over me. I splashed my face and looked up in the mirror. My dull eyes were staring back at me. I flinched at the dark look that seemed to shadow my face. Y/N’s scared expression once again crossing my minds eye. I’d done that. I’d terrified her, intimidated her into freaking cowering away from me. I drove her away and into the arms of another man. It confirmed my thoughts, that she would be safer away from me. If I caused that much terror in her… I must really be the monster I always knew I was. She was right to run from me. She should run. Yet the selfish part of me couldn’t accept that. It wanted her for myself, and rose up in a jealous rage that she was with another guy right now. He was probably making her laugh and smile. That gorgeous smile, with the dimples that only showed when she was happy. I clutched the sink, my knuckles turning white. I should be the one making her laugh, making her happy. Not that guy… that James. My mind warped around the name. I was an angry mess in seconds which terrified me. I heard the smash and then felt the pain. My hand came away from the mirror cut and bloodied. Shards of glass littering the sink. Then Sam was knocking urgently on the door.

“Dean? You alright in there?”

I sighed looking at the mess I’d made and grabbing some toilet roll to begin cleaning my bleeding hand with,

“Yeah, I’m good”

My voice sounded hollow to my own ears and I knew Sammy wouldn’t buy it. But I also knew he wouldn’t push it. As on cue I heard him move away from the door.

I slowly shook my head at myself. I needed to get a grip. Put my walls back up. I didn’t need this kind of thinking in my head. That’s what got you killed. Being distracted like this.

For the rest of the day, Sam and me continued to do research. Trying to find a couple in town who were new and passionate for each other. God this was the worst type of case we could be doing right now. We found a few leads and even camped outside a couples house for a bit. When nothing happened and we weren’t getting anywhere Sam called it a day and we headed back to the motel.

Neither of us had heard anything from Y/N for a while now. I was beginning to get twitchy about her being gone. Where was she? Why was she taking so long? On second thoughts I don’t think I really wanted to think about what the answers might be to those questions. I swear she was only meant to be going for lunch. It had been at least 3 hours now. Sam had already left a couple of messages. I also sent my own. Trying to sound normal. I could tell they came across grumpy and pissed though. Why couldn’t I do anything right? Texting was even a freaking chore. Fuck sake, listen to me whinging on like some teenager. I was pissing myself off, I couldn’t imagine what my mood was doing to Sam. I glanced over at him but he was keeping his eyes glued to his laptop screen. Typical.

I pushed myself up and sauntered over to where he sat at the table. I pulled out a chair, slumping into it. Sam breifly glanced my way before returning to his laptop like it was the most interesting thing he’d ever seen in his life. I cleared my throat, pushing all my thoughts about y/n down and away. Kicking one of the opposite chairs out I put my feet up and lifted the practically empty beer bottle to my lips draining the dregs. I turned my attention back to Sammy, hoping he’d found something in all the time he’d had his head jammed in that hunched over position he got when researching or avoiding me.

“Whatca got? Found anything?”

I could at least sound a little more hopeful. Christ. I was more preparing myself for the inevitable. No news. Or bad news. It was never good. Sam looked up at me properly then, leaning back in his chair and clearing his throat. He didn’t look too hopeful either.

“Nothing on potential vics.”

I knew it. I rolled my eyes.

“What’s new?”

“Well, I’ve actually found out something about our ghost. Or spirit.”

I quirked my eyebrows questioningly. This was something.

“And?��

“I think it might be Iele.”

“A what?”

Why was it always something so cryptic and unheard of. Why couldn’t it ever be a simple salt and burn anymore? I leaned forward, frowning. I’d never heard of one those, I stared at Sammy waiting for him to continue as he typed and clicked at his laptop obviously trying to find the page again.

“Iele. Seducers of men. A Romanian mythical nymph like creature. But the details I found are quite specific and match eerily well with this case. Apparently they take vengeance on those they think have wronged them in some way. They can’t be seen by humans and cause mysterious deaths to their victims. They enchant men with their voices. Huh. I guess we could look up if there was a concert here or something. If the guy fell under the song and then with distance…“

My eyes widened with understanding,

“If those men then got a new girl and… well she’d be pissed.”

This was starting to chime uncomfortably close. Damn our stupid lives. It was never clean cut.

“Yeah, well anyone in its vicinity would be prey. If they heard it’s song I guess. The circumstances aren’t specific.”

Like that helped. I dragged my chair beside Sam’s and glanced over the page he had up. I scanned for any details about weaknesses or how to kill the bitches.

“So how do we put an end to these douche wads?”

Sam grimaced and I glanced at him sceptical. This was either going to be really shit or brilliant. My bets were on the first.

“There’s not really a way to ‘end’ them but you can put precautions in place so they can’t come near you.”

I matched Sammy’s grimace, not really wanting to know what voodoo shit we would have to do.

“Err let’s have a look… cures were invented against the Iele, including wearing garlic and mugwort around the waist, in the bosom, or hung from the hat. Right… or hanging the skull of a horse…. on a pole…. in front of the house. The most important cure though is the dance of Călușari.”

I looked at Sammy with disbelief, that was it? “Mug..mugwort? The dance of what?”

Sam sighed and shrugged at me, “That’s what it says man. I can’t really find anything else.”

“Bullshit, there must be something else? Some bones we can salt and burn?”

But before I knew it Sam had ordered mugwort and garlic and was trying to memorise the dance.

I groaned, refusing to take part in.. whatever it was. Sam shrugged, getting on with it. I grabbed my own laptop trying to find something, anything else that might help us, despite not having found anything previously.

Another hour passed and still no sign of Y/N. We’d tried contacting her again to no avail. I tried more than Sam did. I didn’t want to think of what her lunch had led to if it had, but at the same time, I was worried something had happened to her. She didn’t really know… him.

My instincts were screaming at me that something was wrong. I tapped the table impatiently, Sam throwing his looks that were beginning to grate on me. I’d had enough of waiting and was picking up my phone to call her again, when it rang.

I almost threw it across the room. It was her.

My heart clenched and my irritation drained away to be replaced with concern and just wanting to hear her voice. I answered quickly, my heart pounding. Christ, I wish I could keep a control of that happening.

“Hello?”

Hello?! I knew it was her. Hell. I hated being such a moron sometimes. My voice sounded gruff and I had no idea how it came across to her.

Her voice filtered over the line, it seemed tired and sad, I desperately wanted to make her feel better.

“Dean, hi.”

Before I knew it I had breathed her name out in response, I bit my lip, silently cursing my inability to stop myself. She paused for a second and then her voice came back sounding unsure. What was going on, was she ok?

“Umm, I hate to ask but could you come pick me up?”

What?! Had the douche bag left her somewhere without offering her lift back?! I gritted my teeth,

“Sure, where are you?”

I waited for her to respond but instead I heard a thud and a crack. I sat bolt up right listening intensely, Sam glanced at me concerned, still nothing,

“Y/N?“ No response, “Y/N?! Son of a bitch!”

I hung up half way through speaking, slamming my phone down, Sam stared at me worry all over his face. My own hardened as I pulled the impala keys out of my pocket and made my way over to the door, knocking over my chair in my haste.

Sam was right behind me, “Is she ok?”

My shoulders tensed, what a stupid question. But I didnt break my stride, flinging open the door,

“What do you think? Genius.”

…………………….

I sped along the road, my hands gripping the steering wheel tighter, my knuckles turning white, each second I wasn’t close, taking a painful toll on me. I gritted my teeth, pressing down on the gas, Sammy tracking her phone. I didn’t feel like I was going fast enough.

After what felt like a lot longer than it should have been, we pulled up in a car park. It was outside a Greek resturant. I didn’t know she liked Greek food. If I had I would have brought her some or taken her somewhere. I mean the place wasn’t too shabby, but I would have taken her somewhere nicer. Much nicer.

Baby had hardly come to stop, when I flung open the door. My hunter instincts kicked in, my senses sharpening. It didn’t take me long to find it. Her phone. It was lying on the ground, it’s screen cracked. I picked it up, willing it to reveal something about her whereabouts to me.

“Sammy!”

He was by my side in an instant.

Taking the phone from me, he turned it in his hands, examining it as I turned to look around. I scanned the parking lot for any signs of disturbance. I tried to see if there were any foot prints, a scrap of clothing, anything. Anything that might tell me where she had gone.

I spun around frustrated. Sam was already checking for EMF. He walked around and I brought out my own, to help cover more ground. It went wild around where Y/N’s phone had been and it continued a path in the direction of the road. We slowly followed it to the road edge where it petered out. I threw mine down in frustration, kicking it away from me.

“Crap!”

I turned back to Sam to see why he wasn’t as pissed off. He was just looking in front of him.

“Sammy, come on….”

He cut me off before I could continue.

“Dean. Look.”

He nodded with his head in the direction he was looking, at first I didn’t know what he was looking at. I frowned until I saw it.

Just on the rise of the horizon, was the house. The one on the edge of this town we had checked out before. I looked around and recognised the road, now I wasn’t tunnelling along it. Before there had been nothing to find there. Perhaps it was because the last couple had died a week back. So there wasn’t any recent activity to pick up on. But now…. now Y/N was missing. There was strong EMF leading this way and she’d just been on a date. That could potentially class as a new relationship. I gritted my teeth at the thought and didn’t even want to think about what could have made her date… passionate….

Spinning on my heel, my strode back to the impala.

“You coming Sammy?”

We jumped back into baby and I threw her into drive as quick as I could. If this ghost, this.. this spirit thing had Y/N, I was going to get her back and give it hell.

……………………..

As I raced along towards the house my thoughts were consumed with how I’d gank this spirit bitch. And how if I ever met this James I’d make him pay for leaving y/n alone. My eye caught some detritus in the road. As we whipped past I thought I saw a car totalled on the side. I didn’t have time to process it, I was already far past it at the speed I was travelling.

We screeched up to the house. Again I’d barely stopped the car when I was already out and running towards the house, cocking my gun. I was about to kick the door in when I felt a hand on my shoulder. I spun around ferociously, my entire body on high alert.

Sam stood with his hands in the air. He reached out slowly, taking the gun from me. I almost growled.

“Hey, woah. Just.. time out ok..”

“Time out? If Y/N’s in there…”

“I know. I know. She’s my best friend. I care about her too, but we have to have a plan this time. Alright? We can’t just salt and burn”

“I can slow it down” I reached for my gun but Sam lifted it out my reach, the tall freak.

“And not help anyone. Listen, I’ll take the Impala and go back to the motel. The items should have arrived by now. I’ll pick them up, come straight back. Meanwhile you scout out the house, try and find out how to get in unnoticed, you know the drill. Just no rushing in hot headed ok?”

I looked around sucking in my cheeks, god he was irritating when he was right. Without looking back at him I nodded. I might as well be a stroppy kid. I saw Sam let out a breath and he held his hand out for the keys. I reluctantly handed them over.

“If there’s even a scratch, god help me Sammy”

“Understood”

And with that he was driving off to pick up the stuff. I turned back to the house, surveying it. My body itching to rush in and deal with whatever came my way as and when. I bit my lip forcing myself to scout it out.

The house was pretty average for its type. Two storeys, a loft conversion and a basement. At least that’s what I gathered from my patrolling the outside. There was also an open window at the back. Well it was more broken than open but same difference. And the back door itself didn’t look all that secure.

I’d rounded the house a few times now making my observations. I was getting twitchy waiting for Sam. If he didn’t arrive soon I was going in without him. I had no idea what could be happening to y/n. My mind kept turning to the worst scenarios. I flinched away from most of them. I really didn’t want to think about that. Instead I turned my mind back to how I was going to find this James guy and give him a piece of my mind.

Having spent the last ten minutes riled up, I was about to run head first into that cursed house and get y/n out, when I heard the blessed purrs of Baby behind me. I whipped round to see Sam jumping out the car, duffle bag in hand,

“What the hell took you so long?!”

Sam threw me a sour look and I huffed a bit.

“Here I have everything. I also decided to bring some iron weapons. It’s still a spirit right?”

I grunted my agreement, impatiently grabbing for the items Sam had brought. I turned back to the house kitted up, when Sam stopped me again.

“Dean we need a plan and I think James might be in there too.”

I closed my eyes and grit my teeth before being ready to turn and face him,

“What makes you think that?”

My voice sounded strained to me and I watched as Sam’s eyes widened slightly, he cleared his throat, avoiding eye contact,

“I don’t know if you noticed but there was a car, it was crashed on the side of the road. I stopped, which is why I took longer. I checked it and there was no one inside it, but I found blood on the windscreen and this…”

I glanced down at what was now in Sam’s hand. It was an security ID card. James Novak. The name rang in my head. The last name chiming something inside of me, like I should know it. Murky depths in my mind trying to come to light. I shook my head. At least one thing was certain though, he was probably trapped with y/n. I looked up to Sam to confirm I’d clocked it. Sam retracted the card and scanned it himself.

“Doesn’t it feel like we know that name?”

I made a non-committal noise. We didn’t have time to dwell on this. Not now. We could question the dick bag after we had saved his ass and gotten y/n to safety. I shrugged at Sam. Picking up my stuff, I turned towards the house, this time with the full intention to kick that freaking door in.

“Come on, we’ve wasted enough time. There’s a broken window out back. You take that, I’ll go in the front way.”

I didn’t have to wait for a response to know Sam would follow the order. I heard him scuffle behind me as he collected his things. I turned my full attention to the house, the fiery need to get y/n out and alive fuelling my every step.

I hated it when these houses looked exactly like the crap out of horror movies. It grated against me. Yet here we were. In a house that looked exactly like it was out of the Blair Witch Project or something. I held my gun aloft, moving slowly, with a calm I certainly didn’t feel. I moved about the ground floor, acknowledging Sam as he climbed in through the window. He headed towards the stairs as I finished my sweep. There didn’t seem to be anything out of the ordinary on the ground floor, besides the general creeptastic atmosphere.

I heard Sammy move around on the floor above me and hoped he was having more luck, when he appeared at the top of the stairs shaking his head.

Great the basement it was then. Always the freaking basement. Sam came to join me as I made my way stealthily down the steps. My body began to tingle with anticipation and though I would never admit it. Fear. Fear that something had already happened to her.

We reached the bottom, only to find nothing. It was a cluttered old space, full of junk and crap, but there was no one in sight. We rifled through the crap, turning things over, looking for signs of… well anything.

I couldn’t take this anymore. What the hell was going on here?! I punched a wall, leaning heavily on it afterwards. I leant my head against it, the cold sending a shiver down my spine. My eyes closed as I tried to regain control of myself.

I don’t know how long I stood like that for, but it took Sammy shaking my shoulder to snap me out of it. He was looking at me weirdly. Damn him and his weird looks.

“What gives? I’ve been saying your name for the past few minutes. I think I found something”

I was about to snap back when his last words cut across my clouded thoughts. I stood to attention, pushing past him and scanning the room,

“Where?”

“If you’d let me show you?”

I huffed but stepped aside to let him pass and lead the way. My impatience and emotions were getting in the way. What if I couldn’t be trusted to do what was needed if it came to that? I shook myself. This was no time to start questioning myself with doubts. I had to be on my game.

Sam lead the way to the other side of the space. It was crammed full of shelves. Sam stopped in front of the far end one, motioning for me to come closer.

“Just here, do you feel it?”

I crouched down, putting my hand out into the space Sam had pointed out. The hair on my arm stood up as a cold draft drifted over my hand, disturbing the stale air of the basement. I glanced at Sam who was looking at me knowingly.

“Trap door?”

Sam nodded and started to shift things around. I realised he was trying to find the opening or some sort of handle. I stooped down to help him, trailing my hand over any visible cracks.

I steeled myself, making myself take it slow and be thorough. After what seemed like an age, my hand slipped over something smooth. I caught Sam’s attention. He waited for me to continue. I explored how it moved for a bit before tugging it down. A click was heard and a line of light appeared to the side of Sam. He moved to it instantly, running his fingers under the edge. Another click sounded as I assumed he found a latch of some sort. The floor next to him lifted up in a hatch door. A dull light emitting up from the room below. Sam glanced at me before swinging his legs into the gap in the floor and dropping down.

I followed quickly after. Brushing myself off as I stood from where I’d landed. I waited for my eyes to adjust to see a small, damp corridor leading to a rusty door at the end. Talk about horror film spooktacular.

We cautiously approached the door. The sudden drop in temperature making us wary. Sam reached it first and pushed gently on the door. It moved open slightly. Sammy looked at me with raised eyebrows. I knew what he meant, it seemed too easy. Why would the door be open? I mean it was behind a secret trap door thing but still.

Sam pushed it open gingerly and walked into the space his gun raised. I wasn’t far behind, when Sam was flung to the side of the room. I stepped forward hurriedly only for the same thing to happen to me.

My back hit against the opposite wall, the breath leaving my body. Winded I struggled for air and to get a grip on my surroundings. My heart stopped in my chest.

She was here. Some of my worst fears realised. She was suspended in mid air, her clothes torn and bloodied. I could see the cuts and gashes in her skin beneath the tattered clothing. Blood dripping down to the floor. What had happened to her?! James was here too. Strapped to a chair, off to the side of her. He didn’t seem to be as badly harmed and rage ripped through me.

I finally found strenght in my trapped limbs and tore myself off the wall, also finding my voice.

“Y/N!!!!!”

……………………………

#dean x reader #fanfic #done waiting #part 6 #supernatural #dean winchester #deans pov #angst