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a-dusty-emerald · 3 years

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Till it sinks in: Draco x Reader / Hurt-Comfort, Fluff Fic

A hurt-comfort fluff fic, with a slytherin Y/n being the girlfriend of the softie-who-hates-to-be-called-softie-so-he-bitches-all-day Draco Lucius Malfoy.

Where Umbridge uses her quill on you.

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Dolores Umbridge, maybe the most hated teacher to set foot at Hogwarts, had a special dislike against anyone who disobeyed. And while that may be all teachers, not all teachers dismissed sobbing students from their detention. Every single student that got detention with Umbridge looked broken afterwards, but no one knew what she said to them; it was a mystery.

Professor McGonagall, for instance, made sure the students that misbehaved researched a wide topic for a few hours during the week, with the intimidating presence of her self. Professor Snape, on the other hand, locked students in the Potions classroom and let them out after the successfull brewing of a potion of his liking. Hence, it must be something similar.

Y/n strolled into class, her curls bouncing around the embroided slytherin crest of her robe. Defence against the dark arts was her worst subject, she only thought it was interesting when Professor Lupin taught it, and had done surprisingly well. Then, it was a hands-on, useful and fascinating module, while now, Umbridge followed the Ministry's policy to teach the students in a "risk free" way, by only reading through the theory. Not only were the lessons incredibly boring, the whole book was utterly useless.

"As if Voldemort will ask you the theory of Merlin's rule of categorisation of spells when he Avada-Kedavra's your ass", Y/n had scoffed when she saw the chapters. Draco had laughed, but told her that his father had owled him that Umbridge was a family ally, and hence he could not be out of line in her class.

"When did you become such a nerd?"

"Oh shut it Y/n", Y/n recalled.

She had also implemented some stupid rules, like "no touching between boys and girls, and a six feet distance at all times", and reduced the hours that students could go out of their dorms. While Dumbledore wanted the students to be at their dorms by 10pm, Umbridge thought that 6pm was acceptable.

As if.

Y/n entered the class, the only class she did not sit with Draco. Apparently, boys and girls could also not sit with one another, since they would eventually touch. And in a doomed world controlled by Umbridge, that was a sin.

Draco spotted his girlfriend entering the room, wearing a bored look on her face. He was not excited about DADA either. His parents might have told him that Umbridge was the best thing that could happen in this school, but he was not blind or stupid. The stuff being taught were useless and her teaching method was more boring than 5 hours of Divination with no breaks in his eyes. At least then, he could laugh at Trelawney. Now he just was supposed to stay silent and listen Umbridge reading the most basic book ever again and again.

He realised he got lost in his thoughts and was staring at Y/n longer than intended. She seemed bored as hell, but her eyes always intimidated him - yet, he would never admit out loud. Even the plainest of her looks had such passion beneath it, her deep dark orbs had a fire in them, surrounded by thick eyelashes, making her look coy and mischevious even when she was not planning to.

Y/n noticed him looking and smirked back at him.

"Stop staring, people might think that you like me" she mouthed silently to him. He grinned and shook his head. 'She is something else', he thought.

An unpleasantly familiar trotting of heels approached the creaking floor at the centre of the classroom, making students focus on the short, evil woman that was tormenting the school; Umbridge.

"Hello, my dear students" she smiled in a sickly manner. "Today we are learning about the theory of protection spells."

Y/n groaned, thinking other students would join her, however, it was this uncomfortable and awkward moment that everyone had decided to stay deadly silent, making her disapproving groan loud and clear to be heard.

"Is there an issue, miss Y/l/n?" Umbridge smiled in the evilest way she could.

"No, no, of course not. I always wanted to listen about the theory of protection spells." Y/n smiled in the fakest way possible.

"Is that irony I am sensing, Y/l/n?" Umbridge had a more serious look now, her smile not decieving anyone.

"Nope." She said, emphasising the "p" sound in her lips. Out of the corner of her eye, she quickly glanced to Draco, who had a warning glare. "Don't aggravate her!" He mouthed. Y/n rolled her eyes, and unfortunately for her, Umbridge saw that, taking it as it was directed at her.

She scrunched up her nose and stomped her heel lightly on the floor, when she exclaimed: "Detention after class, miss y/l/n! That attitude of yours is no match for a young witch!"

Draco did not know why everyone was saying Umbridge's detention was horrible, he had heard she only requested some lines. Even so, her detention had gained a horrible reputation, and he didn't like it one bit that his girlfriend would be the one going there.

Even so, he was angry at her, he had warned her so many times. She was such a brat every time she spoke to Umbridge, when he had told her that every student that was leaving her detention was crying.

The DADA lesson had finished, when Y/n saw Draco stomping towards her, stopping around the 6 feet limit, keeping his distance.

"Why do you never listen?!" His angry hissing voice aggravated her even more.

"I rolled my freaking eyes, Draco, chill."

"You were sarcastic. You know you were. Are you happy now?" His glare was piercing her soul.

"I am not, actually. I would prefer no stupid rules, but I guess my boyfriend is too much of a wuss to think for himself and see how ridiculous Umbridge is."

"She just wants order. Besides, its temporary!" He half whispered, half yelled.

"Sure. Tell that to yourself to feel better, darling." Now she was mad at him. "Now excuse me, I have a detention to go to." She closed the gap between them - breaking the rule- just to bump on his shoulder angrily, and stomped past him, going to detention.

"Fine! I don't give a fuck, then!" She heard her boyfriend's voice. She knew he didn't mean it at all, but she silently prayed he changed his mind after her detention, he had an hour to think by himself after all. She was hoping for an apology.

Y/n lightly knocked on her door, listening to Draco's advice for once. She should be polite, calm and collected no matter what she said to her. She couldn't risk an expulsion. Umbridge's sickly laugh was heard. "Come in, y/l/n."

Y/n opened the door, fighting back her urge to laugh or roll her eyes. Her least favourite colour, fuchsia pink, was plastered everywhere, cats trapped on the walls, and a heavy, sickly, sugary aroma filled her nostrils, she did her best to keep her pokerface.

"Sit", the teacher ordered. "You will do some lines today, Y/n."

Relief passed through her. That wasn't that bad. She grabbed a piece of paper and moved to grab her quill, when the fuchsia toad in front of her stopped her. "Oh no, dear. I'm afraid you wont need that." She smiled, and handed her a large black feathered quill from her own collection. "Use this, please. It is one of my favourites."

Y/n grabbed the quill and moved again to reach for her ink. "Oh, silly me, I forgot." She heard the professor giggle. "You won't need any ink, dear."

She looked at Umbridge confused, her tamed eyebrows furrowing to her words. Still, she went with it. She grabbed the quill and before she started, Umbridge directed her "you shall write the line: I must not be arrogant." Y/n resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

"How many times, Professor?" She said.

"Hm... let's just say... till it sinks in." Umbridge giggled once again, sipping her tea.

Y/n scoffed silently and started writing the lines, red ink magically appearing on paper. Her left hand was uncomfortable the whole time, but she ignored it. As soon as she finished the first line, though, the discomfort became a burning sensation, and hurt so much, like someone was creating small cuts in her skin. She looked at her hand to see what was going on, only to see the line she wrote engraved in her hand.

'You evil bitch' Y/n thought.

Every time she would rewrite the sentence, it was like the invisible knife digged deeper and deeper in her skin, twisting at each twist of the quill. She looked at Umbridge with teary eyes, a silent plea to stop this torture. Blood was seeping out of her wound uncontrollably now, staining her robe. Umbridge just glanced at her and said "one more page."

Through silent tears, a wrecked bloodied hand, trembles and gritted teeth, she finished her torture without making a sound. She excused her self, said goodbye to the professor, and closed the heavy door behind her, exhaling with a trembled sob escaping her lips. An exhale that she was holding for an hour.

She contained her tears and hid her hand from plain sight. She did not want to worry anyone, and she sprinted with all the energy she could muster to the dungeons. She just wanted to wash it off, wrap it in a clean cloth, and have a good cry.

As she was approaching the dungeons, it dawned on her: she could run up to Draco there. What should she do? On one hand, the thought of making him feel bad enticed her, she was still mad about his behaviour. On the other hand, she knew he meant no harm, and that he would make her start a legal war with Umbridge. She really didn't want to do anything right now, as much as she hated her guts.

She hid her hand better, wiped her eyes, took a few deep breaths and prayed that her boyfriend was not in the common room, as she opened the door.

Unbeknownst to her, Draco was waiting restlessly at the common room all this time. He didn't like the fact they fought before, he hated not being on good terms with Y/n. He didn't think he was entirely on the wrong though. 'Maybe if she listened to me once in a whi-'

His thoughts came to a halt when he saw a trembling Y/n enter the common room. Her eyes were red and glassy, and she was crouched in a weird position. He instantly forgot everything he was thinking of and sprinted towards her. When her eyes fell on him, she inhaled sharply, sttaightening her posture. He was terribly worried and she could feel it.

"Darling?" His soft voice was music to her ears.

Her eyes avoided his, refilling with tears just from his worried voice.

"I-I need to go to my room." She said with a lowered gaze.

"Tell me what's wrong please-"

"I thought you didn't give a fuck." Her voice was low when she said it, her teary eyes finally meeting his. She did not mean to snap at him, but everything was too much.

He finally locked eyes with her now, the emotion he saw in her overtaking him. He pursed his lips and looked down.

"I'm sorry. You know - baby you know thats not true. I want to know what happened. What did she say to you that made you cry? You don't cry easily, I know that. If you want I'll report her!" He was frantically searching for her gaze again, his grey irises full of concern.

"She said nothing bad to me. She instructed me through my lines." She avoided his gaze once again.

He lowered his gaze as well, and broke the -for once- uncomfortable silence, his voice slightly broken.

"Do you not trust me?"

His words echoed in her head. She did. She did with her life. She could not stay mad at him, no matter her anger. "I do. I'm sorry, I'm a-a bit of a m-mess, i'll tell you, j-just give me a few m-minutes..."

His hand grabbed hers to pull her into an embrace, to hold her close, to calm her. As soon as his hand grasped her own, though, a strong wave of stinging pain shot through her, a hissing sound escaping her lips as she yanked her hand away. She was holding it close to her heart, a few hot tears escaping her eyes. There was no escape now.

Draco looked at her wide eyed, a blank expression of confusion mixed with worry resting on his features. "What-"

He looked down on his hand. Blood.

He inhaled sharply. Blood? His heart was pounding in his chest now, his fury for Umbridge boiling. What exactly happened in her detentions?

"Darling." He spoke. His voice was low and steady, and Y/n could swear she could hear her own heartbeat. "Your hand. Please." He extended his own to signal her to give her hers. Slowly, she put her bloodied palm on his own.

"Did she do this?", he hissed angrily. Y/n nodded but winced at his tone, not ready for facing an angry Draco. He saw that, and his features calmed down.

He grasped her shoulders carefully, gently pulling her in a hug, lightly kissing her forehead and letting his lips linger there. He tilted her chin up, pressing a quick peck on her lips.

"Im not mad at you". He said steadily, to show he meant every word. "I'll kill her, honestly" he mumbled, as his eyes examined the wounds.

"I must not be arrogant?!?"

He felt his anger rise again, as he managed to read the cuts that were filled with blood.

"She h-had a black quill. I would write on paper and it would transfer the letters in m-my hand. Must be c-cursed." Y/n said between small sobs.

His one arm cradled her head and she felt him moving the other one on her waist, urging her to move. "Come on, lets get you cleaned up. I'll send a letter to my father. She will be out of her position tomorrow."

Y/n's eyes widened "No n-no I-"

Draco didn't let her finish "Y/n, I love you but please shut up."

For the first time in a while, Y/n giggled, music to Draco's ears.

He took his time being extra gentle on her wound, making sure it is clean, before putting a few healing spells on it, muttering apologies whenever Y/n would wince.

"Tomorrow your hand will be good as new. Trust me."

"I trust you Draco. Thank you."

His eyes looked up from her wound, and Y/n was sure she could melt. He had the softest gaze ever. They fell asleep in each other's embrace, soft kisses taking away the pain.

The next morning, Y/n could hardly stiffle a laugh at the annoucement of Umbridge being suddently fired. She turned at her boyfriend, who looked smug as ever.

His eyes glimmered and his eyebrows wiggled with smugness, as he said:

"She should not have been that arrogant. Guess karma is a bitch." He shrugged.

That Malfoy boy was your everything and you knew it.

FEEL FREE TO LIKE AND SHARE!! Feedback is always welcome, love you all!

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noblecrumpet-dorkvision · 4 years

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Overland Travel as a Dungeon

With D&D being canceled last night due to Roll20 issues, I’ve had time to do extra prepwork! I’m trying something new to take the tedium out of overland travel by making it more like a dungeon with “rooms” depending on the choices the players make (the labels are GM-only for my own reference)

I’m also making Long Rests during travel more difficult (so I don’t have to challenge them with deadly encounters at every step): Each long rest, players will need to choose between regaining their hit points, regaining half their max hit dice, or regaining their spell slots/long-rest-recharging features. In other words, three long rests will end up equaling 1 true long rest. They can choose the same thing multiple times in a row.

All encounters are established ahead of time, but which ones they encounter are based on their decisions. My rules for designing the encounters:

75% of encounters must progress the story (7/9 advance the plot here)

Each must be foreshadowed in the players’ options. They should know the extent of dangers of their choices.

50% should be non-combat (traps, RP, skill challenge, etc)

Here are the encounters the players face while in the swamp:

Inclement Weather

A torrential rainstorm begins to rage. (these ones are non-plot encounters)

Seek cover and wait it out: The tree the players rest beneath loosens from a rush of water and falls over, burying and suffocating those that fail the save. Three successful Athletics checks frees them.

Keep moving carefully: A spinosaurus hunts the players using the rain to cover its approach.

Night Terrors

There are no encounters during the day but the players will need to make survival checks to stay on the newly-flooded path. At night, our warlock-turned-wizard has dreams relating to their shadowy ex-patron, who desperately wants control of her back but an amulet is keeping the patron at bay. When she awakens, one of her allies was mind-controlled into stealing the amulet and throwing it into the muck. After the charm fades, shadow stags attack once the warlock is vulnerable (I took large Giant Elks and combined them with undead Shadows, and had their dash create a trail of magic darkness).

Flooded Path

The road passes through a valley that got flooded by the rain.

Cross the Water: The players spot a crocodile in the water. It ignores them for now but it seems the water might be dangerous. They will also need to figure out how they are doing it (boat, swimming?) and make checks. Lizardfolk and a giant crocodile relating to the players’ past can be encountered here. They are hunting and will attack initially, but the players might be able to end combat early if they persuade them.

Find a Way Around: There is a forest filled with strange green mist, similar to a corrupted plant-hydra they saw earlier. They will need to make survival checks and regret not letting the ranger from last session help them. A hag has been corrupting the land near here, and they will get attacked by 3x owlbears with a 5′ poison aura and corrosive claws.

Old Themryl

Depending on which ways the players went, they can access different parts of an old kingdom or try to find the main road again (but, nearing the exit of the swamps, the players might want to lay low for story reasons). The other story stuff in this fork is hard to explain lacking context so I will just explain the encounters.

Investigate skulls on pikes: The players can find Themryl Gardens, a cemetery desecrated by skulls on pikes with glowing eyes. It is currently being raided by a blackguard with 3 skeleton servants. He is trying to break into a mausoleum but his skeletons are too weak. If disturbed, he summons two Flameskulls from the pikes nearby to attack.

Inside the mausoleum is a Spectator guardian. A glyph of warding trap is on a sarcophagus, which also has a secret compartment with story stuff and treasure. the corpse within is also story-related and leads to Old Themryl Keep for the other half of the info.

Find the Road: The players meet a bard belonging to their destination’s innkeepers’ guild. He seeks Old Themryl and will pay handsomely to be led there to gain inspiration for his songs. Players can ignore him if they choose, but at least they will learn about the plot dungeons if they wish to return.

Investigate the bodies: Players find bodies riddled with arrow wounds (but no arrows), crawling away from a thicket before they died. In the thicket is the half-sunken ruins of Old Themryl Keep. It is protected by Sword Wraiths (but with stats for longbows) on the battlements.

Inside, there is a simple statue puzzle and mysterious ghostly antics. The puzzle opens the next chamber.

Next room is a hallway with two normal sword wraiths. One door in the hall is caved in. Another door will open but buries the door opener in muck (trap). Last door leads to a grand hall.

Grand hall is knee-deep in water with rubble islands and a throne peeking above surface. Sword Wraith Commander is here, and summon other sword wraiths. The commander deals bonus lightning instead of necrotic and has a lair action on round 20 where he electrifies the water for a high amount of damage. Players can avoid by the islands or throne, but the minions may push them in. If put to rest, story stuff happens.

Last room has a noble’s treasure and a handmaid’s journal that dispenses plot, and leads to the cemetery for the other half of the info.

Downed Caravan

The players come by a caravan trying to fix their wheels/axle and trying to treat wounded members. One would think they were attacked by bandits, but in reality it was a patrol of corrupt soldiers demanding tax from these merchants from an enemy kingdom from New Themryl (the PCs destination). If the players help the group, they are offered a way into an enemy kingdom with shelter, and rewarded with some of their goods. If not, well... the PCs don’t gain anything. They’re just assholes.

---

And then the players arrive at their destination!

There were multiple paths, options to backtrack and explore, RP elements, mini-dungeons, skill checks, puzzles, traps, and big monsters... just like any dungeon! Feel free to steal any of this and especially the concept of “travel as dungeon” because I think it’s going to be more fun. But we will find out on our next session of the Dorkvision stream! (Sundays 9PM-12 eastern and wednesdays 7-10PM - https://www.twitch.tv/noblecrumpet)

#dungeons and dragons #DnD #homebrew #overland travel #hex crawl #encounter #random encounter

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bondsmagii · 4 years

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i hate how us centric ppl are on here. the 'support blm because without a black trans woman we wouldn't have pride' posts especially annoy be bc a) i would support blm and black trans people even if that wasn't true, this isn't a transaction, and 2) that's how pride started in the US, not everywhere! ppl from the us have never even thought to look up pride/how it started elsewhere in the world yet you're ignorant if you don't know the us history when you're not from there ..

yeah, there’s definitely a difference between the amount of news on here being predominantly American (most users on here are after all American) and the website being American-centric, because yes, most users are American but the fact that they forget that other people might not be? it does my head in. it’s something you see across the whole internet, too -- the amount of times someone’s got smart with me because I spelled something “wrong”, even ridiculing me for it, and then I’ve had to say that I’m not American and that’s how we spell it here, where the language originated... honestly.

you’re right though, it’s so frustrating that they forget that every country has its own unique history. pride is different everywhere, the history of its LGBT people is different in every country, not all countries have the same rights and challenges within the LGBT community, etc. I think you said it well when you said “it’s not a transaction” -- America is the most rabidly capitalist country on earth; I’ve often said that if the USSR is a good example of communism getting corrupted and going off the shits, the USA is the equivalent for capitalism. even the most well-meaning American has grown up in this hyper-capitalist society and it’s affected the way they see the world down to the deepest level. I think most Americans mean it harmlessly, but there is an expectation that in America, if you do something you get something for it. if you want to do something, there’s an expectation that there’s something personal in it for you, because America is a highly individualistic society.

that’s not true of every single American, of course, but I do often see this transaction attitude. “you must support [movement] because without it you wouldn’t have [thing]” is kind of ridiculous when the real reason you should be supporting it is because you know, black people shouldn’t be getting indiscriminately killed by police. naturally most people realise this, but the fact that this attitude is even seen as a viable tactic for gaining supporters is very unnerving. it’s probably also used as a guilt trip (”you can’t pretend you have nothing to do with this because [demographic] gave you [thing]!”), which is another transaction attitude -- you received something, so you have to pay something back. whereas most other cultures recognise this as a favour, Americans often see it as a binding transaction.

anyway, social culture speculation aside, it is very annoying how everyone else in the world is expected to know everything about American issues and translate everything into temperatures and measurements that they’ll understand, but good luck using colour or mentioning it was 35 degrees Celsius without a bunch of identical unfunny comments. I’ve even been accused of lying about stories because “why are you saying this just happened at 3am? it’s only 10pm...” like. who the fuck forgets about timezones?

#anon #asks

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flash-fixation · 4 years

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At Its Core

My offering for @flashfictionfridayofficial latest prompt! Apologies for any typos and also for running alightly over 1000 words... I honestly thought I woudn’t get round to this today but about 10pm an ideal formulated and then fell out of me so here you go!

This forms another part of what I’ve come to call the Ironlands Series - an urban fantasy centred around my charatcters from last weeks Flash Fiction Friday; Deira and Alia. WIP page coming soon!

At Its Core

Alia came to, her head throbbing and her vision swimming. There was something warm and wet on her forehead. She tried to reach up to it but her wrists were bound together behind her back. A tremor of fear shook her lucid. She took stock of her situation.

Her hands and ankles were tied with that horrible blue nylon rope that scratches your skin raw. She was sat on a freezing concrete floor and, judging by her numbness, had been sat for a long time. The room was lit by a single bulb near the end of its life and by its dying light she could make out shelving units filled with rusted old tool boxes and a pile of plastic sacks filled with coarse sand. She had no idea where she was.

Ignoring the aches and the unnerving sensation of whatever was oozing out of her forehead getting dangerously close to her eye, Alia desperately tried to recall what she was doing before she blacked out.

There were investigating the Sect of Alb…they were…THEY! Oh no…

“Deira! Deira!”

Something groaned behind her.

“Deira? Is that you?”

“Ugh, I think so,” came the gruff response, “my head is killing me.”

“How’s your vision? Do you feel nauseous? Any auditory symptoms?”

Deira recoiled from the quick fire questions, “Gah, shut it for a mo will you?” She gave herself a quick once over, “I’m fine, wrists are stinging though.”

“Yeah, me too. It’s the rope.”

“Crappy blue stuff?”

“Yeah.”

Deira huffed, “Cheap berks can’t even afford the nice stuff.”

“Can’t believe we got jumped by them.”

“There were a lot of them. But I take your point. Maybe I shouldn’t have skipped out on training.”

There was a wallowing silence.

“I’m sorry,” murmured Deira.

“Excuse me?” asked Alia.

“I said, I’m sorry. I should have told you where I was going. I’m sorry I flaked on training. I’m sorry I’m the reason we’ve been caught by people we should have run rings around. I’m sorry I’ve been a crap friend and I’m sorry I’m the reason you’re hurt.”

The silence redoubled. Alia was stunned. She had known something was going on with Deira but she wasn’t expecting her to reveal so much so soon. This wasn’t time to deal with all of this. Alia very nearly just brushed it away to focus on getting themselves free and back on track but something stopped her. It would have to be the time, this had been a long time coming and she deserved to heard too.

“You made me feel unimportant.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Are you? I thought we were friends. You don’t have to tell me everything but you could have told me something. I knew something was going on but instead of asking for some privacy, which I would have given you by the way, you pretended everything was fine and now everything is definitely NOT fine.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Yeah you said,” Alia sighed, “Just talk to me next time.”

“I will. I’m-“

“Don’t say it again, just do it. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Good. Now, do you have a spell or something that can get us out of these ropes? They must have taken my vials while we were unconscious.”

“I could try and conjure fire but the rope wouldn’t burn. It’s nylon so it’d melt and wreck our hands.”

“What about ice?” asked Alia.

“Eh?” the question seemed totally incongruous to Deira.

“You create fire by pumping more energy into the molecular movement of the material until it combusts, isn’t that right?”

“You listened!” Deira was momentarily stunned, she realised how she sounded when she gushed about magic but she couldn’t help herself. She had no idea Alia was taking it in.

“I always listen,” Alia said pointedly.

“Sorry.”

“Well?”

“Well, what?”

“Ice?” Alia was getting very close to being done with this whole day, “Could you take all the energy out of a material and freeze it? Then it’d be brittle enough to pull apart.”

Deira thought about this. The theory made sense, magic at its core was all about the manipulation and transformation of energy. Heat was an energy, and cold was an absence of that energy. She’d played around with cryomagic when she was a kid but she’d become too reliant in pyromancy when she discovered she could control it. The only problem was the BDT ratio. If she didn’t pull enough energy out of the rope they’d still be stuck, but pull too much and she’d destroy her own flesh. Hopefully she’d remember enough of her childhood experiments to give her enough control. She really shouldn’t have missed training.

“Right, sit tight. I’ll give it a go.”

Deira closed her eyes and concentrated of where she could feel the rope digging into her wrists. She could feel the frayed slivers of plastic scratching her skin and the irritated patches rising underneath. She focused on the artificial material, all other things fell away, there was just the blue twine. She pushed further in. She felt it hum. It was slight but the vibration was there. The molecules moved with the rhythm of all things. Deira reached out and touched it. She felt the minuscule warmth generated from this movement and pulled. The rope lurched in response, seemingly contracting as its heat started to dissipate. By degrees she drew more and more of the molecular movement into herself. On the macro level she could feel the rope starting to cool against her writs. She tried the snap the rope but it was nowhere near brittle enough to break. She had further to go, much further. She did not know how cold she would have to make it. She would be risking frostbite for sure but if she didn’t they would be at the mercy of the Sect and it would be all her fault. Pushing her focus as far as she could she pulled the energy out of the rope. She felt the particles slow their vibration. She felt the heat pooling in her hands and the rope beginning to freeze. She sucked in through her teeth sharply, the rope was burning her flesh now. Just a bit more, she told herself, just a bit more…

Alia had been sat impeccably still trying not to disturb Deira in her work. When Deira stretched out her now free arms, she jumped, “That was quick.”

“Child’s play mate,” smirked Deira, rubbing her wrists, “Let’s get you sorted.”

#flash fiction #flash fiction friday #short story #writing #new writing #writeblr #original writing #prose #fiction #urban fantasy #ironlands series #fff52 #fff52 child's play

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leviathanpotato · 6 years

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She’s not your type - Remus Lupin x oc

Part three. Nearly finished, stay with me.

Tag for @imalostredheadinablondeworld

Part one is here, part two is here.

If you’ve reached part three, you probably already know what’s going on.

Language and underage drinking. I’ve never written actual romance or angst before so this could go terribly. I don’t know what i’m doing 😱😱😱.

Sadie thought about storming straight to her dormitory, but remembered the quidditch final. Gryffindor versus Slytherin, match of the century, the common room would be barren. She had no strong feelings for the sport either way, but since Harriet was a chaser, there was no chance she’d be watching.

She sat, doodling in her diary. What was once a book with detailed descriptions for each day was now littered with aimless doodles and wistful sentences centered on Remus' hair. At the beginning of what is now fast becoming a nervous breakdown, this didn't seem weird at all, but due to their lack of contact in the recent months, it more closely resembled stalkerish obsession.

She continued to trace over a sketch of Remus she’d done. She wasn’t one to boast but this was probably the closest she would ever get to a work of art.

As she drew, she felt her subconscious nagging her. It was something about hearing the portrait door swing open. Or maybe it was about the the shadowy figure edging towards her.

With a squeak, she slammed her book shut. Remus stopped in his tracks. His eyes were wide like a startled deer. He hugged a large leather bound book to his chest. Her mind was probably playing tricks on her out of hope, but she could have sworn she saw a blush.

"Um... Sorry" He stammered. She bit her lip trying not to squeal at how adorable it was as he fumbled for the right words. "I was just hoping to join you. Sport's not really my thing." He nodded to his book hopefully.

She smiled warmly. "Sure." She nodded to the sofa which was irritatingly far away from her armchair.

He grinned and hopped onto the cushions. They both sat quietly, with Sadie stealing glances every other second, waiting for him to bring up breakfast.

After some time, she kept hearing Remus giggle softly to himself, a sound which she couldn't help but smile at. She watched him laughing to himself, for the first time in months that twinkle had returned to his eye.

"What?" She asked, grinning. He looked up, startled, as though he forgot she were there.

"There's just this quite funny bit. It doesn’t matter, you probably won't find it that good" He mumbled.

She shuffled in her armchair and patted to the space she had created. "Show me"

His eyes widened for a moment, before he stood and made his way over to the chair. He wedged himself in next to her and the pair of them were practically in each other’s arms. They both sat, content, reading together – something Sadie knew for a fact he and Harriet had never did. She thought about every time they’d hung out, shared books, music, clothes and food – each an action she did far more often with Remus than any other friend. In a snap, she suddenly realized that her feelings had been around for a lot longer than she thought– way before Harriet snatched him. Surely he’d noticed at some point?

So why had he chosen Harriet?

He doesn’t want you.

Why would he?

She pushed the thoughts deep down in her mind, returning back to the book until she heard roaring cheers in the distance.

“Someone’s scored.” Remus mumbled, smiling at her.

For once, she didn’t return the smile. “Probably Princess Wilde.” She muttered.

Remus shifted, taken aback by her sudden change of attitude. He looked into her eyes, which were firmly fixed on his book. He sighed.

“Look, if this is about this morning-”

“It isn’t”

“- I really have no clue what went down between you two-”

“That helps.”

“-but please could you try to get along-”

“Fat chance”

“-I really appreciate your company.”

“Wow, thanks” She sneered.

He was tugging at his collar now, clearly getting frustrated. He placed the book on the table and stood up, pushing her up as he did so. Whether he intended to, she wasn’t sure.

“Listen, I don’t know what has been up with you lately but you don’t have to take out your problems on other people.” He said, his tone stern.

“Since when did I have problems?” Sadie mocked his word choice by making quotation marks with her fingers. She’d been in a bad mood for a while now, this morning had worsened it drastically. All she wanted now was for Remus to go away; she really didn’t want to talk at all.

He blinked, taken aback. “Since you stopped hanging around with us, since you’ve been losing sleep, since you’ve been failing you’re classes… ooh, hang on, how about since you barely eat your breakfast anymore.” His voice was growing louder by the second, his face was becoming flushed.

“Now you notice.” She yelled. He flinched. “That’s pretty much my normal routine at this rate Remus. Interesting you bring it up after - oh, I don’t know – half a fucking year.” She fought back tears. “I guess you only care about your beautiful Harriet.”

A dark look flashed in his eyes, reminiscent of the wolf Sadie pretended that she wasn’t afraid of. “Am I not allowed to care about both, Sadie? Yes, I’ve been with Harriet because I love her but you’re worrying me, you’re my friend” – She cringed and he noticed , fury flashed in his eyes – “What? Am I not allowed to love someone? Is that it? I thought you knew how much I want to just have a normal relationship.” He raged.

“But with her, Remus. Don’t you think I’ve noticed how she doesn’t let you be herself, or how you don’t smile like you used to. She’s using you and you know it. There’s not a chance in hell she loves you and I doubt you feel much more.” Sadie pleaded desperately.

For a second, she worried that he might blast her with a spell. His hands were shaking, his wand held tight in his fist.

“I love her. Besides, it’s not like I have much choice, name anyone who could actually love me, let alone stay when they find out the truth. Name one single person.” His voice shook.

Her heart was tearing at itself, a weight plummeting in her stomach. Part of her wanted to slap him in his stupid face, another part wanted to kiss him with all the passion she had in her body. “Do you really need telling?” She whispered, thinking back to how he possibly could think that she didn’t love him.

“YES.” He half-screamed.

Before she could respond, the portrait door was flung open. First years hurtled into the room, giggling giddily with excitement. She could hear the rowdy chants and cheers echoing down the corridor. It wouldn’t take long for James, Sirius and Lily to arrive and instantly spot her foul mood. She turned on her heels and stormed up the staircase. If Remus did call after her, it was drowned out by the cheering. Sadie could still hear the cheering from her room. She buried her head beneath her pillow. If there was any place she couldn’t be in right now, it was a Gryffindor party.

It had reached 10pm and the music was showing no sign of stopping. From what Sadie could hear, someone had started a karaoke and she was forced to endure endless piss-heads wailing into their wands as others cheered.

Maybe a drink can’t hurt, she thought, knowing that she had no chance of falling asleep. She crept to the cupboard to find the closest to party clothes she had– a black denim skirt and a cropped midnight blue jumper with a glowing white wolf (she really needed to go out more). After some hesitation, she applied a light layer of make-up, choosing a colour that made the green in her hazel eyes stand out beautifully. Admiring her reflection, she was beginning to feel confident in her appearance. She’d never worn makeup or flattering clothing; she aimed to lower everyone’s expectations of her appearance so much that just changing her hair for once would get people’s attention – that way she didn’t have to put any effort into her looks.

She skipped downstairs in a pair of heels that she’d charmed to make the glitter swirl and dance like shooting stars. As she stepped off the stairs, she immediately bumped into Lily.

“Sadie! I didn’t think you did parties.” She teased. Her hair was curled and her green eyes looked more beautiful than they already did. “I... Wow, you look amazing.” She marvelled in excitement.

“I could say the same.” Sadie responded, gesturing to Lily’s adorable gold dress. She bit her lip, if only she wasn’t infatuated with Remus and Lily wasn’t taken by James. Girls are so much less frustrating.

Lily grabbed her arm in a firm grip. “The boys need to see you, you’re a stunner.” She exclaimed, pulling her over towards a very drunk Sirius being supported by and even more drunk James.

“I’d really rather not.” She mumbled, trying to pull away.

She giggled, noticing their state. “Yeah, best not. Why don’t we find Remus?” She nudged her and flashed a cheeky wink.

Sadie glared at her. “No.” She hissed. Lily’s smile wavered, but not for long. She pulled her aside to the table of fire whiskey shots.

“If there’s anything that you need for boy troubles, it’s a small break every once in a while.” She handed her two shots.

“Yes. A break that I will neither remember nor want to relive. What a smart idea, I see why you’re always in charge.” She muttered, ignoring how tempting the glowing orange drink was in her fingers. She felt the regret seeping in and a drink hadn’t even touched her lips. She turned to Lily. “If it’s all the same, I might go back up.”

An hour later, Sadie was completely hammered. Lily was laughing to herself; she always had been a happy drunk. Sadie was the type of drunk to make stupid decisions. She stumbled past a passed out fourth year to get another shot. Before she could reach it, a girl slammed a boy into the wall in front of her, the pair blocking her path as they sucked each other’s faces.

She tapped the girl on the shoulder. “Excuse me?” She slurred, but they continued snogging. “I really don’t advise lips as a nutritious diet. I think its cannibalism or something.” She pressed, growing impatient. “Also can you move?”

They ignored her, the boy flipping the blonde over so she was pressed up against the stone. Sadie recognised him as the boy who sat behind her in DADA. Ordinarily, she would have known his name but her coherent thoughts had gone skipping off elsewhere.

“OI. Squid faces. Budge over fuckers, you’re blocking the path.” That was a language choice she’d regret later. The boy pushed off the girl and she stepped up to Sadie, her stilettos giving her a clear height advantage.

“What did you just say to me, bitch?”

It was Harriet.

“Yay” Sadie squeaked, doing a mini celebration that she finally had Remus to herself-

Harriet’s palm connected with her cheek. Despite Harriet rarely doing any or her dirty work, the slap still stung like a bee sting. Unfortunately for her, Sadie was pissed, very pissed.

“You know.” Sadie paused as she tripped over her foot to reach for another bottle. “You really are an air-headed hoe with the IQ of a maggot and the common sense of a dung beetle.” She snapped. The sudden outburst drew a slow clap from Lily and a fierce snarl from Harriet.

“Yeah, sure, you may look pretty, but this is one school in one country. There are thousands more all with people exactly like you.” Sadie paused to take a swig of her firewhiskey. I really ought to put this down, she thought, as she had begun to slur her words and punctuate her sentences with exaggerated hand gestures.

“You’re all the same... the same...preening...” Sadie lost her train of thoughts.

“Bitches” Lily provided, pointing finger guns at Sadie.

“Yes... that.” Sadie pointed at Harriet whilst supporting herself, almost comically, on a random second year. “The same bitches who think they’re goddesses but don’t have the personality to match. As soon as we leave this school, what are you? Your kingdom will fall and you’ll have no one to bully but yourself and the desperate wannabe’s who stalk you 24/7. Then you’ll see yourself for what you truly are - empty. You’ll have nothing. You” Sadie stumbled forwards, jabbing Harriet in the chest with her finger. “are nothing. You don’t scare me.”

Harriet scowled at her, stepping forwards. Their noses were almost touching. Sadie could smell alcohol, but couldn’t tell if it was her breath or the blonde’s in front of her. In the corner of her eye, she could see a circle of third years gathering around them. If one of them started chanting ‘fight’, Sadie feared that she might just lose her shit.

Harriet took her distraction as an opportunity to pull hard on Sadie’s ringlets, yanking her face into the stone wall.

Sadie winced as blood pooled on her tongue. She pushed herself up and lunged at Harriet’s waist. They flew backwards, Harriet’s head colliding against the table with a crack. She yelled and rolled onto her back whilst Sadie regained her balance.

“What’s going on?” A soft voice interrupted.

Sadie gave a lopsided smile towards the voice she knew so well, only for it to collapse into a frown when Harriet pushed ahead of her.

“Remus!” Harriet gave a false gasp and hobbled forwards to grab his arm. She hissed in pain as he hugged her. Sadie noticed Harriet flip the bird at her, winking, before pretending to wince in agony once more.

Sadie was having none of it. Fury boiled in her veins. Seething, she pounced forwards at Harriet and pulled her backwards, sending all three of them crashing to the ground.

With all her effort, Sadie sent Harriet sprawling away. She perched between the girl she loathed and the boy she adored, shielding him from her.

“Don’t touch my Remus you cow.” Sadie hissed, wrapping her arms around the confused werewolf.

“YOUR Remus?” Laughter spurted from her lips. “Honey, who is it who is actually, you know, in love with him? And who he loves back?” She simpered, giving a dramatic bow as her pet harpies let out shrieking laughter.

“Really? News to me.” Smirked Sadie as she raised an eyebrow. Following her gaze, everyone turned to see the boy from earlier. Shimmering red smears were smothering his face and neck, the exact same shade as Harriet’s lip gloss. Sadie wrapped an arm around Remus and pulled him closer. He yelped in surprise.

“Like I said, MY boyfriend.” Sadie beamed at her. She gave a tiny wave at Harriet’s enraged glare. “You can begone now. It looked like you two-” She glanced with amusement between her and the boy. “- were getting somewhere.”

There were several seconds of stunned silence. Slowly, the crowd dissipated. Harriet didn’t move. She watched Remus with a shark-like, dead stare that he returned. With a scowl, she brushed herself off and dragged the unknown boy to her room.

“HA!” Sadie jumped to the air. She snapped finger guns at the door. “TAKE THAT BITCH. HE’S FINALLY MINE! WOO!”

Sadie started dancing as the marauders stared between her and an increasingly awkward Remus.

“What happened to you two having a fight?” Sirius murmured to Remus, surprisingly sober considering earlier events.

“I don’t…” Remus trailed off. Sadie had latched onto him and was swaying with the music. He didn’t move until he felt a wetness spreading down his jumper. Panicking, he moved to wipe his jumper, thinking she’d vomited, until he saw her tearful eyes.

“Hey. What’s wrong?” He steadied her with his arms. Her euphoria combined with countless shots of fire whiskey had made her incredibly drunk.

“I just… I really love you. I’ve always loved you.” She paused to wipe her nose. “And seeing you with Harriet… she’s poison, Remus. I didn’t understand my feelings so I couldn’t be around you, it hurt. But you don’t want me, ‘coz why choose you… Wait… why you choose” Sadie hiccupped, then roughly pressed a finger to Remus’ lips. “I got this… Why…” She stopped, staring at Remus’ eyes. She felt herself being sucked in. She leant forwards, tilting her out towards Remus’… just one inch to go...

Remus jumped backwards. “Woah, Okay, I think you’ve had enough.” He caught her as she fell forwards.

Her eyes welled with tears. “You don’t want me.” She sniffed. “Please, I love you.” She begged, tugging at his sleeve.

Remus felt his awkwardness take over. Part of him desperately wanted to kiss her, but a more sensible half knew that it was the alcohol talking. He berated himself for even considering taking advantage of Sadie in this state.

“Come on, let’s get you up to bed.” He said, picking her up, bridal style and carrying her up the stairs.

“Remus… boys…stairs…” She mumbled, her eyes drooping as he felt her going limp.

“Sade, you are in no state to climb up the girls stairs.” Remus cautioned her, ‘and I want to keep you close by and safe.’ He added in his head.

“Lil…”

“Is occupied.” He said, thinking back to how he left her and Sirius to try and keep James under control. James drunk was a very bad idea.

Finally arriving, Remus nudged the door open with his foot and carefully placed her down on a bed. Quickly, he wrapped her in a blanket and went to get his wand. He tried not to think about how adorable she looked snuggled in his bed with her hair splayed on his pillow.

“Smells like…you.” Sadie giggled, pulling the blanket closer. “Where’re you gonna sleeeeep?”

“You need it more.” He replied. “Besides, you know me, I’m a night owl,” ‘and you look really cute right now.’

“My...wolf” She smiled, struggling to keep her eyes open. “Love…you” She whispered. Her eyes flickered shut and within seconds she was snoring softly.

One part left...

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magpieandsons · 4 years

Text

55 - Outta the Way

You and Caspin both move at the same time. You throw yourself at Aydriss as the baron rises and stabs out with the concealed knife. You feel the blade swipe past your arm, then the elvish man lands half on top of you. The three of you roll across the ground, tangled together.

Caspin starts to say something which might be a curse, and might be spell words; you don’t wait to find out which. Your angle is awkward, but you haul back and aim a solid punch at his mouth. You catch him just under the chin, snapping his head back. He becomes a dead weight again, landing on top of you with a groan.

Darrel appears above you. He drags the unconscious man up and moves away. You lie very still for several breaths, trying to assess whether any part of you has been violently stabbed. You feel more or less in one piece, so you start to sit up, and find your vest has been neatly pinned to the ground by the knife that has failed to kill you at least twice now. You wrench it from a crack in the stone, inspecting both the blade and your side for blood. You find none.

Aydriss sits beside you, breathing hard, eyes wide, one hand rubbing back and forth over his mouth. He meets your eyes, and just shakes his head.

You ask him if he’s alright. In reply, he looks down at the baron’s purse still in his grasp. He tosses it to you. You heft it in your hand. It seems impolite to look inside just now, but you like the weight and sound of it. You tuck it away.

Darrel has already re-tied Caspin’s wrists, and is fitting a makeshift gag around the man’s lolling head, using strips of cloth cut from the baron’s own coat. He asks, by way of confirming, if Aydriss is a healer.

“I’m - uh, well not by trade as such. I’m a cleric of Azuth and with any religious study there’s a certain amount of-”

Your friend waves him quiet and sets about methodically breaking Caspin’s wrists and ankles. You grimace at the first wet snapping sound, but you’re forced to admire his ruthless efficiency. Beside you Aydriss wretches a little.

Somewhere halfway through, Caspin rouses enough to start screaming into his gag and Aydriss gets to his feet with the air of a person who needs a distraction. Similarly inclined, you make your way to Murph’s body where Darrel dropped it. You saw through his belt, and remove the knife’s sheath. The weapon is more like a large dagger for you, but it seems well-made and worth keeping, especially after it spared you twice.

By the time Darrel has the baron and the body of his valet secure again, Aydriss has composed himself. Holding the bangle between two palms, he begins to work whatever magic is contained there.

He opens his hands out flat, and the bracelet hangs in air, and begins to spin, its symbols leaching a thin vapor. You’re caught up watching the motion, and you miss the moment when the world around you changes, and the garden is left behind. You’ve been transported by magical means a handful of times in your life, and there’s always a moment of disorientation as your perception catches up. This time is no different; it takes a few blinks and a shake of your head to convince your eyes that you’re staring at a table filled with magic-worker’s tools in a dark room, rather than a bier and a statue in a bright garden. In time you recognize Aydriss’ workroom.

“If you’ll leave my cousin and the - uh - corpse here,” he instructs Darrel, “and wait a moment in my library while I put the pair of them somewhere safe.” Darrel drops them both, eliciting a muffled shout from Caspin.

Smirking, you lead your orcish friend through to the library. In the spacious room, with its towering shelves, you ignore the alarmed gasps of the teenager seated behind Aydriss’ desk. You make a straight line for a window seat on the far side. Sunlight, real, warm, and blinding, is streaming through. Though mostly healed, you’re still a little achy and utterly exhausted. You stretch out in the sunshine on the cushions like a cat, and listen to Darrel awkwardly introducing himself to Solaya.

You doze, unapologetically, relishing the sun and a slight breeze. When you open your eyes, you’re surprised to find two Darrels staring down at you. As you rush to sit up, one of the hulking figures bends over in a helpless fit of high-voiced giggles, which only compounds the absurdity. You would start to believe you’d lost your wits entirely, but thankfully Solaya doffs her father’s odd hat. The orcish shape melts away around her. She gives Darrel a grand bow and hands the hat back to him. He grins, and applauds as he accepts it.

You hold out a hand to him, and ask if you can give it a try. He tips his head to the side, looking it over, then looking back at you. Finally he pulls a bright platinum coin - doubtless one of the ones you paid him with - from his pocket.

“Call it.”

- Heads

- Tails

https://strawpoll.com/s4c8cskz poll ends 6/15/20 at 10pm

#choose your own adventure #choose your own adventure fic #dungeons and dragons #dnd

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margaritas-and-melancholy · 7 years

Text

I’ll be your savior and you can be mine (destiel)

Word count: around 4230

Foreword: Foreword: This is my first EVER fanfic so I apologize if it is a little slow or if there is too much or not enough of something. It starts of pretty normal at the beginning but gets pretty sickly sweet by the end- just warning y’all...

Also its like half 2 in the morning so sorry

Sam threw the newspaper down onto the stained motel table and looked over at Dean cleaning his colt whilst humming Metallica under his breath.

“Hey, I think I found something” Sam said “It looks like our kind of thing”. Dean looked up hardly looking enthusiastic about the prospect of another job.

Him, Sam and Cas had just come from a rather nasty case of a small but powerful witch coven who had been selling revenge potions to unsuspecting clients. Those spells would then turn against the client themselves and after a trail of fairly gruesome deaths the Winchesters had got involved. It had been a simple enough hunt but both boys had got thrown around badly and even after Cas had healed the two of them Dean could still feel the effects of after hunt exhaustion starting to weigh him down.

“Oh yeah?” Dean asked and sighed with a resigned face “Shoot. What is it”. Sam picked the article back up and skimmed over it.

“Harvey, North Dakota” Sam read “In the last two months, three couples at a marriage counseling retreat ‘Serenity Falls’ have been found dead”.

Dean frowned and shrugged “Why is that our kind of thing? I know a lot of the news is actually monsters but you do know serial killers still exist right Sammy. Humans can be monsters too.”

Sam raised his eyebrows argumentatively “Dean I know. But serial killers don’t normally kill their victims leaving no visible marks on the body and still somehow managing to liquify their heart!”. At this Dean paid attention pulling a face of disgust.

“Liquified?” He repeated. Sam stood up, shrugged his jacket on and started to stuff things back in his bag.

“Yeah” Sam stated “And only the heart, coroner opened up the bodies and it was completely gone...mush” .

Dean grimaced “Ohh that's just nasty”. He also stood up and began throwing his weapons back in his duffle bag. “Okay so we wait for Cas to come back then go”

Soon after that the motel door opened and Cas stepped into the room carrying two large bags of takeout. “I brought the food” he announced to the boys and then turned to look at Dean with a satisfied smile “And I brought pie!”

Dean grinned back at Cas “Awesome!” he said looking at Sam pointedly “He never forgets you know”. This brought on an epic eyeroll from Sam who otherwise ignored Dean and turned to the angel “Cas we found a case, ready in 10?”.

Dean could see Cas smiling proudly behind him and chuckled softly. He thought it was so sweet how his friend was always trying his best to get exactly what Dean asked. Dean remembered back to a bashful Cas telling him the story of when he terrified a store clerk half to death trying to get pie and smiled more.

---

They all gathered their belongings and piled into the Impala settling in for the relatively short three hour drive ahead. Dean immediately turned up the radio jamming in a beat up Zeppelin cassette and starting to sing along in a gruff, off key tone whilst the car sped onto the highway.

Sam groaned “Jesus Dean you need to get new music, at least stop singing...please?!”. Dean grinned in mock offense “What do you mean Sammy, you love my singing”

“No Dean, you love your singing “ Sam retorted “Cas and I really don’t, right Cas?”

Cas shifted uncomfortably in the backseat “I don’t really mind, I quite like it”. This caused Sam to snort and turn away to smirk at the window with a face that said ‘Of course you do’.

The truth was Cas did like Dean's singing. Sure it wasn’t good, or anywhere even near in tune but driving in the car and shouting along to rock music was one of the few times Dean ever seemed relaxed. Cas enjoyed seeing Dean completely peaceful, watching the crinkles around his eyes and frown lines smooth out on his forehead, softened by the music.

He was glad that Dean, with so much hardship and struggle in his life was just able to let go of his fear, anger and self-loathing and Cas would just sit and quietly watch the joy radiating from Dean's face like sunlight for as long as it was there.

When they arrived in Harvey, ND it was around 10pm so instead of going to visit the retreat they decided to park straight at a motel to try to have the first half decent nights sleep in days and plan for the next morning.

They ordered a room with two kings as usual and were so used to the side glances of the staff at 3 men sharing a 2 bed room they didn't even notice the eyebrow raise of the receptionist. Of course they didn't particularly care what the staff thought. It wasn’t as if they were going to be able to explain that Cas was an angel of the Lord and as such didn’t need to sleep.

---

After yet another greasy dinner of cheap burgers, and Sam complaining about the lack of green within their diet, Sam and Cas sat at the small room table with Dean perched on the end of a bed strategizing about how they were going to scope out what had been going on.

“We can’t do the FBI routine Dean” Sam insisted “It's a couples retreat with psychiatrists...that means patient confidentiality” he stressed.

Cas nodded “So then we go undercover at the facility?” he asked unsurely. This was what the boys usually resorted to when they needed to shed the fed suits. He had really been trying to understand the hunter lifestyle and wanted to prove he was an asset to the boys. He was done feeling like dead weight.

Dean frowned at Cas and looked at him pointedly “Cas it's a retreat for couples... you get that right?”.

“Yes Dean” Cas replied simply.

“Well I don’t see any couples here, do you?” Dean asked roughly. He could feel his face getting hot immediately after asking the question and seriously regretted it. He deliberately looked away from Cas and felt his stomach knot for a second imagining what he would respond.

Cas then narrowed his eyes in confusion “No...but that's what ‘going undercover’ means right? Pretending”. Immediately Dean relaxed and gave Cas an easy smile replying

“Yeah sure”

At the same time Dean couldn't quite understand the small pang of disappointment that he felt at Cas’s answer. He shook his head slightly just to himself and put the weird feelings down to exhaustion, why would he be feeling disappointment! It wasn't as if he swung that way and in any case Cas was his closest friend, that would just be weird.

But as Dean looked up to Cas he found the angel staring intensely at him with an indiscernible expression clearly deep in thought and If Dean didn’t know any better, slightly sad.

“Well obviously me and Sammy aren’t gonna do it and so that means you and Sammy will have to go” Dean said as if there really was nothing left to be said. Sam tilted his head to the side and looked at Dean firmly.

“Actually no..” He started “You and Cas need to be the couple here, I’ve got research to be doing for Bobbies case in Minnesota and I’ve got to start digging into the lore to find an explanation for the liquefaction”. Dean opened his mouth to start argueing but Sam cut him off with a smile “Do you want to do the research instead Dean?”

Dean snapped his mouth closed and got up to go to the bathroom grumbling “I swear to God if they make me talk about my feelings I’m going to-”

Sam laughed after Dean rolling his eyes and saw Cas looking a little bit worried. “If Dean really doesn’t want to go with me we can do something else right?” Cas asked looking almost pleadingly at Sam. Inwardly the younger winchester grinned, he wasn’t going to let them get out of this one so easily. It was high time Dean and Cas sorted out the awkward tension that had been growing between them in the last couple of months. Sam was fed up of being caught next to weird silent stares between the two of them.

Sam smiled reassuringly at Cas and brushed off his concern “Don’t worry he doesn't mind, he is just trying to be macho”

Cas nodded slowly only seeming a tiny bit less confused. “Right” he replied and abruptly stood up and went to the window to stare out into the dark parking lot.

For what seemed like the hundredth time that day Sam shook his head in a mix of frustration and amusement. Angels were strange.

---

The next morning Cas and Dean drove to Serenity Falls retreat and parked the Impala outside a high wrought metal fence that hid the massive white building complex inside. As they walked towards the main gate beautifully landscaped gardens came into view with fountains and pastel lawn chairs. The main building itself had probably been a large mansion before it was converted into the retreat and it was beautiful with statues and trailing roses climbing up the walls.

Dean grimaced “I’m going to be sick” He waved his hand in the general direction of the picturesque building “Seriously if we don’t at least get to kill something after this...I’m going to be pissed”.

Cas frowned, he knew Dean well and was already beginning to anticipate how difficult the next weekend here was going to be.

Still, while Cas was here on the job he was determined to enjoy himself, even If he did have to drag Dean kicking and screaming all the way. He imagined Dean felt uncomfortable with pretending to be in a relationship with him but for Cas it felt like the most natural thing in the world.

It had felt like his pretense had been going on for so long that now ironically was his chance to finally be honest with how he felt.

Ever since he raised Dean from perdition he had felt deeply bonded to what he now very much considered his human.

Cas watched as Dean fiddled with an intercom on the gate and he let his eyes rest on Dean's bicep where his handprint had been.

When Castiel had first left heaven he didn’t understand what it was he had felt about Dean. He had assumed it was normal for an angel to feel that way about the human he had saved, and had fought a war with.

But that criteria would also apply to Sam and Cas’s fondness for Sam couldn’t even hope to begin to compare to the strength of emotion he was flooded with every time he even looked at Dean.

Every time he looked at his hunter he was hit with a new wave of love for Dean; joy at being in his company and pride that Dean trusted him so implicitly. He also was filled with terror, because for a human who seemed so strong and rough, Dean was so so breakable, so vulnerable and easily damaged.

Dean pushed open the gate and held it open to let Cas through. They both walked up the long driveway to the main entrance in silence. Looking at the angel from his peripheral vision Dean saw Cas deep in thought as per usual and he wondered what he was thinking about now.

Entering the lobby the men approached a shiny white desk where a thin blonde was gushing down the phone brightly. Dean looked around the glossy room covered in heart motifs and snorted in disdain.

“May I help you?” Deans judgement was cut short by a loud interlude by the pretty receptionist. Usually this was when Dean would start his conquest on her but he felt no desire to flirt and no attraction even though she was clearly very attractive. Anyway, Dean thought, it would ruin the case if he were to start flirting with her when he was supposed to be Cas’s boyfriend.

“Uhh yeah hi” he replied brightly “The names Winchester, we called this morning, we have an appointment with the head councillor?” As if to validify his words he casually slung an arm around Cas’s shoulders and squeezed him closer.

He nudged Cas who took the cue and also smiled encouragingly at the girl. “Right of course. Well If you would just…” Dean missed most of what she started to say when he felt the solid grasp of Cas’s arm snake around his waist and his hand rest lightly against Dean’s hipbone. He glanced at Cas but he wasn’t looking back and so Dean swallowed hard and shut up.There was something about the ease and comfort of the gesture that meant it wasn't that awful after all.

Dean looked back up at the receptionist who was looking at him expectantly. Damn. “Sorry what?” Cas tapped his free hand on Dean's chest and then pushed a sheet of paper towards him.

“The paperwork honey, your signature” he gently reminded Dean.

“Oh yeah” Dean half laughed shortly still shocked from the effortless way Cas had touched him. Of course Dean knew they were supposed to be acting but was that strictly necessary?

He glanced down and yet again felt the surge of adrenaline rush through him at the fact Cas had written ‘Dean and Castiel Winchester’. Dean wouldn't even begin to admit it but he liked the sound of that, he like it a lot.

He signed the paper and pushed it back to the receptionist who filed it away and got up to lead them to their appointment. Dean looked over Cas’s face and the angel turned to meet his gaze smiling serenely at Dean's subtle eyebrow raise.

Not being able to question Cas’s behavior out loud, Dean simply let himself stare into the depths of Cas’s eyes. He just allows himself to marvel at their perfect tint of blue, letting a fuzzy warmth build up in his chest. Friends could appreciate how the other was good looking Dean thought; he was straight, not blind.

Still Dean broke away from the intense staring match first at the sound of the receptionists piercingly friendly “follow me”. Immediately he felt a cold hollow ache take hold of his chest like a loss for a memory he didn’t have.

Without thinking he slipped his hand into Cas’s as they walked along the corridor feeling his soft skin and warmth next to his own calloused hunter palms. Although not looking directly at him, Dean could still see and feel Cas’s surprise as his full lips parted slightly and his pupils dilated in shock.

The receptionist dropped the two of them off at a doorway at the end of a long corridor marked Dr. Feliciano. The door was open and the girl gestured that they go directly inside.Still keeping hold of Cas’s hand Dean steered him to the two chairs on one side of a long mahogany desk. On the other side was a smart looking woman, probably in her 50s with light grey hair neatly pinned back in a french twist.

Dean sat whilst Cas used his other arm to pull his chair closer to Dean and also sat. Cas then moved forward minutely so that their thighs were just touching and they could feel each others body warmth from the point of contact. Dean felt his muscles jump as if he had been shocked with electricity and tried not to tighten his grip on Cas’s hand in surprise. Instead he smiled broadly at the Doctor opposite them.

“Hi” He nodded at her. And she beamed back at them, her face crinkling at the corners from years of smiling. It was easy to see all of her wrinkles were laughter lines as she gazed tranquilly at the ‘couple’.

“Hello” she spoke, her soft tone matching her gentle appearance. “It's lovely to meet you both”

“Its great to be here” Cas insisted enthusiastically and in the back of his mind Dean couldn't help but agree, sitting stress free with his favorite person - who wasn't his brother of course- and perhaps the heavy presence of love and happiness was rubbing off on him. Dean decided not to care just then, he could do with a bit of zen in his life.

The doctor sat back in her chair and extended her hands. “So, why specifically are you two boys here...what do you want to work on in your relationship”. Dean was not prepared for that, he opened and closed his mouth trying to think of a convincing answer and stared fixedly at Cas.

Thankfully his angel came to the rescue and looking measuredly at Dean replied “Honesty, sharing what we really feel” and glanced back at the doctor who was nodding understandingly.

“That's very common boys, many people find it hard to reveal their true feelings to others or to express just how profound and deep those feeling may be”. Dean just nodded without paying much attention. He was too occupied with what Cas had just said.

It sounded sincere but surely Cas wasn't that good of an actor. He felt a little spark of happiness rise up in his stomach before he squashed it and returned to business mode, there would be time to ask Cas about it later.

“Soo, how did you two meet?” Dr Feliciano asked. Dean half laughed and replied

“He literally saved me from hell”. Both of them smirked at this, they didn’t even have to lie about anything.

She gave them both a sympathetic nod “It is important to have people close to us and in a relationship that we can lean on to help us defeat our demons”

Dean was torn between finding her blind accuracy hilarious and thinking about all the times that he had really needed Cas and Cas had always been there for him, a rock that never left even when it felt like everyone else had deserted him.

He was reminded of something Cas had said long ago “I always come when you call”.

His angel had always been there to raise him up; not only from hell but from his own personal hell in his mind. Huh. His angel. He hadn't noticed that he had been thinking that but he guessed it was true, Cas really was his personal guardian angel. Dean wondered why. There was no apocalypse any more, heaven was stable. Cas could have gone a long time ago but he had stayed.

The doctor sat up and announced “Okay so now we have discussed what you want to work on I will make up a schedule for you both. Take a day off today, enjoy the garden, we also have sports facilities and a restaurant to enjoy.”

---

All three of them started to get up and the doctor herded the men outside the door pressing a piece of paper in Castiel's hand with a room number written on it. “Take this down to reception and give it to Jenny. It's your room. Sessions will start at 11am tomorrow-have a good day boys”

They both smiled and thanked her before heading back down the busy corridor. “It's not exactly a day off though” Dean grunted “We need to find where they keep patient records and soon before it gets too quiet around here”

“Dean, we still need to find our room” Castiel reminded him whilst reaching back to grab Dean's arm in order to stop him getting stuck behind a large group of chattering couples exiting a yoga studio.

“Yeah we do” Dean agreed and licked his lips nervously “And I need to talk to you Cas” he said pulling his arm away from Cas who narrowed his eyes and stared at dean questioningly but said nothing.

They quickly made their way down to the lobby and were guided to the residential wing of the building which was decorated in tasteful neutral tones and calm blues.

“Well thank god” Dean muttered closing the door of their room once they had both entered “At least this is less freakin girly”

“Umm yeah” Cas murmured and Dean turned to see what was preoccupying him. Oh. Of course this was a retreat for couples, so only one bed. But then Dean's brow furrowed, so what? Why would Cas make a big deal about that now since he doesn't even sleep. Unless their dynamic had changed so drastically in one day….

Dean just needed to spit it out. So clenching his fists with the effort of looking Cas directly in the face he began “Cas..” . Cas returned his look with a more guarded glance of his own and stepped closer towards dean, sliding off his trench coat.

Dean huffed out a breath heavily. Before they arrived he and Sam had convinced Cas to change out of his suit and put on jeans instead. They had actually bought his own clothes so the fitted black t-shirt he wore perfectly outlined his lean but defined muscles in his arms and back. Dean had to drop his gaze in order to concentrate repeating in his head “Not gay, stop looking, stop being creepy”.

Whilst repeating his mantra to his shoes Dean hadn't noticed Cas stepping closer to him until he felt a light touch on his arm where his scar used to be and he felt the heat rolling off Cas’s chest warming his own skin. He looked up and all thoughts of personal space evaporated along with his will to resist the temptation to look at Cas.

Standing under the light all the features of Dean's personal savior were thrown into perfect detail. Neither of them spoke for a few seconds and Dean allowed his eyes to roam over Cas’s collarbones, the soft skin of his neck and the sharp angles of his jawline finally sinking into the depths of the blue eyes which seemed to pierce his soul.

Dean cleared his throat and started again “Cas what you said back there” his voice began to waver “about being honest with our feelings, what did you mean?”. The end of the question came out raw and vulnerable.

Cas couldn't believe Dean was letting him get this close, he had suspected perhaps the hunter had reciprocated his feelings but never imagined he would openly share them like this. It was now or never and Cas knew he had to take his change even if it meant rejection and heartbreak.

“I meant I need to be honest with you Dean” He whispered “About my feelings for you”. Cas gently placed his hand on the side of Dean's face molding it to his cheek. In response as if by instinct Dean felt himself lean into Cas, eyes fluttering closed and breathing out hot air across Cas’s palm.

“Dean. I love you.” Cas murmured as he caressed down Dean's cheekbone sliding his fingers across his lips to stop him replying “I love you, and I need you. I need you more than God, more than Heaven, more than my purpose because you are my purpose now. I want to care for you and protect you, I want to grow with you and know that everyday I can wake up and see you next to me”.

He let his hand fall from Deans face and stared at Dean not bothering to conceal the fire in his eyes, the desperation for Dean to want him back.

Dean felt the loss of Cas’s hand on his face like the rip of a band aid coming off and it hurt. But the pain suddenly made everything snap into focus for the first time in years Dean could see Cas clearly without any of the filters made of excuses he had used.

“I love you too Cas” Dean choked out eyes dampening slightly as the dizzy revelation shook him to the core.

They were not sure who moved first but suddenly they were in each other's arms gripping each other as tight as they could and nuzzling into necks- the type of embrace that would bring comfort and solace after the pain of being separated for so long. Then Cas placed a simple kiss on Dean's lips which turned into many soft and sweet, loving kisses, each one healing the other, making up for every day they had missed out on.

They passed the evening in this way sat on the bed in mostly silence and declarations of commitment to each other. Each gentle kiss was a reminder of how they never had to be alone again. Dean often stopped to repeat “Cas, I love you” or to slide his hands over the smooth hard planes of Cas’s back and stomach as if he were trying to memorize every inch of Cas’s skin.

And when the night came both men simply lay next to each other under the covers legs tangled together with Cas snuggled under Dean's arm resting his head on Dean's chest. He prefered it this way round, not because he was slightly smaller, he had already made his preference for taking control clear, but because this way he could always hear Dean’s heartbeat.

His hunter was so brave and so good, so loving and giving. He was so broken, fragile and delicate. But as long as Cas could hear Dean’s heartbeat he knew his hunter was safe.

Sooo, what do y’all think? This might end up being a part one if I feel like writing more :)

#destiel #destiel fluff #destiel one shot #destiel fic #spn fanfic #spn fanfiction #spn one shot #spn fluff #supernatural one shot #supernatural fanfic #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fluff #Dean/Cas #writing #my writing

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shawnjacksonsbs · 6 years

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The balancing of my simplistic complexities. 1-28-18

If I say the word balance, I imagine that most people think of equal amounts of weight on either side of scale with equal amounts of pressure on each side. For me, I picture someone walking a tight rope. In the beginning; lots of ups, downs, sways, and maybe even several falls. With years of practice someone may actually be able to walk from one sky scraper to another or across the Grand Canyon. I’ve seen it done.

So, we decided to start watching the Sons of Anarchy, mainly because the cousin and my son haven’t seen it before, at least not from the beginning. I have, but it is definitely one worth watching again. It’s a great show. As we binge watched the first season in just a few days, I started catching quotes I wanted to use, and thought of so many ways to twist it into something I could make an entry from, then it hit me.

I vaguely remembered writing an entry once before relating to some of the show. It felt like it would have been early on, so I looked. Needless to say, it took me a while to scroll back that far, but I found it, and I read it. If you’d like to read it, you can follow this link ( https://shawnjacksonsbs.tumblr.com/ ) and type this title in to the search header, “How I feel I relate to Jackson Teller and shit!! 2/22/2014”. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that it’s been about two years since I wrote it. I have heard more than once that the spells come in two-year periods.

Anyways, I had planned on opening with one these quotes, and then twisting a narrative, to something that fits some part of my past; “Anarchism stands for the liberation of the human mind from the dominion of religion and liberation of the human body from the coercion of property; liberation from the shackles and restraint of government. It stands for a social order based on the free grouping of individuals.” - Emma Goldman

“We all had our problems with authority, but none of us were sociopaths. We came to realize that when you move your life off the social grid you give up the safety that society provides.” - John Teller S.O.A.

But have since decided not to go that route, exactly. Most of the old lifestyle was just that, old bullshit, but all of the pieces of my past, and my past experiences are what make up the whole me. I am afraid that my moral compass will never point to true North. It probably points more west by northwest nowadays, but that’s a far cry better than the south by southeast direction it used to point towards.

I’m as close as I’m ever going to get. As free as I am today, I still miss some of it, sometimes. Different times from my past that I call the good memories. Some of which would still be looked at in disgust from people who never lived that way. I also carry a lot of baggage with me from things I’ve done that I’ll never be able to share in here, or to anyone. And as I’ve said a million times before, the good memories will never outweigh the bad or outweigh the positives I’ve gained since.

The longing still hits me from time to time though. I’ve been on every rung of the verbally ladder, from the top of a crew calling shots to the bottom of the pyramid, breaking into abandoned houses stealing wire and spending all night stripping it, so the next morning we could be at the Recycler when they opened to get just enough money to score just enough dope to get through the day. I even miss some of those times, or the memory of them. If that makes sense. Some of the dumbest, most ignorant events from my past can put a smile on my face when I think about them. For all of you who just don’t get it, that’s all right. That part makes me fucked up, not you. My brain isn’t wired exactly like normal people.

I’ll never be able to clear away all of it, as much as I wish I could, but at least I can be grateful that my firm hold on this side of life doesn’t have anything to do with just one piece of my past, but instead it’s the sum total of it altogether. I’m never going to be, fully, like most people. We may never see eye to eye on every issue, but we do and will continue to have some commonalities. For those of you, like me, that feel like they don’t fit completely with this side, or the other, there is good news. We don’t have to. The only side we have to align with, is our minds with our hearts, our true hearts. Failing to fit in with the norm isn’t failing for real, its gaining ground really. You are closer than you think when you realize this.

Good and bad and right and wrong aren’t always in sync. When you can do something bad, and it feel good, you know it’s time for an alignment, if you can stop feeling the good long enough to realize you need it. It’s a huge difference. Although most of us actually know what right and wrong is or means, it rarely waivers, but our moral compasses can definitely change direction a lot throughout our lives, for any number of reasons.

I’m fortunate that I have this outlet. Wearing my heart on my sleeve for all the world to see the kind of man I say I am, and it means living up to all the things that you read. My journey, in this journal form, keeps me planted in accountability. The reminiscing of exaggerated, old, grandiose memories can get me caught up quick if I am not careful though. Luckily, in the course of the last few days, I went from missing some of the life to being completely sickened by the fact that I can still be drawn to it, or the memory of it.

Sometimes my writing can be nonsense, and sometimes it’s to relate to others. Sometimes it’s to unclog my head, but every single time, it’s for clarity (for me). It’s better than meditation. It is my weekly alignment. Sometimes, actually, most times it’s aimed to be well intentioned truths, at least as I see them. Sometimes they are more vague than others, but all for good reason. Writing this blog has saved my life and keeps my peace of mind. It’s a bonus if it touches someone else, anyone else. Sometimes it’s just my opinion, which, as I read the other day is really “the lowest form of human knowledge; it requires no accountability, no understanding. The highest form of knowledge, according to George Eliot, is empathy, for it requires us to suspend our egos and live in another’s world.”

I also heard once, that “the self-loathing becomes a little more tolerable with service to others”. I suppose it comes in varying degrees at certain levels per individual. Just like my confusion as I go from writing about “brotherhood and loyalty” to “The company we keep”, and from being fond of memories to having them disgust me at the same time, but because of what I did and why, compared to how I choose to live now. It can probably be difficult to understand, but trust me, sometimes it’s even difficult for me.

Staying up until almost midnight on Wed because as I laid in bed, I’d get a partial paragraph in “note” form in my head, so I would type it in my phone real quick, then I’d close my phone, then something else would hit, I’d open it up, type another note, etc. I am usually in bed and asleep by 10pm. That’s what this blog means to me. It has changed a lot since I started writing it, but still going in the same direction. More forward progress makes for a different Shawn, a constantly ever-changing Shawn, whose writing should be ever-changing too, to reflect that. No one needs to worry, unless I stop writing entirely. That’s when you should send help. lol

With all this in my head, I have also talked to the attorney we plan to hire to help my son (the one out here and the one is living right now), and its going to be a long, hard, and a very extensive road for us to get through, but I know we will get through it. I have also heard some vague rumors, from a few other people about this and just makes me sick that we didn’t get him out here fast enough. One way or another we will work it out.

On a more positive note, someone I know through my work that I respect, pulled me to the side the other day. He told me that he was fixing to buy another property and was kicking around the idea of turning his other one into a multi-room clean and sober living house, or maybe a transitional housing for people getting out. He said if it works out, he would need someone to oversee it, from the inside. Like living there with them. Still going to work and just making sure things stay in order in the evenings etc. He offered it to me. That made me feel pretty good. Trust like that is pretty rare these days, especially when offered to me. Rent free and working in the service of others. If I wasn’t moving back home, I wouldn’t hesitate to accept an opportunity like that. Its definitely been on my mind a lot since we talked.

I suppose that’ll do for this week. I sincerely hope you all had a great week, and that the next one is better. Please remember to keep sharing the love and the laughter with the world around you. It could brighten someone’s day, maybe even their life. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have plans with my son. Going to try and make the most out of what time we have, and I may even get to video chat some family back home this evening and see my granddaughter.

Until tomorrow;

“Any intelligent fool can make things bigger, more complex, and more violent. It takes a touch of genius—and a lot of courage to move in the opposite direction.” - E.F. Schumacher

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burntfingers · 7 years

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My Talk With God, and How He’s a Space Nazi

I promise, crossed my heart, that this story actually happened. I also need to remind you that I never promised that ANY of this will make sense. I’m gonna have to do this in bullet points.

My second cousin was dating this guy, Brad. At the time I became aware of Brad, it was nearing Christmas time. So I was invited up to Brad’s house to hang out with him and my cousin, who I hadn’t seen in almost 10 years. I went up to Maryland to the house, and right away, I noticed a problem. The house was so damn out of the way that if you wanted its location you had to do geocoordinates. But I arrived safe and sound. My cousin was not coming until the next day, so I got to talk to Brad a bit. Here’s what I found out:

- He was super fucking racist. I gotta get that one out of the way. He legitimately thought that anyone not white (or “Germanic” as he insisted any white person was) was on a lower tier of the evolutionary scale. Lowest on the scale were black people. He refused to refer to other races by anything other than pejorative terms. This pretty much was the foundation of his entire character.

- He thought he was god. Not like, the monotheistic god-with-a-capital-g, but more that he thought he was descended from Odin. (He insisted it was spelled “Oden”) so he of course insisted that his demigod status have him a higher plane of existence than everyone else on earth, and that it allowed him to pass through time warps and allowed him to see Vikings in visions. He also believed that this made him the best guitarist on earth, but that’s another section of the story.

- He was somewhat obsessed with Vikings, in case you didn’t already get that. He paid a lot of money to have runes tattooed into his arms, but they were so poorly done that they looked like they were done with green sharpie. He also worshipped Odin, but did so in a bizarre way. Whereas most people who make burnt offerings (I’ve gotta go off of various books, I don’t know anyone else who does…besides my dad when he grills) will insist on buying a live animal, slaughtering it, and ritually preparing it. Our friend here would just have his mom buy him a butterball turkey, and he’d go out and burn it on an altar. Also he’d talk about how amazing his religion (Asatru) was, due mostly to the fact that, in his understanding, it encouraged wanton destruction of lesser races, subjugation of women, and a lack of personal responsibility. REAL charmer right there. He also would parade about the house in a cheap Viking costume, and whenever he passed a mirror, he’d flip his shoulder-length hair and scowl into it, as if he were trying to intimidate his reflection. He also had his parents buy him a meter-long sword. Yes it was real. Yes it was sharp. And yes, he thought it was the greatest thing ever. He would often tout it as the “Greatest home defense weapon ever,” to which I’d reply “Yes but wouldn’t you have a problem swinging a meter-long blade inside a house?” His response tied into the next point.

- He wanted to start a kingdom…in Maryland. You heard that right. The end goal of this would-be demigod Viking was to buy up a ton of land in Maryland, declare independence from the United States, set up a little nation devoid of racial minorities and/or socialists, and call it “Ascalon.” He wanted to have a castle, tons of statues, and a guard unit called…the High Guard. Creative. Basically he wanted to go to Europe (Never Africa or Asia, for reasons you already know) and adopt up young male orphans, and train them as his brainwashed soldiers. (Literally his plan was to get them, preferably younger than 6, and raise them on a steady diet of Ayn Rand, swordplay, and hate speech) Also he wanted to institute gladiatorial combat as the primary form of capital punishment. What merits capital punishment in the (Allegedly) Libertarian Monarchy of Ascalon? Murder, rape, theft…and Socialism. That’s right, in this “Free society” simply preaching in favor of socialism could land you in the ring across from Robbie the Rapist, and you’ve got to fight to the death. Of course, I was like “Don’t these ‘utopias’ usually get…shot?” but I guess I’m just a cynic. - Now you’re probably imagining this guy as someone who is a.) 14, b.) playing Call of Duty, and c.) Rather scrawny (or fit, if he were really trying to fit into the stereotype of a Viking) Our friend was none of those. He was 20, spent all of his time playing Viking death metal on guitar, and had, by his own admission, never worked out a day in his life. He was 5'7" and 250lbs, and had rarely left his parents’ house, due to a crippling fear of people. He had long, wispy hair, which he fancied made him more Viking-like, and he admitted that he wore the same shorts for weeks at a time, but that was only when he wasn’t trooping around in the dime-store Viking costume.

- He played guitar, and idolized Viking death metal. Now that’s no crime in and of itself, but having your millionaire parents buy you $200,000 in guitars, amps, and cables and only playing one of those guitars IS a crime of some sort. And if it’s not, it should be. This kid’s first guitar was a $2,000 Eric Clapton Stratocaster, and he made his parents go through thousands of dollars until he settled on a guitar he liked. He even had a Gibson Les Paul…signed by Les Paul (Who is dead, btw) which alone is worth a fortune. This feeds into his plan for world domination, trust me.

- So his kingdom? How did he plan on funding that huge land grab? Obviously that was one thing his parents WOULDN’T pay for. So he had a plan that involved taking over the music industry, the video game industry, and eventually, the world. Basically he wanted to start by creating a game that he described as a cross between “Minecraft and Morrowind” that would be infinite and self-aware. All geekiness aside, such a thing is impossible on modern hardware. He wanted to make the game with 5 people, and he said it would make millions of dollars in a few years. Then he’d use that money to build studios in every major city in the Caucasian-dominated world (Sorry, he hated that term, he’d prefer “Germanic”) and make Viking Death Metal the dominant genre of music in the world. This is because he was pissed that “Black people music” had become the dominant style in the world, i.e. hip hop, pop, and dance music.(He SURE didn’t say “black people” but I’m not gonna repeat what he said) That being said, he viewed metal as the whitest genre of music ever to be recorded, completely ignoring the fact that metal came from rock, which came from blues, which came from the soul and gospel music of…you guessed it, black people. So he was screwed either way. But that didn’t stop his racist megalomania one bit, because he planned on using the money garnered from his game and record company to buy up his kingdom in Maryland, and build a castle. And THAT is where he was gonna use his sword for home defense. So finally, we get to my visit with him. I visited and stayed for five days, much like a National Geographic journalist studying a maniacal dictator, and my cousin came. She showed up, smiling, happy to see us both, and with two GIANT boxes of cookies in hand. She was instantly berated by him for letting the cookies go stale. Then they went upstairs, and I didn’t see them for the rest of the day. Apparently that was because he was busy sulking that bread products, when exposed to air, tend to get a bit stale. So then, the next morning, I decided to be a good guest, and offer to help my cousin make breakfast (Brad wouldn’t be down until 12, she said) so we made some devilled eggs. He came down, pulled a face, and I didn’t see him until late that night, considering that he was sulking some more, this time because he didn’t like the smell of eggs. Then he finally came down at 10pm, and got in a fight with his mother, because she caught him mocking his father’s mannerisms. (His father had recently suffered a stroke) The next day, his friend Rich showed up. Rich secretly disliked Brad, and we both knew it. That night however, I decided to sleep in the attic, because there were real beds there. I did so, and regretted it immensely. Brad and my cousin were having VERY loud sex below me, and I spent the rest of the night covering my ears and getting very little sleep.

The next day, I woke up closer to lunch time. My cousin had prepared burgers, freshly ground and grilled, and Brad complained and told her that she sucked at cooking and shouldn’t do it anymore. His mother called him out on it, and he responded that “Encouraging the weak is a socialist value.” and continued to pontificate that it was “Crucial to the survival of our race” (He basically called everything that he liked “Crucial to the survival of our race” Be it a political cause or a videogame) he then continued that he idolized Anders Breivik, the guy who shot up and bombed a youth camp in Norway, because “The people in the camp were socialist Labour party members who were poisoning the youth.”

After I realized that I had had enough of this guy, I decided to pack my bags, and go home. After the visit, I cut off communication with him, and deleted him off Facebook and all other social media. Videos and photos of him still exist, somewhere, trying his best to look tough. So where is he now? After being dumped by my cousin, the last I saw of him was that he was advertising himself as “Lead Philosopher at Ascalon” and posting pictures of the night sky with emo quotes about how nobody loves and/or understands him.

Some god.

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