#she also gives Fergus a shot in the release but she has him do the normal route which is defeat her in battle which he knows is a deathwish

[nasuverse-most-breedable-tourney]

Genuine question, why do people think Scathath is so good at sex? Like yes she's a hot anime woman but is there any part of her character that I've missed that indicate any interest in sex?

#like many of the celts in actual lore. They love to fuck. Like at every opportunity or minor inconvenience. Scathach is among those people #Scathach in canon fucks her warriors she finds worthy (she actually didn't fuck cu in the tain though she considered it) #in the Scathach pre-release story in fgo. She offers guda an exclusive pass into her bedchamber if they're curious. An insane offer honestl #she also gives Fergus a shot in the release but she has him do the normal route which is defeat her in battle which he knows is a deathwish #fergus even contemplates that competing against Scathach with the reward of getting to fuck maybe worth dying for #know that Scathach in fgo generally contradicts her true desires all the time as a mask to appear more professional and teacher-like #she doesn't actually want to die. she wants to know what it's like to live again. as a mortal. to yearn for life #early fgo she showed a lot of disinterest as protocol but in truth she's actually super down to fuck as much as the other celts. #summer shishou will say she has no more interest in love at her age but literally moments after she'll be like what if we fucked as a bit 👀 #nasuverse head game tourney #propaganda ask #ask

[slipper007]

I can't imagine the pain.

Word Count: 3,262

TW: child loss, grief and grieving, discussion of death. See AO3 for complete tags.

Special thanks to @angelfishofthelord and @shirtlesscastiel who both asked for a part 2, as well as @featherasscas , who's reblogged part 1 more times than I can count

Companion to this, + also on AO3. [Masterpost]

Castiel stayed on the ground, broken, for what felt like hours, lacking the strength to look away from the devastation of his grief.

He stayed there so long that the Winchesters gave up hope. They mumbled something about Chuck and the end of all things, of the ghosts that Cas’ total grief had obliterated and how they might not have been all that was released. Castiel didn’t care. He didn’t have it in him to, and maybe the Winchesters saw that. Dean tried to touch his shoulder, maybe even offer an apology, but Castiel shot him a look that ended the conversation they had been dancing around for years. They left him in that graveyard with what was left of his son.

He almost prayed, but what could an angel do to reverse God’s will? No, he needed to do something else. He was desperate enough to try anything he thought would work.

Bargaining. Maybe he could strike up another deal. Whatever the price was, he would pay it happily. He would give his life in a heartbeat, just like before, if it would bring Jack back.

He reached out to Death directly.

He felt Billie’s presence before he saw them and slowly turned as they offered a laid back “Hey.”

“Bring him back.”

“Can’t.”

“Can’t or won’t?”

“Both,” Billie replied. They raised a brow as Castiel drew his blade. “Killing me again? That seems a little redundant.”

“If you won’t bring him back then maybe your replacement will.”

“Everything has its time, Castiel and everything dies.”

“And it wasn’t his time! His story isn’t done!”

“God said otherwise.”

“You’re going to let God do your job? Kill Jack and wreck the order?”

“God isn’t wrecking anything. Every story has different endings. This was one.”

“Then change it.”

“It’s already happened. It can’t be undone.” Billie’s voice was gentler than Castiel expected when they continued. “It’s not fair, or kind, or right, but it’s life. You need to make your peace with that.”

“No.” Billie’s brows drew together and if Castiel didn’t know better, he would think that it was from pity. Even as he spoke, he felt the tip of his angel blade drop. “I can’t accept this, he can’t be...”

“He is. And nothing you do will change that, regardless of what your time with the Winchesters has taught you.”

Castiel felt the lurching ill sensation rise up again.

“What if I go to the Empty directly?”

“Then you die. It keeps both you and Jack. But you know how the Empty works.”

“I still won’t get to see him...say anything...”

Billie touched his shoulder, a rare gesture of remorse from Death incarcerate. “He’s gone, Castiel, but he can live on in you.”

Castiel didn’t answer, and Death left him to grieve.

Even as time ticked by, Castiel was at a loss for what to do. In the dust, he drew the Enochian sigil to create a portal to Heaven, paid it enough attention that for a moment he could pretend Jack was sitting in the truck playing on his phone.

Castiel almost called his brothers and sisters down to open the portal, to take both Jack and him from the Earth, to let them rest for the first time in years. He wanted Jack to know the peace that used to exist in Heaven, the safety of the place he had once called home. More than that, he wanted to be at peace, to quell the anguish and anger writhing in his chest. It would be easier to go back to proper angelhood, forget what it was to feel.

Emotions had never brought him anything but trouble. They’d lost him his family, his home, his friends, his life…

Still, his tongue wouldn’t speak the words to bring his siblings down. He remembered how they’d treated Jack, and him. The angels had manipulated Jack just as the Winchesters had, and they would do so again if given the chance.

Even dead, Jack could still be used as a weapon. His body harbored the remains of not only nephil grace, but also that of the archangel Michael. Those were both cosmic; they would endure longer than his body.

As much as it sickened him, Castiel realized a hard truth.

Not only was Jack unable to come back, but it wasn’t enough to simply lay him to rest. His body needed to be destroyed so completely that he could never be manipulated again.

He only knew one person he could even start to trust with something like that.

“Hello, tweetie pie,” Rowena answered. “Is this a social call?”

“No, I need your help.”

“Now as much as I’d like to, I’m busy. Tell the Winchesters—”

“This isn’t for them,” he said, words coming out harsher than intended. He took a breath and added a gentler, “Please, this is important.”

“More important than—”

“Yes. Can you meet me at...” Castiel faltered. The Bunker wasn’t an option, and he certainly wasn’t going to stay where he was, surrounded by death, destruction, and his son’s wings scorched into the earth. “Uh…”

“I’ll need some time to tie things up in Nevada. Could you perhaps meet me halfway?

“Yes.” Castiel breathed a sigh of relief. “In Colorado? Grand Junction?”

“Alright,” Rowena agreed. “Now tell me what it is you need so I can prepare.”

“I need you to help me burn a body.” He risked a glance to Jack, feeling bile rise up. “So completely that he can’t come back.”

“Dearie—”

“I can’t talk more; I’ll see you tomorrow,” Castiel blurted, hanging up before what little control he had over his emotions could slip.

The drive was even harder than watching him die.

He talked and played music, anything to avoid the screaming silence, the way Jack was growing cold and stiff beside him. It didn’t work. His mind still repeated the horrified knowledge of “this was your child,” a broken record he feared would never stop.

Neither of them would recover from this.

He arrived after Rowena and nearly cried as she offered him a smile in her prim and proper way and asked if Jack would be joining them or staying in the car.

He didn’t know what gave it away. The unnatural stillness and silence of the car, one that he’d grappled with for hundreds of miles, perhaps. Maybe it was a witch’s intuition, since she’d seen enough over the last several hundred years. Maybe it was because he couldn’t answer her, or even look her in the eyes.

“Oh,” was all she said before embracing him. He couldn’t return it. He couldn’t tear his mind from the hug he had given Jack in the graveyard, how he hadn’t hugged back, how he’d kneeled rather than fight, and how he’d died even when Dean couldn’t go through with it. How it felt to hold Jack, limp and soundless in his arms.

The dam broke, and all that pain and grief and anger nearly brought him to his knees.

Rowena saw it: how broken he was, how broken he’d always been. He didn’t know who he was anymore if he wasn’t a father or an angel, yet he was neither anymore. What was he supposed to do now?

Maybe she understood that. She had suffered the loss of a loved one, too. She knew what it was to watch the world die around her, to lose herself for a time.

When Castiel was able to collect himself, pull the broken shards of his being back together, Rowena asked something that almost tore him apart again.

“Dearie, are you sure you want to…”

“I can’t bring him back. I talked to Death, and I can’t bring him back,” Castiel said softly. “I can’t have someone take advantage of what’s… left.”

“But something so permanent…”

“I would do it myself,” he offered, “but I seem to have fallen.”

Rowena gave him a strange look, the likes of which he hadn’t received in years, so he explained.

“I felt it. Something in me breaking. The emotion growing stronger. I don’t know how to describe it… It felt like when the angels fell. The same kind of desperation.”

“My dear, you’re still an angel. You still have your powers.” She looked him up and down. “Maybe you’re not as powerful as you once were, and you’re a smidge weaker than last we saw each other, but you’re far from powerless.”

Castiel looked away, lost.

“Maybe you can’t do it because you don’t want to,” she offered gently.

“What I want is for him to come back. But he needs to be….” He couldn’t bring himself to say it.

Rowena nodded, understanding.

They found somewhere private, somewhere quiet outside the city. The trees stood tall and proud and vibrantly alive. A felled one became the pyre.

Castiel placed Jack on it, still wrapped in the trenchcoat.

The flames that swallowed him were brilliantly red, orange, and gold like the ochre rocks on the horizon.

It took hours, even with the help of magic. Castiel stood by Jack’s side for all of it, even long after the embers had cooled and all that was left was a small pile of ash and smudges of soot. Rowena collected it up in a jar as the sun rose, and Castiel took it in his hands.

It never should have ended like this.

The day carried on as if Castiel’s world hadn’t ended hours ago. He was grateful to Rowena for what she had done, but even sitting in her kitchen he was too lost in grief to thank her.

Standing by a whistling teapot, she finally asked, “Would you like to talk about the wee boy?”

“It hurts too much.” Castiel bit into his lip, hard. What did it say about him, that he could hardly even say Jack’s name? Shame bubbled up, hatred of himself swift to follow.

“It hurts because of how much you loved him.”

“I still love him.”

“Yes.”

The pair fell silent for a long while and Rowena set a cup of hot tea in front of Cas before settling into her own seat.

“Rowena…”

“Yes, tweetie pie?”

“When did losing Oscar stop hurting?”

Rowena bowed her head, and Castiel knew the answer.

“It didn’t,” she finally said. “Just as losing Fergus hasn’t stopped hurting.”

Castiel’s instinct was right. This was something he would never recover from, would he?

“It’s a different kind of hurt, with time,” Rowena offered. “It stops being so keen. You survive and you try to carry on without them, because that’s what they would have wanted.” She stared deep into her tea. “You learn to talk about them, and to them, even though they’re gone.”

Castiel nodded and held his tea closer. He couldn’t see that happening, not with how much it hurt, but she was right: he would survive. With Jack gone, his deal would never come due. Happiness wouldn’t kill him because he would never feel it again.

Rowena offered him a place to stay for a few weeks, but Castiel declined. He couldn’t stay there, not where the earth was scorched and the air still smelled faintly of smoke. Instead, Castiel drove for hours, not paying much attention to where he was going until he found himself parked outside of the Bunker.

It wasn’t where he wanted to be, not by a longshot, but he had something he needed to do. The door creaked as loudly as it always had, and Castiel was halfway across the library before a voice called out to him.

“Cas.”

Dean.

“I’m here for his things. Then I’ll be on my way.”

“Cas, hey. Stop for a moment, would you?”

Castiel did.

“Look, alright.” Dean walked over until they could look each other in the eye. “I’m not proud of how everything went down. And I’ve given what you said some thought. You’re right. It is our fault, but it’s Chuck’s, too, man. You gotta see that.”

“What I see is that you’re finding any excuse you can to get the blame off yourself.”

Dean’s eyes darkened.

“Chuck has been toying with us—”

“No, you made the decision to kill him, just as I made the decision not to. You told me to get onboard or walk away, and I left you and Chuck both of my own choice. Because you taught me that people and families and love are worth fighting for, and I was going to fight for him!” Castiel tried to keep the waver out of his voice as tears brimmed in his eyes. “Chuck couldn’t have changed that even if he’d tried.”

“Maybe he didn’t want to, huh? You think of that? Maybe he wants us divided.”

“You should have thought about that before you tried to execute him in front of me.”

“Cas—”

“You had a choice and you made the wrong one.”

Castiel left him there in the library and locked himself in Jack’s room. Almost instantly, it proved to be too much, and he slumped down against the door, sobbing.

The room was holding its breath, waiting for Jack to come home. A half-read book sat on the desk, a few stray papers underneath. A pile of clothes waited patiently to be returned to a drawer. The nightstand was bare save for a pencil. One good deed….

Castiel packed it all away. He hated himself for destroying the illusion, for leaving the room as empty as his chest felt, but what he was waiting for would never happen. Jack would never walk through that door again. The decoder ring in the drawer would never be used. Everything had fallen into ruin.

He managed to get the first box into his truck with no issues, no run-ins or confrontations. The second box was smaller, and he rested it on a hip as he closed the bedroom door for the last time.

This time, he wasn’t so lucky. Dean watched him cross the room and quietly said, “You’re not the only one grieving him.”

“It’s not the same, Dean. You never felt his soul. You never took the time to know him: you spent your time trying to make up for wanting him dead. Well, you got what you wanted.”

Dean flinched at that, but Castiel didn’t care. His son was nothing but ash and a box and a half of belongings. Anger flared again.

“You think angels can’t feel.” He laughed bitterly. “Even though I’ve proven that wrong. Did you think killing him wouldn’t kill me, too? As if I haven’t given more for him than you could possibly imagine. As much as you’ve given for Sam. My life. My happiness… I signed away my future in a heartbeat so that he could come back and I would do it again. I tried to do it again.”

If only it would have worked.

“Wait, what?”

“I made a deal to save him. When I’m happy, the Empty will take me forever.”

Dean gaped at him in horror.

“Cas, what’ve you done?”

“What I had to. What any father would do. Don’t give me that look. You’ve done worse for Sam.”

“And it’s always come back to bite me in the ass.”

“Well, I haven’t been happy in years, so don’t worry about the deal.”

“You shouldn’t have made it in the first place.”

“Oh, so now only you get to make deals to save the people you love? Only you get to cheat death time and time again while the rest of us suffer?” Castiel looked at him incredulously, anger seeping through him. “Do you know how many brothers I’ve lost? Sisters? Friends? Now Jack. Why can’t I save them? Why should they stay dead when you and your brother have been raised so many times?”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it. We would have figured it out without making the deal!”

“We didn’t have the time! If I hadn’t made the deal I would have lost him forever, right then and there. I couldn’t stand by and watch him die!”

It would have killed him. And it had.

“We would have figured it out,” Dean maintained. “Like we always do!”

Castiel shook his head. “Then you figure it out. If you bring him back, I’ll be back, but until then…” Castiel looked around the wide expanse of the Bunker with a strange longing. This had never been home, but it could have been, just as his friendship with the Winchesters could have been more. He was leaving behind an almost.

“Jack’s dead. Chuck’s gone. You and Sam have each other. I think it’s time for me to move on.”

“Cas, wait.”

As angry and tired as he was—as they both were—Castiel wanted to. A decade of comradeship, of camaraderie and pining, did that, made him reluctant to leave. Then he remembered standing between Dean and Jack, realizing that if that gun went off, he’d lose them both. He knew now that he’d lost them both long before that.

“Goodbye, Dean.”

It was years before they saw each other again.

It took longer than Castiel could ever admit to find peace.

He still ached for Jack to come back, felt the pain in every drawn breath, but Rowena was right. Billie was right. The anger lessened and the pain dulled. He missed his son but Jack would have wanted him to try to move on. He would have wanted Cas to be happy, despite the deal still hanging over his head even if Castiel couldn’t see it ever coming to fruition now. He owed it to Jack to try to be happy.

And he would. He had to. No matter how much it hurt, even if he still wanted nothing more than to bring him back or follow him in death. Jack survived through him, in his memories and his love. He couldn’t let what was left of his son go like that.

He’d moved to Washington, made a home of where Jack had been born and Kelly had died. Where he had burned. It was a little too empty, full of broken promises and loss and regret, as if it, too, struggled to let go. One day it would. Another family would come and clean it out, fill this home with love as it always should have been. Children would run out to the sand, oblivious of the ash mixed in, while their parents painted over Kelly’s mural and took down the pale yellow curtains that had reminded Cas of honey.

One day, all memory of Jack and the world his parents had tried to give him would be gone. But it wouldn’t be today.

Castiel made his way outside, stood where the rift had first appeared. If he looked closely, he could still see the imprint of wings in the earth. This was where he and Kelly had both burned.

Cautiously, Castiel looked to the sky, the twinkling lights of stars against an unpolluted sky. Jack loved space. He would have loved it here, able to see the stars every night without fail.

It was time to let go.

Gently, Castiel let the ash catch in the breeze, wander everywhere it liked and more until it was gone. Jack was gone.

Castiel swallowed hard and tilted his head back up to the sky, to the light of a thousand stars. If he looked hard enough, he could see the golden twinkle of Jack’s grace reflecting back, his eyes glowing against a sea of blue.

“Hello, Jack.”​ 

#cw death #tw child loss #supernatural #castiel #dean winchester #jack kline #dadstiel #spn fic #castiel fic #spncreatorsdaily #creativecaviar #tuserari #userdee #userstarry #usershey #userpris #rambleoncas #useralison #slipper007writes #rowena macleod #billie spn #nonbinary!billie #angst

[akampana]

Prompt n.24 sounds very interesting. Arturia is a king, but also a knight. And the one thing a knight has by their side, is their trusted weapon...

But we know that sometimes, a weapon is not just a weapon. Sometimes its much more...

Right, Cu Alter?

24. “You will never lose me. I will always be right here beside you.”

Cu Alter x Arturia

One-shot, set in a world where Cú Chulainn and King Arthur exist in the same time period. Enjoy! Thanks for the ask!

___

A loud clang resounded within the stone confines of the throne room, and yet it was quiet compared to the storm raging hell outside, and quieter still to the turmoil that wracked King Arthur’s mind.

Tristan’s desertion was followed by those of a number of knights. The first crack in the glass foundation that kept Camelot’s flag flying high. The exposure of Lancelot’s affair, however, was the hammer that finally smashed it to smithereens. Now here she was left amongst the rubble, with an aggrieved Gawain, a conflicted Bedivere and the cold, dead body of poor Agravain, who fell victim to her excommunicated First Knight. Arturia did not know where Merlin was. Kay had left months ago with all his fortune. She needn’t be a genius to know he wasn’t coming back.

What the people demanded was revenge for King Arthur’s cuckolding: the hunt and execution of the treacherous French knight that fled to his homeland, to whom Arturia held no grudge. Her logic demanded she carry out the farce, but what remained of her sealed-up heart did not.

From this derived her conflict, which she wrestled in solitude, here at the glaringly empty Round Table that used to seat her comrades.

Pursue the man she’s forgiven or stay her hand? Give the people what they want or stand by her own beliefs?

Arturia flinched as cool metal brushed against her fingertips, her startled eyes climbing to meet orbs the color of the wine she just spilled.

“King—!” the glare he sent her stilled her tongue at once, his inhuman crimson eyes glowing in the dim candlelight.

“Cú,” she corrected herself, wrapping her cloak tighter around herself. Her thinner night garbs did little to hide the secret of her sex. In the dead of night, she wasn’t expecting any visitors. Especially not at the Round Table, which was devoid of all life at this hour.

“Has your fire gone out for the night?” she said, twisting her father’s silver ring around her thumb as she spoke, “I will arrange for a servant to assist you at once—”

“Forget it,” interrupted the brutal warrior, reclining himself into Lancelot’s former seat as he poured his own goblet. “Can’t sleep in all this racket.”

She knew instinctively he didn’t mean the storm. Regretful green eyes inspected the mess in the corner, wasted wine that was a victim to her ire. Briefly, she wondered how the foreign king could hear her from all the way in the east wing, but it was hardly important. Cú was already a man of few words. He wouldn’t waste any on small talk.

“Yer gonna chase the bastard, aren’t ya? It’s what yer subjects want,” came his raspy declaration, cutting in through the silence just before a crack of lightning illuminated the room. Their eyes clashed in the glaring white light, blood orbs against evergreen.

“I can...I cannot deny them the justice they expect of me,” she answered, grief lacing the small voice that barely carried itself through the thunder.

“So you deny yerself. Just like you’ve done all yer life. Ain’t that right, Arturia?”

It took King Arthur a moment to fully grasp what had come out of his lips. Her breath began to labor as she wracked her brain for an excuse. Panic settled into her bones faster than the snow outside seeped into the grass. Before she could formulate anything, however, she felt Cú’s fingers encircle her wrist.

“Relax. I ain’t telling no one. Weapons don’t talk, remember?” he soothed, as much as an emotionless killing machine could, anyway.

“You are not just a weapon. We have been over this.” Arturia shot back, momentarily forgetting the source of her stress.

As her frantic breaths began to still, she managed a small question. “How long have you known?”

His claws released their grip, lamenting the small indents they left on her skin. “Since ya wasted yer fourteenth seat on a foreign king that once would have torn yer land asunder.”

Cú reached past her arms, lifting the wool cloak from the short king’s chest. Sure enough, he now had his confirmation, a modest chest that was so cleverly hidden behind her armor plates.

“‘Tis of little consequence to me,” he voiced, replacing the garment she pulled so closely around herself. She watched him as he gave her another glass of wine, trying to discern if he spoke the truth.

“I don’t bloody care about what’s between yer legs, the same way you never cared for this fucking tail that trails behind me. All I need to hear are yer orders,” her allied king continued, flicking away a loose strand of hair with the scaly appendage.

“If ya wanna kill Lancelot, Arturia, I’m with ya. Point me in the way of France. But if not, then gimme some other fucking command. I don’t give a shit, as long as it’s what ya want.”

The King of Knights pursed her lip, still unaccustomed to hearing her real name from one who wasn’t supposed to know her secret. Especially when the one who used it was someone she did not expect: the displaced King of Connacht, who was more frequently an envoy serving at her court as an allied Warrior of the Round Table than the ruler of his late queen’s territory. The latter job, Cú had delegated to Fergus, as the “Mad” King had chosen to dedicate his freedom to the one that liberated him.

Arturia shook off his crass manner of speech. After nearly a decade of having him by her side, she’d grown accustomed to his language, even if he was frequently scoffed at by Agravain and Gaheris when the siblings still lived.

The reminder of her knights’ deaths led her gaze back to her table and its empty seats. There were so few that still belonged to the living. Some of them were never to be filled again. Arturia turned to her right, to where Lancelot once sat, meeting ruby eyes instead of onyx ones.

“Then how about this,” she suggested, imprinting the Irish King’s face into her memory the same way she’d done for the rest of her knights. Slowly, she slipped off the silver ring she’d been fiddling with and slid it onto his pinky.

“Return to your homeland with as much gold as you can carry and my eternal gratitude. Take a fourth of the cattle. Reward each of those in your service with one and keep the rest to enrich Connacht.”

Thunder raged on outside the castle walls, but it was the silence of the king before her that unnerved Arturia to a ridiculous extent. For while neither were as talkative as her remaining nephew, the quiet had never been quite so tense.

“The hell?” Cú finally asked, glaring at the Pendragon ring with disgust instead of honor. “You’d have me run? Do ya think me a coward—”

“—I think you are a king that should not die for the flag of a kingdom that is not his,” she cut him off, grasping his hand before he could tear her father’s ring off. “You asked for an order. This is it.”

Cú Chulainn’s claws dug into the collar of her cloak, as he pulled her to his face, a menacing look upon his countenance.

“An order?” he grunted harshly, “Or a feeble attempt at driving me away before I can leave you?”

Arturia’s struggles suddenly ceased, her limbs going limp before the foreign king finally let go of her clothes. The chairs screeched as each ruler fell back onto them, the older one far more irate than the younger.

“That’s what this is about, isn’t it?” Cú murmured, his voice soft as his fist thudded onto the circular table. “Ya’ve been an absolute tool since that depressing redhead turned in his rank, and some thoughtless fools followed. Then ya let Lancelot leave, don’t even bloody try to tell me he got away.”

Arturia turned her head, hiding her eyes behind her hay-colored hair. It mattered not how her charisma could sway crowds, her tongue knew not how to lie. Green eyes searched the empty room, counting the few chairs that would be occupied tomorrow. Her sister’s remaining sons’, Bedivere’s and...oh, how very few.

Arturia rested her hand on his fist, urging him to keep the heirloom as proof of the great service he gave Camelot.

“Go home, Cú. I cannot...I cannot lose you, too.” the British king sighed, getting used to the chill of solitude. She’d always known that a life as king was a life alone. At least with Cú, she could choose the day he left, instead of spending her time counting the days till he made his exit, just like her knights, her wizard, her brother.

“Don’t ask something so fucking stupid then go looking so damn pitiful,” he responded, flipping their hands and dragging her into his space till her lips touched his.

There was a reason Cú had stayed, pawning off Connacht to someone else that deserved it more and joining Camelot’s court instead. Not only had Arturia broken the geis that kept him tied to Medb, but she also gave him purpose.

Cú never spoke of it, but he remembered their first meeting like it was yesterday.

It was on the battlefield, back when he was still bound by geis to serve another mistress. Medb, the sly vixen, had tricked him into her service, forcing him into the frontlines till he’d slain every single one of his former comrades.

Bathed in the blood of his friends, the red clouding his vision, the man who was once Ulster’s proudest warrior was no more. His valiant face was replaced by a monstrous visage, his armaments were stained black. Upon his head sat a crown of thorns, forced onto his head by a queen who knew nothing but chaos.

Before long, the name he was proud to take up had been given new meaning. He was no longer Ulster’s guard dog, but Medb’s rabid hound, who sunk his teeth into anything and everything that so much as irked the devilish queen. Cú Alter, she called him, now that she’d bent him to her tastes. Cú Alter, a fitting name to a warrior forced to tarnish his own title.

As the bodies piled up around him, no rhyme nor reason for their slaughter, Cú began to see himself in a darker light, grasping at straws for some sort of purpose behind all the mindless killing.

He must have been a monster. A monster that massacred all that stood in his way regardless of honor and glory. Yes, that must have been it, he convinced himself, finally submitting to the dark cage that his hated loathsome queen had put him under.

As the black chains dragged him deeper and deeper into his own personal hell, he took up his spear once again. It lashed out whenever he touched it, staining itself dark till the vibrant red he used to wield was nowhere to be found. Once more, to the battlefield, said Medb. Once more, he tore across it with a godlike ease.

Then suddenly the cursed spear collided with its match, a sword of shining light that glowed as bright as its wielder. He remembered the moment so clearly, his breath hitching at his throat as his strikes were pushed back, the wind pressure whipping his hood out of his face. His heart pounded with adrenaline as his gaze fell down to his opponent: a tiny little thing, so small they should have fallen to his last strike, but there they still stood, defiant green eyes staring up at him with no fear.

Rage overtook his figure, fueling his strikes as he tried to cast the small warrior back, but all his efforts were met with equal force.

“My name is Arthur Pendragon, King of Camelot.” a small voice, too fragile to have been a man’s, rung out across the battlefield. Spear met sword once again, pausing in their dance.

“Your name, knight.”

Even though he stayed on his feet, it was like the king had pulled the rug from under him. Their eyes locked once more, and he saw himself within the green irises, staring mouth agape at his opponent.

His name? His name? How long had it been since he’d been asked for his name? How many foes had he slain since then? How many nameless faces had he sent to the grave? How could this person, this puny king, take one look at his monstrous form and face him like a knight regardless?

“Cú Chulainn,” came his raspy voice, which too often had been used to roar like a beast. It felt foreign on his lips, which had ‘til then spoke nothing but bitter resentment.

That day, Arturia saw more than the monster. More than the weapon he’d disillusioned himself into being. Cú followed the king after Medb’s defeat, intending to find some proof that it was all a fluke, but it never happened. Arturia never treated him or her knights like a weapon or a tool. Arturia treated him like an equal.

And now, years spent the line, she was robbing him of that feeling, sending him away with glory and riches. If he were younger, he’d have jumped at the prize of heroic fame, but that was no longer what he wanted. What he wanted was to be right here, right next to the person that made him feel human again.

As their lips parted, Cú sent a glare through the empty seats of each of the deserters. He’d never understand how they could leave their king behind. He’d met his fair share of monarchs— hell, he technically was one—and even as belligerent a person he was, he wouldn’t wield his spear for any other.

“You will never lose me,” Cú declared in between rough kisses. “I will always be right here beside you. Understand?”

The Irishman returned her ring as she nodded, breathless, into his shoulder. She had one. Even if the world were to turn on Arturia, she still had one. One that would stay forever beside her.

Beside her...

Beyond Cú, the shorter king saw the backrest of Lancelot’s former seat, and finally, she knew just what to do to settle the people and follow her heart at the same time.

“Disregard my previous orders. Heed this instead…”

As the words left his king’s lips, Cú Chulainn proudly grinned.

#and then the two of them make sure the battle of camlann never happens #the end #hahahaahh #akampana asks #love confession prompts #tysm for the ask! #cuturia #cu alter x arturia #cutoria #cu alter #arturia pendragon #artoria pendragon #arturia #artoria #saber #berserker #fgo #fate

[crystalelemental]

I have 20 minutes before I have to feed the cat and get started on these courses that finally allowed me access, so let’s take a moment to talk about my good friend Thracia 776.

I made it through Chapter 5, and got both sidequest chapters along the way.  So that’s fun.  I decided to play on Paragon mode, because I don’t give a shit about challenge, I’m here to try and enjoy the experience for a game whose story I actually really like.

Currently, Leif is doing pretty well, mostly seems to do great with strength and speed, but his skill is bad and I don’t think he’s gained any build so that’s fun.  I think Macha’s been the most unprecedented hero so far.  She’s had two 6 point levels.  That’s really good.  Brighton’s had mostly 1 point levels so he’s not doing so hot.  Asbel seems super magic screwed, he still only has like 4 magic at level 7.  Not looking forward to that long-term.  Tanya actually got some fantastic levels too, including a lot of extra strength, so I’ll be doing my damnedest to get her back.

Chapters 1-3 remain pretty enjoyable.  Moreso now that I understand capturing as a mechanic and how to do that effectively.  A big issue before was not knowing how to set up a good capture, but now that I’m in the swing of it...I kinda like this feature?  Like it’s kinda cool.  Only kinda, though.  And the “only kinda” part kicks in as soon as you hit Chapter 4, where everything starts breaking down, but I’ll get to that.

I’m currently playing with the Lil Munster patch, which also allows me to see the hidden skills for units.  Such as Miracle+ on Eyvel, which just literally prevents her from ever dying.  I did not know that was a thing, and let me tell you, everything going on with Chapter 5′s pitfighters is suddenly a lot less bullshit.  Yes, you can argue all you want that it increases the tension when you don’t know it’s there, but also fuck that.

Chapter 4 is really where I think I’m going to start complaining.  Which is funny because on a second playthrough?  This is actually a pretty fun chapter.  You know, mostly.  Facilitating the escape of the civilians was pretty simple and fun, and it honestly helped out Karin the most, since she wasn’t particularly threatened by a guard holding a captive.  I was also pleasantly surprised at how engaging that map managed to be in terms of just...gathering Vulneraries.  Like, looking at it, I expected a disaster, but judicious use of the thieves and maybe a capture here and there actually nets you enough to equip everyone with a full vulnerary.

Until the trouble.  Let me be frank: I am always one for soft resetting when a character dies, and I’m trying to break myself of that particular habit a bit.  It’s not that I want to not care about characters, so much as recognizing that some characters I don’t give a shit about so why reset everyone else for them?  I play a quick run of Shadow Dragon before this, and just let people die, and honestly it was a lot more engaging when you’re not resetting for stupid things.  But there was one unit who causes two of the three resets, because I couldn’t afford to lose him.  Julian.  I couldn’t just lose the thief and that utility.  Resets occur not because of character love, but because you cannot give up the utility presented.

I feel like that’s part of early Thracia’s problem.  Chapters 1-3, it’s pretty easy to keep everyone alive, especially with Eyvel being actually invincible, and having three super units in Eyvel, Dagdar, and Finn.  If you got the Vouge and the Brave Axe, Osian and Halvan are actually ridiculous too.  But once you hit Chapter 4, things feel like they change to a level that’s a bit absurd?  If you didn’t successfully set up recruitment of Dalsin, I kinda feel like Chapter 4 and 4x are just impossible.  The only way to damage these armor knights are Leif’s Light Brand at range, and Dalsin’s axe.  Pretty much everyone else is dealing about 2 damage, and hoping for a crit, with none of them having the B-rank swords to make use of Armorslayer.  So the chokepoint strategy to the north feels decisively impossible because of how much damage you take, how little you deal in response, and how hard it is to actually break through and take out the mages when their numbers dwindle.  Not to mention one less unit means you have less defense against the soldier reinforcements, and it’s that much harder to protect your thieves.  Which, actually, speaking of: Thieves plural.  Which requires you actually got Lithis.  You probably did, his condition is super easy to achieve.  But.  My recollection is that the original version of this game didn’t give you little icons to tell you when people could talk to one another.  So unless you just figured out that Leif can talk to Eyvel (but not the other way around, that’s too much), you’d miss the hint about “Just catch him and hold onto him.”  At which point I feel it is fair to say people might release him after taking his stuff.  And then you only have one thief.  Which is.  Not great.  And slows down that prison escape significantly.

Then there’s 4x, where you really need 4 strong frontliners to block off attacks, and if you don’t have Dalsin I honestly feel like you’re just hosed, both in terms of taking too much damage, and having too few units to deal with the mages.  I’m not going to say it’s impossible to deal with, but for a putz like me it feels pretty impossible without the big tank man on deck.

Then there’s the issue of capturing.  Capturing only works if your build is higher than the opponent.  If you have a lower build, you can’t capture anyone.  Which is all well and good when you have four chunky axe bros and a cav on your side.  Then you can capture just about anything, especially with Tanya and Ronan giving you some nice chip damage to set up those easy captures.  But Chapter 4-5, you really don’t have many options.  Brighton is consistently able to capture, but Fergus isn’t.  8 build isn’t bad, but it’s not enough to capture one of the soldiers and take their vulneraries.  So if you didn’t get Dalsin, you have one guy who can consistently capture people.  One.  The thieves can steal, but Lara’s build is so low she basically can’t steal anything heavier than a vulnerary or door key, and she’s got 14HP so good luck leaving her in range of anything.  So like.  That’s fun.

Point being, some of these challenges feel distinctly impossible without save states as a result.  I think the biggest offender was admittedly an optional one: the two Loptyr mages in front of the chests in Chapter 5.  Man, those guys are fucked.  Tremendous damage output, poison, and had an absurdly high crit rate that would one-shot anyone if it hit.  I think Leif was able to deny the crits with Light Brand but I’m honestly not sure.  The fact you had to deal with two of them, or risk Leif having to chip them 3 damage at a time at range, was kind of a problem.  That’s the kind of thing where I don’t really know how you’re supposed to manage that, and save states feel incredibly necessary if you’re going to stand a chance.  Granted, this is optional, you can escape and just leave those chests.  But this isn’t the only situation I can think of where the game just plays stupid, and usually the stupid is with mages, because magic is resistance and no one has any.  Except Karin, who is delightfully too weak to actually KO a mage in response.  So that helps.  Situations across Chapters 4-5 have been difficult, because of the presence of magical hits that can 2-shot people if they connect, and a lot of situations feel like you’re desperately hoping for a particular attack to connect so you don’t start losing people left and right.  And then the attack misses anyway because 100% accuracy doesn’t exist, and whoops now you’re gone.

Despite that, I’m still enjoying this more than my first time through.  Maybe it’s familiarity with the game and its mechanics, but I do feel like being able to clear Chapter 4 without screaming is a good indicator that maybe it’s not as bad as I remembered.  We’ll see though, there’s much worse to come.

#personal shenanigans #thracia 776

[lo-55]

Shattered Chains of Fate Ch. 5

Heart Breaker

(Spoilers for Fate/Apocry[ha Inheritors of Glory.

Also Achilles is Gay and you can’t change my mind)

Mash was turning out to be a real heartbreaker.

Right outside of Alcatraz and they’ve been accosted by Fergus and Diarmud, who is a Lancer her and not a Saber like Ichigo was used to. Not only were they now fighting two servants, but Fergus had the gall to propose to Mash.

Which is how Ichigo ends up breaking all rules of a holy grail war and he, the master, stomps over to their opponents and punches Fionn on the head as hard as he can. He would have done more damage to the brick walls but he thinks he gets the point across because -

“She’s a kid! Don’t go proposing to someone like that you goddamn creep! I’ll kick your ass!”

Medusa has to catch him in her chains and forcibly drag him back to the group while he threatens bodily injury to the opposing servant.

“And for that matter stop being a dick to Diarmud! Asshole!”

“Well now that’s a foul mouth. Are all masters like you?” Fergas rubs his head, looking unruffled and honestly? Ichigo’s pretty sure he just broke his damn hand. Totally worth it.

“There are no other masters,” Ichigo scowls. The ground rumbles as a whole army of celtic warriors crest the hill. They’re caught, between the sea and the army and the servants. And to top it all off, there’s a crack in the sky. Along with the ring of solomon, a jagged smile rips through the sky and crawls with dark teeth. A monster crawls out and Kyo grimaces.

“If you keep releasing your reitsu like that, you’re going to summon a whole army of them here,” he said frankly. Ichigo stares at him.

“Huh?”

“You didn’t even notice, did you?” Kyo looks him over, something thoughtful in his eyes. “I suppose you wouldn’t. You’re only human, isn’t that right?”

“Uh yeah. Just human.”

“Master,” Cu elbows him, “It’s time to fight.”

“Right,” Ichigo turns to the living and clenches his fist in front of his chest, his command seals burning against his skin. “Let’s take them down! Rama, show us what that sword of yours can do!”

“Yes!” Rama helfts his blade and fire erupts, scorching and hot. He grins, a king and a warrior at one and-

Throws it like a frisbee.

Ichigo stares, mouth open, as it rips through the enemy like an overpowered saw blade. That was on fire.

“So that’s his Noble Fantasm, huh?” Ichigo runs his fingers through his hair. He can feel it draining his mana, but he could probably stand for it to be released a few more times before he collapses.

“Okay,” Ichigo focuses on the battle again, his mind whirling. Two lancers, and they have one Saber, one Berserker, on Lancer, one Rider, one Shielder, one Caster and Ichigo himself. Lancers were weak to Sabers, and strong to Archers, which they don’t have.

He can work with this.

“Mash, get ready. Cu, you too,” he keeps his plan quiet, his directions firm and the world focuses down to this point, this battle. Diarmund and Fergus are stronger than them by far but Ichigo will not accept defeat or failure. Together, they can drag victory out of their jaws.  

By the time the fight ends he realizes that Kyo is staring at him intently. Ichigo scowls at him in return.

“What?” he asks irritably.

“I was just wondering… What on earth is happening here?”

“Huh? It’s a holy grail war,” obviously. But the ghost just stares at him, and Ichigo realizes that he’s going to have to explain. About the singularities, about the incineration of humanity. About the end of the world that they’re trying so hard to prevent.

By the time he’s done, Kyo is pale and his mouth is drawn tight.

“That’s- that’s insane! If the living world ends, so will the worlds of the dead!”

“Oh yeah?” Ichigo hums. “That’s fucked up. But, we’re not gonna let that happen. Even if our assination attempt failed, we’ll just have to meet them head on.”

“You say that like it will be easy,” Rama comes to his side and looks vaguely in the ghosts direction. “The truth of the matter is, even with all of us, our chances at winning are still going to be slim.”

“So?” Ichigo crosses his arms over his chest. “This isn’t our first rodeo. We’ll win. We have to.” He says it like it’s simple. And to him, it is.

“If that’s the case,” Kyo eyes Ichigo speculatively. “You might want to suppress your Reitsu. How you still have it when other people are eating it is beyond me… You’re like a fountain, still bubbling up even as everyone drinks from you.”

“Couldn’t you make a less weird analogy?” Ichigo frowns at him. “And how do I do that?”

“What do you mean ‘how’? You take your reitsu and draw it into yourself.”

“... I have no idea how to do that.”

“Well, if you don’t figure it out you’re going to keep attracting those monsters,” he nods towards the fading corpses he’s left after his fight. Ichigo recognizes the dust they leave as a type of magic ingredient. Void dust. How weird…

“Fine then. I guess until I figure out how to do that-” Ichigo grabs the ghost by the wrist and starts dragging him towards the east. They need to find Robin, fast.  

“You’re coming with us.”

*

“Sorry but, uh, who the fuck are you?” Ichigo asked when he finally regained consciousness. “And more importantly why the fuck are you in bed with me?!”

Which is a sentence he never thought he’d have to say. But here they were. Because fuck everything.

Instead of answering him the man, one of Urahara’s associate’s if he remembered, started shouting right next to Ichigo’s ear for ‘Tenchou’. Whoever that was, Ichigo planted his foot into the man’s chest and shoved him viciously off. A twinge of pain shot through his back, but he pushed past it. He was well on the mend, and he’d always healed fast.

He closes his eyes and takes a breath. The coldness of Rukia’s energy inside of him is gone, and he’s only a human once more. A human with high reitsu, but still a human nonetheless. What had happened?

Ichigo looks up when a more familiar face walks into the room. Urahara.

“You shouldn’t move around too much. Your injuries could still kill you.”

Ichigo snorts derisively. “Not at this point. If I was gonna die, I already would have. You were the one who saved me, right? There was someone else there too, another kid about fifteen-”

“He’s fine,” Urahara interupts. “I fixed him on the spot and he left. In fact, he asked me to take care of you.”

“Huh? Uryu did?” Ichigo can’t help the start of a smile. “I knew he liked me. He was just in denial.”

“He also said, ‘the only one who can save Rukia is probably Ichigo’.”

“Ah? That’s a lot of faith,” Ichigo crosses his legs under the sheets, staring down at the wrinkles in them. Uryu didn’t even know everything he could do, everything he had done. No one alive did and he was starting to regret it. To save Rukia though… How was he going to do that? “I’ll have to find a way to Soul Society… And, I couldn’t do it on my own. I wonder…”

He didn’t have enough mana to keep a servant around full time. Normally the holy grail maintained most of them. And during his tenure at Chaldea Chaldea’s system had managed about eighty percent of the upkeep. He definitely didn’t have the mana for a summoning, which took more all at once than just having a servant by his side. Otherwise, he’d have called someone to his side ages ago.

It didn’t help that he didn’t really have any catalysts. Almost everyone he’d ever summoned had been pure luck. And now he had nothing of any of theirs. Waver might have something, but still.

Would he even be able to take his servants into the afterlife? Or would they be drawn back to the throne of heroes?

What about Ereshkigal? Where was she in all this? The age of gods was over, and they had faded from the earth, but was she toiling away in the afterlife? Trying to bring beauty to Kur?

“I should have asked Rukia…”

“If it’s any consolation, I know a way into Soul Society.” .

“Do you?” He wasn’t even remotely surprised. No, this guy seemed like someone who would know a way to traverse dimensions.

Ichigo made a private vow to never let him anywhere near Merlin.

“I do,” Urahara was giving him a strange look from under his mask, but Ichigo was too tired and in too much pain to care. The only thing that mattered was saving Rukia. Once he figured out how to get there, he could set about figuring out how to get his servants too. If Renji and Byakuya were any indication, he should be able to make it with most of his closest allies. Assuming he could summon them.

“Alright. And what do I have to do to get you to tell me? I doubt you’ll do that for free, even if she is a regular of yours.”

“Oh my, do you really have such little faith in me?”

Ichigo just gives him a look, and the airy smile starts to fade.

“Alright. The condition you have to meet is simple. Starting now, for ten days, you have to train with me.”

Ichigo cocks his head. “Do I have that much time? Rukia’s supposed to be executed.”

Urahara breaks down the timeline for him. A month, he has one month to get strong enough to beat Byakuya without Rukia’s powers to help him. Ten days to train, seven days to get there, and thirteen days to save her. There’s something else going on, Urahara has no need to help him this much, but he’s learned not to look a gift horse in the mouth.

There’s definitely something going on here that he doesn’t understand. And Urahara is using him for something else. But…

‘A scumbag who will do anything to win.’ That was what Roman had called Merlin. And this man, his eyes are just the same. Willing to do anything to win. To win what? He’s missing something big. Had Rukia had something important to him? Was she more than just a customer?

So far, Urahara has done nothing but help him. So Ichigo has no reason to distrust him.

“Alright. How do you plan on training me? With weapons? Or magic?”

“Shinigami call it Kidou,” he says helpfully, but Ichigo knew that already.  “And if you must know, I plan to restore your shinigami powers.”

“That’s not possible. Rukia’s powers are gone from me now. I can’t feel them anymore. It’s not cold like it used to be.”

“Cold? I see. So you could feel her zanpakuto the entire time. That’s quite impressive.”

Ichigo just shrugs. “If you say so. I was only a demi-shinigami, so it’s only natural that I can’t feel her power inside me anymore.”

“A demi-shinigami? I’ve never heard it called that before. Substitute is the proper term.”

“I don’t really give a shit. The point is, I don’t have those powers anymore, so there’s no way to ‘restore’ them.”

“That’s true. Perhaps I should have put it this way. ‘I will make you into a shinigami in your own right’. Without Rukia’s powers. Only your own.”

Ichigo freezes. Because what? How will that even work?

“My own power.” He repeats. He’s never-

The concept is so foreign. Never has he fought only with his own power. It’s always been someone else's. Mash’s, Cu’s, Medusa’s, and the dozen other servants that have fought at his side. Rukia’s power, snow through his veins.

To fight with just his own power… To go toe to toe with Byakuya and Renji using his own strength.

Is it even possible?

“Aren’t Shinigami dead?”

Urahara is strangely quiet.

“Yes. They are.”

“So for me to be a shinigami, you would have to kill me.”

“Yes.”

He’s honest, at least. “Give me a day to consider it.”

A day to talk to Waver, a day to try and summon his friends, a day to decide what he’s going to do. Because Servants run on Mana, life energy, and if he’s dead-

Will he ever see any of them again? Will he ever dream of Merlin again? Will he be able to keep his promise to him, and break him out of his prison at the end of time?

“Of course. Go to school, have some time alive. Then come back tomorrow, and give me your answer.” It sounds like Urahara thinks he already knows the answer. And maybe he does, but Ichigo needs a while.

He leaves an hour later, wrapped up like a mummy.

* *

Ichigo is a time traveler. He is in the middle of time travel right now. So, it shouldn’t be too much of a stretch to say that alternate timelines, along with time travel, are a thing.

That doesn’t mean that he expects to be pulled into one in the middle of an already difficult singularity. He’s still not one hundred percent sure who is one his side, if anyone is besides the three he’s come with, but Nightingale seems to be willing to follow him, and Rama as well. And Liz is here, again, and as much trouble as she can be she’s still pretty reliable in a pinch. And Kyo was at his side now too.

So there’s a few people on his side, and he’s glad for them, but the american’s are a pain in the ass and the celts are trying to end the world, and he’s had a hard enough time falling asleep when an honest to god dragon appears before him (in his dream, he thinks) and whisks him off to a castle and a city and an alternate timeline where apparently Fuyuki never even happened and instead a bunch of giddy millenials (or whatever the fuck their names was) stole a grail and fought a saint and now inside the grail the war is starting again.

Which - what?

How is this even his life?

But the dragon turns into a human, and then there’s a sorta-centaur trying to teach them how to fight and Achilles is so. Very. Gay.

“A chariot isn’t meant for just one,” and a cocky smile and Ichigo is pretty sure he wants to punch him. But he takes his hand instead, stands at the head of the chariot with one arm buffering him on each side and they fly.

They’re lightning in the sky, all divinity and invincibility and power. They mow down the opposing faction like they’re cutting down grass instead of heroes from ages past and Ichigo knows at once that as soon as he can he needs to find a way to summon this hero.

Even if it meant dealing with bad flirting. And his weird aversion to fighting with women. And his stupid, cocky attitude.

Ichigo can work with a lot of things. Plenty of people (mainly Kiyohime) are already trying to get in his pants. What’s one more person? Especially such a powerful rider.

Powerful Rider.

And that puts mental images in his head that he did not need, thanks all the same. He can’t look at Achilles for a full three hours afterwards.

The dragon, Seig, turns out to be a homunculus, created by the Young Millennials or whatever as a sort of battery to power their mage craft. Which is beyond fucked up, and Ichigo privately vows to strangle any of the ones he meets.

On top of that, when he wakes up the next morning there’s a little kid at the edge of his bed, covered in scars, not wearing any proper clothes and calling him ‘mommy’ and Ichigo decides then and there that alternate universes are more trouble than they’re worth. This kid, he's met her before. Jack the Ripper, and she calls him 'mommy', again.

“I’m not even a girl damn it!”

But the kid’s persistent, and cute in a really creepy way, so Ichigo can’t really do anything besides constantly telling her not to call him ‘mommy’. But that works as well as trying to get anyone else to use his given name instead of ‘Master’.

They end up having a picnic in a garden hosted by a berserker and a Saber he’d met in london. There are a lot of people he'd met in London here. The little girl, Jack, the Saber, Mordred, and Fran too of course.

They didn’t recognize him. Why would they? These were memories of servants, and technically they’d never met Ichigo at all being from another timeline. And only existed in the dream he’d been having for like three days.

He was going to make his head hurt if he kept thinking of all this.

They fly to the Hanging Gardens, and take their owner onto their side. Ichigo is starting to get used to the idea of beating someone’s face in and them being his friend afterwards.

Together, they finally reach the center of the chaos. A mad man who had turned himself into a servant before being killed. Darnic Prestone Yggdamellenia. One of the people who had made and tried to kill Sieg. Ichigo has to fight not to strangle him when he offers to fulfill the wishes of all of his friends. Bribing them with what they want most, if they only surrender to him.

It’s Achilles who steps forwards.

“I hate to break it to you, but I’m gonna have to pass. I woudln’t really be a hero if I went along with you now, would I? We’re meant to live life to the fullest. If we stumble along the way, that doesn’t invalidate what happened before the fall, or after. And reproduction or now. Servant or not. As long as I’m still me…”

“I’m not doing anything a real hero wouldn’t do!”

Mordred scoffs at Ichigo’s right. “For once, you carrot looking weirdo, we’re on the same page.”

“Carrot looking weirdo?!”

“I can’t exactly say I got the cleanest hands around here, but there’s still no way I’d side with you! Even I’d feel gross going along with your plan, asshole.”

They each step up, one after the other. Denying their dreams, denying immortality, for the sake of staying true to themselves. What is a dream worth if you lose yourself along the way?

They fight. They fight against the castle, they fight against themselves, they fight against reproductions that will not quit spawning, one copy after the other until even Mordred is nearing exhaustion. But they do not falter, they do not stop.

And in the end, they are saved by a vampire. The Gardens collapse and the dream has to end, but before they leave, they say their goodbyes, their thanks.

Achilles even goes so far as to pull his orange sash off and drape it around Ichigo’s neck like a scarf that matches his hair.

“You know, it’s kind of nice,” he says, his smile half cocked. “Even though this is the end of our time together… When I was alive, I never could relax after a battle because I knew there was always going to be another one on the way right after. But now…”

“I’m satisfied. We won, and there’s no civilians around so we didn’t have to worry about massacres or any other atrocities. That’s nice. Oh, and Hektor’s not around! That’s good.”

Hektor. The one who’d shot him down.

“You must hate him, huh?”

“Not exactly,” Achilles frowns, “But if you ever summon us at the same time, I’ll find a way to get around it. We’ll work it out, we just have to think positive. But,” he shakes his head, “That’s not what I really want to say.”

“Then just spit it out already,” Ichigo orders. Achilles grins at him.

“I’m trying to say, I hope you summon me again. It’s been fun fighting alongside with you! So if you ever find yourself in a tight spot in Greece, just call for me and I’ll come running no matter when or where you are. And that’s a promise!”

Achilles grins at him, and disappears in a cloud of gold glitter.

When Ichigo wakes up, the scarf is still around his neck, and Kyo is staring at him like he’s grown a second head.

* * *

There’s a cat across the street from his house.

Not his house, but the house that is his and not his families. The one that is empty, and not meant to be lived in. It’s… hard, to be around his family. To be around people who don’t understand war and pain and loss and trying, trying, trying, and still losing so much even if you win in the end.

There’s a cat across the street from his house and a plain brown package on the doorstep.

Ichigo pauses, the keys in his hands, and turns to the cat. Pitch black, with gold eyes. It trots across the street towards him, neatly avoiding the only car coming along, and Ichigo kneels down in front of it. He offers his hand, and the creature gives him a dainty sniff.

It doesn’t have mana.

Any mana.

That is… not normal. No mana but reitsu. A soul in a body?

“Oh. Are you a familiar?” he runs his fingers along the crest of the cat’s head, scratching carefully behind the ears. “You’re not Wavers. Or anyone’s local. Are you from the Mage’s Association?”

Ichigo stands and moves to the house, picking up the box on his way in. The lock turns with a click and hums with magic before it let’s the door swing open.

“I hope this isn’t a bomb,” he says idly. “That would be a really sloppy way to assassinate someone, don’t you think?”

How mad must he look, standing on his doorstep and talking to a black cat.

To be fair, the cat seems to nod at him before making his (?) way into the house. A discrete glance and Ichigo changes his assessment. Probably a her cat. A lady cat? Did female cat’s have a particular name? Like a bitch or a cow or mare?

He shuts the door firmly behind him and makes his way into the kitchen, where he sets the package on the table. He puts a kettle on to boil water and pulls out a small carton of milk from the fridge for his impromptu guest.

Ichigo does not have a familiar. He had been lent Fou for a long, long time but he’d never had one of his own. They’re an extension of their master, an extra eye and ear and, Ichigo privately thinks, a way to battle off loneliness.

Mage’s are strange creatures.

Typically, they only have one or two children. An heir and a spare, no more. And even then, only the most promising of the two is taught the family mage craft and given their magic crest. Mage’s are viciously protective of their secrets and their magic, even amongst their peers, and Ichigo has seen the life as lonely.

Ichigo, contrarily, is a pack animal.

He’s no chatterbox. He’s not bubbly or outgoing or honestly all that talkative, but he thrives on other people being nearby. They give him purpose and drive, they strengthen him.

That might be why he’d clung so hard to Rukia Kuchiki.

She had given him power, yes. Power to fight on his own, power to save his family, and for that he would always be grateful. But she was also a warrior, a survivor, and something in her was jagged and fierce. She was a survivor, even if he didn’t know what of.

She was, just a little bit, like him. In a way that no one else he knew was.

Ichigo was alone.

He had his friends. He had his family but they didn’t understand, they couldn't understand.

They wouldn’t understand his sudden need to sit with the door in plain sight and the window’s far from his back. They wouldn’t understand the abrupt change in his priorities list, that put ‘survive’ on top of everything else when it used to be ‘take care of the girls’. They would not understand the sudden feeling of weightlessness that comes from stepping out from under the weight of the world for the first time in years and loss that came with that same victory.

He has no servants. He has no Romani, no Da Vinci. No Mash.

Ichigo is utterly alone.

He is alone, and Rukia had alleviate that in a way that even Chad, his best friend, his partner, couldn’t.

War has alienated Ichigo from the very people he fought in it to protect and doesn’t that just fucking figure?  

Ichigo stands in the kitchen, watching the cat finish her milk.

“I’m going to bed,” he announces. Maybe Merlin will have some ideas.

He completely forgets about the package that is hopefully not a bomb.

* * * *

Ichigo is getting sick of all of their potential allies trying to kill him at first.

It seems like every time they turn around someone wants them to ‘prove their worth’ or test them in battle or something equally annoying. It doesn’t help that this is scathach and the second she showed up Cu started acting like a totally different person.

And by that, he means he’s jumpy like a beaten dog and ramrod straight like a student on the shit list.

And, she can totally see Kyo.

Even if all she does is throw him a wink that had him bristling.

She’s… bewildering. She’s fierce and vicious and Ichigo is very glad she’s not the enemy. She’s one of the only people he’s seen that might be able to go head to head with Cu Alter and win. Instinct tells him that she’s dangerous, that she’s darkness in a way that threatens to draw him in. He can see, in the way they move, in the way they fight, how she might be Cu’s mentor.

The queen of the shadow lands, and doesn’t that have Kyo’s attention?

“That fool,” she looks to the east, “That pitiful fool. I’m sure he’s only this way because of the wicked queen’s wish. He found one thorn unbearable. To be covered in them must be torture. He must he out of his mind, burdened with a thousand.”

“But by paying that price, he has surpassed even me. They say an idiot without hesitation is strong, don’t they?”

A warm hand lands on Ichigo’s shoulder and he looks up, to his Cu, his faithful watchdog, his Caster. “All power has their price, Master. Think about the weight of a sword before you draw it.”

All Ichigo can do is nod. What is he meant to say to that? His heart hurts for the Cu so alike and so different from his owns suffering. He didn’t ask for his position anymore than Ichigo did. But, he will not hesitate when he has to fight him. He needs to win. He needs the grail.

If he doesn’t win, he’ll never see his friends again. He’ll never see his family. His father, his sisters. They’ll all be gone. And he won’t let that happen, no matter what kind of sympathy he might have for the enemy.

“Right. We should get moving soon. Before the enemy catches up with us.”

It still doesn’t sit quit right with him.

“You’re troubled,” Kyo notes, falling into step with him.

“Yeah,” Ichigo can’t deny that. “Each one of these wars gets more and more complicated, and each time the people we face are stronger. I feel like I’m trying to pull apart headphones from my pocket sometimes.”

“...excuse me?”

Ichigo ends up explaining to Kyo, and apparently to everyone else too, how headphones work, what a cell phone is, how they work (and honestly all he knows is there’s satellites and that brings about a whole other conversation) and by the time he’s exhausted his already limited understanding of radiowaves and electric currents they’re in the desert and Scathach wants him to fight a pack of wyverns off with his bare hands.

He (somehow) manages not to die, and he suddenly understands Cu’s attitude towards his teacher.

* * * * *

“Do you know-”

“I’m in a dream, Merlin,” Ichigo interrupts him before he can even get the full sentence out out, and the mage cocks a brow in question. Ichigo sits up and leans on his shoulder. “I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

“My, your life never is dull. Why don’t you tell Merlin all about it?”

“...Are you going to start talking in third person if I do?”

“No. You’ll probably hit me.”

Ichigo manages a wan smile. “You know me so well.”

Ichigo does end up telling him what happened with Rukia. About almost winning but getting his ass kicked and his borrowed power ripped away. And Urahara’s offer to kill him.

“If I die, would I even be able to see you again?”

Merlin cocks his head. “Well. If you’re asking me what happens after you die, may I remind you that I am one of the least qualified individuals to answer that question, being an immortal. If you had more time I would suggest you make a trip to scotland, or even greece. Places where the afterlife have been reached in the past. But, I suppose that’s out of the question.”

“He said I have a month before she’s executed.”

“You’ve done more with less time. ”

“And significantly more backup.”

“True. You could always ask that Quincy boy to give you a crash course in your mother’s powers. Although…”

“What?” Ichigo narrows his eyes at him.

“This man said he can give you Shinigami powers. I doubt that they’re something that can just be taught. Like mage craft, I’ll bet it has to be inherited, or brought on by mutation. Perhaps it’s only a lingering spark from your little friend, but in any case, I don’t see why you’d need to die. You’ve projected your soul out of your body a half dozen times before.”

“This isn’t ray shifting. And even if it was, I don’t have Chaldea or a coffin to help me.”

“No. But I suspect that the answers are somewhere inside of you, instead of merely with this shady shopkeeper.”

“... like you have room to call anyone shady. “

Merlin laughs, a soft breath on the wind.

“No, I certainly don’t. “

He’s still staring at Ichigo.

“What?” It makes his skin crawl when Merlin does that. When he seems to read Ichigo like he’s a book. Easy to flip through and find the information he wants.

“That’s not all that troubles you, is it? I know you’re not afraid of dying, but you’re hesitating. You never do that. “

“It’s just like I said.” Ichigo draws one leg up to his chest. “If I die for real, I don’t know if I’ll ever see you, or any of the others again. I don’t have enough quartz to summon someone to help me, and if I let Urahara do what he wants, it might not matter. I can’t summon my friends if I don’t have any mana. “

“But if you don’t, another friend might die. Quite the dilemma. “

“You could stand to sound a little more torn up about it!”

“Huh? But I don’t even know the girl! Besides, you’re not exactly weeping yourself. “

Ichigos mouth shuts with a click and he looks away, his stomach turning. Merlin isn’t wrong. He’s not crying. He’s not even panicking.

“... Ichigo?”

“It’s. It’s pretty fucked up. But when she showed up I was relieved. For the whole tone between Chaldea and her I felt like I was waiting for the other shoe to drop. For the next disaster. Like I was gonna get a call saying there’s another singularity, or someone else was trying to end the world. Going to school? Eating dinner with my family? I just felt lost. I didn’t know what I was doing. I don’t even remember what I wanted to do when I graduated anymore.”

“But then Rukia came. And I fought hollows but they’re not strong enough to give me a real challenge. And then she was taken and everything is just-“

“Clicking into place. It’s horrible, but it’s been so long, I don’t remember how not to fight anymore. I don’t know how to not be at war. And this… this choice between life and death. This mission to save her. It’s almost comforting. Isn’t that fucked up?”

A warm hand cups his cheek. Long sleeves, heavy with the smell of gardenias, brush across his shoulder.

“Ichigo,” Merlin begins, his voice strangely genuine. “Whatever happens, I know that you’ll figure it out. And that eventually, you’ll find your place. You always have one more crazy idea, one more play, one more chance. Once you get your friend back, you’ll figure out how to be human again. Or, something close to it. In the meantime, you can always find me here. I can’t exactly leave.”

Ichigo is so struck by Merlin, if all people, being candid and complimenting him that he wakes up catching flies. But, he at least has an idea on what to do now.

* * * * * *

#bleach #bleach fanfiction #bleach/fate grand order #Kon bleach #Merlin Fate/Grand Order #urahara kisuke #Ichigo Kurosaki #BAMF!Ichigo Kurosaki #Ichigo Kurosaki is Ritsuka Fujimaru #Urahra Kisuke #Achilles #Achilles Fate

[sablelab]

Covert Operations - Chapter 96

SYNOPSIS: With Fergus’ help James Fraser makes his way through a series of underground tunnels to find Claire’s location and comes to her rescue in a dramatic way.  Whilst hiding, he also hears a conversation that he was not expecting.

This chapter contains some violence.  Previous chapters can be found at … https://sablelab.tumblr.com/covertoperations

 MY THANKS for your continued support and comments on the previous chapter. Knowing that you have been waiting for Jamie to come to Claire’s rescue, I hope that you enjoy this chapter when he finally finds her.

 CHAPTER 96(V) James Fraser jiggled the doorknob a little and found that the door was bolted but not locked. Carefully he loosened the bolt and slowly released it cautious of the fact that he was unaware of what or who may lie beyond when he opened the door. He inched the door open just enough to be able to see but to his surprise he discovered that some kind of bookcase disguised the tunnel's secret entrance and concealed the opening to a secret passageway. Entering the space, he listened then hurriedly ran his hand along the back of the bookcase searching for the mechanism that would open this sesame. Locating a button, he pressed it. Suddenly the secret entrance was revealed as a panel within the bookcase rose wide enough for him to slip through. Peering inside Jamie then made his way further into the room. His eyes immediately looked around searching for any clues that would lead to Claire's whereabouts but there was nothing.

"Fergus can ye give me a reading yet?" "Hold on Jamie ... I'm on to it." Tapping some keys on his computer Fergus locked onto Jamie's position but as he did so his monitor showed an ancillary signal was also being sent from inside the monastery. His eyes lit up with renewed vigour and delight.

"Oh! My! God! ..."

Alarmed he asked, "Fergus! What's happening?" "I'm getting another signal ... Claire has activated her tracker..." "What tracker?" "She had one in her shoe." Relief flooded through Jamie's body ... His Claire was still alive. The shot he had heard earlier had not been for her. "Where is she?" Looking at a schematic of the monastery sectionalized floor by floor, Fergus now had a full access and egress on the interior of the building and the surrounding rooms. He zoomed in on the hot spot which was obviously where Claire was being held. As he watched his monitor, square markings appeared on the screen indicating the amount of people in the room with her. A satisfied look crossed Fergus' face as he quickly reported the Intel back to Jamie as to her position. "Work your way through the room. Outside on the South East corner, you'll find a stairwell that leads to a corridor. Go up there and standby." ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* Quietly opening the door Jamie was about to exit the room when he heard the sound of voices and a sharp warning from Fergus in his comm. unit. "Jamie hold! ... Hostiles approaching." He stepped back into the shadows of the room as the footsteps came nearer. The men stopped just outside the room where he was hiding and he listened to the conversation of their raised voices. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* "That bitch tried to strangle me with her feet." "Let it be Jonathon ... She has been well trained. Obviously, Section One operatives have backbones of steel." "We've tried everything. What do we tell Sun Yee Lok when he calls?" he asked nervously. "Yes ..." Wang pondered, "He will want to know what progress we have made with the woman soon." Randall gave a flippant but frustrated reply. "Well that's easy ... none. She won't crack." Feeling the frustration of his colleague Wang Yu tried to placate him. "That's why we'll need to try a different approach." "What do you suggest?" "I told you there was another way." He looked at Jonathon and philosophically said, "You'll attract more files to honey than you will to vinegar." ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* James Fraser fell deeper into the shadows when he heard the sound of the door handle engage. With his gun poised he waited as the door was slightly opened, but just as the men were about to enter the room, an alarm sounded in the corridor and an announcement blared out.

Alert! ... Alert! ... Intruder Alert! Wang Yu opened his cell phone. "Report!" He listened then turned to Jonathon Randall when the call was finished. “What?" "Karen has just been retrieved from the grounds," he announced amazed but jubilant at this information.   "What? ... She was supposed to be in Hong Kong. How did she get here?" "She was kidnapped." "By whom?" "James Fraser." "Ah ... so he did find us after all," Jonathon replied with unveiled glee in his voice. "Apparently. It seems that he is somewhere within the grounds or building." "Is Karen okay? Sun Yee Lok won't like it if his daughter has been harmed. Where is she?" "In the parlour. She's waiting for us to report." "Let's go then!" Jonathon stated closing the door sharply behind him. The two men turned away from the room and hurried away leaving Jamie to ponder what they had been talking about. As they rushed to where Karen was located, Wang Yu looked at Jonathon Randall.

"Our honey may just have arrived," he stated cryptically. Jonathon nodded in agreement. "You may be right." ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* Jamie's near discovery had been a close shave and their conversation had been enlightening. However, the new explosive Intel about Karen's relationship with Sun Yee Lok would keep for his sole objective now was to retrieve his Claire without delay and egress as quickly as possible. "Jamie ... proceed ... the corridor is clear." Time was of the essence as the triad knew he was on the premises somewhere. Quickly opening the door, he made his way into the empty passageway and headed to the stairwell at the end. Once again, he held his silencer at the ready and climbed up the set of stairs two at a time. He ended in a landing which led to another corridor.

"I'm here." "Okay ... There's a second flight of stairs, to the left. Ascend, then at the end of the hall turn right. You're closing in. The torture room is along there." Following Fergus's instructions to the letter Jamie proceeded to his destination and once there reported back to him, "Where is she?" He knew he was close to his Sassenach now and although he hoped that she would be fine, he knew this may be wishful thinking. Would she have the stamina to make her way to egress? The tape he'd seen was testament to what the triad was capable of and also what they had done to her. Would he be able to get Claire out in one piece the same way he had managed to get into the monastery?

With these thoughts running through his mind, he waited impatiently for Fergus to respond. There was a long silence before he finally heard a reply from him. The intonation in Fergus's voice told Jamie that he was going to hear something he wouldn't like. "Jamie ... there's a lot of electrical energy near her ... and water." James Fraser became rigid. His eyes deepened to a steely dark hue. With his voice quavering somewhat Fergus voiced out loud what he was doing. "I'm trying to get a visual of the room. I'll have to disable their monitoring system first. Give me a minute." "Let me know when ye do." Furiously Fergus tapped away at his computer and keyed into the mainframe that had worked successfully in the security cameras and sensors. He created a layered matrix and soon had a visual inside the torture room.

"Got it. The triad have been trying to make Claire talk judging by the equipment in the room Jamie." Fergus' voice suddenly went quiet. "She is strung up to a rafter. She's alive but it looks like she's beaten up pretty bad from what I can see." Jamie felt numb. His emotions were in turmoil for all the suffering his beautiful, brave Sassenach had endured for the Section. But the pain of their separation and the fact the he had been unable to protect her ate away at him more. He felt a cold wave of regret for his inability to protect her and disdain for the triad waft through him. What had the Rising Dragons subjected her to? The words of Jonathon Randall echoed in his brain torturing his mind. We've tried everything ... Electrodes had obviously been used to torture her. What kind of state would he find her in? His heart felt the pain of his love’s suffering ... but it hardened with the loathing and contempt for the perpetrators of her torture. They would pay ... and pay dearly. Once he had rescued his Claire and the backup team had arrived to take care of the other triad members at the monastery, he would seek revenge but, in the meantime, he would do whatever it took to retrieve her. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* Wang Yu and Jonathon Randall had left Andy Ma and Ronald MacNab in the torture room with Claire Beauchamp with instructions to return her to her room but Andy had other ideas. With emotionless eyes he watched the prisoner. Her body hung like a limp rag doll from the rafters. He'd observed how Claire had recoiled at Jonathon's last attempt to make her talk. The episode with the rats had nearly been her downfall, but by far the most explosive method had been their water torture. Before cutting her down and following his orders, Andy decided to try one last time to see if he could make any headway with this woman.

"All right this is the last time that I'm going to ask. Look at me. LOOK! AT! ME!" he yelled his face flushing with the force of his words. Sweat dribbled down Claire's brow into her eyes but she defiantly raised them and stared at the man who had pretended to be a meek musician but was anything but.

"Why did you kill Tony Wong and where is Madame Cheung?" She refused to reply and closed her eyes. "Did you dispose of her too?" Her silence was beginning to get on his nerves. Andy signalled to Ronald MacNab to get the hose ready to spray her as he again threatened to use the electro shock treatment on her.

"Do you have anything to tell me? Anything?" Slowly opening her eyes, Claire tried to focus on her interrogator. She heard footfalls as they brought Ronald MacNab closer to her until he was within her line of sight too. She flinched when she saw what he intended to do.

"Wait!" she uttered, then whispered a little softer, "Wait… wait." Happy that MacNab had done enough, Andy smiled a pleased, malicious smile then menacingly came closer.

"Yes ... I'm listening." ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* James Fraser hastened along the corridor but stopped when he saw two triad members who were watching what was going on in the torture room through a glass observation window. The men were preoccupied and didn't hear him approach until Jamie swiftly slammed one man back against the wall. The guard reached for his gun but before his hand could reach his weapon Jamie shot him with his silencer. The impact of the muffled bullet caused the man's body to jerk and fall into a heap on the floor. The second man tried to get a shot at him but the Section operative was aware of the guard's movements behind him. In a split second, he grabbed him by the throat. The man lashed out and somehow managed to wrench away from his attacker. He tried to make a run for it to raise the alarm of an intruder, but taking aim Jamie shot him down. The victim keeled over, his head hit the floor with a thump and blood spilled from his mouth. Returning to the observation window James Fraser peered through it. An anger so profound coursed through his being as his eyes locked on the sight before him. Time stood still while the pulse of rage and the need for blood thrummed like a heartbeat in his chest at what he observed below. There was no mistaking the long brunette hair hanging down around the face of the beautiful tortured woman inside the room. At last he had found her. He had found his Claire but what had they done to his beautiful Sassenach?

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Hoping that her frail reply had given her some respite from Andy Ma's persistent questioning Claire lowered her head, her chin resting on her chest. Although exhausted, she dug deep within herself for more hidden strength while at the same time bracing herself for what she was about to do. Andy was confident that their hostage would answer his question; however, although he inched closer to their captive, he was wary of her too. He'd seen what she had done to Jonathon Randall and stayed his distance somewhat. Even though Claire Beauchamp looked like a spent force, he didn't trust her. Keeping his gaze on her suspended from the rafters, he singled to Ronald MacNab to have the hose ready just in case she decided to try anything like the last time and in reprisal for him kicking her as well.

Nodding in understanding, MacNab turned on the valve and water gushed out of the hose onto the floor beneath Claire's feet. Andy moved closer. A purposeful gleam appeared in his eyes knowing that finally this woman was about to crack. At last he had the upper hand and his sarcasm was obvious. "You were saying?" Raising her head, Claire eyed him with contempt. In the split second that their eyes met, Andy realised that she was not submissive at all and began lashing out at him again with her feet. Noticing what their hostage had done to his colleague, Ronald doused her in a gush of cold-water causing her to lose her grip and set Claire in a tail spin with the force of the spray. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* James Fraser's shadow ominously fell across the observation window as he saw what was happening below. What they were doing to his Sassenach was more than he could bear. He would wait not one second more. Without a moment’s hesitation he burst through the tempered safety glass window shattering little pebble-like fragments of glass shards every which way as he flew through the air towards the ground like an avenging angel.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* Suddenly without warning there was an almighty crash. Claire looked up.  Her face was dead white, sheened with a cold sweat that had soaked her hair.

"Jamie," she whispered, speaking hoarsely through lips cracked with dryness. She was clearly dazed and every line of her body was eloquent with pain but that didn’t matter now because her Jamie was here. Suddenly her pain was of no consequence for the man she loved had come for her.

Relief. He was here. Andy Ma and Ronald MacNab were startled by the noise and they too turned at the sound of the glass shattering. What appeared to be some kind of apparition had crashed down through the overhead observation window. Shooting at them with guns in both hands the man menacingly floated down as glass fragments, like a ray of light beams, showered all around him. They raised their guns to return fire but were no match for this cold Level 5 operative’s deadly aim. Andy was shot with a direct hit to the heart before he could even fire a shot in retaliation. He fell to the ground with a thud, his eyes wide with shock and with his gun still lodged in his hand. Ronald MacNab had no hope of returning fire. He was caught in Jamie's rampant crossfire as another rapid round of shots felled him immediately after Andy. James Fraser had swiftly taken care of Claire’s two torturers with not one thought for them whatsoever other than to seek revenge for what they had inflicted on his woman. Glancing down at the two bodies that lay below her feet still coupling their firearms Claire exhaled a breathy sigh.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Bending his knees to cushion his fall, James Fraser fell to the floor landing steadily as his feet touched the ground. With guns poised for any other assailant who might appear, he casually stood up. His eyes were focused only on the woman he loved strung up like a piece of meat at an abattoir. As he approached her, he did not take his eyes off of his bold Sassenach for one second. He wanted to see every inch of her injured body and see everything that they had done to his beautiful woman. Moving closer and closer to her, he casually stowed his guns away back in the holsters in his jacket. However, each step towards her was agony especially seeing what the triad interrogators had done to her and what she had endured. “Oh, my god ... Claire ... what the hell have they done to ye?”  He whispered trying to ease the choking sensation that formed a lump in his throat.

His stomach too was in knots at seeing her suffer this way while a large ball of ice in the pit of his stomach seemed to grow more intense the closer he came towards her. Jamie's breath caught in his throat in uncontained rage as he looked at his love hanging suspended from the ceiling. He couldn't help glancing towards her and at the damage that the triad's torture techniques had wreaked on her. There was no escape from his feelings.  His heart hardened with the contempt he felt for them and their methods. Loathing for the triad and revenge for what they had perpetrated were paramount in his thoughts. As he walked closer and closer, his eyes refused to sever their gaze from his love’s battered body.  Claire looked traumatised, distressed and deathly pale. She was alive ... but only just. It only took one look at her to cause a gamut of emotions to rush through his body. Jamie's heart clenched in pain with thoughts of what his Sassenach had suffered at the hands of the vindictive triad and the torture methods of Jonathon Randall. Seething with such loathing and vindictiveness towards this man peppered his thoughts of what he would do to him when he had the chance.  

In a voice that he didn’t recognise as his own Jamie declared again, “What has he done to ye? I’m going to kill him for this.”

There was nothing too severe or painful that he wouldn’t do to seek retribution on the man who had hurt his Sassenach.  There was nothing that he wouldn’t do to make this man pay for the atrocities he had inflicted on the porcelain skin of his Claire.  There was no suffering that would be good enough for Jonathon Randall that would ever be enough punishment for his methods of torture towards his love.  He would take great satisfaction in seeing the man suffer exponentially until he saw him take his last breath.  Nothing would be more gratifying than witnessing his demise and he would do it even with his bare hands. It wouldn’t be quick but a more protracted slow death that would make Jonathon Randall wish that he had never been born.  

Jamie inhaled deeply swallowing back the bile that had risen in the back of his throat. It was impossible to stop the feelings that he couldn't control or deny. If only he could have changed places with her. He would have done anything humanly possible and more for his Claire to have avoided the suffering that she had endured. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“Sassenach?”

Claire was near fainting but opened her eyes for a moment at Jamie’s gentle voice.  Slowly but proudly, she raised her head to look at him with a tremulous smile on her teary face. Jamie could see the shock in the back of her eyes. Holding her gaze with his own, he came closer reassuring Claire that she was safe at last. His heart thumped erratically against his ribs until at last he stood directly in front of her. He studied her swollen and bruised face intently. His eyes traversed every inch of her features. Claire’s hair was ragged, soaked and dripping in matted tendrils across her beautiful face. Her skin was covered in welts and was laced with black and blue bruises like she had gone fifteen rounds in a boxing match. Seeing her suffer like this was tearing his guts out but the relief at finding her alive was overwhelming. His body's reaction to her overpowered him causing Jamie to be aware of the hot rush of awareness at her nearness. Something he had always tried to suppress time and time again refused to be denied. He fully acknowledged that his feelings for Claire Beauchamp were more than just a painful white-hot desire ... he loved her deeply and unconditionally and it was this overwhelming love for her that seared his heart. Claire looked at him. Shock registered on her face at seeing Jamie materialise before her eyes but when their eyes met, time stood still. She stared back at him in disbelief. His troubled but relieved eyes connected and held with hers as Claire searched his face, caressing his features while making sure that what she was seeing was real. Her beautiful blue eyes reassured him that she was okay despite what she looked like. Jamie saw the relief that was centred there and love radiated in eyes that lingered on his form. Reciprocating, his azure eyes bared his soul to her as well at having found her at last. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* Bending down James Fraser gently lifted his love up holding her from behind her legs. "Arrrghhhhh!" Claire moaned as his hands nearly touched her sore ribs. Her head lolled backwards as he raised her arms so that he could unhook her wrist bonds from the overhead hook holding the chains on the beam. Closing her eyes, Claire placed her hand on Jamie's shoulder as her body weight was finally released from her shackles. Ever so gently, he guided her broken and bruised body back down his own. He moved closer and tenderly drew her towards him. Her arms latched about his neck. The connection of Claire’s torso to his was cathartic for he was so thankful that at long last he'd been able to find her alive. Jamie's eyes caressed every inch his Sassenach’s face then her body while assessing her demeanour. He couldn't seem to take them from her. He didn't want to look away. He wanted to see what damage the triad's torture techniques had done to his beautiful, brave Claire, and at the same time he wanted to make sure that she was okay. His eyes lovingly caressed every precious inch of her.

“Mo ghràidh?” he muttered, as his eyes canvassed her beautiful scared face. “I’ve got ye. Ye are safe now,” Jamie said decisively. "That man willna lay hands on ye again, while I live.”

Claire swayed in pain near to fainting. Her eyes closed, as sweat beaded in hundreds of tiny pearls on her porcelain skin … skin that had been marked by the vicious actions of her captors.  However, she opened her eyes at the sound of his voice and it was her throaty words that brought his eyes back to her face.

"Jamie ... I'm okay." She tightened her arm on his shoulder for balance as he tenderly lowered her to the ground. Her legs felt like jelly, she could hardly stand, but Jamie supported her weight and held her a moment, looking at her with concern. He continued to caress her face, while her head leaned forward. The smudges under her eyes gave evidence that she had had little rest of late, while the evidence of her interrogators' brutality was written all over her beautiful face. He saw the outward bruises, but what of those within? He thought, “will those ever heal?”

Her eyes were glazed. Claire was teary eyed but not with the pain of her body but with the sheer elation of having him here. Her avenging angel had come for her as she knew he would. When her face fell towards his shoulder, Jamie captured it in his hands brushing her hair away so that he could see her better.  He tenderly held her battered face within the palms of his hands while his thumb slowly and repeatedly caressed her cheek over and over, hoping that his loving touch would help kick-start her healing.  His fingers gently stroked behind her ears reassuring her that he was here and that she was safe at last. His Sassenach looked at him with half lidded eyes and caressed his blue eyes with glassy eyed emotion. Jamie raised his right hand and traced over her face with fingertips that were as soft as silk stroking her softly. He couldn't stop touching his Claire ... caressing her ... loving her for her bravery and for her doggedness in the face of adversity. The triad and Jonathon Randal especially would pay dearly for what they had done to her. His vengeance knew no bounds. Placing his arm around her, Jamie protectively pulled Claire’s body flush to his own so that she could feel safe and secure. Her eyes looked at him stroking his face in return. He swiftly unfastened her cuffs removing the chains from around her wrists, one at a time. She fell forward exhausted and spent and he cradled her body gently to his own knowing that his Sassenach was in great agony. "I thought Karen was my friend," she uttered in softly spoken words. "Shhh... It doesn't matter now ... yer safe mon nighean donn ... I'm here," he replied his voiced laced with emotion. “Ye have my protection now.”

However, her concern for him was her only thought. "Jamie ... Oh, you should have had backup. You had no way of knowing if I was going to be all right. What if this room was full of triad members? Hmmm? You wouldn't have made it out of here." Her words filled his heart with joy and his reply was just as poignant. "If ye weren't alive, it wouldn't have mattered Sassenach." Opening her eyes, Claire lovingly caressed his features once again as Jamie's reply found a home in her heart too.

“You must get out of here at once.  They’ll be back soon.”

“Let them …”  

Jamie’s words spoke volumes as to what he was thinking as he hurriedly pulled the remaining chains away from her, flinging them away in disgust. Although his arm was around her waist, Claire was unable to stand alone at the moment. Her feet would not cooperate and she nearly stumbled but he held her tightly refusing to let her fall. Then placing his arm around her waist Jamie bent down and moving with exquisite care lifted her up. Her arms automatically wound around his shoulders and she held on tight. Quickly they made their exit from the torture room as James Fraser carried her upstairs and away from her place of torture and incarceration. He wanted to get his Claire as far away from the monastery as possible ... away from the triad and back to Section One and to Medical, for the sooner she began to heal the better.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ to be continued on Friday 24th

#Jamieandclairefanfic #jamieandclairecrossover #jamieandclaireau #covert operations #outlander fanfiction #outlanderandLFN #the lallybroch library

[sueboohscorner]

#Outlander - "The Fiery Cross" S5, Ep1 Recap

#The Fiery Cross – Outlander S5, Ep2 Recap

Cheers to the end of “Droughtlander!”  Let’s recap!

The episode begins with a young Jamie and Murtaugh.  Jamie’s mother has just passed and Murtaugh makes a vow to Jamie that he will always be there for him.  It’s a promise he has kept through good times and bad – and there have been some really bad times for Godfather and Godson!  

Now, at Fraser’s Ridge, we see that Jamie and Claire have been busy!  They have built a beautiful new home and have given Brianna and Roger their cabin.  They’ve also got a growing number of tenants – families who have settled on the Ridge. 

It’s Roger and Brianna’s wedding day and Roger is fumbling about trying to shave with a “cutthroat razor.” Jamie steps in to help.  Roger shares with Jamie his fears about not having what it takes to be successful in this era.  He’s a scholar – not a hunter or farmer – so what will his place in this new world be?  He and Jamie are still awkward with each other, but Jamie has made a peace offering and presents Roger with a beautiful handmade, wedding band for him to place on Brianna’s finger.  It’s a start but Jamie also has fears that Roger won’t be able to adapt to his new life. 

Meanwhile, Claire is helping the bride dress.  It’s a beautiful mother/daughter moment that Claire thought she would never have when she left her daughter behind to return to Jamie.  How thankful she is to be able to share this day with Brianna. 

While Claire prepares the bride, Jamie searches for items for Brianna’s something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue.  With gifts in hand, Jamie finds his daughter and is speechless when he sees how beautiful Brianna is.  Jamie presents her with his mother’s pearls, her bouquet, a shot of whiskey and a silver sixpence from Murtaugh who can’t be there because he’s in hiding.  Bree dons the pearls, takes the bouquet, drinks the whiskey and puts the coin in her shoe.  Like Claire, Jamie thought he would never have this day with his daughter and tells her how hard it is to give her away when he’s just found her (tissues please). 

It’s time for the ceremony and a proud Jamie walks Bree down the aisle.  Though, much to Jamie’s chagrin, the ceremony is to be performed by a protestant minister.  Nevertheless, Jamie gives his daughter away, Brianna and Roger exchange their vows as Jamie and Claire remember their wedding day (and we get to enjoy the memories too).  

Roger and Brianna are now man and wife so on to the party!  At the receiving line, Governor Tyron congratulates the bride and groom and asks to speak with Jamie at a more appropriate time.  Jamie, of course, knows what the Tyron wants to talk about – Murtaugh’s capture.  Aunt Jocasta approaches the newlyweds and requests a private meeting with Roger.  

The Fraser clan throws quite a party, and as Brianna and Roger cut their cake, they remark on how lovely the day has been.  They “feed” each other cake and Roger makes a comment about having another ceremony when they go back to “their” time.  From the look on Brianna’s face, it doesn’t appear that she is planning on going back. Clearly, she and Roger haven’t talked about it and if you remember last season, when Claire and Bree talked about her returning home, Claire was concerned about taking the baby through the stones. 

As the party and dancing continues, Brianna is looking for a dance with Jamie.  As she searches for Jamie, she overhears a conversation with between Jamie and Lord John as he tells Jamie that there have been reported sightings of Stephen Bonnet.  Hearing Bonnet’s name and learning that he may be alive, brings back all the memories of that horrific night. Try as she might, it’s as if the floodgates have opened and the terror Brianna experienced at the hands of Bonnet, can no longer be suppressed.  

As Brianna tries to push the memories aside, Roger serenades her and they have a beautiful wedding night.  Afterwards though, as Roger sleeps beside her, the panic returns as do the flashbacks.  Unaware of what is happening with their daughter, Jamie and Claire finally get their grandson to sleep and try to have their own “wedding night” without waking the baby.  Also, did you catch the moment in the montage when Marsali appears to tell Fergus that she is having another baby by gently touching her stomach?  It happened so quickly that I almost missed it. 

In more wedding night shenanigans, with the festivities dying down, Jocasta is led back to her room and who is there to greet her?  Murtaugh!  Seems he got to catch a glimpse of the wedding after all!  Jocasta and Murtaugh have their own romantic night but in the light of day, she tells him that Duncan Innes has proposed marriage, but she has not yet given him an answer.  She is hoping that Murtaugh will tell her not to marry but how can he do that when his life is in danger?  He tells Jocasta that he will not stand in the way of her happiness. 

It’s time for Roger’s meeting with Jocasta.  Jocasta tells Roger that she has changed her will to make Jeremiah her heir instead of Brianna.  She tells Roger that if she left her fortune to Bree as she had originally intended, then her money would essentially belong to Roger.  Jocasta feels that Roger may treat Jeremiah more favorably is he knows that Jem will inherit everything.  Roger is pissed and tells Jocasta where she can put her money and storms off!  Rather than being upset at Roger’s outburst, Jocasta just grins. 

It seems this is the reaction she was hoping for from Roger.  Roger returns to Bree and Jeremiah and pledges with a blood oath claiming that Jeremiah will be his son, now and forever – no matter what.   

Back to Jamie and Claire, Jamie tells Claire that Governor Tyron is no longer satisfied with Jamie’s efforts to locate Murtaugh and demands Jamie honor the deal he made with the governor or lose Fraser’s Ridge.  He orders Jamie to assemble his men and hunt down Murtaugh.  He wants to see Murtaugh publicly hang as a lesson for all the Regulators.  Jamie sees no way out of it. How can Jamie hunt and murder Murtaugh?  But, as Fraser’s Ridge is now home to more than just his family, how can he risk losing his land when so many have made a home there? 

The bigger problem facing Jamie and Claire is that they know the Revolutionary War is coming and Jamie needs to make sure his men are loyal to him and not to the Governor.  Jamie goes to the chest containing his highlander garb.  His kilt, tartan…all of it.  It has all been hidden away since it was banned by the British after Culloden.  Seeing Jamie in his kilt, is emotional for Jamie and Claire and for us too.  It’s been a long time since we’ve seen Jamie in his kilt and it’s still a fabulous sight to behold!   

As everyone assembles, Jamie lights the fiery cross.  I’ve read a couple of other articles recapping this episode and some had a problem with the burning cross and the historically negative connotation that comes with it.  Honestly, it didn’t strike me that way at all, I saw it as a celebration of Scottish tradition, but I’d interested to see how you felt about it.  But I digress…back to the ceremony.  As Jamie lights the cross, he explains the meaning of the ceremony as a call to war and asks the men to pledge their loyalty to him.  He looks first to Roger, who it appears doesn’t get what Jamie is asking of him.  But as Fergus and the men of Fraser’s Ridge step forward to pledge their loyalty to Jamie finally Roger does too. 

Now to the final moments of “The Fiery Cross.”  Jamie finds Murtaugh as he hides in the woods.  Jamie warns Murtaugh that he must flee.  Jamie can no longer hold off the demands of the Governor to hunt him down.  An emotional Jamie releases Murtaugh from his vow and urges him to go somewhere where he can’t be found (more tissues please). 

I thought it was a great episode.  I have not read the books though (I’m working on it), but I’m told by those who have that the show’s creators did a great job of setting things up for what’s to come. 

The next episode, entitled “Between Two Fires” airs on Sunday, February 23.  Subscribe to www.sueboohscorner to see my recap and the recaps of all your favorite shows. 

#outlander #jamiefraser

[swanqueeneverafter]

47. Swan Song, Pt.5

Enchanted Forest. (Mulan sits listening to Ruby describe her time with the pack.) Ruby: “It was like nothing I've ever felt before… the pine needles underfoot, the air rushing over my fur, my brothers and sisters at my side. I couldn’t believe it.” Mulan: “It sounds as though you’ve found your home, at last.” Ruby: (Smiles:) “I think I have. Come with me to meet my mother, I know she’ll like you, she values strength and an unyielding spirit.” Mulan: “My history with your kind is complicated. I don’t think-” Ruby: “Please, Mulan. I would never have found them without you.” Mulan: (Relents:) “All right, but I won’t stay long.” Storybrooke. Beneath The Clock Tower. (Emma goes to swing the dwarf axe at the Stone of Destiny which holds Excalibur.) Darkness: (Appears, draped across the stone:) “A dwarf axe. Now, that's a creative path to failure.” Emma: “Dwarf axes cut through everything.” Darkness: “Nothing cuts through magic. Except maybe a kiss. Have you thought about kissing it out? (Laughs as Emma swings and the axe breaks on the stone:) You're running out of options, deary. You see, we want you to, uh, snuff out the light. So, we need a hero to pull Excalibur from the stone. Now... let's face facts, that's not gonna be you. So, why don't you stop messing around and go get the hero we need? Oh, and, uh, you and I both know who that is.”

Granny's Diner. (Everyone is celebrating being back, but Regina sits alone at the bar. Sliding a shot glass in front of Regina, Belle joins her. Upon receiving a questioning look, Belle merely raises her glass. Picking hers up, Regina shrugs and clinks glasses with Belle before downing the shot.) By The Jukebox. (Henry notices Violet standing by the jukebox and walks over to her.) Henry: “Violet?” Violet: (Turns:) “Henry, hey.” Henry: “What are you doing in Storybrooke?” Violet: “I don’t know. My father and I were in the stables and when we finished caring for the horses, we found ourselves in this strange place.” Henry: “Your entire house is here?” Violet: (Nods:) “It’s in the forest not too far from here.” Henry: “I.. I’m sorry. I’ve no idea why my Mom would’ve brought you back with us.” Violet: “My father isn’t best pleased. He was wary of magic at the best of times, now he won’t leave our house.” Henry: “We’ll find a way to get you back home, I promise.” Violet: (Smiles:) “I’m in no hurry. (Turns to the jukebox:) Remind me, how does this contraption work again?” Henry: “We call it a jukebox. (Pulls a coin from his pocket:) If you feed it, it will sing for you.” (Henry inserts the coin and music begins to play.) In The Booth. (David smiles, watching Henry and Violet reconnect, then notices the worried look on his wife’s face.) David: “Mary Margaret? It's okay. We're gonna get Emma back, and we're gonna win this fight.” Mary Margaret: “I know. You're forgetting one thing, David. If we win... Emma loses.” 

Granny’s Diner. Exterior. (Unseen, Emma stands across the street watching everyone get on with their lives. She walks forward as if to enter the diner, then turns and walks away.) Enchanted Forest. Anita's Den. (Mulan stands by the fire pit as Anita and Ruby argue.) Anita: “How dare you bring that murderer here?” Ruby: (Confused:) “Mulan? She's my friend.” Anita: “Her kind are the reason we've been driven underground.” Mulan: (As Ruby looks to her:) “I told you I had a history with your people.” Anita: “She and her red-headed army slaughtered your brothers and sisters.” Mulan: “It was King Fergus' army, and you attacked us first.” Anita: “Lies.” Mulan: “You raided villages, you killed the clan's children whilst they slept.” Ruby: “No. Mother?” Anita: “You don't understand. Our people were starving. (Points at Mulan:) King Fergus and his people drove us from our traditional hunting grounds. There was nothing left for us to feed on.” Ruby: “So you ate their children? Anita: “We fought back, we had no choice. To do nothing would've shown weakness.” Ruby: “You could have moved on, you could've found new hunting grounds!” Anita: “If you back down even once they've got you, and then all is lost. I've regretted losing you every day since she took you from me.” Mulan: “So because you lost your child, it justifies slaughtering others?” Anita: “You don't get to judge me, savage. (To the others:) Take her.” Ruby: “What are you doing?” Anita: “She'll pay for the lives we lost.” (Mulan spins her sword, ready to defend herself.) Ruby: “Mother, don’t do this.” Anita: “You already made your choice, Red. You're one of us now. Act like it. Kill her.” Ruby: “No. I won't kill my friend.” Anita: “Then I will.” Ruby: “No. Mother, stop!” Anita: “Sorry, my daughter. This is what it means to be a wolf.” (Wolfstime approaches and by now Mulan has been backed into a corner. Anita transforms into her wolf form and stalks toward Mulan. Anita attacks but Ruby intervenes. In the process, the older woman accidentally impales herself on a spike. Anita transforms back into her human form with a spike jutting out of her chest.)

(Driving the other pack members away, Mulan picks up Ruby’s cloak and drapes it over her.) Ruby: (Now back in her human form, kneels beside her mother:) “I didn't mean to. I'm... I'm sorry, mother.” Anita: “You chose her.” Ruby: “No. I chose me. I'm not a killer.” (Anita passes away.) Storybrooke. Granny’s Diner. The Next Day. (Belle enters the diner, carrying the rose given to her by Mother Superior.) Belle: “Granny, have you got my lunch ready?” Granny: “Yeah, but, girl, you're gonna need more than that. Sit down for some real food.” Belle: “I can't. Oh, my god, look. (The last petal is on the stem:) Yeah, I have to get back to him. Just forget the soup. I'm sorry.” Granny: “Hang on, is it supposed to do that?” (The rose petals start floating back into place.) Belle: “What? He's waking up.” (Belle dashes out of the diner.) Mr. Gold’s Shop. Back Room. (Belle runs in to find Rumple's bed empty.) Beneath The Clock Tower. (The Darkness stares at Mr. Gold.) Darkness: “You know, he doesn't look too good... if I do say so myself. (Emma produces Neal’s shawl:) Quite a stroke of luck, you finding something that touched him when he was a man.” Emma: “Well I wasn’t going to call Hook back to Storybrooke to borrow something of his, now was I?” (Emma incinerates the shawl, leaving the ashes to fall on top of Mr. Gold.)

Mr. Gold's Shop. (Belle watches as the rose becomes whole.) Beneath The Clock Tower. (Mr. Gold breathes deeply and wakes up.) Mr. Gold: (Startled by the sight of Emma:) “What do you want from me? You are the Dark One now, not me.” Emma: “That's right. You are not dark. You are also not light. You are nothing. Your heart is a blank slate. And that, little man, makes you useful. (Kneels beside him:) Because now I can make you into the last thing you ever thought you would be. A hero. And not just any hero. The purest who's ever lived. And then... (Emma looks at the Darkness, who nods eagerly. Rumple looks confused at the empty space behind the Stone of Destiny:) And then I have a job for you.” 

The Enchanted Forest. (Ruby has buried her mother in a makeshift grave in the forest outside the den.) Ruby: “May you always run free beneath the moon's pale light. Goodbye, mother.” Mulan: “I'm so sorry. (Sighs deeply) This is my fault.” Ruby: “No. (Sighs:) My mother wanted me to choose between being a wolf and being a human.” (Sniffles.) Mulan: “What will you do now?” Ruby: (Pulling her hood up:) “You helped me find what I was searching for, it’s only right that I do the same for you.” Mulan: “But I don’t even know what that is.” Ruby: “Well, the pain of a broken heart took you from your path as a heroic warrior. Maybe returning to that path will help mend it?” Mulan: “I’ve seen enough of war and I won’t return to being a mercenary. Whatever path I choose, there must be honor in it.” Ruby: (Thinks:) “Perhaps you could travel from village to village, fighting wrongs wherever you see them.” Mulan: “Yeah. (Liking the idea:) Yeah, maybe I could.” Ruby: “And, if you didn’t mind the company, I could join you, as your partner?” Mulan: (Smiles:) “I think I’d like that.” (They turn and begin walking.) Ruby: “Hey, if Xena and Gabrielle can do it, why not us, right?” Mulan: (Confused:) “Who?” Ruby: “Oh, right. I forgot you don’t get television in this land.” Mulan: “Well, they sound interesting, can you tell me about them?” Ruby: (Chuckles:) “Well, in a time of ancient gods, warlords and kings, a land in turmoil cried out for a hero...” Storybrooke. Beneath The Clock Tower. (Mr. Gold is tied up as Emma stands before him.) Mr. Gold: “I remember how the Darkness feels. But you don't have to give in to it. You just... You could just set me free.” Emma: “The only one who can get me that sword, is you.” Mr. Gold: “I can't be the hero you want.” Emma: “Of course you can. You're like a dull knife sitting in a drawer. But don't worry. I have just the thing to sharpen you up.” Mr. Gold: “What?” Emma: “We'll call it my secret weapon.” 

Storybrooke. A Tunnel. (Emma walks towards her yellow bug, where she has Merida tied to the front.) Merida: “I should have trusted my gut when I first met you. You are a witch.” Emma: “I should have trusted my gut, kept that heart of yours.” (Reaches down and takes Merida’s heart again.) Merida: “Oh! Now you're gonna kill me? You coward!” Emma: (Takes away Merida’s ability to speak and releases her bonds:) “No more talking. Go pick up the bow. (Merida stands to obey the command:) You see, there's a guy I know. You wouldn't like him. He's a real coward. But for me to get what I want, that needs to change. I need you to make him just like you. I need you to make him brave.”

The End.

#sq #swanqueen #swan queen

[shirtlesssammy]

10x09: The Things We Left Behind

Then:

Netflix, why won’t you let me watch the Then segment? Here’s our recap for 10x08.

Now:

Welcome to the pain. MOC!Dean had a nightmare about murder.

At a youth transition center in Pontiac, IL, we’re re-introduced to troubled teen, Claire Novak, who has a severe attitude problem. It seems she was caught shoplifting and now she’s heading to solitary for a bit. (No wonder Claire’s a little angry...she’s an orphan in a juvie center that treats the kids less than human. Ugh.) The next morning, the guard announces that she has a visitor: her father. The emotions that flit her face just break me. She remembers the first time she met Castiel (“I am not your father”) and she knows the man in front of her isn’t her father, but her reaction to seeing the man with her father’s face is heartbreaking. She feigns toughness and demands, “You took everything from me. What do you want now?” Castiel responds, “Nothing, I just—I came here to help you.” Cas asks about Amelia, and we learn that a few months after Cas ripped apart their family, she left Claire with her mother and “went to go find herself.” And ever since Claire’s grandmother died, she’s been living the dream.

Cas wants to help, so Claire asks him to get her out of there.

Step One: Put on a tie, Cas.

(This was uncalled for.)

Step Two: Meet with the woman running the joint and convince her to release Claire to her “father”. She sees through their bullshit immediately. (But it sure is cute to watch Cas try.)

At the bunker, Dean’s self-medicating with the Three Stooges, and Sam’s helping by bringing him a grilled cheese sandwich. The Mark of Cain is not far from either of their thoughts.

Back at juvie, Cas enacts Step Three: He busts Claire out in the dead of night.

Rowena!

Crowley’s got her chained up in his dungeon. A demon brings in another demon that is topside illegally. She pleads to see him, but is rebuffed.

Cas takes Claire to a restaurant for some vegetables.

Claire tells Cas that he’s changed. He used to be a dick and now he’s just kind of a doof. Cas bby, bonding with your pseudo-daughter. He has changed. He’s seen the world, and understands humanity a little better.

The check comes and Cas asks Claire where they’re going next. Claire builds her walls again and tells him she doesn’t need babysitting. Just because he’s feeling guilty, doesn’t mean there’s more to their relationship. Cas won’t take no for an answer, so Claire switches gears. While Cas is attempting to pay for the meal, she heads to the ladies room, only to sneak out and hitch a ride (with Cas’s money.)

Cas calls the brothers to help him with locating Claire. Dean’s none too pleased (but let’s be real, he’s pleased.) Sam heads off to the youth center for possible leads, while Dean and Cas stay behind.

!!!BURGER DATE ALERT!!!

I don’t need to be that dramatic, but this is a *moment* with these two. There’s sailing ships and bi!plaid shirts, and most importantly, real honest conversation. There’s support and advice and kindness and confessions and...and...sigh. They’re each other’s biggest champions and neither of them can see it.

Meanwhile, Rowena butters up to the other demon. They swap stories and Rowena admits that she’s locked up because she “was a horrible mother.” Crowley concurs.

At the youth center, Sam learns that Claire had a friendship with a Dustin Tate. Claire also ran away a lot --one time for six months. Sam wonders where she hid out.

We soon find out it’s at a house of a man named Randy. Claire gives him Cas’s wallet (oof, it even had Jimmy’s wallet --and I’m JUST NOW figuring out why Cas’s birthday is always in July in fanfic. I feel like such a fake fan sometimes.) Despite her best efforts, Randy admits they’re “still short.” It seems that whatever Randy’s got himself into, it’s coming due later than night. This whole situation with Randy is beyond creepy. He guilts Claire more, and she implores him that there must be something more they can do. Randy has shifty eyes. He clearly has a plan for Claire.

Cas and the Winchesters ambush Dustin as he heads in to the Wiener Hut for work that night. Cas hoists him up along the wall by his throat so he’s really not holding much back. The Winchesters look on. YAWN another day at the office. Claire is busy robbing a convenience store so she can buy Randy out of his trouble. Cas intercepts her just as she starts to slip the gun out of her pocket and surprise the cashier.

Cas gives her a stern talk in the alley. Robbing people is wrong! Claire tells Cas that he killed her dad so who is he to talk about wrong or right with her? She pulls a gun on Cas and when he tells her, gently, that it won’t hurt him she swings it around to Sam and Dean. “You just stood there while this monster took my dad,” she says. When she turns back to Cas she tells him she used to pray to him every night about her dad.

“I know,” Cas says. Oh, Cas. He’s remorseful but they still try to convince her that she’s better off not going back to Randy. Claire tells him Randy is family - not Cas. Family don’t end in blood, after all.

Back with Rowena, a smirking guard approaches. Crowley is ready to see her! She’s led into the throne room where she addresses him as “Fergus.” Crowley looooves that so they’re off to a running start.

Rowena congratulates him on becoming King of Hell. Crowley scowls at her proud mama routine and asks her why she abandoned him at the age of eight. She lobs excuses at him.

Crowley’s having none of it, though, and he tells her he has a family already. (Ah, the themes are tying together so nicely now.) Rowena mocks him, though. Backstabbing demons make poor family. “I’ll always be your mother. And I’ll always love you.” She kisses him tenderly on his forehead while he looks ahead, his face a grim mask.

Meanwhile Sam, Dean, and Cas hit a bar. Cas asks for a shot of alcohol to burn away his pain. He’s worried about Claire but Dean tells him in his sweetest, most friendly manner (<sarcasm>) that Cas wearing “her old man’s meatsuit” doesn’t exactly help out his cause. The look Sam shoots him:

Sam tells Cas that Claire loved her father so she’s not going to get over her dislike of Cas any time soon. Cas reveals that he never knew his own father so he doesn’t understand the bond. He asks the Winchesters about their dad. “He’s not gonna win any number one dad awards,” Dean says, winning this prize I just created for UNDERSTATEMENT OF THE YEAR. Sam prompts him to tell a story of a visit to New York. They were in the area for a hunt and after Sam and John fell asleep Dean snuck off to CBGB. Dean gets roofied and as he slips into a haze John Winchester shows up and scares everyone around Dean. Afterward, John tells Dean he’s not his friend, he’s his father - and his job is to raise Dean right. And he did it! Dean grew up super well adjusted! Dean slams down the rest of his whiskey. Cas worries about Claire. Do they think she’s in trouble? Yes, yes they do.

Back at Randy’s Claire busts in on a little crime boss confrontation. Randy’s cornered while they shake him down for their money. Claire spits in the boss’ face, so they’re all off to a really great start. They haul Claire away and the boss tells Randy that he sees through his “caring father” act as a way to get her to steal for him. Randy tells him that he’s willing to bargain Claire for the rest of his debt if the deal is sweet enough.

At Hell headquarters, Rowena is about to be locked up again when she and the other prisoner accuse Gerald of smuggling people out of Hell. Crowley ends up knifing Gerald and then tells his mother she’s free. The other prisoner hisses at Rowena. “You said if I lied, you’d get me out of here.” Rowena tells her she’ll be back soon (probably with a knife or something) and closes the cell door behind her.

Back with Claire, creepy crime boss walks in on her, then locks the bedroom door. He approaches her insidiously and touches her face. She kicks him in the balls. Downstairs the front door opens. Cas power blasts the guy who answers the door and they hear Claire screaming. Cas breaks the bedroom door down, allowing Claire to get the upper hand. She kicks the ever loving shit out of the crime boss before Cas drags her away.

Cas, Sam, and Claire race out the front door. Dean threatens the rest of the criminals, telling them to keep their distance. He gets surprised by the crime boss smashing a bottle over his head from behind. We flash back to the Mark of Cain and all the darkness it’s brought Dean. “You guys don’t wanna do this,” he warns. The crime boss scoffs and kicks him in the head.

Outside Sam, Cas, and Claire climb into the Impala when they realize Dean isn’t with them. Sam hears the sounds of a fight from inside the house and races to help Dean.

We cut to Dean, whose vision from the episode open is interspersed with reality now. Dead bodies are scattered everywhere and Dean holds a bloody knife. Sam runs up to Dean who’s kneeling shocked on the floor. He begs him to say that he had to kill them all. That it was him or them. “I didn’t mean to,” Dean says - which is NOT ACCEPTABLE. Cas looks in horror at the wreckage. Yeah, Dean’s doing greeaaaat with the Mark of Cain.

You’re Not My Quotes:

I fight certain deadly threats to humanity.

It’s just people trying to do their best in a world where it’s far too easy to do your worst.

How are you, Dean?

“I think I might have bedbugs. Any tips?” “Of course. Sleep tight and don’t let the bedbugs bite.”

Fergus. Sounds like a venereal disease and not the fun kind.

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[mhsn033]

ATP & WTA Tours return: Why a lack of fans could mean better behaviour on court

John McEnroe’s renowned rant

Practically 40 years within the past, John McEnroe screamed four words of fury at Wimbledon: “You would possibly perhaps well perchance’t be serious!”

That inappropriate outburst – in tandem with a supreme skills which ended in six Sizable Slam singles titles – created a ‘insurrection with out a contrivance off’ persona which boosted the American’s profile previous tennis.

Now not that he the least bit times felt it turn out to be to his revenue.

“I turned what I’d tell turn out to be admire a cigarette smoker that would possibly perhaps well perchance no longer kick the dependancy,” McEnroe talked about in a 2018 interview.exterior-link “It felt admire I turn out to be doing it for the negative causes.”

One motive turn out to be entertainment.

With ATP and WTA events returning within the support of closed doorways this month, a number one sports psychologist believes the dearth of followers is seemingly to appear fewer controversial outbursts.

“The expression of arouse would possibly perhaps well perchance perchance moreover very correctly be a strategic blueprint of releasing frustration, nonetheless it would possibly perhaps perchance perhaps well perchance moreover very correctly be a communication characteristic and a intention of intelligent the followers,” says Andy Lane, who has labored with elite athletes all the most effective blueprint by varied sports for over 30 years.

“When there would possibly perhaps be no crowd, you are now no longer irritated due to the you are losing in front of a crowd, you are now no longer talking to anybody rather then your opponent, and also you are now no longer attempting to entertain a crowd.

“Without the expectation of followers, it is admire walking out to a coaching match. They’re walking in cold with none noise to gee them up, so they’re relaxed once they fetch on to court and they’ll plow by their pre-contrivance routines.

“That blueprint offended outbursts shall be less seemingly. If you happen to create expect any, they’re seemingly to be pre-planned due to the followers ceaselessly gas these acts.”

Why are of us are entertained by arouse?

Few things pump up a tennis crowd admire seeing a raging participant expending a total load of unfavourable energy.

Gamers fetch irritated at many things – however basically by their contain failure to lift out the shots they practise each day.

One other contrivance off is a perceived injustice by an legitimate – admire that which ended in McEnroe’s rant at some level of his Wimbledon first-spherical match against Tom Gullikson in 1981 or, more now no longer too lengthy within the past, Serena Williams’ outburst at some level of the 2018 US Start last against Naomi Osaka.

Serena Williams turn out to be docked a degree after which a game by umpire Carlos Ramos for verbal abuse within the 2018 US Start last. She turn out to be later fined $17,000 (£13,100) by the USTA

This behaviour is now no longer condoned by the tennis authorities, who can penalise the offenders competitively and financially.

But it is going to inform new eyes to the sport by providing an further ingredient of entertainment.

“Humans join very correctly to feelings and arouse – the crimson mist of losing control is something we all fetch,” says Lane, a professor of sports psychology at the College of Wolverhampton.

“So will occupy to you expect someone so elegant doing it you join carefully – and powerful of like looking out at it.”

Some avid gamers change into greater known to a magnificent wider carrying target audience for isolated outbursts barely than their on-court achievements.

For many, Argentine David Nalbandian is defined by kicking an marketing hoarding at Queen’s in 2012, injuring a line deem. Russian Mikhail Youzhny sever his headexterior-link at some level of a 2008 match after hitting himself alongside with his racquet.

Extra now no longer too lengthy within the past, clips of Czech gentle world number 1 Karolina Pliskova whacking a gap in an umpire’s chair after which-ATP Finals champion Alexander Zverev destroying a racquet at the Australian Start were broadly spread on digital platforms.

Discover about how overjoyed they’re! One fan will get Zverev’s broken racquet as a momento of her day out to Melbourne Park

Racquet smashes change into half of the entertainment. Marcos Baghdatis turn out to be egged on by a cheering Melbourne crowd when he demolished four within the distance of a minute at some level of an Australian Start defeat by Stan Wawrinka in 2012.

“It’s cramped one-admire. It’s relatable,” says Lane. “For the avid gamers, it is miles a elegant steadiness between squashing down the emotion and carrying the negative shots into the following game.

“Now not many avid gamers lose their cool at some level of a degree, they lose it at the head of a game. It’s far a strategic blueprint of refocusing.

“It tends to be a racquet shatter due to the that is the certainly element they’ll ‘blame’; they invent now no longer occupy any crew-mates to be offended with.”

How audiences are composed drawn to controversy

When McEnroe screamed ‘You would possibly perhaps well perchance’t be serious’ at umpire Edward James after disputing a line call at some level of that match against Gullikson, it turned certainly one of Wimbledon’s most fundamental moments.

It has spawned 1,000,000 punchlines, infinite impressions and turned the title of certainly one of McEnroe’s books.

The clip has got almost 1.5m YouTube views by the Wimbledon and ESPN channels within the previous 5 years.

“McEnroe turn out to be a showbusiness participant who old skool arouse as a crowd puller,” says Lane, also a manual for the Centre for Smartly being and Human Efficiency in London.

“I deem Gash Kyrgios has got somewhat that in him, even supposing he would possibly perhaps well perchance perchance moreover now no longer admit it. And due to it, of us occupy heard of him, whereas they would possibly perhaps perchance well perchance perchance moreover neutral now no longer occupy heard about avid gamers around him within the rankings.”

That is supported by the digital data gathered by sports analytics platform Hookit.

Despite by no blueprint being ranked at some level of the sphere’s top 10 nor previous a Sizable Slam quarter-last, the Australian has 2.4m followers on social media platforms.

Only 5 avid gamers within the males’s and girls’s top 10s occupy more – Rafael Nadal (39.8m), Roger Federer (35.3m), Williams (28.7m), Novak Djokovic (23.1m) and Simona Halep (3.6m).

In 2020, Kyrgios has more social engagement (more than 5.7m likes, comments, and shares) than every person within the head 10s rather then Djokovic (24.5m), Nadal (22.5m), Williams (17.2m) and Federer (14.9m).

Besides to social media, this online ardour also translates to the BBC Sport net net page and app, the establish tales provocative Kyrgios attract sizeable audiences.

The put up-match interview at Wimbledon 2019 the establish Kyrgios talked about he “desired to hit” Nadal with a shot turn out to be viewed by almost a million of us within the UK on my own, making it the acquire net page’s fourth most-read tennis fable of the fortnight.

Two months later, one other controversial incident at the Cincinnati Masters – the establish Kyrgios smashed two racquets and known as umpire Fergus Murphy a “potato” – attracted seven times the identical old series of views for a tennis video on BBC Sport.

On the assorted hand, this year’s US Start shall be with out the Australian after he withdrew from the match thanks to the coronavirus pandemic.

No doubt one of many acquire net page and app’s supreme tennis tales in fresh years turn out to be Williams wagging her finger at umpire Carlos Ramos while calling him a “liar” and a “thief” within the 2018 US Start last. The BBC Sport fable turn out to be read by more than two million of us within the UK.

The incident helped the match attract a median of three.1m television viewers within the United States, more than a 50% hike on the following day’s males’s last, and resulted in headlines and prognosis internationally from non-tennis media as well to tennis journalists.

How marketing fuels controversial moments

At Wimbledon in 1977, four years earlier than McEnroe’s inappropriate outburst, Nike founder Phil Knight turn out to be procuring for a new “horse to support” within the tennis world.

American tennis officials warned him to terminate away from McEnroe. Why? “On epic of he is a hothead,” they talked about.

Knight described in his autobiography how he “fell madly in love” with the Contemporary Yorker and signed him up the following year.

“Nike has a lengthy history of constructing personas which would possibly perhaps well perchance perchance be bigger than life, admire LeBron James, Tiger Woods and Michael Jordan,” says Kurt Badenhausen, a senior editor at Forbes journal, who specialises within the industry of sport.

“McEnroe turn out to be a wildly profitable and charismatic participant within the supreme market on this planet.

“However he turn out to be also certainly one of many supreme avid gamers of his generation thanks to the manner Nike marketed him because the negative boy of tennis.”

The hot incumbent of the role is Kyrgios, whose predominant gives encompass Nike, Yonex and Beats By Dre.

Per Hookit’s prognosis,exterior-link he has generated £310,000 of tag for brands in 2020 with completely Federer (£340,000) producing more.

“There would possibly perhaps be an argument factual now that most of the avid gamers on the males’s tour are indistinguishable to the casual fan, when you fetch previous the expansive three and Andy Murray,” says Badenhausen.

“A man admire Kyrgios stands out, he’s edgy, he’s walking that elegant line and for Nike they’ll fetch a intention that is luminous to make exercise of him.

“Of us recognise how talented he is, however how maddening he is. For Nike, if a guy admire that would possibly perhaps well perchance establish it collectively and acquire Sizable Slam titles, he is amazingly marketable.”

Dwell rankings, agenda and outcomes

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[iwantthedean]

Angels Among Us

Sequel to The Demon’s Pet.

Part Nine: Prepare

Word Count: 2035

Pairing: MoC!DeanxOFC

Summary: Dean and Zephaniah’s story continues as he fights against The Mark of Cain taking hold, and she avoids waging war with Heaven.

Warnings: Language. I think that’s it?

Masterlist

In the months since she had last been in Hell, Zephaniah had recalled the experience with little more than fear and anxiety. When she walked into Crowley’s dwelling this time, however, she did so with a cold look in her eye and all the confidence in the world.

Two demons stopped her outside of Crowley’s throne room. She held tight to the demon knife in her hand, prepared to defend herself but assuring them she was not here to attack anyone.

“Then why are you here?” one of the demons pushed.

“I have a proposal for your king.”

“Let her in,” a voice bellowed from the other side of the door.

Zephaniah nodded to both demons before letting herself through the doors. She approached Crowley where he was slumped to one side on his throne, looking far less than amused.

“Have you finally come to get your revenge, Zephaniah?” Crowley asked, his tone conveying his boredom.

“Not today. Sorry to disappoint,” Zephaniah smirked. “I seem to have reached a certain level of desperation, and I – God help me – need your help.”

Crowley perked up. “You need my help? Well, you have my undivided attention now, dear girl.”

“Months ago, Heaven asked me to prevent Dean from releasing The Darkness. I didn’t know that’s what it was at the time and – anyway. I have denied them several times over, and I’ve killed three angels in the process of figuring out another way to prevent The Darkness from being released. Nathaniel is leading the cause now, and, despite warnings from Castiel, I’ve chosen to maintain my stand against them.”

“Honestly, Zephaniah,” Crowley said, standing from his chair. “I can’t say I’m not impressed. I’m still curious, what could you need me for?”

Zephaniah took a deep breath. “Nathaniel is going to wage war against me, and anyone who stands with me. Castiel and the Winchesters will stand with me, but that may not be enough. When I thought of anyone who may have something against Heaven that would be enough to fight in this war with me, you were the first that came to mind.”

Crowley tilted his head and narrowed his eyes. “Why does this feel like a trick?”

“It’s not a trick, Fergus,” someone spoke up from behind Zephaniah. “The girl is truly here for your help.”

“Mother,” Crowley sneered. “I’d hate to think that you planted this seed in her head.”

“The idea was all her own,” Rowena assured, standing next to Zephaniah.

Crowley rolled his eyes. “Oh God, the two of you in cahoots with each other? I truly am being punished.”

“Your mommy said you could come out and play, Fergus,” Zephaniah smirked.

“Do not,” Crowley hissed. “You two women will be the death of me.”

“If we’re lucky,” Zephaniah mumbled under her breath; she immediately held up her hands in defense and apologized. “That was uncalled for. Crowley, I’m being serious about this, I really am. I brought Rowena because, while she was not the first person I thought of to have join us, she was the next. She has already agreed to join us, and I brought her with me as a show of good faith. I want us to win this war, but we cannot do it alone. And, come on – you cannot tell me that you would pass up a chance to kill some of those feathered dickheads.”

Crowley took a deep breath and considered her carefully. “What’s in it for me?”

Zephaniah glanced at Rowena, who stepped forward. “If we win this, Zephaniah has agreed to give up her soul. In order for that to happen, however, you must agree, Fergus, to allow me to be your second in command.”

“Win, win, win,” Crowley replied in a sing-song voice. “I suppose I can accept both of those conditions. Count me in.”

 With newfound confidence since Crowley was on board, and Rowena was on their side, Zephaniah decided it was time to re-train a little bit, for all of them. Castiel spent the next twenty-four hours leading them all through a crash course in fighting angels. When the training came to an end, they were all exhausted. Sleep was more of a priority than eating, as was showering. Before they retired to bed, Dean and Zephaniah took the time to down a glass of whiskey each. They were sitting at the table in the war room, and Dean was working up to ask Zephaniah the question he already knew he didn’t want the answer to.

“How’d you get Crowley in on this? And Rowena?”

Zephaniah polished off her drink. “I did what I’ve always done, Dean. I did whatever I had to do to keep us on the winning side.”

“What did you do, Zephaniah?” This time, there was no mistaking the adamancy in his tone.

“To get Crowley and Rowena, I had to get both of them,” Zephaniah said. “Crowley would only agree if I would give up my soul, and Rowena gets to be Crowley’s second-in-command. All of that is contingent upon our winning this war.”

“Yeah,” Dean scoffed, “because we’ll all be dead if we don’t win it.”

Zephaniah pushed her whiskey tumbler around in the ring of condensation on the, wooden table. “We may all die anyway. But the more people we have on our side, maybe we stand a little bit more of a chance.”

Instead of the angry reaction Zephaniah had expected from Dean, she saw tears gather in his eyes.

“You’re giving up your soul for me,” he said on a shaky breath, as though it wasn’t real until he said it out loud. “That’s the absolute last thing I ever wanted for you.”

“I know. Even when you were a demon, you tried to stop anyone from convincing me to give up my soul. It’s my turn to protect you now, Dean. I’m not sorry and I don’t regret any of the choices that I have made.”

Dean squeezed his eyes shut then, allowing the tears to overflow and make way down his face. Zephaniah left her seat sit his lap and hug the man who held her heart as close as she would allow. His tears, as much as they broke her heart, also gave her the slightest bit of hope that there was true love in Dean’s being for her, not only a connection created by The Mark.

 Several days went by with nothing much more to do than wait. The Winchesters, Zephaniah, Castiel, Crowley, and Rowena – their small army – filled the time as best they could.

Crowley returned to Hell to mind his minions while waiting for the war to break out. Rowena studied the Book of the Damned, giggling every now and then at the pretty little spells she was finding.

Castiel spent his time between Earth and Heaven, making last ditch efforts to avoid violence between the two worlds. Nathaniel was having none of it, it seemed, no matter how many offers Castiel attempted to negotiate on Zephaniah’s behalf.

Not that Zephaniah was offering anything. She told Castiel to go ahead and do what he thought he could do; she trusted his judgement. In the meantime, Zephaniah, Dean, and Sam continued to train and do as much research as they could. There were several possible outcomes for this fight, and they all knew there was no way to be entirely prepared for all of them – or any of them, really.

She had just finished reloading her favorite handgun when Dean found her in the shooting range. He admired the way she handled a gun that was just slightly too big for her hands, compensating by adjusting her grip and minding the angles of her shot.

“If you’d relax your shoulders a little bit, your shot would be perfect,” Dean said, crossing his arms over his chest.

Zephaniah considered him momentarily before making the small adjustment. She emptied the magazine into a grouping of shots with expert precision.

“Thanks,” she said, setting the gun on the bench in front of her.

Dean leaned against the bench, arms still crossed over his chest. He stared at the ground, trying to figure out how to put his thoughts into words. There were things he wanted Zephaniah to know; things he didn’t want either of them dying without having been said and known.

“When I was a demon and I showed up in that hotel room the first time, Zeph, I think I knew right away that I was going to be addicted to you – and it wasn’t The Mark. It was something more.” He opened his mouth to continue, but Zephaniah cut him off.

“We aren’t soulmates, Dean. I told you that. We’ve both read the lore on it, and this is not that at all.”

Dean nodded. “I know that, but I also know it’s more than The Mark. You saved me from all the worst parts of myself. Even when I tortured you, when I tried to push you away – you’ve stayed close. Even now, when you don’t believe that this is anything more than the root of all evil pulling towards your soul, you’ve stayed. Maybe I’m wrong – sure wouldn’t be the first time. Either way, no one has stood by me like you have. That’s reason enough for me to love you.”

Zephaniah couldn’t help her breath catching in her throat. Maybe they weren’t the kind of people who labeled their relationship or put emotions into words, but this, what Dean had said, meant the world to her.

“I’ll let you finish up here,” Dean said, interrupting her silent thoughts. He kissed her temple, then left the gun range.

With all manner of emotions bubbling up in her chest, Zephaniah loaded the gun’s magazine again and emptied it out again. When all those tiny explosions were not enough, she leaned on the bench in front of her, and cried.

 The knife in Zephaniah’s hand was weighty but she was already in love with the weapon. Castiel had stopped her in the hall as she swiped quickly at her tear-stained face. He had made the knife himself; he was vague about its creation, telling Zephaniah only that it held elements of the demon blade, an angel blade, and even the Spear of Destiny. Though he didn’t say how, Castiel assured her that the blade had been tested on both species, as well as some others. Besides The Colt, Zephaniah now possessed the most lethal weapon in existence.

“Dies Irae,” Castiel said, reading the script on the blade of the knife. “The name of the weapon.”

“Day of wrath,” Zephaniah translated out loud. “I’ve heard that phrase before. I researched the prophet Zephaniah once, when I realized where my name came from. Much of the book Zephaniah wrote is a warning of the return and wrath of the Lord.”

Castiel nodded. “That’s right. It seemed fitting.”

Zephaniah nodded. “Thank you, Castiel.”

Castiel gave her a single nod before Zephaniah headed to find Dean to show him the gift from Castiel. His room, however, was empty. Zephaniah frowned; his belongings were still there but Dean was nowhere to be found.

Her eyes landed on white envelope on the pillow she used when she slept in Dean’s room. Setting the Dies Irae on the nightstand, Zephaniah picked up the envelope with trembling hands. It had her name on it; she tore into the envelope quickly.

A picture of the two of them, one she remembered Sam getting a lot of shit for taking. She had no idea that Dean had a copy of the picture, until now.

It was one of the few nights between Dean being cured of the demon disease and Heaven’s interference in their lives that they had all been able to just relax. Dean was sitting against the arm of the couch, and Zephaniah had her legs extended over his lap. They were looking at each other and laughing at something funny one of them had said.

Zephaniah flipped the picture over. When she read the message in Dean’s scrawl on the back, her heart fell to the floor.

Don’t come find me, Zeph. My turn to stand by you, no matter what.

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