amani-shaqura

[jedi-hawkins]

Flower Sniping

The Clones all deserve flowers! Or maybe they think you deserve flowers 😉 Either way, love is in bloom this week for the Clone Flowers Fic Event!

Throughout this week, May 20th-25th, certain participants will be posting their own fics of Clones and different flower themes that were selected! The participants as well as the Clones and flowers they will be writing for are listed below and links to each fic will be added as they are posted! 💐 Follow the tag #cloneflowerficevent to see them all as they come!!

Event Masterlist

Written for an event with

@arctrooper69 - Tup, Rex, Gregor

@photogirl894 - Hunter, Wrecker, Fives

@nahoney22 - Fox, Tech

@totallyunidentified - 99, Cody

@dragonrider9905 - Hardcase

@l-lend - Wolffe

Make sure to go check out their entries too, we'll be posting throughout the week!

Pairing: Crosshair x f!reader

Chosen Flower: Lilies, Forever Lily

Word count: 8.1k (don't look at me like that)

Warnings: Brief mentions of war struggles and death, suggestive fluff, some swearing, reader has hair, frienemies (briefly) to friends (idiots) to lovers, mutual pining, a bit of angst, Crosshair is somewhat bad at expressing emotions

Beta-read by @photogirl894

"So, why are you putting me on babysitting duty, Argus?" You grumble, rolling your fingers over a knot in your shoulder. 

"You're one of my best agents, Lieutenant, and this is important. I need your eyes on it." Your commandant says plainly, glancing over a few things on the holotable in front of you. 

You cock an eyebrow. "Seriously? The war has been going on for a year and a half. What's so important that the Republic is taking an interest in Scarif now?" 

Argus rolls his eyes. "Look. I didn't ask. It's some sort of deal that the Prime Minister struck. In exchange for food and medical supplies, he's letting a single squad come and scout Western Sector 14." 

"You've got to be kidding me." You scoff. "Sector 14? There's nothing out there, I would know, it's where I spent most my childhood." 

"Another reason why you're the perfect person for the job." Argus says with a smirk. "You know as well as I do, Scarif has been struggling. The trade routes rarely reach all the way out here to us. If the Republic wants to send some supplies our way for showing a few tourists around, why not?" 

You fold your arms across your chest. "How can I argue with something as logical as that?" 

Argus lets out a chuckle. "Then get ready to play nice, they'll be here soon." 

"When do I ever not play nice?" You tease back. "How long are they staying?" 

"Six weeks." 

A laugh escapes your lips. "The Republic better be sending the good stuff, then." 

"They're some elite team, Squad 99, I think. I've been told they're one of the best." Argus retorts.

Smiling, you roll your eyes. "That's not what I meant. If they don't have a bottle of Corelian whiskey, this won't be worth it."

Argus just shakes his head at you and exits the command center. "Outside. Ten minutes."

The squad's ship touches down gently and you adjust your rifle on your shoulder slightly, sinking your weight into one hip. As much of a front as you put up for Argus, you really didn't mind this assignment. It was pretty cut and dry; serve as an escort for Squad 99 while they sniff around the western sector for a few weeks. It would give you a break from the frequent relief missions you were usually running. 

Scarif hadn't seen any true action from the war so far, but the effects still reached the outer rim. Argus was right, the steady trade that once flowed from the core worlds had weakened to a trickle and now many of Scarif's provinces were riddled with conflict over the little resources the planet had left. That meant you were more often out running supplies, assisting in makeshift medical camps, or dissolving scuffles than anything else. 

Your interest in this squad increases as you realize their ship is a heavily-modified Omicron-Class attack shuttle. The ramp lowers and four men stride down, coming to a stop in front of Argus. The man in front removes his helmet, revealing a mess of long dark hair pulled back by a bandana. He holds his hand out to Argus. "Commandant, I presume?" 

Argus takes the man's hand. "Yes sir. Welcome to Scarif." Your commander turns and waves his spare hand to you. "This is my First Lieutenant, and the one who will be hosting you on your mission." 

"Sir." The soldier acknowledges you with a curt nod. "I'm Sergeant Hunter, Galactic Army of the Republic." He looks to the man on his right, who removes his helmet to reveal striking silver hair. "This is Crosshair, our sharpshooting specialist and my right hand." 

The Sergeant turns to his left, "This is Tech, engineering and data analytics." The soldier with goggles barely glances up when his sergeant claps a hand to his shoulder. "And Wrecker, weapons and demolitions." Hunter finishes, jerking a thumb behind him to the soldier towering over his comrades. 

"Right. Well, good to meet you all. The command center is right this way" Argus says, turning to lead the group deeper into the yard. 

"So, Lieutenant. How are the military operations going here? The Prime Minister easy to work with?" Sergeant Hunter asks you in a husky voice. 

"Hm," You have to stifle a chuckle. "I wouldn't really call us a military, Sergeant. We operate as a Coalition dedicated to the service of Scarif's people. The Prime Minister has his own division of special forces for ‘keeping order.’ We work with him, not for him." 

The soldier in goggles, Tech, takes a few quick steps forward to get level with your shoulder. "You use military ranks, do you not?" 

Argus steps aside to let you lead the group into the Command Center. "Mainly for ease of identifying our hierarchy of command." 

You gesture for the soldiers to circle the main holotable. "Argus is our main point of coordination and connection to the Prime Minister-"

"And the Lieutenant here is my first pair of boots on the ground." Argus says proudly. "You boys are in good hands."

A fond smile crosses your face at Argus' praise as you flip the holotable on, but you could swear the silver-haired sniper muttered something under his breath. Straightening up, a red pin highlights the command yard. 

"Alright. We're here." You say, pointing before motioning for the map to rotate and zoom. "Western Sector 14, where you all have requested to scout, is here. The base camp will be a few hours’ ride."

"We can't just fly in?" Tech asks pointedly.

"If you want to jump out of the ship and drop in with chutes, sure.” you say, shaking your head. “The jungle is too dense to make a landing with anything bigger than a one-man fighter anywhere near where you want to be." 

Sergeant Hunter glances at his men. "Alright then. Thank you, Commandant." He says pointedly at Argus. "The first wave of supply ships will come in tomorrow." 

"Fantastic, thank you." Argus replies. He moves to lead the group out the door and back out into the yard, but falters when he notices the squad's sharpshooter, Crosshair, sizing you up. "Is there a problem?" Argus asks, tentatively.

The soldier smirks, swishing a toothpick between his lips. "I just don't want to have to pull a civvy out of danger. We were told this planet was hostile." 

Argus' brow furrows. "I already told you, the Lieutenant is my best agent, and you'll respect them as such-" 

"No, Argus, it's fine." You cut him off, keeping eye contact with Crosshair. "If the soldier doesn't trust me, he doesn't trust me and nothing you say will change that." You take a few steps around the table to stand in front of the sniper. "By definition, yes, the planet is hostile, but they're bandits, raiders; people that have been driven to desperation. I can assure you, soldier, I've had my fair share of run-ins with them and I'm just fine." A smirk spreads across Crosshair's face and you narrow your eyes. "What?" 

"You called me 'soldier,'" he responds. 

You tilt your head to the side. "That's not what you are? Soldiers of the Galactic Army of the Republic?" 

His comrade with the goggles, Tech steps forward. "Technically, you are correct, but not many refer to us as such." 

"Well, what do they call you?" You ask, curiously. 

Wrecker, the tallest soldier is the one who answers this time. "Eh... Most people just call us 'clone.'"

You run your eyes back over the squad, each of them so different from the others. "You're- you're clones?" 

"You know we're GAR, but you don't know what we are?" Crosshair remarks.

"I didn't want to assume, the GAR does have a few divisions of enlisted nat-borns." You say simply with a shrug. "It’s not like you’re carbon copies of each other. Besides, it doesn’t matter how you came into this galaxy, you’re men, soldiers first before anything else." 

With that, you step past the sniper and back out into the yard. 

"We're packed and ready to go, Sergeant,'' you say to Hunter, gesturing to the group of gorsets standing tied nearby. 

Tech adjusts his goggles. "We're using equine species?" 

You shrug again, moving over to yours and stroking its face. "Only the rich can afford speeders out here. Plus, who can say no to a friend. Get your stuff loaded on the spare cart and we can head out."

Hunter leads his brothers back over to their ship and before you know it, they have their supplies all packed up. 

Argus grasps your forearm just before you mount up. “Be careful, okay?” 

You give him a reassuring smile, “You worry too much, Argus. My job here is easy. I’ll see you in a few weeks.” 

With that you slip your foot into your saddle’s stirrup and throw your leg over your gorset’s back. With a click of your tongue, it moves to the front, Hunter’s following closely behind. 

The first part of the ride goes pretty smoothly. You make small talk with the soldiers, or three of them, at least. Hunter, Tech, and Wrecker regale you with stories of their life and training as soldiers of the Republic and in return, you tell them your story as a nat-born. 

About an hour in, you come to a stop at a stream and let your mounts rest. You watch intently as the four brothers, take in their surroundings. You’ve always liked Scarif. You’d certainly seen a few other planets in your line of work, but Scarif and its dense forests always meant home. Crosshair settles on a fallen log while Hunter checks over their gear on the carts and Wrecker begins making friends with the gorsets. Tech, however, is wandering around with his face buried in his datapad. 

“Find anything interesting?” You say, approaching him. 

He looks up at you, his wide inquisitive brown eyes filled with excitement. “All the flora on this planet is fascinating. So many native species are unique to this biome. Of course, I researched them before our arrival, but to get to document them personally is a wonderful opportunity.” 

You smile at his curiosity. The clones’ homeworld, Kamino, probably left much to be desired. “Those ones are my favorite,” you say, motioning your chin towards some striking burgundy-orange blooms nestled in the undergrowth. 

“Ah yes,” Tech remarks. “Liliaceae Lilium Asiata. A fairly ordinary species though, not that remarkable.” 

You smile. “Their common name here is the ‘forever lily’ and while they’re not a rare species, they are special.”

“What makes them so special?” Wrecker asks loudly. 

“Here on Scarif, they’re often given as a sign of admiration or partnership. They bloom in early summer and also represent new beginnings. My father actually gifted my mother one when he asked her to dinner for the first time.” 

“That’s…actually quite romantic,” Tech replies. 

“And obviously it went well,” Hunter adds. 

A laugh escapes your lips. “Oh no, the date apparently went horribly wrong. My father made a complete fool of himself and accidentally tripped, knocking my mother into the fountain in the center of the village. There were probably thirty witnesses to the whole thing. My father’s family never let him live it down. When he asked my mother for a second chance, he brought two lilies. For their third date, he brought three. By the time they got married, he decorated the entire gathering hall with them.”

Crosshair hops up off his perch. “So why are you out here and not with them picking flowers, sweetheart?” He jeers. 

You cock an eyebrow at him. “They’re dead.” 

Crosshair stiffens at your response, but doesn’t retort. His brothers look at you with wide eyes. 

“Bandit raid,” you say plainly. “I was seventeen. Took less than a day for our village to be cleared out. Those who tried to hide food or resist were laid out in the street. A number of us survived and we made our way to the capital for refuge. That’s where I met Argus, and he gave me a chance to do more with my life.” 

Silence settles among you, the brothers unsure of what to say. 

You clear your throat, breaking their stupor. “Ready to move out?”

“Uh, yeah. Let’s go.” Hunter says, jerking his head at his brothers.

As you swing your leg over and settle into your saddle, Hunter catches your eye. “The color. I like it.” 

A soft smile crosses your face. “Thanks. I do too.” 

Once again, you take the lead, but this time your group travels in silence. The next couple hours are uneventful. Occasionally, Tech or Wrecker would point something out and you’d give a few words on it. A couple times, Hunter called for the group to stop, and you reassured him whatever noise he heard was probably just a kybuck. ‘Bandits haven’t been spotted in this sector for years.’

As you round a bend in the trail, your mount slows out of instinct. You can hear Tech mutter under his breath when the old buildings make their appearance. 

“Fascinating… Did you know this was here?” he asks. 

You glance around at the familiar ruins of your past life. “This used to be my home.” 

You pull your mount to a halt outside the largest building. “And it will be our base camp for the duration of your stay here.” 

“Do you come back often?” Wrecker asks hesitantly.

“Mm-hmm,” you answer as you dismount. “Once every few moons. It’s quite peaceful out here.” 

Crosshair’s brow furrows. According to your story, you all are currently standing at the center of the greatest tragedy of your life. He’s drawn to ask about your response, but his twin beats him to it. 

“You said raiders destroyed your village, yet you continue to return. That’s very brave.”

You smile at Tech’s words, pulling your bags off your gorset. “I wouldn’t say brave. It took me a while to be able to come back, but look at this place,” you say, gesturing to the buildings overgrown with flora. “You can’t even see the scars of the raid any more. No people, no conflict, no pain. With a little bit of time, nature came back and healed, same as I did.”  

Your response hits Crosshair in a peculiar way, but if you had asked him to describe it, he wouldn’t have had the words. Instead, he moves over beside you and gently takes a few bags from your shoulders before moving inside. 

The next few weeks pass with little fuss. The boys tend to leave at 0700 to go about their scouting missions and return around 1800 for dinner. Every few days, you’ll go along to lead them to a new part of the sector or provide information on the area. Most days you’re left to your own devices. You spent your first few free days setting a trap line along you r well-known foraging routes. Hunter had protested your hunting and gathering. He tried to explain they had brought enough GAR rations for everyone, but you were happy enough to prepare warm meals for the team. 

It didn’t take them long to crumble to your mouth-watering camp cooking, leaving the rations to be quick dinner solutions after long days. Hunter offered his talents once or twice to help you get a nice score, or Wrecker would help haul firewood back to camp. Tech even provided you with some new recipes you fused with Scarif-style dishes. 

Hunter took quickly to you, as did Tech and Wrecker, but the fourth member of the team always kept his distance. Any words exchanged between the two of you were more often than not snarky comments. Hunter would chastise him for it, tell him to stow the attitude, but you knew Crosshair didn’t mean it. And it’s not like you didn’t dish it back.

On this particular day, you were on your own. Crosshair had been particularly grouchy the last couple rotations, so Hunter had benched him for the day. Crosshair’s excuse had been a migraine, so you left him sleeping at base camp with a blanket gently draped over him and a canteen of water within reach when you started out on your own hike. 

It doesn’t take long to reach your shooting range. Your sniper’s roost is up on the crest of a hill that looks over a small hollow. Wooden targets are scattered from the undergrowth up into the branches of the dense forest around you. 

After taking a few practice shots in a crouched position, you lower yourself down onto your stomach. Just as you shift your weight onto your side to pull an extra mag out of your belt pocket, something catches your ear. A twig snapping, and it was from something much bigger than a kybuck. 

You freeze, waiting. After a couple seconds, you start creeping your hand down your thigh and gently grasp one of the throwing knives strapped there. The wind changes and something hits your nose, a scent - the camp soap. Smirking, you roll back onto your stomach like normal, keeping the knife tucked underneath you. You act like you're checking over your rifle, still intently listening. A couple seconds more and another twig snaps. Fast as lightning you roll over and send the knife flying. It buries itself into a tree - right next to his head. 

“Are you karking crazy?!” 

You sit up, a cheeky smile on your face. “That’s what you get, trying to sneak up on me, soldier.” 

He rolls his eyes. “You did pretty good, sweetheart, but Hunter would’ve noticed sooner.” 

“Hunter has been engineered with enhanced senses, that’s cheating,” you say, standing up and brushing the dirt off yourself. “Good to see you’re feeling better.”

Crosshair rolls his eyes. “I would’ve noticed sooner.” 

You smirk. “You are also enhanced, that’s still cheating. When do you think I noticed?” 

“Right before you threw the knife, when I snapped that twig on purpose,” he says, crossing his arms. “They’re stashed in your chestplate, you acted on instinct.”

“Wrong. I heard you when you stepped on that first twig, but I knew it was you when I smelled the camp soap. Very distinct,” you say with a wink. 

Crosshair gives you a look, maybe one of awe, but he glosses over the moment, looking out onto the shooting range. “What is this place?” 

“A shooting range. Never seen one of those, Crosshair?” You tease back, bending down to pick up your rifle.. 

He scoffs. 

“My father built it and taught me to shoot here,” you explain. “Part of the reason why I come back every so often. Here the rest of the world just melts away.” 

Crosshair steps closer to the crest of the hill. “Where are the targets?” 

Gently, you heft your rifle up off the ground and hold it out to him. “Have a look.” 

He hesitates. “Oh no, I-” Crosshair knows a sniper’s rifle is sacred. In the similar way as the Jedi and their lightsabers. 

“It’s okay,” you reassure him. “I trust you.”

Crosshair’s eyes stay latched to yours as he gingerly lets you place your rifle in his waiting hands. “Not as fancy as your firepuncher, but I've made a few modifications,” you say proudly. 

Crosshair turns your weapon over in his hands with a sense of reverence before taking his stance. His form is perfect, though that’s no surprise. Hunter and the others had told you all about their enhancements. You watch as Crosshair sweeps the scope over the range, taking inventory of the targets camouflaged in the greenery. One particular mark catches his eye. 

“That one down there, how do you get to it?” He asks, pointing to one suspended in a tree and swaying gently in the wind.

You smile, that target in particular is placed at an odd angle relative to the sniper’s nest. “Take the shot and you’ll see.” 

The sniper braces in his standing position and lets a blaster bolt fly. He nearly growls in frustration when the bolt barely hits the edge of the target. “What the-”

“Good shot,” you say, impressed. 

“That’s not the center.” Crosshair sneers, lowering your rifle.

“You still hit it. I don’t think anyone else could have made it at that angle,” you reply. 

“You show me then if you’re so good, sweetheart.” 

Paying no mind to his snappy remark, you take your weapon back from him and lower into your crouched position. You center your sights on the target in question and wait a moment for it to stop bouncing as much. Once you’ve got its steady bouncing rhythm down, you move to focus on a shiny chunk of quartz sticking out of the hillside. Deep breath in. Deep breath out.

Your shot flies perfectly, hitting the quartz and ricochetting up into the dead center of the target. You look up at the Crosshair, making no effort to try to hide the smug look on your face. 

“Tricky girl,” he says, his eyes narrowing. 

“Got to consider all the angles,” you tease as you straighten back up. 

Crosshair reaches to his belt and holds up a couple shiny discs. “I prefer these.” 

“Smart,” you respond, shifting your weight into one hip. “And yet you still took the straight-on approach.” 

He smirks at you as you stand up. “Thought it’d be best to be direct with you.” 

“Oh yeah, what about?” 

“I don’t get you,” he says plainly. 

Your brow scrunches as you lean your rifle against a nearby tree. “What’s there to get?”

“Everything about you.” He shakes his head and runs his fingers through his silver hair. “I saw you when those scavengers came up on us scouting last week. You stared down the barrel of their weapons and tried to negotiate our way out. Then when they turned, you didn’t even flinch. You’re a good hunter, you’ve been feeding us this entire trip; yet you cleaned the wound on that kybuck’s flank and let it go instead of taking the easy score. Even with me, I- I can’t figure you out, nothing gets to you.” 

It takes you a second to realize that’s the most words Crosshair has ever spoken to you, and they didn’t even come with a childish jab. You just shrug. “I learned it's best to make the most you can with what you’ve got. I try to give everyone a chance, no matter how we meet and I don’t take more than what I need. I don’t have time to let things get to me; there are much more important, more worthwhile things to be taken care of. And if I can’t let something go, I bring it here,” you finish, glancing out at your shooting range. 

Crosshair looks you up and down a couple times, then turns his back to you to face the range. Then he speaks, so softly you barely catch it, “Do you mind if I let some things go here?” 

A soft smile crosses your face. “Of course. Here.” You reach back over and hold your rifle out to him, which he takes without looking at you. 

You can see his muscles shift as he lowers himself to the ground. Not wanting to intrude, you take a few steps back up the trail. 

“Where are you going?” 

“Oh, uh I was just going to go get some water from the stream, check my snares,” you respond, covering your true intentions. 

“You won’t have your rifle,” Crosshair mutters. 

“I have my side arm, I’ll be fine,” you reassure him. 

A soft sigh drifts from his figure laying on the forest floor. “Please… stay. I can check the snares with you later.” 

You try to hide your smile as you gently lower yourself to the ground, resting your back against a tree as Crosshair brings the scope of your rifle into position. And there you stay. 

At first, Crosshair doesn’t say much. He just takes his shots at your range, adjusting things here and there. After a while, you lean your head against the tree trunk behind you and let your eyes close. The sun is filtering through the trees as it rises higher in the sky, and birds are softly chirping. It’s peaceful, like always, and the rhythmic pattern of Crosshair’s shots roll through the forest like a heartbeat. 

You don’t know how much time has passed when you hear him shift.

“Here.”

Straightening up, you open your eyes and see he’s sitting cross legged, holding your rifle out. 

You take it back from him and move to stand up. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asks, still sitting on the ground. 

You tilt your head at him, for him saying he couldn’t figure you out, he seems to be the odd one. “The snares?”

“It’s your turn to shoot.” 

“Oh it’s fine,” you say, waving your hand.

You shift your weight again to stand, but this time Crosshair reaches out and grasps your bracer. “That’s what you were coming out here to do anyway, right? I interrupted you.” 

His words are so different from the ones that normally pass between the two of you. Not gentle, necessarily, but less defensive. You take a breath before nodding your head, just barely. Crosshair scoots out of your way. If you weren’t so focused on making the space between you a place where he could be open, you might have giggled at the way he moved, still in his cross-legged position. 

You slowly lower yourself onto your belly and bring your scope to your eye. Crosshair had adjusted things slightly, but strangely you didn’t mind. Usually it would irk you if someone had moved things on your rifle, but you had handed him your weapon of your own volition. It was nice to know that he felt so comfortable with you and had handled your rifle with such care and reverence. You take a few shots, aiming at various targets over the range. 

As you sit up to replace the mag, you notice Crosshair is studying you intently. You smile. “What?” 

The corner of his mouth twitches. “You’re a skilled sharpshooter. You even pace with your breath, impressive.” 

You rock back on your heels. “Took me some time to get it, but practice makes perfect.” 

Crosshair smirks at you, but not unkindly. “And that you are, nearly. Perfect- I mean…” He trails off. Again, You might have giggled at this newfound temperament, but you simply dust off your rifle a bit. 

“Oh yeah? Got any pointers for me?” you reply. 

The sniper moves closer to you. “If you’ll actually listen,” he jabs.

You chuckle. “I’m always listening.”

He gestures for you to take your prone position again and makes a few adjustments to your limbs. The time flies away from you as the two of you pass your rifle back and forth along with small conversation and stories. Crosshair doesn’t exactly soften, but he does open up to you a bit more. 

In giving you some pointers, he’s the most comfortable you’ve seen him the whole mission. Instruction and leadership are clearly his elements. You’re surprised at how attentive he is, continuously checking in that the adjustments he makes feel correct for your body. 

‘Every marksman is different.’ He had said. ‘Even if it’s the ‘correct’ way, if it doesn’t feel natural for you, then you’ll be tense or unstable and then it’s all pointless.’

You learn more than just that. Before you know it, Crosshair is telling you about his brothers, more than even Tech had told you. ‘Hunter’s helmet is specially modified to dampen his senses when needed.’ - ‘Although Tech is the smartest at basically everything, Wrecker beats him with weapons and explosives.’ - ‘Tech and I came from the same tube.’ - ‘Wrecker can tell you every ingredient in a ration pack just by tasting it.’

Some facts surprise you, like the fact that while Hunter has enhanced eyesight across the whole spectrum, Crosshair is actually farsighted and he has his holopad on the biggest text size to avoid wearing the reading glasses Tech made him. Other facts aren’t as much of a surprise, like the scar on Hunter’s chin was a gift from Crosshair when they were roughhousing as cadets. 

Crosshair even tells you what it was like growing up as ‘special’ clones on Kamino. ‘Clones are outsiders among the nat-borns of the galaxy. We were outsiders even among the clones.’ - ‘The advanced growth rate meant that for a few years from bio age 7-18 our joints always hurt. The bumps and bruises from training just blended it all together.’

You had no idea Crosshair could be so much of a talker, and he even chuckles a few times at his own stories or your side remarks. The conversation was far from annoying, though. You sat and listened intently, basking in his sudden willingness to share. Without warning, your chrono beeps, cutting one of his sentences short. You glance down and gasp at the time. 

“Everything okay?” Crosshair asks, his brow furrowing.

“We’ve been here all day.” You say. “We have to hurry if we’re going to walk the traps and get back to camp to meet the others.” 

Crosshair shoots to his feet, his jaw tense. 

Guilt settles in your stomach. “I’m sorry.” You look up at him, but he refuses to meet your eyes. “I was enjoying it here, but-”

“We have to go.” He says in a gruff voice. The walls are back up.

You solemnly gather your gear and the two of you walk your snare lines in silence. You’re tempted to respark the conversation you two had been sharing, but you can tell the moment is lost, and pushing would be futile. 

When you arrive back at base camp, the others are already milling about preparing the dinner rations. Hunter glances between you and Crosshair as you enter the camp, but says nothing. Not even when he notices Crosshair is the one carrying the score from your traps. 

Dinner is served as normal, but Crosshair takes his into the building serving as your bunk house rather than eating around the fire with the rest of you. You try to keep that sinking feeling out of your stomach to no avail. Had you pushed him? He was opening up to you, being receptive. Why did your chrono have to bring you crashing back to reality?

Your thoughts continue to swirl in your head as you wash up after dinner and you barely notice when Hunter appears beside you at the basin. 

“You okay?” He mutters, picking up a dish and swirling it in the water. 

“Mm, yeah,” you mutter. 

A chuckle rumbles deep in Hunter’s chest. “I saw you two today.” 

You can feel the Sergeant’s implication pressing in on you. “Oh yeah, he just got bored and wanted something to do.” 

Hunter shakes his head. “No, that’s not it. He likes you.” 

“He has a funny way of showing it,” you jab back, shoving the memory of your day at the range deep into the back of your mind. 

“He’s just...” Hunter sighs. “Figuring it out on his own terms. He takes patience. You’ve been doing well so far, just hold out a little longer and he’ll open up to you.” 

‘He was…’ You think to yourself. Instead you finish wiping the last dish and flick the water off your hands. “Well I don’t have forever,” you say shortly, turning to walk into the bunks. 

Grumbling nonsense to yourself, you turn the corner to your room and your breath catches in your throat. On your bed lies a single item. 

A bright orange and maroon lily.

After that day at your shooting range, little changes in your interactions with Crosshair. His snarky comments return, but his demeanor towards you does begin to shift. His morning jab was now accompanied by a cup of caf complete with a splash of milk, just the way you liked it. His hand was now the first to reach out when unloading gear to lighten your load, though it still came with some iteration of a sly ‘sweetheart’. There was even a time you had fallen asleep by the campfire and you woke with a blanket draped over you. Hunter swore up and down that Crosshair had been the last one to bed that night.

With two weeks left in the squad’s mission, you make your way to the range alone, lost in thought. At 0400, your comm had beeped with a message from Argus: you would be immediately moving on to your next assignment upon your return to the Coalition Command Base. A scuffle on Scarif’s opposite pole needed your attention, and reportedly the territory was still severely hostile. 

Though you didn’t want to admit it, your time hosting Squad 99 had been little short of a vacation. Just last night, Hunter had pulled you aside and offered you a spot on the team as a ‘Civilian Consultant.’ 

‘Even though we’re supposed to be a clone squad, it’s a way of skirting the rules.’ He had said with a wink. ‘It wouldn’t pay much, but you’d be taken care of.’

You had told him you’d think about it, but you couldn’t imagine leaving Scarif. Your people need you. As your thoughts tumble in your head, you nearly step on something as you break the treeline into your sniper’s nest. Not something - someone.

“You’re very observant today,” Crosshair groans as he stands up. 

“Sorry,” you say, shaking your head trying to clear it. 

Crosshair looks down at you, his brow furrowed. “Hey,” he says, his voice soft. “What is it?”

The moment your eyes meet his, the words start tumbling from your mouth. You tell him everything. The comm from Argus that arrived before the boys rose that morning. The stress that’s been on your shoulders as the First Lieutenant of the Coalition. 

You tell him about the pit in your stomach that grows every time you see a starving child, or a family ripped apart by raiders. Even about the pity you feel for the dying light in the eyes of bandits you arrest. How your homeworld was dying and there was little you could do about it. 

You find yourself telling him about Hunter’s offer, and your temptation to take it. How the allure of staying with the squad you’d grown fond of was near irresistible, but the guilt at your eagerness to leave your homeworld behind was clawing at your chest. 

Before you know it your breath is rising in your throat, your pulse quickening, your head beginning to spin, when suddenly your world becomes dark. It takes you a second to realize that you didn’t pass out, but your face is pressed to something… warm. Something solid and stable. 

The scent of the camp soap surrounds you as Crosshair presses you to his chest, one arm curling around you, the other cradling the back of your head. Your breathing begins to steady and your heartbeat slows to match the steady beating of his heart under your cheek. 

After a while you find it in yourself to mutter “Cross-”

“Shh.” He cuts you off, ruffling your hair slightly. “Don’t speak, just breathe for a second.” 

Another couple minutes like that and you feel your body begin to relax. Crosshair releases you from his grip and you feel your weight on your own two feet again. Again you try to speak. “I’m so-”

“Don’t say you’re sorry.” He cuts you off again. “You have a lot going on and a lot to think about. Let the rest of the galaxy melt away for a bit. That’s why you’re here, right?” He says with a smirk. 

You let out a breath. “I suppose.” Then you realize. “Hey, speaking of - what are you doing here?”

Crosshair rubs the back of his neck. “Ehh. Needed some time to think?” 

“You don’t sound so sure.”

He just shrugs. “I’ve never been… good with talking.” 

You smile but take a step back from him. “You don’t have to be. We don’t have to talk at all.” You say, your words gentle.

Crosshair’s deep honey eyes look down at you. “The thing is… I want to. I just don’t…” He sighs, then leans over to pull something from his pack laying nearby. “Here.”

You look down at what he’s trying to hand you. It’s two maroon and orange lilies. Their bright colors stand out against his dark gear. You take them from him, delicately and look back up. His eyes are searching your face for any sign of caution. 

His shoulders relax with relief when you take one of the flowers and tuck it behind your ear. “How’s the practice going?” you ask with a smile.

Crosshair’s face brightens a bit at the mention of sharpshooting. “Good. I was hoping you would be here today. I wanted to show you something new.” 

Gingerly, he takes one of your hands in his and eases your rifle off your shoulder. Rather than handing you your weapon, however, he leans it up against a nearby tree. 

“Cross, what-”

“Shh” He hushes you gently, taking the second lily from your other hand and dropping the stem into the barrel of your rifle. He guides you over to the sniper’s ridge and picks his own weapon up off the ground. “Here.”

Your eyes widen when you realize what his intentions are. He’s giving you his firepuncher.

Ever so carefully, you let him release his prized rifle into your grip. “Hmm,” you hum as your hands dip with its weight. “I assumed it would be heavy but… wow.”

“Start on the ground, then we’ll work you up to standing.” Crosshair says, his voice steady. “Adjust the scope how you need it.”

You get settled and with him crouched beside you, you bring the scope up to your view. The sounds of the forest start to melt away as you zone in on a target. 

A little puff of air hits your ear as Crosshair leans close. "Be prepared for the recoil," he mutters in a low voice. "It’s strong, but don’t fight it. Whenever you’re ready."

Deep breath in. Deep breath out.

The blaster bolt is nearly silent as it flies home to the center of the target. 

There your day melts away again as you and Crosshair pass a weapon back and forth. Fewer words accompany his rifle, but it feels as though more is said. 

The last two weeks of Squad 99’s mission pass uneventfully, but there is another shift. There’s a shift in how Crosshair treats you. After your first day at the range, he had warmed more to you, but now he’s like a tooka always at your heels. He’s not overbearing, just always present. 

You’re catching yourself smiling at his little quirks more and more. The way he can fall asleep almost anywhere, curled up in a tight ball. The way he claims he drinks his caf black, but you spot him sneaking sugar into it out of the corner of your eye. The way he’s always watching, even if his back is to you. 

He also seems more physically drawn to you. Of course, he never crosses a line, but in subtle ways. He tends to brush against you more when moving about your daily routines. His hands seem to linger on your body when adjusting your sniping form, and you could feel the heat of his palm on your lower back when he steadied you after you stumbled on a trail. His voice seems to drop and soften when he speaks to you, he nearly sounds like Hunter - it’s definitely genetic. 

Of course Hunter noticed too. After your second day with Crosshair at the shooting range, Hunter had pulled you aside again. You expected an ‘older brother talking to’ where he either would grill you about your intentions or warn you to stay away, but the first words out of Hunter’s mouth had shocked you. 

“You’re good for him, you know.”

“I beg your pardon?” You had instinctively said back.

Hunter placed his hand on your shoulder, you knew it was a gesture of his affection. “You’re good for him. With you, he can just exist.” 

“You’re imagining things, Hunter.” 

“I promise you I’m not. I know he can be difficult, but it’s not because he’s apathetic. It’s just a challenge for him to put words to what’s going on in that head of his.” 

“There are more ways to understand someone than with words.”

Hunter laughed at your remark. “Like I said, you’re a good match for him. In more ways than one.”

Hunter left the conversation at that. He didn’t push, but he would tease you under his breath about it. You hated to admit it, but Hunter was right, you had grown soft on the sniper and you would come to see the effect you had on him. His shoulders were less tense, his brow furrowed less, he turned his face to the sun more. Maybe there was something growing between you and him, maybe it was something worth exploring.

‘Karking Siths Hells. Collect yourself, woman.’ You scold yourself. You shake your head to clear your thoughts as your gorset moves around a group of trees. 

Here you are. The day had finally come for Clone Force 99 to ship back out. You didn’t want to admit it but it was hitting you harder than you thought it would. You were trying to keep that armor up, but you were sadly failing. 

When you reach the Coalition’s Command Base, the brothers immediately start moving their things back to their ship. Sadly, Argus had been called to the Capital so he wasn’t there to welcome you back. As you helped the brothers repack, each made sure to say their goodbyes.

Tech held his hand out, and you moved to return the handshake. Instead you found him grasping your forearm in a much more meaningful gesture. “It’s a physical form of farewell from our mother culture of Mandalore. It’s a symbol of respect and honor. You have been a wonderful host, and I will miss your company. You do not know how much it means that you not only answered my questions but returned them with some of your own.” 

Wrecker was next. Your hands seemed to dance in the intricate handshake you two had created. “I’ll miss having ya around!” He boomed. “I think you ruined the ration packs for me forever with your camp cooking. And Lieutenant? Thank you, for seeing us as more than clones, it’s been refreshing.”

Hunter pulled you into a tight hug like many times before. “I know I don’t need to say it, but take care of yourself. Keep in touch, I need someone to chat with that hasn’t thrown up on me.” 

This made you laugh for the first time today. “That could be arranged,” you tease back.

Before Hunter replies he looks at something behind you. Turning around you see it’s Crosshair walking towards you. You meet him halfway, searching his face for any sign of what mood he’s in. 

“Where did you disappear off to?” You ask trying to ease into a goodbye.

“Nowhere important.” He curtly replies, shoving his helmet on his head.

You bite your lip. “Okay… Best of luck, Crosshair. Stay safe out there.” 

“You too.” He holds his hand out, but unlike Tech he just gives you a simple, firm handshake. Only he doesn’t let go. 

You want to say something, but what would be the right thing? The two of you always seemed to communicate through actions more than words. There you two stand for a moment, awkwardly holding your handshake, and your eyes drift for a moment. 

When you look back at Crosshair he’s moving. Before you can register what’s happening his helmet is smacking you on the forehead, causing you to cry out and clap a hand to the sore spot.

Did he just headbutt you? Or was he trying to kiss you and forgot his helmet was on?

He lets go of your hand like he was shocked, standing straight as a pole. “I uh… I’ve got to go. Keep practicing, stay alive.”

Without another word he walks, more like runs, away from you and up the Marauder’s ramp. 

Hunter appears at your side obviously trying to contain his laughter. “That was interesting.”

“What exactly just happened?” You grumble, rubbing your forehead. 

“A very Crosshair farewell.” Hunter sighs. “Look, I know that we aren’t exactly built for relationships or even plain friendships outside of the GAR, but… don’t be a stranger. We’ve all come to like you and Crosshair, he won’t say it anytime soon, but he needs you.” 

Hunter squeezes your shoulder and jogs up the Marauder’s ramp, leaving you standing alone in the ship yard. 

Sighing and shaking your head, you turn and walk to the Command Center to gather the intel for your new deployment. After sitting through a painfully redundant briefing meeting with a couple squadron leaders with sticks up their asses, you stop by the cantina for dinner. The food weighs heavy on your tongue like glue. It doesn’t taste nearly as good as beans and rice Scarif stir fry around a campfire with a choice four troopers. 

The supply depot is your next stop to restock your personal supplies and check that your shuttle was loaded correctly. You still have a half hour before your crew is due for deployment, so you head over to the base stables to see a friend. 

Your gorset has his nose on the ground of his stall, snuffling around for remnants of his evening grain, but he raises his head at the sound of your footsteps. 

“Hey there, boy.” You coo softly at him. “What are we gonna do, huh?”

As you scratch behind his ear, your gorset turns his head for you to get to the other side and a gasp leaves your lips when you see his mane. 

Woven into your gorset’s thick locks are three bright orange lilies.

Your back aches as you make the hike from the ruins to your range. Your last assignment had been far from comfortable. The relief mission was supposed to be non combative, just transport of supplies and giving aid to the rebuilding effort in Northern Sector 7, but of course you weren’t that lucky. A band of storms blew through while you were there, sending refugees into the town you were based in. 

Your forces were already spread thin and the influx of people hadn’t helped. Then of course the raiders came. You were able to deescalate the situation the first time they showed up, but the second time they stormed the town with ballistics. The stockpile was pretty depleted at that point so at the very least the Coalition didn’t lose much. 

Argus had taken pity on you and said you had a week before he’d even think about shipping you out again, so you decided to go home for a few days. You hadn’t been back in months, much longer than usual, not since them.

The peaceful ruins of your village had felt emptier that morning when you’d arrived. You half-expected Wrecker to come barreling through the brush asking about dinner, or for Tech to appear beside you with some obscure question about your home world. 

You had to admit you did miss Hunter, he had his way of knowing what was going on with you without even asking. Though the temptation was there to take his offer and join the squad, you just couldn’t leave Scarif and her people. Hunter didn’t blame you though, he knew the pressure you were under as the Coalition’s First Lieutenant. Who would’ve done the job if you left?

You had exchanged comm frequencies with Hunter, but hadn’t heard anything from them, about anything. Not that you were expecting to. The fourth member of Squad 99 lingered on your mind more than the others, but it’s not like you were pining after him. 

Crosshair had made you no promises, nor had you him. You just wondered where he was, what his missions were. You wondered if he was okay, not just physically, but under the armor he put up around himself. 

The sun is already high in the sky when you reach your range. You take a couple minutes to go over your rifle, then take your standing position.

Your sore muscles shift as you bring your rifle up to your view and set the barrel on the rest you added to your shoulder plate. You sweep the range, checking the status of your targets, but stutter when you notice something nestled in the foliage.

 A bright orange lily.

Shaking your head, you keep sweeping the range, then you spot another lily. Then another, and another. Your mouth drops open as you lower your weapon. It couldn't be, could it?

The undergrowth behind you rustles and you know it’s him before he speaks. "Good to see you're practicing. We need you again. I need you again."

[yesihaveaobsession]

One on One

Alastor x hunter(ess) reader

Summary: You and Alastor Spar :D

You were a very well-known hunter on Earth; your defense is what made you well-known. But apparently, you weren't so smart and went on a Werewolf hunt by yourself. You honestly thought it wouldn't be that bad, but the gash on your side said otherwise. Left alone to die, that's how you ended up in hell. From your time spent in hell, you heard of the Hazbin Hotel and the message it was trying to convey, and frankly, you believed in it. So, you stayed and became close friends with the fellow Sinners.

One more important figure was Alastor, The Radio Demon. He adored your fighting style and liked the idea that you were sweet but could tear a poor sinner's body in half with a blink of an eye. You had told him what you were on Earth, but since he died in the thirties, he had no idea that there were people who actually hunted demons and other beings like himself. However, he didn't fear you; no, he found it quite interesting, hence being close with him.

You two always teased each other, and you always flirted, but surprisingly he didn't seem to care. Usually, he would, but he knew you didn't really mean it, and he knew it was all a part of the teasing. You teased him about his fighting style, and just to get under your skin, he did the same, even though he adored it.

But on this day specifically, he wanted to put your fighting skills to the test, to see what your weaknesses were and what you were good at. You heard from the grapevine (Charlie) that Alastor wanted to see you. You were sent to his room, and he stood there with his usual smile. The fireplace was lit, making the room dim.

"Ah, splendid of you to join me, my dear," Alastor greeted with a head tilt. You saw something in his eyes that told you the deer demon was up to something, and you also knew he wasn't going to tell you. Alastor stepped forward to meet you in the center of the room. "Today, we shall focus on agility and precision. But before we delve into the specifics, let's warm up a bit, shall we?"

You snorted, "You're going to spar in that?" gesturing to his suit. He let out a laugh. Alastor then showed various techniques and maneuvers. His movements were lightning-fast yet precise, showcasing his mastery of combat. You easily blocked and dodged his attacks with such ease.

"Now, my dear, it's your turn," Alastor said, gesturing to you. You then threw some punches and kicks in which he too easily dodged and blocked. Once you had enough because you could barely get in any hits, you managed to kneel down and flip him over your shoulder; luckily there was a mat there in which he landed with a grunt. You shot him a triumphantly smile which soon ended when he swept your leg, sending you flying to the ground onto the mat.

You managed to roll backward and land right back onto your knee, which was a lot easier for you to regain your composure. The atmosphere in the room became charged with energy. The sound of fists meeting fists and feet hitting the mat filled the air as the two of you sparred, each exchange pushing you to your limits.

"Come on now, dear, you have to do better than that."

Alastor then left you no room to defend yourself, so you took him by surprise when you swept his leg and managed to get on top of him and pin him down, smiling proudly.

"Bet that, deer man," you smirked. Alastor's and your faces were mere inches apart; you pressed your advantage, pinning him to the ground. Your charade came to an end before you could revel in your victory; Alastor swiftly flipped your positions, effortlessly trapping you beneath him.

"BITCH!" you shouted.

"Now, now, let's not get ahead of ourselves, shall we?" he purred, a devilish glint in his crimson eyes.

Now Alastor has noticed that you seem to use your surroundings when it came to fighting; there's a candle near you, you're using it. A stick, you're using it. But since this was all hands and legs, he's found your weakness. He watched you struggle to get him off you; he was much taller than you, his body practically covered yours as he hovered over you. But after a short while, you knocked his arm to his elbow and swept your leg to make more legroom for you to squeeze your body through, making it easier for you to bump him and get on top of him again.

You pinned his arms above his head, trying to catch your breath after all the effort you had just put in to get to that spot.

"Not bad, dear, not bad."

[kybercrystals94]

Focus Up

Read here on Ao3!

Angspril 2024 | Day 15 | Prompt 15: Confrontation

Rated: G | Words: 816 | Summary: A training exercise doesn't end the way the siblings expected. | Character Focus: Omega, Hunter, Echo

Slight content warning...someone gets a bloody nose.

“Focus up, Omega!” Echo calls from the sidelines when Omega’s gaze drifts again to the sparkling white beach and frothing surf. 

Omega turns her head to look at Echo and misses Hunter’s quick sweeping motion that knocks her legs out from under her, sending her sprawling forward across the soft, silty ground. Pushing herself up, Omega spits out a mouthful of grit. “That isn’t fair,” she growls, “Echo distracted me.” 

“You distracted yourself,” Hunter chides gently. “Do you think your enemies will wait for you to be focused before they strike?” 

“No,” Omega huffs, rolling over into a sitting position. “But why do we have to train today? I’ve never been on a beach before, and Wrecker promised he’d show me how to build sandcastles.” 

Hunter smiles at her and holds out a hand. “There’ll be time for fun after training. C’mon, let’s go again.” 

Omega takes his hand and Hunter hauls her up to her feet.

“Get in position,” Hunter says.

Halfheartedly, Omega changes her stance. Hunter adjusts her left elbow and right shoulder, and lightly kicks the heel of her boot to make her bring her foot up. “Good. Now bend your knees a little more, keep your center of gravity low.” 

“Will my enemies wait for me to get into position?” Omega snarks irritably. 

Omega is slightly annoyed when Hunter chooses endless patience instead of reacting. “With enough practice, getting into position will be second nature.” 

Once her brother is satisfied with her posture, he stands in front of her, slipping into his own familiar placement. “Start!” 

Omega is a flurry of frustrated movement, going through the maneuvers she’s been taught while Hunter easily blocks each strike. With a surge of adrenaline, Omega decides to try something different, wanting to catch Hunter off guard. She goes for an uppercut, which Hunter starts to block; however, she aborts the movement just before making contact and dives for his knees. Hunter isn’t ready for the sudden attack, and is nearly toppled; however, he moves to recover his balance. As he disentangles himself from Omega’s grip, his knee comes up and catches her hard in the nose. 

Omega lets out an involuntary yelp of pain, her vision going black for a moment as her body registers the blow. Falling back, she cups her hands over her nose, already leaking blood. She isn’t crying, but tears run down her face and blur the image of Hunter kneeling in front of her. 

“Move your hands, let me see,” his voice is saying over the roaring in her ears. She gives a tiny shake of her head, but Hunter gets more insistent. “I need to check if it’s broken, Omega.”

 Gingerly, Omega lowers her hands, being careful not to touch them against her clothes. Not that it matters with blood dribbling down her chin and neck. 

Hunter inspects the damage, gently prodding the cartilage. “Doesn’t seem to be broken. That’s good. Here, lean forward a bit and pinch here.” He guides one of her hands up to do as he says. “Echo’s getting a cold pack.”

Omega groans, closing her eyes as tears continue to escape without her permission. “I’m not crying,” she tells him, her voice sounding funny with her nose plugged. 

“I know you’re not,” Hunter soothes, patting her shoulder. 

“That’s one way to get out of training for the day,” Echo’s voice says beside her. 

Something soft and chilled presses lightly against the bridge of her nose. Omega hisses in surprise. “I didn’t do this on purpose!” she protests weakly. 

“We know, kid,” Hunter says. “And good job. You almost got me there.”

Echo chuckles. “Getting an injury during training is like a right of passage.”

“Yeah, sorry about that, Omega,” Hunter mumbles. 

Omega grins behind her hands, peeking one eye open to look at Hunter. “But I almost knocked you down? Really?” 

“You should’ve seen his face,” Echo says. “If I had taken a holo, we would’ve gotten a good laugh out of that for years to come. I guess we’ll just have to settle for describing it in great detail to Wrecker and Tech later.” 

Hunter frowns over Omega’s shoulder where Echo is situated. Omega giggles, the pain and tears of her injury nearly forgotten. 

<<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>>

Omega adjusts Eva’s left elbow and right shoulder. She nudges Eva’s heel to prompt her to shift forward. “There,” Omega whispers. “Keep your knees bent. Good.” 

“This will help us to fight?” Eva whispers. 

Omega can’t train these children as her brothers trained her. She can’t teach them to throw a punch, or hold a blaster, or how to avoid detection. However, she can give them a foundation, as small as it might be. She can teach them to slip into position until it’s second nature, until her brothers find them and rescue them. 

Smiling grimly, Omega puts a reassuring hand on little Eva’s shoulder. “It’s a start.”

END

@the-little-moment and @just-here-with-my-thoughts 😱 This is the halfway mark??? YAY! Go team!! 15 more angsty prompts to go 😇

(Make sure to check out all of our stories this month for ultimate heartbreak!)

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[reborrowing]

this silly vampire idea kept rolling around my head so that's how I chose to spend my free time tonight. it's not really edited or polished, to the point where idk that I'd even call it finished, but here it is anyway. will I develop it more or will this get it out of my system? who knows.

I was very fuzzy, very suddenly.

No, not me. Or, I was, but...that was normal, I think, it was... My thoughts. My thoughts were fuzzy. Indistinct. I couldn't think straight, I wasn't—where was I?

I'd been flying. I didn't want to spend any more time on the ground in this wretched city than They required of me, I remembered that well enough.

They?

I was they, wasn't I? A swarm of me, of bats, or...

What city?

It was dark, even darker than I liked, and a frigid mist hung overhead. I went to push to my feet but not of my limbs would cooperate. My chest burned.

Why did it hurt? Had I been attacked? Were there hunters in this mystery city? Was I dying?

My heart raced, whatever the cause. But before I could solve any of my worries, the light disappeared and something went to smother me.

~

I really would do anything to put off writing that report.

Not that I was doing this to procrastinate, of course, I was being a good person. I'd been out for a late-night walk (not procrastinating—I needed that candy as a focus incentive) and found a bat crawling across the cold pavement about a block from my apartment. Even without getting too close, I could tell it was pretty badly injured. Its left wing was crumpled and out of sync with the rest of its movements.

What kind of asshole would I be if I left it there like that?

A dozen warnings about rabies echoed in my head, but none quite loud enough to give me more than a moment's pause. I used my hoodie to catch it. It didn't seem to struggle much and once I got it wrapped up, it gave up completely. I wanted to think that it knew I was trying to help it. Mostly I hoped it hadn’t died in my hands before I even had a chance to call the wildlife center.

I dumped a scattering of clutter out of a closet shoebox, swearing to myself that I’d deal with the mess later, and gently placed the bundled-up bat inside. I tentatively pulled back one edge of my sweatshirt to steal a look at the little guy. It was breathing, at least, if not conscious.

The wildlife center told me I’d (more or less) done the right thing so far, and told me to drive it down there as soon as I had the chance. I turned off the car radio for quiet as suggested, but couldn’t help whispering reassurances to the little guy as I drove. I guess it wouldn’t understand me, even if it were awake to hear me, but the silence in the car unnerved me otherwise, especially as I left the bright lights of the city for the preserve on the outskirts.

Inside, a friendly-looking man took the box off my hands. He didn’t tell me to stick around, but he didn’t tell me to leave either, so I stayed. I had other things I didn't want to do, after all, and it would be nice to know what was going to happen to the bat.

I wasn’t expecting to get my box back, but the man stepped back into the lobby with it tucked beneath an arm. His smile looked forced now, as he thrust the shoebox back to me.

“Ma’am, we’re very busy here. I don’t know what you were thinking, but please, don’t waste our time,” he said.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

I opened the box and fell silent. The bat was gone. It had been replaced with a small, pale doll. 

“Is this some kind of joke?” I asked.

“Like I said, we’re very busy. If there’s nothing I can actually do for you…?”

I put up a hand and apologized for…I didn’t entirely know what I’d done here, but there was clearly no injured bat for him to help me with. I closed the box and awkwardly shuffled back out to my car to try and figure out what had just happened.

~

When I next woke, my head was clearer.

I was sure that I’d been captured by some manner of capture because God almighty, that light was blinding. No reasonable vampire would ruin a room with such a miserable lamp, save those few with a soft spot for their thralls’ visual needs. 

I was still blinking back tears to try and adjust to the artificial blaze when someone scoffed and the light disappeared altogether. An unknown force threw me to the ground. I tried to collect myself several times before I realized the room itself was shaking, at which point I simply settled into the fleece around me as comfortably as I could and waited for the chance to face my attacker.

There was an especially rough quake that shoved me up against the wall, and then the earth was still at last. I flinched as a sliver of light appeared overhead only to be mercifully bathed in moonlight. 

I didn’t recognize where I was, not even what sort of building this might be. The ceiling was distant and carpeted. There were windows all around, as if we were in a poorly shaped dome. Even the box I’d been transported in was strange. The wood was unnaturally smooth and I saw no hinges for the top side that had been pulled away.

As I was considering the low wall before me, a cloud passed over the moon and cast me in shadow. At least, I assumed that was the source until she gasped. I twisted to face the noise and gasped back. A massive woman, larger than some buildings, gawked down at me and at once, the pieces fell together. I had been not only captured, but cursed. I doubted I would be more than a half foot tall, were I to measure.

Her scent engulfed me as she leaned even closer, intoxicatingly sweet. The steady rhythm of her heart was near enough it almost enthralled me. I wanted her. And I would have her. But first, my dignity.

I opened my mouth to demand she turn me back and release me, or, if she couldn’t, return me to the one who could. I intended to order her to serve me as I deserved. The words died in my throat. 

My charm, my magic didn’t even make it that far. I needed to see my victims’ eyes if I wanted to bewitch them and I couldn’t bear to meet hers. I faltered after less than a half a second. but her whiskey stare combined with the sheer size of the behemoth looming over me was too much, too intense. My knees buckled; I was as helpless in her gaze as she ought to be in mine. 

“What are you?” she whispered.

[circus4apsycho8]

Hello, I hope you are doing well. I was wondering could you write love crossover Cole x supernatural story, where reader is a hunter who dated him when they went to Marty Oppenheimer School until one day he suddenly left without saying a word. When she finds Cole she was hurt to find out that he left on purpose.Walking home she got attacked by monster but Dean saved her, and she decided to become hunter too. Couple of years later she was working on a case when she gets arrested by ninja.

𝚊/𝚗: 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚘! 𝚒 𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚘𝚘! 𝚕𝚎𝚝 𝚖𝚎 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚜𝚊𝚢, 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚜𝚘 𝚏𝚞𝚗 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚠𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚎 𝚜𝚘 𝚏𝚊𝚛! 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚒𝚌 𝚒𝚜 𝚊 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚙𝚕𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚑𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚒'𝚖 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚢 𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚢 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚒𝚝'𝚜 𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚜𝚘 𝚏𝚊𝚛. 𝚒𝚝'𝚜 𝚏𝚞𝚗 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚐𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚋𝚛𝚘𝚜 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚓𝚊𝚐𝚘 𝚞𝚗𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚎. 𝚒 𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚒𝚝!

according to plan. | cole x reader | chapter i

Since when had he grown to despise the sunrise?

Splashes of orange melt into vibrant hues of pink and yellow, beckoning the sun to serve another day. Sleepiness riddles Cole’s eyelids as he rests his forehead on the rails of the Bounty, staring at the clouds below as his feet dangle precariously off the edge. A chilly breeze sweeps through his hair, eliciting a chill across his skin as he faces the sunrise once more. 

The black-haired boy sighs, pulling his hoodie tighter around him. The fabric is thinner than that of his gi, making for worsened protection from the cold. In a strange way, though, part of him finds the cold refreshingly numbing. Today bears an event he has been dreading for a long time, but it appears that karma has reared its ugly face in order to force him to face his past. 

Clutched in his right palm lies a ring – nothing fancy, or even real for that matter. Just a cheap, plastic ring painted with a metal-textured silver paint with its imposter of a gem comprised of a purple shade resembling that of amethyst. 

He chuckles quietly, the sight of the ring triggering one of the many lines he had spent so much time perfecting: 

“With this ring... I ask you to be mine,” he quotes quietly, flipping the object around in his grasp. He never thought a painted piece of plastic could bear so much meaning to him. Yet, here he is, ruefully reflecting on the memories this ring brings back. 

“Ready?” calls Kai, interrupting his moment of quiet. Cole nods, taking a moment to stretch before standing and slipping the ring in his pocket. 

“Let’s get this over with,” Cole replies. Having to fake the whole Marty Oppenheimer thing had been hard for him to do. Now, having to face his dad in person? With his team members? That brings a whole other element to the charade. 

“You okay, man? You’ve been kind of off lately,” Jay questions as the four prepare to jump. 

“I haven’t seen my dad since I ran away. Part of me is wondering if I’ll really be able to keep up the act,” Cole answers. “We didn’t exactly leave off on good terms, you know.” 

Well, it’s not entirely a lie, at least. He couldn’t have them knowing the entire truth. Not until he knows himself. 

“In that case, what are we waiting for?” Kai questions. With that, Cole grabs the weapon case resting at the center of the Bounty deck before the four leap over the edge of the Bounty, losing themselves to the adrenaline rush that follows.   

...      

“Alright. Hand them over.” 

“Ah-ah. But no mortal shall possess all four,” Jay quips with a chuckle, setting his nunchucks inside the case. 

“Very funny,” Cole mumbles, rolling his eyes as the others set their respective weapons in as well. 

“You wanna remind me again why we can't keep our weapons?” Kai questions, hesitantly eyeing the case as Cole snaps it shut. 

“I told you, my dad can't find out I'm a ninja. And I don't feel like making up excuses why I'm carrying a giant scythe around with me. Just remember the plan: we find out who has the Fangblade trophy, we snatch it, and then we get the heck out of town.” 

With that, Cole turns towards his childhood home, a whelm of mixed emotion coursing throughout him as he approaches the door. How long has it been...? 

Well, there’s no point in putting it off. Shoving his fears away, he knocks on the door. It’s going to suck no matter how he approaches this, so he might as well just power through.   

“Just a moment!” calls the familiar voice of his dad. Cole swallows, free hand fidgeting at his shirt.   

Sooner than he likes, the door swivels open to reveal Lou. Upon first glance, he hasn’t changed much – just a little bit older, is all. Cole notices that Lou bears a cane, on which he is leaning. Is he hurt? 

“Hey, dad. How long has it been?” Cole greets, the happy hint to his tone sounding painfully forced. 

“What? You too good for the doorbell?” Lou questions sternly, slamming the door shut. 

“Uh...” 

“Use. The bell. Son.” 

Rolling his eyes, Cole pushes the button. He knows one thing for sure – he's dreading his father’s stupid antics. 

“Welcome!” sings the doorbell in the unmistakable tone of The Royal Blacksmiths. That was one of many aspects of Cole’s childhood that he didn’t miss – hearing that damned quartet practice over and over again. 

Once more, the door swings open. “Haha! Come on in, son. It's been forever. What did you bring? A quartet? Come in, come in. I've got a kettle of lemon honey tea on the stove right now.” 

… 

“Alright, time for a break. Take five,” Lou instructs, exiting the room. 

“Uh, I'm starting to see why Cole is so closed off. It's cause twinkle toes here couldn't deliver the goods. Is that why you ran away?” Jay questions as the four file into the living room. Cole sticks towards the couch as the other three study all of the pictures lined up on the wall, eyeing each one carefully. 

“Oh, I could deliver the goods. Look, I'll deal with my father, but let's stick with the plan. All we have to do is keep this charade long enough until we can get our hands on the trophy.” 

“I don't know. I'm starting to think we can win this thing,” Jay suggests, smirking. Cole merely grunts, the idea of having to go on stage again making him want to vomit. “Okay, okay. We'll stick to the plan!” 

“Hey, Cole?” 

The group silences, all turning to face Kai. The brunet is staring at one of the pictures on the wall, pointing to it. 

“Who’s that?” 

Cole frowns, making his way over to Kai. Soon enough, the picture frame comes into focus as his heart drops. 

Within the picture is a younger Cole, dressed in a costume as he hugs a girl around his age. Cole’s stomach drops at the image, face softening as guilt creeps throughout his being. 

“Who is she?” Jay repeats as Cole sits down, the three crowding him with expectant stares.  

“Just...an old friend of mine,” he mumbles, averting his gaze to the floor. Kai, Jay and Zane all exchange questioning glances, silently deciding to drop the topic for the time being. 

“Alright, I’ve got you four registered for tomorrow!” declares Lou as he re-enters the room. “Now, get back to it!” 

… 

After what can only be described as hours of torment, Lou finally finishes the boys’ lessons for the day. The ninja groan as the four pile into Cole’s old room. 

“That was horrible,” Jay whines, flopping onto Cole’s bed. “My feet...they hurt...”  

“How are we going to be able to walk tomorrow?” Kai questions, sitting across from Jay. 

“I do not see how we will be fully prepared to perform tomorrow under these circumstances,” Zane notes. “We have not had nearly enough practice!”   

Cole sighs as he looks around, ignoring his team for a moment. Well, at least nothing in his room had changed. His dad at least cared enough to keep everything tidy while he had been gone.   

“Wow, Cole. You’re a lot nerdier than you let on,” Jay comments, causing Cole to spin around. He notices that Jay has migrated towards his bookshelf, pointing at the Earth Ninja’s rather packed display. It’s filled with books of all genres. Ranging from wild fantasy novels to play scripts and nonfiction, Cole seems to have a little bit of everything. Garnishing the shelf are various crystals and geodes he had found as a kid during his adventures in the woods. He’d always had a knack for finding pretty rocks and crystals. 

“Shut up,” Cole mumbles. 

“Such a wide variety,” Zane notes as he examines the shelf. “Although, I am most curious – why do you have so many scripts? Did you act at all during your time here?” 

“Yeah, I did. A lot,” Cole answers. 

“Let’s see...of course there’s Shakespeare, Homer, Sophocles...” Jay trails off at the mention of the last one before cringing. “Hopefully you didn’t act out Oedipus Rex.” 

"Jay, do you really think they would let people perform that one in a family-friendly theater?” 

“You have a point.” 

“Also, I didn’t act out every single one up there. I read a lot of plays too,” Cole clarifies. 

Jay nods, continuing to read. “Disney plays...oh, cool, Corpse Bride?”  

Cole remains silent, electing to stare out his window instead. Maybe there’s still something he could do...? 

The three ninja glance at each other, Kai shaking his head at Jay. Zane steps forward, resting a hand on Cole’s shoulder. 

“Cole, what is the matter? You have not been yourself today.” 

“Just thinking,” Cole answers. “It hasn’t been easy for me to return, you know.” 

“Can we help at all?” Jay asks as the three come to sit by him at the window. 

“I’ll be okay. Let’s just sleep for now, yeah?” 

With that, the four go for a round of rock-paper-clam to settle on sleeping arrangements. But Cole knew his brothers – and he used their answers to his advantage. Jay claimed Cole's old bed, Kai slept on the couch, and Zane insisted that he was fine on the floor. 

Cole, however, had no intention of sleeping. Tonight would be the night that he made things right, no matter how scared he got. 

Well, one positive of Lou’s intense rehearsal session meant that his brothers would fall asleep rather quickly. Soon enough, his teammates’ soft snores and breaths fill the room. Cole creeps through his room, unlocking the hinges of the window before clambering out and shutting it. Just like he used to. 

Immediately, he shudders. His gi is no match for the biting cold, but he wastes no time in hopping off of the ledge and dashing across the rooftops, the familiar path gently jogging his muscle memory. Deep down, he knew he would never forget the way. 

He arrives soon enough, leaping down onto the ground gracefully as he surveys the building in front of him. 

It’s nothing special – just a one-story house. It looks a little bit different than he remembers – less lively. Not taken care of. Cole frowns, approaching the front door as a wary feeling skitters over him. 

His heart skips a beat when he sees the “NO TRESPASSING” sign up front, the door slightly ajar. 

“She’s...not here anymore?” he wonders to himself quietly as his heartbeat increases. He pushes the door open, listening as it silently creaks open. 

An oppressive atmosphere settles onto his chest, making him more alert as he steps inside warily. Something is wrong. 

White sheets cover the furniture inside. He tentatively peeks underneath the sheets, realizing all of the furniture is the same as he remembers. A frown lines his lips as he makes his way towards the living room. Interesting...the television is still there. So is her old gaming console. And all of the games they had played together late at night. Why are these still here? 

The rest of the house is in a similar state – same furniture, all of her belongings present... Everything is there but clearly nothing had been disturbed for a long time. Though, something odd strikes Cole as he examines the contents in her room: 

“The pictures are all gone,” he whispers. 

That is the only item he can tell to be missing. But why is everything else here? Where did she go? 

The first explanation to come to Cole’s mind – she moved. But if so, why hadn’t she sold her house? Why was everything left behind? He quickly debunks that explanation, moving on to something else. 

Did she run away, like he did? That would explain why her furniture was still here. But a lot of her essential items were still here too. Wouldn’t she have taken those as well? 

The last explanation to come to mind... 

Something happened.

He shudders, realizing that must be the case. Nothing else made sense. His mind runs wild with thoughts as he approaches her old bed, when - 

“What the...?” Cole frowns, a foul stench entering his nose. He cringes, glancing around for the suspect when his eyes land on her windowsill. A yellow powder seems to have been scattered across the surface. 

That’s when it clicks in his mind. The smell, the yellow powder... 

“Sulfur?" he wonders confusedly. Why would there be sulfur here? 

Cole checks the window, surveying it for any kind of damage. No sign of forced entry. Odd. 

His gaze drifts down to her nightstand, an old memory flashing through his mind as he grabs the handle. 

“I wonder...” he mumbles, pulling it open. “Ah, there we go.” 

Cole pulls out an old polaroid picture. She was there, laying on his chest and smiling while he hugged her from behind. He remembered that morning – waking up next to her, teasing her for wanting to take a picture of them first thing in the morning... 

But she hadn’t taken this with her, though. That is, assuming she was the one who took the other pictures. If so, why not this one? 

Maybe it’s because you just up and left. Dumbass.

“Right,” Cole mumbles to himself, shaking his head as he slips the photo in his pocket before standing once more. 

It’s then he realizes that he hasn’t checked the bathroom yet – the last place he hadn’t examined. He swallows, the heavy atmosphere growing stronger as he pushes the door open. 

Chills course over his body as he studies the scene before him. 

Broken shards of glass litter the floor. All of the mirrors had been completely smashed. Cole realizes more sulfur is scattered about the counters of the sinks. 

Suddenly, it all grows to be too much. The atmosphere is nearly suffocating him now, so he turns back, immediately deciding that he had seen enough. Enough to realize that his mistake was even bigger than he had initially thought. 

Cole exits the house, already knowing where to head next as his mind buzzes with unanswered questions. 

…   

“I’m sorry I haven’t visited you in a while.” 

Silence creeps throughout the cemetery as Cole sits across from his mother’s tombstone. The darkness shrouds the stone in shadow, but he can still make out her name: 

Lilly Brookstone

“A lot has happened since I last visited,” he comments, taking his mask off and tossing the fabric to the ground for the time being. “I’ve been busy. But that’s not really an excuse, I know.” 

He trails off, unsure of what to say first. “You know...I feel like there’s so much I need to say, but...I don’t know where to start.” 

Silence consumes him for a moment before he speaks again. “Well...I came back. To visit dad, I mean. Even if it’s just for a mission. It’s weird being with him again, you know? He thinks I’ve been at Marty Oppenheimer all this time, but instead...I followed your footsteps. Not his. Sensei Wu told me about you, Mom.” 

He sniffs, using his mask to wipe his tears away before setting the mask on the ground. “He told me that you were a ninja. And...it’s just...it’s hard. Knowing that my element used to be yours. Knowing that my existence took it from you, and that might have been part of the reason why you...you...” 

He shakes his head, biting his lip as he looks down. His vision is blurry now. “But Sensei keeps telling me it’s not my fault. I can’t help but feel like it is, though.” 

Once more, he wipes away his tears, deciding to change the subject. “I’ve made a lot of mistakes, too. You told me it was okay to make mistakes, but Dad never seems to agree with that. The dancing stuff I never really cared about. But I felt like I was never good enough. I think I chose the right path, in the end, but...I messed up. And I feel like something bad happened because of it. 

“When I was still living with Dad, I...met this girl.” Cole tells his mother your name. “We met at the theater one day...and we were best friends. We did everything together. And...come high school...we started dating. I think you would have liked her, Mom. She was tough. Strong. But really caring, too. She was such a good singer, too, and she loved to dance and act. 

“I started enjoying theater work because of her. We played Orpheus and Eurydice together. And then...the last play we did together was Corpse Bride. But we never got to perform it in front of a live audience...because I left. I just left. With no word. No goodbye. I was too scared to do it. Too weak. And now...something bad happened to her. She could be gone because of me.” 

Cole exhales sharply, rubbing his forehead. “I checked her house just a few minutes ago. But she wasn’t there. Her belongings were still there, but...she was gone. I couldn’t find anything that could have indicated where she went, either. Maybe Dad knows something?” 

He sighs. “I don’t know. I’m going to find her, though.” Cole stands, realizing that the sun is beginning to rise. Looks like he’d been out longer than he thought. “But for now, we have to get that Fangblade before the Serpentine do.” 

Cole grabs his mask, approaching his mother’s grave once more. He kneels down, resting his forehead against the cold stone. “I’m sorry, Mom. I miss you more than anything. I hate that I don’t feel comfortable leaning on Dad more. But I’m gonna make things right. I’ll bring you flowers next time, too. I know how much you loved flowers. And I’ll clean your tombstone up. I love you, Mom. See you next time.” 

With that, Cole yanks his mask back on as he exits the cemetery, eyes landing on the sunrise as he makes his way back home. He can’t help but wonder if you’re staring up at the same sunrise too. 

…   

[Somewhere in Ninjago...]  

You haven’t been able to sleep. 

A quiet yawn escapes your lips as your eyes crinkle. You lay your head against the glass of the car, the vibrations preventing any sort of sleep. Instead, you elect to study the sunrise. 

It’s a new day. What will it hold? 

“Rise ‘n shine, sweetheart!” Dean calls from the front. You sit up straight, rubbing your eyes as Sam turns to look at you from the passenger seat. 

“Hey. Were you able to sleep any?” he questions, donning that signature concerned Sammy expression. 

You shake your head, trying to stretch as best you can. “Not really. Just kind of closed my eyes without really sleeping, you know?” 

“I get it. We’re almost to our motel for this hunt, so you can nap later at least.” 

“We need to eat first. I don’t know about you guys, but I’m starving,” Dean comments. 

“Yeah, I could eat too,” Sam adds. 

“Me too,” you mumble, noticing you’re back on the highway leading to Ninjago. By the looks of it, it’s relatively close to your hometown. A wave of nostalgia floods over you as you glance out of the window again, wondering what all has changed in your home. 

“I didn’t realize that we were coming here,” you note, the skyscrapers of Ninjago City coming into view. Wow, they’ve gotten quite a bit of construction completed. It looks a bit bigger than you remember. 

“We didn’t either, until last tonight,” Sam replies, handing you a piece of paper. You frown, taking it from him. 

“That’s a letter from Mystake. You know, that little old lady who runs her own tea shop?” Dean explains. 

“Oh, Mystake? I hope she’s doing okay,” you question, skimming the letter as you frown. You know Mystake’s tough, but you had been worried for her when you left after the incident. 

"She’ll be fine. She’s a tough old geezer,” Dean replies. 

“And she’s been experiencing weird stuff?” you wonder, referring to the contents in the letter. “Doesn’t sound like a haunting, though.” 

“More like someone trying to get the drop on her,” Sam comments. “Obviously, it didn’t work.” 

“I imagine whoever it was probably got a face full of lead,” you mutter with a small smile. Oh, Mystake. How you missed that eccentrically kind old lady who probably wouldn’t hesitate to gut a wrongdoer. 

“Right?” Sam agrees, unfolding a map onto his lap as he chuckles. 

“Right now, we think it’s probably a shapeshifter,” Dean adds, not looking away from the road. “But you know that can always change.” 

“Yeah,” you mumble, sighing. 

“Something wrong?” Sam questions, glancing back at you once more. 

“No, it just...feels weird to be back here, you know? And I’m probably going to have to be careful out in public because, well...” 

“Oh yeah. You’re still technically MIA,” Dean comments as the three of you enter your home city, Baby’s engine whirring through the busy streets. “I wonder if you’ve been declared legally dead yet? That could be a funny prank. You know, if you find any of your old friends here. You could become a zombie.” 

“I think that being legally dead takes at least seven years,” you comment. “But that would be kind of funny.” 

“Well, try to enjoy it. You can use this while we’re here,” Sam note, setting the map aside so he can open the glove compartment. He rummages around, eventually pulling out a black, cloth mask. “There you go.” 

“Oh, thanks,” you reply, tucking the mask away in a secure spot as he returns his attention to the map. “And I’ll try to. Enjoy it, I mean,” you mumble, now lost in a pit of mixed emotions. 

…   

Soon enough, the three of you arrive at a cozy little restaurant. The purr of Baby’s engine ceases for the time being as you eagerly clamber out of the car, taking a moment to stretch your weary limbs. The fresh air kisses your skin as Sam and Dean do the same. Suddenly remembering your situation, you slip your mask on. Hopefully it’d do the trick and not raise too much suspicion. 

“Finally, some grub,” Dean muses as you all gather near the front. Dean lovingly pats Baby’s hood a few times before your trio enters the diner. “I wonder if this place is any good?” 

“The reviews were great from what I read,” Sam notes, ever the more responsible brother as you chuckle slightly. 

You smile, quietly enjoying the lightened atmosphere as you file in behind the brothers. The divine scent of the restaurant graces you, probably inciting a tummy growl on its own. Seriously, is there anything more appetizing than the smell of yummy food after hours and hours of being on the road? 

“Good afternoon, guys!” greets a feminine voice. The three of you glance over to see a red-headed woman leaning against the counter, offering you all a welcoming smile. 

“Hey, how’s it going?” Sam greets. 

“Doing pretty well. How about you all?” 

“Hungry,” Dean notes with a small smile. 

“Well, you’ve come to the right place,” she replies. “Go ahead and seat yourselves. I’ll be over to get your drink orders in a second.” 

“Thank you,” Sam says before the three of you slink towards a more secluded spot. Sam gestures for you to take a seat facing the wall so that having the mask off wouldn’t be as big of an annoyance. 

Silence overcomes the group as you glance around the area, noticing that there are televisions stationed throughout the place. They all seem to be tuned into the same channel – the news. You decide to watch for a moment: 

“Good afternoon, Ninjago! Gayle Gossip here at the Marty Oppenheimer School of Performing Arts, where this year’s annual Ninjago Talent show will take place in just a few short hours! We have so many talented groups competing this year – and we’re seeing some new faces as well, such as the Treble Makers and Spin Harmony!” 

“No way,” you mumble. 

“What’s up?” 

“The Marty Oppenheimer...that’s where I used to go to school,” you answer, voice dropping. 

“Really? Performing arts?” Sam questions, shooting you a quizzical glance. 

You shrug, turning back towards them. "Yeah. I wasn’t bad at it, either.” 

“So, what, like acting? Singing?” Dean questions. 

“A little bit of everything. I mostly specialized in singing and dancing, but I...unexpectedly started acting, too,” you recall with a bitter frown. 

Thankfully, the redhead from before is approaching, notepad in hand. “Are you guys ready?” 

You can’t help but zone out as Sam and Dean order, the realization of just how much time has passed hitting you like a brick. It sucks, but this is the way it has to be. 

“And for you, miss?” the woman questions, snapping you out of your haze. 

You order quickly, missing the concerned glance that the brothers exchange. She thanks you all before returning the counter. 

“So, about the case...” Wow. Way to subtly change the topic. “What are the details?” 

Dean quietly pulls out a folder from the abyss of his leather jacket, slapping it on the table. You open it, finding the usual: case summaries, victim profiles, crime scene pictures, the works. 

“Four people dead. All killed under...well, weird circumstances,” Sam says. “The pattern here is that they were all killed by who they thought to be their loved ones.” 

“Definitely sounds like a shapeshifter,” you mumble, flipping through the papers and scanning them all. “But Mystake’s letter mentioned that she thought something was weird about the case. What do you think that is?” 

“Take a look at the crime scene pictures,” Sam says. 

You do so, finding the photographs at the end of the file. You notice there’s one consistency among all of the scenes – a symbol engraved on some part of the rooms. One on the left wall, one on the floor, one on the right wall, and one on the front wall. 

“Interesting...why are these placed so methodically?” you wonder. 

“That’s what we need to figure out,” Sam replies, taking the folder back once you close it. You frown. 

“What?” Dean questions. 

“That symbol is familiar,” you say. “But I just...I don’t remember where I saw it from.” 

The waitress comes by, setting down all of your drinks. The three of you thank her, waiting for her to go back before resuming the conversation. 

“Just think on it. Don’t push too hard. It’ll come to you,” Sam suggests. 

“Great. Well, I, for one, don’t wanna be talking about dead people before I eat, so how about something more positive?” Dean offers. 

From there, the brothers strike up a chat, trying to include you. You’re too consumed with thought, though. There were too many loose ends from when you’d left, and yet... 

...you don’t know what to do about them. 

Minutes pass before the waitress comes back, distributing your food. Once she finishes, she stands back, tray under her arm and a smile on her face. “Anything else I can get for you guys?” 

“Actually, I have a random question,” you say, catching her attention. 

“Of course! I’ll answer to the best of my ability.” 

“Thanks. Um...would you happen to know what time the Ninjago Talent show is? We’re...relatives of someone performing and got a bit sidetracked along the way.” 

“Well, you’re in luck. They’re hosting it later tonight, at nine,” she comments. 

“Oh, good. Thank you,” you say. She nods, thanking you all once more before leaving. 

“Did you perform in that competition?” Sam questions as you all dig into your meals. 

You nod. “Yeah. More times than I can count.” 

“Did you ever win?” Sam wonders. 

“A few times.” 

“Look at you, twinkle toes,” Dean teases between bites. 

“Ugh, don’t even,” you say, faking a disgusted face. You had heard that stupid nickname more times than you can count. 

From there, the conversation takes a more lighthearted turn as the three of you finish up your meals for the night. 

…

[Brookstone Residence]   

Thankfully, Cole manages to make it back just in time for everyone else to wake up. He glances around, knowing his father would probably be up already.   

Part of him feels like a kid again – the walk to the living room reminds Cole of when he would dart through the halls, anxiously waiting to see what morning cartoons were on. Or what his mother had prepared for breakfast. He sighs quietly, reflecting on those small moments as he proceeds. 

Quietly creeping through the halls, he immediately recognizes his father’s humming as he enters the kitchen. 

“Dad?” 

“Good morning, son. I was just making breakfast. Did you sleep well?” 

No. “Uh, yeah, thanks,” Cole replies. “Actually, I have a question.” 

“What is it, son?” 

“Have you...heard from her?” 

Lou pauses what he’s doing on the stove, smiling sadly and shaking his head. “No. No one in the village has seen or heard from her ever since…” Lou trails off, gaze somewhat distant. 

Cole’s eyebrows furrow as he sits up straighter. “Since what?” 

“Something happened,” Lou says quietly. “It was shortly after you left. The last time she was seen, she had been walking home from the theater. But she never made it home, and no one has seen her since.” 

“What?!” Cole states, his voice raising as he stands. “She’s missing?” 

Lou nods solemnly, gesturing for Cole to follow him to the dining room. The two take a seat as he sighs. “Like I said, she was walking home from the theater late one night. Never came back. No one saw her that night anywhere. There was no evidence that could have led to an explanation. Nothing except for a pile of sulfur.” 

“A pile of sulfur?” Cole wonders. Just like what he found in your house... 

“I know. None of it made sense. The only video footage that was caught of that night was unobtainable because the file coincidentally became corrupted before the authorities could view it. They couldn’t get it to return to normal.” 

“What?! So...so she’s just...gone?” 

Lou nods, sighing. “What we know is little and not enough to go on: she was walking home from the theater one night after practice. The best guess as to what happened was that she was kidnapped, but there were no leads. None. It was doomed to be a cold case.” 

“No...there’s no way...there had to have been something. People always leave something behind!” Cole insists, suddenly unable to sit still. How did he not hear about this? “They missed something, they had to of-” 

“Son,” Lou says softly, placing a hand on his son’s shoulder. “I saved this for you.” 

Cole turns, eyeing a newspaper article in his dad’s grasp. He takes it, unfolding it:

MISSING TEEN 

Late this Wednesday night, a girl went missing. Eerily enough, there was little evidence to go on – nothing except for a pile of sulfur, as odd as it is. Officials have attempted to extract any type of trace evidence, but to no avail. To add to the bizarre element of this case, the video footage surrounding the area of her disappearance was completely corrupted, rendering it useless. All camera footage recorded within a one mile radius of the crime scene were completely distorted, meaning that someone successfully erased the only lead that officials could have used. Authorities attempted to recover the file, but their attempts remain unsuccessful. 

Authorities are asking anyone who could have information about this case to step forward, even if anonymously. A reward is being offered to anyone who gives information leading to her rescue or an arrest. 

Could this have been the perfect crime? Updates will be posted here as they come up. 

“What?” Cole mumbles, setting the article down as he rubs his forehead. 

Lou nods. “Nothing about the whole thing made any sense. None of the working theories add up. The best explanation we can think of was that she was just...kidnapped. By someone who was extremely diligent about not leaving evidence behind.” 

“But if so, then why the sulfur?” Cole mumbles. 

“Exactly. Every time we thought we had some kind of explanation, something like that comes up,” Lou replies. 

Cole stares at your picture on the article. What happened? Where did you go? Were you... 

...no. He knows you’re not dead. 

But there are far too many unanswered questions, and he’ll be damned if he’s going to let that go so easily. No matter how angry you might be with him, no matter how inconclusive the evidence is... 

“I’m going to find her.” 

“Son...” Lou sighs, sitting back down in his chair as he rubs his forehead. “The authorities have had no lead in this. What makes you think you’ll be any different?” 

Cole grits his teeth, clenching his fist as he turns away from his father. “Well, some of us can’t just stand around singing and dancing to avoid reality.” 

Lou remains silent, expression darkening as Cole shakes his head, also going quiet as the rest of his team enters the living room, Kai and Jay both groggy while Zane is as alert as ever.  

“Come on, guys. Let’s get ready. We only have a few hours to prepare.” 

…   

[Ninjago City – 6:37 PM]

Darkness gradually begins to shroud the sky as you find yourself stepping out of the Impala once more, this time in front of an old motel. It’s nothing special, but it’ll get the three of you through the case. 

Travel days always take a toll on the three of you. It’s just exhausting. And while it’s been cool to travel frequently, it also sucks in a lot of ways. Sam and Dean are the only people you really have now. Any of the other friends you had made along the way probably wouldn’t matter because you were unlikely to see them ever again. 

A sigh escapes you as you follow Sam and Dean inside, the guys carrying the duffel bags stashed with weapons and miscellaneous items while you carry your own personal bag. After checking in, the three of you unload in the room. 

“About damned time,” Dean mutters, all of you dumping your bags on the table. “Sleep now. Case tomorrow.” 

You wander towards the window, pushing aside the curtain so you can have a glimpse outside. While you’re not exactly familiar with the area, you recall passing a sign that listed a village close to your hometown on the way here. That means you can’t be far, even if it’s just a matter of you needing to get your bearings. 

Mind set, you decide you’d have a look around tonight. You have some unfinished business here. 

Dean is the first to hop in the shower, leaving you and Sam to unpack. You pull out your laptop and other belongings, deciding that you’d do some digging before you go. 

“How are you doing?” Sam questions, pulling the bags off to the side so that the table is clear. You shrug, opening your computer. 

“Fine, I guess. Why?” 

“I meant with the nightmares,” Sam clarifies, tone soft as he studies you. “Sorry. Should have been more specific.” 

“I mean...they’re the same. Haven’t gotten worse, haven’t slowed down, either.” 

“No progress at all?” Sam wonders, frowning. 

You wave off his concerns as you type in your password. “I’m fine, Sam. They’re just dreams after all.” 

“Yeah, but...that also means that everything we’ve tried hasn’t helped. Which means this thing is stronger than we initially thought.” 

“Nothing else is happening, though. I’ll be okay.” 

Sam sighs, rubbing his forehead. “At least let Cas try to help?” 

You smile, nodding as you glance at Sam. “Yeah. That sounds good.” 

“Good. I feel like if anyone can give us some direction with it, it’s him.” 

“I hope so,” you say, taking a second to glance at the internet search bar on your screen. What to look up first? 

“Anyways. I’ll stop prying about that for now. I know it’s annoying, but we’re just worried,” Sam says, opening his own laptop. “This is something we haven’t faced before, and we haven’t found anything similar in our dad’s journal, which is kind of throwing us for a loop, I guess.” 

“I appreciate it. I’ll tell you guys if it gets worse. I hope I’m not being too irritated today...it’s just really strange being back after everything that happened.” 

“I get that. Do you miss it at all?” 

You shrug. “I do sometimes. I used to love being on stage. I felt like it was really what I was meant to do, you know? But now...I just have a hard time singing or dancing or pretending to be someone else when there are people dying. People getting hurt. Families being torn apart. By doing this, I’m actually helping people. And it’s not always pretty, but...I like doing it,” you explain, eyes studying something in the distance. “I feel like I’m a part of something bigger.” 

“Hey...you know it’s not selfish to do what you want to do, right?” Sam counters as he shuts his laptop, leaning forward in his chair. “Truthfully, I wasn’t going to become a hunter. Not until Azazel killed Jess,” he recalls, expression darkening at the memory. “Because I wanted to go to college. I didn’t want to end up like my dad. I just wanted to be happy, to live a life that was normal and...basically the complete opposite of what I had as a kid. What I’m trying to say is that you don’t have to keep doing this. You don’t have to throw away your life for a cause that’s as morbid as this.” 

“But...I want to help people-” 

“And you still can. Helping people isn’t just killing monsters. You can help people in so many different ways, and those don’t have to be violent.” Sam sighs before speaking up again. “And what about your old friends?” 

You avert your gaze, throat tightening. “They’re all off doing their own thing now, I think.” 

Sam remains quiet for a moment. “Look...just think about everything I’m telling you. You still have a chance to get out of this and I want you to do what makes you happy. Don’t just stay in this mess of a lifestyle just because you’re out for vengeance. I can assure you that revenge isn’t as satisfying as it appears. It just leaves you empty and numb.” 

“But...I need to know why it happened,” you mumble, glancing away. “Why it had to be me. Why I’m still having nightmares. And why I feel like it isn’t the end.” 

“I understand. I know it’s frustrating. I know it’s hard. But...just promise me you’ll take time to think about my point?” Sam smiles softly as he offers you his pinky – a running inside joke between the two of you. “We can figure out your case as we go. But you deserve to live your life the way you want, and no supernatural being should have a say in how you do that.” 

You roll your eyes before nodding, wrapping your pinky around his. “I promise.” 

“Thank you.” 

From there, the two of you resume your respective laptop activities, waiting for Dean to finish showering. 

By now, you’ve caught up on most of the historical events that have happened since you left: 

Shortly after you disappeared, an investigation was launched to no avail. It was quickly driven to a halt as there were no leads to follow. No surprise there. A few months later, Ninjago saw the rise of the Serpentine in addition to a mysterious new force of...ninjas? With powers? Cool. Looks like they were last spotted at Mega Monster Amusement Park. A small smile lines your lips as you recall the fond memories you have of that place. 

You’re also able to determine where you’re at in regards to the city. The theater isn’t horribly far away. You decide that you’ll definitely have a look around tonight before you go watch the talent show. 

Lastly, you hesitantly type in a name you’ve been reluctant to know the fate of. 

His name grants your search no news. Just the old articles of the theater days, when you were there with him. Interesting. 

Shaking the thought of him away, you shut your laptop as Dean emerges from the bathroom, dressed in comfy clothes. You gesture for Sam to go next, knowing you wouldn’t need to shower just yet. 

Dean groans as he opens his bag, quickly realizing Sam had already unpacked it. He turns towards the mini fridge, pulling out a beer and cracking it open. 

“You gonna go watch that show? Or whatever it is?” Dean questions, taking a swig as he turns on the TV, lowering the volume before sitting down across from you. 

“Yeah,” you say. “I just want to have a look around.” 

“You have enough silver?” he questions, eyeing you with a raised brow. 

“Plenty. I’ll be fine.” 

“Holy water?” 

“Yep.” 

“Salt?” 

“Always.” 

“Okay. Just be careful. Especially with-” 

“I’ll be okay, Dean. Thank you though.” 

He sighs, nodding. “Just call us if you need us. Or Cas.” 

“Thank you, Dean. I’ll be back in a few hours.” 

…   

It’s still here. 

A shaky breath escapes your lips as you gaze at your old house – still standing, still empty. Save for the remnants of your shattered life. You gently push the door open, peeking inside cautiously. 

Wow. How long has it been since you’ve been here? You step inside, surveying the scene. All of the furniture is still here, just like your belongings. Everything is either super dusty or covered with tarp. Nothing seems to be missing, though, which is surprising. 

Not caring about the majority of your old stuff, you decide to head to your old room. Even though it’s quiet enough being here, you don’t want to stay for long – not just because the show is due to start within the hour, but also because it would be the perfect spot for something nasty to show up. Surely it would know you’d return home eventually. 

And it was right. There was one thing you hadn’t grabbed before you left. One item that had hurt too much to take back then that a part of you had been missing for a long time. 

Pushing open the door to your old room, you find that it has remained seemingly undisturbed. You step over to your nightstand, opening the drawer slowly... 

“Huh?” you mumble, realizing that the picture you had left there is gone. No trace of it. “It’s gone?” 

But...something is weird. There’s still an imprint of a rectangle there – the surroundings are coated in dust. That means that someone must have taken it recently. But who? 

You frown, standing as you glance towards your bathroom door. You shudder, immediately deciding that coming here might have been a bad idea. 

As quickly as you came, you were gone.  

Shaking the bad memories from your mind, you set in the all-too-familiar direction of the theater, taking the shortcut you know by heart. 

It only takes you about ten minutes to find the road that leads to the theater. You remain silent as you take in your surroundings: 

The chilly fall air, the old bakery you used to frequent with him, the old café, the park, the market... 

A small smile settles on your lips as you pause at the bakery, taking a moment to peer inside the glass window. Seems as if not much has changed; through the darkness and stacked chairs you can see that it’s still the same, well-loved bakery you remember. You lean back, deciding you would try and convince the guys if you could come here for breakfast tomorrow morning. 

Continuing on your way, you eventually find yourself standing at the entrance of the theater. A shaky breath escapes you as you hesitate, wondering why it all feels so different. So foreign, even though you know this place like the back of your hand. 

Despite your fears, you proceed forward, noticing a few people standing outside and chatting. There’s still about a half hour before the start of the show, though. You make sure your mask is covering your lower face before entering. 

You spot a few people seated behind a folded table as you enter. 

“Good evening. Have your ticket, or do you want to buy one?” 

“I’ll buy one,” you answer, shuffling around in your pockets and pulling out some spare cash. “How much?” 

With that, you pay your admission fee and thank the clerk before proceeding deeper into the theater. 

The halls are teeming with people as you squeeze your way past them, paying no mind to the hushed chatter flittering about the room. To no surprise, you notice that the main path backstage has been blocked off. Little do they know, however, is that there’s a hidden way to gain access. 

You slip into a custodial closet after having a glance around, fumbling to feel for the light switch along the wall. You find it a few seconds later, pushing it. The lights flicker to life, dimly illuminating the dusty closet. Various cleaning and maintenance tools line the shelves, and a ladder stands in the middle of the room across from you. You waste no time in climbing it, heaving the old trap door open as quietly as you can. 

Dust stirs around you, but you’re unfazed as you lift yourself onto the upper floor, being sure to close the trap door when you’re through. 

Wow. If you thought the nostalgia was intense before… 

You feel almost breathless as you rise, spotting the immense amount of storage boxes lining the perimeter. Across the room is another trap door and ladder that will lead you to the backstage area. For now, though, with the time you have before the show, you decide to reminisce for a little while. 

You approach the boxes, noting the names scribbled onto each one. Soon enough, you stumble across the one you’re looking for. 

Scrawled in your old handwriting reads: 

Corpse Bride 

Your fingertips trace the dried ink of the marker before drifting towards the flaps of the box, which have been taped shut. You tear the tape off, shoving it aside before opening it. 

It’s a rather small box considering that the play was never actually performed. It only contains a few potential costumes along with a few props. 

The first thing to catch your eye is the dress. 

A soft smile lines your lips as you gingerly lift it from its prison, the texture of the fabric just the way you remember it. 

It’s Emily’s dress – the character you were supposed to play. You had been so excited for this play – getting to know Emily and her tragic backstory was fun for you to dive into. Not to mention that you got to put your own little spin on her physical appearance, too. The dress had been tailored to your measurements, adding a bit of a macabre edge to it considering the nature of the actual movie. It still seems to be in a good state considering that it’s been stashed in a box for a while. 

Part of you wants to try it on, but you know that you don’t have much time left before the show starts. With that thought in mind, you hesitantly put it back. Well, you could always come back… 

You sigh, folding the box closed before you push it back to where it was, going to throw the discarded tape away before you make your way towards the other trap door, opening it quietly before you clamber down the ladder, verifying that the area is empty. 

The room is dark, but it’s not much of an issue considering that the room is pretty small. You’re able to find the door easily, quietly slipping out so that nobody notices. You slip through the crowd of performers, making your way to the audience when - 

“Ow! Dude, you gotta follow me!” 

“Follow you? You're two beats off!” 

“Actually, two point seventy-two off of the beat.” 

“Guys, guys!” interrupts another voice. This one, though... 

You turn. It can’t be. 

“Let's not make this any harder than it needs to be. We just stick to the plan and keep up the charade until the trophy's revealed. Once we steal the Blade Cup, we can argue all we want once we get back home.” 

You freeze in your pathway, not-so-subtly staring at the group of boys across from you. There are four, dressed in striped suits featuring four different colors: red, blue, white, and black. But one... 

You realize that the blue one has noticed you, the redhead returning your stare before you’re able to verify your suspicion. Realizing that you’ve been caught, you simply continue walking, eventually making your way into the auditorium. 

Your breathing becomes uneven as you think about what just happened. Was that really him back there? 

No. No, it can’t be. Or...can it? Did Cole really return? After all the time he was gone? 

You do your best to keep an unfazed expression as you move through the crowd, eventually finding an open seat at the back. Did Cole actually come back after you disappeared...? How long has he been back? 

...Did he try to find you? Does he even know you’re technically missing? 

You shake your head as you settle into your seat, anxiously gnawing on your lip as you wait for the show to begin. If that really was him...then why did he come back? You knew that he and his father were having issues, and that he had discussed running away before. But...he had talked to you about that. About how tired he was of fighting with his dad, and how he wanted a future with you above anything else. 

And, just like that, you’re led to the one question that’s been haunting you ever since he left: 

Why did he leave me? 

Where did he go? Why did he throw everything away in such a short period of time? The whole time during your relationship, you felt that everything on both sides was truly genuine. You loved him so much, and you knew that he loved you. And when he initially left, you thought that something had happened to him. Seeing this now, though...

If that was him...he didn't sound too disturbed. More annoyed, if anything. But if that's the case, then what was so important that he just left? Without any word? Any warning? Any explanation? 

Tears prick your eyes as you glance down at your hands. You would have gone with him. You would have given anything to have a life with him. But apparently, he didn’t feel that way. For what reason? 

Your thoughts stumble to a halt when a familiar figure slides across the stage. You would recognize that mop of orange hair anywhere; it’s Jackson, the announcer. Wow, he still works here. He had always been kind of...egotistic, but generally was a nice guy who always supported your work during your time here. 

Jackson greets the crowd as they cheer, giving his typical introduction for the show. You tune out, observing as the first few performers have their turns. 

At first, it’s nothing you didn’t see during your period here – people singing, dancing, doing cool tricks, that kind of thing. It’s not until Jackson announces a certain group that you become interested. 

“Now, for a new group – give it up for the Treble Makers!”

He darts offstage as a bizarre group of...snake people?...enter the stage, all donning wigs. What the hell? That’s a first. 

While you’re intrigued by their presence, their performance makes you want to claw your ears out. You do your best to pay them no heed until the very end: 

“My poison lies over the ocean! My poison lies over the sea! My poison lies over the ocean! So bring back my poison to me!” 

“Thank the stars,” you mutter as people boo them. 

Once they’re offstage, Jackson slides out to announce the final group. “And last, but not least, The Royal Blacksmi-” He pauses, listening to his earpiece as someone hands him a sheet of paper. “Uh, hold on. This just in! There's been a switch. Taking the stage next is Spin Harmony!” 

Lou’s quartet isn’t performing? That’s not like them at all. 

However, no one comes out initially. You’re beginning to wonder if this is supposed to be that group of guys you saw earlier. If so, what’s the holdup? 

Everyone else begins to think the same thing as hushed chatter stems from the crowd. Seconds later, Jackson calls for the group once last time. 

You’re about to lose hope when Jackson skids to a halt on the stage once more and finally says: “Ladies and gentlemen, Spin Harmony!” 

With that, the crowd erupts into cheers as a rock song begins playing. You’re instantly into the song. For some reason, it Folds into a sense of nostalgia that has you jamming. 

Four ninja twirl towards the audience – a white, blue, red, and black ninja. Initially, they’re dancing in sync, but moments later they find themselves fending off more snake people. They work together to knock the snake people down before the chorus, where they begin dancing again. 

“Jump up, kick back, whip around and spin! And then we jump back, do it again!” 

You observe in fascination as they start spinning into multicolored tornados. You notice that one of the snakes is chowing down on one of the weight bag ropes overhead, but thankfully the white ninja leaps into action and kicks the bag away before it can land on the blue ninja. 

The other three proceed to spin around the stage, knocking down more snake dudes. To the crowd’s amusement, the three stop spinning to reveal themselves in various poses – most notably, the ‘draw-me-like-one-of-your-French-girls' pose Mr. Red is striking. The crowd is eating the performance up, though. The white ninja starts doing the robot – pretty well, too. It’s like his movements are almost too precise to be human. 

Then, more snakes appear from the stage – this time, though, the black ninja jumps into action. 

In awe, you observe as he performs the one dance move you could never conquer: 

The Triple Tiger Sashay. 

“Holy shit,” you breathe, eyes wide. You tried that move so many times, and you could never get it! 

The white ninja echoes your thoughts: “The Triple Tiger Sashay!” 

The crowd is completely silent, everyone stuck in a whelm of disbelief until they completely erupt into cheers. You can’t help but join in, impressed. 

Jackson darts next to the black ninja, bowing to him. “Oh, he did it! The Triple Tiger Sashay! He's danced the impossible!” 

From your position in the crowd, you can’t see the scores. They seem decent until the last judge shows his, to which the crowd begins booing. A few moments later though, they cheer with the same ferocity once more. 

“It's a perfect score! Spin Harmony wins the Blade Cup!” Jackson yells as a few workers carry the Blade Cup over to the ninja, handing it to the black ninja. He holds the cup up proudly as he scans the crowd, seemingly searching for someone. 

You don’t expect his eyes to land on you, though. For a few moments, you’re left frozen as he holds your stare for a few seconds before moving on. You remain silent, suspicions falling into place before you shake them off. No, there’s no way... 

Shaking the thought off, you decide to take one last peek backstage. Maybe if you just double check, you’d feel better? 

You slip past security with ease, knowing a good spot to view the area without being caught. You keep your head down as you pass the performers, slipping into the custodial closet again and climbing the ladder. Once you’re up, you find the hole situated in the wall of the storage area. It leads to the upper beams supporting the roof of the backstage area. You crawl through, sticking to the shadows as you make sure to get a good angle as you observe the ninja. 

The black one bears the cup, handing it to the blue one. “Thanks, but go on and celebrate without me. Winning this doesn't feel the same without my dad being able to—” 

“Cole!” 

Well. There’s your confirmation. If his voice wasn’t enough the first time, then that is. Not to mention that Lou is there too now, walking up to Cole. You notice that he’s using a cane. Is he injured? That must be why he’s not competing. 

“Dad?” Cole questions, turning to face his father. 

“I saw it all, son. I saw it all,” Lou admits, grinning as Cole hugs him. You find yourself smiling before reminding yourself that this is the man that left you without so much as a warning. 

Cole pulls his mask off, allowing you to get a good look at his face. He hasn’t changed much, aside from his stature. He looks stronger than you remember, which makes sense considering that he’s a ninja now. But other than that...his face, his hair...all the same. He’s still your Cole. 

The two speak for a little while before a tall, purple snake with a beard slithers out to them. They, too, speak for a few moments when a nearby hissing noise catches your attention. 

Horror courses through your veins as you spot two snake people on one of the beams across from you. The ninja haven’t noticed them yet. You realize their plan as your eyes settle on the hanging crate that they're standing next to. you quickly try to cross the beams as quietly as you can without losing your balance. 

Please don’t slip, shoes, please don’t slip! 

Thankfully, you’re able to make it to the other side, sneaking up on them. 

Just before you tackle them, they knock a giant, chained crate across the ceiling, smashing into the overhead ceiling light fixtures. They go crashing down. Cole sprints across the floor, able to shield his dad just as the lights hit the ground. 

You gasp as the two snake people eye you from below, getting up from their fall. The purple snake wastes no time in snatching the cup. Then, he eyes the two fallen snakes. 

You realize your mistake as he spots you. 

“Oh, who’s this?” he wonders. Thankfully, the other ninja are scrambling towards the wreckage, too concerned about the people who were just crushed to notice you. You swallow nervously, wondering how you’re going to get out of this. 

It’s then you feel a weight tugging on your ankle, throwing you off balance as you’re pulled off the ledge. You grunt as you hit the ground, trying to break your fall as best as you can. 

A white and red snake flickers into view, laughing as he releases your ankle. They can go invisible?! Not fair. 

You pick yourself up, grunting from the pain as the snakes laugh at you. 

“Doessssn’t feel sssso nicccce, doesssss it?” taunts one of the guys you tackled. 

You don’t answer, instead electing to jerk yourself upward before slamming your elbow up into its jaw. It rears backward, hissing in pain. You’re about to send another attack towards the other one when the purple snake’s tail coils around your neck, lifting you up and squeezing you before tossing you towards the wall. You collide into it harshly, but are able to shield your head with your arms as you fall to the ground, gasping for air. 

The white ninja notices you, immediately coming to your aid. 

“Are you injured?” he questions, helping you sit up. You shake your head, ensuring that your mask is still on securely as you force yourself to stand. 

You immediately turn, darting to the custodian’s closet. Before you leave, though, you watch as a light brown glow emanates from the pile of debris. A low hum resonates through the air before one of the fallen lights is lifted up, revealing a...glowing masked Cole? 

You can’t help but admire him for a moment. He’s literally radiating power, tossing aside that giant light like it weighs nothing. He helps his dad stand. You’re glad that they’re okay, though. That scared you. 

You hear the others saying something about a ‘true potential’. You don’t stay long enough to hear what else they say, though. 

… 

“I say today calls for a celebration!” Lou states, patting Cole on the shoulder as he grins. “Come on, pizza’s on me tonight!” 

“Yes!” Jay exclaims, fist pumping. Kai rolls his eyes, seemingly still a little upset about not getting his True Potential. 

Cole spots Zane hovering near the custodial closet, though. Weird. 

“Zane, what’s wrong?” Cole calls, the four approaching the nindroid. 

“Did anyone else see that woman?” Zane questions as he opens the closet door. “Most peculiar.” 

“What woman? We were too distracted trying to make sure Cole and Lou were okay,” Jay answers. 

“She was fighting the Serpentine, but Pythor got ahold of her and threw her against the wall. She appeared uninjured and hardly fazed, though. From my analysis, she tried to prevent the Serpentine from knocking the fixtures down when Pythor saw her.” 

“What’d she look like?” Kai prompts, folding his arms. 

Zane briefly gives a description, noting the black mask. Jay perks up upon hearing this, whirling towards the others. 

“Wait, I think I saw her earlier, before the show,” Jay comments. “She was just staring at us, like a creep!” 

“Well, if she went in here, then she probably has been a student here at some point,” Lou adds. 

“Why’s that?” Jay wonders. 

“Because of this,” Cole states, approaching the ladder with a frown. “Hey, you guys head back with my dad. I need to look around for a minute.” 

“Are you sure?” Jay wonders. “She was probably just one of those crazy fangirls.” 

“Yeah. The Serpentine may still be around here, and we don’t need them targeting my dad again.” 

“Okay. How about we split up?” Kai suggests. 

That thought gives Cole an idea as he nods in agreement. “Actually, yeah. Zane, come with me. Everyone else head back.” 

The four nod, with Kai and Jay accompanying Lou back to his home while Cole ascends the ladder, Zane not far behind him. 

“Out of curiosity, why did you select me?” Zane wonders when the two make their way into the storage room. 

“Because, I had an idea,” Cole comments. “But first...do you think you can recover corrupt files that even the police couldn’t get back?” 

“It depends,” Zane answers. “I would have to look at it myself.” 

“Okay, I’ll take it,” Cole replies. 

Wow. It’s been forever since he’s been up here. He glances around the room, suddenly overwhelmed with nostalgia as Zane studies the area. 

“Hm...” Zane trails off, approaching a stack of boxes. “This one appears to have been opened recently.” 

“Which one?” Cole wonders, coming over to where Zane is.  

“Corpse Bride,” Zane replies, opening it. 

“What?” Cole questions, scanning the contents. The dress lies on top, much to his interest. Almost like someone had dug it out to look at it. 

“I detect a few recent partial fingerprints,” Zane states after examining the whole box. “Something is most unusual, however.” 

Zane stares off into the distance for a moment. Cole lets him calculate, patiently waiting for him to continue. 

“It appears as if...these prints have been scarred to obfuscate the image,” Zane adds, frowning. “This means that I cannot match these prints in my database at this time.” 

“Damn,” Cole mumbles. “Do you think she’s trying to hide her tracks?” 

“We do not know for sure that she is the one who opened this box,” Zane reminds. “Although, assuming that she did...it is likely. Paired with the behavior I witnessed, it does make sense.” 

Cole remains silent, a strange gut feeling gnawing at him. He hates that he can’t decipher it. All he knows is that he needs to keep searching. 

“What is it?” Zane asks. 

“I have this...weird hunch,” Cole mumbles. “I think we need to figure out who she is.” 

“Why don’t we check the ticket log? We could question the workers as well,” Zane suggests. 

“Good idea,” Cole replies. 

… 

Zane intently studies the logbook, scanning through the names and transactions recorded within. 

“A girl wearing a black mask?” the worker wonders. “Um...if she was here, I didn’t check her in. Did anyone here check in a girl with a black mask? Asking for the ninja.” 

“I did,” a lady says, approaching Cole. “Why?” 

“Do you remember what name she checked in as?” Cole questions. 

“We don’t get names for people who pay at the gates anymore,” she admits. “She paid with cash. I do remember that much.” 

Zane sighs, closing the logbook and setting it on the table. “Then we have no lead here, either.” 

“Okay. Thank you,” Cole says as the two turn toward the exit. “Figures that she wouldn’t pay with card.” 

“Indeed,” Zane agrees. “Where are we going now?” 

“Hold on! Cole!” a voice calls. The two turn, seeing Jackson hurrying over to them. 

“Oh, Jackson!” Cole states, greeting the announcer with a brief hug. “How’ve you been? It’s been a while!”   

“I’ve been doing alright! But man, look at you! You’re a ninja now!” 

“Yeah,” Cole replies with a chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “Oh, and this is Zane, my teammate. Zane, meet Jackson. He does a lot of the host work here.”   

“It is a pleasure to meet you,” Zane states, quickly shaking Jackson’s hand.  

“Same here, bud,” responds the orange-haired man. 

“Oh, while you’re here,” Cole asks, expression darkening as he pulls the folded article out from his gi, holding it out to him. “What can you tell me about her?”  

Jackson studies the picture for a moment before his face drops. “Oh...her. Well...it was weird. A few days before she disappeared, she was...acting really off. She seemed to be...scared, I guess? She was coming to practice, but her behavior was just...not like her. Honestly, I was creeped out too. To see a girl like her, absolutely rattled by something...” he sighs. “I don’t really know why she was so scared. We asked her, tried to offer help...but she never took it. It got to the point where it was interfering with her performance. She would try to come on stage and get her practice in, but she would see something and get too spooked to continue.” 

“What do you mean by ‘see something’?” Cole presses. 

“There were rumors that she was hallucinating,” Jackson answers. “There were moments where she would just stop and stare. Either at her hands, somewhere in the distance or at someone else. The night before she disappeared was the creepiest. She came in acting completely fine. Like she hadn’t been shaken at all.” 

“Why do you say ‘acting’ if she was being herself?” Zane wonders. 

“I didn’t say that she was acting normally. She was acting like she was fine...but was completely out of character the whole night. She was too chipper. Too smiley. Y’know, normally she was a hardy girl with a great sense of humor and a bit of an attitude at times. But something about the way she was acting that night...” Jackson trails off, stare completely blank as he recalls the memory. “I knew something was wrong, but none of us knew what it was. Or what we could do to help. We weren’t sure if it was some kind of mental illness, or a type of coping mechanism, or what. But all of us were thoroughly freaked out by the time she left. It was like this...oppressive atmosphere just left when she stepped out of here.”  

“Oppressive atmosphere?” Cole questions, frowning. “Can you elaborate?” 

“I can try, but it’s difficult for me to explain.” Jack takes a deep breath. “Okay. So...I want to say like a week before she went missing, that was when she starting acting off. Then, I felt the atmosphere change slightly. But, the last night? It was worse. It made some of the other students nauseous.” 

“That’s weird,” Cole mumbles, coming to a realization. “I visited her house last night. I felt the same type of feeling when I went to her bathroom. All of her mirrors were smashed in there, though.” 

Jackson visibly shudders, shaking his head. “Look...between you and me? I think there’s a reason why her case went cold. It’s because whatever took her wasn’t actually human.” 

“You believe that paranormal activity was involved?” Zane clarifies. 

“Yes. Let me tell you...the way she looked at me before she left...it was absolutely haunting,” Jackson recalls. “It was almost like...she was telling me that the real her was gone. Before it even happened.” 

Shivers dart down Cole’s spine as that weird feeling in his stomach grows. He was right – something was off about this whole thing. But what does this mean? What were you afraid of? What, exactly, was after you, and why? 

“Okay, thank you, Jackson,” Cole says. “That helps us a lot.”  

“Of course,” the orange-haired announcer replies. “Any way I can help, I’m glad to do it. And I’m glad you came back, buddy. Theater hasn’t been the same without you here.” 

“Thanks,” Cole states, guilt trekking through him yet again. “I’m sorry I left so abruptly.” 

“Hey, shit happens,” Jackson says. “Not my place to judge. I’m just glad you’re okay. Let’s catch up before you leave town again, yeah?”  

…   

“Potential hallucinations, uncharacteristic behavior, signs of paranoia...” Zane trails off. “I wonder what made her act that way.” 

“I know. That’s not like her at all,” Cole replies, knowing that Zane doesn’t completely understand just yet. He fumbles for the article in his pocket, knowing it would be best to show Zane the article too.

“Where are we going now?” 

“Just a spot down the street,” Cole answers before he finally pulls the news article out from his gi. “Here, read this.” 

Zane takes it, looking the article over. “I see. This was the girl in your father’s picture, yes?” 

“Right,” Cole replies. “I have a feeling that she’s out here. And that we’re close to discovering the truth. By the way, what did you make about that paranormal stuff?” 

“I do not know,” Zane admits. “Credible paranormal research is few and far between. There is not enough immediately available, ergo I cannot comfortably apply it to anything in this case.” 

“Hm, okay. Hopefully the tapes can tell us something.” 

“We will likely need to go to the police station in order to gain access to the file,” Zane states. “I do not think that the average camera would contain that kind of memory length.” 

“Probably not. Hopefully they still have it.” 

“I hope so too.” 

Cole glances around the street, going quiet as Jackson’s story comes back to mind. Was something paranormal really involved? If so, how?  

He’s not sure. Maybe his dad could corroborate Jackson’s account. On that note, Cole realizes that asking around the town might give him a new lead too.   

Then it’s settled. At the very least, Cole has a plan of attack for the time being. Despite the weary feeling he’s been experiencing, he thinks that he may yet be able to discover the truth.   

It only takes about two minutes to get to the spot pictured in the article – the alleyway where you went missing. Cole frowns, an ache surging through his heart as he glances around.   

Obviously, nothing is immediately out of place. He doesn’t really expect to gain much from this, but it can’t hurt to try.   

“This appears to be the camera that captured the video,” Zane states, glancing up at a white camera stationed on the corner of the building. “It does not appear to be functional anymore.” 

“Yeah...” Cole trails off, sighing as he studies the surrounding area. “It’s a dead end down here. I wonder if they checked the other cameras on the street?” 

“I recall that the article stated that they did,” Zane answers. “After all, there are plenty of shops around. But that’s quite a feat – corrupting all of those files to the point where they are irretrievable.” 

“Definitely. That makes me wonder – how did the kidnapper escape with her?” Cole mumbles. 

“Wait...” Zane trails off for a moment, staring at the wall behind Cole. The black ninja steps to the side, wondering what Zane sees that he can’t. 

“What is it?” Cole questions, a surge of hope swelling through him as Zane does his thing.  

“There’s something odd about this wall,” Zane states, frowning as he approaches it. 

“What do you mean?” 

“There is some type of unknown trace substance on the surface. It forms a pattern...some kind of symbol?” 

“A symbol?” 

“I have the image saved to my database. I will be able to print a copy for you to see later,” Zane states. “We should certainly pay the police a visit tomorrow morning. I do not believe they would have been able to find this symbol. Perhaps they have seen it before?” 

“Maybe they have. What if it’s connected to some other kidnapping or crime?” 

“I believe it’s entirely possible. And, if I may ask, what was your relation to her?” Zane wonders. 

“She was my girlfriend while I was a student at the theater. We went to school together here, too.” 

“Can you recall anyone in her life that would have wanted to harm her?” 

“No, not off the top of my head,” Cole answers, trailing off to think for a moment. No one comes to mind. No one he knew would have wanted to hurt you. 

And suddenly, the entire realization crashes down into him. It had seemed urgent before, but now...it’s like a pile of bricks. 

He pulls the polaroid of you and him from his gi, staring at the picture wistfully. Why hadn’t he just told you? Why was he so scared to tell you? Why did he just leave you here? And now, here he is, wishing that he could just hold you and apologize and know that you’re okay, not out there hurt, or in the hands of a criminal – 

A comforting hand settles on his shoulder, snapping Cole turns to see Zane studying the picture too. 

“We will find her, brother,” Zane states. 

“I know, but...” Cole doesn’t finish sentence, tensing as another thought occurs to him. “It’s my fault she’s gone. We always walked home together after rehearsals. I could have been there to help her. I could have-” 

“Cole, this is in no way your fault. The blame solely lies on the perpetrator. Right now, we cannot afford to place the blame anywhere else. We will visit the police station tomorrow morning.” 

Cole takes a deep breath, stealing one last glance at the picture before he tucks it away. “You’re right. We’ll find her, and I can tell her myself...” 

“Precisely. For now, I believe we should return to your father’s house. Perhaps he has a printer we could borrow?” 

“Yeah, I think he does,” Cole replies. “Let’s go.” 

The two continue on their way, sharing related chatter as they leave. The two appear to be completely unaware of you emerging from the roof of a nearby building. Once the two are out of sight, you hop down onto the concrete, ensuring that they’re gone before you approach the alleyway where your life had changed forever. 

After taking a moment to ponder their conversation, you’re led to the realization that this investigation might get trickier. If they successfully provide a new lead to the police, it would be hard for you to show yourself in public unless you made a drastic change to your appearance. 

Your mind shifts to Cole, thinking about his words and the way he had gazed at the polaroid you had been looking for earlier. You find that a tear has slipped, taking a moment to wipe it off. 

He’s looking for me... 

So...he does still care. To an extent, at least. And you could have just jumped down from the roof and taken your mask off, showing him that you’re here. You’re okay, and you missed him, but you had worried...

But you didn’t show yourself.

Why? 

Because...you’ve moved on, and you have to figure out what exactly happened that day. You have to learn the truth of why you were targeted, and what the entity’s end goal is for you. You know you’re still at risk. But why? 

You miss Cole, and you want to talk to him. But you can’t. Not yet. He’d be too much of a distraction for you to finish this case. For now, you’re going to try your best to steer clear of him. Maybe when it’s over you can finally reveal yourself and hear him out too. 

You’ll figure it out. Hopefully you can blast the entity that stole your life to pieces and exorcise its sorry ass back to hell. Perhaps Sam was right about vengeance. Even with his words in mind, though, you still can’t help but want closure before you figure out what direction you want to take with your life. 

Another part of Cole’s conversation is bugging you, too – what symbol was the white ninja talking about? How was he able to find it? 

You think about it for a moment before coming up with an idea. 

“Castiel...if you can hear me, I could use your help.” 

You wait for a few seconds, wondering if you should say more when the sound of flapping wings catches your attention from behind you. 

A smile crosses your lips as your favorite angel stands before you. 

“Hello. It’s been a while.”

𝚊/𝚗: 𝚊𝚕𝚜𝚘, 𝚒 𝚊𝚙𝚘𝚕𝚘𝚐𝚒𝚣𝚎 𝚒𝚏 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚜 𝚠𝚎𝚒𝚛𝚍 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐. 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚊𝚗 𝚊𝚋𝚜𝚘𝚕𝚞𝚝𝚎 𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚊𝚜𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎. 𝚗𝚘𝚛𝚖𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚒 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚌𝚘𝚙𝚢/𝚙𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚋𝚊𝚖, 𝚒𝚝'𝚜 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚢, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚗𝚘. 𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚏𝚞𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚒 𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚍𝚒𝚍𝚗'𝚝 𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚜𝚏𝚎𝚛 𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢.

𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚠𝚊𝚢! 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚔 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐. 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚜𝚎 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚜 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚖𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚑𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚠𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚎 𝚜𝚘 𝚒 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚒𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚢 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎𝚜, 𝚛𝚎𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚐𝚜, 𝚘𝚛 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚜. 𝚊𝚕𝚜𝚘, 𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚓𝚊𝚐𝚘 𝚡 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚛𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚕𝚠𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚗; 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚖𝚢 𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚗𝚏𝚘.

[retphienix]

Well.

It was bound to happen. I genuinely haven't had unexpected technical difficulties with recording in just long enough for it to strike at the worst moment, the final fucking encounter lol

What you see above is my recording cutting off and just, ending, for no reason in the middle of the fight.

Cool cool.

I beat it.

Only took the one more try, it was really fun actually.

I planted most of my team in the center since from there both my gunner and hunter can target 2 of the wisp spawns AND the final spot after you kill the wisp without moving.

I can salvage the beginning of the run but screw it, I'm upset that you really only get so far as me maybe destroying the hand before it cuts, so here's the team adjustments:

I swapped my gunner's secondary to Item since I wasn't going to risk a non-save-state-abuse tinker on this but they ended up not really using any healing items, luckily enough.

Black Mage brought along white magic which was vital for keeping my Hunter, Fusilier, and Dragoon alive. He was also my only victim, as I mistakenly had a "Half holy" damage item equipped to him, so he was really bad at healing himself- he made it to the final phase at least if memory serves, and he kept everyone else topped off through the entire thing so he did his job well :)

Red and Luso rushed the right side, destroyed the hand then camped the spawnpoint while the rest of the team slapped the center spawn and the ranged units sniped the left spawn.

The finale was just Red and Luso rushing to slap it while the ranged spammed from below.

I missed a funny moment where I got the core to 100 hp, Luso slaps for like 200 hp a round and he rushes up to melee range, but I see this weird context option of "Take this!" and I figure alright, maybe it's a flashy finishing move! Let's do it!

It's not.

That's the context move to deactivate the weird rocks which are part of his gimmicky attacks.

I wasted a turn because even the description for context actions just says "Context action" and doesn't fucking tell you what it does >:(

But my anger was short lived because the next unit who could attack was my hunter, who happened to have Ultima ready to go, so instead of Luso dual wield slapping the final boss for game we had THE ONE AND ONLY TRUE MVP hitting him with Ultima :)

Now, for the finale, as it finally is :)

(Not my recording, but here's the ending)

So, I already said most of what I wanted to say over the last few posts on the game tbh, but I figure it's nice to wrap it up in a neat bow.

FFTA2 is...

Pretty good.

That's about where I'd judge it lol.

The thing is, as I've said, that's astounding to me- because I resented so much of my time spent in FFTA *AND* TA2 isn't some grand reform of TA, it doesn't go back to FFT, it doesn't remove every flaw I hated in TA, it doesn't change the entire formula- it just adjusts things, and that's why I find it interesting just how different my experience was because it didn't adjust a ton.

But it adjusted the /right/ things for my personal tastes which resulted in me actually having a great deal of fun in this one.

Classes didn't get reworked from TA, but skills were far more available (RNG loot rolling in the bazaar) and learned far faster than I recall in TA, which made my experience go from 10 years of squire slapping with no neat moves to very very quickly mastering jobs, learning new skills, and getting to actually enjoy using late game jobs instead of only getting to play with them at their weakest.

Hell, equipment in general played such a different role in this one than TA- in TA I spent the entire friggin' game with trash tier equipment- not because I didn't HAVE better gear- but because the better gear didn't have anything worth learning on it and I was slogging through painfully slow skill learning.

I Beat That Game practically unequipped because when you spend 99% of the game swinging a broadsword because you need to learn tackle you forget to equip excalibur for the boss fight.

I've been using good or even great gear pretty much the entire playthrough in this one. Sure, when learning a new job you often toss on weaker stuff, but you often master a skill in 1 job- this includes dispatched jobs- and this covers your entire party- so skills in general just felt way less tedious to me. Since I'm Not Going To revisit TA, I can't tell you if this is all in my mind- or I lucked out- or what. Just that in TA it felt like a slog to me- I have plenty of posts from my playthrough saying as much- and in TA2, nope!

Good time :)

But as I've said a few times now, TA2 feels like what TA wanted to be, a simplified FFT built for a portable platform.

I found TA "Dumbed down and boring" with a story that actively annoyed me. I found TA2 more "streamlined" if anything, and since it leans so heavily on the side content and that side content is broken up into 300 or so side quests that can all be easily digested in small chunks- it really flourishes as a handheld title!

The story is still pretty lackluster- but instead of annoying me it mostly just mildly perplexes me.

Like it doesn't want to be here, it wants to be a story-less game. It's kinda awkward.

Because almost every "story" moment in this game is either pointless, the party saying "Let's just go fuck off!", or foreshadowing to things that don't matter or happen-

like why was the baron's assassination a thing- Literally No Reason! Could have just been a big red sign that said "You'll recruit Vaan and Penelo soon" and it'd be just as plot relevant.

Why was Khamja or whatever a thing? No reason! Just wanted a name to float around; It never mattered, it never matters, it means even less than the side content mini-stories around the duel clan or the newspaper.

Who's the big bad? Don't worry about it, she'll show up 3 times in the story, do pretty much nothing, and then she info dumps that she has a book too and is evil about it.

The story in this game is very.... lacking in presence. But since the entire game is practically shouting in your ear that the point is the side content and collecting gear- it works- it's fine- I'm placated.

Hm. I expected to say more, as if this wasn't too much already. But the conclusion I can give is pretty simple and a bit nice :)

FFTA2 is a pretty good game.

I don't love it.

It's not my new favorite or anything.

But considering just how raw a deal it got in terms of gaining my appeal, just how much I hated TA and expected to hate this game but felt obligated to try it since FFT is my favorite game and it'd be rude to just ASSUME it's shit.

FFTA2 surprised me.

A LOT.

Because I rather like this game.

I enjoyed "almost" every moment I had with it. There were some annoyances, mostly early on. And there are so design decisions (mostly carry overs from TA) that I just really don't gel with, like you don't need 5 classes that are basically the same class but for different races, it doesn't actually increase the variety when all of them are the same more than they aren't x.x

(or that bad time I had with pre-defined RNG lol)

I had a lot of fun in this one, and I got to have REALLY fun TRPG experiences as my party began to flush itself out- something it didn't really do in TA.

FFTA2's is pretty good. I'm glad I finally tried it.

Neat :)

[butchladymaria]

ive died to maria like 30 times now and she STILL wont visceral attack me. lesbophobia at its finest 😒

[yelena-bellova]

Safe Haven: tfatws!Bucky Barnes x fem!reader - Chapter Six

chapter five - Chapter Six: Ten Minutes - chapter seven

Series Masterlist

Plot: Y/n, Sam, Bucky and Zemo investigate around Riga for any sign of the Flag Smashers, Y/n and Bucky spend some unconventional time together.

Word Count: 6.9k

Warnings: spoilers for episode. 4, a little language, flirty Bucky (which is a warning in and of itself, Walker’s an asshole, Y/n is still a badass, sloooow burn, lil’ bit of spice 🔥

A/N: First off, I just want to thank everybody for all the kind messages/asks/comments you've left on this series. I honestly didn’t expect this kind of response when I started writing this and have been blown away with each chapter. Seriously, it means a lot! 🥰 Okay so I’m not gonna lie, this chapter’s a little slower than usual whereas next chapter is going to be...well, if you’re reading this you’ve seen the episode so you obviously know lol. But this chapter sets up some pretty big shit so it’s not useless, enjoy!!

----

I felt like a bit of a romantic cliche as I threw myself facedown on Zemo’s living room couch, hot off the heels of my realization about Bucky. But seeing as we didn’t have any leads and the Super Soldier wasn’t back from his “walk,” I felt I had earned it. “Hey,” I felt the weight of a jacket land on my back, “Whatcha got going on in that head?” I chuckled into the pillow, if Sam could see the thoughts bouncing around my brain, he’d have his wings on in a flash and would be flying around the city hunting Bucky down. Luckily, Bucky wasn’t the only thing I was thinking about. I turned on my side to see him sitting on a barstool in the kitchen, “I don’t think I give you enough credit for what you do.” “What are you talking about?” 

“I knew that avenging wasn’t some cushy day job but,” I swung my legs over the couch and sat up, “I never realized how hard it actually was and this isn’t even one of the harder missions!” Sam smirked and raised his brows, “An army of Super Soldiers isn’t enough for you? You want more?”

I rolled my eyes, “I’m just saying, you’ve faced a whole lot worse. I tangle with a couple bounty hunters and I’m gonna be aching for weeks,” I rose with a groan, eliciting a chuckle out of Sam, “Don’t get me wrong, I like what we’re doing, but I definitely underestimated how challenging it was.” “You’re doing a better job than you think,” Sam said, “I know yesterday was hard on you, but you’re handling all of the really well. I’m proud of you.” I made my way over to him and put an arm around his shoulder, “Still regret bringing me?” “Nah,” he locked an arm around my waist and pulled me into his side, “It’s nice having you here, it’s like having a little piece of home with me.” Since we were in grade school, Sam had been one of the only constants in my life and sitting in the middle of Latvia chasing down Super Soldiers, I had never been more thankful for him. I knew that becoming Captain America was out of the question but if ever there were a Cap that I would follow, it would have been Sam.

The front door and the bathroom door opened at the same time, revealing Bucky back from his walk and Zemo from his shower.

“Well, the Wakandans are here,” Bucky announced as he came to the center of the room, “They want Zemo. Bought us some more time.”

“Were you followed?” Sam asked, both of us unwrapping our arms from around one another. “No.” “How can you be so sure?” Zemo asked, staring out the stained glass windows.

“Cause I know when I’m being followed,” Bucky replied, coming to stand across from me on the other side of the kitchen island.

“It was sweet of you to defend me at least,” Zemo said. 

“Hey, you shut it,” Sam turned his attention to the Baron, “No one’s defending you. You killed Nagal.”

“Do we really have to litigate what may or may not have happened?” Zemo replied.

I leaned up against the island and squinted at the man, “There’s nothing to litigate, we all watched you shoot the guy.”

“Sam, Y/n…” We both turned to face Bucky, staring down at his phone intently. “Karli bombed a GRC supply depot.”

“What?” I said breathlessly, “Were there any casualties?” 

“Eleven injured, three dead,” Bucky read the article, “They have a list of demands and are promising more attacks if those demands aren’t met.”

Zemo walked around the island to grab a pack of cookies, “She’s getting worse. I have the will to complete this mission. Do the three of you?” “She’s just a kid,” Sam said calmly, defending the young girl so many saw as a villain.

“You’re seeing something in her that isn’t there,” Zemo waved him off, “You’re clouded by it. She’s a supremacist. The very concept of a Super Soldier will always trouble people. It’s that warped aspiration that led to Nazis, to Ultron…to the Avengers.” “Hey, those are our friends you’re talking about,” Sam stepped quickly.

“The Avengers, not the Nazis,” Bucky followed up with. 

Sam continued, “So, Karli is radicalized, but there has to be a peaceful way to stop her.”

“The desire to become a superhuman cannot be separated from supremacist ideals,” Zemo said, “Anyone with that serum is inherently on that path. She will not stop. She will escalate until you kill her,” the room’s silence became a whole lot heavier, “Or she kills you.” “Maybe you’re wrong, Zemo,” Bucky spoke up, “The serum never corrupted Steve.” “Yeah,” I agreed, peeking over my shoulder at Bucky, “But it didn’t corrupt you either.” Zemo picked up a ring shaped cookie on his finger and pointed to Bucky, “Touché, but there has never been another Steve Rogers, has there?” He popped the cookie in his mouth and shrugged, turning away from us to make further use of the kitchen. 

“Well,” Bucky made his way to the living room, “Maybe we should give him to the Wakandans right now.” “And you’ll give up your tour guide?” Zemo asked, searching through cupboards. 

“Yes,” Bucky answered harshly before sitting himself on the couch, leaning his head back and shutting his eyes.

“From my understanding,” Sam said, “Donya is like a pillar of the community, right? So when I was a kid, my TT passed away-“ “Your-“ Bucky squeezed his eyes shut and leaned forward, “Your TT?” “Yeah, my TT, yeah,” Sam replied plainly. 

“Who is your TT?” Bucky annoyedly and confusedly asked. I chuckled at the exchange from beside Sam, “His aunt. The whole neighborhood had this big ceremony, it lasted like a week.” “Maybe they’re doing the same thing for Donya,” Sam finished.

“Worth a shot,” Bucky shrugged.

“Your TT would be proud of you,” Zemo said to Sam before tossing him a wrapped candy, “Turkish Delight, irresistible.” ——

We were out the door soon after and heading to Donya’s last known location, a refugee camp in the downtown area.

“Shame what’s become of this place,” Zemo commented when we arrived, “When I was young, we used to come here for fabulous dinners and parties. I knew nothing of the politics of the time, of course, but I remember it being beautiful.” It was hard to picture the beige building ever having been beautiful, the setting was so dismal and grey. It was filled with children and workers, refugees, who all collectively looked worn down. The GRC poster that hung on one of the walls that showed smiling families with their mission statement ‘Reset. Restore. Rebuild.’ was a stark contrast to what those words actually delivered.

“We’ll take a look around upstairs,” Sam said, gesturing to me before turning to Bucky, “See what you can find out and keep an eye on him.” 

I left with Sam, climbing the quiet building’s staircase and wandering down the hall. Sam headed through an open doorway that led to a sewing room. “Hey, kid,” he called to one of them, “Excuse me,” he approached one of the only ones who hadn’t run out of the room at our presence, “You heard of Donya Madani?”

“Um,” the girl said, rising from her seat and making for another room, “No. Sorry, no.”

We stood there dumbstruck in the suddenly empty room, it wasn’t until Sam caught the Flag Smasher’s handprint symbol on a sewing box and pointed it out to me that the locked lips made sense. I took the lead and navigated through the crowded rooms, spotting another young person leaving at the sight of us. “Excuse me, do you know the name Donya Ma-“ The boy shut the door on me before I could finish my sentence, I turned to Sam who was close behind me. “Something’s not right,” I mumbled, walking in step with him further down the hall. We finally stumbled upon what looked like a classroom, one man crouched was next to a desk helping a kid and a table with two others who didn’t bolt at the sight of us. 

“Excuse me,” Sam announced our presence, “Do you know a woman by the name of Donya Madani?”

The teacher stood to his full height, “We’re not refugees, for we have nothing to seek refuge from. We’re internationally- displaced persons, for what it’s worth, and we don’t trust outsiders.”

“No, I understand,” Sam stepped forward, “I’m not from here, but I have a pretty good track record of helping out.” “I know what happens when people say they’re going to help out,” the teacher tiredly stated, “Nothing. The Global Repatriation Council promised to send more teachers, supplies. That was six months ago.” “What’s your name? I can make a call,” Sam offered immediately, ever the helper.

“I know who you are, but I can’t trust you. I’m sorry,” the man dismissed him, grabbing his other two students and ushering them out of the room, “Let’s go.” The silence was sobering for us both, we may not have found anything about Donya but we’d certainly stumbled upon something of importance. And as we left the building with our heads metaphorically hung, I could feel that he was just as impacted as I was by it. “I didn’t realize it was so bleak,” I said as we went down the stairs, “The government’s done a great job of painting a different picture for people like us.” 

“That could be said for a lot of things,” he replied, “But no, I didn’t think it was this bad either.”

We rejoined Bucky who was watching Zemo intently as he sat in front of a grouping of kids, a pile of candy in between them. “This is starting to feel like a dead end,” Sam commented.

“The hell is he doing?” Bucky accompanied.

“And why in Latvia does nobody raise an eyebrow at a stranger offering kids candy?” I observed as Zemo stood, approached the kids once more and came back to us. “Cute kids,” he smiled, leaving the three of us to share an unconvinced look after.

——

We returned to our hideout shortly after, defeated and all too aware of how fast the clock was ticking. 

“Well, I got nothin’,” Bucky said as the three of us made our way to the couch, “No one’s talkin’ about Donya.” “Yeah, it’s because Karli is the one fighting for them,” Sam replied, “And she’s not wrong.” “What do you mean?” Bucky’s tone was low and exhausted, but I could have sworn that his eyes brightened for a millisecond when I plopped down next to him.

Sam sighed, “For five years, people have been welcomed into countries that have kept them out using barbwire. There were houses and jobs. Folks were happy to have people around to help them rebuild. It wasn’t just one community coming together, it was the entire world coming together. And then, boom,” he snapped his fingers, “Just like that, it goes right back to the way it used to be. To them, at least Karli’s doin’ something.” “He’s right,” I chimed in, memories of how the world was for five years flooded my brain, “Things were messy but they were…one. Everybody came together because we needed to, there was less room for segregation or prejudice. When things went back, the government made some really bad decisions. And for those of us who weren’t blipped, it was difficult to watch. I’m not saying that I support the Flag Smashers but I do understand why Karli’s doing what she’s doing.” “You really think her ends justify her means?” Bucky’s furrowed brows bounced between Sam and I, “Then she’s no different than him,” he gestured to Zemo who was making tea, “Or anybody else we’ve fought.” “I didn’t say that. She’s different,” I argued, tucking my legs under me and twisting to fully face him, “She's not fighting for word domination or something, she’s fighting for those who’ve lost everything. She’s just...misguided in her approach. ”

Zemo came and set the tray of cups and tea down on the table in front of us, a little too quiet. “That girl,” Bucky addressed him, “What’d she tell you?” The Baron kept up his silence as he thought to himself, eyes flicking between the three of us. “The funeral is this afternoon.” I blinked and awaited the rest of the answer, “That’s all you want to say?” “You know the Dora’s coming for you any minute,” Bucky stated, a bit of amusement in his eyes at the thought of the Wakandan warriors taking him away, “In fact, they’re probably lurking outside right now. Keep talking.” “Leaving you to turn on me once we get to Karli,” Zemo hummed, “I prefer to keep my leverage.” Exasperatedly, I looked over to Sam who looked just as done with the Sokovian royal as I was. Bucky rose from beside me and circled around to face Zemo, ripping the glass heeled in his hands and launching it at the wall, it shattered upon impact. “You wanna see what someone can do with leverage?” Bucky growled, I had to ignore the pit in my stomach that developed anytime Bucky’s voice reached a low decibel.

Sam and I were up and ready to deescalate the situation, him stepping behind Zemo and me placing a hand around Bucky’s metal arm. “Take it easy,” Sam said cautiously, “Don’t engage him. He’s just gonna extort you and do that stupid head tilt thing.” I turned in towards Bucky, the close proximity allowing me to talk softer. “He’s not worth it,” I muttered, his head moving slightly in my direction as I spoke. 

“Let me make a call,” Sam said, walking off and slapping Bucky on the shoulder as he left.

My loyalty to Bucky prevented me from leaving until I knew he was alright and wouldn’t pummel our only lead to a pulp. As his stare lessened in intensity, so did my grip till my fingers ghosted over his bicep. “You want some cherry blossom tea?” Zemo awkwardly asked. “No, you go ahead,” Bucky answered with contempt, walking away with me following close by. 

“So what are we supposed to do?” I asked as Bucky and I walked through the luxurious apartment, “Sit on our asses until he decides to give us breadcrumbs of information?”

“He’ll talk, eventually,” Bucky grumbled, “Even if I have to make him.” Why I was finding this side of him attractive, I couldn’t make sense of. Shoving that aside, I took the more practical approach. I gripped his arm to stop him from going further, “He wants to screw with your mind, don’t let him.”

Bucky bit down on his bottom lip and dropped his line of vision to the ground, silently admitting that I was right. There was something so strange about how easy him and I had become around one another so fast. I could level with him now like I’d known him for ages and he’d actually listen to me. The oddest part was that it felt so natural.

“Now,” I dropped my hand from his body and went to place it on my hip, “Sam’s on the- ow!” 

“What? What is it?” Bucky jumped to attention, his metal hand instinctively reaching for my arm.

The pain had stemmed from my abdomen, radiating down to my waist. I pulled up the hem of my shirt and looked down to see an ugly purple bruise on my side. “Shit,” Bucky mumbled, bending down but quickly popping back up with an innocent gaze, “Can I…?” “Yeah,” I quickly replied, watching him crouch down to get a look at the injury, one of his metal fingers running over the colored skin with a featherlight touch. I prayed that he didn’t take notice of how my breath hitched when the cool Vibranium made contact with my body.

“How did you get this?” he asked with a laser-like focus on my stomach. “Must’ve been from yesterday in the shipyard,” I eked out, we were in close enough proximity that he was starting to cloud my head, “One of the bounty hunters had me in a death grip at one point.” 

Bucky shook his head, his tongue darting out to wet his lips as he rose back up. “I’ll be fine, it’s just a bruise,” I said, pulling my shirt back down when a lightbulb suddenly went off in my head, “Although…” “What?” “I think I’ve got an idea on how you can work out your aggression and this,” I pointed to my side, “Can happen less.” I made my way down the hall, trying to find the right door that would lead to the right room. Turning each knob, I finally found a set of french doors that led to a terrace with a view of the beautiful city. Expecting and correctly guessing that Bucky had followed me, I spun around to face him. “Teach me how to fight.” “Are you kidding?” Bucky’s scrunched in disbelief, “No.” “Come on,” I pleaded, “I think we can both agree that I’m lacking in combat skills and if we’re going to end up fighting more Super Soldiers, I need to be more prepared than last time. Plus,” I pointed a finger at him, “You’re pissed and you need to let it out.”

Bucky scoffed, “I’m not going to let it out on you.” Rolling my eyes thoroughly, I created a force field to separate the two of us, “I’m pretty sure I can handle myself. But if you want to let me get my ass kicked, that’s fine…”

I watched as he let out a single chuckle, “You’re really gonna be like that?” “Yes,” I replied, trying to contain my smile, “I’m really gonna be like that.

He took leisurely steps toward me and started to circle me. I turned with him to keep the force field between us, smirks spreading across both our faces. “Alright, fine. As long as you promise not to go full throttle on me,” he gestured to the hands that had blue energy flowing from them.

“Fine,” I thinned my eyes at him, absorbing the force field back into my body, “But you better keep that arm in check.”

We separated from each other and I walked to my corner of the terrace to remove my jacket. When I turned to see Bucky doing the same, my eyes fell to his fit torso that was threateningly to bust the seams of his tight black t-shirt. In the Latvian sun, you could see the outline of each muscle of his chest and each vein that bulged in his arms was highlighted. Since the first time I’d gotten close enough to admire him, I’d had no shame in admitting to myself that Bucky was attractive. Now that I was actually starting to fall for him, there was a nervousness that came with appreciating his roguish good looks. I shook my head and dragged my gaze away from his body, trying to focus on his eyes as we walked towards one another. Not that I was any better off, they were just as enticing as the rest of him was… “Do you know how to punch?” he asked, I held up a fist and he examined it, “Okay, so that’s a no.” He placed his hands on my hips gently as to not disturb my bruise and turned me around, “Bring one of your feet back and out a little,” he instructed, I listened and he took a step back to accommodate me. “Now,” his hands moved to lightly grasp my arms, “Tuck your elbows into your body.” I swallowed hard as I followed his directions, his chest was now almost flush against my back and it was more than distracting. The closer Bucky and I got, the more muddled my thoughts became until he became the only clear one. With him pressed against me, his hands gently holding my arms and his breath fanning my shoulder, it was a miracle I could remember my own name.

“Now squeeze your abs, as long as it doesn’t hurt too much,” he said softly, inching a little closer as if to make sure I could hear him properly. Goosebumps I hoped he didn’t see erupted across my skin, I did as he said and ignored the pain it caused me. Bucky could have given me any instruction and I’d have followed, I was completely under his spell. 

His hands left me and he came around to stand in front of me, “When you swing, you want to move with your whole body. You’re gonna push off with that foot,” he nudged my furthest ankle with his boot, “And turn your hips with it, but don’t over exaggerate or else you’ll lose your momentum. Your hand,” he took my improper fist into his palm and positioned my thumb below my fingers, holding onto it as he looked back up, “Should look like this.” My lips parted as I watched him mold my hand to his liking, my heart rate picking up as our eyes met. Bucky let go and held out his flesh arm to act as my target, smirking once again, “Alright, give it all you’ve got.”

I swung my fist forward and met his hand, only succeeding in making contact and nothing more. For a second I forgot that I was fighting a Super Soldier.

“Good,” he commended me nonetheless, “Again.”

I readjusted my stance and brought my fist forward again, I still couldn’t move him.

“Again.” Smack.

“Again.”

Smack.

“Again.” Smack.

“Again.” With hardly a thought, I focused my energy out of my fist as it collided with Bucky’s palm and sent his arm back in a mist of blue. I pulled my elbows back into my torso, gasping at what I’d done but not entirely unhappy with the results. Bucky looked just as surprised, turning to me with widened eyes and his pouty lips shaped in an ‘o’.

“Did you know you could do that?” he asked.

“I don’t know, the idea just came to me,” I answered, “Can I try that again?” Bucky held out his palm again and I repeated my attack, his arm jolting back upon impact once again. “I think I may have just made this a fair fight,” I said slyly, challenging him with one raised brow.

“I think you’re exaggerating a little,” he shot back, I could see the mischievous gleam in his eye that accompanied his words.

I shrugged innocently, “Guess we won’t know until we test it.” 

Bucky’s wandering tongue darted out to the side of his mouth as he smiled, “I only taught you how to punch, but alright.”

He took a step closer to me, slowly and playfully putting out a hand towards me to act like he was going to attack me. I held my hand up and built a small force field to block him. Going a little faster, he raised his metal hand and I repeated the action of shielding myself. We kept going until him and I were moving across the terrace with me creating force field after force field to block Bucky’s attack. When my back hit the ledge, I shot up into the air and landed a few feet behind him.

“Is that a fair fight?” Bucky asked as he approached me.

“No, it’s not,” I sighed and lowered my head, looking back up with a smile, “It’s actually a little too easy.”

Bucky started throwing punches, me blocking each one with my palm radiating energy to lessen the impact of his hits. I was so focused that I didn’t see him lift his foot until I had landed on my back with a groan after he’d swept my leg. He pinned me, holding my arms above my head and gripping my wrists so I couldn’t attack. I squirmed a little, unable to move underneath his weight that simultaneously crushed me and sent a thrill through me.

“You were saying?” he smirked, our faces only inches apart and his lips just a little too alluring to continue ignoring. This was a different Bucky than I had become used to, he was playful and flirtatious. We were getting down to who he really was when we weren’t dealing with such serious circumstances.

Taking away the temptation to close the distance between our mouths, and eager to point out he’d made a mistake in pinning my wrists, I lifted and aimed my hands at him, firing two blasts at his shoulders. The grip he had on me was lost as his full weight landed on me, I quickly locked my legs around his and used my energy to flip us so Bucky landed on his back with me on top of him. I pinned his hands at his sides, two steady blue streams flowing from my fingers. Bucky tried to wrestle out of my hold to no avail, I took great joy in leaning over him and giving a shit-eating smile.

“You’re right,” I shook my head, “It’s not fair.”

Bucky breathily chuckled and stopped fighting, instead letting himself be defenseless underneath my body. At some point, the laughter and grins faded and the reality that I was straddling Bucky became very real. If I released my hold on his hands, I wondered what he would do. Would he scurry to lift me off of him and leave as quick as he could? Or would he dare to put his hands on my waist like he had in Madripoor, pulling me into him as close as he could? Nervously, I absorbed the energy back into my fingers and freed him, his hands laying limp where they were but his blue eyes held no intention of looking away. We rested there, trying to catch our breath and not daring to make a move that would shift either of our bodies or the moment. “Bucky, Y/n, where you at?” I heard Sam’s voice drift down the hall.

Stolen moments, that was all I could get with Bucky. I had only just discovered how I felt about him, I didn’t know how to handle it but I knew that when I did get time with him, it never lasted long enough. I unhappily levitated off of him and landed on my feet nearby, leaving him without a word to open the door and find Sam.

I looked down the hall and spotted my brother walking down the hall in search of us. “Hey,” I called, he turned around and changed his course, “Any leads?” “Sharon’s got access to a satellite, she’s gonna keep an eye on the camp,” he said, “And Zemo agreed to take us out to meet someone who’s got information on the funeral. Where’s Buc-“

Bucky appeared at that moment, his jacket back on and covering his build while carrying mine in his hand. He handed it to me, his eyes darting up to meet mine with some sort of meaning in them, “Did he say where he’s taking us?” “No,” Sam answered, “But at least he’s talking.” 

The three of us headed down the hall and out to the living room where Zemo was waiting on us like a parent waiting on their children to get ready to leave. We left and entered the city once again, me trying to keep a little distance between Bucky since my cheeks were still burning. The memory of how he’d felt under me was still all too real and I needed to have a clear head for what was about to go down.

We hadn’t been walking for more than ten minutes when an unfortunately familiar voice sounded off in our vicinity. “Karli Morgenthau is too dangerous for you guys to be pulling this shit.” “Ah, how’d you find us now?” Bucky called across the street, John Walker and Lemar Hoskins hurrying down a set of steps toward us. “Come on, you really think two Avengers can walk around Latvia without drawing attention?” Lemar replied.

“No more keeping us in the dark,” Walker seethed, “You could start by telling us why you broke him out of prison.” I over animatedly shrugged my shoulders and looked between Sam and Bucky, “You told us to stay out of your way so that’s what we did. Can’t have it both ways, Walker.”

“And he broke himself out technically,” Bucky answered Walker’s original question.

“Oh,” Walker was practically spitting with rage, “This better be an unbelievable explana-“ 

“Hey,” Sam stepped in and placed a hand on his chest, “Take it easy before it gets weird.” Walker promptly stepped back and took a breath.

“I know where Karli is,” Zemo offered, stepping to the side along with Bucky and ready to continue on our path, before being stopped by Walker.

“Well, where?” “All we know is, it’s a memorial,” Sam answered, “So we’re gonna intercept her there.”

Zemo gently moved Walker’s hand off of him, and led the way, Bucky, Lemar and I following. “That means civilians,” Lemar said, “High risk of casualties.” “We won’t let that happen,” I replied, “And if they’re fellow funeral goers, neither will Karli.” 

“All right,” Walker said, joining us along with Sam, “We’ll move in fast, take her by surprise.”

“No, I wanna talk to her alone,” Sam protested. As much as I wanted to stop my brother in the street and question the validity of his sanity, we were a united front against Walker and I couldn’t drop it. I’d wait for my turn to voice my concern.

“I’m not losing her again,” Walker pushed back. “Look, the person closest to her died, she’s vulnerable,” Sam argued, “If there was ever a time to reason with her, it’s now.” “What?” No. Wait, no! No! Stop. Hold on,” Walker jogged to get ahead of us, his sidekick following suit, “Stop, okay? I think we’re way past reasoning with her, unless you forgot that she blew up a building with people still in it.” “Sam, you walk in there cold, she could kill you,” Lemar may have had a problem with the plan, just like Walker, but he came at it from a different angle. That I could give him credit for.

“And if I go in hot and the op goes wrong, more people will die,” Sam countered confidently. “You’re gonna let him do this?” Walker addressed Bucky, “Are you gonna let your partner walk into a room with a Super Soldier alone?”

“He’s dealt with worse,” Bucky replied, “And he’s not my partner.”

“I used to counsel soldiers dealing with trauma, okay?” Sam stated, stepping around us to stand in front of Walker, “This is my wheelhouse.” “Yeah, I know. And I know those soldiers, which is why I know this is a bad idea,” Walker shot back. “Wait, John,” Lemar stopped him from going any further, “If he can talk her down, it might be worth a try.”

We stood, anticipating whether or not we’d have to fight harder or if Walker would agree to let Sam handle the situation his way. He scoffed and shifted his weight between feet before turning to Zemo, “We’ll deal with you later.” “I’m sure it will all come to an agreeable conclusion,” Zemo replied and gestured down the path, “My associate is just up ahead.”

We looked ahead to see the same little girl the Baron had been offering candy to earlier in the day. I fell in step alongside Sam and lowered my voice, “Are you sure about this?” 

“Did you act like you agreed with me just to piss of Walker?” he asked, equally quiet.

“…Maybe…” 

He pulled his hand out of his jacket pocket and we bumped fists, “Trust me, this is our best option.” 

The five of us watched Zemo approach the child, handing her something and guiding us to follow where she was leading. She took us to an older factory, bringing us in through the back door of the boiler room. “Karli’s in there,” Zemo said.

Sam broke from our group and headed for the doorway while Walker slammed Zemo up against a furnace. “Hey,” he called to Sam, “You got ten minutes,” he handcuffed Zemo, “Then we’re doing things my way.”

With Sam gone and me not there to protect him in case things took a turn, there wasn’t anything to do but wait. Walker paced, Lemar stood and Bucky stared. I was leaned up against the brick wall that held Zemo, trying not to think of all the ways the plan could go wrong. Karli was young, quick to help but also quick to fight and the sight of Sam may be enough to trigger her into attacking before listening. But Sam wasn’t usually someone to get cocky about something he knew he couldn’t handle and I trusted his judgement. I just wish that I was trusting it in a less dangerous situation. 

“Y/l/n.” I turned to Zemo, “Huh?” “In Madripoor, you said your last name was Y/n Y/l/n,” he continued in a hushed tone so nobody else would hear.

“So? What’s so interesting about my name?”

Zemo paused like he had just come to some conclusion I wasn’t going to be made privy to. “It simply sounds familiar.”

“What does that me-“ “Hey!” Walker exclaimed, staring me and the Baron down, “What’re you two talking about?” Zemo turned away from me like we’d never been speaking, the confusing conversation dissolving in the already tense air. “Nothing,” I lied, pushing off the brick wall and brushing past Walker, “That concerns you at least.”

I landed at Bucky’s side, he nodded his head towards Zemo and looked back to me. “What was that about?” “I’m not sure,” I answered, there was something unsettling about how Zemo’s gaze rested on me, “But I don’t think it was nothing.” We waited in another thirty seconds of silence before an antsy Walker spoke up again, “No, no, no, no, no, this is a bad idea.” “It hasn’t been ten minutes John,” Bucky said, “Just sit tight.”

“Don’t do that,” Walker looked over his shoulder at us angrily, “Don’t patronize me.”

“Then don’t start whining because you’re getting fidgety,” I replied, annoyed with his lack of patience, “Sam knows what he’s doing and if you let him do it, this could all go a lot smoother than Munich.” 

He walked away, staring at the wall in deep thought before coming towards us. “I’m goin’ in,” he stated, punctuating his words with a punch to the shield. 

Bucky stepped forward to block his path, I quickly stuck a hand in between their two bodies and created a force field to further state our point. My apprehension about leaving Sam to handle himself had lessened when he’d assured me he had it under control but I wasn’t sure if there was anything that would get Walker to back off. 

“This is all really easy for you, isn’t it?” Walker grumbled, staring Bucky down, “All that serum runnin’ through your veins. And you,” he skimmed his hand over the unpierceable shield I’d made, “With that X gene of yours. Your brother,” he pointed at Bucky, “And your partner need backup in there. Do you really want his blood on your hands?” The images that Sharon had planted in my head were filled in by Walker, it suddenly became all too easy to picture Sam’s lifeless body on the ground. Just like the one I’d left in the ship yard. No, Walker was not in my head, I wouldn’t allow it. The man who had threatened me with the accords, who waved the name of Captain America around like a free ticket to do whatever he wanted. He could manipulate whoever he wanted, except for me. “You’re not getting past us, Walker,” I firmly stated, bringing his widened eyes to me, “Sam’s got this.” There weren’t many people that stood up to Captain America without a second thought, and the irritated expression on his face reflected that. “So that’s how it’s going now? You’re giving the orders?” “If it means giving Sam a better chance of ending this, then yes,” I countered, digging my heels further into the ground.

He looked me over, debating his options, “Fine.” After observing him for a few cautious seconds, I dropped the force field and stepped to the side of Bucky. No sooner than when my hand fell to my side did Walker shove past Bucky and storm up the stairs, the two of us quickly rushing to draw him back. “Walker!” Bucky shouted.

I aimed my hands out to pull him back in, the blue energy barely leaving my fingertips when Lemar came up behind me and pulled my hands down to my sides. I tried to wrestle out of his grip but he didn’t let me go until Walker had safely gotten up the stairs to a point where I couldn’t see him. “Are you serious?!” I cried as Lemar shot ahead of me up the stairs leaving me to follow pathetically. “Captain’s orders,” he replied over his shoulder as we hurried to catch up to the heated, impatient joke of a Captain. 

“Karli Morganthau, you’re under arrest,” I heard Walker announce, spotting Bucky taking the stairs two at a time behind him.

As I entered the room, my hopeless eyes met Sam’s surprised set. Karli was just as shocked, the redhead asking Sam if it had been the plan all along to bring us in. Lemar pushed in front of me and Bucky, acting as a barrier to prevent us from interfering any more than we had. Bucky attempted to shove his arm away just as Karli landed a punch to the shield, sending Walker and Sam flying back into a table. I used my energy to shove Lemar back, freeing Bucky and I to jump into the fight. Bucky bolted after Karli who was making a run for it while I helped Sam to his feet. “We said ten minutes!” Sam exclaimed, glaring at Walker’s retreating form. 

“I tried,” I said as we made for another staircase to try and catch Karli on the other side of the building. We went through a series of various halls, there was no way to make heads or tails of which way was right. Sam tugged me and led me up another set of stairs with no luck in finding her. “Shit,” I mumbled. On the opposite side of the landing was Bucky, looking just as confused as us. “I lost her,” he said defeatedly. “This place is a maze,” Sam panted.

I took a look at our surroundings, spotting a window and quickly forming an idea. “She could be out of the building by now. Bucky,” I ran to the nearest window, “Help me out.”

Catching on quick, he raised his metal arm and landed a whopping punch, shattering the glass and leaving a gaping hole. I took a few steps back and took a running start, ignoring the sounds of Sam’s protests and diving out the window. I threw my hands out to my sides and expelled energy, ceasing my fall and allowing me to shoot up higher in the air. I landed on the building’s roof, taking a look at the city below me and trying to spot Karli’s mop of red hair. I stayed atop the ledge searching until I heard gunshots from inside the building, dropping and flying back in through the broken window immediately. My blood ran cold with fear, Sam and Bucky weren’t where I had left them. I rushed down the closest hall, hearing a commotion from a room somewhere in the building and praying desperately that they weren’t in the middle of it. I wasn’t sure if I’d ever been so relieved to see the two of them as when I’d spotted them after turning a corner. Upon hearing my boots slapping against the ground, Bucky and Sam turned, both their faces showcasing the same relief. “Thank God,” Sam breathed, waiting for me to catch up with them before tearing off again.

We ran through the building until we found the one hall we hadn’t been down yet, we entered to find quite the scene. Walker was standing over an unconscious Zemo, vials of the super serum smashed on the floor and no sign of Karli.

“What did we miss?” Sam asked, still a little breathless from our chase.

I wasn’t a naturally angry person, but the irateness I felt with John Walker was enough to make my face warm with rage. He had proved that arrogance and impatience were his main modes of operation. He had no problem giving the orders but following someone else’s lead was nearly unbearable for him. His eagerness to jump headfirst into battle may have served him well in aspects of his career, but in this case it had ruined everything.

“You said ten minutes,” I gritted out, staring down Walker from our position on the stairs. His eyes didn’t carry an ounce of remorse for what he had done. Without another word, I turned on my heels and stormed out of the room without waiting for Sam and Bucky. We’d come so far only to lose to a completely preventable situation. I’d never worked with Steve professionally, but I knew that he would have never have sabotaged a mission because of his ego. Just one more reason why John Walker could never truly be Captain America.

----

A/N: I find myself having to reel myself in when writing Walker or else I’ll let my hatred of him show through a little too much lol. Let me know what you thought or if you’d like to be tagged :)

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[queenmuzz]

Happy Mother's Day

I'm terribly sorry, this is supposed to be a happy day between mothers and their children, but you know how I am... Note: Set Between DMC4 and DMC5

Nero’s legs wobbled with numbness as he cautiously got off the bike, making sure that the motorcycle wouldn’t tip. He really didn’t want to bring it back to Lady with a ding in it. But when she had offered it to him to borrow, he couldn’t resist taking it for a spin. The vehicle was a beaut, lovingly taken care of, and...very, VERY fast. How that waif of a woman was able to hold on for dear life, he had no idea.

After he had steadied himself, he looked at his destination and frowned, looked down at the paper in his hand, and looked back up. The address was a match, but this place, right smack in the middle of downtown Redgrave, looked like a dump. A decrepit skeleton of what had once been a magnificent manor that looked abandoned for decades. Even though it looked like a prime location for a demon hang out, Lady had insisted that Dante wasn’t on a job. Nero had gotten the feeling she really wanted him to find the elder demon hunter.

Confused, and more than a little curious, he passed through the broken down wrought iron gate towards the house.

The overgrowth was tall and suffocating, but Nero noticed, just before what had been the entrance, a new path going to the left had been created, freshly trampled grass going around the corner. Nero didn’t see any other sign of disturbance, so this is probably where Dante had gone. So, he trudged along, wondering why of all places the man would have come here.

He pulled around the corner, and instantly came to a stop. Unlike the rest of the property, this area here had been recently maintained, the grass recently shorn (Nero had a sneaking suspicion it was Rebellion’s doing) A large oak tree, with bright green newborn leaves, cast a lovely dappled shadow upon the ground. And beneath the aged trunk was Dante, his back to Nero, facing a pair of granite stones. It took a few moments for Nero to realize...not stones… gravestones.

“Lady,” Dante didn’t turn around, “I told you that I didn’t need you here. I’m fine…” Nero caught the scent of flowers, specifically roses fluttering in the breeze. The young man awkwardly coughed, startling the man in red.

“Sheesh!” Dante rapidly turned around, revealing that the scent came from a bouquet of red roses in his hand. Well, nearly all red. In the middle of the bundle, was a single blue rose. “Didn’t expect to see you here kid! Heard Lady’s bike rumbling down the street, so I thought she was sticking her nose where it didn’t belong.” “Yeah,” Nero said, scratching the bridge of his nose. Had Lady used him as a tool to get to Dante? “You weren’t in the office when I came by, but Lady let me use her bike, and gave me directions to...this place.” He didn’t know the significance of this area, but it was probably very important to Dante.

“Did she eh...?” he murmured, slightly annoyed, slightly resigned for some reason.

“Yeah, Kyrie told me I needed to get out of Fortuna, to take a break from rebuilding Fortuna. And the only place on the Mainland that I knew about, was your place.” That was partially the truth. Nero had also wanted to ask if Dante would be interested in a business idea that Nero had come up with: A mobile franchise using the Devil May Cry name, centered in Fortuna, but he had the feeling that this was not the time nor place to bring up business matters.

Dante chuckled, and looked down at the roses he was holding. “I guess Lady didn’t tell you why I was here.”

“Nah, and I didn’t ask.”

“Welp,” Dante rolled his shoulders, the joints popping. “Might as well get this over with. You know what day today is?”

Nero was perplexed. It was just another Sunday in May. He shrugged.

“Ah, maybe they don’t do it in Fortuna. Here, today is Mother’s Day. Where kids and adults spend time with, and thank the women that raised them, and well… I’m visiting my mom.”

Nero felt the pieces of the puzzle falling in the place. Fortuna’s version of Mother’s Day was during the autumn, and Nero hadn’t really cared much about it, considering his background. But to Dante, the day was more significant.

Suddenly, he felt the yank on his sleeve, and before he knew it, Dante had dragged him towards one of the gravestones, the one that was older, and slightly more worn. It was simple, no words on it, but there was flowering climbing roses carved along the edges. The one stone beside it was similar, but newer, and there were no roses, just intertwined climbing thorny stems.

“Hey Mom, I’d like to introduce you to that kid I was telling you about. This,” he pushed the boy further in front of the stone proudly, “is Nero.” He stood there, partly awkward and partly proud at the thought Dante had talked to his mom about him. Dante hadn’t mentioned his mom much, but Trish had helpfully filled in the blanks when Nero had asked why Dante had a pic of her on his desk.

“Oh, that’s not me...that’s Eva, Dante’s mother. It’s complicated, but I was created by Mundus to look like her, to lure him into a trap many years ago. She was very important to him, and while I don’t quite understand it, I know that she loved him dearly she loved the bot-”

She’d been interrupted by Dante coming in the office, and Nero hadn’t pried further.

Nero tried to come up with some words “Uh...hi.. It’s nice to meet you.” God he sounded like an idiot.

Thankfully, Dante swooped back in. “She was a wonderful woman. You’d think she was soft and demure, but the moment you pissed her off, she was as hard as steel. I can still feel her pulling on my ear when she caught me sneaking into the cookie jar before supper.” He chuckled and winced as he rubbed his earlobe, “A fantastic cook, a wonderful violinist and… an irreplaceable mom.” Dante’s voice trailed off, and for a moment all that could be heard was the rustling of the wind through the grass. Strange, despite never meeting her, with no connection to this family, Nero had a feeling he...belonged here.

“She would have adored you…” Dante murmured softly, startling Nero. He turned to find the older man with a wistful, almost melancholy look on his face.

“Huh?”

Instantly, that softness, that rare glimpse of something seldom seen, was locked up behind a steel grin. Dante laughed. “It’s nothin, just me talking without thinking. So, what about you? You’re on the Mainland now, best time to talk about your mom.” Dante must have seen his sudden scowl, and placed his hands up in surrender, realizing this was a sore spot. “Doesn’t have to be your blood mom. Can be any woman that helped you grow up!”

“Well,” Nero mused, “There was Cecilia, Kyrie’s mom,” he explained, “she was a heck of a woman. When Kyrie brought me home after I’d gotten into a scrap with the other kids at school, when they took my lunch, after she made sure I was okay, she gave me a ham and cheese sandwich on two pieces of fresh bread. She was a baker by trade, you see. And every day after that, when school was day, Kyrie would bring me to her, and Cecilia wouldn’t let leave until I couldn’t eat another bite. She was always looking out for me afterwards. Making sure I got my school work done, mended my clothes, and then when the Orphanage didn’t have clothes my size, she got Credo to get me measured up so she could get me several sets of clothes. But most of all…” he continued, trying to figure out why his eyes were getting all watery. Must be from the newly cut grass. “Unlike the rest of the island, she never judged me, never made me feel like I didn’t belong. I…” he took a deep breath, “I would have been proud to be called her son-in-law. But she never got the chance to see Kyrie and me grow up, to become a couple… Maybe if I had been there when the demon attack...” he trailed off, feeling a bit lost and alone. He couldn’t feel the same pain as Kyrie or Credo had, but there was pain nonetheless. He was surprised by a firm hand on his shoulder, and looked up to see the older man giving a smile of sympathy.

“I kinda feel where you’re coming from. My mom, she died in an attack too…she died protecting me from demons.” That smile vanished as Dante looked down at the gravestone...not this mother’s, the one beside it. “Our positions should have been switched” he murmured softly, grief on his face, “things would have been so much different, so much better...” Nero was perplexed. Was Dante wishing he had died so his mom had lived?

“Well, if she’s even half the mom you claim her to be, she’d probably be happy that you’re alive, strong enough to protect yourself, and others….” Nero tried to say what he was feeling, and it seemed to be what came from his heart. It seemed to do the trick, because Dante had perked up, and that mask of a grin was nowhere to be seen.

“You’re a good kid, Nero.” Dante said, and rubbed Nero’s head, laughing at the halfhearted scowl that earned. Dante looked up at the sky, the noon sun shining happily down. “Welp, I’m famished.... How bout we get our asses- I mean butts, sorry mom, back to the office and order some pizza. I’m pretty sure Lady owes me a couple boxes of them, for what she’s done…” Dante glared at her bike, barely visible from their location. Nero didn’t quite understand, but he’d never turn down free food.

“You go ahead, bring that bike back to her, tell her I’ll be there a bit later, just have to do a…” Dante looked down at the pair of graves. “A few more things to spruce up the place.”

Nero nodded. Obviously, Dante deserved some privacy, this was his mother’s resting place, so he turned to leave, his stomach already growling at the thought of pizza. He slightly worried he was turning out like the old man. Next thing he knew, he’d be having questionable tastes in fashion, and have a penchant for shooting old men in the head without explaining beforehand that the guy was trying to take over the world. Strange, he thought as he got on the bike, and looked back at the manor. It didn’t look as decrepit and creepy as before. Instead of a carcass of a house, it was a dignified memorial of happy times long since gone. A place that seemed to welcome him to return as often as he’d like. As he drove off, he remembered that he’d forgotten, in all the emotional unloading, to ask about the other gravestone….

------

When the sound of Lady’s engine had finally faded away, Dante let out a breath that he’d been holding in for longer than he thought. Damn Lady, trying to get him to break down and tell the kid the truth. Well, there had been a few close calls, a few words slipped out, but that façade had been maintained, with the kid none the wiser.

He looked down at the bouquet in his hands, and then at the grave before him. “He’s a great kid, like I said.” He sighed, “I know you’re probably disappointed at me for not being truthful, you were always a big stickler for ‘Honesty’ but…” he pulled out the single blue rose out of the bouquet, and spun it between his fingers. “Bad stuff happens to us Spardas. You, me…” he placed that blue rose before the newer gravestone, “Vergil.... I just don’t want that to happen to him. The less he knows...the better. He deserves the stability that we never got...” He placed the roses down, and knelt down, eye level to the grave.

“I hope, wherever you are, that you’re at peace, and that he’s with you, so you can tell him what I never could, that he was loved just as much as you loved me….” His forehead touched the cool stone, and a few drops of water splashed onto the crimson blooms.

“Happy Mother’s Day”

[jawritter]

His Heaven

Request: Heyy I love your ABO fics and I have a request for you. You can always say no to this if you’re uncomfortable. I’ll completely understand and I’m very sorry. Can you do one with Alpha!Dean x Omega!reader. Where the reader is on a supply run and she gets assaulted and tortured by a monster and when she gets back to the bunker somehow, she only allows her Alpha anywhere near her and refuses help from anyone else. Dean takes care of her and helps her heal.

Pairing: Alpha!Dean x Omega!Reader

Word Count: 2683

Warning: Kidnapping, injured!reader, ABO dynamics, smut, unprotected sex, talk tourchour, hints of a pinic attack, language, scenting, reclaiming, marking, mentions of assult, trauma induced by tourchur. I think that’s it. Sorry If I missed anything.

Beta’d by the amazing @leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid! Also a big shout out to @deanwanddamons  who is currently working on our 1k binge read! You both are awesome! 

A/N: As always please do not copy my work! Feedback is golden! Hope you all enjoy this one!! 

Want more? Check out my masterlist!!

**MASTERLIST**

Pulling at the restraints that were holding your arms above your head you curse yourself for not having seen this coming. 

You knew that demon that escaped Dean and yourself in Kansas City would come back to bite you in the ass one day, you just didn’t think it would be this soon. Alas here you are, in a dark wet basement, tied to a pole in the center of the room with a variety of tortuous instruments that the damn thing had been using on you for the past two days strown randomly throughout the room on tables.

You knew that you were just bait, that you were nothing but a lure for Dean. The demon knew that your Alpha would stop at nothing to save you from this bastard, and you also knew that’s when the demon would try and kill him. 

You couldn’t let that happen, you refused to let it happen. You’d die trying to get out of here before you let that happen. 

Sure, Dean was your Alpha, and yes Dean was the one by nature and biology that protected you, but your biggest fear was Dean would get hurt protecting you.

Pulling on the restraints one more time you prayed with everything in you that by some miracle they would break. 

Nothing.

Your arms, legs, and back were littered with little cuts, and gashes; courtesy of the demon that was holding you captive, and every movement seemed to sting in new places. 

Letting your weight sag you notice that the rope holding you to your pole gave with your weight some, whereas it wasn’t earlier. So you pulled further and again, until soon more of the rope loosened, allowing you to pull your arms lower. A nail along the wall snagged the thick rope causing it frayed. 

With two more heavy pulls the rope that had you bound finally broke free, and you fell to the floor with a thud. 

Thanking Chuck that your capture seemed to have not heard you, you pulled yourself up from the floor using the table in front of you. 

The room was dimly lit by the sun coming through a window that at one point had been painted, but was now started to fade, and allow little rays of light to filter through. 

As quietly as you could, you climbed on top of the covered furnishings and lawn equipment that lay askew across the walls, and pulled at the window. To your great surprise, and relief it was open. 

Hoisting yourself up on your injured forearms you pulled your battered body through the window, and onto the grass outside. Taking only a moment to see your surroundings in order to tell your Alpha where this bastard was hiding, you break for the tree line, and away from your personal hell that you’d been in for three days.

Dean wouldn’t have even known you were missing, he had been on a hunt in Ohio, Wendigo from the looks of it, and wasn’t due to be home until today. You had gone on a supply run so that you could make him his favorite pie when he got home. You knew your heat was coming, and it was somewhat of a tradition between the two of you for you to pamper him the full week before your heat hit, since he was going to spend the following days taking such good care of you.

Dean always insisted that it was unnecessary, and he enjoyed helping you through your heats, that he was there for you, but you still felt the need to pamper him, and he didn't fight you on it much.

You never would have guessed that the demon would have jumped you as soon as you got out of the car, before you were even able to get to the grocery store. 

You also didn’t expect him to be so stupid as to not take your car keys from your pocket, and hide your car. Then again he probably wanted Dean to find it. 

You thought you were okay, you made it back to your car, and into the Bunker garage without so much as batting an eye. You had been a hunter your whole life after all, and being kidnapped and torture just came with the territory, but as you put the car in park, and set back against your seat, a whole new feeling hit you all together. 

Fear. 

Shaking, you opened the door to your car, and almost fell out of it onto the concrete floor of the garage. Your breath was coming in short, sparaitic spurts, and your chest felt like it had a thousand pound weight on it, that was pressing harder and harder with each passing breath that pushed through your burning lungs.

You began to try and crawl your way into the bunker when you heard the door burst open, and Sam’s heavy footsteps coming towards you.

“Y/n?” he yelled upon seeing you laying on the floor, running towards you, yelling for Dean. 

You knew that Sam would have died before he ever laid a hand on you to hurt you, but the demon that had trapped you had been an Alpha, and something in the strong Alpha scent that wasn’t your Alpha sent you reeling over the edge. 

A deep growl rumbled in your chest, and you backed yourself against the back tire of Baby, baring your teeth at him like some wild animal, with every intent of it signaling to him if he tried to get to close or touch you, that you were prepared to go as far as ripping his arms off to protect yourself. 

Cas and Dean came to a running stop right at the side of Sam, who was now backing up with his hands in the air. 

Cas held his position, but Dean didn’t hesitate in dropping to his knees, and pulling you into his lap, his scent surrounding you and comforting you for the first time in days. 

“What the fuck happed? Who did this to you?” Dean asks you, his teeth gritted and low growls falling from his chest. 

You couldn’t answer him, your focus on Cas as he made his way over to you, before he could even kneel down to check your injuries a growl ripped through your body that even made your Alpha jump in surprise. 

“Y/n, I can heal you if you let me.” Cas said calmly, but you were feeling anything but calm at the moment and wanted no one but you Alpha to touch you. 

“No,” you growled through gritted teeth, and Dean pulled you closer to his chest, allowing you to bury your face in his neck, breathing in his scent deeply. 

“Baby girl, you have to tell us what happened.” Dean said, running his hands through your matted hair in an attempt to calm you as the tears you had been holding back all this time made their way to the surface. 

“That demon from Kansas city jumped me as I got out of the car. He kept me trapped in the basement for days, a house just at the end of 11th street with a busted up white fence, Dean...I’m sorry I shouldn’t have left the bunker without you, I just wanted to..” 

Dean shushed your rambling apology by pressing his lips to yours. A peace seeped through you in a rush of relief at the close contact. 

Breaking the kiss,Dean turned to silently communicate to Sam what needed to be done. Sam in turn nodded and then got into your car with Cas, both of them going to rid the world of that asshole once and for all, and leaving you under the care of the only man you would let touch you. 

Dean lefted the two of you with ease, making his way into the bunker and into the showers with you as if you weighed nothing at all. You kept your face buried in his neck the whole way, your body trembling with exhaustion, and pain as he made slow calculated movements so as to not jostle you around too much.

Dean sat you on the ground next to the bathtub, leaving you just long enough to start the water filling in the tub before coming to strip your filthy clothing from you, or what was left of it anyway. 

You numbly let him do with you whatever he wanted. You had no fight, and you had no strength left in your body. All your fight had been used up to get back to your Alpha, and now that you were here, you had to trust him so he would protect you. You wanted nothing more than to sink into your bed, with your Alpha’s arms around you, where you knew you were safe. 

Lifting you carefully off the floor, Dean laid you down in the bathtub that he’d filled with Epsom Salt to sterilize the wounds that covered your body, thankfully none of them were too deep, but you still hissed at the burn before letting the hot water relax your aching muscles.  

Once Dean had you settled in the bath, he moved to strip himself of his own clothing, before setting in behind you, wrapping you in his arms, and cupping water over your hair as he washed away all the evidence of what was done to you aside from the cuts that littered your skin.

He took his time in silence, washing your hair, and making his way over your whole body with you in his hold. 

Once he was done he got you both dried off and carried you to your shared bedroom, putting you down in your bed before retrieving one of his flannels to slip over you body, wrapping you up completely in his scent before he climbed in and pulled you into his embrace. His lips tracing over yours in a comforting, calming way that only he could. 

“I failed you, Omega. This is my fault that this happened to you, if I would have killed that son of a bitch in Kansas City he would have never hurt you.”

Shaking your head furiously you place your lips to his as the first barely there cramp of your heat rolled through your body. Letting you know of the impending need that would surely be there by morning. 

Dean scensed the change in your scent, and pulled you closer to him, nuzzling himself into your neck and breathing you in deeply. 

“Dean, this was just as much my fault as it is yours. I know you don’t like me going on supply runs while you're not here, and I did it anyway against better judgement.”

Dean huffed, clearly kicking himself for not being here to protect you when you were captured. 

“Either way, that bastard will be dead as soon as Cas and Sam get ahold of him, and then we will never have to worry about that again.” 

The thought of the way you acted in the garage hit you, and you buried yourself impossibly deeper into Dean’s hold. Dean, sensing the change in you, lifted your chin a little with his finger, eyes searching yours. 

“I will never let anything like that happen to you again, Omega, I swear it.” 

You nibbled on your lip and nodded your head, allowing Dean to comfort and reassure you. Knowing that’s what you needed more than you wanted to admit. 

“I’m sorry that I acted like that with Sam and Cas, I know they were just trying to help,” you mumbled against his throat as his hands instinctively wandered your body, pressing deeply into your back, and pulling you closer to his warm body as another mild cramp rolled through your abdomen. 

“It’s okay baby, they understand.” 

Dean’s fingers press into your hips, and pull you closer to him, his erection pressing into your thigh as he hoists your leg over his hips, pressing himself against your bare center. 

“Right now I don’t want you to worry about none of that, that son of a bitch is as good as dead. He can’t hurt you again. You're safe here with me. Now let me make my baby girl feel better, I can sense your heat is close, and I want to make love to my girl one more time before it hits.”

You needed him, you knew you needed him. There was something special about an Alpha and his Omega. It was more than needed, it was deeper than heats and ruts, it surprised biology, it was that unexplainable bond. A bond that went beyond all reasoning and understanding, a bond that when connected could heal all wounds, mental and physical, it didn’t matter it was greater than that. It put together broken pieces, and made things that were once severed whole. 

That’s what you needed more than anything right now, to feel whole. 

Dean rutted his leaking cock through your rapidly soaking folds, your body reacting in a way only he seemed to be able to make it. The spongy tip created the most delicious friction against your aching bundle of nerves as he drove you higher and higher, grinding himself against you, layering you with his scent as his teeth grazed your mating gland, and over his mark, a shiver running down your spin, and landing deep in your core. Your velvet walls contracting around nothing as your hips start to roll with his on their own. 

“Alpha, please, I need you.” you begged him, nails digging into his shoulders as he continued to tease you with his cock. Not giving you what you need, but giving you just enough to drive you crazy.

“I got you, Omega, I know what you need.” he purs as he breaches your entrance and with one full thrust seats himself deep inside of you. The stretch of him catching you by surprise, and stealing your breath form you as sheer pleasure rips through your body. Your mouth falling open in a soundless scream. 

Dean’s hands slipped around your back and under his flannel as his lips make their way down your throat, giving you a moment to adjust to him before he started to rock his hips into you. Keeping himself buried deep in your wet heat. His knot forming quickly as the coil in your belly wound tighter and tighter with each roll of your hips with his, your bodies working together as his pelvis provided just the right amount of pressure against your aching clit. 

Before you had time to even warn him you were coming undone in his lap. Your walls clamping down around him as your orgasm ripped through your body, a scream of his name falling from your lips as your release triggered his, his teeth sinking deep into your mating gland, reclaiming you as his own, and sealing your bond deeper than you ever thought possible, your walls milking his knot as his body locks with yours, and warm ropes of cum spill deep inside your womb. 

Laying there locked together with your Alpha you let the peace that surrounded you lull you to a peaceful sleep. Dean watches over you, garding you, protecting you, like he would do until the day he died. 

He made a promise to himself to never let anything hurt you again. 

“Mine.” he mumbled into your hair, as you nuzzled into him in your peaceful slumber. 

The life that you both lived almost guaranteed that one day one would be taken from the other, but right now, with you lying here in his arms, he was in heaven, and if his battered, torn soul never made it over there, he’d cherish these moments even in hell. This was all that he'd ever need, and he’d protect you with is life. He knew it would take a while to get you over this attack that you didn’t deserve, but he’d be there with you every step of the way until you were whole again.

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Tag List: @screechingartisancashbailiff @thecreatiivecorner  @aflamboyanceofgays @vicmc624 @busy-bee-angel-misska @justanotherwinchester @deanwanddamons​ @imabitch4jensen​ @rvgrsbrns​ @bi-danvers0​ @onethirstyunicorn​ @i-love-superhero​ @akshi8278 @lyss-dw79 @magssteenkamp @lemondropirwin @squirrelnotsam @hobby27 @spnbaby-67 @mrsjenniferwinchester @defenderrosetyler 

[i-do-trash-fanfictions]

Thera's Journal Entry #61

(This one isn't as good as the others, but at least I posted something.)

I flipped a dagger of light in my hand. I sat at the base of a tree, under the shade, as Crow stood in the clearing in front of me, showing off by shooting the painted targets on the trees.

It was nice, being in the sunlight again.

Crow finished. He had hit a few bulls eyes, but a few did not quite make it. They were close though, so I had to give him some credit.

"Alright. Your turn." He said, walking back to me as he tucked his gun into his holster.

I stood up and unsheathed the Ace of Spades. I didn't bring it out to the field a whole lot, but I still brought it out to practice every now and then. I spun quickly, shooting each target. Every bullet hit its mark, the red circle in the center, in just a quick minute.

"Show off," Crow muttered.

I only shrugged and went over to him, my hand held out.

Crow sighed and deposited thirty glimmer, which I put away into my pocket. We had been going for quite some time and had a bet over who would hit the most bullseyes.

"Come on. Let's go for a walk." I suggested as I slid my gun into my holster and nodded into the forest.

Crow caught up to me and we walked side by side. Eventually, he reached over and took my hand. He seemed nervous, though I could tell he was trying to hide it.

"No one's out here if that's what you're worried about," I told him.

"I feel like someone is out here." He said. "I know it sounds crazy when you say it aloud, but it's just that feeling that I'm being watched. That we're being watched."

"No one ever really goes out here. I think we're alright."

"I sure hope so."

We walked for a while after that, until suddenly Crow stopped. Glint appeared after sensing his Guardian's worry.

"What? What is it?" I asked, looking around as one hand reached to my hand canon.

Crow was staring off into a part of the forest. Finally, he said something. "There." He pointed. "Someone's over there, sitting on that rock."

"A Guardian?" I asked.

"They have a cloak, so maybe it's a hunter."

"Do you have your mask?"

"No. I left it on your ship."

"Stay here."

I let go of his hand and walked over to the person. They never once turned around when I approached.

"Hello. I'm a Guardian from the Last City. Who are you and what are you doing out here?"

"I call myself the Ranger nowadays. And as you can see, I'm sitting on a rock."

The person Rouge had told me about.

"Why are you sitting on a rock?"

"It's a nice rock. High up too. And if you stare out there," They pointed. "You can watch a few squirrels while they get their breakfast. Or lunch. Or maybe brunch."

I stared at them. They had a helmet on so I couldn't make out any features.

"I hope I'm not being annoying. I don't mean to be. Just here to enjoy the view."

"One of my friends. They saw you out here before."

"Ah, right. Rouge, I think her name was. I don't think she liked me very much, with me being on her terrain and all. I left pretty quickly after she went off. She was a bit scary."

"Rouge can be sometimes. But what are you really doing out here? And are you a Guardian? If so, why aren't you going to the Last City?"

"I'm only out here to enjoy some scenery, as I was saying before. And I do still consider myself to be a hunter."

"You didn't answer my last question."

"I don't want to."

"Alright then," I said with a sigh.

"Hey, aren't the people working with the Fallen now? Mithraks and his gang?" The Ranger asked.

"Yes. How did you know that?"

"Just do. Hey, found a skiff way back there. Crashed." They told me, standing up and gesturing to another part in the forest. "Down below a cliff. You and your buddy might wanna check it out. I best get goin. Ain't gonna do me much good to stick around here. Whatever shot down that skiff might still be lurkin around." They jumped off their rock.

I looked towards where they had pointed, and sure enough, I could make out a bit of smoke coming from that area. I went to turn towards the Ranger again, but they were gone. I ran back to get Crow.

"It was this person called the Ranger. They said there's a Fallen skiff back there. We should check it out."

"Can we trust them?"

"Not sure, but I know a friend who's met them before, and they seemed friendly enough."

We began our way towards the smoke from the skiff, then leapt down the cliff, doing another jump just before we hit the ground as to not break our legs. Crow started to run towards it and knelt down. I walked up behind him. Many dead Fallen littered the ground around us. A few were burned from where the fire from the ship had enveloped them.

But many, many were around the area, as if they had begun to run. They had not died from the crash, but something else.

I went to one and rolled it onto its back. I gasped as tears welled in my eyes. Clutched in its arms was a child, also dead. Both were from bullets in their heads.

I didn't realize Crow was behind me until I heard him mutter a curse, and then stomp off. We both knew it had been Guardians who did this. He was going off to say more choice words, and he didn't want me to hear.

"Sometimes I wonder if the Guardians are even good guys, Scout," I said to my Ghost.

He gave a sad whirr. "I can't believe it was Guardians who did this. If I could, I would say anything to give us the benefit of the doubt, but it is far too obvious. No one else would be around here to attack them except maybe other fallen, but I highly doubt they would attack their own kind. Many Guardians do fly their jumpships out here from time to time. That is probably how they shot the skiff down." He spoke solemnly.

"Thera? Thera come here!" I heard Crow say with a sense of urgency in his voice.

I ran over to him. He stood, holding something in his arms.

"Look." He turned it over to me and I peered at it.

Four tiny eyes peered right back.

"Oh," I looked around and spotted two dead Eliksni, very close to each other. "Oh, no. The poor thing."

"What will we do? We can't leave it out here." He stated, staring at me as he waited for an answer.

"No, of course not. Here, let me see it." Crow handed the hatchling to me and I held it in my arms.

"I have a friend. An Eliksni of House Light who already had a child of her own. Trildir. We can go to her."

Crow scouted around for a bit, with the hope there may be other survivors. I went to the ship, and he came soon after. I handed him the child as I took control of the Queen of Hearts. In no time, we had returned to the Last City, covered still in darkness.

We transmitted to the Annex and (after Crow put on his mask, just in case) then went to the hidden area of the City where the Eliksni stayed. I walked past many Fallen and went straight to Trildir's home. It had changed since I had last been there. We had visited many times in the past few days.

A banner with the House Light symbol hung on the wall, and there was a nice carpet on the floor. It was only a single room, and a cot was in one corner, with a nest of blankets on a crate. For Ralis, I was guessing.

Trildir was in there, luckily, and was startled when we arrived.

She took a single glance at the child in Crow's arms and motioned to the futon in the room. Trildir then pulled a curtain to close of the doorway from prying eyes.

"Where did you find her?" She asked immediately. Crow passed the hatchling to me.

"You- you wouldn't want to know."

"I do. Yes, I do."

I sighed. "A skiff, shot down from the sky. All the other Eliksni were dead. She's the only survivor."

"I do not mean to seem... oh, what is the word?" She clicked for a moment. "Rude. But, was it light-bearers?"

I sadly nodded. "It could be no one else. And I have no idea which ones did it either, otherwise, I would be going after them right about now."

"I want to believe that someday we Eliksni and you can live in peace, but Guardians such as those make it so hard to do. Here, let me see the child." Trildir held out her top two arms and I put the child in them.

"Yes, definitely a girl." The hatchling clicked at her. "And most likely hungry."

Trildir went over to a shelf and produced what looked like a meat scrap. The child ate it quickly and Trildir gave her a few more.

"I will take care of her." Said Trildir with a few clicks.

"It won't be a problem? You already have one child-"

"I know of mateless mothers like myself who have six hatchlings. I believe I can handle two."

Trildir's mate had been one of the Fallen to die when their skiff crashed.

"Thank you," I said to her.

Trildir began to give the hatchling a liquid I could not name.

"She will need a name. Would you like to pick one?" She asked, looking at Crow and I.

"Um, I don't know of any Eliksni names," I told her. I didn't want to pick out a name that would seem silly to the other Eliksni.

"You can choose human names. Misraakell's daughter was named after an old friend of his, an awoken."

I thought for a moment. I looked at Crow to see if he would suggest anything but he only shrugged. I turned back to Trildir.

"Would Sora be a good name?" I asked.

"Yes, I think it would suit her well."

Sora had fallen asleep in Trildir's arms, so she laid her in the crib of blankets to rest. Then she went back to Crow and I.

"I hope you don't mind me asking, but where is Ralis?" I asked her.

"Oh, she is with a sister of mine. She does not have a mate of her own but loves hatchlings. She will gladly take care of any if it is needed." Trildir explained. Her gaze shifted to Crow. "You have not introduced me to your friend." She stated. "I am Trildir, but I am sure Thera has already told you this."

"My name is Crow." He introduced himself.

"It is very nice to meet you."

A dreg suddenly pulled back the curtain and chattered something in Eliksni. Trildir spoke back, and the dreg left. She then turned her attention back to the two of us.

"Sora will be in good hands. Because of your visit, I have forgotten what I was doing. I must return to my job, and I will leave Sora with my sister and Ralis. Thank you for coming to see me."

Trildir took Sora in her arms and went out of her home.

"I know she'll be safe," I told Crow as we stood up.

"I like her." He stated.

"She's very kind, and not like the rest of the Eliksni. She isn't afraid of Guardians."

"Crow, Crow where are you? Why are you not in the H.E.L.M?" Came from Crow's comlink.

"Is that Osiris? Oh sh-" I exclaimed.

"You're with Thera aren't you? Get back to the H.E.L.M, now."

"Yes, I'm headed there now," Crow responded, giving me a look. We both knew we were in for it.

"And bring Thera too. If she keeps sneaking you out-"

Crow shut off his coms.

"You're going to get in more trouble for that," I said with a laugh.

"We both are. Now let's go so we can get that lecture over with."

[emerald-amidst-gold]

I blame no one but myself

Since I saw @little-lightning-lavellan​ create THIS I had to do it for Fane. You have a glorious mind, just so you know! I had to do this, and as a result, I splurged. Holy fuck. Strap yourself in folks!

***

You have selected _____ to join your party! Is your OC a Companion in the Dragon Age series? What would it be like for a player to select them to join their party for quests (or romance them, perhaps? 👀)

(yes, I will always use this picture until the day I die. Fight me.)

Fane Lavellan (born 9:17 Dragon) is a Dalish warrior and hunter from Clan Lavellan, but abandoned the clan at the age of 20. He feels no kinship with his own clan or the Dalish as a whole. He is a volatile young man that is prone to bouts of rage, but also indifference, swapping between the two at any given moment. However, he shows an astounding sensibility with keen observational skills and a plethora of worldly knowledge that many would not assume a mere Dalish warrior to have. 

Inquisition scouts report that he was along the fringes of the hills surrounding the Conclave several hours before the blast, seemingly observing the gathering of the mages and templars with levels of confusion and intrigue, but was within the village itself when the initial explosion occurred, thus he was brought in as a potential suspect and questioned as to his reasons for being there. Fane stated he was ‘just watching’ and left it at that, so the Inquisition decided to keep him close so they themselves could ‘just watch’. (If playing the Mhairi World State then his reason for being in Haven is as a bodyguard for his sister, and stays with them for her sake alone. He does not leave Clan Lavellan in this world state.) 

Fane is a starting companion (appears at the first initial rift with Solas and Varric) and is a romance option for either a female or male elf or human. The initiation of the romance is, however, based on the approval scale. You must be at a certain percentage upon the initiation scene, otherwise, the flag will be unavailable (Dalish Inquisitors start with infinitely lower approval than human, dwarf, or Qunari Inquisitors). If playing the Mhairi World State then romance option is voided, and a background relationship like Dorian and the Iron Bull will be initiated with Solas through banter hints during the game. The background relationship applies for other world states, and for low approval, or if the Inquisitor does not romance Solas.

His primary abilities upon recruitment are centered around two-handed and DPS, but can be  respecced after the first seal attempt. Fane’s specialized Ability Tree is akin to the Reaver Ability tree, and unlocks along with other companions’ Ability trees after Haven. However, he has two personalized activated skills named Emotional Baggage and Leashed, But By Choice. 

Emotional Baggage is a support, sustained AOE ability that Fane can activate to use the emotional duress of an enemy (i.e. status effects such as panic or weakened.) to augment his, the Inquisitor’s, or other companion’s abilities and basic attacks. This ability eats away at his stamina however and when depleted, Fane is unable to use any of his other abilities for a short period of time, and his basic attacks and general movement is impaired. 

Leashed, But By Choice is an ability exclusively tailored to support either Solas or the Inquisitor (if high approval or within the Mhairi World State). When within the appropriate radius of either one, Fane can ‘tether’ himself to Solas or the Inquisitor to bolster their strength by feeding his emotions through the link established. Any debilitating effects upon Solas or the Inquisitor is transferred to him and redistributed back through with fiery purpose. (status effects stack until stamina pool is depleted) If Fane’s stamina pool is completely depleted when the tether is still established, he will begin to take high amounts of spirit damage due to all debuffs circling back to him until he disconnects himself, or Solas or the Inquisitor cease any basic or activated attacks. (If friendly fire is toggled on, Solas or the Inquisitor can direct an attack towards Fane to forcibly remove the link if he is unable to).

Fane’s focused ability is circumstance dependent, meaning it is only activated if Solas has fallen or is at critical health. (If playing the Mhairi World State, it will be available if Mhairi falls or is critically injured, as well.) It is listed with the name Shattered Vow and is along the lines of the base focus ability Berserk. However, Shattered Vow greatly amplifies abilities such as Dragon Rage and Devour, and has no cooldown times on either, but at the cost of extra amounts of health when used. Stamina rate of depletion is exceptionally lowered during the duration of the ability, but upon focus depletion, or if Solas or Mhairi is revived or healed, Fane will immediately collapse and be incapacitated for the rest of the fight. (Revival, potions with Lifeward, or if Healing Grenade is upgraded with Revival will not work to recall Fane.)

Combat Comments

Kills an enemy

(scoffs) Disgusting.

I’m sick of you! *if enemy downed is a mage*

(snarls) Don’t touch me! 

Kills an enemy (after Haven)

(tired sigh) Will it ever end?

So much red..

I wasn’t made for this..

Low Health

(growls) Permission granted to heal!

Suledin.. S..Suledin.. Vir enasalin.. 

I..I have to..keep going..

Low Health (Companions)

(the Inquisitor) Stop attacking! Focus on the Inquisitor! He/She is injured!

(the Inquisitor - if Dalish) Will pride be your downfall, too?! Someone help the Inquisitor!

(the Inquisitor - Mhairi World State) Help, Mhairi! NOW!!

(Solas) Solas! You damned fool! Fall back!

(Varric) Varric! Archers in the back, warriors on the front! Get it?!

(Cole) Cole! Easy, damn you!

Fallen Companions

(the Inquisitor) - If you fall, we all fall! Get. UP!

(the Inquisitor - if Dalish) I thought you would never submit?! 

(the Inquisitor - Mhairi World State) My, no! (voice cracks) NO! Open your eyes! OPEN THEM!!

(Solas) Solas! (snarls angrily) I swear if you’re not breathing when I get to you, I’ll--I’ll--! 

(Solas - if romanced by Fane) No..NO! (choked up) We made a vow, Solas! It can’t shatter again! I need you!

(Iron Bull) I’m large, but you’re larger, you oaf! Get up!

(Cole) Cole, no! You still have so much to see, to observe! Come on!

(Varric) I don’t fancy having Hawke’s hands on my throat, dwarf! 

(Cassandra) The Seeker’s down? (snarls) Fuck me!

Location Comments

If within radius of any Elvhen artifact 

Fane: I’m..going to stay out here.

Inquisitor: Is everything all right? What’s wrong?

Fane: Nothing. It’s just more practical for someone to stay outside in case of trouble. Go on.

If within radius of any Elvehn artifact and Solas is in the party (primarily after Haven)

Solas: There is an elven artifact nearby.

Fane: (sighs) Of course there is.

Solas: Ir abelas. We shall be quick.

Fane: Go on, then. I’ll be here. 

Exalted Plains

The land is burnt to ash here. How typical.

The sky is...grey. (sighs) I want to leave already.

(Within Halin’sulahn) 

Fane: Could we have built a life here? Harmonious with them and free? Without a yoke to bind us, a noose to threaten us?

Inquisitor: With humans, you mean?

Fane: Huh? Hum--? (clears throat) Yeah. Yeah..

(when reading one of the plaques depicting the Exalted March)

(growls) The world would be better off without religion. (scoffs) Zealots, all of them.

(Approaching the Dalish camp)

Inquisitor: Huh. Look. It’s the Dalish encampment.

Fane: Traipsing about a battlefield? (scoffs) Idiots. I feel bad for the halla.

Emprise du Lion

(takes a deep breath) Ahh, feel that? That’s cold. (chuckles) Just how I like it.

I need to shed a layer...or five. How can you all stand so much fur? Ugh. 

Watch for falling snow from the branches. It’ll crush you as surely as any boulder would.

(near red lyrium) 

This stuff needs to know the perpetuity of black. Destroy it already.

My head is pounding. (growls) Can we get moving? Tsk.

(after walking across Judicael’s Crossing)

Fane: I hear them..

Cole: They’re confused, crazed, chained. They want to correct it, but it’s too much..

Fane: ...Let’s go.

Temple of Mythal

 (entering the temple)

Guess the elves learned how to cherish some things. Don’t let that be in vain.

(after meeting Abelas - didn’t attack)

Fane: I wonder if they know..

Solas: They do.

Fane: Hmph. That’s...good, I guess.

Companion Comments about Fane

Varric: Tempest? (laughs) He’s a handful, but he’s not so bad once you get past it. Elf can drink, too! The other night, half the soldiers were knocked out cold and he was still wide awake!

Blackwall: Have you ever played Diamondback with Solas and Fane at the same time? Don’t. My coin purse is still recovering from that duo. 

Sera: Grumpy? (cackles) I put a rat in his bed roll the other day and I friggin’ swear his hair turned as red as his face after the screech he let out! ...I had to hide out in the kitchens all day, though. 

Cole: His eyes hold dueling duality. He wonders when the battle will end.

Cole (if Fane is romanced with the Inquisitor): He doesn’t know which side he wants, but observing you gives him hope. He feels safe with you.

Solas (not romanced with Fane): Fane has been through a lot, Inquisitor, but his words do not wholly define him. Observe him as he observes all of us, and you will see that.

Solas (if romanced with Fane): (chuckles) Ma’isenatha? He is special, Inquisitor. In more ways than you realize. (more quietly) ...He is more important than you realize.

Iron Bull: He gives me a wide berth for some reason, but he’s one hell of a fighter! (hums) Sort of unhinged though. Like he doesn’t know he’s even moving in for the kill. Kind of worrisome, if you ask me.

Dorian: Fane? (chuckles) Have you ever heard him speak when he thinks no one’s listening? That man is a walking poetry book! Caught him reciting one to himself one time and when I asked about it, he turned beet red! I swear the man’s eyes changed colors from that alone!

Leliana (if not playing the Mhairi World State): I don’t know much about him, or rather, I cannot find much about him. For a large man with very unique features, he remains shadowed. ...And he seems to want it that way.

Leliana (if Inquisitor is Dalish): I attempted to contact your clan after Haven to gather information, but...all inquiries were met with refusal or deflection. You yourself mentioned you had never interacted with him, yes? I believe there is more going on than Fane wishes to admit.

Leliana (if playing the Mhairi World State): Your brother is highly observational and subtle for a man so large. He had taken one of my investigations as his own, and brought back amazing amounts of intel that uncovered a ring of mages attempting to repeat the same dragon control from the Grand Cathedral. ...Would you be adverse to me making him an agent?

Trespasser

No matter the romance or world state, Fane becomes unavailable at the end of Inquisition. If romanced, however, he will leave the Inquisitor a letter stating that he’s sorry, but he can’t continue to ignore what is needed for what he wants. If playing the Mhairi World State, he also leaves a letter, but the message is attached with the favor Mhairi had given him when he turned twenty-one; a velvet sash. After various attempts of locating Fane and turning up no leads, he is presumed out of bounds of Thedas or dead.

During Trespasser, upon the final eluvian that ultimately leads to Solas,  the Inquisitor will be stopped by a dragon masked warrior, who is also blocking the Viddasala from entering the mirror. Even when questioned, the warrior doesn’t speak and ultimately moves to the side to allow passage, but not before finally saying, in fluent Elvhen: ‘Your wings are clipped, and only stone awaits you.’

When the Inquisitor speaks to Solas, he will explain that Fane is not dead or missing, and is actively within the Crossroads as they speak. Any circumstance will yield questions from the Inquisitor as to Fane’s exact whereabouts, and Solas with state, with a saddened smile, ‘He saw you when you came in, but you did not do the same courtesy. Such is the way the world views his kind.’ If the Inquisitor made an effort to learn the history of the elves, their downfall, and Solas’s own identity, then he will explain exactly what Fane is and who he is to Solas himself. If not, then Solas will say to find Fane themselves to learn the complete truth and will only explain his own side. 

In the Epilogue, it is made known that the warrior the Inquisitor passed in the Crossroads was Fane, after Leliana’s agents reports sightings of a large male along the fringes of Tevinter, wearing the same armor, but without the mask attached. It is later revealed that Fane is working as one of the Agents of Fen’harel, but mainly as Solas’s second in command.  

Trivia

Fane has an unhealthy obsession with anything sweet. He often gets stomach aches.

He is demisexual, thus why his romance is based upon the approval scale.

Fane is the only companion that cannot have armor crafted for. He will equip himself as levels dictate.

His area within Skyhold is situated in three places: The third floor in the tavern with Cole, leaning on the crates in the rookery, and most frequently, reclining on the couch in the rotunda, reading.  Sometimes banter will trigger between him, Solas, Cole, and Leliana. During Haven, Fane can be found along the edges of the training yard or along one of the broken docks.

His idle animation has him scanning the sky with his arms crossed, or clenching and unclenching his fists.

He enjoys the scent and look of Gladiolus. 

If not playing the Mhairi World State, Fane is revealed to have no family beyond his deceased mother and missing father, the latter he speaks of with great disgust and loathing, however.

There is a DLC called Emerald Eyes Amidst Golden Vows that doubles as Fane’s personal quest which reveals towards dragons having a greater influence beyond the Old Gods. It hints towards Fane’s identity, as well, but it is not resolved until Trespasser.

Fane can speak and write in fluent Elvhen, but refuses to unless pressed.

Fane’s Reaver ability Dragon’s Rage is a silvery blue color rather than crimson. Upon activation of Shattered Vow, however, the blue is mixed with red.

It is revealed in Trespasser that Fane was able to ‘tether’ with the Inquisitor due to the mark, since it is Solas’s magic. 

He is secretly claustrophobic. This is revealed in The Descent DLC, if taken.

He personally tests every strange bottle of liquor the Inquisitor finds in the wilds.

The Mhairi World State is an origin preset for Fane to personalize the player’s experience with him through special dialogue and unique buffs.

Fane’s ‘climax’ romance scene reveals the abuse he underwent as a child from his father. His scars are exposed for the Inquisitor to see, then.

Refers to Solas as ‘my sky’, if in a romantic relationship. If involved with the Inquisitor, he will call them, ‘my wings’.

***

Yeah, I got carried away. I had to stop myself because I think about this a lot since Fane was not originally my canon Inquisitor. Not entirely canon compliant, but you all know me, I recognize canon, but I don’t chain myself to it. XD

[estoniacobaltpayne]

Judgement Day

Chapter 1: Devising Deceit

Summary: Desperate, a force user bargains for her freedom; if she acquires the ‘asset’ deemed top priority, she would be free from the life that has enslaved her. Years of training has prepared her, but she’s stubborn and unlucky and more often than not she’s biting off more than she can chew. Maybe pulling the long con is the only path to freedom, but if it is, there’s a Mandalorian blocking it.

Warnings: language, implications of creepy old men

Pairing: Din Djarin X Reader

Prologue: Here!

Arvala-7 was hot. Despicably so. It was as if its creation was solely intended to irritate her on her quest. She would have thought she would have been more accustomed to the heat, but even the stuffy cargo holds on the dingy and dank ships she stowed away upon weren’t as unbearable as the waves of oppressing heat radiating from the red sand.

Hell, even Jakku hadn’t been this unbearably hot.

Luckily, Darth Ragna didn’t have long to linger in her suffering for too long. An isolated base appeared before her, and along with it brought the beginning of her journey towards freedom. Taking out the guards would be quick work, especially with her abilities. Really, what could they offer themselves for protection? Blasters? A canon at most? Surely, nothing to suppress her unnatural abilities. A forgotten base such as this one would in no way be equipped with such advanced, expensive, and rare technology.

And so she began her fight. The blasters were easy to manipulate into disintegration, and their users were easy enough to mindlessly toss aside without a single touch. The first canon was just the same. The second canon was a surprise, but took just as little effort. Then the crew of the base rolled out another 3 canons simultaneously. She was falling behind in her attacks. She now played the role of the defence, and damn, was their offence growing stronger? Or was the heat of the sun really that bad? How comical. The sun bringing down someone as powerful as her.

But it wasn’t the sun. It was the syringe sticking out of her arm. Did these unintelligent life forms really just... gain the upper hand? Did they really just have the audacity to shoot her with… what was it?

What was-

The last thing she saw was the same damned red sand kicked in her face by the boots of the soldiers running towards her. She couldn’t even feel it stinging her eyes, coating her skin, dirtying her hair. And after another moment in slow motion, she lost her ability to keep her eyes open.

The last thing she registered was the sharp voice that eternally plagued her head; “you should be better than this, pathetic child.”

And then, she was nothing.

——

Rumbling.

Outside.

Outside where?

Where is inside?

Darth Ragna pushed herself off the ground. She spit out some of the red sand that still lingered in her mouth. How long had she been out? Why couldn’t she feel the force? How did those buffoons even get the upper hand?

She lifted up her arms to shake some of pesky sand that was in her hair. It was impossibly tangled in every direction, and the sweat and sand coating her head was making the itching on her scalp nearly unbearable. But something was impeding her attempt to soother herself; handcuffs. A very familiar model of handcuffs.

“If you can’t control yourself, then I get to control you. Understand, girl?”

A tall man with skin as pale as his soul and a grip to match pulls along a young girl, not even old enough to have 2 digits in her age.

“Please! I can! I can be good! I promise! I-“

He turns around and cuts her off sharply, “no! This is the last time you disobey me! If you didn’t want the cuffs, you would have contemplated your actions before you enacted them! Pray I don’t devise a worse punishment!”

A pair of handcuffs encircled her wrists. They were a clean chrome colour, that, when paired with the glowing blue technology underneath their surface, suppressed every ounce of ability to connect with the force. She was alone now.

It was the same type of handcuffs that were forced upon Ragna now.

But now, they were such a small problem compared to the IG-11 droid imposing over her body that was limp on the floor. She backed herself up the wall, trying to put as much space between herself and the killer droid as possible. After all, her powers in the force were useless, thanks to the cuffs, and she was useless against the droid.

But its focus was not on her, anyways.

Its target was stubbornly aimed on the pram to her right. She couldn’t see into it, but she new from the intel she was given back home that, if it was the asset she was sent to acquire, it was a child. The droid had its blaster aimed into its center; but it dropped to the ground with a hole in its head as suddenly and as unceremoniously as it had been brought into this world. Its effortless destruction was brought upon it before it got the chance to terminate the child.

But whatever managed to take out an IG-11 droid so very easily was more concerning to Darth Ragna; and that’s when she noticed the Mandalorian.

The visor of his silver helmet was trained upon her. The chest plates the colour of the sand beneath his feet rose and fell in gentle breaths; too gentle considering the energy he must have exerted to take out the guards outside. Speaking of which: if he could take them out, why couldn’t she? If she couldn’t out-fight a few hired guns, how the hell was she supposed to take out this beast of a Mandalorian? Even if her abilities in the force had been unsuppressed?

She thought quickly; the only way to get out of this alive was to out-wit the Mandalorian. If she was able to successfully convince him that she was sent here to care for the asset, then she might be able to gain his trust. And once she did, she would, quite literally, stab him in the back, and take the asset as her own bounty. And so, in a rushed, nearly unbelievable string of jumbled words, she put on, truly, her best act. But her rushed stammering, she could tell, did little to sway the bounty hunter. After her speech, he simply stared at her, unmoving.

Finally, after Ragna began to think that he would just end her then and there, he let out a gruff, “how do you explain the cuffs, then?”

His voice was like nothing she had ever heard; rough, raw, authentic. It stunned her into silence. It wasn’t until he let out a tensed, “well?” that she responded.

“They didn’t believe me! Even after showing them that I, too, am a wielder of the force, they still locked me up here!”

The Mandalorian was really going against his better judgement when he helped her up off the floor. But for Ragna, things were starting to go her way. She just had to sell her feigned kindness and hope that he warmed up to her quickly.

“Thank you! You have no idea how refreshing it is to have someone sane at a time like this! Imagine if those gunman had just left me here. How rude! I can’t even think of it! Truly, you live up to the reputation of your people! Now, if you would oblige me once more and take off these cuffs?”

The Mandalorian was already halfway out the door with the child, when he bluntly replied, “no.”

Well, damn.

——

And damn once more. Ragna had really expected her situation to be much easier than it was turning out to be. A caravan of Jawas had raided the Mandalorian’s ship for parts (not that there was much worth scavenging, as she bluntly said to the ship’s owner). Her new travel companion enlisted the help of a former ally to try and remedy the situation. An Ugnaut named Kuill, who mentioned in passing his indentured servitude in the Empire. Ragna stiffened. Did he… did he know of her? If he did, he didn’t seem to let on, a relief to Ragna. If she were to be found out, she would be facing instant death via Mandalorian.

Honestly, it was the damned cuffs. This whole ordeal could have been over and done with had that stubborn Mandalorian just taken those handcuffs off her. But until he did, she could do nothing to help in any way. Not when the Mandalorian went to fight the mudhorn did he take them off, and not even when he was fixing his ship. She could have helped and this all would have gone much faster, and she was sure to make that fact known to the Mandalorian in a feeble attempt to win his faith, but he did nothing but ignore her.

More importantly, she couldn’t carry out her plan to kill the Mandalorian and take the child to the Imperials herself if she was still held hostage in the force suppressing cuffs. She attempted to reach out to him; to establish a faux acquaintanceship with him in order to sway him into trusting her, but as soon as she initiated a conversation, he took the child and hid himself away in the cockpit. He locked the doors and didn’t dare retreat for the majority of the ride to Nevarro, as she believed he mentioned they were going, which was her last chance to enact any semblance of her plan. But alas, he still did not remove the force suppressing cuffs, and she was still disabled to the force. The Mandalorian’s contact, however, proved to not be useless to her and her situation. He was one of the Imperial councilmen that approved her bargain; the child’s obtainment for her freedom. The amount of time the client spent talking to the bounty hunter was excruciating, however, as soon as he left, she made herself and her bargain loud and clear to the Imperial client.

“I bargained that should the child be brought into Imperial hands, that I would be freed.”

The Imperial was a plump man with a disapproving face. He was smart, and not one to easily let go of what he felt belonged in Imperial clutches.

“And yet, you were not the one to bring in the asset, so I do believe that your contract has been voided.”

Her jaw squared. She would be damned if some bounty hunter got in the way of her freedom.

“I helped him. I led him to it. There were too many guards. Neither could have taken them alone. My contract never said I couldn’t employ the assistance of another,” Ragna was seething. All she could do was plead. There was no way she would let go of her freedom now; not when she was so close, and she wasn’t below laying herself down at the feet of this asshat to obtain what she wanted.

“And yet, you’re sitting here in the force suppressing handcuffs I know your father so dearly loves to see you in.”

A shiver ran down Ragna’s spine. But she ignored the implications. She would weasel her way out of this.

“He wanted assurance that I wouldn’t kill him and take the reward for myself. After seeing the reward was beskar, I can’t blame him. Now, I believe my obligations are fulfilled. Please remove the cuffs.”

The Imperial client regarded her for a moment. Honestly, with how much Ragna made the Empire put up with - all her fits and acts of rebellion against her training - she’d have thought they’d be glad to be rid of her. A fact she made clear to him in his glaring silence.

After a moment he acquiesced, and ordered one of the troopers to remove them.

She was free.

——

And how beautiful freedom was.

For all of about an hour.

Ragna was enjoying some street food native to Nevarro when she heard a commotion on the next street over. She shouldn’t have investigated. Really, she should have stowed away on the nearest ship and bailed, but something pulled her towards the trouble.

And she really, should have known what was the source.

There he was, that damned Mandalorian (only now in a shiny new set of armour), carrying the child to his ship. He was conversing with someone, who, Ragna didn’t know, but before she could try and decipher their conversation, her comm beeped from her satchel.

“Come in! Ragna come in!”

She really, really, shouldn’t have answered the damned call.

“Ragna! The bounty hunter I was informed you worked with in obtaining the asset just made off with it! Tore threw nearly a half dozen troopers! Apprehend he and the child immediately!”

Rage coursed through her. She was no longer an Imperial toy!

“How dare you? My contract has been fulfilled! It is no concern of mine what happens in Imperial matters now!”

A dark cackle comes through the comm. The poor quality of the speaker mixed it with static to give it a truly horrifying and maniacal texture.

“I thought you wanted freedom in order to better carry out the will of the Empire? I see now that you have betrayed me and this entire organisation. Foolish girl. Apprehend the bounty hunter and bring us the asset, or there will be not a single crevice of this galaxy that you can hide from me.”

The comm went silent. Sigh. Should she disregard her commands and hide herself away, she would never truly be free. If she brought in the bounty hunter and child, she would never have to worry about hiding from her Imperial keepers ever again. Ragna regarded her options. She had no ship, so chasing the Mandalorian around the galaxy in an attempt to kill him was off the table. She still had her original plan though. And now, as other bounty hunters swarmed him from every angle, she had the perfect opportunity to help fight them off.

Hopefully, that would be enough for the Mandalorian to seal some trust in her.

[glorious-kt]

The Case of the Cybernetic Arm

Joining up with the Bad Batch was either his stupidest idea or his best idea. Echo was still debating on it to be honest. Hunter treated him with respect, but... he also treated him differently than the others. Tech treated him normally, always asking him questions and trying to get his help with his new hacking gear. However, Tech... didn’t seem to trust him much. Crosshair treated him with disdain, full of sarcasm and blunt whit. Sometimes Echo could fire back with his own silver tongue, but... there were instances where Crosshair’s words hit a little too close to home. He was an outsider. A “reg”. To those three at least. Wrecker... Wrecker treated him with kindness, happy to have a new friend to nag and to challenge.

Echo wasn’t sure what he could do to earn the other three’s trust and clear respect. They never trusted him enough to let him go off on his own during missions, they hardly let him do anything on his own, they tended to just disregard any strategies he tries to offer. But... but they also let him have his own room, buy his own things, read whenever he wants to, they let him hoard as many droid parts that he can find. It wasn’t all bad, but it wasn’t perfect either. It’s why he was debating on if he had made the right choice. One out of four disliked him, two out of four tolerated him, and the last actually treated him correctly, like a person. He had wanted to join them mainly because they offered freedom. Freedom to figure out who he was now. That and they also reminded him of Fives. He wasn’t stupid. He knew Fives was dead. That didn’t mean it didn’t hurt though.

“Oi, Echo. You’re stuck in your own head again,” Wrecker’s voice cut through Echo’s thoughts, making the former ARC Trooper blink rapidly as he pulled himself back to reality.

“Sorry, Wrecker. Just thinking,” Echo smiled back at the larger trooper in front of him.

They were playing some sort of brawling game that the Bad Batch had installed into the ship’s main table. Echo had no idea how to play, but Wrecker had begged him to play, so he was.

“Whatcha thinkin’ ‘bout,” Wrecker asked, grinning as he pressed a button, forcing one of the holographic creatures to attack one of Echo’s own holographic creatures.

“It’s nothing. Just my mind rambling on,” Echo huffed in slight frustration as he glared down at the game, he was loosing.

“Oh! It’s doing that thing that Tech does when he talks about computers,” Wrecker grinned back at Echo, tilting his head.

“Yeah,” Echo laughed lightly as he made his own move in the game, wincing internally when he had moved to try and use his right hand only to be met with the strange cybernetic attached to him instead.

He really needed to start working on that cybernetic hand. It was getting annoying, not being able to use his right hand anymore. Plus, having both hands would make him more useful on the battlefield right? Maybe that’d earn him some more trust.

“You and Tech ramble a lot, but you do it internally,” Wrecker nodded as he finished off Echo’s last remaining creature with a smirk, making Echo groan.

“Yeah. I don’t want to annoy anyone.”

——————

He was stuck with Crosshair this mission. Echo normally didn’t work with Crosshair on most missions, mainly because the sniper didn’t like him all that much, but this mission required him to be Crosshair’s second pair of eyes. That’s what he’d been told, but Echo had a sneaking suspicion that the real reason was because Hunter didn’t want him anywhere near the intelligence center they were infiltrating. He wasn’t stupid.

“Should we look for an alternate escape route for them should they run into trouble,” Echo asked quietly, glancing at the sniper beside him.

“No. They’ll be fine, reg. Just be my second pair of eyes and be quiet,” Crosshair scoffed quietly while he scanned the area with his scope.

Right. A second pair of eyes. What sort of use was a second pair of eyes for a sniper whose eye sight is perfect and his aim even better? Echo tried to hide his disappointment. His shoulders dropped anyways, and his left hand traced over the cybernetic piece on his arm. Useless. A second pair of eyes to a perfect sniper was useless. Why was he even invited to join them if they were never going to treat him like he was one of them?

He just needed to wait a little longer. He’d get that cybernetic hand fixed up by the end of next week, then he could be useful.

“Let’s move, reg.”

“Right.”

———————

Staying up till midnight wasn’t his best decision or his favorite decision, but he wanted to get that arm done so badly. He was halfway through though, so he couldn’t complain. Tech, however, apparently could.

“Look, I don’t know what you were doing last night, but please keep it down. Some of us like our beauty rest,” Tech scowled as he poked Echo in the chest.

“Sorry. I’ll try to be quieter. I was just fixing up my cybernetics,” Echo apologized quietly.

“What for? They’re in prestine shape. What damage could you have possibly done during the missions we’ve been on? Especially with where you have been placed in each mission,” Tech fired off two questions immedietly, crossing his arms over his chest in suspicion, or at least it looked like suspicion to Echo.

“I was just fine tuning some stuff. I get phantom pains, and tinkering helps me block it out,” Echo shrugged lightly, his voice going quiet under the scrutiny.

“Hmm. Just be quieter,” Tech huffed before heading back towards the kitchen in the ship.

“Right. Sorry.”

———————

Echo took Tech’s advice and was quieter the next night, tinkering away at the new cybernetic arm. He was 95% done with it when Hunter entered his room, making Echo jump. The Seargent studied him quietly, his face blank while he flicked his gaze from Echo, to the tools, and to the arm on the floor of his room. Echo swallowed heavily when the man took a few more steps towards him, closing the door behind him, and took a seat on the floor beside Echo.

“Is this what you were working on last night,” Hunter asked quietly, gesturing to the arm.

“Y-yes, sir. I just... I figured if I had both of my hands then... then you would trust me more. I wouldn’t be able to plug into anything anymore, and it would give me back my mobility. I’ve been useless so far. You won’t let me go off on my own, or do things by myself, and you don’t trust me enough to use any of my strategies. I’d be of more use this way. You could point and I’d shoot and—”

“Who said you were useless,” Hunter cut his rambling off, sitting up straight, alarm seeming to color voice.

“N-no one, but... I’m not stupid. I can tell when you’ve just put me with somone to keep me out of the way or to keep me away from computer terminals,” Echo replied quietly as he stared down at the unfinished cybernetic arm.

Hunter stared at Echo, studying the broken ARC in front of him. They treated Echo differently, because he was. Echo was the only brother that they had welcomed into their family that wasn’t a commanding officer like Cody or Rex.

“We’ve been treating you like glass and you took it the wrong way,” Hunter said softly, tilting his head away in slight shame.

“What?”

“C’mon, vod. Let’s put these tools away and get some sleep. You can finish this in the morning, that way Tech can make sure you hook it up correctly.”

“But, I—”

“No “buts”, reg. In the bed, even ARCs need sleep.”

“I- yes sir.”

———————

When Echo woke up that next morning he woke up to a steaming cup of caf beside his bed. That was... new. Not unwelcome of course just new. Echo sat up tiredly in his bunk and nursed the cup of caf for a good thirty minutes before he even got out of bed. It was then that he noticed the arm he had been working on was missing. Had Hunter taken it when he had taken the tools? Echo yawned lightly as he exited his room and went towards the kitchen to dispose of his cup.

“Hunter where did you put my stuff last night? I want to get it done by the time... we...,” Echo yawned as he stepped into the kitchen trailing off as he blinked at the picture in front of him.

Both Crosshair and Tech were curled over the cybernetic arm he had been working on last night, tools and paintbrushes in hand, slightly alarmed at Echo’s presence. Hunter looked smug almost as he sipped on his own cup of caf. Wrecker was- as usual- barely awake.

“What,” was all Echo’s tired brain came up with.

“Just fixing up the calibrating for it. We added a few things too. Crosshair kept bugging me about the design, so he helped too. We can attach it once we’re done,” Tech said, recovering first, voice as steady and logical as ever.

“It was made out of scraps of course I bugged about the design,” Crosshair scoffed, rolling his eyes.

“What,” Echo squeaked again, not understanding what was happening.

“Hunter said that we have been making you feel useless by not letting you do things by yourself or join the harsher missions. We didn’t mean to cause that type of thinking. We wanted to give you time to adjust first. That and we need you to regain some of your weight back, but that plan seems to have backfired. So, we are changing up our plan. You still won’t be in some of the harsher mission until you’re body is back up to it’s healthy weight, but we will no longer treat you like glass,” Tech replied easily as he finished working on the cybernetic arm.

“Because the reg isn’t made of glass. He never was,” Crosshair rolled his eyes lightly.

“By the way, Crosshair calls you a reg out of affection. Not insult,” Tech spoke up again.

Echo blinked in shock at the information, he twitched lightly when Crosshair didn’t even deny the comment either. They were... they were giving him space... giving him time to get used to things. Oh. OH.

“I was an ARC trooper. Still am really. You realize that being in the 501st on top of that makes me the farthest thing from glass, right,” Echo said quietly.

“Yeah we sort of figured that out,” Hunter laughed quietly.

“The boys in blue are crazy,” Wrecker nodded, starting to wake up.

Tech stood up from his seat and moved over to Echo, cybernetic arm in hand. The ARC trooper blinked in shock as Tech began to remove his old one and replace it with the new one. Echo twitched lightly when he felt it connect with his nerves.

“That should do it,” Tech nodded as he pulled back, the other Bad Batchers shifting slightly in anticipation.

Echo swallowed as he opened and closed his new cybernetic hand. He grinned sharply when he could feel it.

“Thanks. When can I test it in the field,” Echo smiled upon at them, the smile was sharp and near feral, all teeth and mischief.

“Next week, Echo,” Hunter laughed loudly.

[skybiome]

And when the sun comes up, you’ll find a brand new god.

Chapter 2

Beginning | Previous | Next

ao3 tws! combat and gore

 He didn’t remember hitting the ground. Techno opened his eyes and was lying on a stone floor. Walls of the same rough hewn material rose far above the hunter’s eye sight. The only thing he could see above the walls was a beacon of golden light. A clear goal was set before him; he had to get to the light to complete the trial.

 The cursed man redrew his weapon. The item emerged a one handed sword. The edge of the blade was coated in shimmering blood. He didn’t know how badly an axe to the chest would hurt a god, but Techno let himself take comfort in the fact that it could be injured. But also felt a bolt of anxiety shoot through him. Techno had killed many things. The only other thing that had ever bled gold was himself.

 Technoblade kept the weapon in his hand, and delved into the rounded maze.

 Sticking to the right wall, Techno dragged the tip of his sword along the curving stone. The magic weapon cut a divot into the stone. Any normal blade would have dulled after minutes of the abuse. The monster hunter smirked to himself and continued walking. The horrible noise of crystal against stone cried out behind him.

 He’d had the sword for thousands of years and it was still as sharp as the day he’d woken up with it on his hip. After a bit of walking and a few split paths, the maze widened into a room about 20 feet across. The floor was carved into ascending stone steps with a cockatrice asleep in the center.

 Following the curve of the room wall, he crept towards the threshold that would take him and out back out into the labyrinth. As he placed one foot through the doorway, something hissed behind him. Technoblade threw himself to the side as the cockatrice lunged at where he’d been moments before.

 The reptilian rooster sailed through the air and landed in the hallway in front of the him. The bird turned back around to face its opponent, brilliant plumage shimmering in the low light. The monster hunter made eye contact as he brandished his sword.

 A shiver ran down his spine. After a moment, the cockatrice lunged again. The sword severed its neck easily. Blood splattered Techno’s front. He turned around without another thought, leaving the still moving body of the monster seizing on the stone floor.

 The monster hunter was certain that he’d been wandering for days by the time the winding passages opened up again. His eyes had fully adjusted and the red blood had dried on his clothes and sword. He faced a gray gryphon.

 The beautiful creature was wide awake in the center of the stone arena. Snarling and flaring its wings, the monster tried to scare off the man. Techno noticed that the largest feathers on the tips of its wings were missing. The animal was grounded without its flight feathers. Techno shifted the grip on his sword. Gryphons were smart creatures. They’d flee if they were outclassed with nothing on the line.

 He kept the blade between him and the creature as he edged around the circular space. Reaching the exit of the room, the monster hunter tried to back out the opening. His back hit something solid.

 The gray gryphon in front of him lashed its tail, and let out a warning warble. Techno risked a glance behind him. A golden barrier illuminated wherever he touched it. Ripples emerged from the points of contact, and bounced stone surrounding the barrier, illuminating it even when he was no longer touching it.

 An avian shriek throttled his attention. The monster hunter threw himself into a roll as the gryphon lunged at him, slamming hard into the barrier as well. For Technoblade, that impact solidified the intention of his trial.

 After he’d tried to not kill the cockatrice, Wilbur wasn’t going to let him avoid another fight. He’d have to kill the gryphon if he wanted to move on. This was a trial by combat.

 Getting back to his feet, the monster hunter gave his opponent a moment to do the same. Again, the gryphon lept. Techno swung, and the blade severed two digits from its front right claw as smoothly as running a butter knife through an open jar of honey. The creature’s other talon tore through the soft part of his stomach. The gryphon slammed him into the floor, disemboweling him. He lost his grip on the sword. Rearing back, the bird dug its beak into his abdominal cavity, tearing the man to shreds.

 Through the pain, Techno lashed out with his feet. He landed a kick somewhere. The gryphon cried out in pain, and pulled its head out of the man’s golden entrails. His left hand made contact with the hilt of his sword.

 Techno grabbed the weapon and swung it over his body, fully severing the dismembered limb and taking off the tip of the monster’s beak. The bird reared on its back legs in agony. Pressing his hand to his ravaged organs, he staggered to his feet.

 The creature kept its bleeding stump pulled close to its chest. The monster hunter could already feel the uncomfortable warmth rising in his torso and the bleeding slowing. Hissing, the gryphon staggered towards Techno with an uneven gate. He dodged towards its injured side. The bird extended its wing to hit him.

 The sword sunk easily through the limb and bone, separating it at the joint. Pulling all the way through the muscles of the wing, Techno changed the trajectory of the blade and slashed through the animal’s tail near the base. The man stumbled to a stop against the wall. He was coated in his own blood as well as the blood of his enemy.

 Any intelligence in the monster’s eyes had vanished. Its ear tufts were soundly pressed against its head and its pupils were slits. It attacked with a savagery that even surprised the monster hunter. There were no breaks between its assaults, and Techno only got in a few minor cuts before the gryphon pinned him to the floor and mauled him.

 After a period that Techno could only imagine, the monster fell on its side. The blood from its severed limbs covered the room. It was still bleeding heavily from the stumps. Getting to his feet, the cursed man redrew his sword.

 The magnificent creature’s breathing was labored. Its gray feathers were coated in both the man’s golden blood and its own red fluid. Sentience and fear had slithered back into the gryphon’s yellow eyes.

 The monster hunter carefully ran his hand over the wounded animal’s torso. Finding the gap in the ribs that should lead to the heart, he readied his sword. With a final strike, the gryphon gave up the fight.

 He left the sword in the beast’s side and staggered towards the exit.

 The wounds from the fight had healed nigh instantly, but the golden blood still soaked Techno’s shirt. His cloak had been torn off and his hair had fallen out of its pony-tail. Ichor pooled in his boots. The man left a trail of golden, bloody footprints in his wake.

 The barrier didn't stop him.

 ---

 Tommy looked away from projection.

 “Well, that wasn’t very pretty.”

 The young god was sitting on the surface of one of Wilbur’s signature pillars in the void of his domain. Another, smaller dais had risen from the center, and with a light projection showing Technoblade’s movements on top of it. Wilbur was standing off to the side, swiping his hands through floating images showing different pieces and aspects of the labyrinth trial.

 “It usually isn’t. Most people don’t walk out of a fight with a gryphon, period.”

 Tommy looked back at the feed playing in front of him. He propped his head on his hand, and watched the bloodied man delve back into the dark maze. He was quiet for a moment, before asking, “He’s not human, is he?”

 Wilbur shook his head. “No. He’s definitely a god.”

 “You know what he is?”

 “Nope. Probably something combat related because he heals      incredibly     fast.” Wilbur rubbed his shoulder, thinking about how the axe had sunken in. The wound had closed in a few days, but the joint still ached slightly. It had been a long time since the music god had been injured.

 The younger of the two snorted. “Dream will be happy about that. He hasn’t had anyone good to fight in a while.” He wafted his hand through the display in front of him. Tubbo had joined him when Wilbur had invited them to watch Techno fight the cockatrice, but his friend had turned down the invitation after he’d been told this fight would be even bloodier.

 Pushing himself up from his sitting position, Tommy walked over to look at what his brother was messing with.

 “Do you have anything else planned so far?”

 The movements of Wilbur’s hands hesitated for a moment, but picked back up as he answered with, “I was planning on having him face a sphinx, but he kinda seems like a meat head. Would probably just fight his way through it.”

 Tommy nodded. “I can see that.”

 “I’ll probably give him one more big opponent, and then call this trial good and work on the next one.”

 “Ooooo,” Tommy leaned in closer to look at his brother’s projects. “Can I know what the monster will be?”

 Wilbur smirked. “Nope.” He ignored the other god’s antics of throwing his hands in the air and storming away from Wilbur.

 The god of music turned away from his project to look at his little brother. “You’ll just have to wait until Technoblade finds it.”

 Groaning dramatically, Tommy plopped back down beside the projection. It had only been a few minutes and all of the monster hunter’s wounds had already healed.

 He was quiet for a moment, before saying, “You’ll come get me again, right? Like when he finds the next monster?”

 Wilbur nodded. “Of course. I’m probably gonna bring a few others as well.”

 “Can you tell me who?”

 “Phil and Dream.”

 “Fuck yeah! They’ll love this.”

 A smile slid onto Wilbur's face. His brother's enthusiasm was infectious. Tommy was the god of excitement and entertainment, after all.

 The music god hid his smile by turning back to his work. “Now get out of my hair.” Wilbur waved a hand towards Tommy without turning around. He felt something shift, indicating that Tommy had been banished from the domain.

 Standing up straighter, Wilbur fully focused his attention back to the task at hand.

 He had to start working on the next one now.

 ---

 The man has lost track of how long he'd been in the maze. His hair had reached the bottom of his shoulder blades, so at least a few days. Techno was still matted head to toe in his own gore.

 When red blood gets on fabric, it hardens and stains, clotting and solidifying. Techno's blood doesn't harden. It soaks in and dyes anything it touches a brilliant gold that no amount of scrubbing can remove. It looked like the man was covered in paint instead of his own viscera.

 The winding paths opened into another arena. A massive, bipedal wyvern stood in the middle of the room. Gold, royal blue, and black, the monster was clearly designed by the god of music. The monster hunter took a moment to steel himself before entering the room.

 Wyverns weren’t as intelligent as gryphons, and lacked the sentience and telepathy of their larger draconic cousins. Instead of focused telepathy for communication, wyverns emitted a constant projection of their current emotion. When angered, it would paralyze the wyvern’s attackers, turning them into sitting ducks.

 Techno had never been affected by a wyverns anger. Normal humans would need a magic item to protect them, but a false-dragon’s rage had never stopped him. He’d only been truly affected by a wyvern’s emotions once.

 The monster had lived on a mountain, and was stealing sheep and cattle from a ranch. Techno had been paid to kill it. When he reached the lip of the cavern, the cursed man was stopped in his tracks.

 The monster hunter fell to his knees. Tears cut tracks through the grime on his face as the unadulterated      love     filtering out of the cave forced all thoughts out of Techno’s head. His sword slipped out of his grip, clattering to the floor and drawing the wyvern’s attention. The spell was broken.

 Techno let out a breath he didn’t notice he was holding. Anger rolled over him, a welcome relief from his frozen state previously. With control back over his body, the monster hunter made short work of the monster. He was coated in both his blood and the wyvern’s by the time it was dead.

 A nest full of eggs sat in the center of the room. They were what the beast had been coddling. Techno smashed them and grabbed a few trophies from the mother before making his way back down the mountain. He made sure that the tear tracks on his face were covered up by mud and dust before he stepped out of the cave.

 The wyvern in the maze was the largest that the monster hunter had ever seen. It was easily 30 feet from nose to tail tip. The membrane of its wings were torn to ribbons, keeping the serpent grounded in the maze.

 Shifting his grip on the sword, Techno sprinted into the room. The false dragon met his charge. Its jaws missed his head by inches. The monster hunter could feel his teeth rattle in his skull from the impact. Keeping his momentum, he lunged upwards and the sword bit through the softer hide of the wyvern’s belly.

 The beast screamed in pain. Leaving the weapon buried in its torso, the man hurried out from under the hulkering creature. The wyvern dropped to the floor and thrashed wildly, trying to crush its attacker. Techno was a fair distance away before something hit him in the back.

 Ribs cracked in his chest as the monster’s tail impacted him. Thrown across the stone floor, Techno slid to a stop against the curved wall. He could taste horribly sweet blood.

 Breathing hard, Techno got to his feet. On the other side of the arena, the wyvern stopped flailing, and hurried upright, locking its gaze back on its opponent. Blood slopped out of the laceration in the wyvern’s torso. Its frantic movements had only driven the weapon farther and worsened the attack.  The blade had already returned to Techno’s sheath. He redrew it, blue crystal barely visible through the red gore.

 From a wound that size, the monster would bleed out, eventually. But Techno wanted this to end quickly.

 The beast roared, and charged once again. Maw open, it aimed to shred its assailant to pieces. Techno steadied his grip on the sword. He met the false dragon’s charge, plunging the blade through the roof on its mouth as its jaws snapped down on his arm, severing it cleanly.

 He fell back. Shock ran through his system chasing out any logical thoughts. Sitting on the floor, his eyes numbly watched the wyvern take a few shocked steps backwards. It collapsed, blood pooling on the ground around its open mouth. By the time Techno snapped out of his haze, his arm was fully healed and his weapon was back in its sheath.

 The cursed man got to his feet, and stumbled out of the stone arena without looking back at the corpse.

 ---

 Philza hissed as the wyvern took off Technoblade’s arm. For not being a combat specific god, the winged god healed quickly, but losing limbs was never a fun experience. His sympathy was drowned out by Tommy yelling in celebration. Frowning, the god smacked his little brother over the head with one of his wings.

 Tommy yelped and turned to look at Phil. “What was that for?”

 The older god flung his arms out dramatically, his wings mimicking the motion. "The man just lost an arm, Tommy! You shouldn't be celebrating."

 The young god waved off the elder's concern, turning back to watch the projection. "Ehhhhh, he'll be fine."

 Phil furrowed his brow, but turned back to the trial. The pink haired man was sitting in a pile on the floor as the false-dragon swiftly bled out nearby. He was filthy and coated in golden ichor.

 After a minute, and staggered out of the puddle of his own blood and towards the exit of the room. Phil quietly judged him for leaving his only weapon in the corpse of the beast. He quickly rescinded that judgement when he noticed the blade back in the scabbard on Technoblade’s hip.

 The fourth person in the room watched silently as Tommy cheered and Phil watched, transfixed by the image of the man in front of him.

 Dream looked to Wilbur, who was once again messing with the layout of the maze and cleaning up the mess the monster hunter left behind.

 “Wilbur.” The god of the hunt drew the attention of his fellow deity away from the trial he was working on.

 The god of music hummed a note, his way of indicating that he was listening.

 “Do you know what he is?”

 Wilbur shook his head. “Probably something combat related. His weapon always comes back to him, and he heals really quickly.” The god rubbed his shoulder where Technoblade’s axe had sunk into it. The injury was fully healed, but the memory still lingered.

 Dream hummed in thought.

 “Do you have the other trials planned out?”

 The god of music nodded, paused, and shook his head. “I have the next one mostly planned out, but I don’t know what the third one will be yet,” he elaborated.

 “If he is as good as you’re saying, then I want to fight him.”

 Wilbur finally looked away from his work to give the god an odd look.

 Dream nodded his head towards the projecting Phil and Tommy were fawning over. “He killed a wyvern with two attacks, and under 4 minutes. Even with him losing a limb, that’s amazing.”

 The god of music paused, and then turned back to the trial. “I’ll consider it.”

 “I want in on the second trial then.” Philza stood up from the projection.

 “That’s fairly doable. Give me a few days to adjust some things. I’ll come get you when he finishes this trial.” Wilbur moved a few more things around on his workspace.

 Phil nodded. The winged god glanced back at his brother who was still enraptured by the bloodied man in the projection.

 “Tommy, are you ready to go?”

 The younger god hadn’t gotten the hang of warping out of other’s domains, so he needed help most of the time.

 The god of excitement looked up from the image of Technoblade in front of him, and said, “Yeah, I can go.” He turned to Wilbur. “You said there's nothing else planned for this trial, right?”

 “Yeah. It’s gonna take him a few more days to get to the center of the maze, but there’s no other monsters waiting.”

 “Yeah, then I’m good to go.” Tommy stood up from the platform and strolled over to Phil. The winged god set a hand on the younger’s shoulder, and then they were gone.

 Dream gave Wilbur a nod, and vanished as well, leaving the deity, once again, to his own devices.

 ---

 After several more days of marking the wall with the blade of his weapon, Techno reached the beacon of light in the center. The bright beam hurt his eyes. A stone button sat on a podium in the middle of the room.

 Shifting his axe to his other hand, Techno paused for a moment, and then pressed the mechanism.

 And he was back on the marble pillar in the void.

 Wilbur was once again standing on another pillar, as gaudy and brilliant as before.

 “Congratulations, Technoblade! You’ve completed your first trial.”

 Techno placidly watched as the god gestured dramatically to him.

 “You did much better than I expected, to be honest.”

 “You didn’t expect me to survive,” Techno translated.

 The deity leaned back on his heels and brought his hand to his chin with a mock thoughtful expression in his face. “Well, no.” He lowered his hand a bit, turning his eyes back to the monster hunter. “People don’t survive getting mauled by a gryphon or losing an arm to a wyvern. And they definitely don’t survive a staring match with a cockatrice.”

 Techno shrugged. “Being cursed sucks.”

 Wilbur stopped in motion for a moment, before regaining his energy. “Well, I think you’ll enjoy this next test much more.”

 The man blinked, unimpressed. “Is it going to be another maze?”

 “It probably won’t be another maze.”

 “I’ll take it.”

 With a smile on his face, the god raised a hand. “I hope to see you again soon, Technoblade!”

 He snapped, and the pillar disappeared from under the monster hunter’s feet, plunging him back into the dark below.

[katehuntington]

Title: In Bad Waters - part twelve Word count: ±2750 words Episode summary: Still in possession of the Winchesters’ belongings, Zoë meets up with the hunters on her next case. When it turns out to be a little more complicated than anticipated, she accepts their help in order to make an important deadline. Part twelve summary: The only way to find out the truth about Laura, is to start digging even deeper. Episode warnings: Dark! NSFW, 18+ only! Descriptions of domestic violence/child abuse. Drug use/addiction. Angst, gore, violence, character death. Description of blood, injury and medical procedures/resuscitation. Swearing, alcoholism. Supernatural creatures/entities, mentions of demon possession. Descriptions of torture and murder, drowning. Illegal/criminal practices. Mentions of nightmares and flashbacks. Author’s note: Beta’d by @winchest09​ and @deanwanddamons​​​​​​​​​. Thanks, girls! Gif credit: @demondetoxmanual​.

Supernatural: The Sullivan Series Masterlist

S1E02 “In Bad Waters” Masterlist

     “Dead as a dodo,” the oldest of the Winchester brothers states over the phone, as he exits Arkansas Methodist Medical Center, Zoë by his side.      Before they drove to the hospital, the hunters dropped Sam off at the Shire residence, so that he could make sure the family wouldn’t get targeted. Laura has proven to be relentless, and they didn’t want to risk the family getting killed as well.

     “Laura attacked him while other people were around?” Sam, who is on the line with his brother, is clearly surprised.      “She didn’t. She waited until he went to the supply storage, alone,” Dean tells. “Same deal; beat up, broken neck.”      Sam cuts to the chase. “We have to figure this out fast. The only other people who may know something about Laura’s location is what’s left of the Shire family.”      “You got eyes?” Dean checks, knowing Sam is staking out the residence on Lake Front Lane.      “Yeah. So far so good.”      “Make sure he keeps them in sight at all costs. Use an excuse and get into the house if he has to,” Zoë suggests, only catching half of the conversation.

     Dean glances aside at the woman next to him. She has changed into a clean shirt, one that doesn’t have her own blood on it. Back at the Hampton Inn, she taped her right side, relieving some of the pressure from her aching ribs. After a quick touch up of her hair and make-up, one could barely tell she just got attacked by an angry spirit. Her walk is slightly stiff, but the bruising she suffered is sufficiently masked, her brown curls falling over the gash on her hairline, which she closed with butterfly stitches.

     With a groan she lowers herself in the front seat of the Impala, muttering ‘fuck’ under her breath when fractures send a sharp pain through her body.      Dean notices when he gets into the car as well, but doesn’t comment on it. Instead he puts his phone on speaker, now that the Impala provides them the safety to talk freely. “Zo says that when you lose sight of them, you better get inside. Tell them you’re insurance or somethin’.”

     “Will do. Did you guys manage to get Laura’s medical records?”      “We did. Let’s see what we have here.” The older Winchester pulls a folder from the inside of his leather coat. He opens it, about to leaf through the documents, when Zoë snatches it from his hands. “Hey!”      “Like you could make sense of what’s in here,” she scolds.

   She wets her finger and flips the page. A huff escapes her throat as she reads the file, shaking her head, disapproving. “1999, age four; skull fracture of the parietal, supposedly fell off her bike. 2001, age six; fracture of the left ulna. 2003, age eight, multiple fractures, right radius, she needed surgery for that. Same year, broken carpal bones, right wrist, this time it was the trampoline's fault. It goes on.”      “Fucking bastard…” Dean scoffs.      “And no one picked up on this?” Sam wonders.      “Perks of the dad being Chief of surgery.” Zoë holds an X-ray against the light. “Good news for us is that we should be able to determine now if it’s Laura in that grave or not. Especially her right arm, which was screwed back together.”

     “Only one way to find out. Looks like your gonna pay Linwood Cemetery another visit,” Dean says, turning the key in the ignition. The V8 engine comes to life with a roar, a song by The Kinks called ‘You Really Got Me’ playing on the local radio station.

     “You know you and Zo have to stick together, right?” Sam brings to mind.      “Say what?” Dean replies, puzzled, before he pulls away from the curb.      “He’s right.” Zoë backs up the younger Winchester’s statement, glancing at the driver next to her. “Laura kills everyone who stops her, but only if they are alone. We already know she’s after me, and now you shot her through the head, so I’m guessing you moved up her murder list.”      “Well that’s a comforting thought.” Dean breathes out, once realization sets in. “What about you, Sam?”      “I don’t think she’ll come after me. I never actually had contact with her, unlike you guys,” Sam explains.      “So basically, I’m stuck with her?” Dean nods his head at the young woman next to him, even though his brother can’t see it.      “Hey, still in the car,” Zoë snarls, crossing her arms in front of her chest. She then continues to correct herself, in her usual brazenness. “Excuse my French. I’m still in the ‘67 Chevrolet Impala.”

     Dean’s jaw clenches as he fights the urge to pull the gun from the glove compartment and shoot her. He’s getting pretty tired of her smartass comments.      “He has a point, though,” Sam intervenes. “Whatever happens, you two have to stick together, or it will be the end of you. The second one of you ends up alone…”      Sam leaves the rest of the words unsaid, because no one needs to hear them to understand. If Dean and Zoë get separated, they will die, and especially the huntress is not particularly happy about that matter.

     “Great. My lucky day,” Zoë mutters sarcastically, after which she looks away and watches the houses rush by.      “Do I have to remind you that I just saved your ass?” Dean recalls.      The huntress huffs, of course he has to bring that up. “I didn't need your--”      “Oh, come on! Don't start that bullshit with me,” the oldest Winchester counters, letting out a laugh. No way in hell she’s going to win this argument. “What were you planning to do exactly after Laura pinned you to the wall and was a second from snapping your neck, huh?”

     “Could you two stop bitching at each other for one fucking second?!”      Dean looks at the phone on the dashboard. For a moment there, he forgot Sam was still a part of this conversation. The younger Winchester clearly has had enough of their bickering and fighting, because it’s not often that the respectable sibling curses. The outburst helps, because both shut up instantly.

     “Thank you,” Sam sighs and continues on his theory. “Dean, you dig up that body, I’ll keep an eye on the Shires.”      The Impala comes to a stop before a traffic light, crossing cars not allowing Dean to run the stop sign. “What about Miss Congeniality over here?”      “She can’t dig. She broke her ribs.” Sam states, matter of factly.

     Zoë, who still had her arms crossed in front of her, now turns herself to watch the hunter’s reaction. The amusement that bubbles inside of her makes it impossible to suppress the wide smirk on her lips when she notices Dean translating the true meaning of Sam’s message. For once in her life, she is not going to disagree with Sam, because this is playing itself out beautifully.      “So, I’m gonna have to dig up a coffin while she stands there being pretty?!” he almost exclaims.      “Ah-uh.”      “I have no issues with that, whatsoever.” Zoë agrees, adding fuel to the fire.      “Of course you don’t, you--” Dean shuts himself up, biting his tongue before he says something he might regret. He’s only at an arm's length away from her, plus he’s driving his precious car. The huntress might be hurt, but she can still do some serious damage.      “Alright, Sammy. You stay put, and be careful, okay?” he presses. “Who knows what that mini poltergeist has up her sleeve.”      “I’ll be safe,” his younger brother promises. “You guys too, alright? See you in a bit.”

     The sun is about to sink behind the horizon and golden hour is upon them. The heavens are colored in a dark shade of blue, gradually turning lighter in the west, where apricot and merigold fire up the sky. It’s getting chilly, autumn bringing down the temperatures at dusk. Nocturnal animals come to life, a barn owl hooting in the distance. The cemetery’s gates closed an hour ago, offering the hunters the peace and quiet needed to stay undetected.

     This time it’s not the huntress who is shuffling dirt. In fact, she’s casually sitting on the tombstone next to Laura’s, her legs crossed like the lady that she is, watching Dean do all the hard work. While filing her nails, Zoë cannot help but admire the scenery, and it’s not the pretty sunset. The Winchester in her company is working his way into the ground, scooping dirt over his shoulder with steady amounts. He shed his jacket and his grey shirt is clinging to his clammy torso, perspiration shimmering on his exposed skin. Muscles roll beneath the fabric of the thin tee and his biceps flex with every motion, a glimpse of a tattoo peeking from under the right sleeve. The huntress might want to bite his head off most of the time, but even she has to admit; Dean’s is easy on the eyes.

     “Like what you see?” Dean grins mischievously, having noticed her appreciating looks.      Zoë isn’t at all thrown off balance by his remark, however. “Really? You objectify women all the fucking time, and you’re calling me out?”      “Touché,” he chuckles, not slowing down for a second. “Just sayin’, the last time someone looked at me like that, I got laid.”      Zoë scoffs, finding his assumption entertaining. “Keep on dreaming, Casanova. I’m more likely to die before ending up between the sheets with you.”

     “Well…” Dean swings more ground out of the hole, groaning at the increasing ache in his left shoulder. His eyes are still mischievous, and so is the smirk on his lips. “Let’s get that mini poltergeist off your tail, and we’ll talk again.”      Zoë rolls her eyes. This arrogant prick doesn’t know when to stop, does he?      “Like I said; keep on dreaming. Now what the hell is taking you so long?” she judges. “It’s only six feet and the ground is already loose.”      “Oh, I’m sorry. Maybe if you hadn't put a bullet in my shoulder two days ago, I’d dig a little faster!” Dean snaps, glaring at the person who has been giving him orders all day.      “Don’t be such a baby. It didn’t even hit the joint,” Zoë scoffs, blowing the dusty residue from her fingertips. “Now would you hurry it up? I have places to be.”

     Gritting his teeth, the hunter dumps another load of soil on the grass besides the grave. I swear to God, one of these days a spirit will be the last of her worries.      “Maybe if you had paid attention when you fucking lit the kid in the first place, you could’ve left town hours ago.”      “Maybe if your brother hadn’t distracted me, I would have. But you asshats tend to ruin other people's cases,” Zoë counters, rapidly.      “Hey, we are just trying to help! Do I have to remind you who’s doing the actual dirty work here?” Dean pauses his actions. “Why don’t you get off your throne of thorns, princess. I’m nearly there.”

     Zoë cocks back her head back; did he just call her ‘princess’? Her eyes shoot flames at the intolerable guy, her mouth opening to send back a remark, when the metal shovel collides with the wooden casket. The hollow sound catches Zoë’s attention and she gets up. “Fucking finally.”

     Dean hoists himself out of the hole, making room to lift up the lid and exposing the remains. He was going to offer the huntress a hand to get into the grave, but he can’t be bothered now; she can figure out how to lower herself if she’s being such a bitch. She doesn’t ask either, and sits down on the edge, sliding down with a grunt. The older Winchester watches her descent, the light of her flashlight shimmering on his features as she turns it on and places it on the corner of the coffin.

     “How are we supposed to tell if this is Laura or not? You already burned her bones to crisp,” Dean wonders, wiping the sweat off his brow with the back of his hand.      “Because they aren’t burned to crisp. A salt and burn doesn’t actually destroy them like an oven would when cremated,” the huntress explains wisely, pulling on a pair of latex gloves from her pocket and putting them on as she crouches down.

     “So what’s the crime scene telling you, Horatio?” Dean wonders, shining his flashlight down on the skeleton.      Zoë doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, she clears the burned clothing and half deteriorated skin and muscle tissue from the right arm of the girl in the coffin. She rubs her thumb over the radius bone, swiping away the ash and grime. There are no signs of a healed break, nor has the arm ever been screwed and bolted back together.      “This isn’t Laura,” she knows.      “Well, shit,” Dean responds, staggered. “If this ain’t her, then where the hell is she?”      “Good question.” Zoë rises again, going over the clues they have gathered so far. “Let’s head to the Shire house, get back to Sam. We gotta figure this out, fast.”

     The two hunters pack up, Dean hauling the dirt back into the grave while Zoë gathers his jacket and the torches. It takes him less longer than digging the hole in the first place, even though he has to bite through the pain. Not wanting to let Zoë know and give him a reason to scold him again, he keeps his mouth shut.

     Thirty minutes later, the driver of the Chevrolet settles down on the front seat, closing the door behind him. “Where to?”      Zoë has already pulled her laptop out, studying the map of Paragould on the screen. “Highway 412 up west, right on Reynolds Road, and then take left on Reynolds Park Road.”      Dean guides the Chevrolet back onto the street, focused on traffic while the passenger takes in the moving world outside the window. The sinking sun sends an orange glow through the Impala, reflecting on the polished hood of the classic car. They are losing light, they are losing time.

     When the driver glances aside briefly, he detects the pondering frown knitted between Zoë’s eyebrows.      “Do you happen to see any bright ideas in that thousand mile stare?” he wonders.      “We can’t split up, so we have to find Laura’s body and figure out how she relocates with the information we already have,” she says, thinking out loud.      Dean brainstorms. “Maybe the way she relocates is a clue on itself.”

     Zoë lets the air fall from her lips while thinking about that, trying to make sense of it all. “She can jump houses, but stays in a certain area. The principal’s home, the hospital, the Dawlson’s house, they are not far from each other, but what connects them?”      “When you saw her, she was wet through, right? That has to mean something,” the older Winchester brother contemplates.      “Yeah, but doesn’t make any sense. We know she didn’t drown,” she ponders, glancing aside at the driver as he turns on Reynolds Park Road.      “What if it has something to do with the cover up of her cause of death and not with her death itself?” Dean brings to mind.

     Suddenly, it clicks. Her eyes grow wide as she straightens herself, her eyes now locked on what’s in front of her. The Reynolds Park Lake comes into view, the last of the evening light reflecting on the surface. It seems peaceful and quiet at this hour, but it becomes very clear to her that these waters hold a dark secret.      “The lake…” she huffs. “The park lake has a water purification system. It provides water to the town.”      Dean follows her gaze. It only takes a second before the penny drops. “So that’s how she travels.”

     It all makes sense now. Why Sam’s vision showed the sprinklers when he saw Taylor Dawlson get attacked. Why the faucets in Zoë’s hotel room opened right before she manifested. She’s not six feet in the ground, she’s six feet under water.      “Little Laura took a swim,” Zoë realizes.

     Stunned that they actually managed to crack the case, she glances aside at the green-eyed hunter, who shares a knowing look with her, a small smirk playing on his lips. They finally know what happened, before and after the girl’s death. All they have to do now is find the remains so they can put the spirit to rest, and who knows, maybe Zoë will make that deadline after all.

Thank you for reading. I appreciate every single one of you, but if you do want to give me some extra love, you are free to like or reblog my work, shoot me a message or buy me coffee (Link to Kofi in bio at the top of the page). 

Read chapter thirteen here