#To be clear I'm visiting my parents they aren't dead

[salute-the-magpie]

I thought my fixation on the magnus protocol had died down, but since it's been on hiatus again I've realize how important a part of my week it was. The biggest is getting to talk to my roommate about the new episodes every week.

[pikapitou]

murk!!! TRICK or TREAT!!!!! 🙀😈🤡💀

happy halloweennnnn!!! here's MY 600 words of presumed deaddie I won't finish

While Eddie is missing, Buck makes breakfast. Lunch. Dinner, too. Three meals a day, with occasional baking before he ran through the bag of flour and the freezer couldn't hold any more cookies. Between tasks his thoughts skip. Work, laundry, dinner, work. He doesn't remember anything from the gaps. Sometimes he considers, distant like it's coming from another room—is this normal? Then he has to go wash the dishes by hand, because loading the dishwasher doesn't take long enough.

The only time his thoughts run continuously is when he's with Chris. Driving him to school or having dinner or watching something before bed. Those times Buck holds onto every detail. He sits fully inside of his aching body with wet eyes and tries to—he just tries really hard. People keep telling him without telling him—you're not doing this right. You have to prepare him. Buck—can't do that, so he made Chris therapy appointments. When they drove to the first one Chris crossed his arms and refused to leave the passenger seat. They sat in the parking lot for ten minutes before Buck gave in or gave up and took them to In & Out instead.

This isn't like after the shooting, where Eddie was in a real physical room that you could visit, have face-times in, imagine in clear, crisp detail. Half of Buck had been in that hospital room. Buck could say: your dad is sleeping. Your dad is okay. Eddie's okay right now, because of course he's okay, they just... don't know where he is. So half of Buck is—floating, un-anchored. Somewhere. And all Buck can say is, we have to be patient and trust him, okay? while Chris stares at him like he's thinking something Buck really doesn't want him to say.

Bobby's in Eddie's kitchen. Buck doesn't remember letting him in, but he's here. Last time he was here was after Buck called him, vaguely explaining that Eddie was struggling, that his friends from the army were dead. There was a reason for Bobby to be there, then. There's not a reason for him to be here now, because Eddie is okay.

"How are you holding up?" Bobby asks, carefully neutral expression on his face.

"It's hard," Buck says, because people react better to that than I'm fine. They react a whole lot better than they do to Why are you asking me that? Why aren't you looking for Eddie? Why aren't you letting me look for Eddie?

"Have you..." Bobby lifts his mug of tea then puts it back down. Did he get that himself? Did Buck make it for him? Buck blinks at it until he hears his name, "Buck. Have you called Eddie's parents?"

Buck stares at him.

"They haven't found him," Buck says. "They haven't found him yet, so why do I have to call them?"

"They deserve to know, Buck."

"Why? They don't care about him. They just want Chris."

An expression crosses over Bobby's face—pained and uncomfortable and very, very sorry. Everyone looks at him like that lately. "Having family around could be good for Chris."

Buck doesn't understand. Abuela is here. Pepa is here. Buck is—it dawns on him: Bobby doesn't know. Nobody knows. Buck isn't even sure if Chris knows. And that's fine, because nobody was supposed to know, because the only time it matters is if Eddie were—which he's not.

So it doesn't matter what Bobby thinks.

A knock on the door again. Buck doesn't know how much time has passed. He did a shift, so it has to be at least twenty-four hours. A flight from El Paso to LA takes two. Eddie's parents are standing on the doorstep.

[utilitycaster]

@disastergenius replied to your post “perhaps unpopular but while I do agree the EXU...”:

re: this party doesn't talk much; i think that narratively, fcg's death isn't the call for them to talk in the way that molly's was? Molly's death happened early and bc of molly, but it was the wake-up call the party needed while separated and to actually begin to work together. bh's have different problems and fcg's death wasn't a result of party but was fcg's decision. so it also makes sense that it's not bringing the group together or anything, it's just mourning

​So I think this is part of it but I also wanted to post this as a full response because I've been thinking a lot about this! In short...having experienced a death within a friend group, people respond in weird ways, and for the most part, with the caveat that this was a friend among my friends from college and she died when we were all adults in various different cities and therefore not necessarily closely in touch all the time, we did not have a big sit-down and go around talking about our feelings. It's much slower. And I've talked a lot with people who have experienced a death within a friend group that was closer. Sometimes the group falls apart dramatically. Sometimes it just drifts apart. Sometimes it's sort of a weird blank space no one knows how to deal with.

I found Ashton's behavior in particular to be really well done on Taliesin's part and deeply affecting. They're exhausted not just mechanically but emotionally, and they don't want to really talk to anyone, but they do very much want some kind of comfort that doesn't require a lot of effort and most importantly, they don't want to be alone. When I had to learn about the (Jewish) religious practices surrounding grief and mourning, one of the things they tell you about sitting shiva (and to be clear this is not unique to shiva, it's just that Judaism has very clear time delineations of the mourning process) is that sometimes you just go there and sit with someone who doesn't want to talk much. His reaction felt incredibly real and natural, is what I'm saying. Grief can be isolating and tiring and difficult to talk about.

It feels right for the others too. Like...we can talk about the rapid pacing but that's been the case for much of the campaign, and no, I didn't like the EXU decision but what's done is done. I think deciding to, as Chetney said in 92, "make it count" seems very natural. I do hope there are conversations in Zadash and/or Aeor but at this point "we're drunk and tired and aren't ready to really feel this", especially since in-world, everything might be over in a week or so, makes a lot of sense. I also think FCG's death has united the party at least in the sense of purpose, and I think some people just dislike that the purpose is "double down on the moon plot." I think at the very least we'll have to visit it when they tell Imahara Joe (and hopefully Dancer, too.)

Ultimately, again, while I do love the episodes after Molly's death, episode 27 only has three party members in it, and episode 30 is arguably more about Fjord and Jester and Yasha being rescued (and on a meta level, welcoming Travis and Laura back to the table after parental leave) and incorporating Caduceus into the group as it is about Molly being dead. A lot of the conversations are about that, and 31 is very much about fucking around in Zadash and doing weird shit! Jester and Veth make Molly illusions not long after while on Darktow! The effects of Molly's death ripple through, quite honestly, the entire rest of the campaign and the grief is very nonlinear. Again, I adore episode 2x30, but I think one should be careful not to overly romanticize it; the party is still very much working through those initial feelings throughout the entire pirates arc, which takes place over the span of a couple of months. Bells Hells might not have months, and it might not get explored to the same extent, but I do think we'll see the effects nonetheless.

[nonbinary-sticks-the-badger]

to me, NiGHTS is so easy to interpret as a trans allegory, especially the original. with JoD having a cutscene for almost every level, the plot is less ambiguous, and while i still think it can be read as trans, i don't think it's as clear as NID.

first of all, i'll get the obvious part out of the way: NiGHTS themself is canonically nonbinary (or at the very least in some way gender non-conforming). they canonically go mostly by they/them but really accept any pronouns or honorifics. while in their case, this might not necessarily be a form of being trans, seeing as they aren't human, they're also the only explicitly nonbinary nightmaren, so they may have had some kind of originally assigned gender that they later rejected. that to be said, this isn't why i think the story is trans, rather an added bonus.

more importantly, the main think that links every visitor is anxiety and the plot is always about their journey to recovery. while anxiety isn't an explicitly trans thing, it's anxiety about self expression - singing for claris, playing the violin for helen, football for will and basketball for elliot. dreams are their only escape from these fears, with the dreams themselves being riddled with nightmares. this lack of self expression is so obvious that i dont think i need to explain it, with the dreams being similar to being in a queer community; it's freeing, yes, but often even these communities have issues - maybe you're the "wrong type of queer" or you're in another oppressed group the other members of your community don't care to understand or accomodate for.

now admittedly, all the visitors we see are presumably white and while some headcanons are popular (wheelchair/cane user helen is one i see a lot), none of them are canonically disabled. in that sense, i suppose you could interpret it instead as the fear of being outed, however i think completely ignoring my original interpretation in some ways ignores the struggles you may face even in queer communities where people are supposed to be accepting.

i think part of the reason claris and elliot especially speak to me as being trans is 1) because they're older and are more likely to have realised these things and faced oppression for it, 2) as i said before, because the plot of NID is much more ambiguous and 3) small, insignificant things, like the bias i have because i prefer them as characters as well as the fact that their hair is blue and pink. like the trans flag. while i think helen and will's stories being about their relationships with their parents is honestly a more concrete link in some ways, if elliot and helen go wrong they fear their entire social lives could be ruined rather than just their parental ones. i am aware that their parents are mentioned on the japanese website, however i'm pretty sure everything is lost in translation because it barely makes any sense to me.

ALSO! i think it's important to mention that my source here is the NiGHTS wiki, hosted on fandom.com, and while i can't be sure, the articles on claris and elliot's parents honestly read as being sort of. ai generated? regardless, definitely not telligible. surprisingly, the links aren't dead, however the translations i get from my translator extension are. janky to say the least. if anyone has a good understanding of japanese though, i do think the website is worth a visit!

something important id like to mention is the importance of courage. arguably the most important ideya of them all and something "they" can't take away from you no matter what, as well as being the only thing that allows them to overcome their anxiety in the first place. im not saying that courage is an inherently trans ideal, however you need courage to simply EXIST as a trans person - either the courage to pretend to be someone you're not or the courage to become that person, both of which will bring intense hardship that can shape the rest of your life and how long it even lasts. i'll try not to get too morbid, especially with how at this point simply mentioning suicide or murder feels like some kind of offesive characature, but if you're in a hostile enough environment, making the "wrong" decision can literally mean life or death, whichever that may be. courage is absolutely integral to both trans identity and the plot of NiGHTS, to the point where i feel it's stupid not to mention it

i don't really want to put a conclusion because i want it to be an open discussion. whether you write an entire thesis or a short jokey sentence, i'm interested in what you have to say!

[dreamersinthedaylightinspo]

LAMENT AFTER THE END, PART I

Once they had recovered their treasures - those few precious tomes that Amarantha had looted from their sacred libraries - Helion winnowed his entire Court away from the mountain.

He did not have a destination in mind, apart from "away." So they landed on the northern base, crowded in rocks and barren grasslands, breathing in the fresh air of Dawn.

Several people collapsed around him. Others wailed, or burst into tears.

Relief.

Helion tilted his head back to the thin mountain sun and felt the magic coursing through his veins. His own magic, his family's ancient magic, the Light of Day, which had now officially passed to him.

It felt strange - uncomfortable, too large and awkward, and yet like something was still missing inside of him.

Perhaps he just was imagining things, though.

Or perhaps -

He turned to regard the crowd. His Court, the Day Court. The weight of what he was about to do - to endure - fell over him, choking him. His throat began to burn; his very eyes began to ache.

And yet there was one thing - the worst thing - that he needed to do first.

Helion’s feet moved him to where Daphne sat, still clutching her dead fiance and stroking the side of his face, as if she were soothing him to sleep. Her face was wet with tears but her eyes were slightly fogged over; she appeared not to have noticed the winnowing at all.

"Daphne." He crouched down in front of her, and spoke in a low, soft voice. "Daphne, can you look at me?"

She didn't respond, but her eyes cleared slightly and her mouth pressed tight together.

"Its alright. I just need you to listen to me for a little bit. We're safe now. We're free. Do you understand?"

Daphne’s continued movements took on a more deliberate cadence. She clutched Thales tightly, knuckles pressing bright against the skin of her thin, small hands.

She looked like her mother, before the changeling sickness had taken Theano into eternity. Helion closed his eyes.

"You have to let him go now," said Helion. "I'm sorry, my love. It's time. We have to take him home."

"We aren't going home," Daphne replied, flat and quiet. "We'll go to Rhodes."

"That's right."

"So, I will never go home again."

Helion sighed. "Not for a long time, I expect. But someday, very soon, we'll go back to visit."

Daphne said nothing for a long time. Helion waited for her to wrap her mond around this. What was to come would be hard on all of their Court, but on her most of all. Daphne had not asked to have this kind of responsibility; she'd never expressed any desire to have power, to rule. She would have been terribly happy as the bride of a penniless poet, thought Helion, and this world was unbearably cruel in denying her that future. But they couldn't live on dreams. They had to exist in this reality, and she would have to accept that now, no matter how painful it was.

"What are you going to do?" said Daphne, at last, gazing down at Thales. "His parents are gone. But his sister - can you find her?"

Helion would have promised her anything - the whole world - in that moment. There were rumors of surviving Keepers in Rhodes but at this moment, Helion had no way of verifying them. Thales had believed in his sister's survival, and had carried that faith to his grave. Now, Helion clung to that belief in turn. "I'll find her. She'll be the first to know. I promise."

Daphne nodded, and sniffed loudly, a fresh wave of tears beginning to well in her eyes.

Desperately, Helion went on: "Darling, I know that this isn't easy. I know, I know. You've already been so brave but I need you to be brave a little longer. We'll honor him. I promise. This whole Court - all of us - we will grieve with you. Let us share your burden. Please, my love. Please, just let him go."

Daphne went very still, and her eyes went wide. Slowly, she looked up at him - and that look on her face. Helion realized his error at once. She'd had that same look, when he arrived late to her mother's funeral all those decades ago.

It was rage. It was pure, unfathomable rage.

"This whole Court?" Daphne whispered. "You mean that - no. Why would you do that? Its not fair. You can't do that."

Helion bit his tongue, cursed himself straight into Hell. "Daphne -"

"No. No, you can't do that."

Her voice rose with each word. Now people were staring at them openly - the High Lord, pleading with the girl who'd lost her beloved, not understanding what was really happening. Not realizing what a horrible mistake that Helion had made.

"Daphne," said Helion. "Please."

"No. No. No. No!" Daphne shook her head. "I won't let you!"

"Daphne -"

"Please."

That was what she said but her voice sounded like she was being ripped in two. She began to sob, such a horrible, heartbroken sobbing, that Helion physically recoiled, getting to his feet and stepping away. Even those who had pretended not to be observing them before now stared openly, in horror.

"You can't," Daphne wailed. "He's mine, you can't take him, you can't do this to me, please, please don't take him away, you can't make me, I won't do it, I won't, I won't, I can't -"

She let out an agonized scream, and rocked back and forth, clutching Thales to her and burying her face in his hair, and it was as if all the pain and the fear she'd held in check for fifty years came pouring out of her at once.

Helion felt bile rise to his throat. He bit his cheek until he tasted blood, squeezed his eyes shut like a child hiding from a broken vase. Knowing that it was his fault, wishing that he could take it back, that his mistake would disappear.

She would have run into the center of the throne room and thrown herself between Thales and the Cursebreaker, if he had let her.

So, Helion had held her down with his own hands, and she had watched.

////

It was Phoebe, the young wife of a minister, who finally calmed Daphne. Once she finally fell silent, more owing to the fact that she was too exhausted to sob anymore, Daphne calmly requested to take a sedative. She still did not let go of Thales's body. In the horrid, empty, sorrowful silence that followed, a few members of the Dawn Court arrived near their makeshift campgrounds, and invited them to the High Lord's residence.

Thesan was good-looking and composed, and managed to be gracious as a host. He took the Day Court in with few questions, and even fetched a healer for Daphne, and showed her to a private room overlooking the water gardens. Daphne was reluctant to relinquish Thales even then, but with the healer and Lady Phoebe's gentle coaxing, she finally did. Helion arranged for the initial funeral preparations right then and there, instructing the Dawn Court healers on the proper methods to prepare for a Day Court funeral. They nodded, and disappeared on gusts of floral-scented wind, taking the boy's body into a quiet space to prepare him.

Thesan posted two guards outside of Daphne's room, and instructed the healer to remain on standby. Lady Phoebe volunteered to stay as well, so that she might have a friendly face when she woke up.

Good, thought Helion, because Daphne would likely never speak to him again for as long as she lived.

When it was done, Thesan politely invited Helion to a meal, which they ate in silence. Helion found he could barely stomach anything other than a bowl of warm white rice, and Thesan, similarly, pushed food around his plate without any enthusiasm whatsoever. Afterwards, he declared that he would walk in the water gardens. Helion, feeling a bit like a ghost on the world's surface, agreed to join him.

The gardens were lively under the deepening purple twilight. The iridescent sheen on the palace walls - Helion had not even asked where they were, hadn't even thought of where Dawn might spirit them off to in their moment of vulnerability - cast pearlescent illusions over the green surface of pools full of lilies and lotus and brightly colored fish. Frogs croaked, and birds twittered from within low hanging trees.

"Its lovely," Helion remarked. The silence was starting to bother him, even if conversation felt exhausting. "You know, I've never been here before."

"Neither have I," said Thesan.

Ah, right. Thesan was also a new High Lord. Helion wondered if he'd ever been in this palace before, or any palace. As a lieutenant, he would have had some access, but Dawn closely guarded its secrets.

The two High Lords lapsed into an uncomfortable silence, eyes cast out at the lush water gardens of Dawn as the first stars began to appear.

"Thank you," said Helion. "Your generosity won't be forgotten." Then, he added, "Please, don't judge her. It's my fault that she..." It felt wrong to call Daphne’s grief an outburst, but it was something that Helion had never seen her do before. Even as a child, she never had tantrums. He hadn't realized the depths of her suffering these last fifty years, and he wished he'd been more perceptive, less foolhardy, in that moment when she was so raw and vulnerable.

He had tried to be the High Lord, when what Daphne needed was her father.

"I wouldn't dream of it. For what its worth, I wish someone would let me take a sedative," said Thesan, with a sigh. "Gods only know I haven't gotten a decent sleep in over fifty years."

Helion choked on his own surprised laugh. Thesan had made a point to avoid speaking with anyone outside of the Dawn Court while they were trapped Under the Mountain. It was good to know that he had a sense of humor under all of that prudent standoffishness.

But the humor didn't last. Helion thought of Daphne, asleep in a proper bed for the first time in fifty years. He thought of how she'd looked at him when they'd stepped into the sun and of how she might look at him when she woke from her induced sleep, the grief as fresh as ever.

"She'll never forgive me," he murmured. "I've done it this time."

Thesan was quiet a moment, and then, tentatively ventured. "If I may - what is she to you?"

"Oh," said Helion. "Only second or third most severe of my many personal failings."

It was horrible, thinking of it that way. Helion truly felt like the worst man alive. This now made three women whom he had utterly failed.

"I swore to her mother," said Helion, "that I would care for Daphne."

"She died?" Thesan murmured.

"A changeling," Helion explained, sighing. Of course, someone as brilliant and sharp as Theano had to be taken from this world before her time. "She lived three hundred years, when every healer swore she'd be dead in a fraction of the time. And if she were here now, she'd throttle me with her bare hands."

Thesan folded his arms, tilted his head back. "I've never really thought of it, you know. Raising children of my own - it seems an enormously daunting prospect."

Helion shrugged.

"Does anyone else know?" asked Thesan. "You two don't resemble one another very much, so I suppose that was how you managed to hide her all this time."

He was perceptive. Even Rhysand had never guessed that Helion might have legitimate children of his own, but then again, he had never seen Helion interact with Daphne, and Helion had put most of his remaining magic into carefully compartmentalizing his mind over the last fifty years. It might've taken Rhysand hours to break through his shields, and by then Amarantha would have been bored of him anyway. There was no torture he would not have endured, no horror he would not commit, if it meant keeping Daphne, his daughter, his greatest treasure, safe from Amarantha.

Here, Helion didn't bother to deny it; there was no point to keeping plausible deniability with Thesan, and it would have seemed wrong to lie, given all that he had done without nary so much as a thank you from any member of Day.

"Hardly anyone. My - my former partner," he amended, wincing with the sudden, unexpected ache of sadness. "Mirche was aware. As were most of the staff at my winery. But outside of Thira, I doubt there's anyone who knows the full truth."

Thesan nodded, all of accepting this. "I see. Well, if nothing else, I must congratulate you. Hiding palaces or cities is one thing, but to hide a child for so long, right under our noses - you are truly something else."

Helion shook his head. "I had decided to host a public mourning for the boy. That was why she..."

"She's young," said Thesan. "And she is grieving, perhaps more than any of us right now. All of us lost pieces of ourselves in that Mountain, but not all of us were forced to play a part in Amarantha’s last cruel joke. I know you did not ask for my opinion, but I believe that she will understand, one day."

He had a point. Or at least, Helion hoped that he did.

"What will you do now?" Helion asked him. "For your Court."

Thesan was quiet a moment. "Her name was Sacha. She did not finish her training, so she has no temple sisters, and she had no family living that we could find. But I will keep looking. I've told Hadrian - it doesn't feel right, for her to be unmourned."

This was the first time he'd learned the name of the Peregryn captain who had scarcely left Thesan's side in fifty years, despite the risk to himself if their relationship were to be exposed. Helion put a hand on his shoulder.

"You'll do well, as High Lord."

"As, I think, will you," said Thesan, gravely now. "Shall we go back inside?"

Neither of them would sleep, but that went unspoken. There was something comforting, in knowing that they were united in this. Helion had no recollection of any opinion on Dawn's former High Lord, but as he watched Thesan retreat into privacy and the doors slide closed behind him, he was, if not relieved from his burdens - at least he was not alone.

[denimbex1986]

'Andrew Scott has revealed what he believes to be the fate of his divisive character in the hit film All Of Us Strangers.

The actor, 48, played screenwriter Adam in the stirring movie which blurs the lines between reality and fantasy.

It's based on the 1987 novel Strangers by Taichi Yamada and in the end viewers are left questioning whether the protagonist has been dead or alive the whole time.

Now - weighing into a popular debate among fans - Adam has expressed that he 'doesn't believe' his character had passed away, which many theorise may be the case.

Speaking to The Guardian, he expressed: 'People have come up with extraordinarily personal and creative ideas about what they think the film is saying.

'All of Us Strangers is great because it ignites the audience's imaginations and sometimes there's a poverty of imagination in our movies.

'Sometimes, the worst thing you can do is to reduce the magic by over-explaining it. I guess that's my way of saying I'm not answering that.'

The movie has had people in tears since its release back in January with many believing it was overlooked at this year's award season.

The emotional drama starring Andrew and Paul Mescal ties together a beautiful romance with deep grief, as Andrew's character, Adam, remains deeply affected by the death of his parents (Claire Foy and Jamie Bell).

The film begins as we meet Adam living a life of solitude in his derelict high-rise city apartment in London.

Watching Frankie Goes To Hollywood performing The Power Of Love on his TV, a motif that continues to recur throughout the film, Adam then gets a knock on the door as he meets his neighbour Harry, played by Paul Mescal.

As Harry arrives drunk holding a bottle of whiskey he quotes the lyrics from the Frankie Goes To Hollywood hit, whispering: 'I'll protect you from the hooded claw/ Keep the vampires from your door'.

After asking Adam whether he can join him for the night, Adam declines, but he later meets Harry in the lift, and the pair begin a passionate relationship.

As Adam learns to love someone and let someone in, he remains deeply affected by the death of his parents after they both died in a car crash when he was 11 years old.

Throughout the film, Andrew continues to visit his parents in his childhood home, which is just as he remembered them in the 1980s.

After saying goodbye to his parents for the final time in a deeply emotional interaction, Adam appears ready to move on from his grief and begin a life with Harry.

However, he returns to Harry's flat to discover his dead body beside the same bottle of whiskey he was carrying when he turned up at Adam's door that first night.

As Adam stares in a state of shock at Harry's body, the door goes again and Harry enters wearing the same pink jumper from that first night as he asks: 'I'm in there, aren't I?'

When he weeps in Adam's arms it becomes clear - Harry has been dead the entire film after he died the night Adam declined to spend the night with him.

Yet once you realise, the clues throughout the film begin to present themselves.

Firstly, on the night they meet Harry is holding the same Japanese whiskey he is found with when he dies, and is wearing the same ratty pink jumper.

The pair are also the only two occupants in the building, and Harry mentions that the windows have been locked to stop people from jumping.

Adam then visits his parents as we learn for the first time that he can see dead people and interact with them in an incredibly lifelike way.

After his visit he meets Harry in the lift and their relationship begins. Growing closer throughout the film, the pair go on a blurry night out together and it gets increasingly difficult to make out what is real.

This is where things become rather confusing as after Adam takes a huge dose of ketamine is unclear what is reality.

As lights flash and the music blares, Harry disappears and Adam's vision becomes distorted as he struggles to make out if Harry is really there or not.

On the tube ride home Harry keeps appearing and disappearing as Adam loses his grasp of reality.

At the end of the film, Adam enters Harry's flat and finds an empty bag of drugs and bottle of whiskey before he sees Harry's body and realises he has overdosed.

It is implied that the body is in an advanced state of decomposition as Adam recoils from the smell - suggesting he has been dead for a long time and no one has noticed.

However, is Adam dead too?

Some theories suggest that the main character is also not alive, hence why he can interact with dead people so easily.

Adam strangely lives in an empty apartment block, perhaps implying that there is a reason no one else resides there or he doesn't really live there at all.

At the beginning of the film a fire alarm goes off, prompting one theory that Adam died in a fire that day, trapping his spirit with Harry.

Speaking about this theory, director Andrew Haigh said: 'Someone asked me the other day if they'd all died when the building burnt down. They said, "Oh, did the building burn down at the beginning or the end?" And I'm like, "Building burned down?"

'But it's because there's a fire alarm in the beginning, and I think someone thought that maybe when he went out and came back in again, they both burned to death in the apartment and the rest of it is some kind of purgatory

'I kind of like that idea, actually. I know lots of people think that maybe Adam is not alive and I can understand why they might think that. The opening shot is a strange shot and there are sometimes times that I think that maybe he's not alive as well.'

Another debate is whether the ghosts are real or not?

There is a theory that Adam's parents and Harry aren't actual ghosts and could just be figments of Adam's imagination.

Early on we learn that Adam is writing a script about his parents, therefore all the visits to his childhood home could be imagined as part of his project.

However, this doesn't explain why Adam is unable to understand that Harry is also a ghost even though he knows this is true of his parents.

Either way Adam has curated these figures in his life out of his own loneliness and grief as he struggles to move on from his childhood trauma and find his place in the world.'

[imqueerandadeer]

Hey yall I know I mostly post pjo fandom stuff on here but like I need to vent real quick, and if yall don't wanna read it then that's totally okay and i can't say I blame you anyways quick TW's mentions of dead naming and misgendering and kinda shitty parenting if yall aren't ready to here about that then by all means keep scrolling and do whatever you need to do to keep yourself safe ♡ /gen

So context, Hi i'm Ollie I'm 13, I'm half Thai and half white, I recently dyed my hair blue, I'm trans masc gender apathetic (I swear this information is important) and I'm going to go visit my grandpa for the ski week break. So, lets start with this when I visited my grandpa and uncle for thanksgiving I was charged with the impossible task of coming out to them; and yes that did happen but not exactly how you'd think, I have these bracelets that has my perfered name on it (obviously they still knew me by my deadname) and my uncle saw it and was like "whos Ollie," my mom then points to me and goes "them." (note that my pronouns are he/they and my parents half ass everything by just saying they and not he and calling me their child instead of their son because I guess it easier for them, because I suppose they'll never fully see me as their son) so like I didn't even get to come out to them myself.

Edit: I'm clearing out my drafts and I'm deciding to post this I'm doing a lot better dw :3

[ratralsis]

8. The Anniversary

Table of Contents

Kevin stepped down from the stepladder. "Merry Christmas," he said, wrapping Marigold in a big hug.

"It's still two weeks away, even with a star on the tree," she said, her arms at her sides as she was squeezed. Seeing his disappointment, she rolled her eyes and added, "Still, sure, Merry Christmas. When it gets here."

Kevin released her and took half a step back. "Do you know what today actually is?"

"The eleventh?" she ventured.

He sighed and imitated her eye roll, having seen it too many times by now not to be able to do so perfectly. "It's the first anniversary of the night we met," he said. He turned and looked up at their fake tree, its cheap plastic star shiny with metallic yellow paint. There were garlands around the window next to the tree, and a stuffed snowman watched them from the end table next to their sofa. A scented candle provided them with the fresh scent of artificial pine, its flickering light reflected on the star and in the snowman's little black eyes. "A year ago I was buying you coffee. Now we're decorating our home together and everything."

"I can't believe you remember that," she said. She picked up her mug of hot cocoa and slid in next to him, and he put an arm around her without thinking about it. "Though I can't help but feel it's a waste to spend time and money decorating when it's just the two of us."

"About that," Kevin said, turning his head away from her. He cleared his throat, and took a deep breath of pine scent. "I was wondering if you'd mind if my family came to visit."

"If you really want them to," she said. "I guess that'd be okay. We'll have to find a night when I'm not busy."

"How about if we invite Henry and your sisters, too?" Kevin asked, because, sometimes, it was worth it to push his luck and ask for everything.

From the corner of his eye, he could see Marigold's eyes dart from the tree up towards him. He pretended not to notice. "I don't think this apartment is big enough for that many people," she said. "Not to mention we'd be asking them to take a long trip to come all the way out here."

"We could do two different nights, maybe," he suggested. "I don't think my parents will mind not meeting Henry. I mean, I'm sure they'd like to, but, you know."

She drummed the slender fingers of one hand on the mug she held, then took a long sip as she thought it over. "We can ask them, I guess," she said. "It might be fun to show the place off to everybody."

"Oh, and speaking of our families," Kevin said, turning to look at her. "Maybe I'm overstepping, but have you considered going to, like, a DNA or genealogy site or something to see if we could learn more about your heritage? Track down some other blood relatives of yours?"

She beamed at him and looked into his eyes. His heart still skipped a beat when she did that. "We don't need to," she said. "I already know what I am."

"Okay, sure," Kevin said. "But look, it's nice to say you're a musician or you're a Spade or whatever, but aren't you curious?"

At that, she laughed, and Kevin tried to hide his flinch of surprise. "No, I mean I've already spit in a few different tubes over the years and sent it off to some of those places." Seeing the confusion on Kevin's face, she continued. "They're all a little bit different, but I can nail down my lineages to a few percentage points." She drew herself to her full unimpressive height and smirked. "Care to take a guess?"

"I do not," Kevin said immediately. "Not even a little."

"Oh, boo," she pouted. "You're no fun at all."

"Are you going to tell me?"

"Not until you guess," she teased, but Kevin shook his head. It seemed he was unlikely to find out the answer anytime soon, and that was fine with him. She went on. "I found some suspected fourth or fifth cousins through one of the sites, but they were dead ends as far as tracking down closer relatives went. But yes, I am also a musician, and a Spade, and a lot of other things."

"Well, I'm glad I asked before ordering any kits, then," Kevin said, then, because she was still standing tall and presenting an easy target, he decided to lean down and kiss her on the cheek, more to see how she'd react than anything else.

Fast as lightning, as though she'd expected him to try this, she grabbed the drawstrings of his purple hoodie and pulled him down to her level. "And you know," she whispered seductively into his ear, "if you ever get around to giving me that ring I found so cleverly tucked away on the top shelf of the closet where you think I can't reach, I could add a couple more things to the list of things that I am."

Kevin froze, and only partly because he was worried that she might tear his third-favorite hoodie if he moved too quickly. "Oh," he stammered, and licked his lips. "That's actually, um, that's my grandmother's old wedding ring, you see. My mom inherited it, and she gave it to me when I turned eighteen. For someday, she told me. I've sort of held onto it since then, in case, that is, it wasn't meant to…" He trailed off.

Marigold let go of the drawstrings and leaned back, her eyebrows bunched together in a hurt look that pained Kevin to see. She bit her lower lip, her shoulders slumped. He tried to gauge her reaction, hoping she wasn't too upset. "You mean it wasn't for me?" she asked.

He could see the disappointment in her eyes. Kevin thought fast, and, after a moment that he feared was still a little too long, asked, "Did you want it to be for you?"

Her gaze flicked to one side. She squared her small shoulders, then looked straight at him, searching for her answer. A year into their relationship, Kevin still never fully knew what she was thinking, but he could tell the wheels were spinning in her head as she struggled to reach her conclusion and find the words to say it.

"Yes," she said. "Don't you?"

He looked into her big, brown eyes, and felt his heart thumping against the inside of his chest. What did that ring mean to him, anyway? What did she?

She reached out and gently took his hand in hers, and he felt the roughness of the calluses on her fingertips. It had been long enough that he knew he'd never get used to the feeling he got when she locked eyes with him.

But he thought it might be worth it to spend his life trying anyway. "I do," he said, and he did.

[koneko-3]

Chapter 5 of "Light"

There stood my mother, staring into the camera. "Hi mom, it's been a while." She said with a bit of relief in her voice. "Ryuka finally went to sleep. She is just a blessing. Kiro's condition keeps getting worse by the days. I'm afraid he's going to hurt someone or even us." Her voice started to tremble with fear. "I love him so much, but I don't want him to hurt anyone, especially me and our daughter-" after that I paused the tape. "Kiro can't be a suspect." I said. "Your parents are dead aren't they?" Ryu asked. "Yes, they passed when I was only five..." "That rolls one suspect off our list." Ryu said confidently. I started to worry. "Wait, then who is left on our list? There's no one left right?" I started to freak out. Ryu grabbed my shoulder and sighed. "Ryuka, you need to calm down. Plus we have many other people to suspect." "People like who?! Ryu just tell me!!" His hand slid from my shoulder to now my arm. "Ryuka, can you please calm down for me?" I took a deep breath and sighed. "Okay, I'll try." My face turned to a light shade of pink. "There were a couple people around here before I found you when you arrived home from school. And I'm afraid your friend Tsukuba is one of them." He said calmly. I pushed him, "No, you're lying. Tsukuba would never kill anyone!" He clenched my hand while his face turned beet red. "Ryuka, I would never lie to you. Please believe me. We are getting closer to the truth I swear. I just need you to hold on." He looked up at me and let go of my hand. I was in shock and awe while he stood and was trying not to stare at me. "Ryu... do you like me?" I asked. He looked right back at me. "No Ryuka, I actually fell in love with you..." he said while trembling his words. In that moment I realized he was brave enough to even tell me this. So I decided I should confess as well. "Ryu... I-I actually feel the same way..." I trembled. Then he hugged me. "Ryuka, I-I love you!" He shouted. Both our faces were beet red. our lips touched at that moment. If felt like a sensation ive never felt before. I pushed him away. "What's wrong?" He asked. "This feels wrong." I said. He placed his arm around me. "Its okay, we dont have to tell anyone." He said casually as he started to kiss me again. I couldnt resist since it felt so great. "Okay, we have ti stop. We have work to do." I said abruptly. "Oh, your right. Im sorry this all just cane out all at once Ryuka. It kinda felt right." He said embarrassed. "If anything. Im not ready for a relationship just yet." "Its okay..." he started walking away. Both our faces we flushed red. I took the tape out of the player and took it with me as evidence.

The next day at school, i couldn't keep my eyes off him. He couldn't either. After class Setsuna approached me. "So whats the deal between you and Ryu?" "W-what do you mean?" I said trembling. "You two have been acting weird." "Eh, no we haven't." I said. She grunted. "Ryuka, I know you're lying!" She stood there with a fierce look in her eyes, demanding an honesty answer from me. I sighed, "Fine, just dont tell Margie. Me and Ryo kinda have a thing with each other." "I knew it!" She started started to do a small victory dance which made me feel embarrassed. "Setsuna can you please stop!" I yelled. She kept going and stuck her tongue out at me. I sighed. I regretted everything at that moment. From the moment we kissed to now Setsuna knowing. How am I going to get out of this?

Eventually Setsuna let up but i left before she could say anything else. I walked to the nearest diner as I held my umbrella in the summer rain. I only wanted to be alone and clear my mind after everything that has already happened to me. After I ate I visited the graves of what now is the home to gram gram and aunt Maki. I rain continued to fall but even harder now. Tears started to roll down my face as I remembered the memories of them both. I felt someone grabbed my shoulder. I turn around to see Ryu. "I figured I could find you here." He said with a reassuring smile. I stared at him. "Why are you here?" I asked him. "Because I care about you. Look I know everything was a little sudden-" I stopped him before he could say anymore. "Just leave me alone." He grabbed my hand as I tried to leave. "I'm not letting you go. At least not alone."

[kalivda]

Ghostly Visit (Gus Halper! Mischa Bachinski x Sister! Reader)

After the Cyclone incident, you get a visit from someone very familiar…warnings: angst, mentions of death

words: 1369

•••



The nightmares started after that fateful Monday. Waking up in a cold sweat wasn't the worst of it. However, it was the restless nights I spent alone in the cold dingy basement.

There used to be two people down here. Making the best out of a terrible situation. My adopted "parents" hated my brother and I. Despised us even. All because of our mom faking our ages. They didn't get the young children they wanted, but two rage and passion-filled Ukrainian twins.

The screeching of the rollercoaster was still in my ear. Watching the choir members fly off of the rollercoaster and falling to their impending dooms. A part of me feels glad I refused to get on the rollercoaster. But guilty my brother did.

I remember watching his body fly out of the rollercoaster and hit the concrete below. The screams of fair goers. The sickening crack each kid made after falling. It makes me want to-

I shot up from my sleep and ran to the tiny bathroom, vomiting my guts out in the toilet. Coughing a bit, I sat next to the it, sobbing my eyes out quietly. It wasn't fair. Why did he have to die? It should've been me. I should've went on the rollercoaster. I should've...

"Cестра (sister)?" A voice moved past my ears. "The hell..." I mutter, weakly standing on my feet.

"Do not freak out. It's me!" 'Is that...it can't be. Mischa's dead. Get it together, Y/n. You're being paranoid again.'

"Cестра?" The voice called out again, this time taking the shape of a boy. But sort of like a ghost. He was wearing a white button up with a sweater vest. I looked closely and noticed the St. Cassian's Chamber school logo.

"M-Mischa?" I asked, sniffling. "Who else would it be?" He asked, looking at me like I was dumb.

"W-wait...how is this...how is this happening?!" I almost yell, picking up the plunger near me as a weapon, my accent thickening."Really? You are going to fight me with a...." "Plunger!" I whisper-yell. "Right...a plunger? It wouldn't work. I'm a...ghost?"

Yep. That was Mischa alright. "Wait how are you even here right now? Talking to me? In our..."room"? Aren't you dead?" I asked him. "Yes! I am still dead. But a lot has happened. We met some fortune teller. And he knew you were my sister! I do not know how, but he did." I slowly nodded, hoping he would continue telling me this weird story.

"But now I guess...we're choosing someone to come back to life." He got quieter by the last part, but I heard him loud and clear. "Come back to life?! Mischa, that's so cool! Not to be biased or anything, but I think you should. You deserve it the most."

"And go back to that hellhole with our so-called "parents"? No thanks. I'd rather stay dead." My heart dropped at his sudden cold rage. "Mischa- what about Talia?" He stared at me and his face softened. "Talia...my divine Talia...I do not want to leave her, but I don't want the life I've had before."

"Mischa please! I can't keep doing this by myself! They hate me even more since the accident. Please..." I got choked up and was hiccuping over every little word at this point. "Y/n..." "I don't want to live anymore. Not if you aren't there! So PLEASE!" My voice broke and I began to sob quietly.

"соняшник (sunflower), listen to me. I need to do what's best for me. I'm fine with the 18 years I've spent with you. You need to find somewhere else to go. You need to find people that make you happy and find someone you love. Like how my shawty, Talia, and I do." I laughed a little at this comment.

"I truly love you. You were my best friend. My partner in crime. The only other person to leave me mostly positive reviews on my YouTube comment wall. I love you." Tears flowed from my eyes and fell onto my cheeks.

Little sparkles began to form it's way around my twin. "Mischa, what's happening?" I asked, concerned. "Ocean chose someone to live..." I almost jumped up, but contained myself. "And we're all passing onto the afterlife. Except for...I hear her name is Penny." He says. "Penny Lamb? Isn't that the one girl with the brother named Ezra?" I asked confused. "If that is who she is, then yes."

He sniffled a little. "Well this is the last time I think I will see you." A bittersweet smile came onto both of our faces. "I'll miss you, Mi." I said, my vision getting blurred from the tears. "You too, Y/n/n."

"Wait! Mischa, before you go...can you sing me that nursery rhyme that you sang to me all the time when we were younger? The one mom sang before she...died?" He looked down on me and nodded slightly, leaning towards me, giving some ghostly hug and he began to sing.

"Зірко, зірко, мерехти,

Недосяжна в небі mu!

(Star, star, twinkle,

You are faraway in heaven!)

Сяєш ніжно ти мені,

Мов коштовність у пітьмі!

(You shine tenderly for me,

Like a jewel in the dark!)

Зірко, зірко, мерехти,

Недосяжна в небі ти!

(Star, star, twinkle,

You are faraway in heaven!)

Щойно сонечко зайде,

Темрява накриє все.

(As soon as the sun goes down,

Darkness will cover everything.)

Зірко, в небі запалай!

Сон, малят оберігай!

(Star, light up in the sky!

Sleep, baby, beware!)

Зірко, зірко, мерехти,

Недосяжна в небі ти!

(Star, star, twinkle,

You are faraway in heaven!)

He began to sing again, but it sounded more faded, before no sound came at all. I began to doze off and eventually fell asleep under my dingy, thin sheet.

~

The next time I opened my eyes, it was time for me to go to school. I put on my uniform and did my hair in a decent way, to not make it look like I was just visited by my ghost brother. Before I walk up the basement stairs, something glimmers out of the corner of my eye.

Mischa's fake gold chain he won from some arcade. I take it quickly and put it on, fixing it up a little bit. Using my phone, I pull up my camera and check myself in the reflection.

"Perfect." I breathe out, running up the stairs and gently opening the door, my "father" unlocking it a few minutes ago.

I make my way out the front door and get to school, a memorial standing in the front. Seeing the choir's faces fill my heart with a pang of guilt.

"Um, excuse me?" A girl's voice spoke up. I turn and see a girl around my height with short black hair, freckles, and the brightest green eyes. "Yes?" "I'm sorry, I didn't introduce myself. I'm Penny. Penny Lamb." She holds her hand out for me to shake.

I slowly took her hand, wondering if I was dreaming. "I think you're Mischa's sister, Y/n? You guys look alike." She says fascinated and touching my (h/l), (h/c) hair. "You okay, Penny?" I asked. "Yeah! Actually...no. It's been a week since...ya know, and I wanted to know more about the kids that died. And since you're Mischa's sister, I was wondering if...you could...tell me about him." She asked. "Penny-" "Or don't! You don't have to!" "Penny-" "Forgive me if that was offensive, I know you're planning a funeral and everything-"

"Penny!" I shouted, some kids looking at me weirdly. "It's okay. I would love to tell you about Mischa. I can tell you about some of the other choir kids too like Ocean and Ricky." Her face shows one of shock, but excitement. "Okay! How about we get a coffee or something. At the Blackwood café this afternoon?" She asked.

"I'll see you there." I smile, watching her smile back and run into school. And Mischa's words came into mind:

"You need to find people that make you happy and find someone you love."

Maybe that just might be Penny.

[poptod]

Hello! Can I request a continuation of "To the touch"? Creepy stalker Safin adoring the reader while terrifying them was just *chefs kiss*

notes: i think i got seven people asking me for a part two to the poisonous flower bouqets story request thing that i did a little bit ago, so here it is! i tried to focus more on his characterization so iread up on him. i also had someone ask me to tag them for the first time so here it is; @moon-stars-soul

Here's the first part on AO3! and on tumblr WC: 4.6k

+

He visited you often, but it wasn't enough.

After that day in the hotel in which you were left crying, you returned home. You still thanked God he got a call that beckoned him away from you.

There was no use in trying to hide. That much was made very clear. You got used to the random gifts left on your table, the constant messages lighting up your rarely-used phone, and the idea of being watched, but there was yet another one of the anonymous man's habits that continued to puzzle and disturb you.

Sometimes he came to see you.

He broke into your home, leaving no sign of his breakage, but standing in your cluttered living room nonetheless. You opened and closed the door silently as you returned from work, your tired eyes set dead upon him. His attention was drawn to the vines hanging from your bookcases.

Setting your bag down, you quietly padded over into the kitchen, where you proceeded to draw a knife from the block, holding it tight in your clammy hands.

"I'm not looking to kill you," he said, never looking away from the books' spines. "You know that already."

"What if I'm looking to kill you?" You mumbled lowly.

He chuckled and said, "then I'll chain you up."

The breath was knocked out of your chest, but you didn't let it show, as he finally turned to you with a small smile spread across his tight lips. In a mere moment he was standing in front of you, nothing but softness in his expression.

"I think it'd be amusing," he murmured, tracing your jaw with his thumb. "Watching you struggle to try and choke me while I kiss you. I think it'd be beautiful. But I don't think it's what you want."

"Might be the only way it is."

"It doesn't have to be. Your life and your home are falling apart and you know it," he said, redirecting you by your chin when you tried to look away. "Come be with me... and I will give you all you ever want."

"How would you know what I want?" You asked stiffly.

"Do you think I've only recently started watching you?" He asked with a chuckle.

Your face drained of blood, the grip on your knife tightening, but remaining passive at your side.

"I have always been protecting you," he said, parting your lips with his thumb and leaning in.

Before he could touch your lips with his, your knife was positioned between your stomach and his, the sharp point brushing against his clothes. When he simply moved deeper, digging the knife closer into his chest, you stumbled backwards, dropping the knife to the floor and letting it clatter. Your breathing hastened, only stopping when he kissed you slow and soft. It was as though he was moving to music, hypnotizing you into relaxing, and pulling you into a close embrace.

He parted and pressed his forehead to yours, pushing you up against the kitchen counter with darkened eyes.

"So beautiful, aren't you?" He murmured, continuing to stroke your bare skin. "You would be Godly in my possession."

"I won't leave my home."

You lived in your ancestral home, and he was right––it was in shambles. It was too big and the wiring and designs were too old for you to fully take care of. Much of the paint was flecking off the walls, exposing bare wooden rungs, and some of the faucets didn't work anymore. Some of them poured out grey water filled with dirt from inside the pipes. The gardens outside were dead and so dry you couldn't dig them up again, having been left for dead for a 16-year period in which your parents moved out.

He pushed you up against the counter again, enveloping you in his touch that felt more desperate than anything, burying his face in your neck. A long sigh left him. After a moment, he raised his head, pressing a kiss to your temple before whispering words against your ear.

"Don't tease me too long. I may tire of waiting for you."

Once he disappeared, you finally stopped holding your breath, running your hands through your hair and tugging harshly. You attempted to swallow down the knot in your throat. How long could you hold him off, then?

Over the course of the next few days, you found various gifts around your house, including bouquets of flowers similar to the ones he'd given you before. This time, you didn't bother to throw them out. You left them alone and tried not to look at them.

It didn't take long until he was waiting for you again, this time overlooking the unharvested fields that were growing more and more wild with each passing summer. Your truck's rain-splattered windshield barely allowed for you to see him, but he stood out against the golden grain with his dark jacket, and you ripped the car into its' parking space.

Jumping out of the truck, you rushed over the bumpy, pothole-filled driveway and over to him. A cool wind blew over your face, dampened by your scarf and mittens and twirling with the scent of fresh rain and the death of summer. Bits of trash you stored behind the overflowing bins were scattering in the breeze. You didn't have the mind to grab any of it.

"What are you doing here now?" You asked, raising your arms questioningly.

He turned to you, his hands tucked into the pockets of his long coat.

"I missed you," he said. "Of course."

"What is it that you do during the day, anyway?"

"Nothing as important as seeing you," he said softly, reaching out to take your hands.

You let him.

"I want to show you something," he said, raising his brow expectantly, almost innocently. "Will you let me take you there?"

"... can I come back?" You asked, glancing to the fields.

"If I can't convince you to stay," he answered.

After only a minute on his phone, he called a car to come fetch the both of you from the wilder outskirts. He offered you a smile as he tucked his phone back in his pocket, and lead you inside your own house, sitting you down in your kitchen's dining table.

You watched, tugging at your fingers, as he operated your kitchen perfectly. The kettle was set on the stove and a mug pulled down, and within it he placed your favorite teabag. You had, of course, never told him your favorite.

By the time he was stirring honey into the tea, a black Cadillac SUV was rolling into your driveway, splashing into the puddles forming in the holes on the side of the road. Your brow furrowed as it stopped, but your attention was turned back to Safin when he handed you the mug and pulled you to your feet. Without a word, he lead you outside and into the car, crawling in beside you and shutting the door. Before you knew it, you were driving away from your home.

You glanced out the tinted windows, watching the familiar trees and fields surrounding your home whizz by faster than you'd ever seen before. The speed of the wheels over rough, gravel roads nearly bumped your still-steaming tea out of your hands, but you managed to balance it in time.

"It is nice to have something from home when visiting another place," he said quietly, tilting his head towards you.

"Yeah," you said, blinking rapidly. "... it is. Thank you."

"Of course, my love."

Strangely enough, the car stopped before it ever reached the city, and you watched with a furrowed brow as the wheels slowed and pulled into an empty field. Ever one for a mystery, Safin said nothing as he lead you out of the car and far into the field.

You sipped at your tea. One of the drivers came out with you, and the three of you waited for several long, dull minutes.

Eventually, the wind started to pick up, blowing your scarf into your face and detangling it from your neck. A loud whirring appeared from over the trees, followed by a black helicopter hovering above the open field. Your mouth fell open in surprise, but you were quick to close it, having caught several bits of hay on your tongue.

The rotor blades continued to spin rapidly as it landed, creating gusts of wind that pushed you backwards towards the car. You squinted to try and protect your eyes, but Safin pulled you forward, manually ducking your head for you as he guided you into the helicopter.

"Helicopters are safer than people think," Safin said as he slipped his gloves off, situating himself in his seat. "But I would advise you to wear a seatbelt."

You could barely nod before you were reaching for the strap, settling it tight over your body.

The floor beneath you swayed as the helicopter rose back into the air, causing a sickness to slush inside your stomach. That uneasiness remained with you throughout the ride, fed by the unbalanced movements of the helicopter, as well as Safin's eyes rarely ever leaving your frame. He never told you why he decided to watch you; why he decided to take your life. You had a feeling he wouldn't ever tell you.

He took your hand as you stepped out of the helicopter, skipping the step and instead landing on a concrete floor that stretched over a small section of an island. Water washed in waves over the rocky shore, its' cold spray managing to hit you despite the distance and your heavy coat. Safin, somehow noticing your tiny shiver, was quick to guide you away from the shores and into a tall, stone building standing like a mecca amongst the near black trees.

You continued to shiver even as you entered, the bare, cement walls offering little comfort in terms of temperature. It gave Safin a good excuse to keep you close, and you found yourself too tired to try to resist in any way.

After a few turns, he lead you into a much warmer room, where the grey floor became nothing more than a path wandering through an indoor garden. A moat made of black stone and thus black water encircled the flora, earning your attention as Safin donned a thick, long pair of gloves, pulling down a pair of shears and scissors with it. When he passed by you, he caught your eye, and dragged it with him as he entered the garden. He beckoned and you followed, without touch or word.

You kept your hands folded in front of you as you passed by the thick leaves, recognizing only a few as the mother plants from which his poison bouquets had been crafted. The path, wide enough for three people, allowed you to step past him when he stopped to tend to an overgrown bush.

"Try not to touch anything, my love," he said in a lofty tone, his gaze absorbed in the single flower blooming before him.

You nodded distantly, though he wasn't looking, and continued on your way.

The bright, cloudy sunlight above gave abundant warmth and offered energy to the plants, adding to the humidity that clung to your woolen coat. It took several minutes, but it still wasn't long till you were shedding your jacket to reveal a lace-lined button-up. That change drew Safin's attention, and you could feel his eyes burning the back of your neck through your scarf.

"Let me take your coat," he said quietly.

The sudden sound in the silent room had you jumping backwards, nearly falling into the garden. His expression didn't change. Swallowing your embarrassment, you went to hand him your coat, before he quickly grabbed it out of your hands and jerked himself away.

"Don't touch the gloves," he mumbled as he turned back to the front room.

You drew a deep breath and turned, ignoring the remaining sounds that came from Safin's movement, and instead concentrating entirely on the plants. Most of them were flowers and fern-type plants you'd never seen before; foreign, possibly invasive, and more than likely dangerous. Their volatile nature––and Safin's––left you nervous on your feet, often fidgeting and looking away whenever he tried to meet your eye.

At some point, you'd been staring at a particularly vibrant group of red, hanging flowers when you felt a heat emanating over your shoulder. You stiffened but didn't turn.

"Red sesbania," he said softly, warming the whole of your back. "Not hard at all to find, but it will be soon. They're hoping to wipe it out."

"Why?" You asked, turning around only to brush your nose against his, causing you to stumble away.

"Well for one, it's poisonous," he said.

You were quick to step back into his personal space to get away from the flowers.

He chuckled and continued, "and, it crowds out much of the natural wildlife in many areas. Their seeds are... less than pretty, though."

"Why do you have it here??"

"It's invasive," he said, his eyes boring into yours before he turned back to the flower petals. "Flourishing in an environment it was never meant for. I think it's interesting."

"And poisonous," you mumbled.

"Poison is not always a bad thing," he said with a small, sickening smile.

He returned to his trimming a moment later, his pristine, white rubber gloves already tainted with sap and fresh dirt. He kept sending you glances, though, and soon noted your extreme hesitance to touch any of the plants.

"They're not all poisonous," he informed you. "Those are poppies. Nothing all that special."

"Oh," you said, reaching out to touch the purple and red petals. "Why do you have them here?"

He took a few steps in your direction before he stood at your side, watching you with interest.

"They make a good tea."

"... poppy – opium tea??" You asked, turning to him with wide eyes.

"It gives one a.. a warm feeling, as though you are being held," he explained softly. "Happiness, a sense of calm."

"Is it addicting?"

"Only in large and frequent amounts. Would you like to try some?"

"I'm... okay," you said with a weak chuckle.

"Very well."

You continued to move slowly through the garden, until Safin's ungloved hand was grasping your wrist and pulling you towards him. For a moment you fumbled over your feet, but you soon realized he was leading you off the garden island, and set your pace to match his.

The sterile environments never ceased. He took you to a much smaller room, one containing only two bins. You wrung your wrists as you looked around the mostly bare room, seeing what little there was to see, until you turned and noticed Safin was stripping himself down. Your muscles froze.

"Um.." you said, barely speaking at all.

He turned, scanning your darkened face and stiff posture.

"It's wise to wash your clothes after being around any poisons," he said quietly.

When you said nothing, he stepped closer, causing you to back up in an attempt to get away from his bare chest. But of course, he only came closer, till he cornered you to the wall, constantly fixing your gaze to meet his. Eventually he grasped your chin and held it there, forcing your eyes to stay put.

"I want you to look at me," he murmured, leaning his head into yours. "Can you do that, darling?"

You just barely nodded, staving off the tremors that threatened to collapse your balance. As you attempted to contain yourself, his cold fingers slipped under your collar, shocking the hot, sensitive skin of your neck. He noted your reaction but continued, slowly unbuttoning your shirt till he could pull it off your shoulders and throw it into the basket.

His hands continued after that, removing your pants and shoes, before he left to the cabinets built into the room's walls. From there he brought you an indigo cloak, helping you slip your arms into the sleeves and settling it upon your shoulders. He then brushed and fitted the cloth over you, his open palms brushing over your chest and arms.

"Good?" He asked.

You nodded.

Safin stayed true to his word, negating any belief you had of him being a liar, at least in terms of his conversations with you. After serving tea on a reed mat that overlooked massive windowpanes, he brought you back to the helicopter and aided in your boarding. He also called for your now-clean clothes, handing them to you before you ever took off, and then taking a seat beside you.

When you arrived back near your home, a car drive still awaited you, and evening had already eclipsed the land. Howling winds made for a rough landing in the wheat fields, whose many veins and limbs tore into the air, blurring your vision as you jumped to solid ground. Stars were hardly consequential until you were back in the black SUV, staring wide-eyed through the tinted glass to see those tiny specks of light. The wind, previously a detriment, made for a clearing of the clouds that had swarmed the sky hours earlier, and allowed a clear night for the moon and stars to shine.

The bumpy, pot-hole filled road of your driveway alerted you immediately that your home was in sight, and you were soon rushing yourself out of the car, and hopefully away from Safin and his employees.

No luck.

He followed you out until you reached your front door. You turned to face him, willingly this time.

"Come have dinner with me tomorrow night," he asked of you, his voice soft and yearning as he took your hands in his. "You look beautiful in my home."

"I don't suppose I really have a choice," you mumbled.

His smile, though minute, fell.

"I will come for you."

He left.

You stayed on your porch till the car drove out of sight, as the howling wind blocked out the car's engine. The blue robe he gave you still rippled around your bare legs.

The next day you cleaned and preened yourself, wondering when Safin would barge back into your home, and if you would ever even notice it until he revealed himself. That thought left you nervous throughout your waking hours, constantly acting as though you were already being watched.

How long had you been combing your hair?

You knitted your brow, slowly putting your hairbrush down.

A severe loss of time occurred between your waking and this moment, standing in front of your bathroom mirror, dressed in somewhat nice clothes. Nothing too fancy, of course––you didn't own any full suits or genuinely nice dresses. You didn't remember dressing yourself, but you appeared to be ready.

Someone was knocking at the door.

It didn't end up being Safin. You only saw him later, after you arrived, and long after you realized you forgot your shoes and your wallet. His cold floors bit at your bare feet, both on the helipad and within his home. The soldiers––really just his employees, but with guns––accompanied you to a rather small kitchen and dining area that overlooked a vast, snow-covered mountain range entirely uninhabited by light, except that of the faint moon and stars. Warm lights shone in the kitchen, blurring out a few of the stars, and reflecting on the clear, glass doors.

"I grew up here," he said without ever turning from a pot bubbling on the stove.

"Sounds dull," you said quietly, watching as the soldiers left your side.

"Quite the opposite. I spent most of the time studying and overlooking the gardens." He looked up to you. "I grew an admiration for... the voracity of nature, its' capriciousness. The lengths it will go to in order to survive."

"I think the beauty of nature is in its empathy, not its cruelty," you mumbled.

"You've never seen something die."

"And I hope I never have to."

"It's beautiful, once you get used to it," he said in a low voice to match your own, approaching you and bringing with him a plethora of spicy scents stuck to his coat and hair. "Watching how the water leaves the body, how the veins deflate and cripple. There is beauty in death and pain, just as there is in life and love."

"A beautiful sadness, I suppose."

He smiled, his gaze softening as his thumb brushed over your cheek.

"Indeed," he murmured, his eyes falling to the floor before he turned and stepped back to the stove. "Come. I've made a variety of food, but I know you'll like them all."

"I will?" You asked with a chuckle.

"I know your tastes, my love," he said as though it was a good thing; as though he'd done you a favor by creeping into your life. You consented to no such voyeurism.

He lead you to the dining table outside, warmed by a fireplace whose warmth trickled into the tiny room, which was dwarfed by the flurry of snow rushing past the railing. There were no chairs; instead, he had set down a reed mat with cushions for seats.

After a few minutes, he returned with three platters of food that he set down on the low table.

"I am not... as good at cooking as some of my employees," he admitted quietly, almost hesitantly as he sat down across from you, "but I am not unaccustomed to it, either."

You took in his words, contemplating them before you spoke. In that time, he reached forward, and began to eat.

"I can't get a good gauge on you," you said, your brow furrowed. "I can't tell if you're rich or broke, if you're smart or just – arrogant, even if you're kind or a psychopath."

"I get that more often than you'd think," he said without hesitation.

Your eyes widened. Half of you expected him to completely flip out and threaten your life, and another part of you thought he'd try and convince you of his virtue. But no––'I get that a lot'.

"Do you talk to a lot of the people you stalk?" You asked, mostly as a joke, though you were prepared for an adverse reaction.

"Most of the people I... study, are not people I ever want to talk to," he said. "You are different. Of course."

"Why?"

He paused.

"You.. are beautiful, like death," he murmured.

"What does that mean?"

"You spend your hours taking care of a house that will only be demolished after you die, and you never speak to anyone. You tried to keep pets but they are all killed by the wolves. Your life is dead. You aren't enough to harvest all the fields you own, you aren't enough to do anything worthwhile or meaningful, and yet still... you linger on," he said. "It shows on your face, my darling. In your eyes. You've been empty since your parents died. You are a reflection of me, only unmarred. Unpoisoned."

You could swear hot, metal rods were driving down your face, but it was just the bite of a headache and burning, swollen tears.

"There they are again," he said with a soft chuckle that fell into a sort of hunger.

He stood, circling the table to kneel down in front of you.

"Those beautiful tears," he murmured, reaching up and comforting your cheek with the palm of his hand, wiping away whatever fell. "I can give you meaning, my love."

"No one can do that for another person."

"I can."

That night you curled around yourself in bed, ignoring the wet spot on your pillow where your tears gathered. Despite his cruelty, he wasn't entirely wrong, and you had little direction in life. You wanted to be an artist when you grew up, but your father thought it to be a childish career. That left you with few options, and before you could fully decide, both your parents ended up dying in a car accident. All of their money went to you. You didn't like thinking about it.

How ironic––how perfect it was that your hated memories, your rarely remembered past was what drew a man to you. Granted, it wasn't a man you genuinely desired––in fact you had little idea what you thought of him––but it was a person nonetheless.

Now a life that you barely lived, one you barely loved, would be taken from you in the form of freedom. Was it really a bad thing? Did it really matter?

Sleep offered you no solace, and in the morning, you awoke as though you hadn't slept the whole of the night despite getting around eight hours. Food didn't appeal to your stomach, and getting up sounded like a chore, so you stayed wrapped up in your sheets, ignoring your buzzing phone.

For the next several days you tried to be a person, but your phone still remained ignored. In fact, it died soon after that first morning, ensuring you weren't bothered in your isolated home.

Most of the walls in your house were already covered in murals depicting anything from deep sea life to biblically described angels towering above the clouds. The doors were the next to succumb to the swirling colors as you sat cross-legged on the bathroom floor, painting your door from the bottom up. Snow-capped mountains. Something cold to remember.

You pulled your knee closer to your chest, your bare foot scraping against the bathroom tile. In your thin clothes, brushes of cold breezes still managed to bother you, even inside your home.

In your dreams, people bit you, their ravenous eyes burning with an avarice for your flesh. They weren't alive or dead, but their skin rotted, and their gangrene nails dug into your arms and cheeks, poisoning your bloodstream and infecting every wound they wreaked upon you.

And it hurt.

Dreams shouldn't hurt. Neither should nightmares. But when you woke, your body ached, and there was no denying the exhaustion remaining in your once-fighting body. Now, you lay motionless in bed, casting your blurry vision up to the pale ceiling. How long had you slept?

When your eyes stopped burning from the cold, dry air, you opened them further, and you finally noticed that the ceiling above you was white, a sheer contrast from the painted stars on your bedroom ceiling.

You shot up out of bed. Or you tried to. Ropes around your wrists and ankles prevented you from most movement, but they weren't grounded to the bed's frame, allowing you to writhe amongst the sheets. You panted through the cloth gag splitting your mouth in two, preventing you from biting the rope. A sick sweat came to coat your bare skin, sending you into shivers despite your flushed haze, which had you kicking your blankets off moments earlier.

The door opposite the bed swung steadily open, revealing a man whose presence brought both comfort and terror.

You shuffled up the bed, kicking yourself up to face him, while simultaneously cowering from him with raised shoulders and wary eyes.

"I told you before," he said, his silhouette growing nearer till his body and features overwhelmed the light outside the darkened room.

The door shut behind him, and he began to crawl up the bed, his large hand encircling both your ankles. You tried your best to kick him away and wriggle out of his grasp, but he just kept crawling closer till he held himself above you. Tears began to fall from your eyes in great swells, matching the sobbing begs that left your mouth in muffled mumbles. He grabbed your chin hard enough to leave bruises, twisting your skin as he forced you to face him, flushed cheeks, tears, and all.

He visited you but it wasn’t enough. You would never be enough for his hunger, and his inexorable belief that you would succeed where others failed was what terrified you the most.

"I am not a patient man."

[sio-writes]

Witch's Gambit - Chapter 1

Hello everyone! I'd like to introduce you to my NaNoWriMo project, Witch's Gambit! It tells the story of Lucy Breban, a witch living in the magical city of Grayslate. After her good friend Elliot is murdered in cold blood, Lucy must employ the help of her reclusive, skeletal neighbor Weston when the answers the police provide aren't enough. As they get closer to the truth (as well as each other), the two begin to unravel an underground secret that could rock the very foundations of the place they call home.

I'm super excited to bring this to you guys! I actually have a buffer of about 10 chapters as opposed to...well none, lol, so hopefully that gives me enough time to make some proper edits and polish it even more for you all.

Tags for this chapter are: Heavy violence, and minor character death.

Elliot Forsythe died sometime between seven-thirty and midnight last night, decapitated and drained of his vampiric blood. He's tall and lanky, he had cropped black hair, and skin pale as marble. He was the first friend I made upon moving to Grayslate, my neighbor for close to five years. The winter cloak I'd been meaning to return to him still sits in my hallway closet. 

Reading his memories feels like a violation, but I try to tell myself that he'd want me to do this, he'd want me to confirm it. I'd been asked, begged really, by Alma to be here. My messaging stone had gone warm with all her calls, and when I'd finally answered she'd been frantic and out of sorts. The news hadn't had time to truly set in before I was being questioned by two white men in their late forties, then sat in front of my friend's body, tracing sigils on the floor around him in chalk.

I'm thrust into memories that aren't mine, taking his place as if I were there. His childhood in the countryside with two doting if slightly overprotective parents. The fling with a naga I recognize as owning the bakery down the street makes my heart flutter as his did. Adopting his golden retriever that he named Paul brings such a rush of joy I temporarily forget I'm reading the memories of a dead man. I can smell the apple crumble his mother would bake every year for his birthday, even bringing it out on a visit when he moved to the city. The breeze in my hair is refreshing as he rides his bike to the store. 

I've been on that bike, held my legs stiff on the back wheel as he pedaled, cutting a corner too quick and nearly throwing us into traffic. We went to dingy concerts together, celebrated holidays, drank tea on Sundays when all the attractive folk were exiting the yoga studio. 

And now I'm kneeling on the floor, touching his corpse, watching memories that aren't mine. 

Soul imprints start at the beginning, so I have to sift through half-remembered interactions with faces that shift like they're underwater. I see what he sees, and his emotions are my own. I'm seeing the world through his eyes, his recollection, his senses. Everything is laid bare like cards on a table. There's sections that're gone, repressed or more likely just forgotten because they were unimportant. But I don't mind pushing past years of his life. I want to be here as little as possible. To tell the detectives what they need to know and go back home to cry at the third crystal clear memory of him hugging Paul the dog.

"How long is this going to take?" I hear one of the detectives ask. His voice is the deep baritone of the taller gentleman I spoke with upon walking in, the one I'd never seen before today. 

"Give her a second," the other one says, Martinez. He's marginally more patient because he's been running homicide longer, but not by much. Every time I'm asked to come and consult in the morgue he offers me a coffee afterwards, giving me a look that says he wants to be there about as much as I do.

"Body's getting cold," the other one, not-Martinez, says under his breath. "She's gonna waste all the evidence."

"You know she can hear you, right?"

It's barely been five minutes and for the third time I have to resist rolling my eyes or break the imprint and start over.

I hit a patch in the imprint, something Elliot wouldn't want me to see. He didn't consciously block it out, but for being his last memories everything is faded like he wanted to forget.

I'm sprinting up the stairs leading to the office. That barricade at the door won't hold them long, and I need to get--

BAM!

The door flies open behind me but I'm too afraid to turn around. I need to get to the study, it's only a few steps more.

"Oh Elliot," a female voice mocks behind me. "Where ya goin, Ellie?"

Quickly, I need to act quickly. Barricading the door could work, so I start at that, slamming the door to the study shut, my eyes landing on the biggest, nearest object and dragging it over.

"He uh, he was in this room," I say, trying to breathe only through my mouth so I don't inhale Elliot's stench. The burning basil and essential oils only do so much. 

"Yes, we know that," the new detective says, and I can practically hear him rolling his eyes.

"He's breathing pretty heavy." I frown, concentrating. Everything becomes blurry, he's blinking a lot, and the whole world shakes. 

"I think he's crying," I say as the vision whips wildly back and forth--Elliot is looking for something. My heart flutters in my chest. "He's-- he's really scared." 

Elliot's emotions and thoughts slam into me like a train. If he had been more careful, kept his head down, they wouldn't have found him. He wouldn't be running from one of Donahue's pawns in his own damn home. He couldn't escape, there was no point in trying to run. Maybe if he let out Paul it could distract them enough that--no, what the fuck was wrong with him? Paul did nothing wrong, it was him. All of this was his fault. 

I nearly fall backwards as something grabs me by the collar and hauls me backwards. Elliot screams, desperately grasping for the hands on his back, before the vision rolls, blurring as he skids across the floor. 

"No, please," he breathes out, bringing his arms up as the assailant brings a fist up and knocks it across his face. I can make out the barest of features. This is what the detectives want.

"A half-orc woman. Green skin, dark brown hair."

She punches him again, the sickening crunch of his nose rattling my skull.

"Shouldn't'a left us, Ellie!" Another jab to the face. The image is still blurred, by tears and blood, but he manages to spit a tooth in her face. Good on you, Elliot.

I can only watch as Elliot tries to crawl away and is dragged back by the ankle and tossed into his desk like a dishrag. The vision goes black on impact, immediately followed by the crack of splintering wood. I wince in sympathy. That toss definitely broke some ribs. 

Elliot opens his eyes, blurry and blinking against the pain. It's like a slideshow of images, in each photo that half-orc woman moves closer. She kneels in front of Elliot, a hand reaching out to yank him by the hair and drag him across the floor. I hear her voice,  muffled like he has earmuffs on, and I hear her cackle. Elliot begs for his life, barely intelligible strings of words born of fear and desperation.

"No please, I'll double," "Make your dreams true," "Please, please, please don't hurt my dog."

Does he remember any magic from school? A basic defense spell, a ward against evil, anything? He raises his hand to cast a defensive spell, and his hand is slammed down against the ground for his effort. 

"You thought you could hide?" The boot on his hand grinds it into the ground. "You thought you could escape?"

I feel Elliot's panic rising, acid in the back of my throat. I want to scream, but the boot on my throat cuts off my air. 

"No--" He chokes out, begging over and over. 

They quickly draw a sigil with their index finger, a sigil I've never seen before. My stomach drops and I feel like I'm falling, the sheer depth of what's about to happen hitting me all at once. I'm going to die. She's going to kill me. I open my mouth to scream, but the woman sends the glyph with the flick of a finger and everything goes black. 

I come back to the world with a harsh inhale, grasping at my throat for the--no, that isn't me.

My head is spinning with memories I never experienced, sensations I've never felt. Coming out of soul imprints are always rough, but I've never had whiplash like this. It's hard to separate the vision from reality as the brain tries to consolidate the two. 

I squeeze my eyes shut against the headache forming under my temples, and blurt out the first thing that comes to mind. 

"Where's Paul?" 

The detectives look at each other, then to me. Martinez speaks up, "The dog has been taken to the pound."

The pound?! He'll never survive in--

No, wait. That's Elliot, still in my head. 

Okay, deep breath. In, then out. One more. Okay. The moment of silence stretches as I center myself again. I can feel both detectives staring at me, judging me. 

When I open my eyes, I'm blinded by the light streaming in through the far window. The early morning sun cuts the room into even thirds, and floods me in a sea of gold.  As my eyes adjust gradually to the light, I can make out the desk, nearly split in half. 

I relay Elliot's final moments to them, the more I talk the grimmer their faces become. Martinez takes notes as I speak, his heavy brow folding further and further inward as I go. 

Of the few cases I've consulted on, none have been a murder case. Memories are fickle things, easily manipulated or just flat out erased. It's why this ritual isn't taken seriously anymore, why it's not admissible in court. The brain is suggestible, temperamental. This assailant could wind up having the face of a dead relative, or transform into Paul the dog, it depends on the victim. But the face I see is the same one I saw in the back of the police car on the way here. The last moments of a soul can vary in presentation, depending on the manner of death, the memory of the passed, and a whole bunch of other things I don't have control over. 

As Martinez flips his notebook shut, the two of them share a look and then walk out of the room to talk, leaving me alone.

I stand, averting my gaze from the corpse of my friend, trying to look anywhere else. Elliot knew her, knew this woman, but he never mentioned any half-orc. Was she a vengeful ex, or maybe an old friend? The imprint didn't tell me much, but Elliot wasn't confused by her presence, he knew her from somewhere--but where?

A glint of light catches my eye, right under the desk. Like a bit of exposed metal or a screw. The curious part of my soul wants to pick it up, to have something of Elliot's that I can cherish. The coat is going in the donation pile-- knowing I never returned it will be a boon on my soul.

It's almost completely jammed inside the wood, my nails just long enough to pry it out without breaking any. Upon inspection, the piece isn't a piece at all--it's a button, about the size of a dollar coin. On the face is a sigil, but one that looks corrupted. It's similar to the symbols on Elliot's body, chaotic, with no flow to it. I've never seen it before. There's a splash of blood on one face, dark red and dried. Could it be important? It's small enough to miss on an initial sweep of the premise, and logic dictates that I should give it to the police. 

I go to the door, hoping to provide some useful information, when the voices of the two men make me stop.

"Did we really need her here? We have our murderer."

"I don't like it either, but the boss asked for her specifically. When that magic shit actually works it helps a lot, apparently."

"Well it didn't help today. She looked around and told us what we already knew."

"At least we don't have to pay her," the new one says, and Martinez scoffs a laugh. 

I scoff under my breath. They think I'm useless? Well, I'm going to find out what this button means--without their help. It slips easily to the bottom of my pocket when the two walk back in and I'm pretending to examine the cracked desk.

"Please don't touch anything," not-Martinez drones. "This is an active crime scene."

I put on my cheeriest face, the one I use when grouchy customers try to call me a hack when my luck charm didn't win them the lottery. "Of course not, detectives. Did you need anything else?"

Martinez offers me a sympathetic expression. "Do you have anything else to tell us?"

For a split moment, I fear my thievery has been discovered. My hand falls to my dress pocket where the button is stored, but neither of the detectives are looking at me accusingly. They're just bored. They're not after me, they want me gone.

"I wish I had more to tell," I confess, gesturing down to Elliot, but still resolutely not looking at him. "He knew the murderer--"

"Alleged," the new one  mutters.

"And I don't recognize any of these sigils." I sweep my arm over the circle on his body and the floor. Bright orange, arranged in a circle, the center right where Elliot's head should be.

"Well, thanks for the help," he mutters sarcastically.

"This is a pretty open and shut case," Martinez says, looking down at Elliot. "We have the perp in custody. Think you could magic up a better confession?"

The two of them share a chuckle, and I try not to seem too indignant as I force a smile. I know Martinez isn't being cruel on purpose, he's just a callous guy. I'm glad I don't work with him.

I step out of the room and I feel like I can breathe. There's another room to the right of me, filled with officers. That's Elliot's bedroom. I can walk in there as easy as breathing, I know there's a sliding glass door that leads to a balcony that overlooks the yoga studio across the street. The wheel on the door squeaks when it opens. 

Elliot's shop is next to mine, but his home is a few blocks away, about a ten minute walk in the opposite direction. I wonder if the shop is closed, or if his brother Brenan is running it today.

"Lucy!" Alma's voice rings out from the bottom of the stairs. She pushes through her subordinates, flitting over to me on her translucent pink wings. At first she seems excited to see me, but her face falls as she gets closer. "You look like hell."

I rub my arm. I just want to go. "Been a long day."

She reads something in my face, her brows pinching in concern. "Did you know him?"

I can't lie my way out of a paper bag, so I nod.

Alma grimaces. "Shit, I'm sorry. I wouldn't have asked if--"

"It's fine," I say in a rush. "Honestly if I had heard it from somewhere else I would've broken."

She rubs her hands up and down my arms. "If you're sure…"

I swallow past the lump in my throat. "Yeah, yeah."

"Were Martinez and Becker nice?"

I shrug and offer her a smile. "They were just doing their jobs."

She looks past me, and glares. She's a full head shorter than me, nearly my opposite in appearance. Short blonde hair, pale white skin, petite frame and an angular face. We've been friends since grade school, and she always has my back. "I'll talk to them later."

I cringe. "You really don't have to." I'd hate for her to yell at them over me, they were just doing their jobs.

She turns those hard brown eyes to me. "I asked you here for a reason. If they don't respect that, they need an attitude adjustment."

I pull her into my chest in a hug. "Thanks, Alma."

Her tiny hands pat my back reassuringly. "Go home and get some rest. You need a ride?"

"I'll walk." I pull back and Alma eyes me skeptically. "I need the fresh air, promise."

She squeezes my arm. "Call if you need anything, and I'll stop by on Friday."

After another hug, I start down the stairs and out the front door. I don't get very far before I'm stopped by Carlos, another relatively new officer who doesn't look up from his laptop to hand me a business card.

"If you think of anything, give us a call," he drones, and I slip the card, which presumably has his number on it, in my pocket. It's going straight in the garbage.

After another lengthy questioning session, some papers to sign stating my silence on the subject, and more condescending glances I really don't need, I'm finally allowed to step out of Elliot's home and into the street.

A crowd has gathered, just past the barricade setup by the department. Police lights and their bright yellow border spells are like magnets to the general populace. There's a group of reporters with their cameras and flash bulbs, surrounding several officers already trying to get as much information as possible out of them. 

I slink by unnoticed, and for that I'm glad. I push through the sparse crowd on the sidewalk and into the freedom of the street. It's a clear day, blue skies, the wind in my hair would be nice on the bike--

No, I don't have a bike.

The street is full of cars, the sidewalk full of pedestrians. Human, fae, fiend, and everything in between crowd around me, commuting to work, or going home, or even just out for a stroll. All of them blithely unaware that just around the corner, on the second floor of the suite, lies a dead man. And the world just keeps turning. It doesn't feel fair.

Categorizing what I need to do in my head is a decent enough distraction. Mrs. Kinoko ordered a long-lasting protective charm for her daughter that's moving at the end of the month, and I can work on that in my lunch. The Dredsy twins need their weekly cleansing water which I have waiting for them in the back room. A gentleman named Leon asked for a bundle of lavender charms for his home to ward of thieves.

I round the corner and nearly stop walking. There's a line outside my shop that reaches the next shop over. I walk past the black marble and darkened windows of Mr. Engstrom's clock repair, also taking the chance to catch a glimpse inside. Nothing, as usual. 

I walk to the front door and dissolve the seal keeping the door locked. “Good afternoon everyone, thank you for waiting!”

“You in trouble, hun?” Ms. Garrett asks with a smile. “The cops finally caught ya?”

“You know it,” I reply with a wink, and a few people chuckle.

There's a lot to do, a lot of orders to fill, and I'm jittery. This morning threw me off, toppled my plans. I have charms to make and talismans to saturate. The wards around the shop to notify me of theft are starting to dim so I need to reset those, and the sprigs of lavender growing in my windowsill are starting to sag, so I probably need to water them with extra love. There's just so much to do my head is spinning as everyone outside rushes into my shop.

"Do you have any more of this cream?"

"How about my Polly--you know her, right?--any charms to make her schooling go well?"

"Did you see all the police down the street?"

"Oh yes, I've seen them! Nasty business, that."

Conversation and the buzz of a busy afternoon flows over me like water, I'm so overstimulated that nothing has any meaning anymore. The talk of Elliot feels like a thorn in my side, something I need to square away for later. That's an issue for after the shop has closed, after everyone has gone home and I go upstairs to mourn in silence.

"Here Mrs. Briggs, give three doses to your husband and his arthritis should start to feel better."

"No--! Please don't touch that! It's decoration only!"

"Yes, I'm so sorry about that, let me offer you a refund."

I don't get a chance to think about much of anything. It's all turned into noise, a pleasant fuzz that surrounds my head like a raincloud. By the time the day is over, I'm collapsing into a hot bath and nearly falling asleep in it.

Only when I fold my dress over a chair does that button fall out of my pocket. I pick it up off the floor, examining it in the low light of the room. Taking it to the sink, I scrub the dried blood off, watching it swirl down the sink in a red-brown haze.

The button glows, a soft silver light projecting onto my hand. The corrupted glyph on both faces is apparent, and when I angle it away from my face, I see the glyph almost takes on the image of a face. It's got an angry expression, with horns jutting out from the head and cheeks.

The button catches the light again, reflecting the yellow glow of the room, and reflects onto my hand. Suddenly, the button glows red-hot, the sigil burning into my palm like a brand. I drop the button with a yelp, the smell of burnt skin invading my nose. Rushing to turn on the sink I run my hand under cold water to assuage the pain, and it helps a little, but when I pat my hand dry, in the center of my palm sits that corrupted sigil.

From my bathroom, I grab a salve, rubbing it over the burn mark and leaving the button on the counter. Sigils don't…do that. At least, no sigil I've come across has ever burnt me. Eyeing it from the bathroom like the button will grow legs and charge at me, I step into my room and shut the door. Today has been chaos, absolute chaos, and I don't have time for demonic buttons. I can worry about it tomorrow.

Hand throbbing, I fall into a fitful sleep, hoping tomorrow brings less heartbreak.

Chapter 2 >>

[silverflame2724]

Happy Prompt (if you feel like it): WWX being the genius/ex first disciple of great scet that he is realizes they can't sustain the Burial Mounds. So he comes up with a Plan to make them all dissappear. Knowing how important lineage is so them, he asks them to give up the Wen name and take up Wei. (The wens are mostly common folk who just want to live so they agree). He the proceeds to hide them among other clans. People who have met and remember all the good young master Wie always did. He hides them among the Jiang and Nie. (I always head cannon that part of WWX'S flirty reputation comes from him helping women who are in bad situations/ NHS somehow finds out/knows and begins to help him. I figure theyhad to get several Lan women out. Mama Lans ghost helps?). JC knows but ignores it, they aren't WENS anymore, so his pride can leave it be. I'm not sure if A'yuan would still end up with Lan Zhan? But then WWX, WN, and WQ all fake thier deaths and go travel as rogue cultivators. But now WWX has all these living and dead people praying to/for him as the patron Saint of lost causes? And he accidentally becomes an immortal without realizing it? To the absolute fond disgust of WQ, of course. Anyway, I figure old Jin perv still pulls his bullshit at a discussion conference and between NHS, JYL, and LWJ? They somehow clear everyone's nsme. And then newly immortal WWX rocks up in there (to the horror of the Lan Elders who now have to face thier own bullshit/ hypocrisy) and lives happily ever after.

I think I read a prompt or a fic somewhere with the concept of the Wens hiding in plain sight.

________________________

The thought came to him out of nowhere. 

It had been a peaceful day with the Wens as he farmed, invented and tinkered with various incomplete contraptions when Wei Wuxian was struck with a thought: they could not continue like this.

Wei Wuxian wasn’t an idiot. He knew that they couldn’t sustain themselves in the Burial Mounds. Their crops hardly prospered, one by one the more elderly individuals of the Wens got sick and died, the resentful energy messed with everyone’s temperament, the cultivators never stopped trying to break his wards.....the list went on and on.

He had to come up with a plan. He thought they could live here for a time, but that was just wishful thinking. 

With this in mind, he takes the next few days to come up with a concrete plan.

...............................

The first task, and perhaps the most important one, is to ask the Wens to give up the Wen name. It would be easier from then on.

As he presented this suggestion, he was surprised by how readily they agreed. He knew how important lineage was to them, so the rapidness of them giving up their name was shocking. 

“Would you......take up my name?” Wei Wuxian asked quietly. 

The Wens were silent before cheering. Wei Wuxian didn’t know how to react to this. The Wens told him that they were more than happy to accept his name since they were his family. 

Wei Wuxian held back the tears and laughed happily instead as he went on to tell him the next plan of action: hiding them in plan sight.

Various people from various clans owed him favors and remembered the good in him, as they were more than happy to take on the refugees he hid away now that they were no longer Wens.

They had to do this quietly and slowly though. It would be suspicious if a large group of people suddenly left Yiling all at once. So Wei Wuxian took each of them to different places. Some of them went back to their original homes, some went to the Nie, some to the Yao, some to the Ouyang clan. 

He even sends some to the small village of women who he helped run away from their horrible home situations.

It was a little tricky with Nie, but Nie Huaisang pulls through and Nie Mingjue suspects nothing.

He sends some to the Jiang and Jiang Cheng grudgingly accepts them, knowing that they are no longer Wen. 

And for A’ Yuan.......He sends A’ Yuan to Lan Zhan, who is familiar with A’ Yuan. Wei Wuxian sends a letter to Lan Zhan asking him to meet and instead of appearing, A’ Yuan is there in his stead. The letter to Lan Zhan details what to do with A’ Yuan and to hide his identity.

Wei Wuxian trusts that Lan Zhan would take his suggestion and tell his brother and uncle that A’ Yuan was a child that Lan Zhan was asked to take care of by a dying mother.

Wei Wuxian watches from afar as Lan Zhan takes A’ Yuan away and takes the last step in ensuring that the cultivation world forgets him: He fakes his, Wen Qing’s and Wen Ning’s deaths. There’s enough corpses in the Burial Mounds and ones with their physique to replace the Wens and him. He gossips to the town that he’s going to destroy his weapon, the Seal, and subsequently fakes an explosion of resentment, quickly disappearing with the Wen siblings to a random direction. 

He always thought how nice it would be to be like his parents and be rogue cultivators. He guesses that he’ll find out now.

..................................

Years pass and Wei Wuxian makes decent salary by taking care of monsters in the area. Wen Qing is a doctor, of course, and Wen Ning becomes her assistant.  

They move to a little village near Dongying and settle down there. The people there a little more open to demonic cultivation and dark arts and don’t bat an eye at Wei Wuxian using such means. 

Wei Wuxian invents more contraptions, selling them under a false name in towns far away from Dongying.

One day, on a chance night hunt near Yunmeng, Wei Wuxian hears whispers and gossip about Nie Huaisang, Lan Wangji and Jiang Yanli clearing his name and capturing the actual people responsible. 

He’s happy to hear this. Overjoyed. But that doesn’t mean he’ll gladly return to the cultivation world. He’s had enough of that life. 

He walks around town for a bit longer, catching bits of gossip here and there. As explores the town, wine jug in hand, he nearly chokes around a mouthful of wine as he sees a small shrine encasing a statue of his likeness. What.....the hell??

He quickly asks around and finds out that people are praying to him for protection. Wei Wuxian squirms a little at this, glad he’s wearing a weimao to cover his face. 

All of this...praying makes him uncomfortable. Not long ago, people were spitting on his name and now he’s suddenly become some sort of Patron for protection? The change is remarkable and cements Wei Wuxian’s decision to firmly stay out of the cultivation world. 

People’s opinions change like a tide and Wei Wuxian doesn’t want to stick around long enough for them to switch back. He sighs, disposing of his empty jug, and leaves the town.

.......

Surprisingly, that’s not the end of the changes. 

He got careless on a night hunt and ends up with the claw of a yaoguai piercing him all the way through his stomach. When the yaoguai pulled out its claw, though......Wei Wuxian healed quickly. Too quickly.

He recovers from the shock at this and finishes off the yao.

What just happened?

.

.

A quick trip to Wen Qing answered everything.

“Congratulations.” Wen Qing says dryly. “You’re an immortal.”

“........What.”

Wen Qing sighs, “From what you told me, you healed unnaturally quickly, right?”

Wei Wuxian nods. 

“There have only been records of immortals recovering that quickly. Even Wen Ruohan healed slower than you did.”

“But I don’t have a core???”

“You do. Sort of.” Wen Qing replies. “I’m actually surprised you haven’t you felt it.”

“.....” I mean, I did think it was odd that I didn’t freeze to death in the winter or die of hunger when money became tight over these years, but I thought those were side effects of demonic cultivation! Wei Wuxian quickly goes through the motions of feeling for his core, willing the surge of hope he felt down. 

And he......didn’t feel a core. He felt more of a large mass of energy congregated in his dantian.

Wei Wuxian is glad that he is sitting down right now because he feels very faint.  “But.....this......how?” 

“Hmm. Well, from what I’ve been hearing, you’ve become some sort of Patron Saint?” Wei Wuxian nods. “It’s rare, but cultivators can gain power from prayers. Take Wen Ruohan for example.”

“He became powerful through the same means?”

“Yes. Well, his people believed him to be all powerful, not so much as what people are praying to you. As the Sunshot alliance chipped down on his people, so too did they chip down on Wen Ruohan’s power.”

“So if people stop praying to me, I’ll stop being immortal.”

“Yes and no. Right now, there’s just a mass of energy concentrated there. It’s basically unrefined energy. All you have to do is refine that power into a core and cultivate normally. Otherwise, yes. You will lose this power as soon as people stop praying to you.”

“I see.......”

Wen Qing raises an eyebrow and brandishes her needles. “What are you doing just sitting here? Go and cultivate!”

“Aiya, Qing-jie! I’m in shock here, give me a moment to absorb this all!”

“I have patients to see! Get your ass to your room and cultivate!”

“Are you my mom or something?”

Wen Qing’s expression turns thunderous.

Wei Wuxian didn’t want to provoke her any further despite wanting to banter more and left to his room.

..................................

“You should visit your siblings.” Wen Qing says one day. “And Hanguang-Jun. I want to hear about how A’ Yuan is doing.”

“Where did this come from?”

“Wei Wuxian.” Wen Qing says patiently. “It’s been over a decade. Your name and our name has long since been cleared. People no longer hate you. And.....they miss you. Your siblings have commemorated the day you “died” and go into mourning for that day. Hanguang-Jun is a little subtler but he wears a mourning sash now.”

“They’ll be better off without me.”

“Says who?”

“The rest of the world.” Wei Wuxian says weakly.

“And why should you care for their opinion? You never seemed to mind it.”

“Ummm.....Lan Zhan hates me? Jiang Cheng might resent me? And Shij---Jiang-guniang---the Young Madam Jin has a life already.”

“First, if Hanguang-Jun hates you, why would he frequently glare at people who badmouthed you?”

“Because he’s a good person. How do you know this anyway?”

“I have friends. Try again. Hanguang-Jun is a famously reticent person. Would he do this for every person?”

“.........I don’t know.”

“The answer is no.”

Wei Wuxian pouts.

Wen Qing then begins to tell him how Jiang Cheng frequently takes demonic cultivators back with him in hopes that one of them would be Wei Wuxian and even added Wei Wuxian back to the Jiang sect register. Jiang Yanli smiles while ruthlessly talking people into apologizing every time she hears something bad said about Wei Wuxian.

She even lectures him on his feelings towards Lan Wangji, that he would entrust A’ Yuan to him.

Wen Qing closes off her speech with threats of her needles if Wei Wuxian doesn’t get his ass over there.

“There’s a Discussion Conference at Lotus Pier. Wei Wuxian, wait till they’re done and go meet them.”

Wei Wuxian, sufficiently threatened, hightails it back to what was his home.

.......

Wei Wuxian also decidedly forgets that he was supposed to wait for the Conference to end. Well, he had assumed that they would be done considering the empty state of the area in front of the conference room and stupidly bursts through the door to a room full of people.

Wei Wuxian blinks, “Uhh......”

“Wei Wuxian?!”

“Wei Ying?!”

“A’ Xian?!”

Wei Wuxian tittered from side to side, “Hello, all! I bet you thought I was dead! Well, you guessed wrong! Hahaha......”

..............................

Lan Wangji did not know what this time’s discussion conference would be like. He expected Jin Guangshan to try and subtly slander Wei Ying. He expected Jiang Yanli, Jiang Wanyin and himself to stand up for Wei Ying, as he was unable to do before Wei Ying died.

But he certainly didn’t expect Wei Ying, who he thought was dead, burst into the room.

Everyone was silent as soon as they heard Wei Ying speak, but soon burst into a cacophony of noise.

Continuing the Discussion Conference was futile after that and it was quickly closed. Lan Wangji watched Wei Ying be surrounded by many people, some crying, some happily angry, some exasperated and he couldn’t help his reaction after seeing him once again.

He rushes forward and hugs him.

“Wha--Lan Zhan?”

“You’re alive.” Lan Wangji breathes, voice full of wonder. “You’re alive.”

Wei Ying’s arms come up around him and Lan Wangji feels the strong heart beat through their robes. His elders yell at him for his shamelessness and he comes back to himself, embarrassed at his lack of control.

“Aww, Lan Zhan! I’m so glad you missed me!”

“Mn. Missed Wei Ying a lot.”

A slight blush rose to Wei Ying’s cheeks and he laughed, a little shy. Lan Wangji couldn’t help his response to hearing his laugh again after so, so long. He kissed him.

The crowd gasped around them and Lan Wangji pulled back quickly, wanting the ground to swallow him up. But then......Wei Ying kissed him back.

“Aiya, Lan Zhan. How bold of you! To steal a kiss from me in public!” He giggles, not seeming mad at all and even pressing forward, tangling his fingers in his forehead ribbon.

Lan Wangji’s breath stutters at the gesture.

“You’d better take responsibility!”

Is Wei Ying asking what I think he’s asking? “Responsibility?”

“Yes! You took a kiss from me in public! It looks like I can’t marry anymore.”

“Will marry Wei Ying.” Lan Wangji replies, voice hoarse, ignoring the cries of outrage from his elders, the angry shouts from Jiang Wanyin, and the smirks from Jiang Yanli and his brother. “Will take responsibility.”

“I hope that isn’t the only reason.”

This is his chance to come clean. Lan Wangji already told himself that he wouldn’t hold himself back if he met Wei Ying again. “Like Wei Ying. Love Wei Ying.”

Wei Ying laughs brightly. “I like Lan Zhan too. Now, you’ll finally admit we’re close?”

Lan Wangji ignores everyone, eyes only on Wei Ying as they should have always been, “Mn. Let’s get married.”

___________________________

I feel like Lan Wangji may be a bit OOC......hmm. Well, whatever. I finally got this done and with that, I think I’ve cleared all the prompts I haven’t answered, so asks will open up again!

Hope you all enjoyed this!

[bi-bard]

Picture Perfect - Winchester Brothers Imagine (Supernatural)

Title: Picture Perfect

Pairing: Winchester Brothers X Child!Reader

Requested: by @isatkj

Word Count: 1,356 words

Warning(s): mentions of death, potential violence.

Summary: (Around Season 8 or 9-ish) The perfect town... that wasn't supposed to exist. Now, Sam and Dean have to figure out what caused this city to suddenly pop up on the map.

Author's Note: I took so much inspiration from season 14, episode 15 because of the general vibe of the whole episode.

Hey! I did a rewrite of the ending of Supernatural. It took a really long time to complete, so it would mean a lot to me if you check it out. Here’s a link! (it’s on my personal account)

-----------------------------------

--Third P.O.V--

Dean pulled the impala up to an open gas pump. While his brother got the gas, Sam opened the passenger door so he could go over the facts.

"So, there have been strange occurrences around a small town about three hours outside of Seattle, Washington," Sam relayed. "Insiders rarely come out and the outsiders that go in don't usually get back out."

"No one's making a huge deal about this," Dean asked.

"Well, it's supposed to be an old ghost town," Sam explained. "But it's not. Functioning stores and living families."

"So, something has got this town up and running but the people in it are... what performing sacrifices," Dean asked.

"I don't know," Sam shrugged.

"How far out are we," Dean asked.

"A few more hours," Sam replied.

"Hold on boys," the brothers looked over to see Death standing in front of the car. "I have some information you need about this little town."

"And that is...," Sam asked after Death had trailed off.

"You shouldn't go in," the being replied. "The person running that town is incredibly dangerous. You'll be dead in moments. The residents won't let you get close enough to harm the child."

"The child," Dean noted.

"The child is raising the dead," Death continued. "This upsets the natural balance of things. The source must be removed."

"'The source' is a child," Sam argued. "You can't just kill a child."

"I can, and I will," Death just seemed to shrug.

"Do you know why this kid wants to bring people back," Dean asked. "Before you become an asshole and murder someone who hasn't even gotten to middle school?"

"Almost a year ago, the child lost both of their parents," Death explained. "That's when their powers first spiraled. It started with only their parents. It then spread, like a virus. Soon, a whole town was standing in a spot where there should be rubble."

"You're going to kill a kid that lost their family," Sam asked.

The brothers stared at Death in shock. Death seemed annoyingly unaffected. To him, this was the only way to put things back in order. To the boys, this was a clearly scared kid that went through the same pain that they did.

"You can't do this," Dean shook his head. "We won't let you."

"You don't have a choice-"

"Give us a chance," Sam snapped. "It's a kid. A scared kid. Give us a chance to talk to them. Just a chance."

"No."

"Come on!"

"I'll give you one chance," Death replied. "If you fail, I will finish the job."

As the word "job" was spoken, Death vanished from the boys' sight.

Sam and Dean jumped back into the impala and took off. What was supposed to be another three-hour drive was done in a little over two. Neither brother knew how they didn't get pulled over but they didn't care.

Dean pulled the car over to the curb.

"Woah," Dean mumbled as they got out.

It was the picture-perfect town. There was a small dinner, a library that was actually being used, cookie-cutter houses. Sam and Dean looked at each other.

Locals were looking at them as the brothers walked by.

"So, where do we find this kid," Dean asked.

"Well, look at the signs," Sam pointed at the businesses. Most of them had (Y/l/n) on their signs. "It's the most common name. If we can find that house, we can find the kid."

Everyone's house had little signs. It was very clear this town was designed by a child.

"Well, hello," a man walked up to the brothers.

"Hi," Dean said awkwardly.

"Can I ask why you boys have decided to visit our little town," the man asked.

The boys looked at each other for a moment.

"We were admiring the lovely houses," Sam lied. "We have been considering moving for a while and this town seems lovely."

"Well, there aren't any vacancies," the man replied.

"Oh, that's a shame," Sam shrugged. "Is there someone else we can talk to? A mayor or something? I don't want to insult you but maybe you missed something."

The man's smile dropped, "You can't go near them."

"Why," Dean asked.

"You'll hurt them," the man glared.

It was like that was a signal. All of the people on the street stopped, turning to stare at the brothers. The brothers looked all around them.

"We're not going to hurt them," Sam tried to explain. "We're trying to help."

"No," the man snapped. "You're trying to take us away."

When the man stepped forward, the brothers knew it was time to run. They sprinted down the street as almost a whole town chased them.

"Sam," Dean yelled, pointing at a house. "There, look at the sign!"

"(Y/l/n)'s house!" was written on the sign.

The brothers ran through the front door, locking it. No one banged on the door.

"They don't want to hurt (Y/n)," Sam said. "We should be safe here."

"Hello there," a man and woman walked out to see the brothers.

"The parents," Sam mumbled.

They looked up to the stairs when the floor creaked. There was a young kid standing up there.

"Hi, (Y/n)," Sam said softly, trying to keep from scaring the kid. "I'm Sam, this is my brother, Dean. We're here to help."

"Why," the kid asked. "I'm happy here. Everything was fixed."

"Do you know why," Sam asked. The child seemed confused at the idea that something caused this. "You brought them back, remember?"

"Don't," the dad said in anger. "You don't get to hurt (Y/n)."

"Sam," Dean mumbled.

One more shared look and the two took off. They ran up the stairs, the undead parents on their tails.

"I'm sorry," Sam mumbled, leading (Y/n) back into their room. Dean slammed the door, locking it and being ready to hold it shut.

"What are you doing," (Y/n) went to fight Sam, but obviously didn't get far.

"(Y/n)," Sam knelt down and grabbed (Y/n)'s shoulders. "You created this town. Your parents died and your powers went out of control. No one here is supposed to be alive."

"You're... You're lying," the child yelled, shaking her head. Dean leaned into the door when (Y/n)'s parents started banging on it.

"I know it's hard," Sam continued. "It's terrifying but you aren't going to be completely alone. Right now, you're putting yourself in danger. That's not good, is it?"

(Y/n) shook their head.

"I lost both my parents too," Sam said. "It's scary but you have to let these people go. They have to move on. I promise, they'll be much happier."

"I don't wanna be alone," the kid mumbled, tears falling down their face.

"You won't be," Sam promised. "Dean and I will make sure of that."

The banging stopped. Dean stood up straight again.

The cookie-cutter house faded. Instead of falling from the second floor like they should have, they were just on the ground by an old building, already crumbled and destroyed.

Sam pulled (Y/n) into a tight hug as the kid sobbed. Dean walked over to them. He and Sam shared a sad look. Sam slowly stood up, letting the kid hold his hand as they walked to the impala.

Death was waiting for them.

The brothers froze, Sam pushing (Y/n) behind him.

"Good job boys," Death complimented. "However, there's still a problem. The child doesn't have control over their powers."

"We can teach them," Dean argued. "We have enough experience with powers that we can help."

Death took a step forward.

Both the boys moved to be more in his way.

"Fine," Death stared at (Y/n), who was still hiding behind Sam. "I'll have my eye on you."

With that, Death disappeared again. (Y/n) stepped out from behind Sam.

"He's not very nice," the kid mumbled. The brothers couldn't help but chuckle. Understatement of the century.

"Come on, kid," Dean nodded toward the car. "Let's make sure we have a comfortable place for you to sleep for the night."

The boys didn't expect to leave the town with a kid but it definitely wasn't the weirdest hunt they had been on.

-----------------------------------

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[thiscastielhasflown]

day one of j&kcreatorfest (with @expectingtofly)— prompts: diner and road trip cas is a human, he goes on a road trip with dean (who secretly loves guy fieri) and they visit jody who is honestly just a third-wheel. (2.4k)

"Can you move more towards my left?"

Cas stares blankly at Dean who is holding a vintage Polaroid camera up to his eyes and frantically gesturing with his other hand indicating which side for the other man to move towards. Blinking rapidly, Cas nervously looks from side to side before planting his feet in a new spot, kicking up dust onto his newly acquired pair of tennis shoes.

"No no, a little bit more to the right now. Just one more step—"

Cas awkwardly takes baby steps while watching Dean, making sure he's on the right track. His legs still getting used to walking again after their non-stop drive from a small town outside of Billings, Montana since earlier that same morning. Dean insisted they get a head start to the first location before the families end up "taking all of the good parking spots".

This is their first solo hunt since Cas became his current human form, something he still isn't entirely confident with yet — and most likely never will be. After giving himself about a month to recuperate and time to get used to his "new" body, it was probably about time to get back into the swing of things again. Hunting, the only sense of prior reality that has continued to follow him into his new life.

It was clear to Dean the change in Cas' demeanor, noticing that he was sulking around the bunker more often (only during the times when he actually leaves his bedroom), and a certain spark he used to have no longer made its presence. Ultimately, it was Sam who suggested the trip, mentioning that a hunter friend of theirs had called to inform them about a vampire infestation near Billings and politely asked for extra support.

Cas insisted that Sam should be the one to take his place, even offering to stay back in the bunker to give it a deep clean it so desperately needed. In standard Dean Winchester fashion, he patted Cas on the back and said that they'd make a mid-summer vacation out of it. Of course, at this point, Cas had no say on the subject and woke up the next morning with a backpack pre-packed ready for him.

"Ah, there! Perfect! Now stay exactly where you are, don't even think about moving a muscle. Hold your breath if you have to."

With no hesitation, Cas sucks in an exaggerated deep breath and inflates his cheeks to keep the oxygen inside his mouth. Dean rolls his eyes behind the camera before pressing the shutter button that lets out an audible CLICK and coinciding blinding light of the flash going off.

Once the polaroid ejects from the camera, Dean pulls it out and gives it a light shake, letting his camera dangle around his neck by its convenient strap.

"Well, that's as good as we're going to get it,” Dean closes the distance between him and Cas, walking up to turn him back around so he's facing the correct side of the landscape.

The two stand next to each other looking off into the vastness of terracotta-colored canyons carved into the earth below them. Cas has to contain every bone in his body from reaching out to grab the hand of Dean's already brushing up against his.

“Here, can you hold onto this?” Dean hands over the undeveloped photo to Cas, who nods and grabs onto it delicately.

They stand in silence for a couple of minutes basking in their panoramic view, the sound of gleefully screaming children and stern parents echoing around them until Cas finally speaks up, "So where exactly are we again Dean?"

Dean gasps in exaggerated surprise, "Badlands National Park in South Dakota Cas, one of the greatest wonders in the United States and possibly even the world. I'm serious. Take a look here—"

Dean pulls out the complimentary map of the park and flips to the back page, "—a man named Frank Lloyd Wright called the badlands an, “inescapable sense of mysterious". Only a badass like him would make a comment like that. Have you been anywhere else in your life this awe-inspiring?"

Cas pauses, "Yes. Galaxy GN-z11 located about 13.4 billion light-years from here."

Dean opens his mouth to say something before shutting it promptly, giving himself more time to formulate a response, "Well. Alright Mr. Showoff, anything else you wanna share with the class?"

"You asked, so I answered," Cas answers in a monotone voice, "I guess, now that I'm a human, it's the second most beautiful thing I've seen."

"Huh. Then what was the first?"

Don't say it. Cas swallows his inner thoughts and shrugs his shoulders, "It's a secret."

Dean shoves Cas playfully to the side and laughs, "Since when have you started keeping secrets from me?"

Cas fakes a laugh in response and lets his head hang down to cover the tinge of a blush creeping across his face.

"I didn't just bring you here for the scenery, does the name sound familiar to you?"

Cas tilts his head to the side in interest, "Name, Dean? What name?"

Dean sighs and shuts his eyes for a second, “Bandlands, like the movie. I made you watch it."

"Oh yes, I do remember. Starring Martin Sheen and Sissy Spacek as star-crossed murdering lovers," Cas turns his head to look at Dean, "Are you insinuating we're like them?"

"N-no, well—not exactly? I mean, we've both killed...things before but I'm not insinuating we should go on a murdering spree. Unless we come across another pack of vamps. But this is our vacation with no work allowed, you hear me?"

Dean claps at Cas' shoulder, giving it a good squeeze before letting go, "Time to head out buddy, better to get on the road now so we can make it to the Corn Palace before it closes."

Cas stands confused as he watches Dean take off on the path towards the area they parked the Impala, "Corn Palace?"

****

Staring into the sun setting over the horizon in front of him as he drives, Dean reaches into his pocket to pull out his cell phone and holds it up to his ear. He lets his eyes raise to look out the rearview mirror while the phone rings.

"Hey Jody, are you home right now?"

Jody hesitates on the other side of the phone, "Odd question but yes I am. Everything okay?"

"We're about an hour out from your homestead and were wondering if the two of us could bunk over tonight.”

"Of course! You and Sam are always welcome to stay over anytime."

Dean looks over at Cas fast asleep in the passenger seat next to him, a souvenir foam cob of corn hat from the Corn Palace gift shop functioning as a comfortable barrier between his head and the window, “No, it’s uh—Cas and I. Sammy isn't with us.”

"Well, that's a change for once. Regardless, I'll leave the front door unlocked. Just come in and make yourself at home."

"Will do, see you soon. Bye," Dean hangs up the phone and places it back in his lap, absentmindedly tapping his fingers on the steering wheel to pass the remaining driving time.

Once Dean turns down Jody's familiar street corner he calls out into the darkness of the car, "Cas, can you wake up for me? We're almost at our stopping point of the night."

Cas stirs, making a low humming sound but continues to sleep. Dean curses under his breath and turns into Jody's driveway and parks the car, thinking of the best plan to get not only their bags — but Cas — into the house in one piece.

He decides on starting with the bags first, reaching into the backseat area to grab them off of the floorboard carefully as possible without bonking Cas' sleeping body. Holding onto one in each hand, he exits the vehicle without trying to disturb his sleeping passenger.

"Hey there Dean, good to see ya!" Jody leans in for a hug and Dean maneuvers with the bags to give her a proper hug back, "Where's Cas?"

"Dead asleep in the car. I gotta go—" Dean signals towards the door with his thumb, "wrangle him out of there."

"I'll go put these bags in the guest room, take as much time as you need."

Dean walks off back towards the car, formulating a plan in his head. When reaching the car, he slowly opens the passenger side door and Cas instinctively leans away from it, cuddling up against the center console.

"Cas. Hey Cas, we're at Jody's house," Dean leans in to unbuckle Cas from the seat, jostling him enough in hopes of waking him up, "come on now, if you get up now you can go right back to sleep in a comfy bed."

Cas sleepily grumbles and holds out his arms, to which Dean grabs a hold of and pulls him up from the seat. The corn hat in the process toppling off of his head and onto the seat behind him. Dean pulls Cas' arm around his shoulder and locks his arm around his waist for stability, marching with him up towards Jody's house.

Jody holds the front door open for them, giving Dean a sympathetic look, and whispers, "The guest room is the first door on the right."

With the covers already pulled back, Dean plops Cas into the bed and adjusts his legs, pulling the covers up along with, "Good night," he murmurs before walking out of the room and closing the door quietly behind him.

Jody stands in the area between the living room and kitchen stirring a cup of tea, yawning slightly when Dean enters the living room, "I'm gonna head off to bed, there are leftovers in the fridge so help yourself. You look beat."

Dean scratches at the back of his head in exhaustion, "Been a long couple of days. I'm ready to stretch out on this couch and watch the back of my eyelids."

"Oh, you aren't..." Jody points in the general direction of the guest bedroom.

Dean's eyes widen in embarrassment, "No! I-I mean, Cas is in there, and uh, we didn't get time to talk about sleeping arrangements. So. Yeah. The couch."

"Sorry for...insinuating anything—something. There's a basket of blankets for you to pick from in the closet and I'm going to leave you be now. Get some good sleep, Dean."

"You too Jody, see you in the morning," with a slight wave of his hand, Dean awkwardly watches his friend retreat towards her bedroom. He plops down on the couch and sighs, putting his head in his hands.

****

Cas, Dean, and Jody sit at a tiny table located by the kitchen entrance in one of Sioux Falls’ biggest up-in-coming foodie restaurants, Bread & Circus Sandwich Kitchen — thanks to the exposure from being shown on Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives, one of Dean's favorite shows. The place was packed to the gills, the trio even had to wait for 45 minutes before getting a table. They only got in this soon because Jody managed to bribe the host with her position within the city.

They skim over the menu, making comments on certain dishes before the waiter finally approaches the table, “Hey there, I’m Jeremy. What can I get y’all to eat?”

Without hesitation, Dean speaks up first, “Guy’s fried chicken sandwich and a side of fries for me.”

Jeremy nods and writes down the order on a pad of paper before point his pen in the direction of Jody, “And for you Ms. Mills?”

“Oh Jer, you should know my usual at this point. The curried cauliflower with an extra side of sauce.”

“Perfect perfect…” he nods his head while writing before flashing a smirking smile at Cas, “Last but not least, what are you havin’?”

“Could I get just the standard burger? Oh, and a side of—”, Cas pauses and leans in closer to the menu to read, “—‘Naughty Fries’ please.”

Dean’s eyes narrow at Jeremy’s clear flirting, but he internally thanks his friend for still being so naive to pick up on the implication.

“I’ll go put these orders in, if you need anything else just flag me down,” Jeremy reaches for their menus and Dean takes this opportunity to shove his at the man a little harder than he should. Payback is sweet.

While their food cooks, the group takes this time to do some catching up with each other. Jody asks about how Sam is doing (“He’s trying to grow a beard and he looks like a grizzly bear” says Dean — Cas agrees to this statement), hunter-related gossip, and about their trip so far.

When Jeremy returns with the food, he sets them in front of each coinciding person before wishing them "good eats" and walks away to tend other tables.

"I've been waiting for this moment for months now," Dean licks his lips before holding the sandwich up to his mouth and taking a decent bite of it, letting out a pleasing crunch sound. Within moments his face changes its expression, lips pursing together with food squished in between each.

“You don’t like it, don’t you?” Jody asks, studying Dean’s reaction to his first bite.

Dean nods and reaches for his drink, using it to wash down the rest of the chewed-up sandwich, “It’s...alright. Not as good as I thought though. Guy made it look a lot better.”

“Switch with me,” Cas speaks up.

“What?”

Cas grabs ahold of Dean’s plate and switches it with his own, picking it up right away and taking a bite of it. Jody looks intently between the both of them, choosing to say out of what’s going on before beginning to eat again.

Dean is left staring with his mouth wide open before looking down at the burger now in front of him, “You did that on purpose, didn’t you?”

“What do you mean?”

“You ordered a burger because you knew I wouldn’t like the sandwich, right?”

Cas shrugs and continues to eat his new food. Dean shoots a look at Jody to points at the plate in front of him, signaling him to 'eat', which he complies.

Once they're all finished, Jody insists on paying for the food and after arguing at the table, she ends up paying regardless. Wrapping up their conversation, Jody gets a phone call for "official business" leaving the both of them with hugs.

Dean excuses himself to go to the bathroom, telling Cas to go wait for him at the front entrance. Wiping his still-damp hands on his pants, he approaches Cas who is shuffling through complimentary postcards.

"You should get one of those."

Cas jumps and turns to look at Dean, "I can't choose though. Help me?"

Dean grabs one that looks almost like the same part of the badlands they looked out on yesterday, "This one, so you'll never forget."

"I'll never forget this Dean."

****

(original photos i took on my nintendo dsi during my own south dakota bandlands trip that i still somehow have -- dated august 7, 2011)

[beebubb]

William grossman: becoming a pasta

(also i mention my OC amari here but they're just friends and roommates here. No romantic things)(also this might be kinda long and I mention some stuff about my creepypasta AU so if you don't wanna be confused you can check it out!)

Like I mentioned in an old post, will and LJ went on a lot of self discovery adventures for Will.

It was always will's dream to become a popular killer like Jeff but sense he couldn't actually bring himself to kill someone, he would doubt himself a lot and would sometimes just be so upset or angry at himself

Will: maybe coming to the underworld was a mistake.. I shouldn't have come here...

LJ: come on bud! There's gotta be something here you're good at!

They had literally tried many things.

Will worked for a surgeon for literally a day before he got fired. He couldn't bring himself to dissect someone. Yes he had seen dead bodies before out on the street but he couldn't bring himself to be the one to actually commit to doing it

He also tried to be a bounty hunter/hitman but, ended up quitting immediately after he was told to kill a family

He even worked at a black market that was hiring someone to just care for the oragans they sold. It was going pretty well but, lets say it was will's first time seeing an actual beating human heart

Will: what else could I be good at?!? Everything here involves killing! And I can't even kill someone if it depended on my damn life...

LJ: you could still try for your dream of being a slender proxy!

Will: but being a proxy involves killing! Maybe I should just go back to the human world... I don't even have my mark! I didn't get a permanent smile like Jeff or red bleeding eyes like ben!

Amari: I don't have any cool marks either!

Will: but atleast you got skulls shapes on your eyes! I didn't get anything! Maybe I just wasn't meant to be here...

Amari hated seeing will so upset. She knew his dream was to work for slenderman, and obviously, she wanted him to achieve it. She got lucky and worked for him from time to time, so she was sure she could talk to slender and see if will had a chance.

How he met slenderman

Amari went to see her boss a few days later. AKA slenderman. She explained to him his situation and, he actually wanted to meet him!

Slenderman isn't judgemental like many in the underworld think he is. He can see potential in someone even at their lowest.

She obviously went to the apartment to tell will the good news

Amari: will! You aren't going to believe this but i talked to slenderman about you and....he wants to see you!

Will: what?!? Are you serious?!

Amari: yep!

Will: holy shit!! Let me take a quick shower then!

Will took a shower and once he was ready he followed amari to the slender mansion.

Once they got there, masky did the regular check for weapons on him (it's normal for them to check new people that go into slenderman's meeting room just to make sure of any weapons or suspicious items)

Will was calm but was holding in his inner fanboy.

"I can't believe I'm seeing slender's most valuable proxy!!! Holy shit!!!"

LJ wasn't all that excited sense he already knew pretty much every pasta and knew what it was like living in the mansion/manor.

LJ: "what a hassle...."

LJ wasn't really aware of all the dangers the proxies tried to prevent. He just saw it as a way to show off their wealth and to think they were better than others

Once they were clear, masky took them to the meeting room

Even if will wasn't sure if he could get a chance working with slenderman, there was one thing he was definetly certain of.

Get their autographs

No way he was gonna waste his visit to the slender mansion and NOT get their autographs.

Masky: you may go inside

Will: um....could i get your autograph please?

Masky: oh, yes

Will: yes!! *takes out a scrapbook he made* here!

Masky: *signs in* there

Will: thank you so much!!!

LJ: come on! You look like a dork!

Will: ok ok! And I'm not gonna waste my visit and not get their autographs *goes into the meeting room*

Once they got in they were immediately greeted by slenderman

"Glad you came here william, please, take a seat"

William was so excited by seeing slenderman in person but was also terrified about what he would think of him.

Will became really shy and nervous while talking

Slenderman: so i heard you were interested in working with me later on but you had a few doubts on your own abilities, could you tell me more?

Will: i um....*fidgeting with his fingers*

LJ: he wants to be a proxy but he has trouble actually killing someone. So we wanna know his chances of actually becoming one

Slenderman: ah I see, well I'll have to look at some other assets, do you have any school documents?

Will: *nods and takes out a folder with his school papers*

These kind of meetings were actually pretty common so slenderman already knew what to look for in school documents

Will's grades weren't that good tbh

He had many subjects he struggled with. On his report cards, pretty much every subject had D's and C's, and the occasional F's. Only is P. E he had a B.

Slenderman usually looked for atleast a B average

Though the only straight A's that will got, were in chemistry

Slenderman: I see you're proficient in chemistry, how come that's the only subject you get A's in?

Will: well um.... It's pretty much the only subject that I like....

Slenderman: may I ask what your under realm mark you for when you arrived here?

Will: i didn't get anything...

Slender seemed kinda surprised at his answer.

He opened up a locked drawer on his desk and took out a heavy book and went through the pages and stopped at one with a picture of a hand with lines

Slenderman: may I see your hand?

Will: uh... Sure? *shows him his hand*

Slenderman seemed really intrigued with will's hand.

LJ and Amari were extremely confused.

Amari knew pretty much the process of these type of meetings but when she was applying as an apprentice for slenderman, slender didn't ask to see her hand like he did with will

Once slender was done checking will's hand, he looked through more of his records

LJ: um.... So what do you think? He has a bit of potential right?

Slenderman seemed lost in though for a second but replied

"William, have you ever took any.... Magic classes or considered taking one?"

The three of them were surprised.

Like, magic? They knew that magic existed in the underworld but why would he think will would Want to study it?

Magic is a really complicated subject and depending on what element you were granted or want to control, it takes a lot of discipline and training and it is rarely recommended to the top students at the institution sense it was pretty much college level

LJ: why do you ask that?

Will: yeah I mean... I'm barely passing and I don't know if my grades are even good enough for me to graduate this year.

Slenderman: well i don't know how you didn't see this before but, look

Slenderman turned the book to their direction

LJ and amari were shocked

LJ: will you?!?

Will: *looking at the book and at his hand* wait....holy shi-i mean oh my god! I have powers?!

Slenderman: i looked through your records and i see you're part of the grossman family.

LJ: uh yeah he had a great grandpa but how does that explain this? He never had any sort of contact with magic

Slenderman: maybe not him exactly but, she did

Slenderman pulled out a picture from isaac's record folder (all demons and rulers from hell and the under realm have a record of their citizens) and pulled out the picture of a woman

Slenderman: she's ida grossman. Isaac grossman's great grandmother. She was killed for practising witchcraft. It would explain why will was granted magic here in the under realm.

LJ: sense he has this power, how come i never saw it before? I've been with him ever sense he was born!

Slenderman: well his power is still undeveloped sense he never had any proper training or took any classes. He has the mark on his hand but if he wants to actually use his abilities, he'll need to start practicing.

LJ now understood, and was happy for will

LJ: how can he start?

Slenderman: well,i have a proxy named sherry that knows about this, she could be will's tutor. Also I have been really interested in getting an apprentice with magical abilities but it has been difficult finding one, but if will wants to work with me then..

Slenderman took out an apprentice application

Slenderman: I could take him in as my personal sorcerer

LJ: well, what do ya say bud? Do you wan-

Will: yes!!!!!

Will didn't even think twice on his answer. Of course he wanted to work as slenderman's apprentice in magic.

He felt like his life had literally no direction but now everything was changing. He felt more confident than ever

LJ: do these classes have a price or somethin'?

Slenderman: it's usually 50 per class in a normal school but it depends if my proxy wants to charge for them or not sense she teaches them individually.

Will: oh....

Amari: ah don't worry i can pay for them!

Will: you don't gotta do that!

Amari: it's fine! You're my friend, we should help each other out

Slenderman: so I'm guessing that it's settled then?

Will: yeah!

Slenderman: alright then, I'll just need a signature of your parent or guardian on the application

LJ gave his signature

Slenderman: thank you. Well you're ready to go. All you need to do now is finish your last month at the institution and once you're done, I'll have amari bring you here again to start your training.

Will: yes! Thank you! Um one more thing, could I get your autograph sir?

Slenderman: oh yes of course!

Once slenderman signed his notebook they thanked him and were free to go

Who knew that will was more special than many thought he was.

I hope you guys liked this! I'll be making more parts!

Also i know will wasn't really developed in the Creeps comic so I kinda let myself create his character more.

Also this was inspired by a headcanon I saw where will was granted powers so I wanted to include that into his character.