#also it must be impossible for me to make an oc that doesn't have two toned hair 😭😭😭 jeeeez im sorry idk why i do that every single time HA

[hugsqueeze]

Worst part about designing a new character is being like I think I've seen this exact guy before and I can't tell if I only feel that way because he has been living in my mind or if I somehow subconsciously and exactly copied another preexisting character beat for beat without even using a reference or anything but anyway his name is Angel I think ☝️which is very ironic because he is sooo sick and twisted. Here's some songs that remind me of him by the way........, ^_^

Also I just typed up a whole long thing about his personality but I'm shy now so maybe I'll share it later instead 😭😭😭😭😭 BYE

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

“Also because I want [Nino] to be more narratively important but that is a rant for another day.” And will that day be someday soon? Wink wink nudge nudge :3c

I am happy to give Nino some love, but before we do, we need to talk about how badly canon has failed him. The reason we need to have that talk is that the love I'm going to give is far more headcanon-y than I usually go in these analysis posts. For most characters, I can give a strong canon-based argument for a core characterization. For Nino? Well, I am pulling this stuff from canon, but I wouldn't exactly label it a "strong" argument. There are even elements of my take on Nino that you could label "grasping at straws".

And I'm happy to own that! I delight in giving Nino all the love he deserves even if it doesn't perfectly match canon, but that means that my Nino is less me leaning into the best parts of canon and more me shifting through canon, grabbing a few shinny bits, and weaving them into something that you may not agree with because my vision for Nino is to elevate him to match Alya in terms of narrative importance because I want the team show season two promised me even if I have to make it myself!

And if you don't want that? Then that's fine! I'm not arguing that everyone should adopt this take. My version of Nino is about as close to an OC as I get when writing fanfic. So let's get into it and talk about why I had to do that. (Also note that I have nothing against OCs. It's just that, when it comes to my own writing, I try to reserve them for original fiction or for very minor roles that no canon character could fill. Totally a matter of personal preference and not some sort of judgement.)

The Many Ways that Canon has Done Nino Dirty

If we look at what is arguably the main group of friends - Alya, Marinette, Adrien, and Nino - then we can see a clear base concept for the first three. Alya is the plucky reporter. Marinette is the headstrong leader. Adrien is the sweet goofball. Nino is... Alya's boyfriend? Adrien's best friend? Chris' older brother?

This is the problem that I was referring to above. Alya, Adrien, and Marinette have clear roles that you could pick out by just watching Origins. Nino doesn't. He doesn't even speak in part one and part two gives him all of six lines. These lines establish him as a nice guy since they're all about him being kind to Adrien, but that's about it. Here's one of them as an example:

Miss Bustier: Agreste, Adrien? Nino: (quietly to Adrien) You say "present". Adrien: (jumps up with his hand raised) Uh, present!

This is a cute moment for sure, but when I look at it, I can't tell you who Nino is supposed to be other than a nice guy, which isn't much to go on. Nice guys can fit a lot of roles.

This isn't necessarily a flaw. Some characters have roles that are immediately obvious and some characters don't. This second class of character usually just has a more complex role that will be discovered and defined based on their actions as the story goes on. However, because Miraculous' writing is all over the place, Nino gets screwed. Instead of his actions defining his nebulous role, his actions make his role impossible to pin down! Here are a few examples:

Nino the Protector:

Season two was big on the idea that miraculous had to be suited to their holders. That's why Chloe kept getting the bee as we saw in Malediktator:

Marinette: I must choose someone who's not impressed by people in power. Who can help me trap Malediktator. Huh?! Of course! That's it. (reaches for the Miraculous of the Bee)

And why did Nino get the turtle in Anansi?

Marinette: I need a protective Miraculous. (gasps, and points at the Turtle Miraculous Master Fu is wearing) That's the one I need, Master! (Master Fu gasps) Uh, if it's okay with you. Master Fu: (smiles at Wayzz, who nods to him) Do you have someone in mind, Marinette?  Marinette: Actually, I think I found just the right person.

Okay, cool, we finally have a strong defining trait for Nino! He's a protector! Or, at least, he was here. Other episodes go directly against this role such as this nonsense from Illusion:

Nino: What's up is Ladybug and Cat Noir don't have us to help them anymore. Alya: (nervously) Um, um— uh— what do you mean, "us"? Nino: Well, us, you Rena Rouge, me Carapace! (Alya kicks his leg underneath the table) Ouch! What's the big deal? We can tell Marinette and Adrien we used to be superheroes.

This first issue with this episode is that we see Nino out his and Alya's secret identities without her permission even though the resistance did NOT require an identity reveal to be a thing. In other words, our supposed protector is taking a big risk for no reason. Then he goes and does this:

Nino: Hence my plan. We're gonna film an akumatization. Alya: And how are you, Comrade Ketchup, gonna be in the know when and where this akumatization takes place? Nino: Easy, Comrade Beurre Maître d'Hôtel. I'm gonna make it happen.

Which leads to the four friends antagonizing Gabriel even though Nino knows how complex Adrien and Gabriel's relationship is. A move that makes no sense for a supposed protector because Gabriel was far from their only option. Nino could have picked anyone, but he went with the riskiest candidate possible, exposing his best friend to a potentially massive backlash.

Nino also doesn't even try to contact Ladybug and Chat Noir prior to this insane plan, thereby putting the whole city at unnecessary risk! What kind of protector purposely causes an akuma without also coming up with mitigation strategies to minimize the resulting damage?

Everything Nino does in this episode should disqualify him from ever holding the turtle again or, at the very least, he should have to redeem himself before holding the turtle again. This is especially true since he never apologizes for anything he did in Illusion and this is just one example of the issue. It's actually kind of hard to find moments where Nino acts as a protector even though he holds the miraculous of Protection. So is he supposed to be a protector? Who knows!

Nino, The Empath:

That first example was long, so we'll pick two quicker ones to flesh this out. The first one is how Nino and Adrien's relationship is defined. In Origins and the New York Special Nino is written as a kind and sensitive guy who is acting as Adrien's guide to dating and other elements of the real world:

Nino: Yup. I love Adrien, but he's like a baby chick that's just started cracking out of his egg. He has a hard time understanding the signals people send him. Alya: What signals? Marinette isn't exactly sending them clearly. I mean, look! What is she doing with her arms? Telling him what to do in case of an emergency landing or something? Nino:(sighs) If only this trip could help Adrien finally come out of his shell.

But then you have episodes like Animan where Adrien is Nino's guide to dating:

Nino: Shhh! You know I'm no good with the ladies, especially this one all of a sudden. I mean, dude, do I go up to her and crack her a joke? Shoot her a compliment? Invite her to the zoo? Play it serious? Adrien: Nino, you're way over-thinking this. "Invite her to the zoo", you serious? Nino: Well, they have this really cool new exhibit there. Adrien: Listen, just be yourself, man.

And episodes like Illusion (discussed above) and Psycomedian (see below) where Adrien is deeply uncomfortable and Nino doesn't notice:

Nino: See, dude? I told you! Hilarious, right? Adrien: Uh... (laughs nervously) Right! Really funny, Nino. Nino: I gotta show you his other sketches. It's insane that you don't know Harry Clown! (laughs)

Which might work if these episodes were about Nino learning a lesson, but they're not. Nino learns nothing, so is he generally in tune with others or is he kind of oblivious to other peoples' feelings? And why did Nino ever think that Adrien was a good source of romantic advice if he also thinks that Adrien is "a baby chick"? Pick a lane people!

Nino's Hobbies

Our final source of confusion is trying to define what Nino even enjoys doing. Horrificator and Queen Banana have him playing around as an amature film maker, but we also see him acting as an amature DJ with the wiki even claiming that he's the head of the school's radio station. So which of these things is his passion? Movies or music?

To be clear, I think it's fine to have multiple passions, but this is a story. You want to keep your characters' non-story-relevant hobbies kind of simple, especially when the character in question is a relatively minor side character who rarely gets much screen time. It's why Alix is only really into roller skating and why Nathaniel is only really into art. You don't want them to be more complex than that.

Even the main characters get this "keep it simple" treatment with Marinette only really being into fashion and Alya only really being into her blog. The girls don't need two demanding passions that would eat up all of their free time, but that's what Nino gets! Film and music are both incredibly demanding passions and it's hard to balance a character who is into both who is also an active superhero. That's a lot for one dude to do well!

I've actually seen fics that cast Nino as wanting to be a director and fics that make him want to be a professional DJ because canon really isn't clear about this pretty basic aspect of his character, but you do need to pick a lane when writing anything that gives Nino a career and so people seem to pick a passion at random.

My Version of Nino

By now, we're hopefully in agreement that canon has made a mess of Nino's character to the point where it's near impossible to say "this is who Nino is supposed to be." However, if you want to write Nino, then you do kind of have to pick a characterization to go with, so here's what I've come up with. Feel free to embrace it or reject it, but know that you will pry my version of Nino out of my cold dead hands because I utterly adore him.

Since Nino is Carapace, I base everything about him around the concept of "protect and defend" because he needs to feel like he deserves his heroic alter ego. I do not want to make canon's mistake of giving him a miraculous that massively contradicts his writing. Especially when that writing makes him feel interchangeable with other characters. At this point, no one from canon screams "turtle miraculous" unless you want to give it to Adrien since he's Ladybug's defender.

I also designed Nino around Alya and Adrien as those will arguably be his most important relationships. He should feel like a perfect fit for boyfriend and best friend respectively. I also took Marinette into consideration because he's going to be part of her team/friend group, so he should work with her, too.

What all that means is that I basically said "okay, this is where Nino is supposed to fit in the story and this is the dumpster fire that canon gave us, how do I pull pieces from the fire and paste them together to make a character that fits who Nino should have been?"

To really get into my version of Nino, I'd almost have to give you a fic to read, but that's way too much for a Tumblr post, so let's keep this high-level and just look at some of my notes on Nino from my lore Bible:

Nino is a major audiophile. He loves listening to music and watching movies/TV shows to study how they play with sound. He wants to be an audio engineer when he's older, but he also has a general passion for all things music and film. He’ll listen to any genre and watch almost any movie or show. He loves to take charge of the music at events so that the music really fits the crowd (and so it sounds good). It isn’t unheard of for him to go see an unknown band or an odd indie film on his own. This will become a major bonding point for Nino and Adrien because of the influence of Adrien's mother. Nino has seen all of Emilie's films and loves them. It will also bond him and Alya as his knowledge of film making will allow him to help her learn the art of filming now that she's doing complex things like actions shots and editing together multiple recordings.

Nino is generally pretty laid back and likes to hear people out. His reaction to confrontation is to try to calm everyone down so that they can get to the heart of the issue. He wants everyone to get along, but he's also not going to let someone take the blame when they shouldn't. Nino protects the innocent.

Nino is incredibly protective of the people he loves. If someone he cares about is in danger, his peaceful nature goes straight out the window. He’s the kind of person who would happily take a bullet for his friends and family. This will lead to him following Alya around once the hero stuff starts because he wants to keep her safe. Never let Alya go out alone if Nino is around or even just aware that a fight is happening. Alya thinks "scoop" and Nino thinks "my Alya sense is tingling." He's NOT there to stop her from doing what she loves, he's just there to be her spotter who lets her focus on filming while he watches for danger, though that will initially be a struggle for him. Treat this as his audition/training for Carapace where he learns to balance protective instincts with getting the job done so that he's ready to perfectly take on his miraculous.

When Nino’s folks split up, his mother insisted that the kids should go to therapy to help process things. They had individual and family counseling. Nino was actually pretty cool with the divorce as he’d seen it coming, but his brother was really affected by it, so Nino spent his time working on ways to help Chris (and being told that he was a brother, not a parent, but he still wanted to help). He learned a lot from going through it and it’s why he’s so good at dealing with emotional issues. He’s also good at not taking those burdens on himself. He wants to help, but knows that it's your battle. Marinette often looks to Nino for guidance on emotional issues because she knows that she's terrible at navigating them. She has given him full permission to stop her when she's too focused on solutions over support. All of the friends will help Adrien figure out social situations, but Nino will be the main guide as he's the one with the strongest skills in that area. Plus Adrien makes Nino's protective big brother instincts go crazy.

Nino’s a bit of a loner by choice. He has "weird" hobbies that easily lend themselves to being done alone and he doesn't have any interest in "forcing" his hobbies on someone who doesn't actually enjoy them, so he spends a lot of time by himself and rarely invites others to share in his interests. He only does that when he thinks that they'll actually enjoy what he's sharing. He doesn’t mind this, but he’s also a very welcoming individual who doesn’t like to see people left out, so he’ll come out of his shell when he sees someone who needs a friend. This usually leads to him making friends who soon become closer with others, but still view him as a casual friend. He’s cool with that. He's just happy that they found their people. Adrien will be the first friend who really stays Nino’s due to an understanding of Nino’s “weird” hobbies. After all, Adrien’s the son of an actress. He’s used to weird indie films and discussions of cinematography. I'd even say that he revels in it and realizes that he has missed it desperately since his mom got too sick to do that kind of thing. Basically, Nino will fill a spot in Adrien's heart that Adrien didn't even know was empty. Adrien can listen to Nino talk about cinematography for hours and never get bored. Before Adrien, no one knew that Nino was this talkative!

If anyone wants more insights into this topic, feel free to send an ask, but I think we'll call this post done now because it's SUPER long.

[daycare-au]

📚🍎Daycare rules & more🍎📚

Every daycare needs rules!! And here are ours! First and foremost, please,

●be respectful ●act responsibly ●no inappropriate behavior.

remember you are playing the role of a minor, so anything you say in the asks translates to you speaking through the persona of a child! We will not tolerate anything disgusting. You are aloud to romantically be interested, but try and remove yourself from the role of our y/n if you do!

If you have any questions that are related to the daycare AUs development, please ask on this blog

@day-care-au-development

(Also, here is my main blog @i-ate-your-dog-srry .)

We try and keep it mostly role-play in here! That being said, you can request your oc to be drawn with one of the attendants. But please do not ask for big art pieces such as your oc and every attendant doing something or another.

Remember that it is quite literally impossible for me to answer every ask! I feel terrible for it, but every time one of the attendants responds to an ask, we get 5 more on top of it! Not that we don't love your asks they never fail to make us smile! Just please don't take it personally if you're ask doesn't get answered. All the love too you! <3

And last of all I am a rather busy person so I must apologize for any times I suddenly disappear or don't post for some time :,] thank you all!! This has been such fun, and I wish to continue it! Thank you for being so patient and kind, and thank you for reading this!.

Reference sheet one - Reference sheet two

● now here is the discord! :--)) -->!HERE<-- ●

● and here are our Character.AI bots! -->!HERE!<-- ●

🍎📚🦋📖🧃🎨🧸☎️🍎📚🦋📖🧃🎨🧸☎️🍎📚🦋📖🧃🎨🧸

[magpie-come-east]

Another one for the ask meme, Ranni 🙂

favorite thing about them

Ranni has such a depth of character she is an absolute delight.

I love that she is blunt and honest. Basically the moment you find her in her estate she admits to masterminding the Night of Black Knives. I love that she is very indulgent and permissive of the player in a way that makes it obvious she's just kind of playing with you/Rogier. I love that she's outwardly so cold and conniving. But the more you learn about her the more her naturally warm demeanor slips through. She loves her mother and protected her. She protected Rykard. Blaidd is her brother, and Iji is her childhood friend. She tries to tell the Tarnished off from becoming her Lord, because she knows the path she must take will be lonely and dark. She doesn't want to subject anyone to the ordeal she feels she must undertake. Yet when the Tarnished persists, she declares she is happy to have them for a Lord. She expressly tells the Tarnished to tell Iji and Blaidd she loves them.

Beyond that, I love her design and dialogue. She's so charming to listen to, and her sense of humor is biting and sharp. I rave about the Omen Twins to excess, but Ranni is definitely my favorite character along with them.

Lastly, her ending speaks to me as someone who isn't religious whatsoever. Now, I do not think her story and ending is an endorsement of atheism, nor do I think Ranni is an atheist character. But I find her ending to be the most realistic and true to life. The responsibility of making a better world is in our hands, whether or not we believe in a higher power.

least favorite thing about them

Literally nothing. I support women's wrongs.

favorite line

SOOOO MANYYYY

This is farewell, my dear. Tell Blaidd, and Iji... I love them.

Though he was created a vassal for an Empyrean, He was a colossal failure, on the part of the Two Fingers. Blaidd, and Iji both... Art willing to give too much to me.

Mmm yes. Truly the words of a heartless asshole that doesn't care about anyone or anybody. The AFFECTION with which she calls Blaidd a colossal failure. She knows he loves her genuinely, such that he would follow her to his own doom rather than heed his creator. It destroys me.

Oh? A dogged fellow, aren't we? Or is it merely thy habit, to talk to dolls? Fine...fine. I hadn't expected any soul to recognize me in this guise. But now the cat is out the bag, I cannot allow thee thy freedoms.

Affording thyself opportunity to grope about for the cursemark's location, no doubt? Very well... There's nothing wrong with a well-laid scheme.

No sense in arguing, I see. Thou'rt a wild one, indeed. Torrent hath quite the ruffian chosen...

Man, she's just so endearing. Scathing and clever and deadpan.

brOTP

Ranni and Rykard - my beloved scheming sibling duo.

Ranni and Blaidd - These two don't interact much. But they're both so charming individually it's impossible not to imagine the sibling bickering they do.

Ranni and Tarnished/Champion - I know I'm biased because of my own Age of Stars ER OC, but I've always generally viewed Ranni's relationship with her Elden Lord to be more platonic than romantic.

OTP

Ranni x Tarnished/Champion - Okay, just because I personally see Ranni and her Champion as platonic doesn't mean there aren't also romantic hints in there. One of my favorite moments of the game is when you find her body after she's slain her Two Fingers. You give her the ring and when she awakens she expresses that she is pleased to have you for a Lord:

So, it was thee, who would become my Lord. Perhaps I needn't have warned thee. I am pleased, however. Thou'rt a fitting choice.

nOTP

I don't have a serious Ranni nOTP.

random headcanon

Ranni targeted Godwyn (and presumably his line) in the Night of Black Knives because he was Marika's favorite child and the most prestigious of the Golden Lineage. She didn't know about Morgott and Mohg at the time. But even if she had, she would have gone for Godwyn despite the Omen Twins probably being better targets.

Her doll body is practically immobile, or it takes a great deal of concentration and skill to move it. She has to 'sleep' frequently because if can feel like her soul is just trapped in a stationary coffin of a vessel.

unpopular opinion

I believe the Age of Stars is objectively the most ideal ending to the game.

I genuinely struggle to understand why people don't like her. Like I can get people not favoring the Age of Stars, but to actually dislike Ranni? I don't understand it. I feel like if we were honest with ourselves and analyzed her 'crimes' in comparison to the other royal/Demigod characters in the game, she'd be one of the more innocent/righteous ones. But even if she wasn't, she's a fantastic and engaging character and nearly every complaint i see about her is shallow and not worth consideration.

song i associate with them

Barefoot by KD Lang

She's Got a Gun by KUURO

My Tears Are Becoming a Sea by M83

Dark All Day by Gunship

[mako-neexu]

I do feel like Obe and Dante's way of showing affection is different from each other bc of their roles as servant. Oberon's love is quiet and you have to read through the lines to understand that (which isn't all that hard to do for Guda) because of his nature as a servant. Someone who pretends, it's not that he has to act like he doesn't like them that's just his nature but he does love Guda a shit ton he is just unable to outwardly admit that loudly.

Meanwhile avengers are loud in their love. Their love burns and is the equivalent to tough love as we've seen w oc2 and date's event and interludes. He loves guda and it's for that reason he burns them in a sense, remind them that they're alive that they can still move. Unlike him. He'll burn worlds for them if he must, he'd do anything to help them achieve their goals even if it's murdering someone or ending worlds WHICH guda has never and will never want, which is why he burns the bridge that connects the two because the only way for them is forward. He'd burn himself for them too, an avenger's love is all encompassing and it will turn everything into ash.

And idk man I'm just emo ig I really wanted to see obe Dante interactions but wtvr... Huhuhuhuuu.....

[servafes 2.0 spoilers, OC ch2 spoilers]

i think its not necessarily a matter of loud and quiet. its more of how they convey it due to their nature as servants as avengers that are extra classes nearly impossible to summon , as pretenders with a lying curse.

both convey their love neither quietly nor loudly, but they convey it in ways for guda. just for guda. using their own methods that would fit them the most.

oberon's care is showing guda an "out" like you see on valentines day, his summer lines etc. but he supports them too. he gives guda advice like in Servafes 2.0 where they barged into their room to talk to them despite the dangers of morgan oblitering his spiritual core, they also talk to each other on an equal standing like you see with oberon approaching them during at the inn and at gloucester in lb6. being someone with fairy eyes along with a lying curse, he tends to be roundabout with his words to portray what he means because no matter what he says, the world will twist it so he has skirt around it like in valentines day, you could interpret what he said with "call me wiht a sigh when you run out of dependable allies and options" as perhaps something mocking and malicious when, knowing oberon's nature now past lb6, he truly is caring almost to the point of selflessness. because we see his care for castoria as well as the insects in the autumn forest, that would apply to guda to, where he has the right words to soothe their soul, casually tear that mask guda has been holding onto for so long and become just "Fujimaru Ritsuka" and not "Humanity's Last Master".

dantes, of course, as the greatest of all avengers, his natures stems that from his revenge story by dumas, dantes who is also real in the typemoon universe has dumas write his story as revenge for his enemies on making everyone forget about him. and the story became so popular around the world that his spirit origin is twisted into that of an Avenger, that sole excerpt of The Count of Monte Cristo without that happy ending written into his saint graph. still, "edmond dantes" is still there, beneath gankutsuou. he's a man who tasted happiness and love, who was thrown into the bowels of depths and despair, gone through hell itself and crawled his way back to the surface no matter how painful it got. an Avenger that is intimate with pain, with suffering the most, know love and compassion the most.

both dantes and oberon understand guda's journey and what they've been through. its just that their approach is different. being an Avenger, a class of bloody teeth and howls, of course he would wield his flames that would aid his accomplice. he's seen their determination. he's seen them bleed, get beaten up before rising back again to finish a battle once and for all. he's seen guda love. he's seen guda love mash, da vinci, dr. roman, their friends these Servants who are people made up of fragments/fragments made up of people. they chose not retribution and continued to love despite the pain of it all.

dantes saw guda as a bright, radiant star because of that. him saying you are "fire" would just feel like completely undermining everything guda is. (and a fire for an Avenger, is a different meaning altogether). so he likens you to a star. a soul so bright that could even conquer dark flames that threaten to consume you whole but you would ultimately win out in the end... because thats who you are. a person who doesnt give up, will never give up no matter how your heart is beaten and battered. dantes supports you in a way where he has your back and will fight for you in this path downwards to hell. for oberon though, he's the abyssal insect. the one that ended fairy britain and as all things will inevitably end, like i said, he offered guda to go down the abyss with them should their heart finally give up once and for all. he'll be there by their deathbed to see it through. (i wanna add more about oberon with the shining star and titania but i can add stuff next time if i make a post like this.

that said, ive been thinking of dantes and oberon interactions too. but i do imagine either dantes would test oberon first before coming with him and abby to guda's trash heap or maybe exchange some words about guda, and probably gets convinced by oberon www

[twoidiotwriters1]

The Curse of Oenone (Leo Valdez xFem!Oc)

A/N: I feel much better now! Women prevail -Danny Words: 1,905 Series' Masterlist Previous Chapter // Next Chapter Listen to: 'House Song' -by Searows

LIV: Wasting Away to Be Useful All the Time Ain't Paying Off, Methinks

The dream changes, now Nico and Ara are on the fire escape of her parent's apartment.

"I'll go back to a witch trial," the girl leans her head on both arms and groans. "Iris messages aren't working! How am I supposed to tell them to hold on until August first?!"

"I already told Clovis I'm on my way."

"Like that's gonna fix it..." Ara stands upright, staring at the urban scenery with a troubled expression. "I never noticed how pretty this place was at sunrise..."

Nico doesn't seem as enchanted. "How is your crew holding up?"

"Jason got hurt but he's coming around," Ara lies, not wanting to worry Nico. "We caught Nike and she's helping us figure out a way to, you know, safely euthanize Leo. How's yours?"

"Steady and in great condition," Nico replies, and he's probably lying too, for the exact same reason. "How are you?"

The girl stares at her fingers, squeezing the railing and drinking in these seconds at home. "I'm trying not to think much, obviously, because... how do I even process all of it?"

"That you're soulmate's fated to die?" Nico snorts with a tone of sarcasm. "But it's so easy..."

"Not a soulmate," she mutters grumpily.

"I think it's sort of impossible," Nico pauses and glares at her. "Don't take that as a challenge."

She smiles a bit. "I don't know what to do. Do I hype myself up to get over Leo, or tell him we'll be together forever? What did Helen do that I shouldn't?" Ara squints and rubs her brow. "It's so unclear if she loved Paris or not..."

Nico shrugs, fidgeting with his ring. "Even if you figure it out, it won't make things easier. The two armies under your command are about to kill each other and you have a bunch of mentally ill gods giving out crazy orders, then there's the curse. How do you choose which one to tackle first? You just deal with them as they come."

"It's not working," Ara scowls. "Had it coming, though. All of this feels right."

Nico raises a brow. "What do you mean?"

Ara thinks of her next words carefully. "I just accepted that this is the weight I'll carry forever. At least I've gotten stronger."

Nico frowns. "You've also aged, though."

"I was going to, anyway. The only thing that I've been unable to outgrow is feelings. Leo chose his path and I must be okay with it... I love him, so I either go along or get in his way and make it worse—and since I can't offer a better alternative..." Ara sighs heavily, giving in. "I suppose I'll follow Eros's advice."

Nico's expression sombers. "So Leo will die?"

"The difference is that maybe this time it might not be permanent, and he might save another soul if he succeeds," Ara faces her friend. "Nike told us about the Physician's Cure—"

"Oh, my dad hates that," Nico pipes in.

"You know what that is?"

"The cure for death? Yeah," the boy scratches his nose casually. "One of Apollo's sons created it, but my dad forbade him from doing it again... so good luck getting it."

"Thanks," Ara says sarcastically. "You always make me feel so much better about the bad stuff in my life."

"We're talking about the last resource of last resources," he raises a brow. "You might as well go to my father and ask for Leo back."

"If I only wanted him to come back, I would drag him out of the Underworld Orpheus-style minus the looking," she rolls her eyes. "But big dumb-dumb made an oath to go back to Ogygia and get Calypso—so not only does he need to die, he has to be blasted out so he can go back to her island or he'll die regardless of the antidote he gets from the gods."

Nico frowns. "Your boyfriend is the stupidest man alive."

"He's a genius that likes to overcomplicate things, but yeah, love made him stupid," Ara mumbles, looking more sad than angry. "And I'm just like him."

"Minus the genius part."

"Whatever, man."

Nico gives her a look when she doesn't react to his teasing, and he makes an attempt to cheer her up. "Listen, sometimes the fates do things that feel unjust, but in the long run, they're for the better. Leo's choice was hard to make no doubt, he would rather cut his leg than leave you, and still, he's willing to risk his life not just for you but also for Calypso and the rest of the world... that's brave."

"I don't want him to come back to me if it means it's always going to hurt him," Ara confesses worryingly. "I'd be happier looking at him from afar."

"No, you wouldn't," Nico replies in a strange voice. "You really wouldn't."

"I mean it." Her voice trembles. "I haven't been the best version of myself since I decided to become a child of Olympus... Leo is good in a way I can no longer be, and that's why he's dying. Because he's kind and selfless, and I won't give him up because I'm stubborn and selfish, so they're taking him away by force."

She looks away for a moment. Nico squeezes her shoulder tighter than he's ever touched her in the last three years. "Ara, listen... all the bad stuff I've said to you, they aren't true. You can't be perfect, that's it."

"Exactly. I should've stayed away," she presses. "Life kept telling me that romance was off-limits, that I wouldn't be able to handle it, and yet I took Leo as soon as I had the chance, and he says he doesn't mind dying but—"

"You've experienced this too many times, just in this lifetime," Nico finishes knowingly. "His reassurance feels empty, I get it."

"He could've been loved and cared for on Calypso's island, and he didn't stay because of me," she says bitterly. "I should've been the one to jump into Tartarus. But now I've got people under my care, so I can't let myself die now..."

"I don't think this is about wrong choices or bad timing," her friend retorts. "I doubt you were more deserving of the curse in your past lives than you are now—hell, I even doubt Helen was deserving of the shit show everyone made around her."

Ara rubs her forehead and groans. "I know, I know... maybe this isn't my mess to clean... but I'm right in the middle of it, so not doing anything stresses me out all the same."

"Yeah well, you've never been good at staying out of things, we know that."

"None of us is."

"That's why we get curses all the time," he shrugs. "See? Things tend to happen when it comes to demigods."

Ara shakes her head. "Sometimes I think my stupid father should've suffocated me with a pillow when he had the chance."

Nico laughs. "Same."

"I feel like I should've gone with them."

"It's FOMO," Annabeth replies, lying on Ara's bed with a cherry facemask on.

"They're searching for that poison to help Leo—"

Nike's hollering cuts through her speech. "AN A- IS A FAILING GRADE—"

"These are literally Frank's relatives," Percy reasons, his back against the wall and a peel-off mask covering his face. "You would've made them nervous. Most people think that children of Olympus attract bad luck."

"And they're right," Ara's hanging upside down with her legs propped up next to Percy, a green tea facemask on her face.

It's spa day. Once Ara realized she could buy all kinds of beauty products in New York—as long as she had the budget—she became obsessed. The first time Percy agreed to join her many years ago, he claimed to be humoring his little sister, but he loves to lie around and eat snacks while Ara puts fresh-scented stuff on his face.

Ara agreed to have a spa day today solely because her brother and Annabeth had recently come out of Tartarus, so if there was someone who deserved to use her stash of fancy facemasks, it was them. She also knows they're doing this to help her clear her mind after her dream last night, and she'd missed being pampered by her older siblings anyway.

"There is a sea serpent watching us," Percy says out of nowhere, vaguely pointing ahead. "Been there for the past ten minutes."

Ara lifts herself on her elbows. "And why aren't we doing anything about it?"

Percy shrugs. "It's trying to figure out if we're food, Festus confuses it."

"Nice," Ara lies back down. "Good headmast."

"So Leo is trying to rebuild your dragon inside the ship? How does that even work?" Annabeth asks, rummaging in a bag of chips.

A flash goes out and then Leo's voice responds. "It doesn't—yet. You guys having a fun time?"

The three teenagers look back at the door completely unbothered. "Did you get my good side?" Percy asks.

"You know, water boy, blackfacing isn't cool anymore—it never was."

"Call me water boy again and I'm freeing Nike inside your cabin," the older boy threatens. "And this is a peel-off mask, it saves me so much money on acne products I don't even care if it looks stupid."

"You want one?" Ara lifts a thin package.

"No, I came to tell y'all Piper and Frank are back," Leo's too amused by the sight that he can't move past it. "I'm sorry, what exactly is happening in here?"

"Spa day," Annabeth explains. "Never had one of those?"

Leo snorts. "Hephaestus isn't the cleanest guy around..."

"She means with Ara," Percy shows him a shit-eating grin, though it looks creepy with the peel-off still on his face. "Haven't been invited to one yet?"

Leo's smile disappears. "I didn't know it was a thing."

"I didn't think it'd be up your alley," Ara pulls her legs down and sits upright. "The only Cabin Nine campers that ever humored me were Beckendorf and Nyssa, but I had to bribe them first."

"I wanna have a spa day," Leo pouts, looking at the Polaroid he just took. "I feel discriminated."

Ara gets up and moves to her vanity, pulling off her mask. "You're invited to the next one."

"Piper and Frank are back then—that means they got the poison?" Annabeth fans her face while Percy takes off his mask.

"Yup, so we should hold a meeting," Leo approaches Ara and kisses her hair, leaving the Polaroid on her nightstand. "You don't need skincare, there's a reason why I call you Doll."

Ara chuckles. "My skincare is the reason you think I don't need it."

"Holy 'Dite, I can't do this!" Percy moans, falling back on the bed with the mask still on. "Birdy, help me..."

The girl laughs and glances at Leo before going to her brother. "We'll meet you on deck in five, alright?"

Leo looks at the trio with an uncomfortable feeling in his chest, but he manages to show a smile when he nods, although he stays consciously away from Ara so she can't feel his emotions. "Good luck putting your face back on, Nemo!"

"You're not allowed to call me that!"

Leo exits the cabin grinning, but as he walks out, his expression turns into a frown. He can't put a finger on what is bothering him, but it feels as if he were watching Ara's life slowly slip back into its old place, erasing him from the plot.

He has this dark thought that maybe those six months with him at camp were only an intermission, and now Leo is waiting for the fates to pluck him out and toss him away as they did with Michael Yew. "Well, that was a fun season! Send the next cute boy in!" 

Each day he inches closer to his certain death, and Ara's future does nothing but shine brighter.

Next Chapter –>

Taglist.

@siriuslysirius1107 @ask-giggles1303 @im-planning-something-look @bandshirts-andbooks @coolninjapaper @thewaterlily @whenisthefall @1randomcomic @you-bloody-shank @sunflowergraves @owlalex44 @taylordaughter @typicalsolangelolover @writingmia @espressopatronum454 @slytherinnqueen @orbitingpolaris @obxstiles @ellipsisspelled @thepixiechicksh @ebony-reine-vibes

[scarletinkthelibrarian]

Zevranholics OC Kiss Week - "A God's Boon"

Some notes before starting: this idea came to me after replying to a prompt on the Zevranholics server about what kind of deity our OCs would be. I imagined my Inquisitor, Silrel, to be a sort of lawful trickster god who values honesty and will turn mortals' wrongdoings against them.

Also, I added a bit of an alteration to the Human Noble Origin to make this drabble work: the Warden (to be specific, @antivan-beau's Beatrice Cousland, who I hope will appreciate this work) doesn't know that it was Rendon Howe who attacked Highever.

Having said everything I needed, hope you enjoy. ^^

<<Be careful, okay? There are a lot of reasons why no one worships him anymore.>>

<<Reasons spread by fools who whined about the consequences of trying to trick a god who values honesty above everything else.>>

Neither Alistair's antsy advice nor Morrigan's annoyed reassurance could prepare Beatrice for what she found when she approached the abandoned, dilapidated temple in the forest: a god tending to a garden that should've overgrown a long time ago.

"I would point out that you came in without knocking, but the main door fell off, I think, almost two hundred years ago, so make yourself at home."

Now, it wasn't like Beatrice Cousland had met hundreds of deities in her lifetime - this one was actually her first one -, so it's not like she knew exactly how to recognize a deity.

She just… felt it as soon as she saw him.

Just like, upon watching down from a precipice, she would have felt the risk of its height.

Though he didn't seem dangerous.

Silrel, God of Truths and Tricks, looked up at her from his crouched position in front of a batch of snowdrops, a big smile and a lock of hair as black as ink falling on his face and over his eyes…

His impossibly deep, black eyes.

Beatrice instinctively took a step back and his smile didn't falter for a second.

"You're wary of me, Beatrice Cousland. Why?"

And he apparently knew her name, too.

<<A god who values honesty above everything else.>>

Morrigan's words resonated in her head. Bless her for her advice, even though if there was something she never had a problem with, that was being honest.

So the warrior straightened her posture, her gray eyes looking straight back inside those unfathomable black orbs.

"Because I heard the tales about you. Because my friends warned me about coming to you. Because I don't know if you will answer my question."

She was pretty sure she never stopped looking at him, she was pretty sure she hadn't even blinked, yet she didn't see him moving to stand up and yet there he was, still with the same wide smile on his face.

 "Well, then ask. Or you'll never know."

… Well, that was easier than she thought.

Bless Morrigan for real.

"... Who was it that attacked Highever? Who killed my mother and father and my brother's wife and son?"

There was no smile anymore on the god's face.

He was now looking at her with the grave face of a bearer of the worst news you could ever hear in your life.

He probably would have made exactly that face to tell her teyrn Bryce and teyrna Eleanor Cousland, her parents, were dead, had he been the messenger tasked to tell her.

"This is a truth you should know, but that you could never walk away from. Do you still want it?"

It was exactly what she feared: for even a god to hesitate telling her the truth, it must have been a truth she would have hoped to never hear.

But her mother and father were dead, Oriana and Oren were dead and, even if she ever found out Fergus was still alive, she was willing to bet her brother would've wished to be dead.

So, she was the last of the Couslands.

"Yes, I still want the truth."

"... Then, allow me."

This time, she saw him moving, closing the distance between them and reaching up for her face, stopping only to wait for her approving nod before taking her face between his hands, his touch as soft as the caress of a feather.

"Look in my eyes. See the truth that you're looking for."

And suddenly she was back at that night.

Fire was licking at her heels as she followed Duncan down the hallway, the stone roof, walls and ground being engulfed as they ran away, ran toward the door at the end of it.

She could hear the cracking and heat of the flames and her eyes were still filled with the image of Oriana and Oren's corpses: who did it? Who could have done this?

"Here, hurry!!!"

Duncan opened the door for her and she rushed through… and stopped dead in her tracks.

Bryce and Eleanor were laying side by side, a pool of blood growing ever larger under them, their eyes unseeing but their heads turned up, like looking at the man whose boot just kicked away the dagger used to kill them and whose hand was holding the torch all the fire originated from.

And that man was their friend, Rendon Howe.

<<Traitor.>>

The fire was now burning in the eyes of the god, any semblance of gentleness or compassion gone from those impossibly perfect features.

Right, Silrel, God of Truths and Tricks, hated traitos more than anything else in the world.

And now that she should have been afraid, now that she was trapped under the gaze of an enraged deity, Beatrice found that there was no place for fear in her heart.

Maybe because in those two circular hells she could see her own rage staring back at her.

<<Betrayed soul orphaned and stripped by greed and envy.>>

His voice resonated right in her head while his lips, now so close to her own as he trapped her in his gaze, didn't move.

<<Tell me: do you accept my boon?>>

She had no idea what kind of boon he was talking about.

By all accounts, she shouldn't have accepted it.

Offers from furious gods should never be blindly accepted, or accepted at all.

But this was still a god.

A god that now wanted Rendon Howe dead.

His kiss tasted like the tears she was crying as she fell in his embrace, sealing their pact.

[rex101111]

I'd love to see some commentary on Swipes of Sword and Fan, I'm curious when it comes to more variety-type fics where the inspiration for different chapters comes from and the like. And here's a ⭐ for anything you'd like to talk about in general about whatever!

Thank you!! Looking back im actually pretty proud of this little collection im slowly building up, though to be honest I didn't give it too much thought when I started.

It started out as a bit of a joke, the first chapter was basically just me posting one of the drabbles I sometimes write when somebody sends me a quick description. I just rolled with the premise while staying as close to those two crazy criminals as I could. I posted it as the first chapter of a "collection" half jokingly as an affectionate jab at a trend in fanfiction that is kinda dead these days but was damn near impossible to avoid just a few years back.

People taking an entire prompts list, anywhere from thirty to a hundred, and using that to make a chronologically loose collection of stories based entirely around one ship or group. A select few went the distance and did the whole bunch, but most of them stopped at around the 15 mark. Which is plenty impressive, sure, but it always struck me as evidence that fanfic writers have an awful little habit of biting off more than they can chew.

A habit I'm sure long time readers of my work will no doubt know that I share. The amount of times I said "IM GONNA MAKE A LONG FIC OUTTA THIS ONE JUST YOU WATCH" to myself only to get distracted later on by scheduling issues or just getting attached to another idea... Ah well.

So, yeah, I posted that first chapter as a bit of a jab at myself "oh yeah sure im going to make a collection out of this, the whole nine yards!...probably gonna make it an even 30, be surprised if it hits 15", and the first few chapters came to me like lightning. Since I established the setting in the summary, I pretty much gave myself the freedom to make any story I wanted so long as it was in that very vaguely defined period of time.

Any story. Any at all. Whatever weird idea came to my head with these two that I could fit on two-three pages. I kinda went nuts. Most chapters were born from a quick idea I had like "hey so what if anji got jealous?" or "how do they deal with bounties anyway?" and others I had to really sit with like "...what were Baiken's parents like?" or "tying shoes must be a pain in the ass" or "oh hey what if Anji actually did feel guilty and afraid of his actions hurting the one person he cared about" and so on.

It's gotten to the point where I'm actually fairly certain I will hit that 30 chapter mark at some point. I'm not putting myself on any time line, I just post whenever I have a suitably dense and short story I wanna add. And boom.

and im gonna use the star as a chance to rant a little about how petty I personally can be about comments. First off, I love getting any kinda comment at all, if its a simple "OH MY GOD I LOVE THIS" or something along those lines, I will gobble it up like its delicious because it is.

But! Personally speaking if you really wanna make me happy as a writer, I really REALLY like those comments that pick a sentence or a segment and go "OH I REALLY LIKE THIS PART HERE'S A QUICK RANT WHY". Been this way since I wrote weird OC shit on DeviantArt back in the day, craving that very specific "you did good" validation.

Seriously tho, if a reader doesn't have it in them to write a Formal Review of my fanfic I'm not gonna hold it against them. I probably won't answer because I'm honestly genuinely awkward like that. But the dopamine shot of "Comment on AO3" lasts longer if the comment is also longer, you know? I've read comments that made me dance in place and pump my fists like I won a marathon. that shit rocks and readers who take the time to indulge my need for overly specific praise are a treasure.

[hopeymchope]

How much do you await from survivor Hiyoko mod? For better or worse, it seems to be the most noticeable not OC-based fangame we have right now.

My biggest concern with any kind of fan game or fan mod is always whether they'll ever reach a conclusion. I mean, how many fan games or fan videos have actually had *endings* and not been cancelled mid-stream by now? I believe the answer is "literally two - the Danganronpa Another games - and that's it"? There's been so many that've gotten dropped partway into their development/release that I've lost a lot of faith in this creative path. (And yes, I'm aware of the irony of ME saying this, the person with all the incomplete fanfics that've stood out there for a long while... ugh. The inner guilt it brings me is real.) But hey, if the person developing "Unforgiven" is still trucking along gradually, then props to them. I'll be interested in seeing how I feel when it's all said and done.

But for now, let's catch up on ALL the asks in my backlog related to the Survivor Hiyoko game mod!

Fuyuhiko may have been an awful person for the majority of Chapters 1-2, but by targeting Hiyoko he was trying to save the life of someone he'd always loved. So I kind of can get that, right? And choosing to target the person who's been a complete asshole towards damn near everybody, you could even argue he's performing an overkill version of a public service. :P The problem is that... well, surely he knew what him convincing them to vote for Saionji would mean for *literally everyone else*, right? It's not like he was going to JUST sacrifice the girl who was clearly an asshole to everybody around her. It wasn't even like he was just going to sacrifice her and HIMSELF — arguably two of the biggest douchenozzles on the island up to that point. No, he was gonna sacrifice 11 totally uninvolved people PLUS himself to give Peko a future. Even if we grant him Hiyoko (because she's awful and consistently sucks) and Komaeda (because he's Here to Cause Problems on Purpose) as freebies, that's still NINE INNOCENT PEOPLE getting killed because of his plan. Did he really think that was an even trade? Did he just not BELIEVE they'd really all die? Or was he just not thinking this through?

I mean, you have to address all of Hiyoko's worst behavior, don't you? If you're intending for me to buy into Hiyoko getting some kind of redemption, you need to confront all the awful shit she's said and done head-on and TRY to make up for it. Even if that's... kind of impossible.

Well... we probably all have "problematic faves." I'm not sure why someone would EVER choose Saionji as their fave, but... I guess there must be some reason why someone would see promise in her. Perhaps the modder really buys into her specious "tragic backstory" FTEs, and they think those things deserve to be aired out among the rest of the group so that everyone can come to a better understanding of her mental issues... or something like that. I have no idea.

It seems I was too late to see this. They deleted it by the time I tried to follow this address. Which... sounds like it's probably for the best.

I finally hunted for and found their YouTube account thanks to you bringing this up! And as for Sonia... well, I guess she doesn't go through much growth during the game, if any. So she's probably easier to remove than someone like Fuyuhiko is... with the exception of the whole Gundham/Chapter 4 part. But she also deserves the death way less than either of them. :P

[zbeez-outlet]

Part Three || Big Brother Diego

Five Hargreeves x OC | TUA Canon Universe | Slow Burn Relationship

Description || The story of how little Noa Lavigne went from dodging Diego's knives in target practice to sharing secret handshakes and spinning in the rain.

Content Warnings || allusions to Reginald Hargreeve's abuse, minor injuries, mentions of blood (If I missed anything, please let me know!)

<<< Part Two

Book Masterlist

Number 2 has a lot of feelings about being number 2. At the top of the list is the fact that being number 2 means he is not number 1, he will never be number 1, but he can be better than number 1 — well, maybe. Mom says he could be as long as he tries his hardest. So he does.

At the bottom of this so-called "Feelings About Being Number 2" list is the sentiment that at least he's not Number 7, who's small and powerless and left on the sidelines with a frown and a wish for more. Just above that is the even greater truth that being Number 8 would be worse. In many ways, Number 2 thinks Number 8 is more like a pet than a child or a sibling or a person.

Their official introduction happens thusly.

Dad hands him a knife and orders him to throw it at Number 8. The goal is to cut her. She stands ten meters away, small with her shoulders curved forward and her chin bent low, but for some reason he feels watched by her. Like behind the curtain of strawberry blonde curls is an eye that sees his every heartbeat and every impulse.

Part of him wants to cut her just to see if he can.

When Dad realized Number 2 needed an object to focus on to control his power and exceed his potential, early in the study of his abilities, he chose knives. Sharp, deadly, precise. He could use his manipulation of trajectory to maneuver the direction of the knives with unprecedented accuracy. Number 2 practiced on stationary targets until hitting a bullseye with his eyes closed became as easy as breathing. He graduated to the next step: moving targets.

The day Number 8 appeared on their doorstep, Number 2 didn't think much beyond the initial awe at her speed. There wasn't much more to think when you're only six and small and subject to the disciplines of everything bigger than you. They were all told to call her Number 8, so he does because he's Number 2 and clearly she's one of them now — except Dad makes her sleep in the attic and there's never a plate for her at the dinner table. He wonders about that now, thin slice of knife between his fingers and the orders of his father tensing between his shoulders. He wonders how she can be and not be one of them at the same time.

Disobeying is not an option.

It's actually fun, he realizes a few sessions of target practice later because catching Number 8 feels impossible and excitement simmers under his skin every time he gets close. The game changes from Number 2 chasing her around the room with blades and frustration to anticipating her next moves. To making plans and strategies and maneuvers he would never otherwise come up with. It's fun, it's new, it feels way more valuable than the thousands of pushups Number 1 must be doing. That thought keeps him proud.

The first time Number 2 cuts Number 8 is also the last.

It happens after he's been named Diego by Mom and Number 8 has become Noa to him in secret. It happens after hundreds and hundreds of hours of target practice. It happens because Dad wants to challenge her, not him.

She's being electrocuted the first time he cuts her. A tiny slice on the right side of her throat that bleeds and scars and haunts him every time he looks at it. Noa doesn't cry from the wound, but she does look at him differently afterwards, even if she doesn't mean to. Something like sadness, something like betrayal, something that tastes bitter every time he sees it flash in her eyes.

Diego never cuts her again because he never wants to. Not like he did at first, just to see if he could. Not even for Dad's approval.

Having a stutter makes Number 2 insecure in a way he's not prepared for — though, really, how does one prepare for insecurity at the age of seven? It forces him into a quiet that unsettles the person he wants to be, which is loud and proud and as confident in his words as every other part of himself. A leader.

He struggles with sharp consonants the most. The ones that are thin and shaped with steel, trapped aggressively behind his teeth and lips no matter how hard he pushes them with his tongue. It's the t's and the k's and the g's. It's the way r's struggle to ripple passed his throat and the vowels that draw on longer than he means for them to. Number 2 cannot control the flow of his words the same way he can control the trajectory of his knives.

Mom is patient. Mom is kind and sounds out the words for him, slow at first. They play games with letters and shapes, and she teaches him how to picture the words in his mind before saying them.

When he finds out Mom is teaching Number 8 English, his first thought is about how he can help. Because he knows what it means to silence yourself for fear of using the wrong words or ruining their sound or jumbling them up all over the place.

Number 2 likes the way French sounds the few times he's heard Number 8 speak, similar to the Spanish Dad has him practicing or the Italian Number 5 picks up with ease only with more floral notes and a sound that reminds him of Mom's perfume. It's round with vowels in a way English often isn't. It's lovely and soft and dances through the air with a warmth that isn't welcome within the walls of the Umbrella Academy. He wonders if she trips over the same consonants as him.

"Mom," he starts with a soft call, reaching for the billowy length of her skirt. He's nervous because sometimes acknowledging Number 8 feels blasphemous, like there's some unwritten rule of the house that her presence is as consequential as the paintings on the walls and to give her any more substance than that is punishable in their father's eye. "Can I help you teach Number 8 English? I can show her how to pic-pic-picture the words like you t-taught me."

Her palm rests on his head, gentle fingers running through the short cut of his hair and making him preen like a cat. She smiles with all of the softness he doesn't get in their world under the sunshine of a flashing monocle. "Of course, Number 2. I would love your help." She kneels down by his side, a thick leather book in her hand that she holds out to Number 2 like a special treasure. The leather is dark and latched with a metal clasp, a matching key attached to the pages by a string. "I got this for her so she can practice. Kind of like how you do in your head, but on paper. Would you like to give it to her for me?"

Number 2 nods so enthusiastically his neck hurts, and he follows behind Mom with an extra little skip to his step, the journal clutched to his chest. She leads him in a delicate stride up and up and up towards the attic, a bubble of anxiety threatening to pop in his throat. He's never been to the attic before.

Mom knocks with a rhythmic tap tap tap and calls for Number 8 with a tone so unlike the sweeping curve of breath she uses for his own number. None of the motherly affection he knows from her. It's not harsh or angry or berating, but stiff like metal. It leaves Number 2 confused and curious, wondering where all the warmth of the beating heart she doesn't have has gone. Number 8 peaks through the crack of the attic door, eyes flickering between him and Mom like she can't figure out how she's supposed to act, but she offers him a hesitant smile despite her wavering. He can't help but smile back, feeling crooked in his skin and fighting the impulse to pat her head like a puppy.

He holds out the leather journal like a peace offering, a treaty between two sides of the same coin. "To prac-practiccce..." he trails, frustrated with his words and his letters and his brain. "To practice! Your English."

The way Number 8 looks at the journal with a shine to her eyes makes him sad. She reaches forward like a frightened animal as if she's expecting him to retch the gift from her as soon as she touches it. Number 8 holds the journal like glass, waiting for it to shatter between her palms, and pride dances in Number 2's chest at being the one to put such a reverent look on her face.

"Numéro 2?" Her voice is small, and he wonders if it's impossible to put her in his pocket to keep her safe and happy and cozy at all times. "Voulez-vous me montrer, s'il vous plaît? Um..." she pauses, brow crinkling cutely as she tries to find the right words. Her feet shuffle and her shoulders curve further as insecurity presses onto her spine. Number 2 nods at her, encouraging her to pick and choose and ask him again. "Sh-show me? Please?"

When Number 2 smiles, it's with his entire face. All teeth and stretched cheeks and elation freckling his skin.

He grabs her hand, noticing but not commenting on the way she jumps at his touch, and drags her all the way to his room — the attic still scares him even if there's just a little girl behind the door. They settle on a blanket he tosses onto the floor, heads bent close together as he starts by talking her through the alphabet, which is largely the same and yet somehow totally different. He points to objects around his room and asks her to name them. If she gets it wrong, she writes it down with the corresponding French word so she knows to practice. If she gets it right, he gives into the urge of patting her head and beams at her answering smile.

When Number 8 smiles, really truly smiles with all the happiness she can muster, her cheeks dimple and her eyes scrunch and her tongue pokes from between her teeth.

He only sees that smile a handful of times throughout their childhood. The first time he sees it is also the first time he pats her head. Awe dances in his chest at the sight and suddenly all he wants is to protect that smile.

They are the exact same age, every child in the manor is, but he thinks this must be what it feels like to be a big brother. He rather likes it.

Diego comes up with the idea for a secret handshake on a whim of normalcy when they're barely eleven. His first attempt is with Klaus, unanimously dubbed the creative one among the children. It's an attempt that fails spectacularly with fumbled fingers and Klaus getting stuck in a roundabout interpretive dance, though Diego likely should have expected it to go that way what with his brother's recent discovery of weed.

He contemplates going to Ben next, as the only other sibling likely to indulge his newfound micro-obsession with handshakes and secrecy, but quickly decides to go to Noa instead when she simply walks by him in the hallway amidst his boredom. She's closer and most often compliant, and Diego prefers that over the tediousness of a few extra minutes of convincing Ben to do it with him. Besides, he rather likes her gentle company more than that of his uniquely deranged siblings.

Not to mention the silently massive 'fuck you!' it would be to Dad's rules piled between Noa and the rest of them. Another way to dig a little path of comradery to Noa, same as their English lessons and the stolen moments of head pats and tongue-in-teeth smiles.

She's following behind Five like she so often is these days, close enough that their linked pinkies go almost completely unnoticed but far enough so she can't be perceived as an equal beside him. It's cute in a weird complicated way he doesn't quite understand, not with the way Five's brutal demeaner clashes with Noa's jittery calmness, but they smile together and whisper and sometimes blush pink, so Diego decides not to dwell on it so much.

But it's been days since Diego's had some stolen time with Noa, so he decides pilfering her company for the early afternoon before she's relegated to the corner of the dining hall during dinner is his right.

"My turn with Noa, bye Five!" He gets out in a rush, the words smooth from practice and patience and Mom's smile. Snatching Noa's hand, the one decidedly not occupied by Five's pinky, Diego pulls her away in the wake of his brother's snarled curses with a devilish cackle.

Noa keeps up easily of course, her feet far more graceful than any other part of her, but she doesn't laugh like him because she doesn't know how — her smile is one in ten thousand jokes, her laugh is one in ten million tickles. Sometimes he wonders if he'll ever hear it. Sometimes he wonders if any of the others have. He knows she's not mad though, if the soft curve of her brow and gentle reciprocating clasp of his hand are anything to go by.

Diego drags her out to the courtyard. Dad rarely leaves his office when they're not training let alone ventures outside, so it's usually the safest spot to hang out with Noa without getting caught. He settles them under the cover of the largest tree in the yard, an aging oak that they're all convinced was there before the mansion was. Sitting cross-legged on the grass, he gestures for Noa to do the same with the kind of excited impatience only a child could have. She does, though she folds her legs delicately beneath her instead of crossing them because of the skirt of her uniform, and stares at him expectedly.

Her eyes swivel like she's checking for the weighty shine of a monocle before turning back to him with one of her more hesitant grins. "Hi Diego," she whispers like if she dares to speak any louder the world may crack beneath their feet. He has always loved the way their names slip from her accent in soft doting French sounds.

"Noa, I had a great idea!" He keeps his voice low despite the bubbles of anticipation dancing along his tongue, more for her comfort than any actual fear of reprimand he may have. "We should make a secret handshake!"

She tilts her head like the puppy he so often thinks of her as and furrows her brows. "A secret...what?"

"You know, a handshake. Like..." he trails, reaching for her hand. Even at eleven, his hands seem far larger than hers. He firmly grasps her fingers in his hold and shakes with a howdy-do nod of his head that leaves her cheeks pink and her green eyes shining. "Only, we'll make a special one that just the two of us know."

That very special tongue-in-teeth smile stretches her cheeks and when she nods, her curls bounce. Diego's chest puffs at the sight.

He doesn't count the minutes, but they stay out in the courtyard for a long time playing with their hands and coming up with different ways to link their fingers. They use their right hands even though Noa is left-handed. Eventually they come up with something simple enough to remember for a lifetime but complex enough that it takes a few tries to get it right. It goes like this.

Three taps to each other's palm and sliding back to clasp fingers in a claw-like gesture. Pressing thumbs together before unclasping their fingers and twisting clockwise to link their pinking, and then reversing that motion to smoothly clasp hands in a classic handshake form. They shake three more times before drawing back and forming small fists that they take turns tapping the tops and bottoms before ending in a classic bump of knuckles. With, of course, exaggerated explosive noises that Diego insisted on as the finisher.

Diego dissolves into giggles after every explosion, teetering in the grass and holding tight to his belly like he can trap the warmth of his mirth with his hands. He pats her head as a reward just like when she gets her English words right.

A water droplet splashes against his nose, startling him from their game. Diego looks up to the canopy of leaves beneath the shady oak tree and blinks, more droplets spattering across his cheeks and he grins.

It's raining.

Quickly pulling Noa to her feet, he dances them from under the cover of the tree and twirls her in the falling rain. He does their handshake again and goes spinning at the final explosion to dance in the growing puddles and dirty his shoes without a second thought. Noa stands more calmly on the edge of the rain, watching him with warm eyes but far less enthusiasm for the dancing, and that just won't do. He shimmies towards her, reaching and reaching and reaching as if he can pull the excitement and playfulness he knows hides beneath her skin from the tips of her fingers.

Her curls speckle with silver water and sparkle just like the day she found her way to their doorstep. He rocks Noa into his arms and shakes her to the rhythm of a song that's not playing and then sends her twirling with an encouraging thrust of his hands. And that's when he hears it, under the twinkling sound of rain.

Noa giggles. She giggles and laughs and spins without any care for the mud dirtying her stockings. It's breathy and soft, just like everything else about her, and sings with the same gentle harmony as her French and her lullabies. It wraps warm around his chest and pulls another laugh from the mirth hidden behind his ribs. It's a sound he wishes he could bottle and save for the darker days when none of them can find the strength to do more than blink.

A throat clears behind him. Noa's laughter stops. The world stills so suddenly even the rain seems to pause against the fight of gravity.

"Number 2," Dad's voice crawls along his spine and claws at his ears. "This behavior is unacceptable. Go change for supper, we'll discuss your punishment after."

Diego trembles, trying to meet Noa's eye, but she's already shut down. Now standing rigid with her hands clasped behind her back and her chin pressed painfully to her chest. He can see her shaking. If Diego were braver, he'd walk towards her and wrap her in his arms like the big brother he wants to be, whisper reassurances without stuttering and protect her, but instead his father's orders drag his feet back into the house, leaving her to his wrath. Dad doesn't follow him inside.

Mom is waiting with a towel and a clean uniform in her hands, smile bright and warm and everything he can't feel right now.

Dinner starts later than usual. Noa never takes her spot beside Mom and Pogo. Guilt floods his chest and his lungs and threatens to spill over his eyes. Her laugh echoes in his head until it sounds like a scream. Five asks where Noa is as the only one brave enough to do so. Dad reminds him that speaking is prohibited during dinner, leaving Five to simmer with a red rage and stab at his plate without eating any of it. He glares at Diego, at Dad, at his plate. He stares at the empty spot where Noa usually stands for a long long time.

It's three days before they see Noa again, quiet and small as she's always been. He can't see any marks of punishment, relief mingling with the guilt in his chest like oil.

He doesn't ask what happened to her the last three days. She doesn't tell him.

When Dad's not looking, Noa holds out her right hand. Diego's eyes go wide and with trembling motions, he taps against her palm three times. He almost cries when she whispers the quietest explosive noise to finish off the handshake.

When Noa and Five are gone, Diego grieves in the only way he knows how. Silently and with a weight hardening behind his ribs like a stone, a pressure that will never go away. His screams and cries are trapped under his skin, ready to burst as days without explosive handshakes or English lessons or impossible target practice turn into weeks, into months, into years.

Her journal is gone.

The attic is locked.

Dad hangs a painting of Five over the fireplace mantle. He wants to ask if Noa gets a painting, but knowing the answer keeps the question resting on his tongue, swallowed into the recesses of his throat.

The only proof that Noa existed at all is their memories. It's not enough, it'll never be enough. He turned out to be a pretty shitty big brother.

[whump-captain]

No. 13 - Can't make an omelette without breaking a few legs

Dislocation | Fracture | "Are you here to break me out?"

and

No. 29 - What doesn't kill me...

Sleep deprivation | Defiance | "Better me than you"

2300 words | OC: Kintsugi

Taglist (feel free to ask to be added/removed!): @thatsgonnaleaveamark

omg this took me so long. writing kintsugi is weird bc it's supposed to have like a chronology and consistency but i started it ages ago so no way ill remember everything i had in mind back then. but ive been looking forward to this scene for ages bc it gets everything going and also bc torture (◡‿◡)

---

CN: torture, interrogation, broken arm, beating, restraints, captivity, threats

---

They had led him through so many turns and corridors that Ethan lost all hope of remembering the route. The bag over his head constricted the air around him into a hot, tangible darkness that he could barely breathe in. Though his legs trembled, he kept up the pace that the boots marching next to him had set - if he slowed or stumbled, he would once again feel the sharp jab to his back that seemed like it burned straight through his clothes.

His mind refused to acknowledge it as a gun. There was a sucking void where that thought should have been, hollow like the twisting feeling in his stomach. There wasn't really a loaded gun trained on him. That couldn't be true. If he didn't think about it, if he let that emptiness swallow the fear, the gun would stop being real.

A door opened startlingly close and Ethan flinched. Dull pain throbbed through his left arm like a shockwave. No matter how closely he cradled it, he couldn't stabilize the fracture properly and every sudden motion sent new shocks down the whole limb. He gasped when someone shoved him forward and he barely kept his balance.

The door shut again with a heavy slam. Then the bag was pulled off of Ethan's head and light stabbed into his eyes. He was in a basement, large enough to harbor shadows despite the bright halogens in its low ceiling. The rough concrete walls were lined with wooden shelves, each littered with tools, boxes, and mechanical parts. A heavy chair stood in the middle and in front of it waited a man in a grey, canvas uniform - the same man who had found Ethan under the cliff.

He was tall, strongly built, with square shoulders that he held back to maintain a rod-straight posture. His hair was cropped so short it was impossible to tell its colour but his eyebrows were fair enough to blend in with the pale white of his skin. Thin wrinkles gathered in the corners of his cold eyes and his narrow mouth curved ever so slightly in a blankly professional smile.

"I don't believe it," Captain Linde said mildly. "I never thought I'd see someone brazen enough to do this."

Ethan stepped back instinctively and his back collided with the two guards behind him. A heavy hand fell onto his shoulder and his heart picked up a manic tempo.

"This is a misunderstanding," he said.

He had gone over this so many times. Locked in his cell, once the panic had subsided, he had planned exactly what he would say when finally given the chance to explain himself. All of this was absurd, there must have been some mistake somewhere that had trickled down uncorrected to this officer and confused him about who Ethan was. He just had to clarify everything and help him understand the situation. But still his voice faltered when he continued: "If we can talk this through, I'm sure we-"

"Yes," Linde cut in. "Let's talk."

He folded his hands behind his back and strode forward with a smooth gait that seemed unsuited for his powerful build. Ethan felt the need to withdraw again but the guards loomed only an inch behind him.

The overhead light painted a deep shadow over Linde's eyes as he approached.

"Who the hell are you?" he asked calmly.

"My name is Ethan Lythmer. I'm a meteorologist." Ethan swallowed and held his injured arm closer. "I came here because-"

"Wait, wait, wait," Linde interrupted again and Ethan's face flushed with indignation. Linde raised an eyebrow and the smallest hint of mockery made its way into his voice. "Really? That's-"

Firmly, Ethan repeated: "Like I said, I came here because-"

Linde backhanded him. The crack of skin on skin followed a flash of pain and Ethan staggered. The guard behind him caught and righted him roughly, bringing him face to face with Linde again.

"That's what you're going with?" Linde asked as if he'd never been interrupted. Ethan's throat constricted with both anger and a new, freezing cold feeling that was slowly beginning to frost over his lungs. "A meteorologist?" Linde repeated. "You expect me to believe that?"

"If you just listened to me" Ethan bit back, "you wouldn't-" Pain flashed again. Linde's fist struck him in the mouth, blood burst out like molten metal. Ethan spat and gasped, fire spilled out from where he'd been hit and lit his mind up with bewildered rage. He whipped back up but Linde seized his chin and wrenched his head up. Through the tension of straining muscle, Ethan ground out: "You have no right-"

The next punch forced all air out of him; hard and precise in the diaphragm. His words broke into a cry when the impact speared pain through his arm. Linde released him and Ethan's knees buckled. Gasping for air, he collapsed to the floor; the basement closed in around him, all oxygen had escaped it and now he was suffocating. With every forced, painful inhale, he fought against a grip on his ribcage. At the same time, the cold inside him grew. It spread across his body, laced through his limbs and opened in his stomach a freezing cold, bottomless pit of fear.

This was all a mistake. A horrible mistake that Linde will realize any moment now, any moment-

"Get him up," Linde ordered.

The two guards hauled Ethan up by his arms and dragged him forward. He scrambled to catch his balance, but it wasn't his mind telling his legs to move. There was a wall of ice between him and his body and within it, all he could hear was his own frantic heartbeat echoing in the frigid confinement. His vision tunneled, the basement retreated into the shadows and all he could see was the white stain of Linde's face in the dark.

The guards pushed him down onto the chair. Something clamped around his ankles but before he could look down, a guard tugged his right arm down to the chair's armrest and locked a handcuff around his wrist. He caught her gaze - cold and impassive. She nodded towards him, then to the other armrest. He understood immediately and opened his mouth to protest.

"Now," she said harshly. "Or I'll cuff it."

Ethan's breath caught and his stomach twisted at the thought alone. He couldn't let her do that, he had to move. Her stance left no doubt that she would force him if she had to.

He set his jaw tight and slowly, carefully, shifted his broken arm to lay on the armrest. It took all his strength to push through the stiffness that held it like a concrete cast. The cloud of dull pain that sat inside the limb twisted with the gentle movement and sparks shot all the way up to his shoulder. A deep shudder came over him; no telling if born from pain or fear.

The guard nodded, satisfied, and circled him again, pocketing the spare cuff. Then Linde took her place and stood at ease, watching Ethan like a bird approaching carrion.

"Alright, Ethan," he said. "Here's what I know about you. You showed up out of the blue in one of the most secure complexes on the planet. You don't have a map, you don't have any ID, and as far as I can tell, you don't have a legitimate reason to be here." Ethan took in a breath, but Linde raised his hand to silence him." Here's what I want to know," he said and leaned in closer, looming. "How did you know where to find this place?"

"I didn't," Ethan answered. He couldn't keep the tremble out of his voice. "It was an accident. I was investigating a readout from one of the stations in-"

"Enough," Linde interjected firmly. "Don't lie to me."

"I'm not lying!" Ethan shouted. Linde gripped his chin again, dug his fingers into the fresh bruise. Ethan groaned through clenched teeth.

"Let's start somewhere else," Linde offered. He shoved Ethan's head back and the whole room span. The words sounded distant, threatening: "Who sent you?"

"Nobody sent me." Ethan had to fight down nausea. The ice in his lungs had solidified and he had no space to take a deeper breath.

"Nobody," Linde repeated venomously. "Are you a mercenary then? Selling your findings to the highest bidder?"

"I'm-"

"Back in my day, spies used to stand for something, you know," he mused. He straightened and began to pace slowly back and forth, tapping his fingers together behind his back. "You'd risk your life because there was a cause you were willing to fight for. Your country, your faith, your freedom… If you take that away, spying might be just the least respectable way to make a living."

"I'm not a spy!" Ethan yanked at the cuff on his wrist. The chair rattled but the restraints held. Two strong hands seized his shoulders; a cry of surprise died in his throat as Linde leaned in again.

"Now listen to me, Ethan," he said quietly. "I know your type. I know that it's your daily bread and butter to lie and to deceive, and I know that you've been trained to stick to your story no matter what. But I have a duty to this complex and that duty is to protect it from people like you. So believe me when I say, I will have the truth from you." A small, carnivorous smile stretched his lips. "Sooner or later, I will have it."

"I'm not lying." Ethan couldn't bring his voice higher than a whisper. He dug his fingers into the armrest but they still wouldn't stop shaking. "I'm not a spy. I'm just a meteorologist."

For a moment, Linde was quiet. The cutting chill of his gaze bore into Ethan's mind and wrapped a suffocating pressure around his throat. Then Linde sighed and straightened his back again.

"You took a tumble coming here, didn't you?" he said. "Nasty fall, down that cliff." His tone was conversational but there was something laced through it that made Ethan's heart lurch with panic.

"You hurt your arm," Linde observed. "Is that right?"

He brought his hand down on Ethan's broken arm and squeezed. At first the shock numbed him. Then blinding pain tore through him and he choked on his own voice. He screamed, a half-strangled, warbling sound.

Linde crooked his head, watching Ethan's face twist into a grimace. "I think I can feel where the fracture is," he said and shifted his grip. Under the crushing pressure, the broken bones ground against each other and cut into the swollen tissue around them. Ethan felt every snagged nerve, living flame enveloped his body. He could barely force in a breath but the pain didn't stop; he had to keep screaming. Linde waited, regarding him with mild interest as Ethan fought to breathe and his scream broke apart into whimpers carried by shuddering gasps. Only then did he say:

"Now, I'm not an expert, but that seems pretty bad."

"Stop," Ethan choked out. "Stop, please."

"I can get you a doctor, Ethan," Linde replied calmly. "You just have to tell me who sent you to spy on my complex."

"I wasn't sent here! This is a misunderstanding, please-" His words dissolved into a howl as Linde leaned his whole weight onto the fracture. Ethan writhed but the guard held him firmly, he had no way to escape the pain. He didn't feel his fingers locking and clawing, everything went white and sizzled away into this burning, unbearable agony.

"Who sent you?" Linde whispered.

"Nobody," Ethan almost sobbed. "Please, believe me. I don't want to be here, I didn't mean to find-"

Linde didn't listen. He took Ethan's wrist and lifted his forearm; pain shot down through his elbow. Then he twisted the limb. The snapped bones crossed over each other and displaced with a sickening squelch. All other sound disappeared. Ethan couldn't hear himself screaming, couldn't feel the hands pinning him down as his body seized into an agonized arch. There was only pain, only the horrifyingly definite feeling of his own bones ripping his flesh. Eyes screwed tight, he didn't even realize Linde had grabbed his chin again until sudden tension strangled the voice in his throat. A haze of tears blurred Linde's features, a deafening ringing distorted his words:

"You are committed, I'm going to give you that," he said. "But these are all non-answers so far and I don't have any use for that. I want details." He forced Ethan to meet his gaze. "How did you find this place?" he asked. "Were you given coordinates? Spoken directions?"

Ethan wheezed desperately, every inhale sending more fire through his whole body. "It was an accident," he could only repeat. "I didn't mean to find it, I got stranded and-"

Linde cut in: "Still sticking to this story, then?"

"It's the truth." Ethan's voice cracked on a whimper. He couldn't tear his eyes away from Linde's hand locked on his shaking arm. God, please, let go, please don't do it again. "Please."

Linde thought. He stood motionless, only his eyes roaming Ethan's face as if analyzing the terror and pain etched into it. Only Ethan's ragged, trembling breaths disturbed the silence and he prayed, prayed to every god under the sun for this man to see reason.

But eventually, Linde said:

"No, I don't think that is true."

And he bent Ethan's arm hard, squeezing with his other hand right over the fracture. The sharp tips of the bones scraped against each other and rent apart the muscle around them. Ethan's scream rose, then fell apart into frantic, strangled sobs; then formed back into a wail of agony; and then the pain kept burning. Among the blaze that consumed everything in and outside his body, Linde's words hissed like steam:

"But we'll get there. Believe me when I say it. We will yet get to the truth."

[fiercely-raging-writer]

Happy STS!

Is there a minor character you fell in love with? A character who wound up becoming way more important than you intended?

Are there any scenes or details that you aren't going to be able to fit in that you wish you could?

How long have you been working on your WIP(s)?

Does your WIP have a theme song? What is it? If not, what song would you choose to describe the whole story?

Are there any characters or plot points that have changes a lot since you first got the idea for them?

If you were to be one of your OCs for a day, who would it be and why?

Share a line you're very proud of!

Give me a random piece of trivia about your story. Any interesting fact or tidbit!

Have fun, and I hope you have an awesome Saturday!!

~Morri🗡 (@memento-morri-writes)

happy sts morri!! this is from a while ago 😅 thanks for the ask!! <3

hmm, i don't think so? i just kind of have the main characters all set out and plotted and stuff already, and i don't really accidentally end up giving a character more importance than i wanted? akjdsdkjd

SO MANY. SO MANY. i've written so many found family scenes from elemental that do not fit ANYWHERE into the story, and there's this really desperate scene at the end of we'll make it to the ocean that i Long To Include but it doesn't fit in with the ending ://

so long. SO LONG. some for more than three years, some for less than three months shfsdkjjs

HA okay so for 20 seconds left, it's the mission impossible theme. i wanted to make it a classic spy story, but add twists of my own, with young, preteen, indian characters, targeted towards them. the mi theme is cheesy as hell and it fits the Spy Genre, and also i love the fucking series it's love of my whole entire life

god, yes!! at the end of wmitto, i planned a Lot More Deaths than originally occurred, but then i wrote a Scene, and i came up with the title, and then i went, 'wait...' and then everything Changed.

definitely iza. i mean, WINGS OF FIRE. magic powers. sexy. fiercely confident. i'd love to be her. she is also a DEMON like y e s

“I must be something special, then,” Michael says lowly, and removes a hand from his pocket, placing it over Jack’s hand. His first two fingers take Jack’s pulse, rapid fast, and he can feel the cool metal of the gun, too, a sharp contrast to the warmth of Jack’s skin.

ooh okay, so, for 20sl, anusha's parents met at an archaeology dig, where her mom accidentally fell into the pit they were excavating, and she found anusha's dad there. it turned out he'd fallen in before her, and he was searching the site without his team, so no one could rescue him :/ BUT anusha's mom [deepa] and ayush [anusha's dad] end up excavating the pit as they're stuck in it and discover a couple of Cool Ceramics and nerd out over it and five years later they're married. :D

thank you for the ask again!! i loved answering these questions <3

[emma-nation]

The Devil In I - Bela x OC (Resident Evil Village AU) - Chapter 9

“Step inside, see the Devil in I”

Summary: Aleena Novak is a 19 years old orphan who desired more than living in a village in the middle of nowhere. A talented artist with a big future ahead, she gets the scholarship of her dreams in United States. But everything changes when her twin brother, Auryk, steals an important artifact from Castle Dimitrescu.

In this adventure, Aleena will find way more than she expected.

“You’ll realize I’m not your Devil anymore”

Pairing: Bela Dimitrescu x f!OC

Genre: Between T and M (Trigger warning: for violence, blood, abuse and eventual smut)

Tag List: @nydeiri

Castle Dimitrescu, Lady Dimitrescu's Bedroom - Present Days

What did dying feels like? Bela couldn't remember the day she died, before she was turned. For many and many years, she wondered how it even happened. Maybe she was incurably ill. That would be the only plausible explanation on why Lady Dimitrescu decided to transform her into a vampire. Having an illness herself, she must've felt sorry for Bela being so young and already losing her life.

But that night, after being drugged by Mother Miranda, the memory from that tragic event returned to her memory stronger like never.

It was a cold night in the 1950's. Alcina threw a special dinner and invited her three favorite and most loyal servants. Three young girls. They felt honored sitting at the same table as their mistress. They were chatting and giggling but then... something started to feel strange. Starting by the fact none of the servants were around.

It began as a burning sensation in Bela's stomach. She tried to ignore it but it'd only grow stronger. She dropped the silverware she was holding. She attempted to swallow another sip of tea. By her side, she noticed one of the other two girls, the brunette one, starting to show signs of discomfort too.

"What's wrong, my dear?" Lady Dimitrescu asked when the red haired girl, the youngest of the three, started coughing.

"I can't..." she tried to answer, but the words got lost in her throat as she began to suffocate, "b-breathe..."

Bela tried to stand up and help her, but her surroundings started to spin. She held on the table for support. At this point, the brunette girl was already lying on the floor, having some kind of seizure. She looked at Lady Dimitrescu again, but she didn't seem to be worried. She seemed abnormally calm.

"W-What have you..." before she could finish the question, her lungs could no longer fill with oxygen. Her throat and her airways started to burn. She tried and tried to breathe, but it seemed impossible. The weakness started on her legs and spread to the rest of her body really quickly. In fact, she barely felt when she collapsed on the floor. When the seizures started, she was barely conscious. Her vision was already going black, but she still had time to see the Countess staring at her body, almost lifeless, as she said:

"Don't worry, daughter. Everything will be alright."

Poisoned. She was poisoned.

When Bela woke up it was already morning. She could tell by the rays of sunlight entering through the windows. She hadn't died this time, but the sensations she experienced were quite similar. Her head was aching intensely and her vision was still blurred. Whatever Miranda had injected in her blood had affected her senses very badly.

"Aleena," she finally remembered. She tried to get up but her legs were still weak. "I need to find her."

She kept moving slowly, using the walls and furniture for support. If only she could transform into flies, it would be a lot easier, but it hurt to even try.

"Fuck!" Bela cursed, frustrated. She threw herself on a couch for a moment. She needed to rest.

Her eyes analyzed her surroundings. Although Bela was in her mother's chambers, Lady Dimitrescu was nowhere to be seen.

Hours had passed since she was drugged. Anything could've happened during this time. She wondered if Aleena was still there and if she was okay. She had to be. But what if she slept for days? What if the ritual had already happened? Aleena could be dead in that exact moment and she wasn't there to protect her. That thought made her stomach feel sick. And rare were the occasions she felt sick after being turned.

"Bela!" Daniela opened the door, she seemed so confused and scared as she was. "There you are, sister! Oh my god, I was starting to think you were dead."

"You wish..." Bela moaned sarcastically. She couldn't miss the opportunity. "What the fuck happened, Dani? Where's that bitch?"

"Who? Cassandra?"

Daniela handed her a cup full of human blood. Bela drank it all in one sip. That was the only thing able to restore her body from the damage Miranda caused.

Cassandra. She remembered her middle sister being the one who told her to go to her mother's office. Traitor! She should've known when she appeared to be so supportive of her relationship with Aleena in the previous day.

"No, Mother Miranda."

"Mother Miranda was here?"

Before she could answer, the door opened with a slam. It was Cassandra, looking completely fine. She had blood around her mouth and all over her dress. In a blink of an eye, Bela lunged forward, pinning her against the wall.

"How could you?!" She yelled. "You sent me directly to a trap!"

"What are you talking about?" Cassandra argued. "Somebody caught me on a corridor and stabbed my neck with a needle, then I passed out."

"Come on, don't lie to us," Daniela shouted. "You entered my room last night and drugged me."

"And why I would even do this to both of you?"

Realizing what happened, Bela immediately let her go.

"Mother Miranda," she huffed. "She must have shapeshifted into you and attacked us all."

It was time to tell her sisters what she learned from Heisenberg. Miranda had already started to proceed with her plans and it was a matter of time before she attempted to kill them.

"This bitch is going to die!" Cassandra punched the wall. "Nobody pretends to be me and lives."

"This is the least of our problems," Bela said. "She can be anywhere right now, pretending to be someone we trust and ready to kill us all."

"Where's mom?" Daniela asked. "I couldn't find her anywhere."

Lady Dimitrescu was the last person Bela wanted to see. She lied and betrayed her, besides helping Mother Miranda to drug her.

"I don't know, I searched for her everywhere," Cassandra told. "On the bright side, there's fresh breakfast spread all around the castle."

"What do you mean, Cassandra?" Bela wanted to know.

"The servants. They're all dead."

"What about Aleena? Have you seen her?"

"No, I thought she was with you."

Bela transformed into flies and went straight to Aleena's bedroom. It was completely empty. The bed was still made as in the previous night. She went to her own bedroom next. The diary was opened on the bed, right on the pages where her father confirmed what Miranda told her in the office, Aleena was indeed the vessel.

Mrs. Volkov corpse was lying on the corridor and not so far away, there was a trail of blood, Aleena's blood. She froze in place, too terrified to even think.

"It doesn't mean anything," Daniela placed a hand on her shoulder. "Maybe she managed to escape."

"She probably did, that girl is fierce," Cassandra added, noticing how disturbed her older sister looked. "I mean, she's not one of the Lords or a servant. There's no reason for that crazy bitch to murder her."

"There is," Bela sighed deeply. "She's the vessel. Miranda was playing us like puppets. The goblet thing was already intentional, to bring Aleena to the castle where she'd be safe until she prepared the ritual."

"Oh fuck, this is bad."

"I... I'm going to the village. Maybe she's hiding in her house."

----------

Eastern Europe, Village - Present Days

When Bela left, she didn't even bother to check the temperature or to mount one of her horses. She transformed into flies and started to fly to the village as fast as she could. Everything that mattered was finding Aleena. She wasn't dead. She couldn't be dead. They were going to California together and they'd start a brand new life.

She stopped by her house first. The door was locked and the extra key hidden in a vase at the entrance, just where Aleena placed it before they returned to the castle.

"It doesn't mean she's not here," Bela tried to convince herself. "She must have found another way in, to not make it obvious she's hiding here."

She used the key to open the front door. The house was dark and silent. There weren't any signs of somebody's recent presence. She checked every room, the basement, the secret weapon storage... Aleena definitely wasn't there.

"Maybe she's at the pub or at one of her friends' houses," Bela concluded.

There was no way. She had to do that. She took a deep breath, gathering enough courage to enter the pub. There were only three people in there, a middle aged woman behind the counter, a blonde young male cleaning the tables and a girl, who was strangely similar to Cassandra, chatting to both of them. Bela recognized them from the pictures Aleena showed her. They were Olga, Gustav and Elena.

"Hello," she announced her presence. They all stopped to stare at her, but none of them had freaked out yet. Maybe they hadn't noticed the tattoo.

"How can we help you, darling?" The older woman asked. "Are you a foreigner?"

"I... uhh... I'm looking for Aleena Novak."

"She isn't here," it was the boy who answered this time. He had a lot of anger in his voice. "She was taken to Castle Dimitrescu a few weeks ago. We don't even know if she's still alive."

"She is," Bela told. "I've been taking care of her."

They finally understood. Their expressions all changed to pure terror and panic. The two younger adults hid behind the counter, together with the woman. The male grabbed a shotgun.

"Get the hell out of here!" He ordered. "And if Aleena escaped, don't you even dare to touch her again or I'll kill you. I'll find her and bring her home."

"Trust me, manthing. This is exactly what I'm planning to do. Mother Miranda has kidnapped her. She has been planning to sacrifice her in some kind of sick ritual tonight."

"Liar!" Cassandra's doppelgänger shouted. "Mother Miranda wouldn't do such a thing! She's always guiding and protecting us. Everything she does is for the best of all of us."

"Listen, little one," Bela exhaled deeply. She had no patience for humans. That was the reason why she avoided them. They'd usually annoy her to the point they became her prey. "I have proof. Aleena's father has left this diary, reporting everything."

"That man was insane. Most of the villagers hated him."

"But he never lied," Gustav spoke. "Adrian had some crazy theories nobody ever believed but... I've never seen him lying before. He was a man of his word."

"This is true," Olga added. "We grew up together. He was absolutely nasty, a real bastard, but not a liar. He wouldn't invent such a thing, especially when it came to protecting Aleena."

Olga locked the door and the group reunited in one of the tables, analyzing the notes Adrian Novak left.

"Fuck," Gustav cursed, while trying to speak on his phone. "Auryk must've gone after this contacts. I can't reach him."

"Do you have any ideas of where Aleena could've gone to, if she was trying to hide?" Bela asked.

"Other than our houses and the pub? Well... we had this fort in the woods when we were children. Maybe she's hiding there."

"Show me the way, little man."

But Gustav wasn't the one who was most familiar with the path to Aleena's childhood fort, it was Elena. The young woman followed them, complaining about literally everything and praising Mother Miranda.

"Mother Miranda would never do that!" Elena protested. "I'd trust her with my life."

"I was about your age when she did this to me, without my consent," Bela took off the hat she was wearing, exposing her scar. "And do you think immortality is a blessing? Try spending your life locked inside a castle, without being able to go outside most of the time."

"Why are we even trusting her, Gustav? She feeds on human blood and now we're alone with her in the middle of nowhere."

"If that makes you feel more comfortable, I've already had breakfast. Besides, I prefer drinking men's blood."

"Can we just focus on Aleena?" Gustav scolded both of them. Bela had finally found a man she respected. That boy was completely loyal and protective of her girlfriend, so he deserved some credit. "God knows why Bela is searching for her but... we have the same goal here."

"We're dating," Bela informed them of the latest news. "I love her. For real."

Both of the young humans stared at her in shock.

"It seems like we'll have a lot to catch up when I see Aleena again," the boy shook his head in disbelief. "I thought the vampire thing was just a phase."

They finally found the small wooden fortress in the middle of the woods. It was mostly destroyed, but it still could fit one adult person inside it.

"Aleena!" Gustav called. There was no answer. Still, Aleena was hurt. Maybe she was unconscious.

"Go," Bela poked Elena and ordered. "You're the shortest of us. Check if she's in there."

The girl rolled her eyes, but obeyed, ducking and entering the small fort. But there wasn't even a sign Aleena was there recently.

"Where do we search now?" Elena asked.

"I'll go to the other Lords," Bela told. "Maybe one of them is keeping her for Miranda. Thank you for your help, little humans. It was a pleasure to meet you."

Bela walked away from them. Maybe in another life, they could've been friends. The priority now was to find Aleena. She wondered if the girl went to Heisenberg seeking for protection or if Miranda had captured and taken her to that creepy cave. There wasn't much time to think, she needed to act.

She followed to Heisenberg's factory. As usual the man was swearing and torturing human beings on his basement.

"What brings you here, kid?" He asked. "Did you find the diaries?"

"Yes, but too late unfortunately," she answered. "The information we were searching for: all the women in Aleena's family have some kind of immunity against the creatures and their mutations. They healed after getting bitten by Lycans, Aleena healed when you attacked her... she's the vessel."

"We have to kill her immediately. Before Miranda puts her hands on her. If that happens, we're fucked."

"She already did. She showed up in the castle last night, drugged me and my sisters, killed the servants and now... I can't find Aleena anywhere."

"Girl, you had the opportunity in your hands," he clenched his fists. "If you had killed her, like you freaks do to every single human that steps into that castle, we wouldn't be in this situation."

"Shut up, Heisenberg!" Bela grabbed a piece of metallic scrap from the floor and threw in the man's direction. "I had no idea. Even if I did, she's my girlfriend and I have to save her before she's sacrificed on Miranda's ritual."

"Good luck with that. The crazy bitch is very good hiding things."

And Bela knew that. Next, she went to Moreau's, Miranda's most loyal follower. She didn't reveal any information, she simply tricked him by inventing an excuse, that stupid freak was easy to fool. But Aleena certainly wasn't there either. Using her flies, she checked the entire place. She did the same at Donna's house. While she entertained the woman and her creepy doll having a tea party with them, her flies inspected every corner of her eerie house.

She was about to follow to Miranda's cave when she ran into Cassandra, in the middle of the way.

"What are you doing, Bela?" She asked. "Are you trying to get yourself killed?

"I'm searching for Aleena. She's gotta be somewhere and the last place I must check is the cave."

"Mother is home," her sister announced. "She wants to talk to you."

----------

Castle Dimitrescu, Living Room - Present Days

In Bela's imagination, Lady Dimitrescu would apologize. Admit she had made a huge mistake and promise her they'd find Aleena together. That was who her adoptive mother was, she'd always do anything to make her daughters happy. But at the same time, she was also that same woman from her memory. The selfish Countess who killed three young girls to have them as her adoptive daughters. She killed, violated and turned them into monsters. What kind of mother was that?

The three sisters were sitting on the couch, waiting as their mother brought a tray with tea and some other treats. That would probably be their only food for days, as Lady Dimitrescu and Mother Miranda had killed all the servants.

Lady Dimitrescu sat on an armchair in front of them, looking at Bela mostly.

"I understand you're confused, daughters. But I'll explain everything."

"Where's Aleena?" Bela quickly asked. That was the only thing that mattered. Who cared about Mother Miranda's child who died ages ago? "What have you two done to her?"

"Bela, daughter... I understand you're upset and frustrated. However, Mother Miranda has been searching for the perfect vessel to bring her daughter back to life for many and many years. This vessel happens to be Aleena. It's her fate, her purpose."

Bela eyes were burning in pure rage. How could Alcina be so blind? Even Heisenberg, that scumbag of man, was smarter than her mother was.

"Her fate is to live her own life, to go to California and achieve her dreams. Her fate is to be with me!"

"I apologize for having to get rid of all of our servants," she clearly ignored her daughter's objections. "They wouldn't understand what's to come. Once Eva is back to life, things will change. I'd like to ask you girls to behave and treat her well, like if she's a new sister of yours. We'll be throwing a party to welcome Eva to our family and I'll need your help to organize it."

"Party?!" Bela let out a sarcastic laugh. "Are you naive or only stupid? Miranda is going to kill you before this ritual is even finished! It has been her plan all along."

"Bela!" Lady Dimitrescu's eyes narrowed and she raised her voice. "I'm your mother! You owe me some respect, little lady."

"I don't! Not when you drugged me and let Miranda kidnap my girlfriend. I want to know where she is."

"Daughter..." Alcina grabbed her by the shoulders and lowered her voice. An useless attempt to help her to calm down. "Aleena is gone. She's dead."

The world seemed to stop. As well as the clock. The voices. Everything. Not even Bela's brain was capable of working and processing the words she had just listened. Dead. Aleena was dead. Her Aleena. Her girlfriend. The woman she loved. She stopped breathing. Her stomach ached as much as in the night she was poisoned. She felt she was about to collapse and die again. Her heart was beating in a strange manner. It was out of control. She was out of control.

Bela raised her golden yellow eyes, filled with hateful tears and stared directly into Lady Dimitrescu's eyes.

"You..." she clenched her fists. "You lied to me... You betrayed me..."

"I was willing to let her live, daughter," the woman tried to excuse herself. "Until the last meeting. Mother Miranda told me the truth and asked me to give her the vessel."

"HER NAME WAS ALEENA," using her strength, Bela grabbed the heavy coffee table and threw it across the room, shocking her mother and sisters. "She had a name! She was NOT a vessel."

Very rare were the times Bela actually cried after being turned. She cried when she first woke up in excruciating pain, with that huge wound on the side of her head. She cried later, when she felt lost, without knowing who or what she was. And she was crying now. Without Aleena, she felt lost again. She had nothing left. She no longer wished to live. A life without that girl's contagious joy, optimism and bravery was meaningless.

"Bela..." Lady Dimitrescu tried to touch her, comfort her somehow, but the blonde girl slapped her hand away.

"I always did everything you asked me... I always tried to be the perfect daughter for you... AND FOR WHAT?" Bela sobbed. "The only thing I ever ask you, you denied me. You took Aleena from me. You chose Miranda over your own daughter!"

"I had no choice, daughter! She'd turn against us if I refused to give her Aleena. Who knows what she'd be capable of doing?"

"She's doing it anyways. She's going to kill us all now she's gotten what she wanted."

She started to walk away. She had to be alone. As far away as possible from that woman, from that family, from that stupid castle. That small bed & breakfast at the village seemed like a good option.

"Daughter, wait," Alcina went after her, as she entered her bedroom.

"Don't you ever call me daughter again, Lady Dimitrescu," Bela angered. "I'm not your daughter. You kidnapped, killed me and turned me into a monster. Who knows what you've done to my real parents. We're not your daughters, we're only your toys, your dolls. You're not that different from your sister, Donna, after all."

She slammed the door and locked it. The bedroom was still the same way they left in the previous night. The candles, the flowers, the discs... Aleena's perfume was still on her pillows. Bela threw herself on the bed, holding the pillow against her body as she cried uncontrollably.

This was all her fault. They should've finished reading the diaries earlier and found out the truth before Miranda's visit, but she distracted Aleena, wishing to spend as much time with her as possible before she left to California. She should've been there to protect her, she promised it. She shouldn't have trusted the woman she used to call 'mother'. She was an idiot and now, Aleena was gone. Forever.

----------

Castle Dimitrescu, Guest Room - Present Days

Memories. Only a few days earlier Bela was afraid memories would be everything she'd have left from Aleena and now, it really was. Without anybody noticing, she went to the guest room the girl had been staying during those weeks in the castle. She obviously wasn't there, but traits of her presence were still all around.

Her clothes were still in the closet. Some where lying on the armchair or even around the floor. Bela grabbed one of her t-shirts, one from Aleena's favorite TV show. It still had her perfume on it.

"I miss you, love," she inhaled deeply the sweet fragrance. "So much it's killing me."

Then, she took the sketch book from the desk. Aleena was the most talented artist Bela had ever met. Her sister, Daniela, was a good artist, but she wasn't so creative, so expressive and precise on her traces. Bela had many classes with Lady Dimitrescu, and though she could paint decently, it wasn't her strong suit.

The drawing was still there. The one Aleena where was drawing her face. The reason why they kissed that night in the library, when she said Bela was worth being remembered.

"And now I'm the one who have nothing to remind me of you, Aleena. Remind me of every detail of your perfect green eyes, your smooth brown hair and those sweet freckles all over your body."

Her cell phone was still inside the bedside table's drawer. Bela turned it on. Aleena had set a picture of them together as her lockscreen. She smiled. In the gallery, she found many and many pictures of all the days they spent together, since the lunch Bela threw on her birthday when she arrived.

There were videos too and as soon Bela heard Aleena's voice, she couldn't help but start crying again. Why did her mother betrayed her like that? She could've helped her to save Aleena. She could've helped them to take down Miranda. That was what a real mother was supposed to do!

"Hey," she rolled her eyes, noticing she had forgotten to lock the door again. Cassandra was standing right behind her. "I'm came here to check on you."

"Leave me alone, Cassandra," Bela angered. "You didn't even like her."

"This isn't true. Aleena wasn't my favorite person in the world, not that I have one by the way, but still... I didn't want her to die."

Bela ignored her. Cassandra didn't have maturity enough to understand how she was feeling. Sometimes she wondered if her sister was even able to feel empathy for another being. But then, she was surprised by her next move.

"I'm sorry," her middle sister touched her shoulder slightly, tenderly. "I know she made you happy. Deep down, I was rooting for you both."

She forced a small smile before pulling her sister for an embrace. It was probably the first time they exchanged such a genuine moment of affection.

"We'll make her pay," Cassandra stroked her hair. "Let's kill Bitch Miranda."

The three sisters gathered together in the library. Lady Dimitrescu couldn't be aware of their plans. Daniela revealed her sisters she once heard about a dagger their mother possessed, one that was able to kill any monsters and demons.

"Are you sure about this?" Bela asked to confirm. Daniela had a creative and delusional mind after all.

"Yes," her youngest sister said. "I stole one of her diaries once. She was reporting everything about this dagger, except for its location."

"Then I'll keep her distracted while you search for it," Cassandra suggested. "I'll pretend to help her with her party for Miranda's daughter rebirth."

"What about me?" Bela wanted to know.

"You're not okay, sister. Let us handle this. Save your strength for when we stab the bitch and end her for good."

"As long as you let me do the honors, it's fine by me."

That was it. Bela would pretend to be alright. She would pretend to forgive her mother. And when the time came, she'd get her revenge against Miranda.

But then... there was nothing left for her in this world. With Aleena gone, she lost her only chance of living a new and normal life. She lost the only thing that made her feel happy and human. And if the dagger could kill any monsters and demons, well... it would be able to kill her too.

Still holding Aleena's shirt against her body, Bela lay on the bed and fell asleep, thinking of the moment they'd be reunited again in death. However, she had a terrible nightmare. Aleena was dying in her arms and there was nothing she could do.

She got up and drank some water. It had been hours since Daniela left the room to search for the dagger. She wondered if something had gone wrong. Lady Dimitrescu would never agree with that plan. She was about to leave the bedroom when the red haired girl entered the room so excited she could barely breathe.

"Bela..." she panted, "I found her!"

"The dagger?!" Bela asked. "Where is it?"

"No! Aleena. She's alive in the dungeons!"

----------

Castle Dimitrescu, Dungeons - Present Days

I opened my eyes, but I couldn't see anything. The environment around me was different from everywhere I had been in the last few weeks, the air was humid but still suffocating. It also smelled terribly, like rotting flesh and blood. I tried to stand up but my leg was still badly injured. I wondered how long it'd take for the amulet to heal my body again. Maybe it only worked once. Or maybe it had to do with the fluid Cassandra injected on me before she threw me inside that nasty cell.

Speaking of Bela's sister, I was pissed. Truly pissed. It was no secret she never liked me, but I never thought she'd be able to betray her own sister like that. Telling Bela to go to their mother's office only to bring me to the dungeons was a low blow, even for her. And there was Mrs. Volkov too. I couldn't believe she was dead.

"H-Help... somebody help me..."

I tried to scream but the blood loss and the drug made me too weak. I had to find a way out. A way to regain my forces and escape that place.

It didn't take long for me to lose my conscience again. As much as I attempted to stay awake and hear any signals someone could be around, I just couldn't. I was trapped in that endless cycle of waking up for a few minutes, moan in pain and passing out again. That was it. The Mother Miranda bitch was certainly behind it. When the right moment came, she'd come and take me for the ritual. Drugged as I was, I wouldn't be able to fight it.

"Aleena!" I heard Bela's voice, approaching. Maybe it was just another hallucination. "Oh my god!"

The cell's door opened, allowing some light to enter. I was able to distinguish my girlfriend's beautiful face among all that darkness.

"It's okay, love. You'll be okay, I promise you."

I forced a small smile as she placed my head on her lap. Using a blade, she opened a small gash on her wrist and forced it into my mouth.

"Drink it," Bela ordered. "My blood is going to heal your wounds and the drug effects."

I felt my stomach twisting from the metallic taste of blood going down my throat. I definitely wasn't born to be a vampire. For a second, I thought I was going to throw up.

"Shhhh," she held me still as the nausea struck. "Just breathe. Hold it down and you'll be okay."

I did as she told. I closed my eyes and took a few deep breaths, the nausea was slowly going away. Bela started to caress my face and I felt as some warm tears dropped on my forehead.

"Hey, I'm just a little beaten up," I assured her. "But I'm starting to feel better."

"I... I thought you were dead. My mother told me you were dead."

Why would Lady Dimitrescu do such a thing? Of course, she needed to make sure Bela wouldn't ruin Miranda's plans. She needed to convince her to not search for me.

I was already strong enough to sit. I hugged Bela very very tightly. She was sobbing desperately. Her heart was beating so fast inside her chest, it seemed like it'd explode at any moment.

"I'm so sorry," I kissed her forehead. "I'm here and I'm not leaving you ever again. I promise."

"You're the vessel, Aleena," Bela told me. "Your body is immune to the attacks of any creatures in the village. And now Miranda wants to use you to bring her daughter back to life. She believes your body is going to accept the mutation."

She also told me about my amulet. Miranda was the one to sell it to Auryk. I immediately ripped it off from my neck.

"I knew about being the vessel. I discovered it right after you left the bedroom. My father knew it and Auryk did too, this is why he wanted to get me out of the country so badly."

Bela wasn't listening to me. She was still staring at my face in disbelief, her eyes glistening with tears from the relief of finding out I was still alive. She cupped my face between her hands and pressed her lips on mine multiple times.

"I'm going to fix this," she was still crying. "I promise you. We have a plan to kill Miranda. There's a dagger hidden here in the castle, it can kill any monsters or demons. Daniela is searching for it, while Cassandra is distracting my m-," she hesitated to say that word, "my mother."

"Okay, but Cassandra was the one to kill Mrs. Volkov to capture me. We can't trust her at all!"

Of course. The bitch had more tricks I wasn't even aware of. She could shapeshift. Now I finally knew how my father was probably killed or how Auryk obtained that amulet from her. It was also obvious who attacked the castle that morning, Miranda was willing to test my healing properties again.

"She didn't. Mother Miranda can shapeshift into any person, this is why we need to be careful. We have this safe word, to know we're the actual Dimitrescu sisters. It's 'blowfly'."

I sighed and attempted to break the tension.

"And how do you know I'm the real Aleena?" I smiled.

"Trust me, love. I know," Bela kissed me, slowly and passionate. "Otherwise, I wouldn't be doing this. Imagine how disgusting it would be to kiss that crazy bitch."

We both broke into laughs. Then, she took my hand and helped me to stand up.

"We need to get you out of here. My mother can't know I've found you. Miranda is coming to pick you up at midnight for the ritual."

Through the secret passages we made to the stables, where Bela had already left my bags and a horse prepared to take me to the village.

"Once you get there," she told me. "Just drive as far as you can. Go to the city, find your brother and fly to United States."

And then I realized.

"But Bela... what about you?"

"I'm staying here, love. I'm going to kill Miranda, together with my sisters and Heisenberg."

"And then you'll meet me there, right?!" I raised my voice, fighting hard against the tears that insisted falling down. "You'll go to California."

She was in silence for a moment, trying to find the right words, but I already knew what she wanted to say. First, she handed me my cell phone.

"You said you wanted something to remember. Now you have plenty of pictures of me in this device of yours."

"Bela... what are you saying?"

"Let's be honest, Aleena," she looked down. "It was never a possibility and you knew it. We'd have to stop at the first temperature drop we came across. We probably wouldn't even make it to the airport."

"I said I'm going to find a way! It's Summer, dammit. It's not so cold away from the mountains and once we arrive in California, it'll be even hotter."

"You know your world would never accept me, love. Look at me, I have this nasty scar, this weird tattoo, I need to drink human blood to live..."

"STOP MAKING EXCUSES TO BREAK UP WITH ME! I'LL FIND A WAY! FOR ALL OF THIS. IF THEY CAN'T ACCEPT YOU, THEN FUCK THEM! I LOVE YOU AND IT'S ALL THAT MATTERS."

"I love you too," Bela kissed my forehead. "And this is why I'm letting you go."

"Even if I go, Bela," I argued, punching her shoulder slightly, "it doesn't have to end! I'm going to call you. I'm going to write you. And I'll come here to visit you too."

"In the first few weeks, love. Then, you'll become too busy to write. Our phone calls will become shorter because you'll be too tired. You'll disappear for a few days. We'll start to fade, little by little. And finally someday, you'll meet somebody new. Somebody who can make you laugh and distract you from your tragic past. Somebody who can take you to an actual date. Somebody you can introduce to your family and friends. Somebody who actually deserves you. Who can give you a future with marriage and children. Because she isn't dead. Because she isn't... me."

"I don't want any of this! I want you and only you. This future? We can have it! Here in this fucking castle or in my old small house. I don't care if I have to serve tables for the rest of my life, as long as I have you."

"You deserve a lot more than that."

"And so do you. What are you going to do, huh? To keep playing house with the woman who killed and turned you into a vampire? Serving her every wish and pretending you love this life? Or sleep with a different servant every week to hide the fact you're completely lonely and miserable?"

"Yes, Aleena. It has been this way for six decades now and it's not going to change. I have no choice, I'm sorry."

She vanished into a swarm of flies and disappeared, leaving me completely alone in the stables. I fell on my knees again, sobbing and screaming my lungs out.

"Bela, come back here!" I cried. "I love you! Please... come back..."

I still waited for a few minutes, but as I knew and as Mrs. Volkov always warned me, when Bela made a decision nothing would change her mind. Not even her mother or her sisters. Not even me.

----------

Castle Dimitrescu, Bela's Room - Present Days

"I'm hungry," Cassandra complained from the couch. "Pretty please... I'm helping you with the secret mission. A scrambled egg is enough."

"Tell Lady Dimitrescu to cook," Bela remained unmoved on her bed, staring at the ceiling while wearing Aleena's jacket. The one she borrowed her when the castle was attacked. It was the only memory she'd have from the woman she loved. "She was the one to kill all the servants."

Bela was listening to an old love song from the 60's. It was the one thing she was actually capable of doing in that moment. She couldn't even manage to create different scenarios about how she could kill Miranda inside her mind, or even wander around the castle searching for the cursed knife.

She knew Aleena had safely arrived in her house at the village. She sent one of her flies to follow her and observe her for how long it was possible. The girl was completely devastated, heartbroken and it killed her to see that. She could she glimpses of the moments where she sobbed while packing her bags and taking them to her old truck. But it was the best for both of them. She'd never be safe by Bela's side. Especially while Miranda was still around.

"This music is making me nauseous," Cassandra went to the disc player and turned it off. "You should've gone with her then."

"It was the safest for her. Mother would come after me immediately and take her back to Miranda's claws."

The brunette sister went to her own bedroom and returned with a book in hands, what surprised Bela because Cassandra wasn't much of a reader.

"Check this out. I asked the Duke to get you the sequel," and she started to read, adopting the same dramatic tone as usual. "As much as I struggled not to think of him, I did not struggle to forget. I worried — late in the night, when the exhaustion of sleep deprivation broke down my defenses — that it was all slipping away. That my mind was a sieve, and I would someday not be able to remember the precise color of his eyes, the feel of his cool skin, or the texture of his voice. I could not think of them, but I must remember them. Because there was just one thing that I had to believe to be able to live — I had to know that he existed. That was all. Everything else I could endure. So long as he existed."

"Ha ha, very funny," Bela rolled her eyes. Deep down she absorbed those words. She feared someday she'd forget all those small details about Aleena too, but knowing she existed someday, and that she loved her back, was enough for her to be able to live for the rest of her immortal days. "Next time, get us something useful. Like that fucking dagger."

The door opened and Daniela walked inside, pushing a food cart.

"I brought us dinner," she announced.

"Did you kidnap a villager to cook for us?" Cassandra asked, immediately grabbing a plate.

"Of course not! I cooked it myself. If Bela can do it, I can too."

The two eldest sisters exchanged a suspicious glance, before deciding they were not so hungry after all.

"And here is the main dish..." Daniela said, lifting the lid and revealing the content inside the silver pan. "A poisonous dagger."

"You did it!" Bela exclaimed, surprised and proud.

"Yes! Let's chop that bitch to pieces."

Daniela hugged her eldest sister again. It was happening too often lately, for Bela's discomfort. But this time, she accepted the hug.

"Where's mom?" Cassandra interrupted the moment. "I haven't heard from her since I left her alone in her bedroom."

The castle was way too quiet. It wasn't the first time the servants had to be gotten rid of and they were completely by themselves. Or maybe sometimes, Lady Dimitrescu would lock herself in the Opera House to play the piano or even read a book alone in her bedroom, but that wasn't the case this time. That was a different kind of silence. A silence that indicated danger, a threat.

"Mother?!" Cassandra called, followed by her two sisters. "Where are you?"

There was no answer. They were about to reach the library when the power went out, as well as the heating system. A wave of panic instantly spread over Bela's body. She feared the cold, more than anything.

"What the hell?!" Daniela yelled. "Who's there? I'm starving and angry, so don't mess with me!"

"Shhhh," Bela silenced her. She had a feeling, a hunch about who could it be. As they approached the office, her suspicions were confirmed by the argument coming from inside the room.

"Where is she, Alcina?!" They heard Miranda yelling. "You promised me to keep her safe!"

"Mother, I swear... she was in the dungeons! There was no way she could escape. The drug was supposed to keep her down until now."

"Your daughters... they must've helped her to escape. Decades trying to find the perfect vessel and they ruined it all. They'll deal with the consequences!"

"Mother, no! Don't hurt them, I'm begging you."

In that moment, the sisters witnessed as a powerful flock of birds started to fly around the caste, shattering all the windows. As the cold air of the night in the mountains filled the entire place, the three sisters knew their ending was imminent.

----------

Eastern Europe, Aleena's House - Present Days

The tears blurred my vision as I followed my way back to the village. Sometimes, I'd stop for a minute, hoping Bela would change her mind and come after me. Why would she assume I was safer without her? If there was someone who could protect me, that was she.

As soon as I arrived, I went straight to the garage, getting my old truck to come back to life. Then, I followed to my bedroom to pack my bags. There wasn't much I actually needed to take, mostly my clothes, my laptop and a few other important belongings. I didn't plan to sell the house anyways. I could come back and take the rest later, if I had to.

My books. I would definitely take at least my favorites. Most of them were gifts from my mom. I couldn't leave those precious treasures behind. As I grabbed one of them to place it inside of my luggage, a small piece of paper fell on the floor:

'Love is not love which alters when it alteration finds. It is an ever fixed mark that looks on tempests and is never shaken. Love alters not with time's brief hours and weeks, but bears it out even to the edge of doom'.

I recognized it. It was an excerpt of William Shakespeare's Sonnet 116. Bela should've left it there when she was alone in my bedroom. In the end, she wrote: 'Please, think of me sometimes. I love you, forever'.

Of course I would. There was no way I'd ever stop loving that girl, or even forgetting about her at all. I could never forget about the girl who threw me the sweetest birthday party or made me the best pancakes in the world. And especially, the first girl I ever loved. I pressed the note against my chest, letting out a few tears. I placed it among my belongings, those I was going to take with me to California.

I heard the front door opening and I immediately grabbed my rifle and my blades too. Something had to at least cause some harm to that bitch. I was slowly going down the stairs in an attack position, when I heard a voice.

"Leena? Are you home?" That was my twin brother, Auryk. "I'm back."

"Auryk," I finally revealed myself. My first impulse was running to his arms, before I remembered all the lies and the betrayal. "You knew it. You fucking knew it and you hid it from me!"

"I'm sorry, okay? I was trying to keep you safe from Miranda. I planned to get you out of here before it all came to surface, but that bitch was already one step ahead."

"We have to go, right now. She's coming after me. I just escaped Castle Dimitrescu."

"Leena, no..." he sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I thought I was clear when I asked you to stay in the castle until I returned."

"Auryk, she drugged me and locked me in the dungeons!" I yelled. "She was going to sacrifice me in a sick ritual tonight. Which part haven't you understand yet?"

"This was the plan, Aleena. When she was vulnerable, during the ritual, the agency would take the opportunity to explode this place and all these freaks."

"WHAT?! What about the village... and the people, their houses? What about ME?! What if I got killed in this process?"

"They're going to evacuate the village in a couple of hours," he explained. "And then, they'll help them to rebuild their lives or something... I don't know for sure. But they would protect us."

"Stop them!" I ordered. I couldn't let them hurt Bela or her sisters. Or even put the villagers in danger. Some of them, such as Olga, Elena and her father would never abandon that place and its traditions. "Right now! You're not going to hurt them. You won't!"

"Aleena, what the fuck? They're monsters! They're going to kill you!"

And then, I did the first thing that came to my mind. It was stupid, unplanned and completely reckless. I knocked my brother's head with the rifle. As soon as he fell unconscious on the floor, I tied him up and locked him inside Adrian's secret storage.

"I'm sorry, Auryk. But I must save my girlfriend."

[professorsnape394]

The Potions Master’s Apprentice

Chapter Three: Steaming Sessions

A/N: This is the third part to my fanficiton ‘The Potions Master’s Apprentice (Severus Snape x OC)’. Chapters 1-16 can be found already uploaded on Wattpad under the same name. Feel free to leave requests in my inbox for anything Snape related you want me to write. Leave a comment below if you wish to be added to my tag list. 

Pairing: Severus Snape x OC (Dumbledore’s Granddaughter)

Summary: A talented young witch is employed as an apprentice professor at Hogwarts, but who will she be working under? Severus Snape is not best pleased with his new responsibility of taking on an apprentice, however she is relentless to create a friendship between them. Will she be successful? Or might the friendship just go a little two far? With the eyes of her grandfather constantly watching over them, an attempt at a relationship might not be in the cards for Aria Dumbledore and Severus Snape.

Word Count: 1726

Warnings: n/a

Credits to Gif Creator

As much as Severus hated to admit it, even to himself, thoughts of the young witch had persistently threatened to enter his mind the week following their initial meeting. Despite how badly Severus wanted to suppress his primal urges, he could not deny he had noticed her beauty.  An attractive witch of her age was a rarity in his life, and so he allowed himself the simple pleasure of a thought or two regarding the new Professor. That was until he actually got to know her. She had taken it upon herself to interrupt his last few weeks of solitude before his life was disrupted by masses insolent children. The once somewhat pleasant thoughts of the woman had now been replaced by anger and agitation. He had in fact been preoccupied in thoughts of Aria Dumbledore upon her arrival to his office on Tuesday morning. He was enraged at her boldness to contradict him and any thoughts he ever had regarding her attractiveness had for sure been killed during their most recent meeting, or so he told himself.

The following day Miss Dumbledore delivered a list of potions she wished to revisit with Professor Snape in order to give him time to prepare for their next session. The temper she had awoken within him remained, as her comments still lingered in his mind. Never before had he met someone so audacious, and brave he hesitated to add, that they would so cunningly insult him in such an underhanded manner. The rage inside him motivated him to test his apprentice's abilities even further. Inspecting the list in front of him Severus Snape began to devise a plan.

"You should have learned by now, Miss Dumbledore, that I am very much a fan of saving time and working as efficiently as possible." Severus begun, warranting an exasperated eye-roll from his coworker as she thought back to the caterpillar scenario. Clearing his throat and shooting her a threatening look Snape continued his speech. "In order to further prove yourself I have arranged for us to complete several potions from your list simultaneously. "

"You should have learned by now, Miss Dumbledore, that I am very much a fan of saving time and working as efficiently as possible." Severus begun, warranting an exasperated eye-roll from his coworker as she thought back to the caterpillar scenario. Clearing his throat and shooting her a threatening look Snape continued his speech. "In order to further prove yourself I have arranged for us to complete several potions from your list simultaneously. "

"I'm sorry?" Aria asked, not fully comprehending how his set up could possibly help her grasp the correct brewing method for each individual potion, especially since they were ones she had admitted she was not completely familiar with.

"As you proved the other evening you are very capable of brewing a potion on your own, with my help you should have no problem perfecting say four? maybe five?" He shrugged slyly.

"Five!?" Aria gasped. "You do realise Professor Snape that the list of potions I gave you were those I am unfamiliar with. I wish to spend the time going over them with you, so when the time comes I will have no problem helping the students. I fear this method may not be ideal in allowing me to master those fine details."

"Well then, Miss Dumbledore, I fear you do not have what it takes to match the skills I require in an assistant."

"I want to make it clear, Professor Snape, that I am not your assistant. I am to be your apprentice. This means it is your duty to train me as such. I will do as you ask of me, but believe me I will not be pushed around and made a fool of for the whole of this year."

"Then I hope this means we understand each other Miss Dumbledore, for I will also not tolerate the back chat I received the other day when lessons finally commence."

"Then I suppose we both have to respect one another’s wishes." Aria stated finally, circling the desk of cauldrons. Beside each cauldron she found the list of instructions. Taking the time to read each one carefully, realising these potions will take a little longer than she anticipated. "These cannot be completed in a day?" She questioned.

"Clever girl, you noticed." Snape retorted sarcastically. "You see now why I could not dedicate one lesson to each potion. The potions have different brewing times and can all be left to rest over night, this gives you time memorise the instructions between lessons. We will complete them over the next three days, giving us both the weekend free."

Complying to his wishes Aria set about collecting her ingredients and began brewing each potion one after the other. It wasn't long before Aria noticed the Potions Master get comfortable behind his desk, burying his head in another one of his dusty old textbooks, she knew he would not be attempting to assist her any time soon.

The day was long and tedious. Neither Severus nor Aria felt the need to engage in any kind of conversation at the risk pissing the other off. Severus was clearly a lot more used to the silence and spent hours behind his desk reading, occasionally making small notes in the margins of his book. Aria on the other hand felt every slight noise she made was amplified a hundred times over, hesitant to make too much noise at the risk of Snape telling her off.

The room quickly became stuffy and humid from the constant steam emitting from all five cauldrons. The young Professor struggled to work in her tight, un-breathable clothing, she had previously thought was a wise choice for her sessions with Severus. The witch peeled her thick locks of hair from her perspiring face, pulling it up into quick messy bun. Struggling to breath from the fumes, Aria took a short break, sliding off her uncomfortable shoes, hiking her skirt up to her thighs, to air out her legs and unbuttoning her blouse exposing her chest. This did not go unnoticed by the older professor, as he stealthily watched her over the top of his book, absentmindedly turning a page ever second or two. Aria let out a throaty groan, fanning herself down with a nearby notebook.

“Aren’t you hot?.” She panted.

Severus felt his jaw almost drop in awe at the woman's movements as she rose from her chair, reaching up to the sky to stretch out her bones, her skirt shifted further up her thighs as she did so.

"Can't we open the door or something." She gasped the heat getting the better of her. Severus wriggled uncomfortably in his seat, unable to take his eyes off her body. Her eye catching his, Aria awkwardly attempted to cover herself up. Shocked at the Professor's boldness, she began to roll down her skirt covering back up her legs, her chest on the other hand remained bare.

"Professor." She spoke again, trying to catch his attention.

"Umm, very well. If you must." He flustered, clearing his throat, embarrassed he had been staring in the first place, let alone been caught out.

"You don't tend to be around women much, do you Severus?" Aria questioned, seeing no reason either of them should pretend she hadn't just caught him looking.

"Professor Snape." He once again stressed. "And I don't really think that's any of your concern, is it Miss Dumbledore."

"Forgive me. I was just trying to make a little conversation." Aria found herself rolling her eyes at the man once again. "The day has dragged in after all, it might go quicker if we talk?"

"I prefer to work in silence." He retorted, carefully ensuring his eyes did not leave the page of his book.

"I'm just saying." She pushed further, ignoring his statement. "I don't blame you. Being stuck in this school 10 months of the year cannot allow for much of a private life."

"No it does not." Severus agreed, his eyes burning into the page, not seeing a word that was written.

"Still." Aria continued, going back to brewing her potions. "It doesn't mean it's impossible. I'm sure there's plenty of women in Hogsmeade willing to date, bar maidens and what not." She shrugged.

"That may very well be true Miss Dumbledore, but I am not interested."

"Men then." She stated, raising one eyebrow playfully, although she knew very well he did not bat for the other team .

"Don't be absurd." The Professor scoffed.

"What about hobbies." She chose to change the subject, turning up the heat on potion number 3. "What do you do for fun?"

"Read." Snape replied bluntly, motioning to the book in front of him, turning the page though no information entered his brain from the last.

The pair continued to talk for the remainder of the day, although Severus provided nothing but blunt responses to his apprentices enquires, he had to admit, he was not completely opposed to her company. Soon it came time for the potions to be taken off their heat and left to rest for the night. It saddened Aria knowing she had to go back to her quarters, having no one to speak to until it came time for dinner with Hagrid, and though she hated to admit it their conversations on bowtruckles and grindylows had become rather tedious.

Pausing as she reached her exit, Aria turned back to her mentor, who didn't even look up from his desk. "Professor Snape." She spoke to get his attention. "Do you fancy joining us for dinner? Hagrid and I, that is. I usually bring food down from the kitchens, so you don't have to worry about his cooking." She laughed nervously.

"Spending my evening in his cramped hut, being drooled on by that beast of his and discussing the best way to distinguish knarls from hedgehogs? Sounds like the perfect evening." He commented sarcastically. "Goodnight, Miss Dumbledore."

Letting out a short breath Aria Dumbledore flashed one last smile at the Professor before taking her leave. "Goodnight, Professor Snape."

Taglist:

@ayamenimthiriel

[recklessrex]

I've talked at length about Sullivan, and I know I still need to flesh out those bullet points, but for now please allow me introduce you to some of my other Cats OCs

I've got quite a few, so to keep this from getting super long, I'll break it down into parts.

Part 1: the "Alleycat Triplets"

(not actual triplets, just always together)

Persimmian

(per-SIM-mee-an) Not "persimmon." Persimmian. An intense, short-tempered alley cat that values looking tough, but mellows somewhat with adulthood.

Doesn't put up with your bullshit

Stubborn, proud, and irritable

Used to be more aggressive and violent than she is now

Has mellowed but is very much not mellow

Resting bitch face

Vigilant and alert

Mind always racing

Excellent tactician, but poor long-term strategist

Lives in the moment

Must do something with hands

Lots of arm-crossing as a result

Intense serious business mode

Enjoys joking and messing around in down time

Sense of humor is mostly dry sarcasm, mockery, and blunt insults

Will laugh at your misfortune, but not at your pain

Loves her two best friends dearly but is too proud to say it out loud

Became the leader of an alleygang in mid-adolescence that was once the Jellicle's closest neighbors

Demi

About Munk's age (used to consider him a rival)

Lean and athletic

Soft medium-length fur

Colorpoint with a little bit of diluted orange in the points, making her technically a calico colorpoint

Deep blue eyes

Floofy tail

Nickname: Persi

Scaramouche

(skahr-ah-MOOSH) Member of Persi's gang and one of her two BBFs.

Also acts tough, but more as a job or for fun

Actually a laid-back goofball

Calm and nonchalant

Believes he's not smart, but has more common sense than Persi or Crash

Sees the bigger picture

Almost impossible to get him down or get under his skin

Forgives easily

Bores easily too

Master of casual snark and playful teasing

Will fight you for fun then offer you a drink

Unshakeably loyal to Persi and fiercely protective of both her and Crash

Bi

Slightly older than Persi

Tall and slender

Short scruffy fur

Solid brown

Scar crossing over left eye from left forehead to upper left lip, causing a slight sneer

Bright yellow-green eyes

Blind in scarred eye, but very good at hiding it, even Persi and Crash sometimes forget.

Sometimes slurs when excited or upset because of his damaged lip

Nickname: Scar, and he's so proud to finally have the scar to go with his name

Crashendo

(kraa-SHEN-doh) Member of Persi's gang and the final member of the alleycat BFF trio.

More openly kind and friendly than his friends

Still very good at posturing and intimidation when the situation calls for it

Acts generally chill and care-free but secretly worries a lot

Fast learner, good memory

Technically the smart one, even if he's not always wise or sensible

Pays attention to the details

Brings the sass

Loves rough housing and acrobatics

Sensitive and empathic

Will gladly listen to your life story

Will also gladly tell you exactly why you suck

Intensely loyal and faithful to Persi and Scar, whom he considers his soulmates

Demi/Bi

A bit younger than Persi and Scar, closer to Tugger's age

Small and sturdy

Short smooth fur

Silver bengal-like markings

Warm golden eyes

Nickname: Crash or Crashie

All three:

Are almost never apart

Might as well be literally chained together because it wouldn't even bother them

Have no patience for idiots, bullies, or people that threaten or hurt the other two

Have called Munk "Tough Guy" since adolescence

No they don't remember which one of them called him that first

Are the first ones that called Alonzo "Patchwork" which eventually got picked up by Macavity's gang

Used to call Tugger "R.T." and still do occasionally

Think Asparagus (Jr) is "a pretty cool dude"

And that the twins are "stealth badasses"

No they don't know what that's supposed to mean

Are a force to be reckoned with in a street fight

Less useful, but still get by, in one on one combat

Will absolutely team up on your ass

Would literally die for each other

Some pics to show what I mean by "calico colorpoint" (not Persi's exact markings):

and "silver bengal-like" (he's not actually a Bengal, just unsure what else to call these markings):

UPDATE: I've added some pics of what Scar kinda looks like. The left pic is his shade of brown and face shape, the right is my best attempt at photoshopping his scar onto a brown cat, though I realized too late I was using the wrong color for the scar, it should be a more pinky greyish kinda tan color if that makes sense...

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

[lifeisdabubbles-undersalmondean]

La Pomme ~ Chapter 12

Pairing: Sam x OC (eventual Dean x OC and Dean x Castiel. And I mean eventual.)

Series summary: George is a casual French-Mistake-universe Supernatural fan living in no-COVID 2020, who's life is upended when she's suddenly launched between realities, two years into the boys' past (S13E22). What begins as an insane, immersive fan experience turns into more when Jack goes missing and George offers up her AU information to help track him down. Soon it's discovered that she and Sam may actually have history. But that's impossible, right?

Word Count: 5,500

Warnings: {smut, fluff, angst, show level violence, swearing, mentions of suicide} ***Detailed warnings will be tagged for specific chapters.

A/N: Following the events of my prequel Paradise and second story From My Eyes Off. Reading those first gives context but isn’t necessary to start this one.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

George was lounging in the warm bath water, trying to use breathing exercises to clear her mind and calm herself. It had been a long day, capping off a long almost-month inside the Supernatural Universe. There were so many questions she couldn't answer and she wished she could turn her brain off; focus on anything else.

"George?" She heard Dean's muffled call from the other side of the bathroom door. "You OK in there?"

"Yea," She answered quietly. "Just humiliated," She added with an eye roll.

"Don't sweat it," Came his unusually sympathetic reply. "We've all been there, or somewhere similar… or somewhere worse," He added off handedly, taking another bite of pie. It occurred to him suddenly that the two of them were alone and Dean had a thought. After a moment's hesitation, he swallowed his bite of pie and called timidly, "George?"

"Yea?" She responded curiously, her voice raised slightly to compensate for the sound barrier. There was such a long pause with no answer that she wondered if it had just been her imagination. As she was about to call out again, she heard him finally.

"Can I ask you something?" Came an inquiry so quiet she almost didn't hear it. He sounded uncharacteristically troubled and… nervous?

"Yea, sure," She answered gently.

"What do you know about Michael?"

"Michael who?" Came her quick, confused reply.

"The archangel? Asshole that's been wearing me as a suit the last few weeks?" She was suddenly reminded of the fact that she was living inside of a TV show and it stunned her into silence. "That Michael? Has he not been on the show or...?" The nervous huff in his reply shook her out of her stupor. She realized this must be a hard topic for him. Unfortunately, though, she didn't have any insight to give.

"Oh fuck, right, Michael," She swallowed and gathered her thoughts before replying with a sigh, "I'm sorry, Dean, I don't really know much. I hadn't started this season yet," She finished apologetically.

"Thanks," Came a sarcastic reply.

She frowned and defended, "Look, I have a life, dude! I get behind, I can't always tune in every Thursday! Trust me, no one is more sorry about that than me right now. Maybe if I had, I could have done something to prevent this insane situation." A heavy sigh dotted the end of her sentence pointedly. Then she had a strange, disconcerting thought:

Would you really have prevented this from happening if you had a choice?

The thought startled her and she guiltily refused to answer herself.

A welcome distraction for her was noticing the silence that followed her answer to Dean; George could tell he was still concerned. Reaching over and grabbing the door handle, she cracked it just enough to spy Dean sitting on the edge of the mattress, holding a take out box. He glanced at her almost imperceptibly and she could tell her eyes weren't exactly welcome, so she turned her head away but left the door open.

"Here's what I've heard/seen on accident," She started, pausing to think and then saying carefully, "He comes back somehow," She heard him bristle but kept going, "And you do something to trap him. Some kind of box… or maybe a walk-in freezer?" She was trying to organize the spoilers she'd seen and identify what was related to Michael and what wasn't. "I know that doesn't make a lot of sense and I'm sorry, but that's all I've got."

Dean sighed and shrugged, "It's alright, George. I'm just… feeling lost. Was hoping for some clues, but it's not on you to save my bacon." George gave a wry smile to the bath water and sat quietly for a moment.

Finally she turned her head to look at him and asked, "You want to know what I do know, Dean?"

Slowly, he turned to look at her with an intrigued eyebrow, "I don't know, do I?"

With an amused eye roll she spoke, "I know this--right now--this story line with alternate Michael? It's two seasons behind where you and your brother end up in my reality. And--at least as far as I remember--this alternate Michael isn't a starring role for very long."

Dean furrowed his eyebrows at her in consideration, "Meaning?"

She shrugged and offered, "Meaning, you figure this out. Like you always do. You will figure this out and you will beat Michael and be onto the next big bad, whomever that is. Which, don't even ask because I really have no idea. Haven't watched those seasons at all yet… I think there's one episode where you meet Scooby Doo?"

Dean smirked and rolled his eyes, telling her matter-of-factly, "We already did that."

"No shit?! That already happened?" When he nodded in confirmation George 'ughed' loudly, rolling her eyes, "Damnit, that must have been one of the ones I just watched. What was it like?! Was Shaggy really high? Was Daphne really hot? Was Scooby just adorable?!"

Dean chuckled and answered, "Uh, yes, hell yes, and duh! It's Scooby Doo! Of course he's adorable!"

"Was it weird to be animated?"

He shrugged a little, "Eh, kin-"

She cut him off with a gasp, "Wait! Was all of you animated, like.. did you have all your-"

He shook his head and proclaimed, "That's none of your business!"

"Sorry!" George apologized defensively, then begged, "Tell me you and Daphne-"

"George!" Dean admonished with feigned offense, "I don't kiss and tell."

She scoffed and guessed, "Struck out, huh?"

Dean frowned and simply said, "Her and Fred are an item. I didn't want to break that up," to which George laughed in disbelief.

"Yea, I got it. I think things are starting to come back to me now," George teased him and he shrugged in defeat, unable to deny the fact that he definitely struck out with Daphne. When her laughter died away, she looked at him again and said, "I'm sorry I can't be more of a help. I know, I know, it's not my job to save you but that doesn't mean I enjoy not being able to." They were quiet again for a minute and she sighed, "If I could just call Ryan."

"Who's he?"

"She is my Winchester Wiki," She explained very matter of factly and Dean stared at her with an annoyed expression. With a smile she continued, "She's my friend and she's also a fan of the show; Got me back into it later in life and, well lets just say, she pays closer attention than I do. She'd be able to help you with this whole Michael problem without breaking a sweat. Oh and she's gorgeous," George tossed on and Dean raised a curious eyebrow. She caught his curious expression and asked, "You don't happen to have a phone with trans-universal long distance coverage by chance?"

Dean snorted and shook his head in bemused defeat, "Not on me." He was frustrated that she didn't have more insight on Michael, though somewhat comforted by the fact that-at least in her reality-he wasn't dead yet. That was something, he guessed.

"So," George smirked at him, glee in her eyes, "American's Next Top Model, hmm?"

"What, are you surprised? A house full of attractive models?" Dean gave her an obvious expression.

She shark-mouthed understandably and nodded, "Fair point. Allison cycle 12? Ooof. Hello!"

Dean considered her assessment for a moment, then nodded agreeably but offered, "Mercedes, cycle 2."

George had to remember who that was for a minute but then nodded emphatically, "Yes! Gorgeous and she was good. She ended up top three, right?"

They compared notes for a few minutes, until he finished the last bite of pie in the container he was holding. Then he whipped out his phone and muttered in her direction, "Finish your bath. I'm gonna text Sam for more towels."

When Sam got the text he snagged a pile from a housekeeping cart on their way back to George's room. They had also stopped by the car and brought up a few bags, per his request. Dean carefully handed George the towels through the bathroom door, so as to not accidentally see any bits, and then turned to Sam for a room update.

"Bad news: no adjoining rooms. The best I could do was five doors down. Even more bad news: only one queen bed." Sam held up the room key with a feigned wince. "But listen, I don't think we should leave George alone, so I'll just crash on the floor in here and you can take the room."

"Wow, what a sacrifice," Dean chuckled knowingly at his brother and snatched the key from him. "Shouldn't we have Cas handle it, though?"

"No, why?" Sam protested a little too fast.

"Because he doesn't need sleep. He can keep an eye on the little deserter. Make sure she doesn't do it again?"

Sam frowned, "She's not going to. And if she does, I think I can handle it. How is she supposed to get any sleep with Cas staring at her all night?"

"I don't stare at people when they sleep," Cas interrupted. With a huff he clarified, "I stare at the wall."

Dean looked at the offended angel and shrugged, "It's not that bad. He's quiet. Honestly, it's kind of comforting when you think about it." There was an awkward pause and Dean added, "Sometimes he'll sing for you if you ask nice-"

"Dean," Castiel admonished him for sharing something so intimate. Cas only did that for him.

Sam looked between the two of their sheepish faces and then assured sarcastically, "Yea, a singing angel staring at the wall in the dark. Totally not creepy."

George came out of the bathroom wrapped in the clean towels from Dean. She was now looking a little sheepish as well, "Hey, sorry about earlier. All of it. I jus-"

"Ah, ah, ah!" Dean held up a hand to her. "Save it for the morning. You can spill your guts over breakfast. We couldn't get adjoining rooms, so Cas and I will be just down the hall; Sam will stay with you tonight. On the floor," He said pointedly with a 'behave' look toward Sam, who rolled his eyes in irritation. George nodded, barely listening, and let out a tired sigh.

Then she had a startling thought and groaned, "Shit. I'm going to have to put those crusty clothes back on."

Dean grinned proudly, "You're not the only one with surprise gifts." He took the bags that Sam and Cas had retrieved from the car and set them down on the wooden table.

"What's this?" She asked, grabbing one of the handles and peeking into the bag where she spotted the Friends logo hoodie she'd picked out at Target. "My clothes? My deodorant?! Oh Dean! Thank you so much! I would kiss you but you have pie like… all over your face, but thank you!" As she dug into the bags to search for the PJs, Dean looked questioningly at Sam and Cas who nodded in confirmation.

"Why didn't you say anything?" Dean grumbled, moving over to the sink to wipe his face. Sam shrugged in feigned innocence, laughing internally at his idiot brother.

"How did you get all the clothes I picked?" She asked, impressed.

"We got lucky; Sam happened to hear one of the employees complaining about a nutty woman who'd run from the store like a bat outta hell and abandoned all her stuff," Dean gave her a pointed stare.

She looked first at Sam, and then Cas and Dean, with immense gratitude, "Thank you, thank you, thank you!" Her spirits had been lifted a little. The fresh underwear alone was going to make her feel a thousand times better.

"They mentioned they'd already put back one or two items when we asked about it, so hopefully we got the right replacements." Sam warned her.

"I don't care! I can apply deodorant and brush my teeth; I'm sure I can put together at least one clean outfit with what's here! So I'm hap-" She suddenly stopped and froze, having discovered a strange item in one of the bags. "Wha?" In one swift motion she pulled out a pale pink lace bodysuit and held it up for them to see. With an annoyed, yet curious expression she looked at Dean and asked, "Someone care to explain this?"

Dean held his hands up in innocence and Sam inspected the garment in confusion.

"It looked nice on the mannequin and the Target associate who helped me pick it out said it was bold, yet feminine. Perfect for the new woman in my life," Castiel happily explained, sounding as though he was reciting someone else's words.

George blushed a bit, looking at Sam and Dean like 'is he for real?', unsure how to respond. Both men shrugged unhelpfully, avoiding eye contact with the item she was still holding, and remained quiet. Cas seemed so proud, she didn't want to ruin it.

Finally, she stuttered out, "Wow. OK, well… thanks. Very thoughtful of you, Castiel…"

"If you wanted to provide me with your exact measurements, the sales associate offered to help me pick out a 'matching bra and panty se'-"

"OK, why don't we quit while we're ahead, eh Buddy?" Dean grabbed up four of the remaining takeout boxes and motioned for Cas to do the same. He then reached for the pink, lacey material in George's hand, jokingly trying to take it from her.

She swatted him with it and held it out of his reach, "Hey! You're the old woman in his life."

He couldn't help but laugh in response, though he shook his head in annoyance, and then headed out the door with the angel in tow, "See you crazy kids in the morning!"

When they left George looked at Sam curiously, "Is it wrong that I kind of want to give Cas 'my measurements' and then watch him try to pick out lingerie?"

Sam smirked in amusement but nodded, "Yes."

"Oh, you're no fun," George chuckled and tossed the teddy back into the bag.

"Perhaps the wrong audience?" He suggested with a chuckle.

"Yea, that's fair," She agreed. While she rifled through the bags and grabbed out some black PJ pants, a light blue, short sleeved t-shirt, and a pair of underwear, Sam watched her quietly. To say he was relieved to find her safe and unharmed was an understatement. He'd also been thrilled by her admission that she liked it here, but, like Cas, he was curious what it meant. And what it could mean for him.

Does she like it enough to stay maybe? He cursed at himself for even thinking it.

"Uh, George?" He finally pushed through the nerves and forced himself to speak.

"Hmm?" She responded curiously, not looking up from her bags just yet.

He tried to adopt a nonchalant, yet comforting tone and asked, "When you were saying earlier that you felt… comfortable here? Like you belong? What did you mean?"

Pausing her rummaging, she glanced over at him, caught off guard by the question. Truthfully, she didn't know if she could answer it. She was quiet for a long time, trying to decide how deep she wanted to get into this.

Finally, she turned to him and said, "Back home I… I've always had this strange, out of place feeling. Major dysphoria my whole life and kinda irritatingly painful too, like... full body restless leg syndrome. I've always imagined it similar to how a trans individual might experience feeling like they were born in the wrong body, ya know?" Sam made a noise of confirmation and she continued, "Except, my body is fine--well, it's not the cause of this problem anyway," they chuckled together.

"It's more… my whole being was wrong somehow, like I didn't belong. Anywhere. I had trouble connecting with people and making friends; even my own family seemed so different from me. I felt like I was on a different wavelength than other people, and not in a snooty, I'm-better-than-anybody way but like a sad, I-have-hardly-any-friends-because-I-can't-relate way, so it sucked. Hard. My family wasn't much help; though they tried to help by testing me for every 'disorder' you could think of. Nada. I was just… inexplicably different and no one could explain why. I could barely explain what I was feeling. They--my parents--were surprisingly relieved when I came out after college. For them, my 'struggle with the fact that I liked boys and girls throughout my childhood' explained everything away so perfectly, that they wrote it off right then and there. But it never had to do with that; my sexuality was nothing I ever struggled with, I just didn't feel like I needed to tell them. And since I'm still queer in this reality..." She trailed off her point, allowing him to fill in the blanks, with a chuckle.

Sam nodded with a sympathetic smile, clearly reading on her face how painful her experience had been. Gently he asked, "And now, being here, i-in this reality, you feel...?"

Her head tilted to the side and, looking at him wide-eyed, she sighed deeply, "Now? God, now, I feel… normal? Or, at least what I can only assume normal people feel like." Suddenly her voice was heavy with deep emotional relief, "I don't know how to explain it… and I don't know why, maybe I don't even care why, but I feel so good for the first time in forever. Emotionally, spiritually, physically... The constant restless buzzing is mercifully just gone. Sometimes I think I feel it again--that terrible, agonizing discomfort--and my heart skips a beat. But then my brain registers that it really is gone and I still feel good! And that feeling is almost better than the best sex I've ever had."

Sam shark-mouthed in surprised appreciation and teased kindly, "So, I guess you did know how to explain it?"

George let out the breath she hadn't realized she was holding with a chuckle and nodded, "Yea, I guess so. Honestly, I'm a little scared to go back," A few tears that had welled up as she was proselytizing spilled down her cheeks uncontrollably and she reached up to wipe them away, blushing lightly.

As George contemplated her admission in the silence, the guilt she felt over leaving them earlier was back. Why the hell did she leave if she'd felt so damn good here? She also felt like a stupid, impulsive child running away from the only people who seemed to care about her, at least insofar as they didn't want her to die. She felt especially guilty that Sam had stuck his neck out for her with Dean and she'd basically stomped on it.

Sam stood awkwardly, watching her with an empathetic grimace. He nearly leapt over to comfort her but… Christ, was this situation complicated. Maybe if things were different, maybe if she wasn't safer in her old reality, maybe if they hadn't handcuffed her to a chair and interrogated her, maybe if she hadn't spent the last few hours crying through an existential crisis, maybe if he wasn't terrified she would push him away in disgust? Maybe if she wasn't practically naked right now... maybe then he wouldn't feel so torn about walking over and wrapping her up into a bear hug.

After a moment of nervously wringing her fingers, George met his eyes and took a deep breath, apologizing, "I'm sorry I ran, Sam. I don't even really know why I-"

"Hey, you don't have to explain anything to me," Sam shook his head definitively, taking a few small steps toward her, now within arms reach. "I understand what you're going through-sort of, and you know, in reverse but still-I get it. Don't worry about it," He reached over and took her hand, squeezing it, "I'm just happy I found you."

At his touch, her heart skipped a beat and she felt her whole body flush, goosebumps forming on her skin. The sincerity in his voice and the look in his eyes nearly made her physically swoon. Was that an admission of something or just a subtextless statement of forgiveness? Staring into his eyes made her feel like she was on the downswing of the world's tallest roller coaster. She had to force herself to break eye contact before she could breathe again. He squeezed her hand once more before slowly letting go and as he did she had a realization.

"Thank you." Mustering up a smile through her butterflies, she clumsily grabbed the clothing she needed. "Anyway, I'm suddenly very, very aware of the fact that I'm naked-oh and have been since the three of you got here," She realized, blushing again. Jesus, I took a bath with Dean Winchester in the next room. Her legs felt like jelly as she tried to remain cool, calm, collect, walking toward the bathroom, "Uh, so, I should probably go put some clothes on, now."

Sam nodded understandingly and said with an earnest expression, "Hopefully not on my account." When George froze mid step and jerked her head towards him, burning red from head to toe, he faltered, "Er-uh-I just meant, you don't need to feel uncomfortable naaak-err-without-I mean you aren't making me uncomfortable while-without… clothes." George was relaxed by his shy, adorable stuttering, although at this point 'shy' surprised her. He'd been just as bold back at the bunker, more than once. He sighed and gave her a meek smile, "Uh, somehow this sounded less creepy in my head."

With a chuckle she put him out of his misery, "Relax, Ravenclaw, I understand. It's not on your account, it's on mine," She assured him, to which he nodded thankfully, a relieved expression on his face. She turned back to the door of the bathroom, pushing it open and stepping in.

When she exited the bathroom again, now fully clothed, the only light in the room was now the small, soft light above the bed. At first, the room seemed empty and George wondered if she'd scared Sam away with all her emotions. She was about to call out for him when she finally noticed a pair of big old feet sticking out from along the side of the bed near the window.

"Sam? What are you doing?" She walked over and found him lying on the ground on top of one solitary blanket.

"Just relaxing." He shrugged boyishly.

"On the floor?"

He clarified, "On my bed."

"Sorry, this tissue paper is supposed to be your bed?" She asked for clarification.

"Standard issue motel comforter. And, yea, it's perfect," He reached down on his side and pulled the right side of the blanket over himself. "See, you just fold the top over and it becomes a mattress and a blanket in one!" He seemed genuinely pleased about his makeshift accommodations, as though he was sharing a trade secret with her.

"Wow," she tried to sound impressed, "clever." She hopped onto the bed above him complimenting a bit sarcastically, "Quite the boy scout, aren't you?"

His head jerked up to look at her. There it was again. Another line direct from his dream falling familiarly from her lips. Hearing the pet name conjured images in his mind of the dream woman saying it. It felt identical.

But, how? That dream wasn't real. It was just Gabriel. George is a different woman, it's just a coin-

"Hey, can I ask you something?" George cut into his internal panicking with a soft voice suddenly.

"Yep?" He tried to seem nonchalant.

"Well… OK, I'm just going to say this because fuck it, I have nothing to lose at this point," She wasn't looking at him but sensed his nervous curiosity right away. Ignoring her own butterflies, she said, "Seems to me that the Sam I met at the bunker would have committed to that earlier 'unintended' innuendo." She raised a sideways brow at him, checking out of the corner of her eye to make sure he understood what she was referencing. When she could tell he did, she finally turned her head to meet his eyes and with a shy smile asked, "So, what gives?"

Sam considered her question for a minute; he wasn't sure where to start. Finally he folded his hands in his lap and shrugged sadly, "Actually, uh-about that, I feel like I owe you an apology."

Oooh, that doesn't sound good, George tried to hide her grimace. Her stomach started twisting in painful knots. What's that you were saying about nothing to lose?

"Por que?" She was trying to stave off a cold sweat.

"For… Well, I guess, how about handcuffing you to a chair and interrogating you for starters? For allowing you to be sexually assaulted by a demon? For letting you risk your life to come with us on this hunt? For hitting on you when you were obviously going through a difficult time? Take your pick."

She let out a breath of surprised relief and smiled curiously, "Oh… well in that case, let me just say: one, your brother was the one who handcuffed me to the chair--and it was understandable. Two, it's not your responsibility to protect me from the likes of Tim. He wasn't the first creep and he won't be the last." He seemed thoroughly unsatisfied by that response, so she tried to lighten it up by continuing, "And three, you didn't let me come on the hunt. Clearly I strong armed you." A tiny snort of amusement emitted from him and she smirked, then added curiously, "And, lastly, just to be clear… you were hitting on me?"

He huffed in humiliation, running his hand over his face, unable to look at her, "God, I feel like a real jackass." A blackhole was growing in the pit of his stomach. "Your world was literally turned upside down and you needed help not--not some weird, bunker dwelling asshole making advances."

"Uh, Sam," At first George laughed; the absurdity of the hottest man on television apologizing for hitting on her struck her funny bone. However, when it registered just how sober the tone of his voice was, the reality of the situation hit her again like a ton of bricks. She realized that part of her was still anticipating Jared to break at some point and reveal all of this had been an elaborate set up. It hadn't occurred to her yet that, for Sam, this was all real. His sincerity touched her.

She swallowed down the rest of her laughter, along with her typical smartass response, and smiled kindly, "Thank you for the apology and I appreciate the thought, I really do, but it's not necessary. You had no idea, considering I lied to you--which I'm also sorry about if I haven't already said that." That last part came out quickly upon realizing she might not have apologized yet. He gave her a kind smile and waved her off gently, so she continued, "So, please don't feel guilty. And I'll let you know if your advances are ever unwanted. Promise."

The deja vu hit him again so hard it knocked the wind out of him. His eyes snapped up to meet hers from his spot on the floor. A blush creeped across her cheeks as he stared curiously. She was back on the roller coaster, butterflies tumbling in her gut, but forced herself to keep eye contact, allowing him to conduct his search. She wasn't sure what he was so determinedly looking for but she hoped he was finding it.

A mix of emotions wrestled within him at the moment. Though he knew logically it made no sense, he was having a harder and harder time denying that he knew this woman, intimately--in every sense of the word. But, how?! And, holy shit, was she saying what he hoped she was saying? He could feel his hopes skyrocketing while he struggled to hold them down in self-preservation.

A huge yawn broke out on her face, ruining the moment and snapping Sam out of his stupor.

"Whoa, Jesus," She laughed a bit, surprised by the force of the yawn.

"Time for bed?" Sam tried to mask his disappointment at the disruption. She nodded agreeably.

"Listen, could you at least take a pillow, please? One pillow? For me?" Pulling the sheets back, so she could climb in, she yanked a pillow out and tossed it over the edge of the bed. She heard it land with an audible POOMPF right on his face. "Oops," she said with a snicker, reaching over to turn off the lamp on the table while he adjusted the pillow behind his head.

Sliding up under the covers, she settled down on her back. The deafening silence in the room allowed her mind to wander freely while she stared up at the ceiling. After a moment she rolled onto her side and peeked over the edge of the bed, surprised to find Sam's beautiful hazel eyes staring intensely back at her in the dark.

She whispered, "Sam?"

"Yeah?" Came a soft, low rumble, as he continued to stare back.

"How did you find me?" She wondered.

"Uh…" He turned away from her quickly and shifted nervously. He felt compelled to be honest with her; luckily the shroud of darkness made him bolder than he would have been in the harsh light of day. "We tracked you through the cab company mostly. Lost your trail at the diner and then… I'm not really sure. We were driving around and when I saw the sign for the motel I… uh, just had a strong feeling that you were here?"

"...uh huh." His answer surprised her. So much so, that she had to break eye contact and lay back down. She stared at the ceiling in shock.

What did that mean?

Though even as she asked herself the question, she had a feeling that she already knew. It was a feeling that didn't exactly put her at ease; raising more questions than it answered. She mulled it over for a few moments, before deciding she was too tired to pull at that thread.

She finally shrugged a little and said, "Good instincts?"

"Yeah… that must be it," He trailed off, having a nearly identical conversation with himself, and they fell silent again.

"Sam?" She said, choking back a nervous laughter. When she heard him respond with a curious grunt she hesitated. Finally, she blurted in a quiet, definitive whisper, "Samgirl. No question." When she could hear the smile behind another, practically silent--as though he was trying to hide it--grunt of confirmation she smiled wide, adding quickly, "And just so you know, that is the first and last time you will ever hear me utter that silly term of my own volition."

"Understood," He murmured in a teasingly serious tone, making her laugh quietly.

With another big yawn, she forced herself to stop engaging. Before rolling over, she tossed over her shoulder, "And don't tell Dean. He'll be devastated and we have a job to do." The sound of his joyful chuckling was the last thing she heard before sleep overtook her.