#and POTENTIALLY a chance for them to be on the same page once more to do good for others? like their thesis allowed them to do | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

glimmeringwinchester · 2 months ago

Text

𝗛𝗢𝗠𝗘

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 — grace winchester never had the chance to know her mother, but twenty years later, she finds herself in her childhood home facing something evil that apparently isn't alone

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆(𝐒) — canon typical violence, panic attacks, injury, brief description of blood, ptsd, anxiety, protective dean and sam, oc au

series: love was the law

Grace Winchester sits across from her brother at a small table beside a large window that overlooks the parking lot. Her laptop is open, pulled up onto a recent newspaper article from somewhere in Texas. She and Dean have been here for almost an hour, scouring every website they could think of to find a case to work, both of them itching to get up and moving again. They’ve never known how to be still, how to just take life as it comes instead of searching for danger, and they certainly have no interest in learning how to do that now.

“All right. I’ve been cruising some websites. Think I found a candidate for our next gig.” Dean takes a sip of his coffee, already dressed for the day ahead of them, meanwhile Sam’s still tucked into one of the beds. Grace cranes her head to see him, smiling softly when she realizes that he must’ve just woken up, a soft flush against his cheeks insinuating that not long ago he’d been practically dead to the world tangled up in thick blankets. She’s glad that he’s seemingly able to rest without nightmares of Jessica plaguing his subconscious, but something tells her his sleep wasn’t all that terrific even without the visual of his girlfriend's burning body. “A fishing trawler found off the coast of Cali. Its crew vanished.”

“I’ve got some cattle mutilations in West Texas.” Grace hummed, looking over at Dean once she knew he didn’t have anymore more to add about the potential case in California.

“Hey!” Dean called out, startling Grace who had looked away for only a second to dive back into the article she had pulled open, searching for the single line in the middle that was what led her to believe it was their kind of case to begin with. Her wide eyes found Dean’s, assuming she was the one he was raising his voice at, but she very quickly realized he was talking to Sam, who sat upright in the bed sketching frantically on a notepad. “Are we boring you with this hunting-evil stuff?”

“No, I’m listening. Keep going.” Sam shook his head, glancing away from the notepad for only a second to prove that he was listening to Grace and Dean. The youngest Winchester rolled her eyes, reaching for her mug of hot chocolate that Dean had somehow lifted from the diner. She didn’t want to question why he’d chose to bring back two mugs instead of the take-away cups that made their lives easier, but she was more than willing to pretend like she was in some lavish hotel as she held the porcelain mug to her lips and obnoxiously slurped up what remained of her melted whipped cream.

Dean rolled his eyes at her, but he couldn’t help but shake his head laughing when she pulled the mug away and was left with a mustache of cream on her upper lip. She wiggled her eyebrows at him jestingly before she licked it away, focusing her attention back on the article in front of her.

“And here a Sacramento man shot himself in the head..three times…” Dean held up three fingers, waving them around as if hoping to catch Sam’s attention, but his efforts were in vain. Their brother was fully engrossed in his own world, flipping through pages of the notepad despite it seeming that he was drawing the same thing over and over again. Grace frowned in contemplation, wondering what had him so tightly wound, but Dean was less concerned for Sam’s wellbeing and more aggravated that everything he was saying was going in one ear and out of the other. “Any of these things blowing up your skirt, pal?”

Grace rolled her eyes, and if she hadn’t been sitting criss-cross applesauce on the chair, she would’ve jutted her leg out to kick his shin. She expected Sam to have a sharp response, but he remained silent, proving that he wasn’t really listening to them at all. Grace deflated, wondering what was so important that he was entirely neglecting the main focus of their entire lives, but then his eyebrows furrowed, and he grabbed a page of the notebook he’d already flipped away from, bringing it back down into view.

“Wait, I’ve seen this.” Sam commented, his eyes narrowing in scrutiny as he tried to analyze the sketch he’d drawn still half-asleep. Grace craned her head questioningly, taking another sip of her hot chocolate despite how warm it made her feel. She shrugged her sweatshirt off, being left in only a yellow tank top that brought out the yellow in her green eyes.

“Seen what?” Dean questioned, taking the bait that Sam dangled in front of their faces even if that wasn’t the intended purpose of his muttering.

Sam didn’t answer him, nor did he even glance in Dean’s direction. The eldest and youngest Winchester locked eyes, both frowning in concern as they watched Sam stand from the bed and approach their bags on the other side of the room. “What are you doing, Sammy?” She questioned softly, closing her laptop to instead focus solely on her brother who was acting more than a little strange.

He pulled John’s journal out of Dean’s duffle bag without a word, leaving both Dean and Grace in the dark as he flipped through pages until he found an old photograph tucked behind disheveled notes and coordinates. Grace knew the picture well. It was one of the only ones that had been salvaged in the fire – or at least one of the only ones she’d ever seen – and it was something that felt so foreign to look at knowing what she did now. She was being held up in John’s arms, a gummy smile on her lips as she looked straight ahead at the camera. Sam was in John’s other arm, and Mary held Dean close to them, all five of them looking like any typical and normal family outside of the house that Grace had never really known as their own. She frowned in confusion, not seeing why that picture was so important to Sam at this moment, but she didn’t outright question it, content to let him put pieces on the table at his own pace.

“Dean, I know where we have to go next.” Sam looked up, his eyes searching Dean’s face with intent. Grace frowned, wondering what had him so rattled that he seemed to be reeling at the connection. She put her hot chocolate down, becoming uneasy as the energy in the room shifted to something heavier than it had been in a while.

Dean inclined his head, nodding for Sam to continue. “Where?”

“Back home. Back to Kansas.” Grace’s frown deepened at that, her eyes flickering to Dean to gauge his individual reaction. She was unsurprised to find that he’d recoiled in the same surprised manor, his eyebrows raised in silent question.

“Okay, random. Where’d that come from?” He threw back at Sam, who seemed to fumble over his thoughts trying to find a way to explain what had led him to this conclusion.

Grace watched Sam step closer, his eyes flickering to her for only a second before he turned to address Dean entirely. Grace was no help in the matter, no matter how much easier it was to convince her than it was to convince Dean. “All right, um, this photo was taken in front of our old house, right? The house where Mom died?

“Yeah.” Dean grabbed the picture from his outstretched hands, studying it carefully despite having almost every aspect of the print memorized. Grace leaned back in her chair, fingering pulling through her knotted locks that trapped heat at the back of her neck.

“And it didn’t burn down completely. They rebuilt it, right?” Sam asked, voice thick with contemplation that Dean and Grace still didn’t know anything about. He was making no sense, but they’d been abused by weirder conversations.

“I guess so, yeah. What the hell are you talking about?” Kansas was always a sensitive topic for Dean, not that he would ever admit that, but his siblings had learned to sparingly bring up Mary and the house he’d spent the first six years of his life within after one to many explosive conversations. They all had a hard time discussing the events that had led up to where they currently found themselves in life, but it was different for Dean because he could remember what it was like to only worry about monsters in a hypothetical sense. He remembers what it was like to come home from school, have an afternoon snack at the table and work on homework. He remembers what life was supposed to be for them and even if he doesn’t mind the hunter life, there’s still a little boy inside of him that yearns for what he hadn’t even had a chance to appreciate having at all.

“Okay look, this is gonna sound crazy but the people who live in our old house, I think they might be in danger.” Sam sank into the chair next to Grace at the table, his eyes flickering to hers as he silently pleaded with her to blindly trust him on this. It never took much for Grace to do that, to put all of her trust into her brothers, but she still found herself frowning in concern as she glanced at Dean.

“Why would you think that?” She asked hesitantly, soft eyes glancing back at her brother when it became evident that Dean wasn’t going to be the one to speak up and dig further. His eyes were glued to the picture, like he was trying to memorize every detail of Mary’s face. Grace’s heart thumped in her chest, wishing desperately that she could remember her mother in even the smallest capacity. She couldn’t. She’d never been able to.

“Um– Just, uh– Look, just– you got to trust me on this, okay?” Sam was frantic, scrambling for anything that would turn Dean in his favor, but he didn’t say anything else, anything more. He had given them crumbs and expected them to make an entire dessert. Grace could only frown deeper, rubbing at her head as the good mood she’d woken up in began to ebb away.

Sam stood from the table, moving toward the bags they had stacked up on top of a dresser in the far corner. Grace and Dean shared a concerned glance before the latter was rising from his spot at the table, the picture still in his grip as he addressed Sam. “Okay woah, woah, woah. Trust you?”

“Yeah.” Sam nodded, breathless. Whatever had led him down this path had clearly shaken him, and he moved with an anxiousness that Grace hadn’t seen since he’d packed his bags for Stanford nearly three years ago. She’d been only seventeen years old, not quite prepared to lose one of her brothers, and despite how much she’d grown into herself since then, she feels that same unavoidable unease creeping up her spine as she watches Sam pack.

“Come on man, that’s weak. You got to give me a little bit more than that.” Dean argued, standing between Sam and the door almost instinctively. He’d let him walk out the first time, there was no way in hell it was happening again when there was even less to go off of now then there was when he’d decided to follow his dream of being a lawyer. At the very least, that was practical. This was just insane.

“I can’t really explain it is all.” Sam fired back, glancing up from his duffle bag for a second before his gaze snapped back down to what he was doing and he continued shoving clothes and weapons inside.

Grace didn’t move from the table near the windows, but her soft voice cut through the room sharply. She’d never been the type to ask first shoot later, not when it was her brothers calling the shots at least, but something about Sam’s sudden interest in Kansas had her uneasy; like there was something far bigger going on just beneath her nose.“Sammy, you’ve gotta give us at least something to go off of.”

“Well, tough. I’m not going anywhere until you do.” Dean came back at him, both of them ignoring Grace who’d been trying to take a more level-headed approach. She rolled her eyes, wondering if they’d ever be able to settle a disagreement without raising their voices.

For once, Sam wasn’t quick to jump on Dean, sighing beneath his breath as he strained out his posture and faced the both of them fully. “I have these nightmares.” Fell off of his lips, but there was more still forming on his tongue that Grace expected to be the main reason for his sudden interest in revisiting Lawrence.

“I’ve noticed.” Dean nodded, though his exasperation was poorly hidden beneath his clipped tone and exaggerated hand movements. He’d been exceptionally bad at heart-to-heart moments lately, but the rekindling of old wounds had only given him a sharper edge. Grace didn’t bristle so easily, keeping ehr gaze unassuming and soft and she nodded for Sam to continue, taking a sip of her hot chocolate despite the fact that it was cooling down to a gross temperatur and she didn’t really want any more of it at all. Still she took a sip, feeling like she needed something to be doing with her hands as she waited for Sam to drop whatever bomb he’d been hiding on them.

“And sometimes they come true.” That was not at all what either Grace or Dean expected to hear, and the book-end Winchesters had near identical reactions as they flinched away from the spoken truth, their dark eyebrows raising in confusion amidst other conflicting emotions that swirled at the forefront of their minds.

“Come again?” Dean questioned, hoping that he’d heard Sam wrong, or at the very least had interpreted what he’d said wrong, but deep down he knew that wasn’t the case, knew he’d heard Sam correctly.

Sam sighed, his eyes locking on Grace’s before he built up the courage to look back at Dean. Somehow, their sister was their safe person, and no matter the conflict, they looked to her for support not having to question if she’d give it. Grace managed a weak smile, nodding softly for Sam to continue. “Look, I dreamt about Jessica’s death for days before it happened.”

“Some people have weird dreams, man. I’m sure it’s just a coincidence.” Dean shook his head, desperately wanting to convince Sam that what he thought to be true was just odd timing. Grace wasn’t so sure that he wanted to convince Sam of that for his benefit, or for his own personal sake. Dean had a good grip on his external emotions, but she was sure that this was freaking him out because it was freaking her out; not that it took much to rattle her. She’d always been the jumpiest of the three.

Sam shook his head, his voice wavering the more he spoke about these nightmares and their direct correlation to events in his life. He looked so far from the strong, confident man that Grace had come to know since running away to Stanford. They’d both found themselves there, had created lives that had nothing to do with monsters and hunting, but the more time they spent away from the normalcy of campus life, the more they were losing themselves to the shadows of who they’d always been before that. She didn’t like it, but there was only so much they could do to change the inevitable. “No. I dreamt about the blood dripping, her on the ceiling, the fire, and I didn’t do anything about it ‘cause I didn’t believe it. Now I’m dreaming about that tree, our house, and some woman inside screaming for help. I mean, that’s where it all started. This has to mean something.”

“I don’t know.” Dean admitted weakly, sinking into the bed as he looked down at the picture in his hands again, trying hard to wrap his head around what Sam had just laid out in the open. Sure, they’d been the one to push him to open up, but neither one of them could have anticipated this being what had him so rattled and set on returning back to Kansas.

Grace locked eyes with Sam for a second, still sat beside the window despite every nerve in her body telling her to run as far away from all of this as she could. “Even if you have these dreams, Jessica’s death isn’t on you, Sammy. It’s not your fault.” She offered weakly, and for a minute Sam’s eyes flickered with something softer, but then they hardened again and he returned his gaze to Dean.

“What do you mean you don’t know, Dean? This woman might be in danger. I mean, this might even be the thing that killed Mom and Jessica.” His voice raised, still trembling, still vulnerable, but there was a weight beneath his words that only drove his desperation further into the thick air of the motel room.

Dean grumbled at his younger brother's persistence, standing from where he was perched on the bed to instead pace the carpeted floors. “All right, slow down, would you?” Dean didn’t beg, but he was pretty damn close to sounding like he was as he tried to get his thoughts and the facts in order. They knew monsters existed, they’d known that for decades. They had friends and connections that were psychics, so what was to say that Sam didn’t fall into that same mysterious category. There was little to deny the possibility, but accepting the truth felt heavy, like it would change the basis of everything they’d ever known and fought for. “I mean, first you’re telling me that you’ve got The Shining…and then you tell me that I've got to go back home, especially when…” Grace looks down at her hands, squeezing her fingers into tight fists when they begin to tremble without her consent. Her chest is tightening, she’s aware of it, but she needs to keep herself together. Sam looks to be on the verge of tears, and Dean isn’t faring much better. She can’t be the one to break down, not when they need somebody to be strong, but she can’t say that this isn’t a lot for her too. Seh remembers the years when all she’d ever wanted was to know about Mary. She’d ask John about her every little detail, even when those questions got her locked in motel closets and kicked out of diners; made to wait on the curb outside until the boys were finished eating. Going to Kansas had been something she’d wanted desperately at one point in her life, but now she’s not so sure she can face what should’ve been her life. It’s not fair that she has to.

“When what?” Sam pleads with Dean, his voice soft and breathy. His eyes are wide, desperate and vulnerable as he lays everything he has left within him out on the table for his siblings to scrutinize and unpack at their own will.

“When I swore to myself that I would never go back there.” Dean’s voice wavers, and Grace can see the tears pooling in his eyes as he turns his back to Sam, facing the windows before his chin sinks to his chest and he draws in a shaky breath.

“Look, Dean, we have to check this out. Just to make sure.” Sam pleads, his eyes flickering to Grace, but he doesn’t need to look at her to know that she’s with him wherever life leads. She’d follow her brothers to the ends of the earth, because they were the only people that had ever been there for her through the thick and thin of life and its hardships.

Dean takes a second, but eventually his head nods just slightly, and he peers over his shoulder to find Sam’s eyes. His jaw is clenched, his eyebrows are furrowed, but there's determination in his features that both of his siblings can read. “I know we do.” He says, and that’s all it takes for Grace to stand from the table in the corner of the room, knowing that within the hour they’d be off and on the road toward a place she hadn’t been since she was six months old.

The car is quiet, filled with adrenaline and grief. Dean’s mood hangs heavy, and Sam’s isn’t much better. They’d said little about where they were headed since bags had been packed and the keys had been pressed into the ignition, but as they pass another sign on the side of the roads where overgrown crops and bushes thrive with the turn of Springtime weather, the atmosphere shifts to something different; something that Grace can’t quite interpret. She feels a small smile tug at her lips as she reads the words ‘Welcome to Lawrence’ , unable to deny that there's a small part of her that feels healed just being in this town. Her mother had lived here. Mary Winchester had lived within these town lines, and that meant something to the youngest Winchester even if it was just another fact to her older brothers.

“This isn’t what I expected.” Grace hums quietly, unable to take the silence any longer. She knows this is hard for both Sam and Dean, it’s hard for her, but there’s something inside of her that feels like it's been reawakened now that she’s physically seeing the streets that her mother had walked on a daily basis. Had Mary envisioned walking her down these same streets? Had she thought that at one point, she’d sign Grace up for dance class at the ballet studio they passed right beside a small pharmacy? There were endless possibilities that would never have answers, but Grace still held onto the hope of inquiring anyways. It was all she had, and so it had to mean something.

“What did you expect?” Sam asks with a light laugh, craning his head to look into the backseat and see her fully. Her body is pressed up against the driver's side door, her eyes wide and breathtakingly bright as she takes in all of the different houses and shops along the roads. For the first time in hours, his lips curve into a soft smile, and what awaits doesn’t feel so heavy anymore.

“I don’t know… cows, maybe? I’d always thought that there was a farm.” She hummed thoughtfully, only just realizing how stereotypically normal Lawrence, Kansas is. Grace had always thought that there would be something unordinary in the town, something that set it apart from every other midwest suburb. She didn’t know why, she’d never know what, but that assumption had made it easier to swallow the trajectory of her childhood and adolescence when she was able to grab onto it. Now, after figuring out that the only abnormal thing had been them, her family, well, her heart fell further down into her belly, something twisting up within her that she couldn’t place, but it didn’t fully dim the sparkle that twinkled beneath her green eyes.

“Sorry to disappoint, Gracie.” Sam laughed, reaching into the backseat to pat her knee affectionately. Even if her eyes were bright with wonder, he could still recognize the traces of pain and grief etched across her expression; he could still see how hard this was for her beneath the mask of enjoyment she’d crafted near perfectly.

As Dean slowed the car until it came to a near complete stop in front of a two-story house that was painted a welcoming shade of baby blue, her eyes narrowed with scrutiny. There was no mistaking it as their own. The tree in the front yard, though it had aged and changed with passing time, remained almost entirely the same as it had appeared in the picture John kept in the first few pages of his journal. The surrounding area had changed since 1985 when the picture had been snapped, but it wasn’t hard to establish that this is the place they were meant to be in. She was antsy to step out of the car, to firmly plant her feet on the ground where her mother had walked. She’d spent twenty years desperately longing for a maternal figure, and while there wasn’t a way to bring Mary back, this was still the closest that Grace had ever gotten to knowing who she had been at all.

“You gonna be alright, man?” Sam braved the question that Grace didn’t have the courage to say as Dean pulled the keys out of the ignition, his eyes focused on the house he’d spent the first six years of his life in. This was hard for Grace because she’d never gotten the chance to actually know this house or her mother, but Dean fell on the complete opposite end of the spectrum. She couldn’t imagine being him in this moment.

A beat of silence elapsed as Dean kept his eyes on the house, a million memories playing in his head, but eventually he trailed his gaze to Sam, a soft, nearly inaudible sound, falling off of his lips. “Let me get back to you on that.” He requested, and both of his younger siblings nodded curtly. They could do that, they could give him the time to figure out how he was feeling before talking about it.

Grace waited for Dean to step out of the car first, but when it became obvious that he wasn’t going to be the one to make a move, Sam opened his door, nodding for Grace to follow him even if Dean remained in the car. He didn’t. The second Grace had her feet on the ground, he was stepping out onto the road, breathing in through his nose before he exhaled through his mouth attempting to sike himself up for whatever faced them.

Grace shuffled toward her eldest brother somewhat desperately, wrapping an arm around his waist as she stole an awkward hug. Her soft green eyes flickered up to meet his after a moment of contemplation, and even though his lips were set into a thin expression of neutrality, he didn’t pull away from the embrace. Sam was steps ahead of them both, hardly even aware that they’d stopped at all, but Grace didn’t mind the separation between them, desperately needing this quiet minute with Dean to have any chance at finding the strength she needed to get through this, even if it didn’t turn out to be their kind of gig. His arm fell around her shoulders, pulling her tighter into his side when he finally pulled himself out of the trance-like state he’d been in before.

“You gonna be okay, sweetheart?” He asked quietly, keeping his hushed voice away from Sam who still hadn’t realized he walked alone toward the front door.

Grace nodded, her head resting on Dean’s shoulder as she craned her neck to meet his worried eyes. She forced a slight smile, downplaying the torrential downpour of emotions that were muddying her clarity. Regardless, she gave him an answer. “This is what I’ve always wanted, isn’t it?”

Dean sighed when Grace pulled away from his touch before he could tell her that she didn’t have to be strong just because she’d always wanted to come back here. He followed after her silently, joining Sam on the front porch, though he stuck close to Grace’s side, able to see through her near-perfectly curated mask of indifference. He promised himself that for her sake, he could see this case out.

The door creaked open seconds later, and all three Winchesters stared at the woman in front of them for a second too long for it to be a normal exchange before Dean was slipping into his chosen role; not that they’d discussed what alibi they’d be giving this woman to keep their tracks clean. “Sorry to bother you, ma’am, but we’re with the Federal–” He began, but was quickly interrupted by Grace, who couldn’t lie in the face of honest truth. There was truth here, and fragile honesty, and she didn’t want to be some variant of herself that was fake and sleazy. Mary wouldn’t want that for her, for any of them, even if she’d never really known the woman, somehow Grace was sure of that fact.

“I’m Grace Winchester, and these are my brothers Sam and Dean. We used to live here. Or, they did. I was a baby. But, I mean, I guess I lived here too. Um,” Grace fumbled over her words nervously, pulling at her knuckles as she tried to keep her eyes from peering behind the woman and inside of the house. Did it look the same? Had they kept the same layout? The same wallpapers and tile? She wouldn’t know, but the questions still came to her anyway. “We were just driving by, and we were wondering if we could see the old place.”

Grace couldn’t stand to look at her brothers, so she kept her eyes on the woman in front of her, who smiled fondly at her rambling with a tilted head. This woman was a mother, Grace knew that the second she’d started rambling and all she’d received was a fond smile of encouragement. “That is so funny.” The woman noted, opening the door wider, giving all three of the siblings a deeper glance inside the house. “I think I found some of your things the other night. A stuffed bear and some photos. You said your name was Grace, right?”

“Yes ma’am.” Grace nodded, her eyes tearful as she tried to keep herself together, but the longer she spent outside of the house that had been the only physical home she’d ever known, the harder it got to keep her emotions underwraps. Even if this turned out to be one of their gigs, it wasn’t just any other hunt. She couldn’t lie to herself and say that it was.

“Come on in.” The woman smiled after a brief pause, and the invitation was all that Sam needed. He stepped over the threshold without hesitation, but Grace and Dean lingered outside. After nearly twenty years, they were back home, back at the place that had simultaneously started their lives and derailed them.

Grace flinched when Dean laid a firm hand between her shoulder blades, but stepped over the threshold with a shaky breath. Dean closed the door behind them, his eyes sweeping across every piece of decor he could find, searching for something that Grace didn’t know about. Evidently, he came up empty, because as quickly as hope had filled his eyes, it vanished. They followed the woman into the kitchen where a little boy was kept occupied in a playpen, but he didn’t seem all that interested in the toys scattered around his feet, instead, he held onto the wooden bars, bouncing on his toes and demanding juice.

“That’s Richie. He’s kind of a juice junkie but, hey, at least he won’t get scurvy.” The woman laughed as she unlocked the refrigerator and reached for a sippy cup of what Grace could only assume was apple juice. She smiled fondly as the blonde crossed the floor and held out the cup for her son, ruffling his chestnut brown hair before she turned her attention back on the siblings.

A young girl, no older than ten-years-old, sat at the counter filling out a sheet of homework. She wore a collared shirt beneath a sweater, her hair brushed and pulled neatly into a half-up half-down style. Grace wondered if her mother had done that. If she’d taken the time out of her morning to dress her kids in expensive clothes and style their hair to perfection. John had never done that for her. The earliest memory she has of having her hair brushed was by Dean’s hands, and he’d been less than gentle as he tugged out the knots and kept her still between his knees, stressed beyond belief as she wailed and squirmed away from the pain. Their lives had never been fair, but Grace was beyond glad that at least Sari’s seemed to be. “Sari, this is Sam, Dean, and Grace. They used to live here.”

“Hi, Sari.” Grace greeted the girl softly, her smile warm and inviting like it always was when she didn’t have a role to slip into. It was weird, being on a case but having no cover story, though she wouldn’t say she minded the freedom to just be herself.

“So, you just moved in?” Dean questioned, his eyes sweeping across the kitchen before they found the woman. Grace wasn’t sure if she’d even told them her name yet, but she couldn’t find the strength to ask as emotions piled up in her throat.

“Uh, yeah, from Wichita.”

“You got family here?” The question was innocent enough, but the woman still bristled as it fell into the air and smothered her beneath its weight.

“No, I just, uh… um, needed a fresh start. That’s all.” She explains through thick emotions that she's obviously trying to keep away from her children. When Sari looks up, she forces a smile, breaking off into a different approach to explain how they found themselves in Lawrence. “So new town, now job – I mean, as soon as I find one– new house.”

“So, how are you liking it so far?” Sam asks quietly when she turns to the sink, and her head snaps back to glance at them as she finds an answer to the question on her tongue.

“Well, uh, all due respect to your childhood home – I mean, I’m sure you have lots of happy memories here – but this place has its issues.” Grace bristles at the mention of happy memories. She’s honestly not sure that she has any at all – in this house or anywhere else that she’s lived –, and the realization that even some of the ‘best’ moments of her life were still twinged with worry and pain has her glancing down at her feet, tears pricking her eyes.

“What do you mean?” Sam questions again, his eyebrows furrowed as he runs through a mental list of any abnormalities he can think of that relate to their unique specialty. Grace doesn’t even bother trying to play the role of a hunter in this moment, taking the time to just be a twenty-year-old kid with no real connection to anything real in life outside of her brothers.

“Well, it’s just getting old, like, the wiring, you know? We’ve got flickering lights almost hourly.” She can feel Dean stiffen at her side, and instinctively her hand reaches for his. She wants to berate herself for being so quick to an emotional response, but for once she just lets herself be, not having the energy to wage a war against her instincts when her heart is hammering in her chest to the point where she’s almost certain the insides of her ribs will bare bruises in the aftermath of this encounter.

“Well that’s too bad. What else?” Dean, ever the stoic individual allergic to showing vulnerable emotions in the presence of others, lets her hold onto him, and softly he squeezes her hand between his fingers, reminding her that despite what they face and what stains their pasts, he’s here with her in this current moment.

“Um… sink’s backed up. There’s rats in the basement.” She prattles on, but when Dean’s lips purse, she looks away bashfully; almost apologetically. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to complain.”

“No.” Dean’s quick to brush off her apology, smiling brightly despite the pain that clutches his heart in an iron grip and refuses to loosen. “Have you seen the rats or just heard the scratching?”

There’s a flicker of contemplation on her face before it clears, and she inclines her head just slightly to the left as she trails her gaze up to meet Dean’s eyes.“Just the scratching, actually.”

Dean’s eyes flicker to the floor in a moment of realization – both that there was something here, and Sam was right to be frantic about the sudden happenings in his subconscious – but before her can question anything further, Sari was craning to face her mother somewhat bashfully. “Mom?” Her voice was incredibly thin, and Grace didn’t miss the way her shoulders sank beneath the weight of something.

The woman – who Grace has still not retained the name of – approaches her daughter quickly, abandoning the dish rag on the edge of the countertop to address her eldest child. She bends down to meet Sari’s level, and immediately the little girl's voice slips out timidly,“Ask them if it was here when they lived here.”

For a moment, the mother looked panicked, but there was evident concern etched across her brow as she knew immediately what her daughter was so worried about. Before she had the chance to reassure Sari, or at least try to get the Winceshers to silently pick up on the need for reassurance, Sam was inclining his head encouragingly. “What thing, Sari?” He coached.

“The thing in my closet.” Sari’s eyes flicker downward almost immediately, and she doesn’t look up until her mother crouches beside her again, shaking her head in unabashed concern; somethin John Winchester had never shown his children. Grace’s heart clenches with longing as she watches the encounter unfold. Even if John hadn’t been the way he was when she was growing up, she doesn’t think she ever would’ve had this. Dean and Sam; Grace thinks that they would’ve, at least in some manly ‘bro-code’ way. She doesn’t harp on what she’ll never know for long, because Sari’s defiance against the reassurance Sam tried to give was all too familiar. “I wasn’t dreaming. It came into my bedroom, and it was on fire.” Sari defends, and the hairs on the back of Grace’s neck rise.

With the confirmation that something was definitely happening inside of the house, the Winchesters quickly excused themselves. Grace stepped out of the house ahead of her brothers, letting out a sigh of relief that she hadn’t even realized was blooming within her chest until she was no longer surrounded by what might’ve been relics of her past, but also could’ve been new things.

“You hear that? A figure on fire!” Sam exclaims as he stomped down the stairs with passionate intent, his head craned in Dean’s direction as Grace remained steps ahead of them, needing to be in the car and surrounded by comfortable familiarity for at least a handful of minutes.

“And Jenny was the woman in your dreams?” Dean double-checks, wanting to be sure that this hadn’t all been some odd one-off coincidence, not that he could really argue that case anymore, but desperately he tried to find grounds to believe it, not wanting to admit that their lives and their already askew definition of normal was becoming even more abnormal and eerie by the hour.

“Yeah, and you hear what she was talking about – scratching, flickering light? Both signs of a malevolent spirit.” Sam doubled-down, and Grace could only sigh, continuing to listen to her brothers back and forth without contributing anything herself.

“I’m just freaked out your weirdo visions are coming true.” Dean snapped, his jaw set tight as he picked up his pace, rushing toward the Impala with a desperate urge to just get the hell out of dodge and let what was apparently prophesied to happen, happen. He hated that he thought that at all, always the first one to defend the line of work they found themselves tangled into, but even he was beginning to feel indifferent about the case that brought them right back to where the worst night of their lives had occurred.

Sam wasn’t as rattled as his siblings, and with fiery passion, he scoffed. “Forget about that – the thing in the house, do you think it’s the thing that killed Mom and Jessica?”

“I don’t know!” Dean raised his voice, clearly frazzled from how many times Mary’s death had been dragged into conversation, but Sam still didn’t relent, if anything, his voice got more strained than it had been as he held his hands out at his sides.

“I mean, has it come back or has it been there the whole time?”

“Or maybe it's something else entirely Sam. We don’t know yet!” Dean argued, for once coming across as the logical one of the two as Sam was fueled by raw emotion and terror, just not the same bone shattering emotion that his siblings felt. He was worried, panicked, sure, but Grace and Dean were terrified, and submerged in grief that had spanned across twenty years.

“Those people are in danger Dean, we have to get them out of that house.” Sam threw back at his brother.

“And we will.” Dean assured, hoping that would be enough to sway Sam from doing anything irrational before they had all of the facts in line and a game plan, but all it did was spur him on more.

“No, I mean now.” The middle Winchester demanded, and had they still been inside the house, Grace knows his voice would’ve bounced off the walls with how loud it was. She couldn’t help but flinch away from the conflict, shrinking into herself as she watched her brothers squabble like children.

“And how are you gonna do that? You got a story she’s gonna believe?” Dean threw his hands out in exasperation, his voice rising to match Sam’s.

“Then what are we supposed to do?” Sam snapped, but there was evident worry shining through that hadn’t been so obvious before. He hadn’t done everything he could’ve to save Jessica, but now he had a chance to not let this woman die in the same way. Grace could sympathize with the grief and responsibility Sam undeniably felt, but acting rash and being quick to emotion was only going to get them all killed. Sam knew that once, he lived by that motto, but every day that passes in the wake of Jessica’s murder only drives him farther and farther away from the beaten path they’ve walked for years.

“We wait, Sam! You know this!” Grace snapped, pushing herself off of the car door to stand between her brothers, aware of how her hands tremble and her voice wavers with emotions she has no control over. “Get your head out of your ass and think about those kids – that woman. You want to make up for how you handled Jessica, I get that, Dean gets that, but going in now is a sure fire way to get all of us killed, or worse, outed. So, would you please get in the fucking car already and stop acting like a toddler with no sense of impulse control?” She didn’t wait to see his reaction, she didn’t need to look at him to know that tears glimmered in his sad light eyes and his mouth hung open in startled shock.

She slipped into the backseat without another word, pulling the door closed with unnecessary force. Dean shook his head, but in a moment of vulnerability, he pointed his words at Sam carefully. “I can’t have the both of you breaking down on this, man, and I can’t – we can’t – ask her to pretend like being here isn’t killing her. So for the love of god, start thinking about more people than just yourself, would you?”

Sam nodded after a minute, looking past the reflection on the windows to see Grace. She has her nails between her lips, teeth gnawing away at scabbed over skin as she draws in deep breaths that don’t look to be having the desired effect as her shoulders remain tense and her back rigid. He hadn’t really seen her before, he’d been too far into his own head and worries, but he does now, and his heart hammers with guilt when he realizes that being here is the reason she’s so on edge. She’d wanted this moment for decades; had spent years grilling John about Mary and the first six months of her life only to be met with silence or explosive rage. She was finally here, finally getting to see what should’ve been her life – their lives –, and it was muddled by the very demon that had taken it all away from her. His heart hurt for Jessica, for himself, but it hurt even more for his little sister that only ever tried to find the good in the shitty cards life dealt her.

“We just got to chill out, that’s all.” Dean said as he leaned against the trunk of the car, both him and Sam waiting by the pump as Grace ran inside to grab a handful of snacks to tide them over until they had a chance to grab a real bite to eat. She hadn’t said much since they’d pulled away from Jenny’s house, but she didn’t need to say anything at all for her brothers to know she was drowning. “If this was any other kind of job, what would we do?”

Sam sighed, dropping his hands to the hood of the car as he looked around, racking his brain for the procedure they’d perfected and followed over years of trial and error. “We’d try to figure out what we were dealing with. We’d dig into the history of the house.”

“Exactly, except this time we already know what happened.” Dean nodded, but Sam wasn’t too sure that he was right about that.

“Yeah, but how much do we know? How much do you actually remember?” Sam sat on the trunk of the car, finally out of his head enough to address the bigger questions that he had.

Dean sighed, “About that night, you mean?”

“Yeah.” Sam’s encouragement was blunt, but he knew better than to try and press Dean any harder than that.

“Not much.” The eldest Winchester admitted after a moment of contemplation, “I remember that you had wet the bed so Mom put you down in Gracie’s room. I remember waking up to Mom screaming. I remember the fire… the heat. Then I carried you out the front door.” It wasn’t all that Dean remembered, but the more specific visuals didn’t need to be spoken. They weren’t important, but they flashed before Dean’s eyes anyways as he let himself remember the first night he’d ever tried to block out of his memory.

Sam’s head inclines to the side, and he turns his gaze to settle on Dean’s. “You did?”

“Yeah, well, you never knew that?” Dean frowned, but continued anyway. He’d spent decades holding onto these troubled memories, but being back where it had all happened, he just didn’t see the point in keeping them so close to his heart anymore. “Dad gave you to me. Told me to get outside as quickly as I could. Gracie was in their room… I think… I think Dad tried to get Mom first, but when he couldn’t, he went and got Gracie and met us outside. He got out there just before the explosion.”

“No.” Sam didn’t know what to make of that information. He’d never thought much about how he’d gotten out of the house, but now that he knew it was Dean, well something changed inside of him that he couldn’t quite place.

“Well, you know Dad’s story as well as I do – Mom was… was on the ceiling, and whatever put her there was long gone by the time Dad found her.”

Sam frowned, craning his head to glance at Dean before his eyes wandered to the scenery around them. “And he never had a theory about what did it?”

Dean shook his head, turning to sit beside Sam on the trunk.“If he did, he kept it to himself. God knows we asked him enough times. God knows Gracie asked him enough times.”

Sam didn’t want to accept that as the truth, but it was all that they had to go off of, and so he found himself taking the information for what it was worth anyways. “Okay. So, if we’re gonna figure out what’s going on now, we have to figure out what happened back then, and see if it’s the same thing.”

“Yeah,” Dean agreed, his eyes squinted as the sun shone brightly overhead. “Talk to Dad’s friends, neighbors, people who were there at the time.”

“Does this feel like just another job to you?” Sam asked, his voice solemn and quiet as he peered out at the road ahead of him.

Dean swallowed thickly, his eyes watering as his adams apple bobbed. He didn’t answer the question, couldn’t bring himself to, and quickly he excused himself, not wanting to cry in front of Sam, and desperately not wanting Grace to choose this very moment to come back outside. “I’ll be right back. I got to go to the bathroom.” He excused, even though he knew Sam could see through the weak excuse.

Minutes later, Grace came out of the gas station holding three bags of chips and a milkshake. The straw was pink, and on any other day she would’ve beamed at the small detail, but her eyes barely held onto their light as she sank into the trunk beside Sam, offering him the bag of doritos she’d snagged with him in mind. “I’m sorry.” She admitted quietly, glancing up to meet his eyes with nothing but sadness and regret clouding her green gaze. “I know this is a lot for both of you, not just me. I know I’ll never be able to understand how you feel about Jessica’s death. I just, I couldn’t listen to you fighting anymore. Not when– not when–”

“Hey, hey.” Sam shook his head, cutting Grace’s tearful rambling off by throwing an arm over her shoulder, pulling her warm body into his embrace with gentle protectiveness. “I know, Gracie. It’s okay.” He pressed a kiss into the crown of her head, his eyes fluttering closed as for a minute, he let himself slip away into stillness. “Dean and I, we’re gonna canvas the area. Talk to anyone Dad might’ve had a connection to; anyone who might know more about what happened to Mom. If it’s too much, you don’t have to come. Believe me, Dean and I understand.”

Grace shook her head, holding tighter to her milkshake that was hardly doing its job of bringing her comfort. “No. No, I need– I need to know. I want to know. You and Dean, you had Dad. Maybe he was an asshole, maybe you didn’t always see eye to eye, but he was still a guy, and in his own fucked up way he showed you he cared. I remember when he’d come back from a hunt with new hot wheels for you; when he was so fucking proud that Dean caught a bass on that fishing trip we took when he went to visit Bobby that one time. I just, Sammy, I want Mom. I’ve always just wanted a Mom. I want to know everything about her, and if this is all I’ll ever get, I have to be there to hear it myself. I just… I h-have to.” Tears fell down her cheeks, hot and salty as they pooled around the straw pinched between her teeth.

“Okay.” Sam sighed softly, pressing another kiss into Grace’s head. “Okay. But I mean it, G. If this gets too much, if it’s not what you want to hear, or it’s too hard– Dad’s not here. You don’t have to push yourself to do this with us. Promise me… promise me that you’ll step away if you can’t do it.”

“You know I can’t promise that.” Grace shook her head, not only because this was everything she’d ever wanted as a little girl desperately craving a maternal figure, but also because John Winchester would have a shit fit if he knew she was slacking; letting her brothers finish a hunt alone. He might not be here to see her fail, but it’s too close to home for anything she does to feel right.

“I know.” Sam sighed, but his gaze snaps to Dean when he starts to approach the Impala, his hands in his pockets as he looks his eyes down. “She’s all ready to go.” Sam was talking about the car, about how the tank was finally filled and they could hit the road, but he was also talking about Grace.

Dean looked his sister over, and when he didn’t find signs of unruly distress, he nodded, but not before Grace extended her arm and waved around the mint chocolate chip milkshake. “They had one of those f’real machines.” She hums quietly, silently offering him a sip. Not because she wants to share, no she’d always been territorial over her milkshakes and the boys had learned that the hard way over the years, but rather because she figured Dean could use a little pick me up, even if her offer was weak and he didn’t like milkshakes nearly as much as she did.

The eldest Winchester managed a soft smirk, and he reached out to take the cup. He took a sip that was far too big for Grace’s liking, and the youngest Winchester pouted in disbelief. “Hey! Don’t drink it all!” She whined, reaching for the cup back before jutting her foot out to assault Dean’s shin. “Asshole.” She grumbled.

“Get in the car, princess.” Dean knows how much his sister hates that nickname, and although Grace rolls her eyes in annoyance, she doesn’t fight it as aggressively as she would've done any other day. This isn’t any other day, and it’s definitely not any other case, and for the first time in a while she really does appreciate her brother's tendencies to annoy the living shit out of her.

It was the next morning, and the Winchester siblings had an early start to the day despite none of them getting much sleep. Grace stuck close to Dean and Sam as they wandered through a mechanic garage, their eyes taking in every detail with the knowledge that once, John had not only worked here, but owned it. It feels so far-fetched to Grace. She can’t imagine a life where her father did anything but torment sorry sons of bitches (i.e., her) and hunt monsters, but apparently he’d had himself a quaint little life before everything got derailed.

“So, you and John Winchester. You used to own this garage together?” Dean questioned, his leather jacket slung around his shoulders despite the comfortable temperature outside. Grace was in a pair of leggings and a Stanford t-shirt, one of many that she’d stolen from not only Sam, but from Jessica. She knows the one she wears currently is the womans, and it brings her just the slightest ounce of peace as she strives to keep her memory alive.

“Yeah, we used to. A long time ago. Matter of fact, must be 20 years since John disappeared. If I’m remembering correct, his littlest one should be about your age.” The man muttered, looking at Grace, who for the time being, was playing the role of cop in training. She tried not to bristle at the mention of herself, but her fingers twitched with emotion that lucky didn’t draw eyes. “So, why are the cops interested all of a sudden?”

“Oh, we’re reopening some of our unsolved cases, and the Winchester disappearance is one of them.” Dean nodded, looking to Sam before he trailed his eyes back to his fathers old business partner.

“Uh-huh. Well, what do you want to know about John?” The mechanic questioned, and Grace was suddenly aware of who truly off her game she was. She knows the man introduced himself, knows that Sam and Dean both had told her who he is and what his connection to their father was, but she cannot find his name in her memory anywhere.

“Whatever you remember. Whatever sticks out in your mind.” Dean opened the conversation up to miniscule details and major ones, knowing that they’d be able to do a lot with any information at all.

“Well… he was a stubborn bastard. I remember that. And, uh, oh, whatever the game, he hated to lose, you know? It was that whole marine thing.” The mechanic had no idea who the three individuals in front of him really were, but somehow it wasn’t surprising for Grace to hear from an unbiased opinion that her father was a rough character and a hard man. “But, uh. Well, he sure loved Mary, and he doted on those kids.” Grace couldn’t picture a time where John had felt anything but resentment and hatred for her, but evidently there had been a small window of love because the man had no reason to be lying to them. What had changed? Sure, losing Mary had changed him, but there were still moments in the early years when he didn’t treat the boys any differently than he always had. So, it must’ve been her. There must be something so horrible about her that even her father can’t stand her simple presence.

“But that was before the fire.” Sam noted, almost certain that he was correct, but needing verbal confirmation to fully run with whatever theories he was trying to wave together.

“That’s right.” The man nodded, his eyes falling to the concrete floors as memories flooded his mind.

“He ever talk about that night?” Sam continued to press, but there was an unmistakable gentleness in his tone as he flickered his eyes to Grace momentarily.

“No, not at first. I think he was in shock.” Grace could picture that being the case. Even when John had formed a thick skin around monsters and the plethora of things that went bump in the night, there had still been cases that rattled him to a short temper and violent anger. Grace had always thought that was one of the most ironic things about the way she was raised. John allowed himself to be rattled and affected by the cases he worked and the monsters he hunted, but the second it was her that couldn’t quite carry the load of trauma and terror, she was berated and beaten until she promised to never show weakness again.

“Right, but eventually – what did he say about it?”

“Oh, he wasn’t thinking straight. He said, uh– he said something caused that fire and killed Mary.” The man nodded as he remembered events that happened almost twenty years ago.

“He ever said what did it?” It was Dean’s turn to press for more, and so Grace shifted her weight, squaring her stance as she raised her chin to look at the man who had known her father before everything went downhill.

“Nothing did it. It was an accident.” The man bristled, “An electrical short in the ceiling or walls or something. I begged him to get some help, but…”

“But what?” Grace found herself being the one to ask, her eyes sharp and interested even though all she really wanted to do was shrink into herself and step as far away from this conversation as she could get. She wanted to know about Mary, about her mother, not listen to people try and sympathize with her lifelong abuser.

“Oh, it just got worse and worse.” The man noted, but when Dean pressed for more, he relented easily. “Oh, he started reading these strange old books. He started going to see this palm reader in town.”

Grace perked up at the mention of someone new for them to tail, her eyes narrowing as she inclined her head and looked up at Dean. “Palm reader? Do you have a name, sir?”

“No.” The man chuckled, shaking his head like not having a name wasn’t the end of the world. Maybe it wasn’t to him, but Grace felt her shoulders sink in defeat. It wouldn’t be impossible to locate which one her father had visited, they’d found more with less, but still it felt like just another roadblock keeping her from the truth.

They didn’t stick around for much longer, and when they did finally clamber into the Impala, Sam insisted that they find a phone booth and book to search for more answers about this supposed palm reader. Grace had no objections to her brother's suggestion, nodding her head quietly as she sank into the backseat and pulled her knees to her chest. Once upon a time, Dean had been adamant about a ‘no shoes on my seats’ rule, but that had lasted merely a week before he gave up and let Grace do whatever she damn well pleased. Even if the young woman didn’t realize it, she always got what she wanted when her brothers were around.

That’s how they found themselves in a near abandoned parking lot. Sam had his nose in a phone book, and Dean and Grace leaned against the Impala, happy to take a step back for a minute to get their composure in order. “So, there are a few psychics and palm readers in town. There’s uh, there’s someone named El Divino. There’s the mysterious Mr. Fortinsky. Uh, Missouri Moseley–” Grace stood up straighter at the third name that rolled off of Sam’s lips.

“Wait! Missouri Moseley?” She backtracked, her eyes wide as she stepped forward to read the name over Sam’s shoulder.

“What?” Sam craned his head to look at his little sister, moving the book just slightly so that she could see the entire page, not sure what information she was after or what puzzle she was putting together in her head.

“She’s a psychic.” The young woman breathed out in realization, immediately pulling away from Sam and stalking toward the trunk of the car, leaving her brothers to stand alone in their confusion as she unintentionally kept them in the dark. She pulled the trunk open, her movements frantic as she ripped through their duffles until she found John’s journal. “In Dad’s journal… come here, look at this!”

She slammed the trunk closed, flipping open the worn leather cover as her eyes scanned the words scribbled in black ink. “The first page, the first sentence. I’ve always thought it was weird. Read it.”

She pushed the book into Dean’s hands, and Sam came to stand beside their brother, his eyes scanning the page before he began to read aloud. “I went to Missouri…and I learned the truth.”

“I always thought he meant the state.” Dean mumbled beneath his breath, but Grace had never been so blind to the intricate quirks of John’s work. The way he wrote state names and people names was different, if only just slightly. The way he’d dotted the ‘i’ like he’d been trying to signify something without outright saying it had always stumped her. Her fathers handwriting was terrible and messy, but something about Missouri had always seemed so formal and correct to her. She didn’t say anything else, just snatched the journal back and crawled into the backseat, silently telling the boys to get a move on before she melted down from anxious anticipation.

The Winchester siblings sat in the foyer of Missorui Mosley’s home and practice, waiting for their turn with the psychic as they individually went over what they knew about the case. It wasn’t even a full five minutes later when they heard a woman’s voice draw near, and seconds later a black woman who Grace assumed to be the woman they were seeking a conversation with led a middle-aged man out toward the door. “All right, then. Don’t you worry about a thing. Your wife is crazy about you.” She smiles encouragingly, showing the client out, but the second she closes the door behind him her expression drops into one of pity, “Whew! Poor bastard – his woman is cold-bangin’ the gardener.”

Grace’s lips quirk upward in tired amusement, her eyes trailing after Missouri as she steps back toward where she’d come from. “Why didn’t you tell him?” Dean questioned, a smirk splaying across his lips although Grace thinks that has more to do with the mental image rather than the actual deception at hand.

“People don't come here for the truth. They come for good news.” The woman corrects Dean’s expectations for her service, and when it becomes clear that Grace is waiting for her brothers to make a move and neither of the Winchester men are eager to comply with the time crunch they’ve been presented with, Missouri looks back over her shoulder in exasperation. “Well? Sam and Dean, come on already. I ain’t got all day. Your sisters waiting for you.”

Despite the emotional exhaustion that weighed Grace down, she couldn’t help but find herself smiling as she stood from the cushioned bench and followed after Missouri, looking back at her brothers with amusement as they begrudgingly followed after her, evidently not so pleased with the favoritism their sister was already being shown by the psychic.

“Well, let me look at you.” Missouri demanded once all three Winchesters had ducked beneath her doorframe decorated in beads. Grace’s cheeks flushed bashfully as she felt the woman's eyes rake over her frame, subconsciously rubbing at the spot on her bicep where a bruise always lingered whenever John was around to drag her around like a puppet. If Missouri noticed the movement, which Grace knew that she did, she didn’t comment on it. “Oh, you boys grew up handsome. And you were one goofy looking kid, too.” She pointed to Dean specifically, and Sam’s lips quirked into a smirk as he glanced at their older brother. “And you, Miss Grace, you look just like your mother. If I didn’t know any better I’d say I was looking at her carbon copy.”

Grace’s heart thumped heavily in her chest at the complement, her cheeks flushing pink as she glanced down at her shoes bashfully. In all of her life, she doesn’t think anyones ever compared her to Mary; not John, not her brothers. She knows Missouri’s being more kind than she is truthful – Mary had blonde hair, Grace has brown. Mary had thinner lips, Grace hates how full hers are – but it still warmed her heart and hurt her feelings nonetheless. Would Mary be proud that they looked alike? Would she float around in all of her social circles beaming about how her baby girl has the same high cheekbones and kind eyes as her? Desperately Grace hopes that would’ve been her reality. She knows that had she looked more like John, he would’ve drawn no attention to it.

Missouri grabs onto Sam’s head, and her gaze saddens as she looks at him carefully. “Sam. Oh, honey. I’m sorry about your girlfriend, and your father…he’s missing?” All three siblings inclined their heads at the women's knowledge of their situation. Grace hadn’t doubted her abilities for a second, not when she knew John Winchester only sought out the best of the best, but it was still eerie for a supposed stranger to simply know and be aware of their hardships.

“How’d you know all that?” Apparently Sam couldn’t blindly trust as easily as Grace, because even with the premonitions and nightmares that plagued his subconscious, he still found himself questioning Missouri’s abilities.

“Well, you were just thinking it, just now.” Missouri fired back at him.

Dean bristled at the mention of their father, and his eyes betrayed his composure as they bled worry and concern. “Well, where is he? Is he okay?”

“I don’t know.” Grace knew that Dean wasn’t going to take that answer well, but before she could speak and control the nature of the conversation, Dean was narrowing his eyes, disbelief clouding his gaze.

“Don’t know?” He questioned, shaking his head as he glanced at Sam and Grace. “You’re supposed to be a psychic, right?”

Missouri recoiled at his tone, her eyebrows furrowing. “Boy, you see me sawing some bony tramp in half? You think I’m a magician? I may be able to read thoughts and sense energies in a room, but I can’t just pull facts out of thin air. Sit. Please!” She demanded, her gaze snapping to Sam who was smirking in amusement as Dean got – rightfully – torn into.

Grace didn’t have to be told twice, shuffling forward until she could wedge her body into the corner of the couch closest to the windows. Sam fell into the cushions beside her, his thigh brushing against hers as he adjusted his position to rest his elbows on his knees. Grace rolled her eyes, batting him away from her until a sliver of space separated their skin. She’d never understand her brother's inability to sit considerably. She was always benign squished onto someone or something.

“Boy, you put your foot on my coffee table, I’m gonna whack you with a spoon.” Missouri interjected before Dean could even get comfortable on the couch, his weight still sinking into the well-loved cushions as her warning fell into the air.

“I didn’t do anything.” Dean defended, his head inclined to the side as he glanced at the psychic with wide eyes and a slack jaw.

“Well, you were thinking about it.” She clapped back at him, and once again Sam found himself laughing in amusement. Grace wasn’t so easily distracted from the case at hand, growing antsy to find any kind of answer for what they were dealing with or what Mary had been subjected to.

Sam shifted on the couch when a beat of silence elapsed, leaning forward just slightly to address Missouri. “Okay, so. Our dad. When did you first meet him?”

“He came for a reading a few days after the fire. I just told him what was really out there in the dark. I guess you could say I drew back the curtains for him.” Missouri explained, and conflicting emotions bombarded Grace’s heart as she looked across at the woman. She had better things to put her energy into, but still she couldn’t help but linger on the newfound knowledge that in part, this was the woman she had to blame for her life becoming what it was. It wasn’t Missouri’s fault, she couldn’t have predicted what John would do with that information once he had it, but without her helping hand, there might have been a chance at normalcy for the youngest Winchester.

“What about the fire?” Dean questioned, evidently not phased by the deeper connections that his sister was making, but then again, he didn’t have any hard feelings about the life they lived. He’d never known anything else, and at this point, he didn’t see any way out, so there wasn’t much for him to harp on or shed tears over. “Do you know about what killed our mom?”

“A little. Your daddy took me to your house. He was hoping I could sense the echoes, the fingerprints of this thing.” Missouri explained, but she trailed off, evidently emotional as her voice softened and ehr tone wavered just slightly.

Sam leaned closer, eager to know what else the woman knew about Mary and that fateful night. “I don’t…” She faltered, shaking her head.

“What was it?” Sam pressed for more, able to see that there was something Missouri was holding back from them.

“I don’t know.” She exhaled sharply, her head shaking as she recalled the things she’d sensed all those years ago. “But it was evil.” She rose from the couch, moving her body to keep the memory from consuming her entirely. Grace knew that coping strategy well, but it wasn’t doing her a lot of good now that they’d been spending so much time trapped within the Impala.

Eventually, Missouri collected herself, turning back to the Winchesters with concern in his dark eyes. “So, you think somethings back in that house?”

“Definitely.” Sam nodded, speaking for both of his siblings who were more than content to let him take the lead on this.

“I don’t understand.” Missouri mumbled, sinking back into the chair she’d been sitting at before, her eyes trailing across all three siblings.

“What?” Sam asked, his eyebrows pinching together in confusion.

“I haven’t been back inside, but I’ve been keeping an eye on the place, and it’s been quiet. No sudden deaths, no freak accidents. Why is it acting up now?” She asked the same question that Grace had.

“I don’t know. But Dad going missing and Jessica dying and now this house – all happening at once – it just feels like something's starting.” Sam explained thoughtfully. Grace felt goosebumps rise on her arms as she considered that very real possibility. She was raised to face danger in the face, but she wanted absolutely nothing to do with whatever supernatural storm was undoubtedly coming their way.

“That’s a comforting thought.” Dean hummed humorlessly.

After telling Missouri more about what they thought was happening in Jenny’s home, the psychic insisted on sniffing out the supposed energy herself, which is how all three Winchesters ended up back at their old house standing on the porch with her at their side. Grace stood slightly behind her brothers, her eyes taking in every minor detail of the front door as they waited for Jenny to greet them. Missouri glances at her, but Grace pretends not to notice, keeping her eyes on the house.

Eventually, the door is pulled open and Jenny comes into view with Richie on her hip, looking slightly panicked if her grip on the toddler's overalls was any indication. “Sam, Dean, Grace, what are you doing here?” Her eyes trail across every Winchester on her doorstep curiously, although they linger on Grace for a second longer than they’d lingered on her brothers.

“Hey, Jenny.” Sam greets hesitantly, his eyes on Richie before they shift toward the woman just slightly behind him. “Um, this is our friend Missouri.”

“If it’s not too much trouble we were hoping to show her the house, for old times sake.” Dean cut in, pulling out one of his signature charming smiles as he looked at the single mother in front of him.

“No, you know, this isn’t a good time. I’m kind of busy.” Jenny’s eyes flicker nervously, and instinctively she steps back into the house, preparing to leave the Winchesters out on the doorstep. Grace doesn’t miss the uncertainty that’s laced within the woman’s eyes, or the way that she holds onto Richie just a little bit tighter as she steps back.

Dean evidently doesn’t pick up on the same telling traits as Grace, because he takes a step forward, his tone becoming harsh and intent. “Listen, Jenny, it’s important – ow!” He whines, holding the back of his head as he turns his gaze to Missouri, wondering why she’d just slapped the back of his head with no warning.

“Give the poor girl a break. Can’t you see she’s upset?” Missouri scoffed, looking at Dean with furrowed eyebrows and a judgemental frown. “Forgive this boy. He means well. He’s just not the sharpest tool in the shed. But hear me out.”

“About what?” Jenny frowned, but turned her body toward Missouri, giving the woman her full attention.

“About this house.”

Jenny frowned, but there was something beneath her eyes that told Grace she already knew where this conversation was heading. “What are you talking about?” She asked regardless, not ready to admit that all of the strange feelings she’d been having were related to the house itself.

“I think you know what I’m talking about. You think there’s something in this house, something that wants to hurt your family. Am I mistaken?” Missouri approached the conversation softly, but there's a firmness in her tone that has Jenny staring back at her in concern. Clearly Missouri had hit the nail on the head, but without knowing who the woman was or what she was capable of doing, it only further unsettled the mother of two.

“Who are you?” Jenny questioned, emotion laced into her tone as her eyes flickered to Grace.

The youngest Winchester stepped around her brothers to stand beside Missouri when it became evident that Jenny wanted to hear the words come from her. She doesn’t know why the woman likes her so much, but from the very first time they’d met Jenny hadn’t looked at her the same way she’d looked at the boys. “We’re people who can help you; help your kids. We can stop this thing, but I need you to trust me for that to happen. You don’t have to trust my brothers, or Missouri, but I need you to at least trust me. Can you do that?”

Jenny sighed, and for a moment Grace thought that she was going to turn around and close the door in her face, but then she inclined her head toward the entryway and stepped out of the way, nodding softly in acceptance of Grace’s terms and conditions. The youngest Winchester smiled gracefully, but that quirk in her lips slipped away as she stepped into the house, her eyes immediately wandering to the stairs. Her nursery was up there. The room that Mary had spent time decorating and perfecting for her was just right up those steps, and maybe it wasn't exactly the same anymore, but the young woman still itched to see it.

“We’ll need to take a look upstairs. If that’s okay with you, Jenny.” Missouri explained softly, and Grace’s heart skipped a beat when she realized that whether she could handle seeing her old bedroom or not, that’s where they were going. She didn’t realize she was holding her breath until they made it up the stairs and Missouri pushed the door open until all four of them could slip inside.

“If there’s a dark energy here, this room should be the center of it.” Missouri commented, her eyes taking in the soft pink walls and white trimming.

“Why?” Sam questioned, but Grace knew that he’d already figured out why this particular room was so important to Missouri. His eyes held crystal tears, but he refused to let them fall as he glanced around at everything he couldn’t remember. It was the room of a child undoubtedly, but he still couldn’t draw on the memories of it being a baby’s room, much less his sisters.

“This used to be Grace’s nursery. This is where it all happened.” Missouri explained regardless of what the Winchesters already knew.

“It looks the same.” Dean breathed beneath his breath, and Grace’s gaze snapped to him immediately. Her breath hitched, and immediately she drew her eyes to every miniscule detail. It was obvious that the room had been renovated, but she couldn’t help but think some of the paint was its original craftsmanship. A spot on the wall near the window was streaky, and very obviously not the work of a professional. Did Mary paint the room by herself? Had Dean and Sam helped her do it? The help of a toddler would explain why the coat was uneven, and it warmed her heart to think about a little five-year-old Dean helping paint what would be her room.

She must’ve gotten lost in her head, because when she finally tuned into the conversations happening around her, Missouri had her full attention on Dean as she asked him about what item he held in his palm. “That an EMF?”

“Yeah.” Dean nodded without even looking up at the woman, and Missouri scoffed, shaking her head. “Amateur.” She commented.

The EMF detector buzzed to life, the lights flashing red, but Missouri wasn’t convinced that what she found was what the Winchester’s thought they were dealing with, her attention turning to the three siblings who stood in a nonuniform cluster. “I don’t know if you kids should be disappointed or relieved, but this ain’t the thing that took your mom.”

Grace’s gaze snapped to the woman, and Sam’s eyes grew wider. “Are you sure?” He questioned, not sure whether he was relieved to not be facing that demon head on, or disappointed that he was still far from getting justice for Jessica and Mary. “How do you know?”

“It isn’t the same energy I felt the last time I was here. It’s something different.” The woman noted, walking to another corner of the room, her gaze set firmly on the closet.

“What is it?” Dean questioned, confusion etched across his features.

“Not it…them. There’s more than one spirit in this place.” For a moment, Grace’s heart fluttered in her chest. Was it Mary? After all of these years, was she in the same space that her mother took up? No, Mary wouldn’t become a vengeful spirit. She didn’t know much about the woman, but what she did know was that her mother was kind, and sweet, and gentle. She wouldn't terrorize a little girl and go after a family that was so similar to her own. “They’re here because of what happened to your family. You see, all those years ago, real evil came to you. It walked this house. That kind of evil leaves wounds, and sometimes wounds get infected.”

“I don’t understand.” Sam shook his head, but Grace couldn’t even find the words to voice her confusion, or any words at all for that matter. Her eyes were still trailing across every inch of the room, mesmerised by its simple beauty and wondering what it must’ve looked like when it was filled with toys and clothes and a crib. When she was little, she’d always told John that she wished motel rooms came in different colors. He’d always scoffed and called her an idiot, but that had never deterred her from wanting a pink room to spend just one night in. She’d had a pink room. This was her pink room. Somewhere inside of her a piece of that broken little girl healed just slightly.

“This place is a magnet for paranormal energy. It’s attracted a poltergeist – a nasty one – and it won’t rest until Jenny and her babies are dead.” Missouri explained, shaking her head as she reaped more of the spirits' intentions off of the walls.

“You said there was more than one spirit.” Sam brought her attention back to that simple point, and Missouri nodded with assurance that she’d gotten that right.

“There is.” She walked back toward the closet, “I just can’t quite make out the second one.”

“D-Do you think it’s our Mom? Sari– Sari said she saw a woman burning in her closet. Is there a chance– could it be her?” Grace hated how she stumbled over her words, hated that she even voiced that question to begin with, but it was falling off of her lips before she could really think about what she was saying.

Her heart broke when Missouri shook her head, her eyes soft and caring, but even that couldn’t soften the blow of losing hope yet another time. “I don’t think so. This energy… it’s different. I can’t quite put my finger on it.”

“Well, one thing’s for damn sure – nobody’s dying in this house ever again. So, whatever is here, how do we stop it?” Dean stepped toward Missouri, standing in front of Grace who looked like she’d just been crushed from the very core of her soul. Her green eyes glittered with tears, her lips quivered with emotions she couldn’t suppress, and no matter how many times she tried to draw in a deep breath, her shoulders shook with sobs she was desperately trying to swallow.

“I’ll be back.” The young woman whispered to nobody in particular, stepping out of the room before either of her brothers could decide to follow her out to the car. She needed a minute. She couldn’t be the strong, unafraid hunter her father expected her to be right now. She doesn’t think she’s been that girl since before she left in the middle of the night to join Sam at Stanford when she was nineteen.

The second she was out of the house, everything that she’d been trying to keep underwraps came tumbling out of her. She stumbled to the Impala, a hand over her mouth to catch the sobs that fell off of her tongue and drew attention to her presence in the quaint little town. Her chest ached, her throat burned, and when she finally reached the Impala, she threw a weak punch at the trunk, but that didn’t quell the agonizing pain anymore than sobbing like a child did. Her mind flashed white for a second, consumed by not only the stinging pain in her knuckles, but the emotional anguish that tore her up from the very core of her body. She had a million questions: How was this happening again? Why was this happening again? Was this something bigger than what she could see?, but there weren’t any answers for her to find, not right now at least. The simple truth was that sometimes, shit happens, but that felt weak and like only half of the truth as she reminded herself of all the terrible things that had accumulated over the course of her life. Why could she never catch a break? Anytime she tried to distance herself from the life her father had built without even consulting his children, something dragged her right back into the chaos of it all. Anytime she tried to accept the life of a hunter as her own, something terrible came for them; whether that be a tough case or her fathers very own fists. Nothing she did was right. She has no sense of herself. She thought she did for a while, thought she’d finally figured out what her life could be like if she just had the chance to work for it, but even the simple dream of normalcy felt like it didn’t fit her anymore.

The woman, who was really only a twenty-year-old kid who’d never even really had a chance at life, finally manages to collect herself, and with trembling hands she brushes the tears from her cheeks and squares her shoulders. She might not be ready to face the music and go back into the house where her mother was murdered in her bedroom, but she doesn’t have a choice. She’s never had a choice. She doesn’t let the reality of her life keep her paralyzed in pain, if there’s one consistent thing about Grace Winchester, it’s that she doesn’t back down from a fight, and especially not one that her brothers are intertwined with.

She’s about to walk inside, face her fears, when her brothers come out with Missouri on their heels. Jenny stands in the doorway, and when her eyes meet Grace’s, she smiles a soft smile that can only be described as something entirely maternal. It nearly chokes Grace up again, but she manages to keep her composure as she smiles back, hiding her fist behind her back as she’s acutely aware of the blood running down her fingers and dripping onto the concrete beneath her feet.

“Where are we going now?” She asks when the boys are within earshot, and she tries to ignore how Dean’s eyes soften as they memorize the pain etched across her face. Her eyes are swollen and rimmed red, and she knows her cheeks are flush with emotion that she can’t even find a name for. She’s sad, scared, filled with grief, but there’s something else that plagues her too. Maybe it’s exhaustion, or maybe it’s something different; something that she’d never been able to understand when her father expressed it, but recognizes in herself now. She’s pissed. Pissed that yet another spirit is disrupting what’s left of their childhood home. Pissed that no matter how far they run, something always pulls them right back to the start of it all. Pissed that her mothers final resting place can’t even see peace. Whatever the feeling is, it fuels her rage, and she’s learned that rage can be a powerful and helpful tool in cases like this.

“Back to Missouri’s.” Sam tells her softly, gently pulling her hand out from behind her back. He frowns when he notices split knuckles and sticky blood caked between her fingers. Grace is a lot of things, but she’s not violent or quick to anger. He can’t even begin to know how she’s feeling, but he guesses it's overwhelming enough to come away with split knuckles.

“Did you punch my car?” Dean questions, concern laced within his green eyes. Grace doesn’t know if it’s concern for her, or concern for Baby, but it's not hard to assume that he’s more worried about the state of his precious car than her nondominant hand.

“She’s fine.” The youngest Winchester huffs, looking back at the Impala where the only indication that she’d even touched it at all is the smear of blood along the silver trim that dries down to something copper toned the longer it’s exposed to the fresh Spring air. “And it wasn’t even a punch. Dad would make me do it again just so that I did it right.”

Dean shakes his head sadly, evidently not so concerned about the car in this moment. Grace averts her attention at the realization that it's her he’s concerned for, and she looks down at her shoes as she begins to feel like a child that everyone needs to keep an eye on. “I’m fine, Dean.”

“Yeah, I know.” The eldest Winchester doesn’t believe her in the slightest, but she learned that response from him, so he doesn’t fight it. Instead, he just grabs her wrist, leading her over to the trunk where he has a first aid kit buried beneath their duffle bags.

Sam leads Missouri back to her own car, evidently talking about what the next step should be. Grace thinks he just wants to give her another minute to collect herself without an audience, and she can’t say that she’s not thankful for his thoughtfulness as she flinches away from Dean’s soft touches to her wounded skin. “It's really the same?” She asks softly, looking up at him with so much untouched innocence in her eyes that his own heart stutters in his chest.

“Yeah, Gracie.” He sighs, taking an antiseptic wipe and bringing it over her knuckles, trying not to react to the way she takes in a sharp breath of air when the sting registers in her head. He wipes the blood from her fingers before he tosses the wipe into the trunk to be dealt with at a later date, reaching for bandages that he knows she’ll rip off in only a matter of hours, but still puts the effort into finding regardless. “Dad wanted to hire painters, but Mom wanted to do it herself. When he was at work one day, she took Sammy and I out to the store to get the paint. She had it all figured out; she always did. I remember… I remember painting with her when Sam was taking a nap. You would’ve loved her, Gracie. She was… you are… God, you’re just like her. From what I remember anyways. She never backed down from a fight, never let anything stop her. She and Dad would go at it, and then she’d just start laughing because she couldn’t take him seriously when his face got all red. She was– she was the only person that could make him laugh in the middle of a fight. But, um, yeah, the paint is the same.”

“I always wanted a pink room. When I was little, when we first started going to different motels, and Dad started working longer cases. I always told him that I wanted to stay in a pink room, and he always got so pissed off and told me to shut up and be grateful I got to sleep anywhere at all.” She hums, and Dean remembers that vividly. He’d always laughed and ruffled her hair, always tried his best to distract her from the fact that none of the walls were ever pink. He doesn’t say anything though, he doesn’t know what to say. Nothing will make those memories go away, and nothing will give her what she never had. Grace doesn’t bristle at his chosen silence, instead, she lets it fall over her until something else crosses her mind. “Dean?” She hums as she looks down at the bandages he’s wrapping around her knuckles.

“Yeah, Gracie?” He sighs his attentiveness, letting his eyes flicker to hers for only a moment before he’s looking back down at her hand, pinching her fingertips and ensuring that nothing is broken or sprained.

“Do you think I look like her? Missouri said I do but…” She trails off, biting at her lip as she waits for her older brother to find the right words to answer her question.

“When you were little, you looked just like her.” He said eventually, and Grace’s heart dropped at the implication that she didn’t look like Mary anymore. That life had aged her beyond the point of recognizable similarities. “You have her smile, her laugh. That’s how I can tell when you're bullshitting me. You don’t laugh like her when you’re just putting on this act that everything’s fine.”

“Oh.” Grace mumbles, tears pricking her eyes as she glances down at her feet. “I wish I got to know her.”

“Me too, Gracie. Me too.” Dean sighs, pulling her into his chest for a second. He kisses the top of her head before he pulls away and closes the trunk. “Get in the car. We have work to do.”

Grace and Dean are at the dining room table at Missouri’s. Sam is leaning against a chair, not much help to them, but neither sibling calls him out for simply wandering around aimlessly. Dean doesn’t have the energy to fight, and Grace is just thankful that she has something to keep herself busy with.

“So, what is all this stuff anyway?” Dean questioned as he filled another black cloth. Grace had already filled seven, steps ahead of her older brother who had never been good at following directions. The first three he made weren’t right in the slightest, and Missouri hadn’t been afraid to make him start over while mentioning that Grace was better at this than he was. It wasn’t often the youngest Winchester was singled out for something positive, and so she’d found herself grinning bashfully before sticking her tongue out at Dean.

“Angelica root, van van oil, crossroad dirt, a few other odds and ends.” Missouri highlighted, nodding toward the individual bowls of herbs on the table before she diverted her attention again.

“What are we supposed to do with it?” Dean bumped Grace’s arms, nodding toward one of the farthest bowls. She honestly couldn’t decipher what was what, but that didn’t really matter when it was all going in anyways. She moved it between them, reaching for another pinch of it and spreading it inside of her unwound black cloth.

“We’re gonna put them inside the walls in the North, South, East, West corners on each floor of the house.” Missouri explained as she grabbed a seat at the table on the opposite side from where the Winchesters sat.

“Punching holes in the drywall – Jenny’s gonna love that.” The sarcasm dripped from Dean’s lips like honey, and Grace rolled her eyes at his takeaway. She’d get over a few holes in the wall if it meant she and her children got to keep their lives.

“She’ll live.” Missouri pursed her lips, looking directly at Dean who very quickly diverted his attention to the task at hand.

“And this will destroy the spirits?” Sam questioned, still leaning his weight against the back of the chair, offering his siblings no help. Grace huffed at the bandages around her hand, the bulky padding was making it hard for her to tie off the bags, and so she began to pull it off without much care for how easily wounds could become infected. Both of her brothers rolled their eyes as she peeled the bandages away and discarded them on the table in a heap, but neither commented, knowing they would’ve done the same thing a hell of a lot sooner.

“It should.” Missouri nods. Grace is about to tie off her eight bundle when Dean taps her bicep, sprinkling a pinch of something into the palm of her hand. He raises his own fingers to his lips, tasting whatever herb he’d dipped his fingers into, and immediately pulls away when he realizes that it tastes horrible. Grace can only roll her eyes at his idiocy, dusting her hand off on her pants as she goes back to the task at hand. “It should purify the house completely. We’ll each take a floor, but we work fast. Once the spirits realize what we’re up to, things are gonna get bad.”

“Were they ever good?” Grace chuckles dryly, shaking her head as she ties off her final bundle. She huffs when she realizes that Dean still has two left, and he’s not moving any faster despite the finish line being in sight. She nudges his arm out of the way, pulling both black rags closer to her body, and by the time she finishes them, he’s only just finished the one he’d already been working on.

Nighttime falls over Lawrence like a thick blanket, and Grace has taken it upon herself to see Jenny and her kids out of the house for a couple of hours while they do what they need. The single mother of two still only had blind faith in her, and that’s not something the youngest Winchester takes lightly as she softly caresses Richie’s back. She has one hand in Sari’s, guiding her down the steps, but Richie seemed insistent that she paid him the same amount of attention too.

“Careful.” She warns the little girl who holds onto her tightly, her tone soft and incredibly maternal as she ensures that the little girl doesn’t slip beneath the cover of darkness that blurs the stairs together.

“You’ve asked me to trust you, and I do, but– I’m not sure I’m comfortable leaving all of you alone in the house.” Jenny stumbles over her words, stopping to stand at the bottom of the stairs as Grace fixes the jacket around Sari’s shoulders. She zips it up, hoping that the thin layer is enough to keep the little girl warm.

“Jenny,” Grace puts a comforting hand on the top of Sari’s head, wanting to keep the little girl calm though she undoubtedly has picked up on the tension that strains her mothers shoulders and had filled her house when they’d first arrived minutes ago. “I lost my mother to something evil in this house, and it still haunts me to this day. Let me make sure that your kids don’t lose you too, okay? This is my job. It’s the only thing I’m good at. Take the kids to see a movie or something, and it’ll all be over by the time you get back. Okay? Can you do that for me?”

Jenny stalls for a minute, but eventually she nods, shifting Richie’s diaper bag higher on her shoulder as it begins to slip off. “Okay.” She relents.

Grace gives Sari’s head once last caress, and she brushes her fingers against Richie’s cheek before she nods, turning to walk up the stairs and back into the house once she’s certain that the family of three had gotten into their car okay.

She sighs softly, desperately hoping that she can keep her word on this. She walks into the kitchen where Dean is already searching for a weak spot in the drywall. She doesn’t linger, knowing that time is running out and if she waits any longer, her job is going to get a whole lot harder. She knows where she has to go, and there’s something bittersweet about the fact that she’s the one that'll be putting the bundles into the walls of her childhood bedroom. She might not have been able to help when bad things were happening the first time around, but there’s something liberating in the knowledge that she’ll be able to end it all now.

She climbs the stairs two at a time, looking into the master bedroom where Sam is supposed to be depositing one of the bundles. He looks over his shoulder when the hardwood creaks beneath her weight, and he nods encouragingly before his eyes go back to the wall. Grace takes a deep breath, continuing down the hallway until she reaches the bedroom that was once a nursery. She lingers in the doorway for a minute before she’s pushing through the fear that grips her and walking into the closet. She shoves one of Sari’s rainbow dresses out of the way and gets to work at finding a weak spot in the drywall. For a minute, everything is fine, but then a hammer is hurtling her way and the only indication of its presence is the sound of the air around her whipping around. She turns just in time for the back of the hammer to break through the skin of her shoulder, penetrating her deep and painfully. She bellows out a loud cry of pain, sinking to the floor as she doesn’t know whether to rip the tool out of her shoulder or desperately cradle the area around it. For a minute, she remembers that she’s wearing Jessica’s shirt, and the pain only amplifies when she realizes that it's ruined; blood soaked and torn beneath her hands. The only things that gets her moving again is the stubbornness to not let it be in vein, and with all the effort that she can muster up, she breaks through the drywall and shoves the bag in just as the closet doors slam shut and something slides across the floor.

Panic grips at the young woman instantly. Memories of crappy motel room closets flash before her eyes. She hates this. Hates confined spaces. Hates being trapped. She pounds at the doors with little energy, suddenly aware of all the blood she’s losing as it drips down her chest and to her belly, leaving a crimson trail on the front of the shirt as if the circular ring around her shoulder isn’t enough. Her head feels heavy as she panics, her breathing coming out short and labored as she cries out weakly. “Let me out! Please! Please let me out!” She cries, but it's futile, because if these spirits have gotten to her, they’ve definitely gotten to Missouri and her brothers. She can’t breathe, her throat feels like it's closing in and every minuscule twitch of her muscles has her shoulder aching in brutal protest.

It’s been years since she’s seen the inside of a closet like this, years since she’s been close enough to John Winchester to even be tormented with the thought of being locked away, but no matter how much she’s healed since the last time she found herself thrown into a motel closet and locked in there for hours, it all comes rushing back to her now that she’s faced with the same fate once again.

Grace sinks to the floor, curling herself up as much as she could manage with the literal hammer sticking out from her shoulder. She knows that you never pull something like this out, especially not by yourself, but she’s panicking as she puts her head on her knees and tries to ignore the agonizing ache and inability to breathe. She doesn’t know when she started sobbing, but she’s acutely aware of how her shoulders tremble and it only further aggravates the open wound on her body. She doesn’t hear the footsteps getting closer, or even notice the closet doors opening until Sam and Dean are both kneeling in front of her, concern filling their eyes as they take in the sight of her sobbing into her knees and rocking back and forth. Her knuckles are white from how tightly she’s holding into the fabric of her pants. When Dean’s hands frame both sides of her cheeks, guiding her face up to meet their soft and concerned eyes, she flinches back, and only then does Sam notice the hammer lodged deep within his baby sister's shoulder.

“Fuck, Gracie.” He cusses lowly, scrambling closer to assess the physical damage while Dean tries to coax her through the emotional. He’s cradling her to his chest, reminding her to breathe with him, desperately trying to bring her back down to reality as she claws at her throat and weeps. “Hey, I need to get it out, okay? It’s gonna hurt like a bitch, but you’re gonna be fine. I need you to answer me, Gracie. You’ve lost a lot of blood, I need to hear your voice.” If it was any other circumstance, he wouldn’t have been so persistent to gain her attention, but he needs to make sure that she’s okay enough for him to do this. He reaches for one of the shirts hanging in Sari’s closet while he watches her, ripping it in half like it’s the easiest thing in the world, preparing to use it as a tourniquet of sorts until they can get her back to the motel to patch her up for real.

“Gracie girl, I need to hear you.” Dean mumbles softly, his fingers tapping at the side of her face when her eyes flutter closed. “Come on, sweetheart. Tell Sammy you’re okay.”

“G-Get it out.” Grace pleads with as much strength as she can muster, finally feeling like she can breathe again as the panic attack slips away into something of the past. “Please Sammy, it hurts.”

“Okay, okay. I’m gonna count to three, okay? And you’re gonna squeeze Dean’s hand as hard as you want.” Sam grips the hammer tightly, nodding at Dean that he’s ready whenever he is. He doesn't’ consult Grace, it doesn’t matter whether she’s ready or not, because he knows it's going to hurt like a bitch with or without the mental preparation. “One,” He doesn’t even get to two before he’s ripping the hammer out of her shoulder and tying the tourniquet around her. The young woman bellows in pain, her head thrown back on Dean’s shoulder while she squeezes his hand tightly. “I need you to move your arm. We need to make sure it didn’t tear a muscle.” He coaches roughly, knowing that if he was any softer with Grace she wouldn't actually register what he was saying.

Grace does as asked, wincing and whimpering through the entire ordeal, but eventually Sam’s content, and tells her she can put her arm down. She slumps against Dean’s chest, sobbing into him as she grips at his flannel tightly. Neither of her brothers have to ask to know that she’s not crying because of the pain, but because she’d been trapped in a closet with no escape, and this time she hadn’t even done something to deserve the punishment; not that any of the times John threw her in the closet was deserved, but point still stands that this was the last thing she’d expected to be subjected to today.

“Where’s Missouri?” Grace asked eventually, pulling herself away from Dean when she felt capable to move on and forward. She wiped at her cheeks with the hand that wasn’t connected to an injured shoulder, clearing away the tears that had fallen.

“Downstairs.” Dean informs, clambering to his feet when he realizes that Grace wasn’t willing to take another minute to collect herself. He offers her his hand and pulls her up to her feet when she grabs it. She rolls out her shoulder, groaning in pain, but she doesn’t let it slow her down. Believe it or not, she thinks she’s finished a hunt with worse injuries not inflicted upon her by monsters and spirits.

Grace grimaces when she sees the state of the kitchen, knowing there was no way that Jenny wouldn’t notice the damage to her kitchen table. The walls were one thing, but adding damage elsewhere was breaching unforgiving territory. She stalks over to one of the kitchen chairs, taking a seat as she feels woozy for a second. It hadn’t occurred to her how much blood she’d lost until she glanced down and found a trail of blood leading down to her fingers and even more staining the front of the shirt. Again she feels herself getting worked up, running the tip of her finger along the stark white lettering that still says Stanford, though now the letters are noticeably discolored.

“This was Jessica’s shirt.” She frowns more to herself than anyone else but Sam hears her as he approaches with a glass of apple juice, and sadly his lips quiver into a comforting smile. “Thanks.” She mutters tiredly, reaching out for the juice that she knows will replenish her blood. Learning that little hack had saved them from too many trips to the emergency room, but it wasn’t an immediate cure, and so even after she’d chugged the contents and shoved the glass into Sam’s waiting hands, she still found it hard to keep her head up and her vision clear.

“Are you sure this is over?” Sam questions after he’d placed the glass in the sink, coming back toward Grace with a bottle of water that he’d already cracked open. She sips it slowly, savoring the cold feeling washing across her tongue and throat.

Missouri nodded, “I’m sure.”

“It better be over.” Grace slurs from the kitchen chair, her head lulling to the side as her eyes become heavy. She fights to keep herself awake, taking another sip of the water and setting her eyes firmly on Sam.

“Why? Why do you ask?” Missouri turned to face Sam, concern flooding her features.

“No, never mind.” Sam sighs, shaking his head. “It’s nothing, I guess.”

Missouri didn’t have a chance to press Sam any further because the lights in the hallway were flickering to life the second he’d finished speaking, and soon Jenny’s voice trailed in from the front door. “Hello? We're home.” She announced, coming into the kitchen with Sari’s hand holding hers and Richie on her hip. Grace grimaced as she looked around, taking in the absolute destruction sight that had been made out of her kitchen. “What– What happened?”

“Hi. Sorry, um, we’ll pay for all of this.” Sam insisted out of instinct, despite the fact that they did not possess the funds to pay for everything they had damaged or entirely ruined. Their credit cards may be endless with the scams that John and Dean run, but their limits were well… limited.

“Don’t you worry. Dean’s gonna clean up this mess.” Missouri better amended the situation, and if Grace weren’t so lightheaded she would’ve laughed about how for once in his life he wasn’t being shown favoritism. “Well, what are you waiting for, boy? Get the mop. And don’t cuss at me.”

Dean did as asked – or demanded – and cleaned up the kitchen to the best of his abilities while Sam made sure Grace didn’t pass out. By the time Dean was helping Missouri hobble down the stairs, she felt better if only the slightest amount, but she knew that a long night of sleep would be the best remedy she could find. She was looking forward to passing out in the backseat of the Impala, already longing to feel the chilled leather beneath her skin.

She said goodbye to Missouri quickly, rushing toward the Impala once there was nothing else in her way. Grace Winchester was asleep before her brothers even got in the car.

“Dean!” Grace woke up with a jolt, groaning in pain when the tension of her muscles aggravated the wound on her arm that had yet to be correctly patched up. She looked around frantically before she realized that her brothers were clambering out of the car and rushing toward the house. She didn’t think twice about following after them, sheer adrenaline fueling her body as she somehow managed to catch up with them just as Sam passed through the threshold of the house.

“I’ll get Sari! You get Richie!” Sam yelled over the thumping of his heart, looking back at Grace who only nodded at the order. Her own heart was racing, but she pushed through the pain, taking the steps three at a time as she raced toward the little boys room.

She found the toddler standing up in his crib, sobbing with his arms reaching out in her direction, evidently reaching for his mother if his babbled cries of ‘Mama’ were any indication of who he wanted most. Grace’s heart sank in her chest, but she pushed through the feeling, reaching out to pick the little boy up and cradle him close to her chest.

“Shh, you’re okay, sweet boy. Everything’s okay. Nobody’s gonna hurt a hair on your little head, I promise.” She soothed the toddler to the best of her abilities, nearly crashing into Sam as he came flying out of Sari’s room. The little girl was in no better shape than her brother, but before Grace could call for her, try to be a person of clarity in the chaos, something was wrapping around her waist. “Sam! Richie! Get Richie!” She screamed as she was pulled backward, her arms letting go of the toddler with blind hope that her brother could move quick enough to catch him before he fell completely.

Her head must’ve hit the wall as she was dragged backwards, because the next thing she knew was that she was pinned against the cupboards in the kitchen by an invisible force and Sam was right beside her in the same predicament. Before she could do anything, she was flung against the opposite wall, her body crashing to the ground before that same force lifted her up again and flung her over to where Sam was pinned.

“Gracie! Sam!” She can hear Dean yelling, but at this point, she has no idea where the sound is coming from. Her head is throbbing, her shoulder is killing her, and every other inch of her body aches from being slammed against walls and the floor.

She whimpers in pain when a figure walks into the room, and just like Sari had mentioned on their first day in town, it was on fire. Her eyes widened, Missouri’s doubts about her mothers spirit being in the house coming back to her. “Gracie! Sam!” Dean’s voice is getting closer, and then he’s right in front of her and Sam with his shotgun raised. Grace’s eyes widen in panic, but no words come as she stares ahead at the figure she’s entirely certain is Mary Winchester.

“No, don’t! Don’t!” Sam, however, is able to find his voice, and he calls out to Dean frantically.

“Why?!” Their older brother calls, evidently not connecting the pieces that Grace and Sam can see plain as day. A tear falls down Grace’s face as she squints her eyes, trying to see through the constantly burning flames.

“Because I know who it is. I can see her now.” The flames around the figure burn brightly until they don’t burn at all, and perfectly clear can all three siblings see the spirit clearly.

“M-Mommy?” Grace cries softly, and Dean’s hand quivers as he slowly lowers the gun, staring straight at the woman he’d made peace with never being able to see again in this lifetime.

“Mom.” It’s not a question. He knows that this is Mary, and his heart stutters in his chest as she walks toward him with a soft smile.

“Dean.” She hums simply, taking in all of his features. She doesn’t linger long, she doesn’t have the time to linger at all, but she can’t pass up the fleeting seconds she has to truly take in the sight of her children. “Gracie, my girl. My sweet sweet girl. Oh, my baby.” She reaches out, like she wants to caress Grace’s face and feel her skin one last time, but she pulls away before she makes contact, looking to Sam whose lips quiver as he memorizes Mary. “Sam.” She hums, “I’m sorry.”

“F-For what?” Sam stutters, and Grace’s eyes plead with Mary to stay with them, come back to them, but the woman avoids her gaze and instead of answering, turns on her heels and walks toward the center of the room.

“You, get out of my house. And let go of my kids.” Grace shakes her head, knowing where this is headed, but her protests are futile. Mary is engulfed by a bright flame again, but this time, the flames evaporate into the ceiling.

“Mom! Mommy!” She cries out, fighting against the invisible restraints until she falls to the floor, the force of the spirit no longer around to keep her pinned to the cabinet. She clambers to her feet, rushing to Dean. She digs her face into his chest, sobbing without constraint for the umpteenth time since driving over Kansas state lines. His hand comes to hold the back of her head while the other holds the center of her back. Her fingers curl into his jacket, holding tightly to it as she weeps. After twenty years, she can finally say she met her mother. But, she can also say she watched her mother die after she’d already been gone. Somehow, Grace thinks this hurts worse than not remembering Mary at all.

“Now it's over.”

The very next morning, the Winchesters are getting ready to head out. Dean and Grace stand on the front lawn of their childhood home, finally getting a hold of those items Jenny mentioned finding when they’d first introduced themselves. Dean holds onto a stack of pictures that none of them had ever seen, but Grace holds onto a small teddy bear. Her name is embroidered on the bottom of the right foot in the sweetest pink thread, and her heart stutters as she realizes that Mary had been the one to personalize this bear for her. She hasn’t taken her eyes off of it since Jenny had come out of the house holding him by his belly, and she doesn’t think it’ll ever leave her possession. The only other thing she had from those first six months of her life was the blanket she’d been wrapped up in when John carried her out of the house. Twenty years later, it still lives in her duffle bag, though it has acquired a couple of blood stains and rips since its prime.

“Thanks for these.” Dean looks up at Jenny once he’d gone through all of the pictures, his smile and tone sincere as he curls his fingers around the stack possessively.

“Don’t thank me. They’re yours.” Jenny shakes her head, smiling fondly back at Dean and Grace. “Thank you.”

“I told you I wasn’t going to let anymore kids lose their mom in that house. I meant it.” Grace forced a smile, still not feeling entirely herself or even close to functioning, but that had never stopped her from completing a hunt before. She had to see this through, and the finish line was finally in sight.

“Take care of yourselves.” Jenny patted Dean on the shoulder, giving Grace one last maternal smile before she was walking back toward the house where Sari and Richie were inside eating breakfast at the table – that still sported holes from various utensils being plunged into it.

Grace held onto the handle of the Impala as she watched Sam get closer, having said his final goodbyes to Missouri. She doesn’t want to talk about everything that happened, and neither do the boys. She doesn’t know if she’ll ever be ready to talk about what happened here.

“Don’t you kids be strangers!” Missouri calls from the front yard, and Grace’s lips wrinkle into a weak smile.

“We won’t.” Dean assures before they’re slipping into the Impala. She has a tight grip on her teddy bear, holding it close to her chest as she slumps against the side of the car, her eyes closing out of instinct. It’s not five minutes later that she’s sound asleep, hoping to god the next hunt doesn’t tear her apart completely.

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x ofc #dean winchester x sister!reader #sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x ofc #sam winchester x sister!reader #supernatural #john winchester #mary winchester #series: love was the law

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thewertsearch · 7 months ago

Text

Ask Comp 12/8

@williamjakespeare asked: One of the recent posts concludes that the circumstances around Vriska's god tiering were "so much worse than anything I thought was going to happen" and I'm curious. What exactly did you think was going to happen?

Back before I knew how God Tier ascension worked, my theory was that Vriska's Quest Bed might grant her access to a special dream moon, and that Tavros's presence there might throw some sort of spanner into the works. I wasn't sure what kind of spanner, and my theories were very vague.

Vriska's a huge taskmaster, and I thought she might have given him an instruction that he was unwilling or unable to carry out. Like, maybe she told him to leave her God Tier Moon, and he was unwilling to abandon her to a fate he didn't understand.

I guess I was right. In the end, she did give him an instruction he couldn't carry out.

Anonymous asked: For the kid who was the most vocal about her 'distaste' for their guardian, having Mom be the reason that Rose snaps is actually very sweet, in a sad way. ~DJ

The above line from Rose implies that she had a lot more affection for her mother than she was letting on.

Their relationship was complicated, but if Rose viewed her as a sister, I think there had to have been some camaraderie between the two. We just never saw it on-panel, because the narrative began on the most stressful day of Mom Lalonde's life.

@elkian asked: So, fun fact about that time John joked about rescuing Rose from the Broodfesther Throes and you were going "yes it's a joke BUT IT'S ALSO SERIOUS JOHN!!!": Hussie's author note for that page is almost verbatim your reaction. Homestuck is as serious as it is silly and typically both at once.

Every time Hussie and I share the same thought, a subtle chill runs down my spine.

@gl1tchypyr0 asked: In regards to the thing about LOWAA potentially corrupting Eridan, itd be a little smart to remember what Sollux said in his conversation with Terezi about a prophet has to go blind to earn their stripes or how an angel earns its wings, Sollux states that 'angels are terrible feathery demons that paradox space uses to usher in the end' and Eridan was actually killing them even if he wasn't Supposed to. If you really think about it I actually kinda find it sad? If he was already a troubled individual Before Sgrub and then was on a planet of 'terrible feathery demons' that whisper prophecies in his earfins for an entire month that he was made to feel he Had to kill, honestly it makes me nervous imagining just how many doomed timelines there are where Eridan snapped far earlier. Not to mention the fact he's also on the Blue Team ie Derse players ie most susceptible to waking up in his sleep and seeing tentacles and eyeballs staring back at him (not that he wouldn't be /used to that/ back on alternia with his job of feeding glybgolyb so Feferi wouldn't have to). Not really defending eridan but just, food for thought kinda? About how LOWAA might have affected him enough for Doc Scratch to bring up such a hypothetical. The idea that Eridan was already pretty bad before the inevitable Sgrub trauma and then LOWAA made thinks /worse/.

Oh, don't get it twisted - Eridan's just as much of tragedy as any of the other trolls. He's certainly written to be less sympathetic, but he didn't deserve to be raised in the Alternian Empire. Just like Vriska and Equius, he could have been a much better person, if only he was raised in a less violent and oppressive culture.

Of course, he could still be an asshole if he was born on Earth - but at least he'd have a chance to be better. Alternia stacks the deck against you in ways that simply aren't fair.

@galaxa-13 asked: It is very satisfying watching you pick apart everything Doc Scratch says without playing his game. Rose wishes she could, but unfortunately she is a child and not as smart as she pretends to be. Usually it's fun to watch people theorize because of what they don't know, so it's extra fun when someone as smart as you doesn't have the pieces I already do. Just chortling to myself, "Oh ho ho, just you wait!" @elkian asked: I may have sent this before but I ADORE your Doc Scratch dissertations. What few liveblogs (and fandom during/after the run) I've followed have other strengths and focuses, so these moments where you stop everything to shred his dialogue to see if fhere's even a GRAIN of truth are novel and absolutely fascinating. I think you've done the most thorough analyses of any 1 of his convos let alone all of them and I'm here for it. Rip that shady motherfucker apart! :D

Despite myself, I am enjoying puzzling out the true meaning of what he says. I've just got to remember that he is fully capable of lying.

I do think, on balance, that there is some hidden meaning to his words - it's just hard to find. His '50% chance of ascending' statement is definitely foreshadowing something, I just can't figure out what. I think it has something to do with the reboot session, but I'm waiting to learn more about the reboot before I really start theorizing about it.

Anonymous asked: In case the 7 Gates haven’t been fully explained yet — the Gates over a player’s house are all either entry (transport to somewhere on their planet) or exit (destination of a gate on the planet of the previous player in the chain). Using John as example: Build to gate 1, which takes him somewhere on LOWAS. Find gate 2 elsewhere on LOWAS, this will take him to the matching gate over Rose’s house — build up to her gate 3, which will lead to somewhere on LOLAR, then find the planet’s gate 4, etc.

Here's my old interpretation of the Gate system, from way back in Act 4. I'm fully in agreement with you about John's path here - the problem is that when you use it to extrapolate Rose's path, things start to fall apart.

See, this ordering method implies that in a four-player chain, your own Seventh Gate is located on the Land preceding yours, rather than your own. This means that Rose's Seventh Gate is the one that got John killed on LOWAS - the one which leads to his Denizen. It additionally implies that John's Seventh Gate should have been on Jade's Land instead. It's all very confusing.

Anonymous asked: Something I love about how this god-tier immortality system is described, however it works, is that "remaining neutral" will PROBABLY keep you alive… but when you think about it, remaining neutral means not making a REAL DIFFERENCE. As a God, if you want to make a difference in the world around you -- good or bad -- you have to be willing to stake your life on it.

True! It's an interesting balancing mechanism, where each God Tier has to decide whether their life is more valuable than their personal agency. Gods who avoid Heroic and Just situations are almost invincible, but they're also completely ineffectual.

I'd obviously try to game the system somehow, but the vague, subjective definitions of Heroic and Just make this a difficult system to game.

@spyril4132 asked: with the reveal of the heroic-just system, there's now a reason you might not want to god tier immediately: sacrificing one of your selves for a heroic cause and then doing what aradia did (but intentionally)

Good point. Although, I'm not sure I'd want to rely on the Quest Slab for my resurrection - at least, not yet. We don't really know the rules are, and how they differ from normal Quest Bed rules.

Anonymous asked: "I don't really care if Paradox Space sanctions his actions - he needs to be taken down, and if that upsets the natural order, then it's time for a new natural order." i think you for sure lean more lifeways on the life/doom player axis lol. oh, the laws of the multiverse say death is inevitable? well, that fucking sucks and i hate it, so i'm gonna wedge myself into the cracks and loopholes and *make* it evitable one day at a goddamn time, life finds a way motherfucker.

Life finds a way, motherfucker!

I actually find both Life and Doom fairly interesting, as Aspects go. I think, at this point, I'm committed to giving one to my kidsona, and the other to my trollsona.

If another Aspect ends up catching my eye, we'll have to start workshopping a Carapaciansona!

Anonymous asked: I think you got it kinda twisted what's going on with Rose. Yes she is slightly corrupted by the Horrorterrors powers/boons and Scratch's… Sheer Existence. But in her mind, she's doing this to Save her session, so if she does go God Tier and gets killed, her death wouldn't be Just, it would probably be Heroic. As she probably would've died tryong to save her session, which would cancel out the corruption from Scratch and Horrorterrors. Either way she still dies, but it's the difference in Why she dies that's important. […]

See, this is the whole problem, isn't it? These terms are incredibly subjective.

I personally think Rose's attempt to save her session is extremely Heroic - but Skaia couldn't possibly approve of her assault on the game, so I don't think it would cancel out her Horrorterror corruption. Sburb itself is probably the last word on what qualifies as a Just death, so I think that's what she'd get tagged as, if she died as a God Tier in the Green Sun's explosion.

I'm also not sure if getting tagged as Heroic would cancel out a Just tag. They're not necessarily opposites - Vriska, for example, is designed to have a controversial alignment, and could easily die in a way that counts as both.

@ben-guy asked: Small correction, you referred to the Alternian empire as "intergalactic" when it only exists within one galaxy as far as I'm aware. Yes, kind of a silly nitpick, and one that I could be wrong about, but I happen to enjoy thinking about the comparative scale of space faring societies lol. If there is a quote contradicting that, I'd like to see it! Pretty sure it's merely a galactic empire tho :)

Nah, that's fair - that's the kind of nitpick I'd point out, too.

Galaxy, singular. I think I parsed the Empire as intergalactic because massively faster-than-light travel is clearly possible in this setting, via time manipulation. We don't actually know if Alternia had access to time manipulation before Sgrub - but Earth seemingly did, so who knows?

@abacusdictator asked: Found your liveblog a few days ago and furiously binged it. Happy to find another Homestuck liveblog! Especially one I can see happen in-progress! I hope you enjoy the rest of the story!

Thanks - and you're certainly coming in at an interesting time!

Anonymous asked: Scratch "chooses not to lie," but he also has the privileged position of knowing in advance that Rose will misunderstand what the Scratch is, leading to her doing what he wants. If he knew that not lying wouldn't get him what he wants, or even if he didn't know for certain that it would, would he lie? If so, that basically means it's pointless to try to figure out his true meanings, because if you succeed, he'll have retroactively lied about it anyway.

Yeah, this is pretty much my take.

Does it really matter if he 'doesn't lie' if he can foresee all the truths that will mislead you? When you're playing at his level, the actual truth of your statements barely matters.

@skelekingfeddy asked: to my knowledge this has never been commented on by hussie, but i feel like doc scratch doesnt lie in part because he was made from the cueball. its a fortune telling device that predicts the future with remarkable precision and accuracy. you wouldnt expect it to lie, would you? its just that the difference between scratch and the cueball is that he can pick and choose WHICH truths to reveal at which moments. (his penchant for jokes thus probably comes from cal (‘haa haa hee hee hoo hoo’) i feel like him never lying is also a way to feed his own ego. its a self-imposed(!!!!) restriction, and yet despite it he effortlessly plays everyone like fiddles. and he KNOWS it. he CHOOSES never to lie. he VOLUNTARILY hands the people he manipulates an advantage on a goddamn silver platter, and he STILL wins. ‘Isn't it funny how during our various matches, I can tell you what my moves will be in advance, and still win?’ hes so fucking smug. what a pompous dipshit. i love him Anonymous asked: I think that when Scratch say he don't lie, he mean it, and not because of some vilainous valor but out of sheer ego. Scratch is prideful, he love beating other by "playing with cards face up" and tricking them with exact word, he doesn't tell the truth because it's "honorable", he tell the truth because he doesn't need to lie to win.

Also, this. He's just a smug fuck.

Do we know for sure if the cueball is always truthful, actually? Scratch heavily implies it here, but he's only stating it as a hypothetical.

Anonymous asked: Scratch is like a fae, he doesn't lie but you better watch out how he word what he say.

I'd be so screwed against the fae. Not because I couldn't parse their statements, but because I'm only halfway competent with human social customs, let alone weird alien ones.

@manorinthewoods asked: Honestly, I think it's great for his character if Scratch is actually completely dead of emotion inside, possibly even thoughts, and is just near-mindlessly carrying out the necessary parts of his role in the story so that his desired outcome is achieved. He's omniscient, he doesn't need to think. On the other hand, he does seem to have experienced genuine emotion, on occasions… ~LOSS (24/7/24)

A pseudo-omniscient character, mindlessly following the optimal path to their ultimate goal? This smells suspiciously like a Certified Contessa Moment...

Anonymous asked: In the trolls game all the trolls got to see and speak to their lusi after they died because they put them in the sprites. Meaning Gamzees dad coming back wouldn’t get him sober. Ideally Gamzee would be able to interact with his dad way more then he ever had in the past because his dad now had to guid him as his sprite.

Fair point. Although, we know that prototyping tends to affect your personality, and shifts your priorities towards guiding your Player through the game.

Goatsprite's sprite knowledge might have informed him that Gamzee needed to be on Sopor Slime, or game would become unwinnable.

@heliotropopause asked: "Well, no! That’s the problem! The cueball’s omniscience is completely redundant, because the MEOW code already contains an omniscience gene! According to the Scratch loredump, any ‘intelligent’ host for the MEOW code will be granted near-omniscience. Scratch didn’t need the cueball," I think it's worth considering the what exactly he meant with that- it seems perfectly plausible that the teleportation-based powerset established for bequerel would make an intelligent agent very good at observation, either by physically hopping around, or by teleporting light around to see distant places, or by sending out telekinetic "feelers"; we know bec has the capability to separately manipulate individual objects in physical contact from afar. None of this would give him knowledge of the future, or of physically disjoint spaces like the human session, so the cueball is not at all redundant.

It's possible. See, this is another situation where we're really being hampered by our small sample size. We've only seen two First Guardians, and only one of them has been a 'standard' First Guardian, unaltered by HONK. As such, we don't really know how First Guardian clairvoyance is supposed to function.

Another Guardian with human-level intelligence is desperately needed, for science. It's almost enough to make me want the Scratched Guardian of Earth to be made from a human...

@manorinthewoods asked: As an alternative explanation for the double-omniscience problem, one could say that the cueball, in being used to create Scratch, retroactively and conceptually gained his omniscience - so effectively, any use of a cueball allows you to attune to Scratch's awareness (as long as he's alive, perhaps?). This would subsequently imply that First Guardians are all linked to their components - for instance, there would be some link between Bec and all dogs, or specifically Halley. ~LOSS (23/7/24)

As this ask points out, I might just be drawing the causal arrows in the wrong direction. If the cueball is omniscient because of Scratch, rather than the other way round, then there's really only one root cause for his clairvoyance.

I'm not sure why it would work like that, but I do like the idea of Colonel Sassacre running around the early 1900s with a suspiciously powerful dog.

@manorinthewoods asked: The link between 'Skaia's final gate of defense' and 'first to find Alternia' is something I just didn't notice (because I didn't really pay attention to the words and botched my experience by not watching the Flashes), but it would imply, to me, that the gates run in reverse order, Skaia to World - first meteor in, last meteor out. This would mean that the moon which dropped on Jade was the last meteor to hit […]Skaia. ~LOSS (23/7/24)

Hey, good catch!

Jade's meteor was the last to arrive on Earth. By this logic, wouldn't it have been the first thing to leave the session, rather than the last?

That makes a sort of sense, actually. A meteor this enormous would dwarf the entire Incipisphere, so the game would probably want it out of the picture as soon as possible.

@manorinthewoods asked: You seem to have run with the interpretation that all First Guardians run on the same fundamental genetic code, identical to MEOW but using different letters. Not really how I thought of it - I interpret that every FG's code is different, although I also didn't think too hard about the FGs. No reason that they'd necessarily all have to have the same genetic code - after all, Bec's a dog and Scratch's a Scratch. You'd only really need a single gene to code for Green Sun powers… ~LOSS (23/7/24)

It does say they share a genetic sequence, rather than an entire genome. Becquerel presumably contains some dog DNA - the 'host' - which is absent in Scratch, so their genome can't be identical.

Unlike Becquerel, Scratch's hosts were entirely synthetic. They didn't have DNA - which, to me, implies that his entire genome is just an amalgamation of the BR8K H34DS T1CK T0CK HONK sequences. His DNA is just the First Guardian sequence, plus whatever is in HONK.

...what the hell is in HONK, then? If it's DNA, it has to come from some living thing, and I have a horrible feeling that Gamzee spliced his own DNA into the sequence. Why else would he call it HONK?

@skelekingfeddy asked: ‘…the fucking bow-tie! He’s wearing Cal’s Alternian clothes! The proof’s been staring us in the face this entire time, and we were none the wiser!’ look at what regular cal is wearing underneath his blue ‘CAL’ shirt :)

My guy's been pulling the long con.

@morganwick asked: "#but now that i have an antimatter pellet I can feed it to my bees. they can create nuclear waste honey without all the fission rigmarole" Minecraft, Sollux style. (Or maybe Minecraft, Problem Sleuth style?)

Sollux would be a Productive Bees specialist, wouldn't he? That, alongside every computer mod in existence.

@elkian asked: Sorry if I'm the 80th person to mention this but Vriska's 8r8k could also refer to the act of shooting the cue ball at the group of pool balls at the start of a game, known as a "break". @ben-guy asked: Fun fact: In pool terms, the "8r8k" actually refers to the opening shot that sends all the balls flying everywhere. Additional fun fact: The game of pool has a history of being used as a metaphor for causality, which lends some interesting metaphorical weight to Doc Scratch as a cue ball.

Oh, that's true - pool balls are often used as an analogy when talking about causality. Surprising that that's never occurred to me before.

I like to think that when the Felt storm a rival gang's lair as a group, they call their maneuver The Break.

@manorinthewoods asked: Oh my god, Aradia uses Jack to go to the Green Sun. That's such a cool detail. It's so fast, I didn't even see it. To be fair, although the timing is ridiculously impressive, Aradia is both a god and specifically a god of time. Although it's never stated, perfect timing is an obvious power for Time God Tiers to have, which does mean that Aradia would be a half-Flechette. ~LOSS (18/7/24)

And Kanaya's a fashion designer, too. Aradia x Kanaya when?

Anonymous asked: Hey, unfortunately the reqs list link seems to be janked out on my mobile client so I hope this is ok but if you haven't already heard of it I highly highly reccomend Jon Bois' 17776: What Football Will Look Like In the Future It's about football in the same sort of way that homestuck is about video games

Love that story - and I still have to read the sequel, actually!

Anonymous asked: Forwarding another question from the person without a Tumblr account: ~DJ. [I think the change in Equis and Nepeta's behavior is explained by "being together and solving problems together for a long time was great for Equius' and Nepeta's relationship" and "the destruction of Alternia helped Equius realize some facets of Alternian culture he believed where false" (because unlike Eridan he is able to change his mind about stuff like this). - RM]

I really want to see what Equius and Nepeta got up to for a month, as well as all the other trolls. It'd be great to get an 'untold stories of Homestuck' anthology at some point - and hopefully, that's something we'll see in some of Homestuck's tie-in media.

Anonymous asked: I’ve been thinking about Bec prototyping himself and I think I’ve got an answer that works for me - not necessarily the whole answer or the only answer, but I think it’s got something. Basically, Bec knows he can’t / shouldn’t get rid of the meteor entirely (he came down in a meteor that built the frog ruins, so even if we’re just going off what he’s experienced we can say that he probably on some level understands that these meteors landing is important) but he also understands he doesn’t have the type of power or the finesse with that power to only delay it until Jade can take the shot. After all, he could’ve just teleported the living room junk to a different part of the house, but he sent it into deep space because his doggy brain can only deal in absolutes when it comes to perceived danger to his best friend, and the only power we’ve seen First Guardians use (to my recollection) that would in any way help with slowing the meteor is teleportation. He can’t reliably teleport it back only far enough that it will keep falling, but won’t yet land, and he doesn’t have anything else at his disposal - except becoming a sprite, who we’ve seen use beam attacks, which allows Bec to push the meteor back as a delaying measure. Don’t know if he knew it would help so specifically, but even so, I can see Bec understanding it as the only option he has that isn’t either ‘send thing as far away as possible’ or ‘let thing squish most beloved person’. I do think the weakest parts of this theory are What Bec Understands, but puzzling through that devilbeast’s thoughts is hardly a new impossibility. If nothing else, we can all understand that he did this to save Jade, because he loves her, and we love him for that. -Megido (am a new anon, just spent the past couple days catching up and have enjoyed this liveblog immensely)

I think this theory is a good one, and Hussie's comments support it.

The meteor needed to be destroyed in a very specific way for the timeline to retain its integrity, and Bec should instinctively know that, born from Sburb as he is.

Anonymous asked: There are three lenses I think you can view troll romance through: the Xenopsychology lens, the Propaganda lens, and the Parody lens. The Xenopsychology lens is that trolls do in fact experience alien emotions which cannot be felt by humans. It's not just that troll society chooses to categorize the same types of feelings and relationships that humans have differently; these are genuinely unique and original emotions, like a new color that a human couldn't imagine. Describing kismesissitude as hatemance or rivalry or abuse, or moirallegiance as bromance or besties or queer platonic partnership, or auspisticism as third wheeling or mom friending or refereeing are all fundamentally incorrect, because there is no human analogue. You can take this a step further and say that matespritship is also fundamentally different from human romance, even if it appears similar. Therefore all attempts to analyze or write troll romance should be forays into xenofiction, attempting to understand things within a nonhuman framework. The Propaganda lens is that actually troll emotions aren't really any different than human ones, but the quadrant system benefits the hemocasteist militaristic empire by keeping trolls divided enough to become either fucked up killers or submissive victims by the time they reach maturity, but have the minimum support structure needed to actually reach maturity. Kismesissitude is fundamentally unhealthy, auspisticism serves as a counterbalance to keep everyone from killing each other, and moirallegiance serves to prevent trolls from having multiple close friendships or from being fully open with their matesprit by arbitrarily sequestering who it’s appropriate to have certain positive interactions with. None of this is really romance except the one that’s analogous to human romance, but trolls are raised to buy into the system under threat of death. It’s hard to form community and contemplate uprising if everyone confines the meaningful relationships in their life to like 4-5 other people, half of which are based on negative interactions. Also it’s a commentary on how human rules about love and relationships and where the platonic ends and romantic or sexual starts are socially enforced rather than wholly natural and can be arbitrary and unhealthy. Anonymous asked: The Parody lens is that this is all Hussie making fun of fandom shipping tropes. All sufficiently devoted rivalries are actually romantic love. All sufficiently strong friendships are actually romantic love. These two are so hopelessly oblivious to the fact that they actually want to get with the guy they hate, or that the other person they think just wants to be friends actually feels the same way, they need a third party to push them together. (Okay this one doesn’t work because auspisticism seems to basically be the opposite of that? Maybe auspisticism is supposed to be like, contrived elimination of competing romantic options to assure an OTP. Idk if anyone really knows what auspisticism is supposed to be, least of all Hussie.) Also because this was early 2010’s Hussie, there’s maybe a certain level on which trolls being societally obliged to polyamory and bisexuality is also making fun of shippers, although if it was I think Hussie turned around pretty quickly to actually being cool about it. Much like how light is a wave, and a particle, and a ray, all of these are true at different times. This is because the nature of Hussie's writing is that even when things are serious business, they are also jokes. And this is also why the Homestuck fandom will never agree on the correct way to understand and depict the quadrants.

Great breakdown. As you could probably predict, I lean a lot more towards the Propaganda lens, with a healthy dose of Parody mixed in.

The Xenopsychology lens isn't necessarily untrue - it's just that, as I've discussed before, the trolls read as extremely human to me. I honestly believe that if you raised a human on Alternia, they'd probably be compelled to form the same quadrants as everyone else.

I once got an ask stating that, according to Hussie, each of the quadrants are meant to be exaggerated versions of human relationship dynamics. I'd really like to check out that full quote, so if anyone's got a link, send it my way!

#asks #full liveblog #act 5.2

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thesweetestdevotion · 5 months ago

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Hii can you please do the same reading for BTS taehyung future spouse as you were planned to do for jimin and jungkook. Thank you.

hey!

BTS Taehyung Future Spouse:

Dice: Mercury, Virgo, 5th House

Tarot:

Personality: Page of Cups, Ace of Coins Reversed, The World, Temperance Reversed, The Devil, The Wheel of Fortune, King of Swords Reversed, Page of Wands

They could be younger than him. They seem very fulfilled though, like they have it all even if I'm getting they could be struggling with financial abundance now. Theres a very strong sense of inner abundance in them, even when the material world isn't reflecting that. They could have dealt with or experienced poverty or have lacked the opportunities that many others have been afforded. They could also struggle with direction and picking one path to go down on. They seem to have seen lots of ups and downs so they could feel like any choice they've made hasn't worked out no matter what they did, so now they detached from the material world a bit. Which is why i think they've had the time to cultivate such a rich inner abundance, this reminds me of cinderella lol. A person who has struggled a lot but maintained a deep understanding of kindness and inner beauty, but their material world doesn't match it as of yet. I think they could've dealt with many dark energies before, lots of negative events and people. They seem like theyre able to look past them, they dont hold any grudges tbh, they could be highly spiritual to be honest. Maybe religious in some way, I’m not getting organized religion vibes though, more like a belief in some higher power. They’ve could’ve struggled with overindulgence or overspending at some point, maybe they’ve been too unbalanced with the energy they give to others vs the energy they give to themselves and their own growth, elder sibling vibes lol. Right now they could be trying to manifest or wish for better opportunities so that they can move on to something else more outwardly abundant. The Cinderella vibes are so strong here, i keep thinking of JTs City Cinderella album and also Cardi B, both women struggled a lot before they got the chance to make something out of their innate talents. Very humble and could be a strong creative force if they want to, they seem so sweet hehe.

Career: Six of Cups, The Star, Ten of Swords Reversed, Ten of Cups, Six of Coins, Queen of Coins Reversed, The Chariot

I think this person could work with children? or families I'm hearing, something about nurture and family structures. Family therapist, professional nanny, caregiver, even a children's book writer. Im honestly getting they're a jack of all trades. I just keep seeing barbie and all her jobs hehe so maybe this person doesn't have one specific career field. They could work at a nonprofit, or even be a teacher. Im also getting they have the potential to be in the public eye in the future, i just heard "they would make a good celebrity" lol maybe they will get notoriety once they establish themselves more, or maybe after their marriage to taehyung. This could push them into the public eye, and I'm seeing they could be very good at handling it, even if they aren't used to it at all as of now. They like to take opportunities as they come and they sort of collect skills for fun! they just love to explore the world to be honest, they might have many different dream careers that they could definitely be good at, but as of now they're not going after any of them. They have a very childlike spirit, and they feel full of potential and energy. like i said they could be younger than taehyung, which makes sense with this energy. They don't easily get bogged down by struggle or stress, so I'm seeing they're fit to do so many different jobs and be successful. I think they’ve had stressful jobs in the past so they’re kinda good at handling it, it would take a lot to stress them. As of now though they could be in between jobs or just trying to see what their next steps could be. They seem chill about it though, not much can get this person down hehe.

Their Relationship: Five of Wands, Judgement Reversed, Eight of Coins, King of Cups, Death, Knight of Wands, Queen of Swords, Ten of Coins

I feel like their relationship will cause so much drama 😭. People will want to insert their opinions on taehyungs FS and i see a mixed bag of public perception of them. I honestly feel like a lot of fights will happen, people will have many different sides and some will fight in support of them and others opposed to them. Honestly this kinda gives me the impression that his partner does not fit into Korean culture in some way, and this will cause some tumultuous backlash. However in private their relationship will be very grounded, I honestly think neither of them gaf lolll. They’re focused on building a life together. This part of the reading reminds me of the other reading i did on taehyung here. I think their relationship will look exactly like the ‘as a husband’ part of the reading lol so cute. Honestly teahyung gives me the vibe that he’d look for someone who could fulfill that role and nothing else so this makes a lot of sense. It’s very romantic and also intimate and fiery hehe. They could both have very apparent tempers and could be that one couple that’s always arguing but i dont see it being bad lol just that they tend to butt heads. I honestly think they’d tussle just for fun hehe, they like the adrenaline and the excitement. They seem excited to build a life together and they may spend a lot of time strategizing and planning things. They honestly seem like such a good couple, they sort of work as one unit. Sorta traditional as well, and very family oriented so they may plan for children very early on. This relationship is not going to fit people's expectations tbh, idk why im getting so much info on that part of their relationship but it feels very relevant here. at first it will not be easy to navigate for them, but their both stubborn and driven as hell lmaoo they could be cardinal sign heavy in their synastry. They want to make it work no matter what comes at them.

How They’d Meet: Two of Swords Reversed, Five of Swords, The High Priestess, Five of Coins, Two of Wands, Seven of Wands, Knight of Coins Reversed, Six of Swords, Page of Swords, King of Wands, Nine of Cups

I don’t think they’ve met yet, but maybe they have connected spiritually, they could be unknowingly manifesting each other at the moment. Swang by JT(her again??) just came up. I also just heard “he ain’t my type…” LOL 😭 i think this person might not expect this meeting to happen, It could happen while they’re working or just busy dealing with other things and they’re like ‘ugh… not something else occurring’. One or both of them could have travelled to a different place, maybe for work. There’s a foreign energy here, so they could not be from Korea tbh. Not sure from where but they both seem ‘foreign’ to each other in some way. They could be wary of each other at first but i see someone, probably taehyung, saying something. This person is not feeling him though 😭 they’re busyyy, Idk if they could’ve started a new job and are focused on that, but they seem to want to recuperate some losses. They chasing that bag lol they think they don’t have time for romance. They could be a little stressed about it, or worried about another situation simultaneously. They seem kinda sad to be honest!! Im seeing there is a little interest though but they seem indecisive about it, taehyung was wary at first but then was driven to start communicating with them. They might not be each other’s current type but something will draw them to each other, especially taehyung he’s like a moth to a flame hehe. I think his person will eventually give in lol, but they’re not easy to get!! They sizing him up the moment he approaches, rip taehyung good luck cause they don’t play around!!!

These two are such a roller coaster ride, they the messiest couple I’ve read for so far 😭. Im rooting for them all the way though!! Hope you guys like this one hehe.

#tarot requests #tarot asks #kpop tarot #bts future spouse #taehyung bts #taehyung tarot #tarot readings #Bts fs

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theresattrpgforthat · 1 year ago

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Hi! I'd like to run a game that's Jane Austen-esque or a political/social drama with fantasy elements. Think A Court of Fey and Flowers, except I don't want to subscribe to their channel so I haven't actually seen it. Fairy settings in particular would be appreciated! Thank you in advance

THEME: Political and Social Drama

Hello, I think I have a really fun collection of options for you to take a peek at. We’ve got fairies, we’ve got secrets, and we’ve got drama!

Fey Court Chaos, by Mabbly.

Fey aristocrats party the equinox away. You have been invited by the most prestigious monarchs of this wild magical land. Parlay with potential allies, humiliate your enemies, & impress those worth impressing–but avoid getting kicked out yourself!

Fey Court Chaos is a party-based tabletop role-playing game designed to let you escalate a royal ball into dramatic highs and lows. You will need a pool of dice or coins to play. Any kind will do, but the fancier the better!

This is a game about trying to make a name for yourself while possibly ruining the status of your companions. You’ll wager points of Reputation every time you do something risky, with the risks rising depending on the status of the person you’re interacting with. Success means a rise in reputation or learning a juicy secret. Failure means losing someone’s favour, or even giving one of your own secrets away! If you love fantasy faerie settings, this game gives you all the basics, and has advice for the game runner as well. You should definitely check it out!

The 147th Annual Necromancer’s Ball, by Meghan Cross.

You are cordially invited…

The 147th Necromancer's Ball is a one page TTRPG about necromancy and feeling fancy for a GM and 3-6 players played with a single d6.

You are necromancers attending The 147th Necromancer's Ball, dressed to the nines with your familiars in tow. You are ready to have a wonderful time, but more than that you are ready to show your rival once and for all that you are better than them by displaying your social prowess (and maybe even winning Necromancer of the Year.)

But not everything goes according to plan when a party crasher shows up to ruin the evening for everyone - and it is up to you to stop them and save the party!

This is a game all about being dramatic as fuck and also petty as fuck. You can roll Necromancy when you want to do magic or command the undead, and you roll Feeling Fancy when you engage in social entanglements or navigate the ball. Showing that you’re the Necromancer of the Year won’t be easy, especially once a party crasher shows up to complicate things - and possibly steal your chances of winning!

If you love silly games, as well as taking time to describe just how drop-dead (pardon the pun) gorgeous you look, this might be your game.

Avalon Society, by Martian Machinery.

Avalon Society is a game about courtly love and intrigue, and the conflict between passion and duty. You'll play knights, lords, ladies, upstarts, pretenders, unknowns, or possibly a changeling or a sorcerer. Pull swords out of stones, break curses, ascend to the round table, duel your rivals, or even fall in love with them. It’s up to you.

Avalon Society is a setting created for Good Society, which is the game of social intrigue, and in fact, the game that helped build A Court of Fae and Flowers! Good Society takes place in the same time as Jane Austen’s novels, but Avalon Society replaces character roles and family backgrounds in order to represent an Arthurian story. The court also shifts seasonally, which feels very reminiscent of a fairy court. The biggest downside - you also have to buy Good Society in order to use this supplement.

Townhouse Dracula, by Tenbear.

You have the opportunity to attend a dinner party at the one and only Townhouse Dracula. Here you will vie for Dracula’s favour, which includes eternal life and power beyond your imagination.

To decide who gains this power Dracula puts party guests through a gauntlet of past memories. Guests do their best to impress Dracula and convince them that they would be an asset to have in the Dracula lineage.

Townhouse Dracula presents the players with scenarios that their characters will have to navigate, trying to piece together Dracula’s memories when they might not have all the answers.

This is first and foremost an improv game, so it’s good for people who like coming up with pieces of a story on the fly. You’ll get tokens as rewards for being funny, clever, bold, kind, etc. At the end of the game, you’ll tally your score and determine whether or not you become part of Dracula’s lineage. If you like the mysterious allure of vampires and want to stretch your storytelling muscles, you might want to check out this game.

Tax Cuts and Pixie Dust, by Weird Blue Yonder.

The home of a sordid assortment of terrible woodland spirits doing terrible things in a desperate bid to sit atop the Fairy Throne.

You are those woodland spirits, and election season is just around the corner…

Tax Cuts and Pixie Dust is probably the most political game on this list. It uses pretty standard faerie tropes - you can be an elf, a leprechaun, a banshee… even a giant! All of you are supposed to be part of the same party, but you all secretly want the throne!

This is a game about dirty politicians, with the humour and camp turned up to allow you to get really ridiculous with it. The resolution system involves building small dice pools of d6’s, tallying successes to see how you fared. The GM is responsible for presenting scenarios and complications, which are present in a few roll tables. At the end of elections you vote on each player’s position in the new court, and that’s game!

Butterfly Court, by mishagw.

In Butterfly Court, you will play as a member of the titular Butterfly Court, the court of the monarchy of the kingdom Praecia. This is a court intrigue game that uses the No Dice No Masters system, based on Avery Alder's Belonging Outside Belonging games.

This is a storytelling, roleplaying game, where players portray members of a court, but not necessarily the monarch or the heir. Instead, the game focuses on everyday lives, intrigue, relationships, obligations, and myriad other concerns of the regular people in the court: nobles, but also staff, servants, artists, and other people that make court life possible.

Butterfly Court doesn’t dictate who you are exactly, but it leaves a broad space for different kinds of supernatural beings. So if you want faeries, this game is certainly able to take place in a faerie court. The game is designed to pit your characters into situations that are difficult for the country at large: rebellions, scandals, famine, crime, etc. You also create factions that have different methods and priorities.

Everything that you create together is shared communally, because Butterfly Court uses a GM-less, diceless game system. This means that you’ll each have shared authority over where the story goes next, although there is a cycle of play that helps you move from one scene to the next. I think that the idea of this being a game about different factions navigating political turmoil has the potential to be represented really well through a collaborative system like this.

Games I've Recommended in the Past

If you want something more like Jane Austen, you might like Le Bon Ton! If you like equal parts adventure and social intrigue, then Household might be for you.

#tabletop games #indie ttrpgs #dnd #game recommendations #asks #indie ttrpg #social intrigue #social games

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ticklinglady · 2 years ago

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The Guild's actions during the story are so insane, when you think about them properly, you know? When I first read the arc with them, this moment hasn't really occurred to me, as I was too busy going nuts over finally seeing the names of the familiar writers, but now when I think of that... I am not sure, I comprehend how they managed to achieve such a ferocious reputation. I have already made a little post about how extremely dysfunctional the DOA members are, but at least those guys have a plan, which actually makes sense more or less, even despite the gang using cheatcodes/the Book. The same cannot be said of the Guild however archghhjkn. Like, what the hell were these guys even doing??? XD

So here are just some moments, which weirded me out the most

At first I'd like to address the entire story with everyone's favorite tsundere, Lucy Maud Montgomery. Her introduction leaves quuuuite an impression in the best way and nothing makes me happier than the fact, that she gets a chance to find happiness in the following chapters and actually becomes a reoccurring character! HOWEVER, her entire involvement with the Guild is super odd... I still can't wrap my head around her getting fired. She is a girl with a hella powerful ability, who got taken to the Guild from a terrible, terrible orphanage in order to fight for them in the war for the Book, so not only is she very strong, but she's also immensely dependant on the organisation and wouldn't do anything outside of its interests. Yet Lucy is also put under extreme pressure. As she herself puts it, the Guild doesn't tolerate failures and will kick her out the moment she screws something up.

Later we see that this is exactly what happens, when she messes up her first mission. Fitzgerald himself confirms that, since she failed and revealed her ability to the enemies, she's no longer useful, so now a powerful esper, like Lucy works for free as a... laundress?

EXCUSE ME??? WHEN HAVE THE GUILD MEMBERS EVER DONE ANYTHING, BUT FAIL AND REVEAL THEIR ABILITIES?

Let's be real, these dudes were successful like only once or twice...

This fact not only makes Fitzgerald look like an idiot for wasting such a talented and useful worker, because of one mistake, but also as one hell of a hypocrite, cause he is more than fine with everyone else fucking up. And in case of Lovecraft and Steinbeck: fucking up twice. To add to the oddity, we later learn, that Louisa genuinely cares for Lucy and despite her social anxiety actually stood up for her during the entire story, but even that wasn't enough to change Fitzgerald's mind on the issue, though Louisa is one of the few people, whose opinion he respects. Honestly, this is such a waste of a truly useful subordinate. And speaking of which....

The Guild has never even tried to implement Edgar Allan Poe during the war...

This man is actually rather op when you think of it. He can capture and neutralise literally any ability user in Yokohama (besides Dazai, Mori and Ranpo ofc) just by throwing a book at them. Seriously, as we see with Chuuya, they don't even have to read it, they just need to see the pages. Plus the book can be actually sent via email!!! So why has there been an absolute zero amount of strategies with the use of this ability??? They could actually try to catch Atsushi by sending him such email containing any of Poe's mystery stories and then safely carry him back to their base. And it doesn't have to be just Atsushi, it could be literally any of their enemies. Non-combatant, like Ranpo could use this pretty damn well to his advantage and it doesn't take a genius to understand the potential of the "Black Cat in Rue Morgue". But nooooo, it seems like everyone has just forgotten of Poe!!! (Tho to be honest, I can actually see this situation in a funny extra awfgbfggfjj. Not the main story however) The agency would never even learn of his existence, if he didn't personally decide to try to fuck Ranpo's life up. Like, what does Poe even do in the Guild? He's the master architect and, according to him, the third ranking man in the organization, but we never see him be of any use, so Idk. 🤷🏻‍♀️ Lucy at least got to do something, unlike this poor man.

Then there's the entire drama with the Guild's decision to destroy Yokohama. Where do I even begin...

First of all, Fitzgerald has no way of knowing that Atsushi is going to come to Moby-Dick to fight him. Poor guy is the Guild's primary goal and has already gotten himself captured once, so it would have been safe to assume that the ADA decided to hide him somewhere and not send him on any dangerous missions for the time being. That basically means Fitzgerald could have burned down not just Yokohama, but also the only person, who could actually help him find his precious Book.

But if we're to ignore this, let's also go with Wikipedia then~

"Yokohama is the second-largest city in Japan by population and the most populous municipality of Japan. It is the capital city and the most populous city in Kanagawa Prefecture, with a 2020 population of 3.8 million. It lies on Tokyo Bay, south of Tokyo, in the Kantō region of the main island of Honshu. Yokohama is also the major economic, cultural, and commercial hub of the Greater Tokyo Area along the Keihin Industrial Zone."

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

Good luck making up for the destruction of THIS, Fitzgerald 🖕

And if this in itself wasn't bad enough, most people, including me, tend to forget that all Guild members are actually big shots in the American government, which I think is very sad. Because first of all, can you imagine any of the Guild members actually working as politicians?!! The sheer idea makes me hysterical avshbgj. Like, just consider Lovecraft working as a senator or something. This eldritch horror of a man leaves the ocean once in three years at best LMAO. Second of all, I have a feeling, that the destruction of Yokohama at the hands of influential politicians from a foreign country would have resulted in an international conflict or two~ Like as if random deranged rich Americans arriving in Japan, wreaking havoc over there and destroying the second largest city in the country wasn't bad enough, these Americans just HAD to be super influential businessmen and politicians. Louisa, my dear, I understand that it wasn't your intention, but it's as close to a declaration of war as it can get, you know? Fitzgerald may be ready to do anything to resurrect his dead daughter, but I'm not sure, that the execution of himself and the rest of the Guild at the hands of the Hunting Dogs is something he'd like.

(And here's another funny thing that stems from them being politicians 🤭 As @originalartblog wittily pointed out, Fitzgerald wasting all his money fighting sskk has probably resulted in a market crash and recession over in the USA)

I also have some other questions in regards to this entire plan, such as why did they have to waste Moby-Dick just to destroy Yokohama? Yes, it works in the short term, but in the long term they loose a super powerful fortress with the stealth mode and as the practice shows, you better have a safe base, unless you want another lemon freak to blow it all up. I mean, you could just ask Lovecraft to destroy everything for free. Or, if the device is the only way to stop the giant whale from crashing, why didn't Fitzgerald just take it to a far away bunker or something and waited things out there without the need to spend millions of dollars just to survive the explosion? (And it would have been extremely funny, if during the fight with sskk he just threw the device overboard) But I think I have already rambled for long enough already atxhghbgv XD

The Guild is an even bigger mess than the DOA and I think that's glorious 🙌

#the guys stole mafia's building once just to show off and nobody has ever brought it up again #if that's not a true definition of hilarious I don’t know what is 🤭#bsd fitzgerald #bsd lucy #bsd louisa #bsd poe #bsd lovecraft #bsd guild #bsd #bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs #bsd meta #sort of #bsd francis #bsd spoilers #ticklinglady talks

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concert-bflat · 2 years ago

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I need to rant about Ivan guys guys I neeed to rant about Ivan (<--- keeps trying to write fics of him but Never finishes him) like God this man is so gay and so in love it genuinely hurts it Hurts and I am Injured by it and the imagrey is Sooo Good (and Yes this is probably me just parroting stuff Everyone has already said before but shut up it's my turn now!! (aka please I've been holding in these thoughts for Months now I must let them out of their cage before one of them Dies)) [Edit I am Not fucking proofreading this I spent 2 hours on it if there is a mistake you Imagined it </3]

Just like,

You can see it in the way he sees the stars in Till. His own hopes for freedom and the only real light in this world that he lost sight of in Till. He is the hope and wish for freedom that he has shut away and repressed and it makes him fall So Hard

Or how you only really see that red in his eyes (after. Almost Dying) when he's with or singing/thinking about how Till has Inspired him, like a fire has been lit inside him. A fire lit in the darkness. . hmm...

even at the end of the song, where he knows full well that he absolutely Crushed his opponent and also knows full well that Till is his next one. I'm sick. I'm so sick.

Or like. When he frees Till and everything is just Engulfed in that red now. How Till has that same fire in his eyes, he and Ivan are on the same page now. They see that same hope for freedom and they both share it. They're running towards the light (like the sky's lighter there, more on that in a sec), hell, the corners of the right side of the screen are literally tinted in LIGHT GREEN. Till's color. God dammit the whole scene is tinted in red and green. They are literally Complementary Colors. I'mmm soooooooo (God these scenes are soo pretty too I was genuinely Stunned when I first saw this)

DID YOU EVEN NOTICE I ONLY NOTICED NOW the Stars are fucking green. You can see it better in some of the Later Images but they are Literally Green because Ivan sees the stars in Till and uuuughsdfbshb

OR LIKE WHEN TILL TURNS BACK?? AND. And that red is no longer in his eyes and before The Realization hits Ivan his eyes are just Glowing with red. Because he was just Filled with that hope. Freedom was, potentially, Right There

Did you guys even notice in that like. 5 frames in the half-second animation of Till turning away he's totally engulfed in his shade of green. Like of Course. That's such a Till thing to do because of Course he's running back he never actually liked Ivan that way in the first place.

And also the lighting of the sky Flips. Because the light has always been with Till. And Ivan's left in the darkness. In the. Haha. Ha. Black Sorrow. Aha *sits down cries*

And Again with this mf's stupid eyes how they revert to just black because that hope's been stripped away again, how it's even reflected in his present self singing as he reminisces on it. Fucking. Ivan's Expression when Till runs away.T here's so fucking much like the irony. Like did he even see Till hesitate or did he just see him turn and run away.

Like the irony that the guy who's always breaking the rules and fighting and defying and clearly hating living in a world like this won't run away with him, who has always been passive and obeying the rules and just accepting captivity and has been repressing his desire for freedom is so Bitter and Awful but also he always Knew this would happen what the Hell was he thinking this was such a stupid idea like

this man gets No Breaks No Breaks Ever oh yeah btw they're facing off against each other in a literal Death Match. That they might've had a Chance of avoiding if they ran away. Ahah. Hh *sob*

Also this art brings me so much Joy as much as it hurts me on a visceral level like. Ivan Always has his eyes on Till but it goes from a fond smile. Like So Fond flat out lovestruck affectionate gaze because he loves this man and loves spending time with him to a grimace once they're on stage. How Till never really changes or really Has Changed, and that's why Ivan loves him as much as he is resentful towards him. How that's what brought them here, to the stage. How Ivan changed for Till and Because of Till but still Till is like a god damn immovable object with how he stubbornly sticks to his ways. There's such resentment but isn't he himself also stubborn for always sticking to Till anyways? Hell, he's singing all about him in Round 3 and loses control over his own emotions and expressions during it I'mmm Guhhh

Also the first image is titled Observation while the second one is titled Decision(? I think). Like mf What are you deciding. What happened Last Time you decided to do something I'm going to punt you into the next planet

Speaking of observing,

Just. How Ivan's Always Observing. I saw one person point out he's like a background character and it's like he sees himself as one too. He is a passive observer in his Own Life. How he watches all the other children in Anakt garden play. How his childhood leading him to Anakt Garden just kind of. Happens around him while he watches indifferently.

How he's always trailing behind Till. Or how he tends to just. Observe quietly and is portrayed as such.

Not to mention how he doesn't appear in the memories of Anyone else's rounds, not even Till's, even when he literally (temporarily) freed him from the city. He doesn't even appear At All in Luka's round even though we get a clear shot of Till getting his hopes and dreams shattered (though it Does parallel another shot of him from Round 2)

And then the One Times he tries to take action. Or start something. It gets rejected and he's resigned to just. Trailing behind again. Because of Course he'll always follow after Till. And of Course he's fucking bitter about it and bitter about himself because he Knew this would happen and Till is Always looking at someone else and that Never Changes but. He just thought for a moment that he could change something. Man.

Oh I forgot to talk about the competitions themselves huh? Wellll, (and I'll Attempt to keep it brief because I've been writing this post for Much too long but)

Till spends his first round singing completely devotedly to Mizi. Hell, his song wasn't even in the program, it's likely- no, almost definitely something he wrote entirely for her, and Ivan has no part in it, just watches bitterly as he passes out after his, er, stunt at the end

And continues to be passed out for almost the entirety of Ivan's song

Oh but he woke up for the emotional/musical climax at least, going over Ivan's most important memory of them together, that's cool at least right?! Surely Till felt something from that

Maybe they can talk something out, or at least acknowledge their relationship in Some way. Maybe Ivan could at least be seen by Till-

Aaand Till's Actual love interest Supposedly gets shot and now he probably thinks she's dead. His attention is turned to her once again, like it's always been from the start. He never really changes huh?

Better luck next time Ivan--

Just. This mf Never Wins and it makes me Laugh as much as it makes me So Sad

Gets hopes and dreams and future crushed by aliens (standard stuff). Sold off in an auction. Put in prestigious singing school and up to that point he hasn't really cared about Anything and has simply been going through the motions.

Meets boy that basically embodies the freedom and hope he used to have. Falls badly in love. Boy loves someone else. Tries to free him and give him the thing he'd surely want most. Rejected. Back to school you go loser.

Oh btw this school is to train you for a competition to the death. Btw you're facing off against that boy you love in the semi-finals of said death competition. And you might kill him or he'll kill you. Because you didn't run away when you had the chance.

Also he didn't sing or think about you at all during his round. In fact I'm pretty sure he wrote a whole ass song that wasn't even registered in the Alien Queue or whatever for someone else. Also he probably has hardly looked at you. Also he was unconscious for almost the entirety of your song. Except for the part where you lost control of your emotions.

Oh but that doesn't matter now because now he thinks the person He likes was just killed. So he's kiiinda gonna be distracted by that. And that might fuck up your round with him. Sorry man

This was Originally a rant about how much I love Black Sorrow's imagery and the portrayal of Ivan's love because this man clearly has Complex Emotions and then Kinda derailed into me just ranting about how many L's he's being handed before getting the executioner's blade. Uhhhhh oops. Congrats on sticking to the end though?

I just love Ivan very much. He is So Bitter and so Horribly In Love and looks up to and is inspired by Till So Much and I wish people explored him on a deeper level/more personally.

I wish I saw more deep looks at Ivan/Till, there's clearly Complicated Things going on there. Hell, we don't even know what Till's pov on the whole thing is aside from that One scene of him hesitating before running away from Ivan. As much as I love fluffy interpretations of them, I (did I mention that I'm an angst addict btw. Could You Tell) wish all their Complexities could be acknowledged. Like how Ivan Clearly puts Till on such a spotlight and it is Such a downfall for him through and through and he Kinda knows it but also What Else does he Have and he really looks up to him Sooo Much (just. Look at them in that official art of them in Anakt Garden !!!) and deep down just wants to run away from this horrible place and wants to run with Till, the Light of his life the fire in the darkness the fucking stars the universe his black sorrow just. Oh My God I need to end this post already I was supposed to be studying but spent those 2 hours Writing instead

But anyways yeah uuhhh long story short? This guy is a gay loser. He tries to look sooo cool and smooth but he is suuuch a gay lovestruck loser and his rose tinted glasses are so thick he can't see shit (I'm pretty sure I quoted that from something (but also no genuinely when I first got into alnst after just watching the first 3 rounds videos and saw Ivan in official art I was So Surprised like "Oh he's actually That kind of mf that tries to look Cool and Hot but is actually just Pathetic and Sad and Gay I thought he was Just Sad and Gay")) he's probably also touchstarved as hell idk and his love is doomed by the narrative (unless Hyuna saves his and Till's asses. Buuut we'll see </333)

Love ya Ivan keep taking L's <3333 mwah

#alien stage #alnst #ivan alien stage #till alien stage #ivantill #tillvan #character analysis #oh my god i spent like 2 hours onthis #i was supposed to be studyinnnggg #and now i need to go to sleep like asap #god damn you ivan #this is karma. but fr this guy just Keeps Losing it's so sad and funny #number 1 homosexual loser <3 #i love this stupid little gay man with his dumb red eyes and his stupid tiny fang #dumbass /affectionate #touchstarved dumbass #okay i need to shut up now #thank you for humoring me alnst fandom

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knight-dwx-09 · 6 months ago

Text

The New Admin

Jaune angrily open his bedroom’s door and slam it as hard as he can before storming into his bed and face plant on his pillow.

Jaune: Stupid Dad! Stupid Mom! Stupid Sisters! I did managed to save Jeanne from a Grimm so why can’t I become a huntsman?

Alexander: And that almost cost you your life

Jaune stop for a moment at the echo of his dad, turning his body to the roof and showing tears in his eyes. All the frustration and anger has left his body, and now, the only thing left was sadness and pain as he speak in a defeat tone.

Jaune: Why didn’t you believe in me dad? Am I really that talentless that you wouldn’t give me a chance? I just want to make you proud… make everyone proud…

He want to curled up to himself and go to sleep, hoping that it was just a nightmare… but a part of him still want to become a hero, even if his family didn’t believe in him. Then out of nowhere, a blue screen materialize in thin air with message on it.

It was…

Jaune: Huh? “Welcome to the system, Developer”? What is this?

[This is the developer’s Semblance]

Jaune: *Tilted his head* And what is a semblance?

[System level is too low to provide the answer]

Jaune: *Titled his head even more* huh… is there anything I need to know?

[The system will help the developer to grow stronger and reach the dream developer has]

[Aura are needed to open up the system]

Jaune: So I need this aura to keep whatever this is going?

[Incorrect]

[System will always be active even without aura but required it to access the system]

Jaune: And what is an Aura?

[System level is too low to provide the answer]

Jaune frowned at the exact same answer it had given to him.

Jaune: Then can you tell me at least how I can increase the level of the system?

[By gathering enough point through killing monster and change the story for the better then invest it to the system]

He began to piece some stuff together and from what he can gather, this system feel like some RPG game where you grow stronger by gaining experience and level up from beating the enemies and completing quests.

Then, he can become a huntsman even if he was talentless and this immediately brighten up him as a smile creep onto his face.

[Please chose one person to become your player]

Jaune: Huh?

[Developer can have one player to begin with. Having a player under the system will help the Developer to grow at higher rate]

Jaune: And how does that help me to grow?

[System level is too low to provide the answer]

At this point, that sentence had become really annoying to hear.

Jaune: Fine, as long as this can help me to become a hero

[That is correct]

[When Developer grow strong enough and have mastery over the system. New features could be added to benefit both Developer and the players]

Jaune simply nodded his head as he read the message.

[So please, choose one person to become Developer’s player]

Then a list of names appears on the screen which some he knows like his family, and lots of he doesn’t know.

[List of potential players]

- Ruby Rose

- Yang Xiao Long

- Lie Ren

- Pyrrha Nikos

- Weiss Schnee

- Juniper Arc (Locked)

- Alexander Arc (Locked)

- Trivia Vanille

- Ozma (Locked)

- Zwei

[Press here for the next page]

[Developer may choose only one player for now]

[Warning: The player will be given the choice if they want to accept to become Developer’s player. If they decline, Developer will be unable to pick them for 3 years. But don’t worry, Developer can choose another player immediately. However, Developer isn’t able to change or get rid of the player once they accepted the request. The only way to do it is through their death. So, choose carefully of whom you choose]

After reading all of that, this cause him to become extremely nervous at who he will choose since he could only have one at first. He want to pick the names he recognize but…

Jaune: Why even bother showing me my parents if I can’t choose them?

[System level is too low to provide the answer]

His eye twitch in annoyance.

#rwby #jaune arc #rwby jaune #Developer_AU #Gamer

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everlasting-rainfall · 2 years ago

Note

Ok so we seen Shanks vs Akainu in pages au but what if it was pirates vs pirates or marines vs marines;)

shanks vs Buggy maybe even Shanks vs Kaido

Akainu vs Garp maybe even Akainu vs Koby since we all know how that went when Koby yelled at him that one time 😈

but if you want another pirate vs Marine pairing who has potential working well together then I would suggest Garp and Roger or Luffy and Koby 👀

Those are some pretty interesting match ups that you have there, dearie! I’m kind of imagining like an old Mortal Kombat styled scene with like pixelated graphics and health bars with you being tied to a post in the background as the prize for the winner

It’s honestly kind of a funny thought to me in all honesty but enough wasting time, let’s get into it! I’m sorry if some of these aren’t that good by the way, I kinda struggled with this a bit

!-MINORS DO NOT INTERACT FOR ANY REASON-!

!-POTENTIAL TRIGGER WARNINGS-!

Yandere, Violence, Kidnapping, Manipulation, Stalking, Blood Mention, Fighting, Getting Locked Up

!-POTENTIAL TRIGGER WARNINGS-

!-MINORS DO NOT INTERACT FOR ANY REASON-!

So Shanks vs Buggy, I can’t see Shanks actively hurting Buggy even in a Yandere situation so I feel like how a fight between them would go down is probably like Buggy trying to fight Shanks and his crew

Maybe doing a bit well but it’s Shanks so without a doubt, he isn’t going to be able to do anything in the end so I feel like once Buggy has tired himself out that’s probably when Shanks offers him a proposition

He doesn’t want to hurt Buggy and Buggy wants you just like he does so why don’t they just share you?

I can only imagine Buggy’s reaction like this man shouts up a storm about how “No way, no deal! They’re mine! Not yours, keep your hands off of them!”

So Shanks just lets Buggy keep trying to steal you from them like no matter how complex the plan, Shanks just basically snags you back nearly every single time and probably leaves behind a note like “Offer is still in the air! 😁 -Shanks”

Eventually chances are that no matter how many times Buggy thinks that he has you, he keeps telling himself that he won’t give in and that you’ll be his and only his someday

However everyone has to break eventually so after Buggy puts his biggest plan to steal you and keep you with him forever in place only for Shanks to take you back a day later with the same note left behind, that’s when he’s probably surrender

He’d probably go walking off to Shanks and just be like “I’ll take you up on your offer now but only because I want to!! And I get her all to myself for an entire week!!” which Shanks agrees to

So all in all being fought over by Shanks and Buggy is basically just Buggy taking you then Shanks taking you until they agree to kind of share you

———————————

Shanks vs Kaido? Oh dear fucking lord… That can only go so horribly if they’re both chasing after the same person as if I remember then Kaido was actually on his way to Marineford when Shanks showed up during that arc

If they both have a crush on the same person then I pray for your well-being as I can imagine that Kaido probably had you first like he probably decided to make your island specifically part of his territory like man picked up your island and brought it closer to where his base is

Oh so graciously allowed the people of the island to live in exchange for you which caused you to become his tiny S/O who could fit in the palm of his hand and still have room to stretch themselves out and then some

Once Shanks found out about you though like let’s say that someone let information about Kaido’s S/O slip and that information spread until it reached Shanks, he was pretty interested and when he saw a picture of you that’s when he decided that he wanted you

And like what I’ve said before if one member of a crew is Yandere then expect all of them to be like Shanks’s crew were more than happy to go along with this idea of heading to Wano and snagging Kaido’s S/O as clearly you rightfully belong to Shanks as he loves you far more than Kaido does and more than the giant blue lizard (his words, not mine) ever could

And this is going to be one hell of a fight, Kaido is going to keep you with him or die horribly trying to like there has been quite a few attempts at taking you but they get you as far as almost on the ship before you’re stolen back

It’s terrifying, it’s loud, it’s bloody, and neither side is willing to give up until they have you

They’ll take breaks of course to rest and recover as they can’t fight forever and during that time, you better hope that you’re a master negotiator as otherwise this fight will either last forever or until one/both of them dies

This is kinda starting to sound like Broggy and Dorry to be honest but hey, whatever

In conclusion, Kaido and Shanks fighting over you kinda feels like a tower defense game as people are constantly coming from Shanks side to try and capture you while Kaido and the Beast Pirates defend you

The only problem comes from the fact that Kaido is more than likely at a disadvantage when it comes to fighting Shanks as I feel like Shanks is stronger

————————————

So Garp vs. Akainu as well? I’m sorry to say it but prepare to be married to Garp, Akainu doesn’t stand a chance against Garp as if Sengoku didn’t hold Garp down at Marineford then he would have killed Akainu plus we all see the feats that this man has accomplished

Let’s say that you were already Akainu’s Darling like he was a fairly alright Yandere to you if not terrifying as all hell like this man probably kidnapped you to keep you safe from the Pirate scum like “You’re pure and I won’t let a pirate taint you, you’re coming with me”

He doesn’t let you out of the house unless he’s with you as he knows he can protect you and that’s how you meet Garp, Garp is irritating to Akainu but he is a marine so he allows Garp to get close and look but not touch as if Garp tries to offer you a rice cracker or shake your hand then he’s smacking it away

Garp leaves you two alone with one thought in his head and it’s “How did a person as sweet as that wind up with Akainu of all people?” but regardless he continues on with his life with his mind very often drifting to you

Like he keeps imagining things with you and spacing out to random thoughts like he imagines going on dates with you and treating you far better than he thinks Akainu is doing as he envisions Akainu as this big scary lava monster that will burn you alive

At first, he doesn’t want to be a home wrecker by getting you to cheat with him but over time he starts to care less and less as he really wants you but alas he’s a marine and he can’t just go wrecking households for no reason other than “I love her” so he holds himself back reluctantly although he is very nice to you whenever he sees you with Akainu

Cut to Marineford and Marineford things happen, Garp is held down by Sengoku and Akainu lives albeit having been beaten down pretty bad

Garp is devastated by what happened and he tries to deal with things but as he’s dealing with things, his mind goes to you at one point albeit briefly and he realizes that you’re still married to Akainu and after what happened at Marineford. There’s no telling what could happen now

He’s going to save you so while Akainu is at Punk Hazard battling Aokiji, Garp breaks into your home and spirits you away with him to where he knows that he can keep you safe

Akainu will be pissed when he gets home and finds you gone especially with the clear signs that you were kidnapped, one of his first orders of business as Fleet Admiral will be tracking you down and getting you back

Your new husband isn’t worried at all though as if Akainu gets anywhere near you now then he’ll take care of it, Akainu can think all that he wants that he’ll have you back someday but while Garp is alive then nothing of the sort is happening

You’ll be staying right there with him and he’ll hear nothing about returning to Akainu like man’s expression visibly darkens if you bring up Akainu so it’s best to keep conversation topics about other things

At least you have more freedom with Garp, I guess? He’s definitely more protective and will join you if you go anywhere but he says you shouldn’t talk to anyone and let him do all the talking

It’s safe to just accept that Garp is your husband now, not Akainu and if Akainu ever tries to come for you then well it’s time to make the worlds hottest donut if you get what I mean

In conclusion, Garp vs. Akainu when it comes to you is just him stealing you and killing Akainu if he ever gets too close

————————————————

Ok so Akainu vs. Koby, huh? Yeah, we all did see what happened when Koby shouted at Akainu that one time and if I was writing this before the latest chapter then I would honestly say that Koby is someone who needs to back down and adore from afar while hoping that Akainu maybe dies an awful death

But after the latest chapter and also remembering that he was trained by Garp, I’d say that Koby would be able to give Akainu one hell of a fight if they were to fight over you and the odds would be against Koby

I feel like Koby’s best bet at keeping you with him would probably be to do what Garp did like grab you and run as I can’t see him willing to take Akainu on head on if Akainu wanted you as well like don’t get me wrong as if push came to shove then he’s going in

Luckily Akainu and Koby are somewhat reasonable people with Koby being way more reasonable than Akainu so you might be able to negotiate with them briefly to not get them to fight each other but that’s a small briefly because of Akainu as Koby will listen but Akainu will let you say like two words before it’s back to firing lava at Koby

Honestly I can’t see Koby being a Yandere that would actively kidnap you like he’d be the kind of Yandere where once you’re in a relationship with him, he’s clingy as fuck and barely leaves you alone especially if you live together but beyond putting you under prolonged house arrest for trying to leave, I can’t see it

So chances are that Akainu might actually kidnap you first over Koby and put you under permanent house arrest but maybe not so much house arrest as it is bedroom arrest until he can trust you to not run away from him

I can imagine though that Koby takes immediate notice of your disappearance and gets worried about you so he’ll probably go seeking you out and trying to figure out where you went

And if he finds out that Akainu has you then he’s not above putting a plan into motion that he calls Plan *Insert First Initial of Your Name*RFA which stands for *Your Name* Rescue From Akainu, it’s some pretty complex stuff too as he doesn’t want to just smash a window with a brick

When Koby has you though, he’s getting out of there and taking you with him so he can keep you safe and love you but eventually Akainu will probably find you and Koby. He’s not mad at you, well he sort of is but that’s besides the point

Koby probably will get a few new scars as Akainu steals you back and brings you home where you’re under serious lockdown like we’re talking ankle monitor more than likely and probably not being allowed to leave the bed except for basic necessities

Don’t expect to be there long though as Koby does intend to have you back eventually, it’s just that now he needs to a second edition of the plan with a better place to hide you and he’s not going to stop like even if you tell him to

He all but sees you as the princess in a tower with Akainu as a fire breathing dragon and him as the brave knight whose coming to save you

Chances are that he doesn’t even give a shit if he gets a few burn scars on the way out as it’ll be worth it when the drago- I mean, Akainu stops stealing you back

In conclusion, Akainu vs. Koby would probably boil down to a game of hide and seek until either Koby gets himself killed or Koby manages to either kill Akainu or hide you somewhere where Akainu legitimately can’t find you

—————————————

Garp and Roger fighting over you? I can personally see that fight lasting forever or at least until Roger dies, I think it would be pretty funny though if you just had no clue what was going the whole time so let’s go with that for this one

So imagine that you’re basically some kind of traveler and every island that you wind up going to if you stay there long enough then you will run into Gol D. Roger himself or Monkey D. Garp like you’ve been keeping record of how long it takes for one of them to show up on every island, it happens so much

Roger typically just throws his arm around your shoulders and greets you as if you were an old friend, he offers you to join his crew for a party and asks about any new adventures that you may have had recently while Garp just finds you and starts up a conversation with you like he’s pretty loud about it and maybe even offers you a rice cracker or two as he offers you to come with him to visit a marine base

Both situations would cause you to never be separated from them again if you agreed by the way but anyways, I can imagine that they always just have this serious look of disappointing on their faces whenever you decline

I can’t imagine the two of them immediately just jumping into a fight over you like it wouldn’t take long but it wouldn’t be just like greet each other then fight

Both of them are incredibly tough so I can imagine that any fight between them goes on without a winner like Yandere or not, Roger is going to put the needs of his crew first a lot of the time which I can see Garp accepting and saying he’ll let Roger go for the time being but maybe also throwing a few canon balls his way when Roger is leaving

Meanwhile as these fights are happening, you’re just like listening to music in the background being completely oblivious like it’s that one Spider-Man meme of like Spider-Man and the enemy fighting in the background while Stan Lee listens to music

Anyways enough jokes, my apologies…

Eventually one of them is likely going to capture you and bring you with them, I can imagine that because of how their fights for you are at a stalemate constantly then chances are that you’re never going to be leaving that person

The only reason why I can see Garp finally getting you is when Roger is executed and you’re in tears because Stockholm syndrome or maybe you actually fell in love with him then Garp will be there as a shoulder for you to cry on

He’ll comfort you through your grief and make you smile again eventually managing to get you to enter a relationship with him and boom, you’re stuck with another Yandere

The only way that I could see that scenario not being the case is if Roger asked one of his trusted crew members to keep an eye on you like Rayleigh or Gaban, hell I can even see you being entrusted to Shanks or Buggy when they get old enough like “Don’t worry, we’ll take good care of Mom/Dad! No one will lay a hand on them!” because without a doubt they do see you as one

It doesn’t mean that Garp is going to stop trying though as he’ll always be there just watching and waiting for the perfect chance for him to get close and take you away

As for if Garp is the winner who eventually got you then you’re definitely saddened by Roger’s death as you were close but I can’t see any of Roger’s old crew trying to come after you, he definitely spoke about you but I can’t see him asking them to steal you from Garp as there’s no real point now that he’s dead

As for if you were present during Ace’s birth or his childhood? I feel like you weren’t there for Ace’s birth but you may have been occasionally with Garp when he went to visit Ace, Luffy, and Sabo but I don’t think enough to where they would actively remember you

In conclusion, Garp vs Roger feels like it boils down to a game of capture the flag but both parties are too busy fighting to actually capture the flag

———————————————

Now then Luffy vs Koby? I can personally see the two of them honestly deciding to ultimately share you at first to some extent as the two of them appear to be on somewhat good terms despite the fact that Luffy is a Pirate and Koby is a Marine

You know if you don’t count anything that involves the two of them fighting or Koby trying to catch Luffy as he’s a pirate and all but regardless, Koby is a good Marine and Luffy is a good Pirate so to an extent, I feel like they might decide to share you

This extent being that although they share you, sometimes Luffy won’t hand you off to Koby for his time with you and will try to make you stay with him while Koby does the same as he attempts to subtly convince you to stay with him

I’d recommend for either of their sake but mostly Koby’s sake to not pick either of them and just continue this life of being periodically passed between them and if you don’t want to see bloodshed or fighting then I’d recommend doing your best to convince Luffy and Koby to stick to the rules that were put in place

Koby would be easy to convince but Luffy, not so much as that man is as stubborn as a mule so you will have to make him one hell of a deal so you prevent a fight breaking out but then again even that might not work so a fight may be inevitable

And when they do fight against each other over you then I would say that Koby could put up a good fight against Luffy but I think that we all know who is winning this and walking away with you in the end and it isn’t Koby

I couldn’t see Luffy ever killing Koby but beating him so bad that he’s black and blue? Especially considering that Luffy is Yandere for you then he’ll gladly do it as many times as he needs to until Koby gets the message to stay away

But seeing as Koby is a Yandere for you as well then I don’t think that’s going to be any time soon, you can try to ask him to just stay away for his own sake if you run into him while alone but he won’t listen and will simply take you and get moving

Don’t expect to get too far though as soon enough, you’ll see an angry rubber man chasing the two of you or if you made off of the island then the Thousand Sunny chasing after the ship that Koby has you on

Either way, Luffy isn’t going to pull an Akainu and potentially kill Koby but he will get more and more irritated each time that Koby does show up to try and steal you away from him

Sometimes you probably do miss the days where Koby and Luffy would sort of share you between one another

In conclusion, Luffy vs. Koby probably feels like a game of keep away in all honesty where Luffy is keeping you away from Koby

#male yandere #yandere one piece #minors dni #the rain talks back #reader insert #read the trigger warnings #minor dni #yandere male #yandere luffy #Yandere Akainu #Yandere Garp #yandere #Yandere Gol D. Roger #Yandere Shanks #Yandere Buggy #Yandere Kaido

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wishforhome · 18 days ago

Note

Justice and The Moon for my fave Vero!!

Justice: Reflect on the argument Rook and their partner have in the lead-up to the final battle. What emotions are driving the conversation? How is the issue resolved?

So, obviously there's no in-game argument between Vero and Viago in the game because Viago is not an actual love interest in the game! But before Tearstone Island, Vero does go to Treviso to talk to Viago. They don't argue. They've been arguing, off and on, for the entirety of the game, and the talk before Vero leaves for Tearstone is actually the first time since Viago sent Vero away that they both kind of get on the same page, and that they both start to believe that they might have some kind of a future together.

It's kind of their last chance to clear the air before a potentially deadly mission. And Viago tells them that he's proud of who they've become in the last year and a bit, and tells them the truth - finally - about why he sent them away: because he was scared he was ruining them, that he needed them to have the choice of being their own person instead of just his.

And Vero is finally in a place that they can hear that from him, and understand why he did it, and not be angry about it anymore.

So for the first time in well over a year, maybe the first time in their relationship, they actually understand each other. And maybe they don't actually talk about the future, because they don't know if there will be one, and it might be bad luck to talk about it. Probably Viago kisses them, for the first time since before he sent them away. And they hold hands for a little while, and they both let themselves hope that they might figure things out. Might let themselves try to figure things out.

And then Vero goes to Tearstone Island and disappears into the regret prison.

The Moon: The moon is bright because it reflects the light of the sun. Which qualities do Rook and their partner bring out in each other? Are these qualities positive or negative?

Oh they're so messy. They make each other better assassins. Viago brings out and encourages Vero's analytical, serious nature, their capacity for control and precision, as well as their obsessive level of devotion. And Vero, by accommodating Viago's paranoia and control issues, brings those elements even more toward the fore. It makes both of them more deadly, but ... it also makes them more damaged, in a lot of ways.

But in time, they do also bring out the other person's capacity for care. Vero brings out Viago's capacity for affection and commitment and complete trust in another person, things he once would have thought he was incapable of. And Viago ultimately encourages Vero's independence from him.

#viago de riva #da 4 #rook de riva #oc: vero de riva #ask game #ask game answers #dragon age spoilers #dragon age the veilguard #datv spoilers

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sebstanaddict · 4 months ago

Text

Too Good To Be True

Sebastian Stan x Reader Story

Summary: A romantic comedy story where Sebastian Stan falls in love with reader but she is not who he thinks she is.

Despite Sebastian's insistence in coming back with her, reader reluctantly had to break up with Sebastian in order to fulfill Aurora's obligation to her parents to marry Adam. But what Adam said during dinner with Aurora's parents sparks and idea in her head and she might just find a way out of this nightmare.

Pairings : Sebastian Stan x Female!Reader

Chapters : 23/28 (Might add more)

Chapter list >

Warning : just some sexual reference a litlle, nothing vulgar

Word count : 4.9k words

---

Chapter 23 - A Heart Worn Thin

That morning, Y/n woke up feeling a spark of hope, a small light flickering at the end of a long, dark tunnel. Last night's conversation with Aurora's father had planted a seed—a chance to escape this twisted arrangement with Adam if she could prove herself worthy of running his company. It was a daunting task, but it was also her lifeline. If she succeeded, she could end the engagement, walk away, and perhaps... just maybe... find her way back to Sebastian.

Yet that hope was tempered by a gnawing sadness. The last encounter with Sebastian lingered in her mind, the hurt in his eyes haunting her. She wanted so badly to tell him about her plan, about the potential way out. But there was no guarantee she'd succeed, and she didn't want to risk raising his hopes—only to dash them if she failed.

That morning they were scheduled to shoot another scene for Pumping Black. One that happened before the horrible stabbing to Aurora's character, Celeste, happened.

When she arrived on set, her heart skipped as she spotted Sebastian across the room. But the moment he looked at her, her stomach sank. His expression was cold, his posture distant, a wall firmly in place where warmth had once been. He didn't say a word, didn't ask questions or attempt to break the tension. For the first time, it seemed as though he'd stopped fighting for her, resigned to letting her go. The realization hurt more than she'd expected.

They took their positions for the scene, a climactic argument between their characters. It was intense, full of betrayal and anger—exactly the kind of tension that mirrored what simmered between them. But neither of them could focus, and each take was worse than the last.

"Cut!" Maya's voice rang out, frustration lacing her tone. She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Guys, I need more than this. There's too much tension, but it's the wrong kind. If you can't get on the same page, we're going to be here all day."

Y/n felt Sebastian's eyes on her, his gaze as cold as ever. They both knew they had to get past whatever was holding them back if they were going to get through the day. He gestured for her to follow him, and they stepped off to a quiet corner away from the others.

He crossed his arms, his face a mixture of bitterness and disappointment. "If we're going to keep doing this, we have to put whatever's between us aside," he said, voice flat. "I'm not here to drag things out any longer."

His tone was harsh, but she knew he was right. Fighting back tears, she nodded. "You're right. I don't want to keep holding you back."

For a long moment, they stared at each other, an unspoken understanding passing between them. Whatever they'd had was slipping further away, and it felt like sand slipping through her fingers, but she had no choice. Not yet. She had to stay focused on her plan.

"Alright," she whispered. "Let's do this."

They returned to set, and this time, as the camera rolled, they poured everything into the scene. The anger, the hurt, the betrayal—it all flowed into their characters, heightening each line and glance. When Maya finally called "cut," the crew erupted into applause, the scene charged with a raw energy that felt as real as anything they'd shared off-camera.

But the moment the applause faded, Sebastian turned away, grabbing his things without a word and walking off set. Y/n watched him leave, her heart breaking all over again. This time, it felt final—as if she was truly losing him, inch by inch, with every secret and every lie.

As she stood there alone, she couldn't help but wonder if her plan would be enough. Because even if she escaped Adam, there was no guarantee she hadn't already lost the one person she was doing it all for.

—

The next morning, Y/n found herself sitting in Aurora's office at the hedge fund company, staring at a sea of financial data on the screen in front of her. She didn't have any shoot scheduled for that day so she planned to maximize the day to work at the hedge fund company.

Despite the plush, luxurious surroundings, the pressure of the task at hand weighed heavily on her. Aurora's father had given her a small but crucial project, one that could prove her competence — or see her thrown back into the clutches of an unwanted marriage with Adam.

The project was no small task. Aurora's father had asked her to create an algorithm that would optimize their stock trading strategy. The hedge fund was heavily invested in technology, and Y/n's background as a software engineer was going to be the key to unlocking its potential.

She had to create an automated trading algorithm that could analyze large volumes of data — historical prices, market trends, and real-time news — to make predictions and execute trades with minimal human intervention. It was a high-stakes task, but one she was surprisingly excited about.

Aurora's father was skeptical at first that she could do it, knowing Aurora had no background at all in software engineering, but she assured him that she would be working closely with her personal assistant to create the algorithm. She even gave him her CV so he could see her background. Once he studied her CV he was more confident and allowed her to start working to create the algorithm.

As she worked, her fingers flew across the keyboard, the familiarity of coding bringing her a sense of calm amidst the storm of her life. This was something she could control, something she could solve. Her mind raced with logic and numbers, allowing her to momentarily escape the chaotic mess of pretending to be Aurora and dealing with Adam and Sebastian's emotions.

She spent two weeks coding, testing and refining the algorithm. When she was scheduled for a shoot, she spent the day doing shooting and the night working at home until dawn. When she had no shoot scheduled she would come to the office and work from morning until night. It was taxing and she was exhausted.

Each day, Y/n felt like she was being pulled in a hundred directions at once, struggling to keep everything from unraveling. Between the long hours of shooting Pumping Black and the sleepless nights spent working on Aurora's father's algorithm, she was running on little more than sheer will. But it wasn't just exhaustion that weighed on her. It was Sebastian—the growing distance between them that left an ache she couldn't seem to shake.

She often caught him watching her, his gaze soft yet searching, as if he was silently begging her to open up. She longed to tell him everything, to ease the tension between them, but the stakes were too high. If she couldn't pull off this plan with Aurora's father, she risked not only disappointing Sebastian but keeping herself trapped in the unwanted future looming over her. So she kept it to herself, even as she felt the space between them widening with each day.

One evening on set, Y/n sat with her script, exhaustion weighing down her every movement. Footsteps approached, and she didn't need to look up to know it was him. The air shifted in a way it only ever did when he was close. "Aurora..are you okay?" Sebastian's voice was a soft brush of concern, and hearing it nearly unraveled her.

She managed a tired smile. "I'm fine, Sebastian. Just...a lot going on." She tried to sound casual, to reassure him with words she barely believed herself.

But his expression remained unconvinced. There was a deep worry in his blue eyes as he studied her. "Fine?" he repeated, skepticism coloring his tone. "You look exhausted. You don't have to push yourself this hard...whatever it is, it can wait."

Y/n's heart clenched. She wanted so badly to tell him why she was doing this, to let him understand the reason behind her late nights and weary mornings. But instead, she shook her head. "I can handle it, Sebastian. Really."

His gaze hardened, disappointment crossing his face as he looked away, jaw tight. "I just don't understand why you won't tell me what's really going on," he said, his voice laced with hurt. "Why can't you be honest with me?"

Her own gaze dropped, the weight of his words pressing on her. How she wanted to be honest, to confide in him and ease the guilt gnawing at her. But she couldn't bring herself to risk it. "It's...complicated, Sebastian," she whispered, wishing he could somehow read the apology in her eyes. "I wish I could explain, but it's just...something I have to figure out on my own."

He nodded slowly, but the distance was already etched into his features. "Alright. Just...take care of yourself," he murmured, his tone colder, more distant than she'd ever heard it. And as he turned to walk away, a hollow ache settled in her chest.

The sadness lingered in his eyes whenever their paths crossed after that, mirroring her own guilt and regret. Each look, each silence, seemed to carve the chasm between them a little deeper, until she feared she'd never be able to bridge it again.

Despite the situation with Sebastian and everything else, somehow, she felt an invisible power and energy pushing her through it all. The motivation to escape Adam's clutches became her fuel and she knew she couldn't rest until she succeeded.

Every day, Aurora's father would check in on her progress, though always from a distance. He didn't hover or micromanage — it seemed that once he had given her the project, he trusted her to handle it. But she knew he was watching closely, waiting for her to either rise to the challenge or fail spectacularly.

By the end of the second week, Y/n had developed the algorithm's core structure. It could sift through mountains of data in seconds, analyze market trends, and predict which stocks would rise or fall. She was confident it would work — but she still needed to prove it in action.

With her final tests done, she scheduled a meeting with Aurora's father for a demonstration.

---

The day of the presentation arrived, and Y/n felt a mixture of excitement and nerves. This was it — her chance to prove to Aurora's father that she was capable of running the company, that she didn't need Adam, or anyone else, to succeed.

Aurora's father sat across from her in the sleek, modern conference room, his expression neutral but his eyes sharp. He hadn't been one to give away much during their interactions, but Y/n could sense that he was deeply invested in the outcome of this project.

"Let's see what you've come up with," Aurora's father said, gesturing to the screen where Y/n had her algorithm ready for the demonstration.

Y/n took a deep breath and began walking him through the system. She explained how the algorithm processed data, its predictive model, and how it was capable of identifying high-potential stocks with impressive accuracy. Then she showed him a live demonstration, running the algorithm in real-time as it made a series of small trades.

Aurora's father leaned forward, his eyes narrowing as he watched the results flash on the screen. For several minutes, he said nothing, simply observing the algorithm's performance. Y/n's heart raced, but she kept her composure, explaining each step in detail.

When the demo was over, there was a long pause. Aurora's father sat back in his chair, his hands steepled as he considered what he had just seen.

"You've done well," he said finally, his voice steady. "This could be a real asset to the firm."

Relief flooded through Y/n, but she kept her expression neutral. She wasn't done yet.

"Thank you," she said. "But there's something more I want to discuss."

Aurora's father raised an eyebrow, but nodded for her to continue.

"I know you want Adam to take over the company," Y/n began, choosing her words carefully. "But as you have known from our last dinner with him, he doesn't fully understand the intricacies of the business. His lack of knowledge could be dangerous, especially in such a volatile market. I know this company means a lot to you — it's your legacy. And I believe I'm capable of preserving that legacy without the need for this marriage."

Aurora's father's expression remained impassive, but Y/n could see the gears turning in his mind.

"I'm not just saying this as your daughter," she continued, knowing she had to speak as Aurora in this moment. "I've proven myself capable of handling complex challenges, and I want to be the one to lead the company into the future. If you give me a chance, I believe I can do it — and you won't need to tie me to Adam to secure the company's future. And.." She hesitated, choosing her words carefully, then finally said, "I know you want the best for me, and I respect that. But... Adam isn't the right person for me. He forced himself on me. I managed to push him away, but... I don't think a man like that should be a part of this family."

As Aurora's father processed Y/n's revelation, his usually stern face softened just slightly. He looked at her with an intensity that spoke of both concern and re-evaluation.

"Adam forced himself on you?" he asked quietly, anger simmering beneath his controlled tone. His voice softened only to let her speak, but she could see the fury in his gaze.

Y/n swallowed hard and nodded, willing herself to stay composed. "Yes. I...I managed to push him away, but the way he acted, his anger..." She trailed off, feeling the weight of the moment as Aurora's father looked away, jaw clenched.

For a long moment, he said nothing, his expression hardening as he stared into the distance. Finally, he turned back to her, his voice resolute. "I had no idea Adam was capable of something like that. I thought he was... well, clearly I was wrong. I don't want a man like him in this family. No daughter of mine should be forced into a marriage like that."

Y/n exhaled, a profound sense of relief washing over her. "Thank you. I never wanted to disappoint you, but I know this isn't the life I want."

Aurora's father nodded, his gaze steady as he looked at her. "I appreciate your honesty, Aurora. And for that, I'm willing to give you a chance. You've impressed me today." He gestured at the screen, his expression softening, albeit slightly. "That program is the kind of work I'd expect from someone serious about running the company."

Y/n felt her heart lift. Here was her opportunity—not only to escape the marriage but to build something meaningful, something she could truly call her own. "I'm ready to prove myself, Dad. Just give me the chance."

He sighed, giving her a rare, approving look. "I will. I'll call off the engagement, effective immediately. But my expectations remain. This program was a good start, but if you're serious about the company, you need to come back once your filming is done. I want you working directly under me, handling real accounts and projects. If you prove yourself capable, the company is yours." He paused, eyes narrowing slightly. "If not, I'll hand it over to Edith."

Y/n nodded, determination coursing through her veins. "Understood. I won't let you down."

He smiled, a hint of pride in his gaze. "Good. Show me that I haven't misplaced my faith."

As she gathered her things, she took one last look at Aurora's father, who was watching her with an intensity she hadn't seen before. The hard lines of his face softened ever so slightly, and for the first time, she thought she saw something almost close to admiration.

"I'll make arrangements to cut Adam out as quickly as possible," Aurora's father added, his tone businesslike once more. "But, Aurora... don't make me regret this."

Y/n smiled, a genuine smile, feeling like she could finally breathe. "I won't. I promise."

Aurora's father gave a single nod, his expression shifting back to his usual stoicism. "Very well. You're dismissed."

Y/n walked out of his office, feeling lighter than she had in weeks. There was still a long road ahead, but for the first time, she had real hope. And she can't wait to tell Sebastian about it. But first she needed to tell Aurora and so she did that just as she arrived home.

"Aurora, you won't believe what just happened!" She said enthusiastically into her cellphone.

*What?" Aurora's voice, well, her voice, drawled at the other end.

"I got us out of the arranged marriage with Adam!" She gushed.

"What?! How?" Aurora asked, surprise in her voice.

She proceeded to tell her about what has been happening and how her father offered her to work closely with him to manage the company. She expected Aurora to be happy about it but her response was not what she expected.

"Are you stupid?" Aurora protested.

Her heart felt like it has been stabbed as she heard Aurora. "What?!"

"I know nothing about running a hedge fund company, I know nothing about software engineering. I'm just going to look so stupid when we switch back. You should resign. Tell my dad that you changed your mind and would like to just marry Adam or anyone else my dad deems worthy."

She knew Aurora had a point but she couldn't give up. "Aurora, there is no way I'm marrying Adam or anyone else for that matter.. I mean.. I love Sebastian, okay? I can't marry someone else."

"I know you do but I don't. I know he's kind and all that but he's not the man my mom or my dad wants me to be with. It's not just about the company." Aurora sighed.

"Then what is it about, Aurora?" She asked.

"I just.. I just want to make them happy. My parents. Especially my mom. She.. she sees Edith as a better daughter than me. If I don't marry Adam like she wants, I'm just going to disappoint her even further and I don't want that."

She took a deep breath as she listened to Aurora and tried to see her point of view. "Okay, okay, I get it. But can't you see that if you.. I mean me.. succeed in doing this, it would make your mom proud? She can see you as someone capable like Edith. Isn't that what you want?"

Aurora didn't respond immediately, it seemed like she was deep in thought.

"Besides, Adam forced himself on me but I managed to get away and he was so angry. You wouldn't want to be stuck in a marriage like that, Aurora. I told your father too and he agreed, he doesn't want someone like Adam to be his son in law."

"My dad said that?" Aurora asked slowly.

"Yeah, he did. He called off the engagement immediately." She replied.

For a while Aurora didn't say anything but she could hear her breathing at the other end.

"Aurora, are you still there?" She asked.

"Yeah.. yeah. You know I can't believe I'm saying this but, you're right, if you succeed it could make my mother proud." Aurora finally said and she couldn't believe her ears.

"Yeah, exactly." She replied.

"And I know Adam has been a jerk so I'm glad you managed to cut him out of our lives. But if we switch back, I don't know if I can run the company.." Aurora trailed.

"I'll help you. I'll continue to help you. You can call or text me anytime." She offered.

Aurora took a deep breath and she waited patiently for her response. "Okay. Thank you." Aurora finally said and she breathed a sigh of relief.

"You're welcome. How is my mom by the way?" She asked carefully, her heart ached at not being able to be with her.

"She's.. managing.." Aurora trailed.

"Aurora, is she okay? Tell me everything." She insisted as her stomach twisted in knots.

"Well, she started her new treatment yesterday with new drugs. She has become weaker and more lethargic after that. But the doctors are still monitoring her closely. They say it's a normal effect of the new drugs. We won't know for sure how it would affect her until the whole series of the treatment is done. Which will take about a month." Aurora explained and her heart dropped to her stomach.

"Oh.. is she able to be at home or is she staying at the clinic?" She asked, worry gnawed in her heart.

"She's staying at the clinic. The doctors need to monitor her very closely. Your father and I, we take turns sleeping at the clinic to accompany her. You don't need to worry about that." Aurora said and she sighed.

"Thank you, Aurora. I really appreciate what you have done for us so far."

"Yeah, no problem. I like your mom and dad. They're really cool." Aurora said and she smiled.

"Yeah, they.. they are cool." She chuckled.

"By the way, I know I'm supposed to be back to LA before you leave for Paris. But, if you want, I can stay here longer. I.. I want to make sure she's okay throughout this new treatment session." Aurora said and her jaw dropped.

"Really? You would do that for me?" She asked, touched that Aurora would think that way.

"I'm doing this for your mom. She needs her daughter close by throughout this whole ordeal. I don't have the heart to leave when she needs me.. I mean.. you.. most."

She felt tears slipping from her eyes as she heard Aurora. "Wow, that's really thoughtful of you, Aurora. I really appreciate it. Thank you."

"You're welcome."

They ended the call with a much better understanding of each other. She never thought Aurora could change so much but apparently, with the right people and circumstances, they could change. And she was glad that Aurora could change and become a much better person. As for her, she had spent her life thinking that having physical beauty is an advantage in life. But her experiences so far proved otherwise and now she knew that what was most important was what was on the inside. She just wished that someday, maybe, she could find out if Sebastian feels the same way. She couldn't wait to tell him the good news. But she felt she couldn't just straight up tell him. The distance and coldness between them needed to be bridged and she made plans to do just that.

—

Y/n's heart pounded in her chest as she parked her car in Sebastian's building later that week. She took a deep breath and said a silent prayer that he would still forgive her and accept her back into his life.

She picked up the picnic basket she had prepared earlier, containing all his favorite food and drinks and walked towards the entrance. She put a wide smile as she approached the security desk.

"Oh hey Miss Watson, long time no see. How are you?" Michael the security officer greeted her.

"I'm good, Michael, how are you?" She asked, placing the picnic basket on the desk in front of him.

"I'm good as well, thank you Miss for asking." He smiled and she smiled back.

"Is he home?" She asked, gesturing her head up.

"Yes, he is. Come, follow me." Michael said as he picked up the picnic basket and guided her to the special elevator that would take her straight into Sebastian's penthouse. He scanned his access key card and the elevator opened and she immediately went in as Michael handed her the picnic basket.

"Thank you, Michael." She said as she accepted the picnic basket from him and he saluted then winked at her.

The elevator closed leaving her alone with her thoughts. Her heart beat faster and faster as the elevator ascended, her mind rehearsing the words she was going to say to him.

When the elevator finally stopped at the topmost floor and opened Y/n felt a surge of anticipation, hope flickering in her heart as she walked in with her picnic basket. The living room was dimly lit, and she found him stretched out on the couch, watching Blue Valentine. The melancholy glow from the screen cast shadows across his face, mirroring the sadness she'd left behind.

When he looked up and saw her, surprise flashed across his face, quickly replaced by something unreadable. For a fleeting moment, his eyes softened with what looked like relief, but the hurt she'd caused was evident as he quickly reined in his expression, letting his guard return. "Aurora," he said, his voice low and guarded as he stood up and cautiously approached her. "What are you doing here?"

She took a steadying breath, put the picnic basket down near her feet then pulled out a slip of paper from her pocket. Without preamble, she began to read:

"I carry your heart with me (I carry it in my heart)

I am never without it (anywhere I go you go, my dear; and whatever is done by only me is your doing, my darling)

I fear no fate (for you are my fate, my sweet)

I want no world (for beautiful you are my world, my true)

and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant

and whatever a sun will always sing is you."

Her voice trembled, her heart in every word. When she reached the end, she met his gaze, her eyes pleading. His expression softened, his guarded exterior cracking as he walked closer to her. His hand reached out, brushing his thumb gently across her cheek.

"Do you mean that?" he asked, his voice a barely-there whisper, as if he was afraid to hope.

"More than anything," she replied, her voice catching. "Sebastian, I...I came to tell you that I'm free. The engagement with Adam...it's over. I went to my father and convinced him to call off the engagement. I convinced him that I can run his company without Adam and I told him how Adam.. how he tried to force himself on me.." Her voice wavered with relief as she finally released the burden she'd been carrying.

Sebastian's expression turned dark, his eyes flashing with anger. "He what?" His fists clenched, and he took a sharp breath, struggling to control the anger simmering just beneath the surface. "If he ever comes near you again..." His voice was tight with fury, but his hand on her cheek remained gentle. "I should have been there. If I'd known, I'd never have let him near you."

"It's over, Sebastian," she said softly, her hand resting atop his. "It's okay, it's finally over."

He exhaled deeply, his gaze softening as he looked at her with a mixture of relief and admiration. "You...you really went to your father and convinced him?" His voice was filled with awe, as if seeing her in a new light. "I always knew you were strong, but this...convincing a man like him to break off an engagement and give you a shot at his company... I didn't know you had it in you."

She smiled, a bit shyly. "I think I owe it to Y/n..., you know? She taught me so much about strategy and confidence. She helped me realize that maybe I was capable of more than I thought."

He chuckled softly, his hand brushing back a strand of her hair. "Well, if Y/n was behind all that, remind me to thank her someday. But I'm serious. I'm so proud of you. You're amazing."

A tear slipped down her cheek, her heart swelling as he wrapped her in a tender embrace. For the first time in weeks, she felt the weight lift, his admiration and pride filling the space once occupied by fear.

Then, unable to hold back any longer, he released her and looked down, closing the distance between them, he captured her lips in a kiss filled with longing and relief. She responded in kind, her hands curling into his shirt as they lost themselves in the moment, the barriers between them finally shattered.

When they finally pulled away, they laughed softly, leaning against each other.

"I love you.." He whispered, making her heart flutter.

"I love you too.." She whispered back, making him smile.

"What do you have for me here?" He asked moments later, releasing her and glancing at the picnic basket at her feet.

"All your favorites." She replied as she picked up the picnic basket and brought it to the table in the living room. She opened the picnic basket, laying out his favorite Rubirosa-like pizza that she baked herself, the peanut butter and chocolate cupcakes, and two smoothies that Rosa had made.

"You really brought all my favorites," he said, his eyes soft as he looked at her, a warmth radiating from him she hadn't seen in so long. "You remembered."

"I remember everything," she replied, her hand reaching for his. "I never stopped thinking about you."

As they shared the food, their conversation was filled with laughter and soft exchanges, both of them slowly letting go of the pain of the past few weeks. When he reached for the remote, he made a face, realizing the screen was still paused on Blue Valentine. "I think we need something a little less heartbreaking," he said, his fingers lacing through hers.

She smiled. "How about something romantic?"

He chose his favorite romcom, Notting Hill, and they settled in, her head resting on his shoulder, his arm wrapped around her as they laughed and exchanged smiles, letting the movie bring them back to a place of pure happiness.

When the credits rolled, he turned to her, his gaze filled with a newfound determination. "Stay with me tonight, mi reina," he whispered.

Her heart fluttered as she heard him call her with the endearing nickname again. She didn't realize how much she missed hearing him call her that.

"I'm not going anywhere, mi rey." She nodded and he smiled.

With that he swept her into his arms, carrying her toward the bedroom with laughter and kisses, each moment a celebration of the love that had endured. Their reunion was tender and filled with joy, each touch and kiss reaffirming the promises they'd made in their hearts.

Later, they lay together, content and entwined, the silence between them one of peace and fulfillment. He pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, his voice soft. "This time, I'm not letting you go."

She smiled but couldn't help feeling a tug in her heart, her fingers tracing his face. Oh how much she wished she would never have to leave him. But if somehow she and Aurora switched bodies again, she wouldn't have a choice but to leave him.

A flicker of sadness passed her eyes and Sebastian noticed.

"Mi reina, what's wrong?" He asked, his eyebrows furrowed.

"Nothing.. I'm just happy we're together. I.. umm.. I had a flashback now of the nights I spent without you. They were unbearable." She said, her voice shook and his eyes softened.

"Well, I'm here now, mi reina, and like I said, I will never let you go again." He said, reaching up to stroke her cheek gently.

"I'm glad you said that." She smiled, wishing she could say more but for now she thought it was enough. Whatever the future brings, whether or not she would ever switch back to her own body, the most important thing was that she was back in his arms for the moment, and she just wanted to savor the feeling for as long as she could.

Chapter 24 >

Taglist

@dhoruwolfie @kandis-mom

#sebastian stan #sebastianstan #sebastian stan fanfic #sebastian stan fanfiction #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x y/n #sebastian stan x you #bucky barnes #sebastian stan x female reader #sebastian stan fluff

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